Chapter 3

 

Alexandra struggled against the hands that held her fast, but there was little she could do as she landed hard on the floor of Lady Anne’s carriage. Her assailants climbed in around her. She could hear their urgent whispers, feel them jostle about. Then a voice said, “Let’s go,” and the conveyance lurched into motion.

The blackness inside the bag sparked Alexandra’s memory of the trunk incident with Willy, causing the same panic to return. Once again caught in a tight, dark place, she writhed in misery. “Help! Let me out,” she wailed.

“What’s wrong with her?” someone asked. “She’s frantic.”

“Nothing. She’s been pampered and petted all of her life. That’s all. She’ll be fine,” responded the same man who had spoken to her before, calling her “sister.”

Alexandra desperately wanted to believe the words spoken by that bitter voice. She would be fine, she told herself, over and over again. There was enough air to breathe. But something much deeper contradicted anything so rational, and tears began to stream down her face.

“Please. Let me out. I can’t be in the dark. I can’t breathe!”

Suddenly the hood was yanked off her head. “That’s enough!” A man with shocking blue eyes and long black hair pulled back into a queue at his nape, a man Alexandra had never seen before, glared at her. “Tears might work with other men, but they have little effect upon me.”

Alexandra gulped as she tried to stifle her tears and suck air into her lungs at the same time. “Who are you? What do you want with me?”

Her blue-eyed captor gave her a glacial smile. “I’m afraid we have never had the pleasure of being formally introduced. I am Nathaniel Kent, your older brother.”

“My what?” Alexandra shook her head in confusion. “I have no brother.” She struggled to right herself, but with her hands bound behind her back, she could only wiggle helplessly until one of the other men grasped her by the elbow and pulled her into an upright: position. She almost thanked him before she caught herself.

Nathaniel chuckled without mirth. “Evidently our dear father has neglected to mention a few minor details regarding his past. But what’s a marriage, or a child, for that matter, to a man like him? Nonetheless, I am who I say.”

Alexandra studied the men surrounding her. They looked like desperate fellows. Dressed in tattered, homemade breeches and shirts, many wore thick beards and sported jagged, irregular scars on various parts of their bodies. Tattoos decorated bulging biceps: swords, dragons, or hearts with the name of some lady love.

Nathaniel, obviously their leader, was different.

Black tapered trousers revealed a lean, lithe build, and his white, blousey shirt was clean and well made. He possessed handsome, aristocratic features that could have been chiseled from stone: high cheekbones, a strong jaw, a cleft chin. Even while he sneered at her, Alexandra could see that Mr. Kent would be quite appealing to the ladies, if his lips ever curled into a sincere smile. His only physical flaw appeared to be the absence of part of one arm. A wound? A birth defect? Alexandra couldn’t tell.

“You haven’t answered my other question,” she said, recovering her composure. Her circumstances were still forbidding, but at least she was free of the blasted hood. “What do you want with me?”

“Are you truly as oblivious as you would have me believe?” Nathaniel scoffed.

Alexandra lifted her chin and tried to shift into a more comfortable position. Lady Anne’s dress was twisted about her legs, hampering what little movement she could manage, but it offered her the only clue to this surprising occurrence. Nathaniel had to have something to do with the duke’s daughter. If so, Alexandra need only convince him of her identity, and perhaps he would let her go.

“What if I’m not who you think I am—” She gasped as his hand shot out and long fingers grasped her chin, turning it up toward his face.

“Don’t play games with me,” he said through gritted teeth. “I watched you go in, and I watched you come out. I know exactly who you are.”

Alexandra tried to wrench away, but his fingers dug deeper into her flesh. “You’re hurting me,” she complained.

“Not half as badly as I’d like to,” he replied, then released her from his bruising grip.

“What are you? Some kind of animal?”

Nathaniel grinned, an evil leer, promising in its portent. “Save your compliments for when you know me better.”

“I have no intention of knowing you better. I’m not Lady Anne. I swear I’m not.” She looked at the circle of faces around her as if searching for verification, but the men were obviously skeptical. “My name is Alexandra Cogsworth. I’m a needlewoman,” she continued, hoping to elicit a shred of doubt. “I’m only wearing this dress to escape my stepfather. You have to let me go. I have to catch a train to London—”

“Is Trenton sure about ‘er?” the mammoth of a man sitting next to her asked, interrupting the flow of her panicky chatter.

Alexandra’s eyes darted to Nathaniel’s face.

