Page 130 of The Rogue's Last Scandal
He turned his attention on her, and her breath eased, and then hitched up again as he walked her way.
Help would come soon, she prayed. She need only stall.
“’Ere now.” Her first captor reached over and grabbed Reina.
Panic roared in her. “No,” she shouted. “Stop. What are you…I’ll come with you. I’ll go to him. Leave her.” She held her baby, both of them screaming in this tug-of-war. Hands grasped her from behind, another force too powerful. She couldn’t hold on, and Reina was yanked away.
Her baby’s look of pure terror sent Graciela flailing.
“I’ll go to him.”
Charley made out Graciela’s words over the screeching child.
A man rushed headlong from the side garden, the wriggling bundle tucked at his side like a barrel of rum.
“Perry,” Charley yelled and thrust out his foot sending the man and the child flying.
Charley reached for Reina, but Perry was there, diving to cushion her fall. While she wrestled the man, he grabbed for an urn of potted geraniums and coshed him.
Reina screamed, and kicked, and flailed her little arms. Charley scooped her up and helped Perry to stand.
“He needn’t do this.” Graciela’s voice sounded panicky. “What—don’t touch me,” she shouted.
He handed the screaming bundle to Perry. “Get her inside.”
She hesitated. The man on the ground stirred.
“Go,” he said, and she took off.
He picked up the urn and hit the downed man again.
Gracie came around the corner, another man holding her, his hand smashing her breast.
White hot rage roared in him, mirroring the fury twisting her face.
He took in a breath. He was armed with a garden pot. The villain had a knife, not poised at any of her vital spots. Yet blood dripped down the man’s knife and his sleeve.
Reina’s screams retreated, and other footsteps grew louder. Their men, he hoped.
“Are you hurt, Gracie?” he asked.
She shook her head. “The footman—”
She wheezed as the thug yanked her up tight, that hand taking a firmer grip on her breast.
Blood roared in him. Damn, but he would slice that hand off. “What the devil are you doing in Lord Shaldon’s garden?” he shouted. “Let the lady go.”
“Not ’til I’m out of here. Move out the way and let me pass.”
“The footman is—oof.” Gracie huffed and gritted her teeth.
Kincaid or one of the men would be going out a window to circle around behind this devil. He just had to keep him talking.
And then he could kill him.
“Shoot him,” Gracie said.
“Shut up.” The villain gripped her awkwardly, his knife arm trembling. Their footman had sliced him. Some of that blood was his.
