Page 44 of The Bastard's Iberian Bride
Her heart quickened. The puzzle. The treasure. The puzzle of where the treasure was hidden.
How could this ass have the other half of her mother’s ring? Where did he get it? And how long had he had it? If the ring had an answer, he must have found it by now.
He laughed darkly. “Close your mouth, Paulette. I can see the question on your pretty face. I got my part of this puzzle from anotherwhore.”
Heat surged into her cheeks.
Composure, Paulette. Unman your opponent with your calm.
Jock’s words failed to compose her. She eased in a breath. “My mother wasnota whore.”
She was a spy.
“Was she not? Yet she had the other half of a whore’s ring.”
Her next breath was deeper. “No. The whore hadherother half, if there even was a whore. And I want it back. In fact, you’ve had years to solve the puzzle. You might as well give me both pieces.”
He circled the table and gripped her arm. She tried to wrench away, but he stayed fixed, his hand firm. Panic built in her.
Just like with Cummings, she had underestimated this man’s strength.
“What have you got there, Paulette, under your skirt?”
His chuckle sent fear raging through her and breath whooshed out of her. Before she could catch it back for a scream, Agruen went flying back into the darkness with loud thuds and grunts.
“Are you all right, then, miss?” Thomas appeared at her side.
She quivered and shook, but praise God, the boy didn’t notice, and didn’t really expect her to speak. He was riveted upon the dark action beyond the light.
“Lay off,” Agruen yelled. “What are you doing?”
“What wereyoudoing to the lady?”
Her heart skipped a beat. This last growl had issued from Mr. Gibson.
He’d come to her rescue. Her heart swelled and clanged against her breastbone.
And then plummeted. He’d known about this meeting.
Heat rose in her and she snagged Thomas’s sleeve. “You followed me.”
The boy’s gaze jerked to her. He blinked.
Gad, she could take lessons in lying from this boy. Her anger died, a laugh bubbling up. Yes, he’d followed her, and thank God for it.
Agruen came into the light, his body jerked up unnaturally, his shirt stretching his neck higher.
Mr. Gibson was behind him.
The door opened and more light suffused the room.
Paulette’s cheeks heated again. Damn it all, she’d been a fool. She’d walked into another of Agruen’s traps, only this one would turn into a fine spectacle and end with her being sent away again with another keeper like Mrs. Everly. Only now she had no home to go to except perhaps Cransdall.
And she wasn’t going there.
Dressed only in a belted banyan, Lord Hackwell stepped closer, a candle held high. “What’s afoot, Gibson?” he asked, calmly.
Mr. Gibson released Agruen and wiped his hands together. “Just helping his lordship here to his feet.” His voice was steady. There was even a trace of humor.