“Of course he’s sure. Pay her no mind. What else can she be expected to say?” He cocked one eyebrow at her as if in challenge, making Alexandra clench her teeth. She wanted to rake her nails across Nathaniel’s face. She had suffered enough at Willy’s hands to last her a lifetime. She had no intention of allowing another man to take his place. Nor did she intend to let this band of cutthroats make her miss her train to London and Aunt Pauline—her train to freedom.

“Please. You must listen to me.” She lowered her voice, keeping a tight rein on her temper. “I’m not who you think I am. Ask anyone. Stop. Let me out.”

“Gag her,” Nathaniel responded, and a stout, muscular man withdrew a long strip of white cloth from a satchel.

“No! Please! You must believe me. If I don’t make it to London soon, I’ll miss—” The gag reduced Alexandra to squeals, but she refused to fall silent.

Wild with fright and more than a little angry, she continued to grunt and kick, banging about until she slipped from her seat and landed, hard, on the floor.

“Damn hellion.” Instead of moving her back to the seat, Nathaniel held her ankles while the man called Trenton tied them together. Then he leaned back and crossed his feet on top of her, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to do, and all but the huge man followed suit.

Alexandra couldn’t move anymore. The weight of their legs made her sag in exhaustion, and she lay, covered in a sheen of sweat, trying to draw enough air through the thick cloth to recover her breathing. She had indeed escaped Willy—and now she was heading straight for the fiery furnaces of hell.

Nathaniel’s gaze came to rest on her face, but he said nothing to her. Instead, he rapped on the roof. “How much longer?”

A voice issued from the driver’s seat: “Only a few minutes more.”

“Hurry,” Nathaniel responded. “The constabulary will be nipping at our heels at this rate.”

After another four or five miles, the carriage began to slow. Alexandra wondered where they were. She was disoriented, and she couldn’t see anything through the window except a round spot of blue sky. Only the smell of hay and manure and green things growing led her to believe they were in the country somewhere, far from the filthy confines of Manchester.

“Sit her up and take off the gag,” Nathaniel said as he opened the door and jumped to the ground. “I think she might be willing to behave herself now.”

The same man who had gagged her removed the cloth, leaving Alexandra’s lips feeling swollen. She stretched her jaw to make sure it still worked and took a deep breath, grateful to fill her lungs with air again. “Where are we?” she asked.

The large burly fellow, who took up twice his share of room, began to respond. “On our way to Liv—Oop,” he gasped as the short, stocky man sitting next to him elbowed him in the ribs.

“Don’t tell her anything, Tiny.” The stocky man turned narrow eyes on Alexandra before hopping to the ground himself. Then the others, three in all, filed out after him. Tiny was the last to go.

“I know ye ain’t used to bein’ treated so rough and such, miss, I mean, m’lady,” he explained. “An’ Nathaniel ain’t a bad bloke. He wouldn’t ‘ave bothered ye if yer father ‘adn’t gone an’ nabbed—”

“Tiny, get out here.” Nathaniel scowled at them both through the door. “She’s not hurt.”

“No, sir. She ain’t. But she ain’t used to bein’ treated like this, an’ I was only tryin’ to explain that we didn’t want to do this. ‘Twas the only way.”

Nathaniel rolled his eyes. “I’m sure she feels much better now. If you’re finished apologizing, we’re ready.”

“Aye, sir.” Tiny’s small brown eyes, mere slits in his fleshy face, looked back at Alexandra. “Excuse me, m’lady,” he said and heaved his large bulk outside.

Nathaniel waited for Tiny to clear the door before leaning in again. “Come on, Miss High and Mighty, this is where we part with your carriage.” Grabbing Alexandra’s ankles, he slid her across the floor toward him. Then he wrapped his arm around her waist. “I can’t promise you a better seat, but I must insist you join us.”

“You’re making a big mistake,” Alexandra told him as he brought her up against his chest.

He gave her a devilish grin. “I’m sure it wouldn’t be my first.”

He carried her to a less conspicuous conveyance hidden in a copse of trees, a rented vehicle that looked more like an old stagecoach, and dumped Alexandra on the floor once again.

“Trenton, let Tiny drive,” he called, and the carriage swayed dramatically as Tiny hefted himself up top.

A tall, stringy man Alexandra hadn’t seen before climbed inside. Fair-complexioned, with strawberry-blond hair and brown eyes, he looked almost as out of place amid the other ruffians as Nathaniel did.

“Do you think we can make it before nightfall?” Nathaniel asked him.

