Page 14 of Never Tempt a Scot
“Need some help?” A man appeared at his side.
“I’m fine,” he growled. The man had the air of a cutpurse about him.
“Seems to me you’re not. Christ, you’re a big bloke, ain’t you?” The man’s hands barely closed around Brodie’s upper arm.
“Let go of me.” Brodie jerked free and turned away but stumbled into the wall, leaning heavily on it for support. Three more men filled the hallway, blocking his exit.
“You better get out of my way,” Brodie warned, his hands curled into fists.
“Now, now, ’tis easier if you just come with us.” The man behind him grabbed his arm again. Brodie didn’t waste another second. He swung a fist, catching the man on the jaw. He went down like a rock, thudding on the floor.
“Bring him down!” someone shouted. An arm grabbed him around the neck, trying to choke him. Brodie tightened his neck muscles and slammed the man against the nearest wall. The other two men converged on him, striking every spot they could reach. To his horror and shame, Brodie sank to his knees, still gasping for breath as the world blacked out around him.
He came to minutes later it seemed—or maybe it was hours. His limbs were stretched out, and his body was being roughly handled as he was dragged down a darkened hallway. His vision tunneled in and out as he struggled to stay conscious, but it was no use. Whatever these men had done—and he knew they had indeed done something to him—he wasn’t able to fight back.
Having finished relievinghimself in a chamber pot, Rafe came out into the hall, only to see something he’d never expected to see in Bath. Four men were dragging Brodie away like a stunned calf.
His friend hung limp as a sack of flour in their hold. Another man might have run at them or cried for help, but despite his reputation, Rafe was not so reckless as many believed him to be. He followed the men into the street, sticking to the shadows in order to remain unseen. They lifted Brodie into a hackney.
“Bloody hell.” This was no simple brawl Brodie had somehow lost. This was an abduction. Rafe glanced about and saw another passing coach. He waved it down and instructed the driver to follow the abductors at a discreet distance. Once settled inside, he wondered what the devil Brodie had gotten himself into.
When the coach stopped, Rafe slipped out and handed the driver his fare before he got his bearings. They were at Royal Crescent, the most expensive and exclusive area in Bath. Not at all the sort of place one expected to see four rough men hauling an unconscious Scotsman out of a coach. The men carried him up some stairs and into one of the elegant homes on the curved street.
Rafe waited several long minutes in the mews two houses away while he decided what to do next. The front door opened again, and the four men left. There was no sign of Brodie, which meant he must still be inside.
Rafe crept along the street until he was standing in front of the residence. A few lamps were lit near the windows facing the street, but he could see no one inside. There had to be a way into the house. The servants’ entrance, perhaps? He would find a way inside to rescue his friend. He could only hope that the bastard who’d taken the Scotsman had no immediate plans to harm him.
Brodie groanedas he came awake and tried to clear the fog in his head.
“How long will he be out?” a voice asked. A familiar voice.
“I’d say he’ll be in and out for another half hour. Better give him a mouthful of this if he gets rough,” a scratchy voice said. Brodie recognize that voice as well. It reminded him of dark halls and choking hands.
“Er ... Right. Well, thank you, Mr. Webster. Here’s the remainder of your payment.”
“Thank you kindly, sir. You know where to find me, should you need my services again.” Mr. Webster chuckled.
The shuffling of distant footsteps grew softer before the silence was punctuated by a heavy sigh a moment later.
“I see you are at least partially awake, Mr. Kincade. I did not mean for it to come to this, but I’m afraid you’ve left me no choice.” A man’s face leaned over Brodie.
Jackson Hunt. The little blonde lass’s father. Rafe had been right about the man acting desperately. Brodie tried to speak, but he was too tired, too thick-tongued. Damned Rafe. He was right about the girl, and her father.
“Do not speak. I was told you’ve been given a heavy dose of laudanum, and I suspect it has made it hard for you to think. I’m sorry about that. I didn’t wish for them to drug you. Therefore, I will do the talking. You are to remain here at my home, my guest as it were, while you and I come to an understanding regarding my daughter. She has told me the truth about your meeting. How you seduced her, and how she is carrying your child.”
Brodie stared at Jackson in a cold fury, wishing he had the strength to shout every blasted curse that was on the tip of his useless tongue.
“Now, as I have already told you, I will pay ten thousand a year to you for marrying my daughter so that she might live in relative comfort, along with my grandchild.”
A snort of muffled laughter escaped Brodie. Ten thousand pounds was enough forrelativecomfort? If that was the case, then he had lived in abject poverty. If Brock hadn’t married Rafe’s sister, their family castle would have crumbled to gravel. Their family had lost their fortune years ago after their mother had died.
“I shall let you rest and think on it.” Jackson turned to leave, but he paused in the doorway. “I love my daughter, Mr. Kincade. She deserves the best in life. A man who loves her and her coming child. While I am sorely disappointed that you did not do the honorable thing with regards to her, I hope very much that you will see sense and become that man.” Then he left the room and closed the door behind him.
Brodie waited until he had left before he tried to move. He jerked weakly, and his hands and legs moved only a few inches before abruptly halting. With a roll of his head to one side, he discovered that thick ropes bound his wrists and ankles to the bedposts.
They had tied him to a bloody bed. He felt like he was trapped in some blasted Gothic novel, only wasn’t it the woman who was always in this position?
He pulled the ropes. They creaked slightly but did not yield. Soon he gave in to the effects of the laudanum and dozed off. He wasn’t sure how long he was asleep, but he woke when he heard the door open and soft steps hurry across the room.
