Page 75 of When a Lady Desires a Wicked Lord
Colton’s somber gaze settled on his wife. “That will buy time, at best. I suspect whoever is after the map has an idea of what it depicts. There’s no telling how much Professor Stockwell revealed, especially to his own son.”
The sensation of a dull blade pierced his heart. The odds were against them, but they had to do everything in their power to get to her. “There’s no alternative,” Benedict said. “If we use force to rescue her, God only knows what they’ll do to avoid capture.”
“There is one more thing.” Jennie’s expression was grim as she stared down at the second missive.
Benedict read the stricken look in her eyes. “What is it?”
“The exchange they demand is twofold,” she said softly. “They want the map. But there is something else…a bargain they expect in return for Alex’s safe return.”
“What is it, Mrs. Colton?” Benedict forced an even tone into his voice.
“They demand a life.” Jennie’s voice cracked with raw emotion and fear.
He pulled in a breath. “You can speak the words. I suspect I know what it says.”
She gave her head a desperate shake. Tears glistened in her eyes. “No…I cannot do this. I cannot put this burden on you.”
Benedict took the letter from her trembling fingers. The message penned in small, cramped script did not surprise him. But it was a dagger to the heart nonetheless.
“One life for another.” Steeling himself, he read the words aloud. “Marlsbrook will take Miss Quinn’s place. If not, her blood will flow before the stroke of midnight.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
The stench of the docks permeated the walls of the damp, dingy warehouse that now served as Alex’s prison. Tethered by her wrists and ankles to a sturdy wooden chair, she worked at the knots securing her bonds. She’d no intention of waiting patiently for an audience with her captor. There was nothing to negotiate. Even if she provided him with the map, Nelson would not let her leave this place. He hadn’t even tried to disguise his features. Only a man who did not intend for his witness to live would be so cavalier.
A twinge of fear coursed along her spine at the very thought of it. Why in Hades had the coward brought her here, of all places?
She tugged at the knot, easing it looser. Nelson had displayed no skill at his criminal enterprise. He’d been crudely inefficient. At least that worked to her advantage. If only she could free herself and escape this dank place.
He’d accompanied her in the carriage that had transported them to this decrepit facility on the London waterfront. A scrawny youth had commanded the coach reins. If he’d suspected the truth of the situation and realized the crime taking place beneath his nose, he’d shown no concern for her. He only cared about the coins that graced his palm for services rendered.
Nelson’s voice reached her ears. He was close by, and from the tone of his words, he was in a stir. Another man responded to Nelson’s agitated statements, low and muffled, as if he’d deliberately distorted the sounds with a cloth of some sort. Evidently, his partner was not as careless with his identity as Nelson had been.
“If she doesn’t have the map, it’s all for nothing,” Nelson said.
“The bitch lied to you.” The second man ground out between his teeth. “She has it.”
“I don’t like this. Not one bloody bit,” Nelson said. “Damned if I’m going to hang—”
“You will do whatever I tell you. Or the gallows will be the least of your worries.” The other man’s calm, quiet tone added to his menace.
“What are we going to do if he doesn’t bring it?”
“He’ll bring it.” The unknown man laughed, low and raw, like nails scraping against a slate. “He won’t let the bitch die… He’s a bleedin’ fool over her.”
Alex’s heart sank. God above, they were talking about Benedict. The horrible truth washed over her, triggering a sickening chill peppering her skin. They’d set out to lure him to this awful place.
She wasn’t the quarry.
She was the bait.
God, please don’t let Benedict become ensnared in their brutal scheme.
Her pulse roaring in her ears, she pulled at the bindings, desperate now. She had to free herself. If she could work her way out of this, she could warn him away.
The knot resisted her efforts. She tugged again. Harder. The tethers eased around her wrists, only to resist her attempt to shed them. Another tug, and the knot seemed to go tighter.
Blast it, why wouldn’t the bloody rope give way, just enough for her to wriggle free?