“Not by a long shot. These old nags aren’t quite the animals your sister had pulling her around”—Trenton cast Alexandra a sideways glance—”but hers are lathered and need to rest. I’m not sure it would be wise to wait.”

“They’re not my horses. And that’s not my carriage.” Alexandra took a deep breath, hoping a simple, rational explanation might finally convince them. “I told you, my name is Alexandra Cogsworth. I’m simply a seamstress who put on this dress to escape my stepfather. And I have to make it to London in four days, or I’ll miss my boat to India.”

Nathaniel looked quizzically at her while Trenton stifled a laugh. “Perhaps we’re doing the Indians a favor, then.”

Alexandra shook her head in exasperation. “If I could, I’d show you my hands. I’ll wager that you’ve not seen a lady born to the nobility with calluses like mine. They come from hard work, not the kind of idle stitchery performed in drawing rooms after an eight-course meal.”

Nathaniel reached behind Alexandra and turned up her palms. He studied them for a moment, then looked to Trenton.

“I don’t know how she got those,” Trenton admitted, “but I told you, she’s Anne all right.”

Alexandra groaned. It didn’t help that she and the duke’s daughter had similar builds and coloring. “When was the last time any of you saw Lady Anne?”

“What was it, four or five years ago?” Nathaniel asked.

“It had to have been at least four. I saw her with your father in London,” Trenton said. “Remember?” He turned to Alexandra. “But I’ll never forget your face.”

Alexandra rolled her eyes. “Do you realize what you’re saying? You’ve kidnapped a woman based on someone you saw four years ago.”

“And I suppose Greystone’s carriage sitting outside that dressmaker’s doesn’t count for anything?” Trenton replied. “We saw you go in, remember?”

“I can explain that,” Alexandra said, and she tried to do so. But they purposefully ignored her. Talking amongst themselves, they left her to stew in her frustration.

“Let’s try and make it to Liverpool tonight,” Nathaniel said. “If the horses need a break, we can stop at a posting station.”

Alexandra finally fell silent and listened to every word that followed, trying to learn why she had been captured and what Nathaniel and his men had planned for her. If they wouldn’t let her go, she’d have to escape somehow.

But they said little to illuminate the mystery. Besides a few references to a ship docked at Liverpool, they spoke only of cargo and auctions and supplies. Still, the farther they took her from Manchester, the more frightened she became. If she missed Aunt Pauline, she’d be on her own.

What would they do when they eventually learned her true identity? she wondered. What would they do if they didn’t? Alexandra worried and fumed until, finally, the incessant rocking of the carriage made her too tired to keep up her vigil, and she slept.

* * *

Alexandra woke suddenly. She had been dreaming. Willy was beating her again. She had to get away. But as her eyes blinked open, moonlight filtering through the small window above her head illuminated the five gruff men who had abducted her. Willy was nowhere around. Only the pain was real. Her hands and feet were numb below the ropes that held them fast. They were beginning to swell, and her back ached terribly, as if she’d been sitting on the same hard floor for a week.

“Untie me.”

Nathaniel glanced up at the sound of her voice. The others had nodded off. A few were even snoring. He had been sleeping, too, but came instantly awake when she spoke, making Alexandra wonder if he ever lowered his guard.

“No.” He closed his eyes again.

“Please. I can’t feel my hands. Or do you think I might actually overpower the five of you if given my freedom?”

“I don’t fear you in any way.” He didn’t bother to look up.

“Then you’re simply being cruel.”

Blue eyes regarded her beneath half-open lids. “You’ve no idea of the meaning of the word, although your father is certainly a master of the discipline.”

“So he’s my father now? I don’t even know the man. But a few hours ago, he was our father, if I remember correctly.”

“Sometimes I’m loath to make the connection.” Nathaniel sighed and shifted in his seat.

“If he’s anything like you, that’s understandable,” Alexandra muttered. Struggling against her bonds, she tried to relieve the swelling in her hands. “What is it you want from me?”

“I want nothing from you. You are only a pawn.”

“So you don’t hate me personally. Only my father. Or rather, this duke of, what is it, Greystone?”

“You’re more astute than I would have guessed.”

“If you have nothing against me, then untie me.”

A lazy smile told her he wasn’t even tempted. “If I unloose your claws, I’d not get any sleep. I can hardly believe the hellcat we carried away from Manchester would sit, docile.”

“A brougham is coming up from behind,” Tiny called from the driver’s seat.

Nathaniel tensed and sat up. “At this pace?”

“What is it?” Trenton asked, yawning.

