The Road to Ruin

by Bronwyn Stuart

  Her life was so wildly out of control and she had no choices left to her to gain it back. A chill settled on her arms and, as she crossed them over her chest, her toe caught the edge of an exposed tree root impossible to see in the dark. She stumbled. Before she could fall in the dirt, one strong arm snaked across her middle at the same time a hand closed over her mouth.

  Her first thought was to kick out, to scream and throw her body weight away from her attacker. But then she sagged with relief. Her father had come at last.

  *

  To crow his victory would have been far too loud but it’s what Patrick wanted to do. Just as he wondered how he was ever going to get Daniella away from Trelissick, she fell right into his arms.

  “Don’t struggle, lass. Will ye scream if I take my hand away?”

  She shook her head, her mouth curving into a smile against his hand. He dropped it away and pulled her off the path behind the trunk of a large tree.

  As soon as he stepped away from her, she came towards him and punched him in the nose.

  “What did ye do that for?”

  “You could have told me you were one of my father’s men,” she huffed, holding her hand and beginning to pace.

  “I’m not. I don’t even know your father.” His eyes swam with moisture as he gingerly felt the bridge of his nose to be sure the chit hadn’t broken it. Damn, that had hurt.

  “You don’t have to lie; I won’t tell James.”

  “Come now, lass, I don’t believe that for even a hen’s heartbeat.”

  She stopped, threw him a glare and then continued her pacing.

  “With luck, you won’t see him again anyway.” Patrick took her arm and began towing her back towards the barn. But what to do with her while he saddled his horse? And what of supplies? They would need more than the dried bread and small amount of clean water he had left from the day’s ride.

  “Where is my father? Is he near? Did he come by carriage or by ship?”

  “I told you already, lass, I don’t know your father. Yet.” Patrick transferred his grip from her arm to her wrist but still he pulled her along.

  Daniella reclaimed her wits and resisted, throwing all of her inconsiderable body weight in the opposite direction until he was forced to stop or drag her along the ground. “What is going on?”

  He tugged on her arm, maybe a little harder than he should have, but they had to be away from there before she was missed and a search organized. “We have to go. Now.”

  She tugged again, her feet digging in. “I was not escaping. I’m going for a walk. You can tell Trelissick that I will come back in one hour if he should ask.”

  “You’re not escaping?” This time he stopped. He turned and regarded her with a raised brow.

  “No. I just want to dip my feet in the ocean. I’m not used to being stuck in a carriage with His Highness for days on end.”

  “We don’t have time for this. I have to get you away from here.”

  “Why?”

  After hours of Patrick pressing home that he couldn’t fully help to protect Daniella if he didn’t have all the facts, Hobson had finally revealed why the party travelled together. When he heard what Lasterton was hoping to recover from Captain Germaine, he’d barely been able to hide his fury.

  Was there no line the marquess, the Butcher, wouldn’t cross? There, in the harsh truth, was the reason Patrick hadn’t been able to find any trace of Amelia. Whatever he’d feared her brother had done—sent her to a convent; even smothered her, as murderous as the dead eldest Trelissick—he certainly hadn’t imagined he’d let her be taken by pirates. When he realized she was gone, he’d had nothing to go on and no one to ask. He had tried to gather information from the household but Trelissick had few servants in the city and he couldn’t risk his questions getting back to the marquess. Then the damned man had gone to ground and Patrick had wasted months traveling back and forth between Trelissick’s country estate and his house in the capital. One night his watching had paid off when the marquess had snuck into his own house via the servants’ entrance to the kitchens, dressed in dirty trousers, a shirt that had once been white and a coat that could barely be described as such. Not exactly the actions of a ton gentleman.

  Patrick stared at Daniella, exasperated. “Why? Why would you want to stay with a man such as he? I can take you to your father but we have to go now.”

  “But you just said you don’t know my father.”

  “I don’t. I just want Amelia back.”

