The Viscount's Willful Wife
Page 3
“Bloody hell,” a man shouted.
“What did you do?” another demanded, his words clear, near the carriage door.
Annabel fumbled for Kitty’s hand. Finding it, she dragged Kitty up onto the seat, and clutched her close.
The first man said something, his words muted.
“We weren’t to harm anyone,” the second replied.
He now stood directly outside. Pulling Kitty with her, Annabel slid down the seat, away from him.
“. . . only servants. More can be bought,” the first man said.
His voice grew louder as he spoke. Annabel realized he’d neared the side of the carriage where they huddled. They were surrounded. Her mind raced. Of all the things she’d worried could go wrong with their plan, highway robbers had never once occurred to her.
The second man said something, his voice garbled. He’d moved away. Annabel’s pulse leapt. The forest crowded the road. They had a chance if they could make it to the trees.
She started to pull free from Kitty, but Kitty clung to her. Annabel shot her a glare, then disentangled herself and scooted to the door. She reached for the handle.
“They both look like they’ll live, and you best hope they do, John. You took this too far.”
Annabel jerked back. He was near the door again.
“Let’s grab the women and get on with this,” replied John. “As usual, you’re taking all the fun out of it.”
The door beside Annabel jerked open. A large form blocked the sun. Light spilled in around him. She could make out little more than thick black hair. He leaned inside and she discerned deep blue eyes above a linen scarf that obscured half his face.
The door on the other side wrenched open. Kitty screamed. Annabel yanked her gaze to Kitty, who shrank against her. Another masked man stood outside Kitty’s door.
“Get out,” the man nearest Annabel ordered.
“You too,” the other man said, and Annabel recognized his voice as the one named John.
Annabel hugged Kitty close and snapped her head back around toward the man nearest her. She narrowed her eyes. “What have you done to my carriageman and footman? If you’ve murdered them, I will see you hang.”
“They’ll sleep for a time,” the man drawled. “I imagine they won’t have much love for us when they wake.”
“Not with the sore heads they’ll have,” John said, amused. “Now, come out of there, or I’ll come in and get you.”
“I think we must do as they ask,” Kitty whispered.
Annabel shook her head. “I am not leaving this carriage.” They couldn’t let themselves be taken. No one knew where they were. Only the carriageman and footman knew they’d left London. They’d persuaded their mothers they were spending the day shopping. They wouldn’t be missed for hours.
The black-haired man looked past them at his companion. “Feisty, isn’t she?”
“That’s your problem. I’m taking this one.” John reached for Kitty.
Kitty screamed and buried her face in Annabel’s shoulder. Annabel held tight, but John wrenched Kitty from her grasp. The sound of ripping fabric was like ice driven into Annabel’s skin.
“My dress,” Kitty wailed.
Annabel grabbed Kitty’s arm and yanked.
“Get your Miss off mine,” John shouted.
Fingers of iron seized Annabel’s waist. The black-haired man yanked her free of Kitty, and hauled her from the carriage. Annabel flailed, but she might as well have been assaulting a wall of stone.
“If you don’t settle down, I’ll throw you over my shoulder,” he said in deep, cultured tones.
Annabel thrashed harder. Her hair tumbled down into her eyes as her foot found a shin. He grunted. Her closed fist collided with his ear.
“Hellion,” he growled, and tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of grain.
“Monster!” She pounded his back with both fists.
He strode toward the woods without a reply.
Annabel’s hair streamed about her, undone and nearly touching the ground. Through her thick locks, she glimpsed her father’s men slumped in the carriage seat. Her blood chilled. Her attacker said they would live. She prayed to God he hadn’t lied. Anger swept through her. She kicked. Her fists hammered his back. Her abductor didn’t slow.
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