“Someone is about to overtake us,” Nathaniel explained. “Pull off the road on the down slope of the next hill as soon as you can find sufficient cover,” he called back to Tiny. “We can’t outdistance anyone with these nags.”

“Who do you suppose it is?” asked a man with the shadow of two or three days’ beard growth.

“I don’t think it’s anything to do with us. But we can’t be too sure.” Nathaniel leaned over and opened the door, sticking his head out to peer behind them.

A biting, cold wind smelling of heather and gorse rushed into the carriage, making Alexandra shiver. While the day had been warm, the night promised to be chilly, and she had fled Madame Fobart’s without so much as a cloak.

“They’re too far back for me to see,” Nathanial reported.

Alexandra pictured an approaching vehicle, its corner lanterns cutting through the night, and wondered who it could be. Nathaniel, no doubt, feared it was the duke, or someone who served his interests, coming after Lady Anne. But Alexandra doubted Greystone had reason to pursue them beyond retrieving his carriage. Why would he care about the abduction of a mere needlewoman?

Alexandra thought it might be Willy. While he owned no carriage, he could have rented one. Rushing to her rescue was definitely out of character, but trying to retrieve something that belonged to him was not. She had half the money for the skirts, and she made his living. He’d be loath to lose her, for all of his abuse.

Suddenly the carriage ground to a halt, and the three men sitting on Alexandra’s right nearly landed on the floor on top of her. She was thrown against Nathaniel’s and another man’s knees. Then they were all jarred back and forth as Tiny headed off the road, presumably toward some kind of cover. When they finally stopped, everyone except Nathaniel jumped out, each pulling a knife from his boot or a pistol from his belt.

“Conceal yourselves well,” Nathaniel cautioned in a low voice. “We don’t want a fight unless we’re forced to it.”

“I’ll take a fight whenever I can get one,” someone whispered back with a coarse laugh.

“Not tonight. We’ve better things to do with our time,” Nathaniel told him.

The door slammed shut as the sound of horses galloping down the road grew loud. Alexandra hated the thought of seeing Willy again, yet she prayed for some kind of rescue. The manner in which her kidnappers had drawn their weapons left little doubt that they knew how to use them, or that they would hesitate should the need arise.

Nathaniel bent down to grab Alexandra by the arm and pull her up against him. “Just in case you have any idea of screaming,” he said, “I wouldn’t.” Producing a gleaming six-or seven-inch stiletto, he held it to her neck.

The brougham was close now. The rumbling of horses, iron wheels, and creaking wood vibrated the ground. Alexandra could scarcely breathe, but she could feel the razor-sharp edge of the knife pressed to her skin, could almost taste its metallic blade.

Nathaniel thought she was Lady Anne. By his own admittance, she was a pawn he planned to use against the Duke of Greystone. Certainly, he wouldn’t be foolish enough to kill her and lose his advantage. Or would he?

The glimmer of a lantern appeared outside whilst the horses beat their quick tattoo in the dirt. Whoever traveled the lonely road wasn’t slowing down. In a few seconds, her only hope of rescue might be gone.

Twisting slightly, Alexandra sank her teeth deep into the hand that held the knife, then she screamed with an abandon she had never known.

Nathaniel cursed and lunged on top of her. She fully expected the blade to slice her throat. Instead, he threw it away, letting it clatter to the floor as he shifted his grip on her. Scarcely had her voice risen on the night air than Nathaniel used the only thing available to him to silence her: his mouth. The salty taste of his blood, still on her lips, filled her mind as his tongue forced its way between her teeth, stifling her cry for help.

Somehow reluctant to bite again, Alexandra writhed, attempting to free herself, to gasp for air, to scream again. But without the use of her hands or feet, she could do little. Nathaniel was too strong, too big. He stretched out, lying on top of her, until she couldn’t move at all.

Spent, she listened to the receding sounds of the passing carriage until only an echo remained.

She was helpless.

Nathaniel’s breath warmed Alexandra’s ear. His heart thumped, almost audibly, above her own, but he didn’t move for what seemed like a long time. When finally he rolled off, she gasped at the anger in his face.

“You’re lucky you didn’t do this to Garth,” he told her, looking at her teeth marks in his hand. “Some of my men are not so long-suffering as I. Next time, you’ll wear a gag and a hood.” He ripped a piece of silk from the hem of her dress with his teeth, then wound it around his wound.

Alexandra swallowed hard, knowing he meant every word. She had gambled on the brougham, but her wager hadn’t paid off.

And now Nathaniel held all the cards.