  “Amelia? The marquess’s sister? What has she to do with my father?”

  “Do you know nothing?”

  “I have never been so confused! I thought Amelia and James’s mother were traveling on the continent?”

  “Did you never wonder why the marquess truly has you?”

  “My father has something of his and James is to swap me for…” Realization dawned on her face and her eyes widened. “You’re wrong. What would he…? How would he…? No. I don’t believe it.”

  “Believe it, lass, heard it from Hobson myself this afternoon. A daughter in exchange for a mother and sister.”

  She paused, clearly evaluating this new information. “You can’t take me to him: it isn’t the same.”

  “Same what? Why can I not be the one to trade you?”

  “You have no leverage. My father will order you to return me to London. There is no danger about you.”

  That should have smarted but it didn’t. Now he was the confused one. “What is the danger behind Trelissick?”

  Daniella shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut and Patrick had to curl his fingers so as not to scare the truth from her.

  “It’s a long story,” she said with a sigh.

  “Here’s the story as I know it. Your da has Amelia and I am going to get her back before all of this scheming sends her to the bottom of the ocean. I have to find her. She is—She is not…strong.”

  “If the captain does have her, he won’t hurt her.”

  “He’s a bloody pirate! And if he harms a hair on her head, he will have me to answer to!”

  Patrick ground his teeth as Daniella shook her head, her expression one of defeat, of resignation, of exhaustion. “Why do men think they can solve every problem with threats? If my father holds Amelia, he does so for a good reason.”

  Patrick made to interrupt but Daniella raised a hand between them and shook her head.

  “It is not in his nature to hurt a defenceless woman. Despite what you’ve heard about pirates, my father’s crew are not defilers of young ladies nor burners of villages nor killers of children. If, and I do mean if because I am beginning to think you are all quite mad, if he has Amelia and has not ransomed her, then his quarrel is with Trelissick and not you. You have not earned yourself his nickname. You did not stab my father in the leg so that he lost it. You did not take his livelihood and adventure away from him. Trelissick did. Trelissick is the only one who can hand me over. My father will not like that he has me but he will not particularly care if you do.”

  The possibilities swam in his mind until he wanted to pull his hair out. She was right. Damn the chit. But the Butcher could not be trusted and Daniella should have known that more clearly than anyone.

  A stunning realization hit him and he staggered, his hand against the trunk of a nearby tree.

  “What’s the matter? Patrick? I’m sorry this isn’t going the way you thought it would.”

  He shook his head. Trelissick was never going to give him Amelia. Even if the marquess did get his sister back, there was no way he was going to say goodbye to her and hand her over to him. Patrick would still be minus the one woman he knew he had to have. The only woman who could provide him with both redemption and love.

  And damn it all, now Daniella knew who he was. He should never have spilled his secrets before getting her away from there.

  “Say something, please?” Her soft touch on his arm had him lifting his gaze. Worry filled her eyes and her lips were pressed toget
her in a tight line.

  “When did it all get so difficult?” he asked.

  “I know when that happened for me, but when did it go so wrong for you?”

  He would tell her nothing else. He shook his head and asked, “Where do we go from here?”

  “Well, it seems I will be getting no walk tonight. I have to go back before Trelissick discovers me gone.”

  “What will you tell him about me?”

  “I won’t tell him anything. You must care for Amelia a great deal and I won’t stand in the way of that but you can’t do this again. I have no wish to escape the marquess yet, or possibly at all. I have even less desire for him to watch my every single move so closely that I never get any peace.”

  “Are you sure this is the best way? What if you’re wrong about Trelissick? We could be wasting precious time.”

  “I promise you, on my own life, no harm will come to Amelia if my father holds her.”

  Patrick wanted to trust her, he did. Her big green eyes shone with sincerity in the moonlight but she was the daughter of a pirate who was tangling with a man known across half the continent as the Butcher. If he had the chance to take Amelia away from it all, he would do it. By any means necessary.

