Page 27 of Never Kiss a Scot
Joanna made no sound, no cry, no attempt at pleading through the gag. Only her harsh breathing betrayed any fear. His lass was damned brave, but he had no choice but to surrender.
A sense of defeat hit him hard, and he forced himself to relax. He raised his hands in the air. The man holding his neck loosened his grip, but only so he could kick Brock behind the knees. Brock fell to a kneeling position, just feet from Joanna and her captor.
“Good. Obey me and she won’t be harmed.”
The man behind Brock grabbed his hands and tied them behind his back with rope, and then Joanna was released but only to have her wrists bound in front of her.
“Gather their things,” the man who’d held Joanna ordered. The other men quickly picked up their saddlebags, throwing them over the horses’ backs, and then the men began to walk the horses out of the cave.
“On your feet. Come with us,” the leader ordered. He kept hold of Joanna by the shoulder and kept his knife out. They walked a mile or so deeper into the woods. Brock’s fear that they would not survive this encounter increased with every step. If this was a simple robbery, it would be over and done with already. No, there was something more at play.
Lights suddenly blossomed in the darkness, illuminating a hunting lodge as they drew closer. Brock and Joanna were forced inside, their mounts taken to a small stable by one of the other men. Brock now had a better view of the two men holding them captive. They were tall, strong looking, and well dressed. They wore hats and black masks, hiding their faces.
Bloody highwaymen.
The man holding Joanna began to drag her back toward a room.
“Please…” Brock breathed. The second man pressed a pistol into his back between his shoulder blades, but Brock took another step toward Joanna. “Please, don’t hurt the lass.”
The man gripping Joanna frowned. “What is she to you?”
“She’s my future wife.” He hoped these blackguards would have some small piece of humanity still inside them.
Joanna made a soft sound, her eyes meeting his, and it broke his heart.
“Please,” he tried again, his voice hoarse with fear. “I’ll give you anything.” He took a small step toward Joanna. The man holding her nodded at Brock, which confused him. A second later he realized the nod was not meant for him.
Pain exploded in the back of his skull, and the last sensation he felt was one of falling.
10
Joanna screamed and fought against her captor as Brock crumpled to the ground. The man who had struck him tucked his pistol back into his coat.
“I’m happy to admit I like this bloke better unconscious,” the man grumbled, and then he glanced at Joanna, his dark-brown eyes curious.
“Pretty bird,” he commented, still assessing Joanna. She shivered.
“And not for you.” The man who held her now dragged her forcefully into the room behind them and slammed the door shut. She was shoved into a chair by the fire, and her wrists were freed from the rope. Then the man poured her a glass of wine and pushed it into her shaking hands. She took it, staring down at the contents, and started to raise it up to throw it back in his face, but then he spoke.
“Just drink, Joanna, for God’s sake. You’ve put me through hell tonight.”
She blinked, her gaze frozen in confusion as the man removed his hat and mask. Her mouth dropped open.
“Rafe?”
Her brother grinned as though a magician had conjured him out of thin air.
“What the devil were you thinking? You could have killed Brock and me!”
“Nonsense. Everything was quite under control. I’m actually rather disappointed that my lessons to you three years ago about defending yourself against a man didn’t seem to stay with you. You’ve gotten soft on me, old gel.” He flashed her that smug grin that had infuriated and charmed her as a child. It was quite a difficult thing growing up the younger sister to both Ashton and Rafe. They couldn’t have been more different in manners and more similar in looks.
“I haven’t gotten soft, I just didn’t expect to be attacked in a cave! Why were you hiding in the woods?” she pressed, the tension in her body subsiding now that she realized she wasn’t in mortal peril.
“It’s a bit of a lark, really.” He answered a little too quickly, and she knew he was avoiding the subject. “Now, how are you, sister?” He chuckled as he nodded at her glass. “Drink. You look like you might need it.”
She raised the glass to her lips, her hand still trembling.
“But you left after Ashton’s wedding. I thought you went back to London.”