* * *

They reached Liverpool late in the night. Alexandra was exhausted. The ropes around her hands cut deep into her wrists, but she dared not complain, not while the bandage around Nathaniel’s hand was stained red with his blood.

“Get me a room,” Nathaniel told Tiny when they stopped outside an inn called the Turnbull Tavern. “I’ll stay here with our fair captive while the rest of you head back to the ship. If I haven’t heard anything from my father in three days, I’ll meet you on board.”

“An’ what will ye do with ‘er in that case? Turn ‘er loose?” Tiny asked hopefully.

“I’ll turn her loose when Greystone releases Richard, and no sooner,” Nathaniel replied as the rest of them climbed out, “just like our message said.”

“But—”

“Tiny, now isn’t the time to develop a conscience,” Trenton piped up. “None of us likes capturing defenseless females any more than you do, least of all Nathaniel. Just follow orders and everything will work out all right.”

“Aye, sir.” Tiny glanced at Alexandra. “But she may be nothin’ like the duke.”

“And she might be a lot like him.” Nathaniel saluted Alexandra where she sat, still on the floor of the carriage, with his injured hand. “She’s certainly not as defenseless as one might suppose.”

Alexandra didn’t respond. She felt as though she’d been dragged for miles, and she couldn’t wait to sleep on something softer than the floor of the old carriage. The last thing she wanted right now was an argument.

She watched Tiny’s broad back disappear into the inn, a Tudor-style building on one of the wider streets in town, before it occurred to her that her situation might not have improved. Where was she going to sleep? Nathaniel had told Tiny to rent only one room, and she doubted whether he’d be kind enough to give her the bed. The only thing in her favor was their supposed close relation. It precluded the possibility of her being raped as well as kidnapped, especially now that the others were returning to their ship.

“What if Greystone wants to exchange? Will you send for us first?” Trenton asked.

“I’ll not arrange a meeting with him, if that’s what you mean. It would be a trap. When I have proof that Richard is free, I’ll leave Anne with money enough to get home, and we’ll be far away by the time she makes it.”

Alexandra sighed in despair at this revelation. She could languish as their captive for an eternity before the Duke of Greystone released Nathaniel’s man. He’d surely not act on her account, not when his own daughter was safe and sound in Manchester, or Scotland, or wherever it was Lady Anne’s mother lived.

“Good enough,” Trenton said. “We’ll be ready to sail when you arrive.”

Tiny returned with a key for Nathaniel. “The steward will bring ye some food,” he said. “Yer room is up the stairs, first door on the right.”

Nathaniel turned to Alexandra. “Are you ready, m’lady?” he mocked.

“Aren’t you going to cut me loose?” she asked. “You can’t very well carry me in there like this.”

“You’ve got a point.” Turning to Garth, Nathaniel said, “I’ll need the gag, and the hood, I believe.”

“No! I won’t make a sound. I promise.” Alexandra pressed back as far away from him as she could. “I can’t bear the thought of that hood. Please, don’t put it back on.”

“Why does it bother you so?” Trenton asked curiously, but Alexandra didn’t answer, knowing they wouldn’t believe her anyway.

She kept her eyes trained on Nathaniel. “I won’t so much as murmur, I swear.”

“Forgive me if I tend to be doubtful of someone who would like nothing more than to bring the whole place down around me.”

Climbing back inside, he took Alexandra by the shoulders. “Tie it on while I hold her, will you Trenton?”

Trenton paused. “She has such an aversion to that bag. Isn’t there another way? What if I carried her up the back stairs?”

Nathaniel hesitated. “We can’t risk it. We might encounter someone. Just tie it on. She’ll survive.”

Alexandra thrashed about, resisting them until they were grunting and breathing heavily with the effort. “She’s certainly got spirit,” she heard one of them exclaim when both the gag and the hood were finally in place.

“I hate to see her abused too badly,” Trenton replied.

“She’s just spoiled,” Nathaniel scoffed. “Don’t you go soft on me like Tiny.”

“But look at her.”

Alexandra couldn’t stop the spasms that began to rack her body as soon as the hood was knotted securely about her neck. She had to breathe through the bag and the wadded strip of cloth as well, and it felt for all the world as though she’d suffocate.

“We’ve got to take it off,” Trenton exclaimed. “She’s having a fit.”

“Or she’d like us to think so. Just throw my cloak over her so it will look like I’m carrying my sleeping wife up to our room. Quickly,” Nathaniel demanded. “The hood will come off soon enough.”