  Chapter Fifteen

  By the light of the full moon, James never took his eyes from Daniella’s form. What the hell was the chit up to now? The only reason he hadn’t jumped out the window and chased after her was because this particular cove went nowhere and the waters were too dangerous for a ship to get close. The innkeeper had given him a very long and detailed history lesson while James gulped down his ale as though the bottom of the mug held the answers he sought.

  Unless she thought to climb the cliffs on either side of the sand, she would be coming back. Only a few minutes passed and the puzzle grew more complicated as Patrick also slipped into the woods between the inn and the ocean. James couldn’t see as far as the sand and after twenty minutes of tense waiting, he was about to join the two and find out what the bloody hell they were about when Daniella re-emerged from the cover of the trees.

  If this was her brilliant getaway plan then she had learned nothing about scheming at all. Good thing for him.

  When she stopped at the base of the building and pulled her skirt up and tied it in a knot, James saw red.

  He crept from his room and used the key to unlock her door. As soon as he stepped into the space, the breeze from the open window was cool on his chest without a waistcoat or coat to cover the fine fabric. How in the hell she had made it from the sill to the ground he had no clue but if she didn’t break her neck climbing back up, he was thinking about doing it for her.

  As he made his way to the bed to wait for her to come back through the window, unable to simply stand by and watch her fall, which was certainly a possibility he could do nothing about, he noticed something odd. It looked as though someone was already beneath the covers. A closer inspection revealed layers of petticoats in the rough shape of a sleeping woman.

  James raked a hand through his hair and pulled on the strands. He was definitely going to kill her.

  He made to blow out the candle but hesitated. The little dagger she had stolen from the dead man sat there on the bed stand as though it shouldn’t be in her hand right now. He picked it up, snuffed the candle and crept towards the window. He aligned his body so he was flush against the wall, his back to the corner.

  Then he waited.

  Quicker than he thought possible, one slim, very bare leg poked through the opening, five little toes bending and pointing as she stretched her foot to the floor. James held himself at the ready in the shadows, dagger in one hand, the other clenched into a tight fist.

  By the time the other naked leg came through the window, James had had more than enough. There she stood, attempting to catch her breath, her skirt pulled almost all the way up to her derriere, hands gripping the sill. She hadn’t seen him yet but she must have known something wasn’t quite right. She looked towards the bed and the candle, a frown pinching her lips and eyes together as her breath held. As soon as her hands were free of the window frame, James pounced.

  His free arm wrapped around her stomach and she shrieked and began to struggle. He brought the knife to the delicate skin of her throat and she went as still as the dead.

  “What are you doing, you filthy cur?” she hissed.

  “Tut tut, I wouldn’t say too much, my dear—I fear this knife to be very sharp.”

  “Let me go.”

  “What were you doing outside just now?”

  “I went for a walk.”

  “Liar!” He tightened his arm around her and held the knife that little bit closer.

  A shudder racked her and he had to use all his power not to pull the blade away and offer his apologies. He’d meant to scare her for a moment, not give her an apoplexy.

  “All I wanted was to take a walk.”

  “I don’t believe you,” he murmured, his mouth close to the lush skin of her neck. He’d bet the sea air would have infused the spot right beneath her lobe.

  “If I wasn’t taking a walk, what was I doing?”

  He had to keep his head. “Why don’t you tell me? You and McDonald must be quite the chums now.”

  She flinched beneath his palm. “He saw me out there and thought I was escaping.”

  “So why didn’t he raise the alarm then?”

  “Because unlike you, he believed I was truly going for a walk and accompanied me. Please let me go. You’re actually going to hurt me.”

  “Why aren’t you afraid of anything?” he asked with frustration. Her voice held no fear at all. “Anything could have happened to you out there. Anyone could have come upon you and you would have been unarmed and at the devil’s mercy.”

