Hold Your Breath 01 - Stone Devil Duke

by K. J. Jackson

  Aggie’s ears perked.

  Tap, tap, tap.

  The insistent tapping came from inside the coach. Could the night become any less productive?

  Aggie grumbled to herself as she pulled the reins. Her intoxicated passenger obviously needed to lose his dinner. Best that he did it in the street.

  Hopping off her perch, she quickly opened the carriage door and swung aside, knowing the man was about to fly out, hand poised over his mouth.

  Instead, an arm swept out, grabbing her wrist and yanking her hard into the carriage. Her shins banged into the carriage doorway. Before she could reach for a pistol, she was flipped onto her back and her free arm clamped into an iron brace.

  Stuck atop her fare, Aggie went to her last resort, kicking. Thrashing as hard as she could, her boots made several hard thunks on the attacker’s ankles. But then her legs were immediately captured between steely thighs.

  She stopped squirming, realizing it was wasting precious energy. Through the terror haze in her mind, she heard her name being repeated quietly and smoothly.

  A voice she recognized. A voice too familiar from earlier in the evening.

  No.

  It couldn’t be.

  Not again.

  The duke. And she was sprawled fully on top of him on the floor of the coach, her body clamped tight to his.

  “Your grace, let me go.” She craned her head upward. “What of you?”

  He chuckled over her obvious indignation, not loosening his hold. “My dear lady, how could I resist another one of our exciting midnight jaunts?”

  Aggie blustered, wiggling again. “First, your grace, I am not your dear. Second, and more important, you were not invited on this particular midnight jaunt.”

  She pulled her arms with her wiggle, trying to free them.

  “There, you are wrong, my dear. I was invited.”

  She couldn’t see it, but she could hear the smile in his voice.

  Aggie groaned, stopping her wiggle. She kept her head craned as far as she could off of his chest. “By whom, your grace? For it certainly was not I, and unless you count inviting yourself along, I would say you have no argument. You are not a welcome companion, and I advise you to let me go, remove yourself from this coach, and go back to the brothel to find your nightly entertainment there.”

  The duke’s chest rumbled under her back. Aggie’s breath tightened. He took her plight with amusement. She was fighting for her life, and he was laughing at her. Again.

  “On the contrary, my dear, my presence is both necessary and invited.”

  Aggie couldn’t reply, the burn in her chest taking all words. She stared at the pockmarked ceiling of the carriage.

  “Fate invited me. Fate put me in your path last night, and I am honor-bound as a gentleman to adhere to fate’s wishes. Fate wants you protected. I am obliged to bow to fate’s wishes.” His grip tightened even harder. “Cooperation, or not.”

  “Protection?” Aggie struggled, growling, giving another attempt at getting out of his arms. “Your grace—”

  “Devin.”

  “Your grace, I do not require any protection.” She twisted her arm and managed to poke an elbow into his chest.

  “I, on the other hand, believe you do, Aggie. And I am seeing to it that you receive it.”

  He unclamped his legs that had snaked around her and released Aggie’s arms and torso. He remained still as Aggie tried to keep a sense of propriety, awkwardly struggling to remove herself from their tangle.

  Clawing herself upright, she shoved off the tiny carriage floor, not caring what limb of his she crushed in the process. She heaved herself onto the seat with the torn cushion.

  “Was that necessary?”

  The duke sat up, arms resting on his bent knees, and regarded Aggie. “Would you have come in to chat with me on your own?”

  Aggie glared.

  “Exactly. So yes, it was necessary.” He went to his feet, reaching out and closing the carriage door. “You may as well accept the fact that I will be by your side if you decide to go on any more of these excursions, Aggie. For if I was not convinced before, I certainly am now, after the night I have had of following you about. For hours, all without the slightest notice from you—”

  “You were stalking me?”

  “Following. And yes, I was.” He moved to the cushion across from Aggie, his long legs stretching out on either side of hers. “And your complete lack of observation that I have been following you since you left your townhouse has only proven to me that you need my protection.”

  Aggie started to shove the many locks of hair that fallen into her face back under her cap.

  “Why are they trying to kill you, Aggie?”

  She put her hands in front of her face, working on her hair. He could have this conversation alone.

  “I have all night, Aggie. So you can hide that face of yours until the bright light of morning, or you can answer the question.”

  Aggie dropped her hands to her lap with a sigh. “I saw their faces, I guess.”

  “And your sister and mother. Are they in any danger, or are they only after you?”

  “I thought it was just me.” Aggie picked at the black soot that rubbed onto her fingers after touching her face. She didn’t want to share, but her options were limited. “But then I was out of the house one day, and one of them—I believe it was one of them from my sister’s description—showed up at our house. I do not know what was said, but our butler did not let him in. I immediately hired guards to watch my sister and mother around the clock after that.”

  “No guards for yourself?”

  “We came to London soon after.”

  “So you could go after them on your own?”

  “I see your look, your grace. You do not hide it well. I know you think I am an idiot. But I am doing the only thing I can think of for survival. I am the only one that actually believes of the threat I am under.”

  “You told others?”

  “Yes. I told our local constable. You did not see how he looked at me. He laughed, then patted me on the head. I do not exaggerate. He patted me on the head.” She shuddered, remembering the utter humiliation. “He did not believe me.”

  “I did.”

  “You had to. You were forced into it by circumstance.” She bit her lip. “With all respect, your grace, you do not understand how men look at a woman my age. I am fanciful and full of dreams and drama and silly imaginings to them. Not harsh realities.”