Nathaniel scooped Alexandra up while Trenton covered her with his cloak. “It’ll only be a minute,” he assured her. Then she felt herself being carried swiftly into the stifling hot inn. A piano played in the background, originating from what sounded like a crowded tavern, but the pungent smell of tobacco smoke was the last thing she remembered.

* * *

Nathaniel felt Anne go limp in his arms. Was this some kind of trick? His sister was more of a fighter than he ever dreamed she would be, especially after having been raised with everything she could ever want. He had expected Anne to prove herself a simpering female, duly frightened of him and his men. But this woman was strong and resourceful. Or she was used to manipulating others to achieve her own ends. He couldn’t decide which.

He shook her, attempting to elicit some response.

Anne’s head lolled on his shoulder.

Nathaniel began to worry that something might really be wrong. Scaling the stairs as quickly as possible, he flung back the door to their room and laid her on the bed. Then he removed the hood and the gag.

She was unconscious. Nathaniel stared down at her, feeling a twinge of guilt at having abducted a completely innocent woman. His half sister was not to blame for the way his father had treated him, but Nathaniel could figure no better way to obtain Richard’s release. And his friend had to come first.

With his stiletto, Nathaniel cut the ropes that bound her wrists and ankles. Then he began to massage her hands and feet, trying to improve the blood flow. He had heard much about his sister’s beauty. Looking at her now, he had to admit that the reports fell far short of reality. Silky strands of long golden hair, loosened from her coiffure, gleamed around a delicate oval face. Thick lashes rested on her cheeks. She had a small, pert nose and a full, sensual mouth. Nathaniel couldn’t help but remember the feel of her soft lips beneath his own. That he’d actually enjoyed the sensation greatly bothered him.

He had to be careful, or he would become as weak willed as Trenton and Tiny. Though he had never seen Anne before, she was his half sister. She and a son had been born to the duke and his second wife after the death of Nathaniel’s own mother, and anything so closely connected to Greystone was—had to be—anathema to him.

Nathaniel dropped Anne’s hand when her eyes fluttered open.

“Where am I?” she asked, then groaned when she saw him. “I hoped you were just another bad dream. But dreams don’t taste like blood, do they?”

“No.” Nathaniel turned as a knock resounded at the door. “That’s our supper. You’re hungry, no doubt.”

Anne rubbed her temples as though trying to relieve a headache. “Among other things,” she said dryly. “Providing meals must be one of the problems associated with abducting people.”

Nathaniel paused to look back at her. “Keeping them sane is another. That hood makes you a little crazy.”

“I wasn’t afraid of the dark before...”

“Before what?”

“Before Willy.”

The knock came again. Nathaniel crossed the room to answer it. “Who’s Willy?” he asked, his hand on the knob.

Anne sighed. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

* * *

Supper consisted of poached salmon, jacket potatoes, cut greens, leg of mutton, and several dishes Alexandra didn’t recognize. She ate ravenously. She had seldom experienced such sumptuous fare and had no intention of letting any of it go to waste, despite her circumstances.

The food seemed to appeal to Nathaniel less. He sat back and watched her, occasionally tipping a glass of wine to his lips.

“Do you always eat so voraciously?” he asked in amazement when Alexandra ladled seconds onto her plate. “Or is it your strategy to break me before your father can send for you?”

She glanced up to see a smile play at the corners of his mouth.

“I haven’t had a bite to eat all day,” she complained. “Besides, food takes my mind off the pain in my hands and feet. They ache terribly, you know.”

His brows lifted. “Yes, you look as though you’re in a great deal of pain.”

“I am,” Alexandra cried indignantly. “You and your men are brutes to keep me tied up all day.”

“I’m holding you for ransom. Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do?”

He was teasing her. Alexandra ignored him, savoring her last bite of a delicious pudding she had never tasted before and could not now identify. The hotel room wasn’t large, but it was clean. Decorated in ivory and green and furnished with a tester bed, an elaborate washstand with a tiled back, a large wardrobe, and a thick pile rug to cover the wood floor, it lacked only a fireplace. Had Alexandra been staying at the inn for any other reason, she might have found it quite comfortable.

“If you consume so much when you’re hurt and upset, I’d hate to see what you require when you’re not. I pray you don’t forgive me,” he chuckled, intruding upon her thoughts.

“There’s not much danger in that.” Alexandra tried to put some fire into her words, but it was difficult to sound angry when she was so full and sleepy. Besides, she had been right about Nathaniel. He was exceptionally handsome when he smiled. She let her gaze slide over his face, feeling a blush rise to her cheeks as she remembered the feel of his tongue parting her lips.

