Page 9 of Her Wicked Longing
“Is everything all right, Miss Beaumont? You’ve gone very pale.” James moved to sitbesideher.
“Y—yes,” she stammered, unnerved by his closeness and the contents of the letter. She jumped when he placed his gloved hand over hers. His palm was warm and his fingers strong, but gentle as they curled around herfingers.
“My lord, you mustn’t. People are watching us.” She glanced away, wishing she’d worn a bonnet today so she might’ve hidden her face fromsearchingeyes.
“Let them see. I like you, Miss Beaumont. And I’ve only known you but a fewhours.”
Gillian laughed, but the sound was watery. “My lord, you do not know me at all.” Her heart clenched. “I am most grateful for everything you’ve done today, but I’m afraid I reallymustgo.”
She pulled her hand free of his, hating how she missed his touch. She’d never thought she would fall for any man, certainly not one like the Earl of Pembroke. It was time to go, to end this silly charade before her heart was truly broken. She climbed out of the carriage, glancing about for her own coach and found it at the end of thestreet.
“Miss Beaumont, please, let me escort you.” James climbed down, trying to take her hand again. Gillian’s eyes stung with tears, and she blinked them back.What is wrong with me? I’ve never hurt so.But having to convince James leave her alone was making her bleedinside.
“Please, my lord. You should remain with your sister.” Then, before she could let him convince her to stay, she rushed toward the waiting coach farther down thestreet.
Just as she reached the coach, a man emerged from the mews between two shops and gripped her arm. Something sharp dug into her side, and she opened her mouth toscream.
“Hush now, pet. I’ve got a knife, and it’s sharp enough to cut you through your stays and make a nice little hole. We wouldn’t want that, now would we?” The man was dressed like a gentleman, but the heavy scruff on his jaw and Cockney accent assured her he was nogentleman.
“You’re going to be good, aren’t you?” the man asked quietly in her ear. “Nod, if youagree.”
Gillian nodded her headhesitantly.
“Let’s go for a little walk down ’ere.” He dragged her into the mews he had just emerged from. There was an open door on the left, leading to rooms above a shop front. Gillian tried to dig in her heels a little as they reached the door, her mouth filled with a strange bitter taste. The knifepoint pricked her, and she couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped. Instinct took over, and she wriggled in his hold, wanting to flee the man and hisknife.
“Stop fightin’ me!” the man snarled and dug one hand into her hair, jerking her head back as he used the painful hold to drag her inside the darkened doorway. She was slammed against the wall, her head striking against wood. She dropped the letter from her reticule. She tried to touchherhead.
“Ah… ’Ere we are.” The man bent down and grasped the letter. With this temporary distraction, he lowered the knife so that it was close to the floor while he retrieved the letter meant for her mistress. Gillian didn’t need the letter, which gave her a chance to use his diverted focus to escape. She scrambled for the door but cried out as the man grabbed her skirts andyankedhard.
She fell to her knees, and something hit her temple. In the blink of an eye, everythingwentdark.
Chapter4
James stood beside his carriage,watching Miss Beaumont walk away. As the distance between them lengthened, his heart grew heavier, he realized something had been takenfromhim.
She had seemed so lost as she’d pulled away from him. There had been a glimmer of tears in her eyes that he didn’t understand. He wanted to go after her. There was something wrong—he sensed it. He would escort her home, even if she protested. Whatever was in that letter had upset her greatly, and she shouldn’t have to return home alone. James told his driver to wait for Letty and take her home. He would hire a hackney once he’d seen Miss Beaumont safely to herresidence.
When he turned back to the street, he saw the distant figure of Gillian as she reached the end of the street. Suddenly, a man came toward her and grabbed her arm. Panic flared inside him. No gentleman would grab a lady’s arm like that, and out of nowhere, no less. James frowned. Did she know the man? The intimate stance indicated that she did, but he was too far to see clearly what was occurring between them. She and the man turned away from her coach and walked into the mews, vanishingfromview.
The knot of worry in his gut grew stronger. What was she doing? The man seemed off somehow in a way James couldn’t place. There was a menace in the way he was moving toward Gillian, and James didn’t feel comfortable leaving her alone, her protestations be damned. He began to walk briskly, but after a few seconds he began to run. As he reached the mews, he nearly collided with the man, who cursed at him and stumbled back before he rushed out of thealley.
What—?
There was no sign of Gillian. He scanned the mews, peering deep into the shadows cast by buildings on either side. He squinted and saw a door open farther down the narrow lane. A pale hand was stretched across the floor over thethreshold.
“Gillian!” Fear strangled him as he rushed to the door. He skidded to a stop at her side as she lay on thefloor.
“Oh Lord,” he gasped as he knelt down and turned her over. He placed two fingers against her throat. A steady pulse beat against them. She was alive. He examined her and saw a reddened mark against one temple. The man hadstruckher!
James knelt down and lifted her up in his arms, cradling her against his chest. She needed to be seen by a physician immediately. He rushed to hercoach.
“Excuse me!” he called out to the driver. “Are you Miss Beaumont’s coachman?” The driver glanced down and cursed in surprise at what he saw. He rushed from his seat to help James get Gillianinside.
“What happened?” the driver demanded, his eyes scanning Gillian’smotionlessbody.
“Some bloody bastard struck her. She has to be seen by a physicianatonce.”
“Thank you, my lord.” The driver helped settle Gillian ontheseat.
