Captured by a Duke
Ladies Always Shoot First
Book One
Summer Hanford
A Scarsdale Publishing Half Hour Read
Captured by a Duke Book One Ladies Always Shoot First
Copyright © 2017 by Summer Hanford
All rights reserved
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Cover Design: R Jackson Designs
Cover Art: Period Images
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Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Epilogue
To Save a Lord
Chapter One
A nnabel tugged back the velvet curtain and leaned forward to peer out the carriage window. Trees sped past, but her gaze was drawn to the impenetrable darkness a few scant feet beyond the sun-kissed foliage. The forest looked invitingly cool compared to the heat inside the carriage.
She shifted her gaze to Kitty, seated across from her. “If we tie the curtains back, we can have more air.”
Kitty shook her head, brown curls bouncing about her misleadingly cherubic cheeks. “Too much dust will come in. Do you really want to meet your future husband coated in dust?”
“I still don’t understand how I’m to meet him without giving away who I am.” Annabel let the curtain fall back into place and snapped open her fan. She wasn’t certain which would make a worse impression; arriving coated in dust or with her blonde curls plastered against her forehead.
“Leave everything to me.” Kitty appeared enviably untouched by the summer heat.
“Why did I let you persuade me to trick the servants into taking us? Meeting the duke a day early will make no difference. I’ll still be forced to wed him.” Annabel shuddered. What could possibly have possessed her father to promise her to some uncouth backwater lord who couldn’t be bothered to visit London to court her?
“Don’t worry. I have a plan.” Kitty spoke with supreme confidence.
Annabel frowned. How many times had Kitty said those words? By now, Annabel should have learned not to go along with her friend’s plans. Somehow, they always ended in trouble, and this current scheme promised the most trouble of all. Sneaking off to meet a man, even her own fiancé, was nearly unforgiveable.
Yet, it had sounded so reasonable when Kitty suggested it. After all, it was only fair Annabel should have a chance to set eyes on Richard Darrius, Duke of Southwood, before she pledged her life to him. Now, though, she couldn’t imagine how she could meet him and then gracefully extract herself if she didn’t care for him.
“It had better be a good plan,” she muttered.
Kitty’s smile only added to her angelic guise. “One of my best.”
Annabel, less than reassured, decided they should turn back. She opened her mouth to say as much when the carriage skidded to a halt. Annabel flew from her seat. Kitty’s screech filled the small space. They collided in a tangle of limbs.
A gunshot roared.
Chapter Two
T he horses squealed. Annabel was thrown back against her seat as the carriage lurched forward. Kitty spilled onto the floor.
“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.
Chapter Three
T hey reached the shade of the trees. Fear lanced through Annabel anew. She twisted in an effort to break free as he carried her deeper into the murk of the forest. His arm clamped down tighter and tears sprang to her eyes.
If the men lived, they would tell her father what had happened and he would ransom her and Kitty. Annabel’s head swam. It wouldn’t matter that she and Kitty had fought to remain in the carriage. She squeezed her eyes shut against tears. They were ruined. Completely ruined. She had no idea if she would have come to care for the Duke of Southwood, but she would never find out. No duke would touch her now.
Annabel opened her eyes, determined to seek landmarks for an escape. Between her abductor’s legs and the wall of her hair, all she could discern was a narrow footpath winding through the forest shade. She went as still as she could, listening, but heard only faraway birdcalls and her captor’s footfalls through her panting. They were quite alone.
She struck him again, but dizziness sapped her strength. Her waist hurt where it rode his shoulder, though his stride was smooth. He held one arm around her waist, pinning her against him. She fought an urge to sob. He was a brute. A beast in man’s clothing.
Fine clothing, too, she noticed in an irrational moment. Too fashionable and costly for a common thief. What sort of bandit dressed so well? A gentleman? Could her fiancé have an enemy willing to kidnap her—a hanging offense—in order to thwart him? What sort of man had enemies like that? A terrible one, most likely.
“Settled down, have you?” her abductor asked.
Annabel clamped her teeth together. Her attention caught on the hilt of a pistol sticking up through his belt. She recalled the loud concussion earlier. The weapon looked two barreled. Even if he’d fired the shot, there should be a bullet left. Her three brothers had taught her how to shoot a pistol. Could she reach it before he realized her intention? With a man like this, she would get only one chance. She pressed her lips into a thin line, ignoring the throb in her head.
“Lass?” She almost heard a touch of worry in his voice. “Still with me?” He gave her midsection a squeeze.
“Where are you taking me?” she demanded.
He patted her legs. “Never thought I’d miss being beat on.”
Enraged by his amusement, Annabel snarled and thrashed with renewed fury. He clasped her buttocks with his free arm up. Shock reverberated through her. How dare he? With an inarticulate sound of rage, she kicked and pounded as hard as she could.
He clamped down tighter on her waist. She sucked in air, hardly able to breathe, but flailed until her limbs drained of strength. She went limp, gasping.
His grip eased. “I’m taking you to a cabin,” he said.
She started at the sound of his voice. A cabin? Why would he take her to a cabin? To lock her away? “Where is my friend?”
“John’s caring for her, I’m sure.”
Annabel bit her lip. The glimpse she’d gotten of John revealed hard hazel eyes above his mask.
Her abductor’s stride lengthened. Evenly spaced flagstones, dappled by sunlight, entered her swaying view. Annabel blinked, trying to clear spots from her vision. He ascended three steps. A door creaked. A threshold sped by, replaced by roughhewn floorboards. She watched his foot kick shut the door.