“I’m glad to see that you’re at least as tired as I am,” he commented, oblivious to the course of her thoughts. “Otherwise, it would be difficult to sleep on the floor.”

She grimaced, wondering how she could have thought him appealing only a moment before. He was a black-hearted scoundrel, nothing more. “I expected as much. You’d think you’d treat your sister with at least a little kindness and respect.” Alexandra knew she was foolish to play on Nathaniel’s belief that she was Lady Anne, but his haughtiness goaded her. “Do I at least get a blanket or a pillow?”

“You’ll get what you earn.”

Alexandra set her fork on the table with a thunk. “What does that mean?”

“I could use a good massage.”

“Hire a maid.”

“Why should I, when I’ve got you? Besides, I can’t exactly bind and gag you and sit you in the corner. And I can’t invite anyone to my room with you on the loose.”

Alexandra picked her fork back up and twirled it thoughtfully. “Only if I can earn the bed,” she said at last. “An hour’s massage for one night of sound sleep.”

“A massage from a woman unused to giving that sort of thing—of giving anything—isn’t worth the bed. My best offer is a pillow and a blanket.”

“I have strong hands.” Alexandra stood, rounded the table, and began to knead his shoulders.

He moaned. “Very well. You can earn the bed.”

Alexandra smiled to herself. Mayhap she could cause Nathaniel to lower his guard after all.

When Nathaniel had set their dishes outside the door, he removed his shirt, exposing broad shoulders that tapered to a lean waist. A matting of dark hair covered his chest, trailing down his flat stomach to a mysterious end somewhere below his belt.

Alexandra had to fight the impulse to stare. This man was a criminal. He had abducted her. Yet she could not explain the tremor that went through her at the sight of his naked torso.

With effort, she pulled her gaze away and had him lie across the bed. She was not experienced with massage to any great extent, though sometimes her fellow needlewomen relieved the aches and pains caused from long hours of sitting by rubbing one another’s backs. Alexandra felt somewhat confident she could improvise from there. Of course, Nathaniel expected her to have received many massages over her lifetime. Such luxury was a favorite pastime of the aristocracy.

Nathaniel’s back was smooth and tanned to a honey brown. Though Alexandra couldn’t help noticing his narrow hips, firm buttocks and long legs, it was his deformed arm that held her interest the longest. It was misshapen, to be sure, but it wasn’t a hideous appendage. The same golden skin covered it as the other.

“What’s wrong?” Nathaniel’s eyes seemed to measure Alexandra carefully. “Are you going to give me a massage, or do you share our father’s distaste for my deformity?”

Alexandra glanced away, embarrassed to have been caught gaping at him. “I was just wondering how I was going to get you off the bed should you fall asleep on it,” she lied.

“You wouldn’t get me off. You’d run away. That’s why I won’t fall asleep.”

Alexandra smiled in spite of herself. He thought he had guessed her plan. Perhaps she could surprise him.

Climbing onto the bed, she positioned herself on her knees for maximum strength, then began to smooth out the corded muscles in Nathaniel’s back and neck. An occasional sigh told her she was successful in her desire to relax him, and to her surprise, she soon found herself enjoying her work. Nathaniel’s physical attributes were exceptional, from his thick black hair to his cleft chin. And there was something sensual about the way he smelled—all dust and sweat, leather and horses.

As Alexandra’s hands glided over his warm skin, she wondered about the vendetta between Nathaniel and the Duke of Greystone. Why did Nathaniel hate his father so badly? Why would he risk a hangman’s noose to capture his sister? And what would he do when he finally learned that she was not Lady Anne?

Alexandra dismissed the last question as irrelevant. She wouldn’t be around to find out. She’d be well on her way to London and to the safety of her aunt.

Nathaniel’s eyes closed, and Alexandra felt the tension leave his body. She doubted he was asleep, but she only needed to dull his reaction by a fraction of a second. Keeping one hand working the muscles on each side of his spine, she reached back for the stiletto he kept in his right boot.

Groaning softly when her fingers touched a particularly tender spot, Nathaniel shifted as if to make himself more comfortable. Alexandra almost had the knife. Gently lifting the leg of his pant, she quickly grasped the handle and pulled. The stiletto slid easily from its place, but Nathaniel’s reflexes were quicker than her own. He had her on her back, pinned beneath him, before she could threaten him in any way.

