Page 90 of The Rogue's Runaway Bride
“If you think I will marry you, perhaps you are the one who has gone a bit mad. I know the truth.” She dragged in a breath. “About you. And my scheming aunt.”
“Blast it, you are nearly more trouble than you’re worth. Had I known of your defiant nature, I would’ve pursued a malleable spinster. But Vera... bloody hell, I should not have trusted her.”
“Go back to her.” Belle forced a cool edge to her tone. “She is the one who wants you. Not me.”
“Do you think I give a bloody damn?” he scoffed. “The woman is a useful, well-connected fool.” His eyes narrowed. “She’ll be out of the picture soon enough. My special blend of tea will see to that.”
“Dear God.” Belle gasped. “You would see her dead?”
His shoulders lifted and fell in an emotionless shrug. “Enough talk. You are coming with me.” His gaze bore into her. “Now.”
“I will not go with you.” She glanced around the kitchen. If she could get to the frying pan on the stove, she might have a true defense.
“Do not try my patience, any more than you already have.” He turned to Roderick. “Unless you truly don’t give a damn about that sweet-faced little girl.”
Belle’s heart raced. “You would not sink so low as to harm a child.”
“I have no desire to hurt her. Nor you, for that matter.” He slanted Northcutt a glance. “That is his job.”
Carrie squirmed against the jackal’s hold. Until that moment, the child had been very quiet, taking in the scene with a wide, not-quite-comprehending gaze. But sudden understanding gleamed in her eyes.
The girl’s look of instinctive fear tore at Belle’s heart. She would never forgive Gideon for using the child as a pawn in his ugly scheme.
Wrenching against the man’s unyielding grasp, Carrie let out a plaintive wail. But it wasn’t a scream.
It was a word.
“Stomp!” Carrie belted out at the top of her lungs.
“Ooof!”
As Carrie slammed her hard-soled shoe into his instep, Northcutt grunted in pain.
“Kick!” The child sang out a heartbeat before her foot plowed into his shin.
“Bugger it!” the man bellowed.
Seizing the opportunity, Carrie ripped free. She dashed down the corridor as the blustering man chased after her.
“Do not touch her!” Belle cried out and took off running after the child.
She’d made it as far as the sitting room when Gideon caught her against him, hauling her nearly off her feet.
“Put me down, you bastard!” she screamed, desperate to reach Carrie before the brute could harm her.
“You’re making this harder than it needs to be,” he grated against her cheek.
Belle jabbed her elbow into his ribs.
Swearing beneath his breath, he staggered back. But his hold was solid as iron.
Another jab of her elbow, solid into his belly. Another muffled groan. But still, the taut restraint of Gideon’s hold did not ease.
Concealing the rolling pin against the folds of her skirts, Mrs. Gilroy hurried after Northcutt. Each step as fast as her hobbled knee would allow, she pursued him. “Don’t even think about hurting the wee lass.”
Moments later, a muffled thump and an angry bellow of pain drifted from the dining room. Had Mrs. Gilroy’s stout rolling pin connected with the man’s thick skull?
“Bugger off, you little witch.” Northcutt ground out the words a moment before anotherthudcut off a bitter epithet.