The smell of wood smoke permeated the air. She wasn’t sure if the flickering at the corner of her vision was firelight or a symptom of her inverted state. Her world tilted as he set her on her feet. Everything spun. She staggered, listing to the side. He grasped her shoulders, steadying her.
“Easy now,” he said.
Her vision righted. They stood in a large room, rustic but richly appointed, like her father’s hunting lodge. Annabel fixed her gaze on the dark blue eyes that stared at her above her abductor’s mask, and startled at the warmth in them. Heat kindled in his gaze. Her heart pounded. Did he intend to— He leaned toward her. Realizing he thought he’d won, Annabel seized her opening.
She slumped forward, as if overcome. He caught her. Annabel flushed at the unexpected solidity of his arms around her. Her heart pounded hard enough she worried that he would notice and guess her intention. Before he could tighten his embrace, she grabbed the pistol and pushed away with all her might. She stumbled back, breaking free.
He stared, eyes wide in surprise.
She retreated two more paces, pistol held ready before her. “Lower your mask, sir. I would know who I’m about to shoot.”
He tugged down the scarf, revealing a square jaw, and smiled with impressively even teeth. “You’re quite the hellion, aren’t you?”
“What I am or am not is nothing to you,” she snapped. “On your knees. I’m leaving, and you are not following me.”
His smile widened. “Do you even know how to use that?”
Annabel pulled back one of the hammers with a click. She could see from how clean the pistol was he wasn’t the one who shot earlier. “I know I have the dangerous end pointed at you.”
“That you do,” he agreed. “Why don’t you hand that pistol here?”
“I told you to get down on your knees.” She inched backward, toward the door.
“You won’t shoot,” he drawled. “I’ll only come after you. How much of a head start will you have?” His gaze raked her slender frame, then lifted again to her face. “You’re a slip of a thing. I’d be no man at all if I couldn’t outrun a lass in skirts. Where will you go?”
“Back up the path.” She retreated another step. “It must lead somewhere.” He made a good point about following her, though. Her gown and slippers would hamper her. She pressed her lips into a thin line, bracing herself. “I’m sorry for this.”
His eyes flew wide as she aimed the pistol at his leg—then squeezed the trigger. The pistol jerked in her hand, the sound deafening. He howled in pain and staggered backward. Annabel whirled and raced for the door.
Chapter Four
A nnabel wrenched open the door, ran down the steps and fled along the trail. Her abductor didn’t cry out again. She didn’t dare look back. She hoped she’d hurt him enough to hinder his pursuit, but not enough to have inflicted a fatal wound. Not that he didn’t deserve being shot. He’d ruined her. She clenched the pistol in one hand. She would worry about her future later. Now, she had to rescue Kitty.
Annabel tripped. She threw her hands out and caught herself against a tree, breathing hard. She cast a quick glance behind her. There was no sign of the man who’d abducted her.
Pushing off the rough bark, she set out at a hurried walk, focused on the path. All would be over if she turned an ankle. She had no idea how she would find Kitty.
Voices ahead caused her to halt and freeze like a deer catching wind of hunters. Who were the newcomers? Fear made her heart thunder. On shaky feet, she slipped from the path. She stopped at the first large tree. Back against the trunk, she slid down into a crouch. Slowly, she cocked the other barrel of the pistol.
As her heartbeat slowed, she recognized Kitty’s voice, drawing near. Annabel frowned. Her friend didn’t sound the least bit distressed. The other voice, to her surprise, was John the highwayman’s. Could Kitty have convinced the man not to harm her?
“ … what they’re up to,” Kitty’s voice floated toward her. “Even though they’re to marry, we can’t leave them alone too long.” As she spoke, Kitty’s words became closer and more distinct.
“My brother is too noble to be up to anything, even with your lovely friend.” John’s smooth voice raised the hair on the back of Annabel’s neck.
“Look here, you
aren’t to notice how lovely Annabel is,” Kitty said. “You promised yourself to me.”
“I did, and never have I been happier.”
Annabel’s mouth fell open. Kitty was engaged to John the highwayman? They couldn’t have been alone for more than half an hour.
“You’d better mean that,” Kitty teased.
“Of course I mean it, sweetheart.”
John’s voice reminded Annabel of a gentleman who once tried to compromise Kitty in her father’s garden. Kitty had fancied herself in love with the man, a complete cad. Luckily, Annabel knew a cad from a gentleman. She’d followed them with her dog, Caesar, a giant Italian Mastiff one of her brothers had brought back from the continent. One look at a growling Caesar and the so-called gentleman had fled.
“Annabel is going to murder me when she learns I was in on this scheme,” Kitty said. “You really shouldn’t have hurt the servants. She’s very soft hearted. She’s probably haranguing your brother about it even now. I fear she’ll never forgive me.”
In on this scheme? Annabel pressed her back firmly against the tree. What was going on? Who was John’s brother? Wait, had Kitty said someone was to marry, aside, apparently, from her and John?
“Who can say?” John’s tone was touched with impatience.
They came abreast of Annabel’s hiding place, so close she could have reached around the tree and caught Kitty’s hem. She almost did, thinking how much it would scare her friend, who Annabel suddenly felt certain quite deserved a scare. Annabel couldn’t get herself to move, though. She didn’t fully understand what was transpiring, and something about John still gave her pause.
“That’s not the right answer, silly,” Kitty mock-scolded. “You’re supposed to assure me Annabel will forgive me for luring her out to be abducted by her fiancé.”
Annabel stifled a gasp. Her fiancé? Oh no, she was the one who was to marry. Her and Richard Darrius, Duke of Southwood. The man she’d shot. She slumped against the rough bark.
Captured by a Duke (Ladies Always Shoot First Book 1) Page 1
