Page 123 of The Bastard's Iberian Bride
His pulse pounded in his ear. It was useless. He was useless, a feckless beast, only good with his fists. Once they had this madness settled and he knew she was safe—
He drew in a deep breath. No. He would not make a run for India, not yet. She could be with child, even now. The child would need him. She would need him, his protection and guidance, at least for a while, and he would give it to her and rue losing her from his bed.
“Foolish girl,shedid not tell you of me, did she?” the woman called Fil said. “I am Filomena De Silva. I was a cousin to the woman you called Mother, and—”
A shot crackled through the air, pain stinging Bink as he dived for Paulette.
Chaos erupted. With one hand he reached for her. With the other, he clawed for the gun at his waist.
More shots blasted. Smoke mingled with drizzle. The grip of his pistol was wet. He slid it under his coat and a sharp pain pushed him to his knees, and Paulette slipped from his grasp.
No—she was ripped from him. Blood-lust flooded him. He struggled up, legs wobbling like slippery eels, chaos around him, men fighting, wrestling. The horses spooked, flew off, hooves clattering, carriage stairs dragging, door flapping. A thug reared in front of him, knife in hand and he fired, sending the man crashing.
Bakeley snatched his arm.
“Where is she?” Bink roared.
“You’re hit. Get inside.”
“Where’s Paulette?”
Kincaid popped up from the man he was checking. “See to Gibson’s wound, Bakeley.” He pointed at another man. “Get horses. Now.” Then he gripped Bink’s shoulder. “She’s in that carriage. Agruen took her.The horses,” he bellowed.
A roar swallowed him, but no noise would come. He fisted his hand around the pistol and would have pounded his brother, but Bakeley parried and wrenched the gun away. “Let me go,” Bink shouted. “What are we waiting for? He’ll torture her for naught.”
The pavement rolled like the deck of a ship. He’d failed her. He’d failed to protect her.
“See here.” Kincaid grabbed his shoulders and glared into his eyes. “You’re gut-shot, man. Ye’ll be no good in the chase, bleeding and fainting. Iwillfind her and wewillget her back.”
He looked down at his waistcoat where a thickening circle stained the cloth a darker shade of brown. “Damn you,” he said, gripping Kincaid’s arm. “Do it, then. Find her.”
“I’ll follow as soon as I have him inside,” Bakeley said.
“No. You’re the heir of Shaldon. Stay with your brother. We’ll find them.”
The horses arrived and Kincaid was off.
“Them?” Bink asked.
“They have the woman also.”
Paulette rubbed tiredlyat the bindings on her wrists and looked around the squalid room.
A glimmer of light floated in through the dingy windows. This was a small sitting room of the sort she thought she might have been able to afford with her income. Threadbare chairs, their cushions stained an unpleasant shade of brown, adorned the fireplace.
She and the woman who claimed to be a cousin had been shoved onto battered wooden chairs at a sad matching table in the room’s corner.
Her knuckles were bloody, her dress ripped, and she had lost Betty’s lovely hat and lacy veil. Agruen stood watching his minion finish tying Filomena. The other woman winked at her over the wiry, smelly man’s shoulder, and she felt some of her spirit return.
She had fought hard and would have bruises to match Jenny’s.
“This is a pretty set of rooms, Lord Agruen,” Filomena said. “You have had more financial resources than the world knows of, I see.”
Paulette held her breath, and waited for the blow. Filomena was goading him into adding more lashes to those he’d already delivered. Her face was bruised, her lips cut and bleeding, yet she still played the jaunty street urchin.
“Itwasyou, then, wasn’t it, Fil?”
“What could you possibly mean?”
