Page 35 of Stolen By the Rogue
Bloody hell, what does he want?
“Hello, darlin’. I saw your fancy man heading off a short while ago. I was thinkin’ you might be lonely and in need of company.”
Jane gave him a tight smile. “That is very considerate of you, but I am fine. Good evening.” She went to push the door closed, but a large, dirty boot was jammed in the space.
Her heart began to race as her gaze settled on the beady eyes which peered through the gap. George had been gone for a good fifteen minutes, and if he had only gone to the nearby tavern for food, hopefully he was on his way back.
But how long was the time between then and now? Would she be able to sweet-talk this letch into going home and leaving her alone, or would he seize the opportunity to take what was so clearly written in his eyes?
“Come now. You don’t have to be all coy wiv me. I like the ones who talk in a posh voice; it gets me cock hard. But the truth is, you just have to get on your back and let me do it,” he said.
George, where are you?
“I think you may have the wrong end of the stick. I am not on the game, and he is not my pimp. What we said before we bought the house was just in jest; you must have realized, that? My husband and I are going to clean up the house and live here. He says this area is ripe for new development,” she replied, swallowing a lump of fear. She pushed against the door, hoping that he might take the hint.
He didn’t. Instead, he forced his way farther into the gap.
“I am sorry. I didn’t know we were having company this evening.”
Jane could have wept with relief at the sound of George’s voice.
The shopkeeper hastily retreated out of the doorway as George muscled his way past him and into the house. He stopped and gave Jane a tender kiss on the lips. “Sorry I took so long, sweetheart.”
She accepted the bag of food from his hands and moved toward the kitchen. From over her shoulder came a hurried “Good night” from their neighbor, followed by the reassuring sound of the door being firmly closed and locked.
Jane had just set the parcel on the table when George appeared at her shoulder.
“What did he want?” he asked.
She sucked in a shuddering breath. “Me.”
Strong arms wrapped around her, and a warm kiss was pressed to her forehead. As George stroked his hand over her hair, Jane quietly counted her blessings. He might well be a rogue, but he was also very much her hero.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Ireally should go and have a firm word with him,” said George.
Truthfully, a word wasn’t all he wanted to give the man. If George made the short trip to the front door of their neighbor’s home, he was more than likely going to kick it in. Then the disgusting creep would get a violent and bloody lesson in what George Hawkins did to the likes of men who had in mind to force themselves on a woman.
I shall meet with each one of our mutual acquaintances and make certain that they never do business with you again. I will ruin you.
“We need to keep him on side, at least until we have finished searching the house. We can’t afford to make an enemy of him. With luck, he got the message tonight,” she said.
“As you hopefully did too. I won’t have your safety compromised. From now on, if you are alone in the house, you don’t answer the bloody door. I don’t care if it’s the King of England on the other side.”
He didn’t want to think about what might have happened tonight if he hadn’t realized that the baker’s shop closed early on a Monday and returned to the house.
Jane had assured him that nothing had happened, and she was fine, but anger still coursed through George’s veins. It was only her insistence on them eating their supper and discussing the details of the treasure hunt for the following day that kept him from marching out the front door.
I just want to throttle that bastard. Fancy thinking, he could lay his hands on Jane.
“I promise I will not open the door without knowing who it is on the other side. To be honest, I am a more than a little disappointed in myself for having done so. You would think after all this time of being on my own that I would know better. And I do,” she replied.
George set his mug of ale on the table. They really had to do something about the fireplace in the kitchen. He would kill for a hot cup of tea or even a lukewarm coffee.
But right now, all I want is to kill someone.
“I thought it was clever of you to tell him I was your husband. Perhaps we should keep that story going. Maybe if he understands that you are not available for any sexual services, he might get the hint,” said George.
