Page 2 of The Rogue's Runaway Bride
There was no telling how long the child had been without food. Given his tattered coat, he may have lacked for nourishment even before his mother walked away and left him here.
“If you come inside with me, I’ll make sure you get something in your tummy.”
“Would ye now?” The coarse male voice from the shadows in the alley startled Belle. Instinctively, she reached for the boy. Her heart raced. She’d do whatever it took to protect the tot from the lanky man whose features she could not quite make out.
But the child slipped out of her grasp. He darted away, his little legs carrying him at a pell-mell pace into the darkness of the alley.
“No,” she called after him. “Stay with me. It’s not safe—”
“Ye’re right about that,” the figure in the shadows said with a low chuckle under his breath. “But ye’ve no need to be concerned... not about my wee brother.”
A young man—lad seemed a more apt description—emerged. He carried himself with the air of a street tough, but the light fuzz on his chin betrayed his youth. Why, he didn’t look to be long out of boyhood. In another place, another time, she might have sponsored a gala to raise funds on behalf of the downtrodden. Like him.
But this youth, and the pair of hoodlums behind him, were not relying on charity.
No, they were prepared to take what they wanted.
Her breath hovered in her throat. Perhaps, with luck, they’d take one look at her bedraggled cape and dismiss her as too poor to be worth their time.
As with everything else that night, luck was most definitelynoton her side.
The hooligan eyed her curiously, appearing to sense the apprehension she could not entirely hide. His gaze trailed fromher cloak to the white silk now dragging upon the dirt of the pavement. His pale blue eyes narrowed, and his fingers brushed over the fabric.
Belle jerked back, and a curious look spread over his hard-beyond-his-years features. He shot his companions a glance. “That’s quality, mates. Now, isn’t this a puzzle?”
He reached for her again. This time, she smacked his hand away. The rotter flashed an ugly smile and brandished a blade he’d palmed in his other hand.
She took a step back, then another, until the wall of brick at her back boxed her in. Summoning her courage, she hiked her chin. An open show of fear would only embolden this young tough.
“Hand it over.” He met her gaze. “Don’t make me hurt ye.”
Belle clutched her reticule tightly within her closed fingers as he caught the edge of her cloak and peeled back the fabric. “Ye’re a generous miss,” he went on, his tone brash and cold. “Ye wouldn’t wantusto go hungry now, would ye?”
With that, he snatched at the purse she’d tethered to her wrist by its braided cord. When she pulled away, he caught her arm, twisting hard until a soft cry of pain escaped her. Seizing the moment, he deftly sliced through the cord. A cold-eyed grin pulled at his mouth as he dangled the velveteen bag before her.
“You can’t take that,” she blurted out, shocking even herself with the force of her words.
He flashed the folding knife as he leered at her. “Ye’re bloody lucky I don’t take more.”
Raw laughter burst out from the ruffians in the alley. The hoodlum flashed an ugly parody of a smile before he turned away, his prize in hand, and bolted down the alley. The young lad she’d believed lost ran along with the toughs as swiftly as his little legs could carry him until one of them scooped him up and they continued on their way.
Good heavens.
Belle’s heartbeat hammered in her ears. Only then, after the ruffian had dashed away with her last shilling, did the shock of what had happened hit her with full force. She’d been in true danger—danger far beyond the loss of her meager purse. While she had faced the threat, her fear had lingered beneath the surface, not fully showing itself until now. Her knees felt suddenly weak. The sounds of her pounding heartbeat and the thief’s crude laughter lingered in her ears. Thankfully, the ruffian and his accomplices had been concerned with stealing her coins and nothing more. She’d been quite vulnerable, more than she’d realized. If they’d had other foul deeds in mind, she might well have ended up cold and dead in the alley.
The very thought chilled her. She had allowed herself to be drawn into a trap. The sweet-faced tot had been nothing more than a lure.
Oh, she’d been such a fool. But how could she have ignored a young child, alone and teary-eyed? Truth be told, she worried over the lad, even now. What kind of life could a little boy experience on these streets, used as bait by a thief and his rowdy companions? Would the thief use the coins he’d stolen for food? Or would the stolen funds be used for far more nefarious purposes?
Thoughts racing through her mind, she dragged in a breath, and then another, as if that might calm her. A day earlier, she would have willingly pressed money into a hungry lad’s hand for nourishment and shelter. But now... now she could not even afford a bed upon which to rest for the night. Nor a meal to fill her own empty stomach.
The door to the café creaked open. A woman with a tumble of gray hair pinned atop her head stood arms akimbo, eyeing Belle as though she were some sort of vermin set to infest the establishment.
“Move along, miss.” Her voice was gruff and hard. “I don’t need yer type bothering my customers.”
Yer type?Belle blinked. What was this ruddy-faced woman insinuating? Hours earlier, the woman would’ve welcomed Belle into her modest café. But now... well, heaven only knew what she thought Belle was up to. Throwing a quick glance toward the dirt-crusted hem of her once pristine silk dress, she could scarcely fault the proprietor for the misunderstanding.
Another crackle of lightning lit the sky. “I’ve been robbed,” Belle said, thinking she might inspire a touch of compassion. “Might I come in... until the storm passes?”