  “I am at no devil’s mercy.” The half laugh that followed her words did nothing to calm his fury.

  “You are at my mercy.”

  “You need me, therefore you won’t do anything to harm me.”

  He wasn’t sure if it was the boy in him, the man, or the Butcher, who responded to her cocky statement. He dropped his arm to gently stroke the bare skin of her thigh where her dress was still knotted. At first his touch was soft, controlled, as was he. “Invincibility is a trait of the gods, Daniella, not the daughter of a pirate. If I wanted you, I could take you and so could any other man with muscle on his arm.”

  “Don’t you dare.” Her whispered words held no conviction whatsoever and he wondered if he was winning this battle or if she only led him to believe he could.

  “Oh, I dare.” His fingers tightened around her leg, his thumb inching closer to her undoing with every firm caress.

  “You said you wouldn’t do this.”

  “When did I say that?”

  “You don’t even find me attractive.”

  Inching closer and closer, his thumb finally brushed against the edge of the barely there drawers beneath her hiked-up skirts. Only the thin scrap of fabric saved her at this point. “Attraction has nothing to do with this. Someone needs to teach you a lesson.”

  In his arms, she groaned, her head falling back onto his shoulder, her breasts arching against the confines of her dress. “A lesson about what?” she asked breathlessly, her body tight and tense as she responded to him rather than cowering from him.

  “That a man is a man and he cannot be trusted.” He lifted his hand from her leg and brushed it up and over her stomach to gently squeeze her breast. “That you cannot control every situation you get yourself into.” He squeezed again and almost smiled when she arched into his hand, her backside rubbing over his growing erection. “That you are not invincible.”

  He loosened the ties at her neckline and yanked on the fabric, satisfied when it ripped. Reaching in, he cupped her naked skin, rolled her pebbled nipple in his fingertip. Her sharp intake of breath said she still wasn’t scared of him or the situation. The realization pulled him from the haze of the edge and he wondered if this was about teaching her a lesson
or finally giving in to the lust he felt when she was near.

  He turned her in his arms quickly and pushed her onto the bed. “Are you still feeling invincible?” he asked.

  “You’re not going to hurt me.” Her eyes opened and she pulled the edges of her wrecked gown together and started to rise but James jumped onto the bed, straddled her so she couldn’t rise, his hand to her shoulder to push her back down. He wanted to see just a touch of fear in her eyes. He wanted to know there was a shred of self-preservation in there somewhere, something to tell him that she did think about the consequences of her actions at some point and that she wasn’t a danger to herself and to him.

  “What the hell are you doing? I get it. I understand the lesson.”

  “Not yet.”

  “James, let me go now.”

  “I don’t want to.” He spun the knife in his hand until the blade pointed up and then slid it beneath the front of the gown and chemise.

  “Don’t—”

  In less than three seconds, she was bared to him from the waist up, her clumsy attempts to cover herself no use at all.

  He trailed the edge of the knife between her breasts right down to her navel. “Shall we continue?”

  She lifted her chin, resilience and fury lighting them bright green from within. “So you see me naked? What next? Are you going to stop at humiliation or are you going to rape me too?”

  He had gone much further than he should have and she was far stronger, and more stubborn, than he’d thought. Unless it was all an act? A slip of a girl couldn’t keep this up, but a skilled actress could hide her fear, the daughter of a pirate who was used to getting her own way in all things could too. He would have to change tactics.

  *

  “I don’t have to force you.”

  Despite the effort to hold on to her fury, Daniella’s bravado slipped and she gulped. “What do you mean by that?” Despite her voice being level and sure, despite the fact her fingers didn’t tremble and her hands were steady as she held them against her skin, she was beside herself. In what way, it still wasn’t entirely evident. At one moment she felt the thrill of the chase and would have gladly followed, the next, fury at his actions, the next, the heat pooled low in her belly and made her want to let him have his way with her. Any way he wished.