“It would seem my massage is being cut short, so to speak.” He grinned, squeezing her hand until she dropped the knife. “Too bad. It felt good while it lasted, perhaps proving that even you have a few redeeming talents. Now I shall enjoy a good night’s rest while you languish on the floor.”

“You had no intention of giving me the bed. You were only using it to bait me.”

“Let’s just say that I have now learned what I needed to know. At least I won’t feel guilty while you sit on the floor, tied like a dog to the post.”

Alexandra tried to free her hands from his punishing grip. She wanted to wipe that enraging smirk off his face. “I’ll scream if you bring that rope near me.”

“Then I’ll gag you. For someone who hates a hood, you’re willing to risk much.”

“You’re a cad.”

“Which is far better than a fool, and a fool I’d be to let you get the better of me.”

His eyes glittered like sun glinting off a blue sea, and Alexandra realized that Nathaniel might be many things, but a fool he was not. He had the senses of a cat, and the athletic prowess to match.

“Let me up,” she said. “You’re hurting me.”

“Certainly.” Kicking the knife far away from her reach, Nathaniel let her go. “No doubt you’re ready to retire, now that sleeping arrangements have been made.”

Almost before Alexandra knew her own mind, her hand lashed out and slapped Nathaniel’s jeering face. They both rocked back, surprised when her palm hit its target with such force. A red welt appeared almost instantly.

“I’m glad you’re so eager to deserve whatever treatment you receive,” he said, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her to the foot of the bed. “I was going to leave you enough rope to lie down, but with your peculiar brand of wisdom, you’d only hang yourself with it.”

“No!” Unwilling to suffer the pain and degradation of being tied up all night, Alexandra began to struggle again. But it was only a matter of minutes before her hands were bound in front of her and then tied to the bed. As Nathaniel had promised, she didn’t have enough rope to lie down.

“You’d better hope I don’t get free,” she threatened. “ You have to sleep sometime.”

“I’ll take my chances,” he replied. “Perhaps I’m giving you too much credit, but if you do manage to get loose, it wouldn’t be a good idea to bother with me. The door is that way.”

“Oh... you! You’re insufferable!” Bringing her knees up between her arms, Alexandra laid her head down and tried to block Nathaniel from her consciousness. She soon realized, however, that she would have to address him again.

“You’ve got to untie me. I’ve got to...” she stopped, wondering how to tell him what she needed. “A lady needs a little privacy occasionally.”

He crossed the room and retrieved the chamber pot from its place behind a cloth curtain in one corner of the room.

“You’re not going to untie me?” Alexandra asked in surprise.

“You don’t deserve it.”

“But how will I—”

“You’ll figure it out.”

“I deserve to take care of natural bodily functions without you watching my every move.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. I have no interest in watching you.” He stretched out on the bed, lying on his stomach, his face buried in the crook of his arm.

Alexandra made no move until she thought Nathaniel was asleep. “Boar... ogre,” she muttered to herself. “I hope your father catches you and hangs you from the tallest tree.”

He didn’t respond.

She pulled and twisted on the rope, but the knot proved tight and well made. She only managed to jerk the bed a few inches from the wall.

“Hold still,” Nathaniel snapped, rolling onto his back and covering his eyes with his arm.

Alexandra glared at him. “There will come a time, when I will even the score.”

“Plan your revenge tomorrow,” he told her. “Get some sleep. You might need it.”

With a sigh of defeat, Alexandra waited as long as she could before relieving herself. Then she eyed the screen dubiously, wondering how to return the pot to where it belonged. She certainly had no desire to sleep with it.

Suddenly a wicked thought made her lips curl into a smile. Grabbing the enamel pot around the base, she prepared to launch it right on top of Nathaniel, smelly contents and all, when a cutting voice gave her pause.

“You can’t imagine the terror of what I will do to you if you don’t put that thing down immediately.”

So he was awake. Alexandra’s smile withered. He didn’t move to stop her, didn’t so much as remove his arm from across his eyes, but she got the feeling he was almost daring her to incur his full wrath.

She clung to the pot for a long time, so sorely tempted that she had a difficult time letting wisdom overtake desire. When she finally set it down, she did so carefully, to ensure it wouldn’t splash on her, then pushed it as far under the bed as she could. If she made Nathaniel too angry, she’d start a fight she could only lose. And she didn’t want to incite his imagination as to the possibilities of what a strong man could do to a captive woman. He was a scoundrel if ever she’d met one. But he was right about one thing. Tomorrow was another day, and she’d do her best to make it as miserable for him as possible.