  “So you tried once and gave up? What about your uncle?”

  Aggie’s eyes widened. “Please, your grace, do not tell anyone. I considered my options. And now…I am doing what needs to be done. I will not allow my family, and that includes my aunt and uncle, to be jeopardized—they are all I have. I am all they have.”

  “So your chosen option was to try to kill four men?”

  “I do not take the deaths lightly, your grace. I am sorry you were involved. It is my soul that takes the marks of those deaths, not yours. And I do not intend for you to have another death on your conscience. Please, just let us part ways, and let me do what needs to be done.”

  “I think you already know I cannot let you do that, Aggie.”

  Her eyes took in Devin’s face, and she was suddenly frightened by the man across from her.

  She had thought of him as a nuisance and a threat to the exposing of her hack driving, but in that moment, he became much more. He became someone to not just ignore and hope would go away. He became a true threat.

  A threat to her entire plan to put right the wrongs and to keep her family safe.

  He would no longer allow her to continue on her mission as she had been. For some reason, he had decided she was his to protect.

  Why? What possible reason would a man of his status have for getting involved with a girl in a ridiculous amount of trouble? It wasn’t worth it. Aggie’s eyes narrowed at him as she wondered what he really wanted of her.

  Even worse, she wondered a
t her own reaction. She liked the man. She liked that he didn’t cower from danger. Liked that he actually listened to her, even if he disagreed with every step she took. Liked his steel eyes. The concern in them. No one had looked at her with such raw concern in a very long time. It was that concern that held the most danger.

  Like him or not, she had to get rid of him.

  Aggie shook her head, eyes at the ceiling. What else could she say to remove this man from her shoulder?

  She levelled her eyes at him. “Maybe I went about this all wrong earlier at the ball. I apologize. I should have thanked you, your grace, and then we could have parted ways.” Aggie gave him a quick smile, folding her hands in her lap. “So thank you. I appreciate your help. Is that what you are really after? Acknowledgment of good deeds done?”

  He smiled at her then, slow, drawn out. Aggie swallowed hard against what was coming.

  “You can keep trying, Aggie, but I am going nowhere. Charm, blackmail, appreciation—all of them hold no sway with me. Have you not already learned I do what I please?”

  Aggie bit back a scream. Of course he did what he wanted. Obvious.

  “Your grace, once more, I do not need your protection. As for your stalking of me, well, you are no gentleman—truly odious behavior.”

  “And you consider yourself a lady?”

  Aggie let her irritation show in the dagger look she shot him as she stood, trying to step over his leg and leave the carriage. Unfazed, the duke grabbed her arm and yanked her down directly into his lap.

  “Your manhandling is out of control, your grace.” Aggie lost no time in trying to break free, which merely caused him to clamp his arms around her again.

  Aggie took a deep breath, attempting calm. It didn’t work.

  “Your grace, you have just grievously insulted me.” She looked down her nose at him, the best she could from her close and awkward angle.

  “I meant no insult, my lady, just merely noting the clothing.” His hands moved along her cloak, patting the lumps. “Good God, how many pistols do you have in there?”

  “Enough.” Aggie bristled, then froze as a new realization struck her. “Blasted that.”

  The duke’s eyebrows rose at her in question.

  She sighed, her eyes darting off, distracted. “I presume the man who helped your ‘drunk’ self into the cab tonight was your friend, Lord Southfork…which means my secret is no longer a secret.”

  “Not to fear. Yes, Killian knows of your fetish for dressing up in men’s clothing and your hackney skills. But he would never repeat the story to anyone, not even under torture, unless you, specifically, gave him permission.”

  “You trust him that much?” Aggie asked, disbelief clear in her eyes.

  “Without doubt. I trust him with my life, and I trust him with your secret.”

  He looked hard into her eyes, and her breath caught. She was much too close to him, on his lap for heaven’s sake. She forced out wooden words. “Yes, but the question remains. Do I trust you?”

  Aggie searched his face, his eyes. Could she trust this man? Could she trust her very life to anyone other than herself? Did she even have a choice?

  Calm resolve, clear as the day in his steely eyes, was all she saw in answer to her question.

  How could she trust someone she knew nothing of? Someone she instinctively knew was dangerous. But dangerous to her? That was the real question.

  Her heart stopped beating in the next moment. But not because of the duke.

  Because a knife flew in at them through the open carriage window.

  The next second, she was smothered.

  ~~~

  In an instant, Devin had her flattened on the carriage floor.

  Not taking a breath, not caring that his weight crushed her, he reacted before the knife had fully embedded into the worn cushion.

  Devin stilled, listening.

  Aggie’s breath became hot and quick, and she started wiggling to escape from the shell he had enclosed her in.

  “Aggie, it would do nicely if you could stop squirming for a minute,” Devin said in a dead calm whisper. “I am going to get up, and I demand complete silence and no movement out of you. Do you understand?”

  Harshness edged his voice, he knew, but he couldn’t afford the slightest question from her. It was a damn knife that missed her by inches, after all.

  A whisper went into his chest. “Yes.”

  He slithered his right hand between them, ignoring Aggie’s gasp as he brushed past her breast. He fished, extracting one of Aggie’s pistols from deep in her cloak.

  Lethal grace lining his movements, Devin shifted off of Aggie, his foot gaining a small spot by her head, and positioned himself low against the inside of the coach. He pulled out his own pistol, leaned up, head back as far as he could, but with sight line to the street.

  All was silent.

  He waited.

  Devin noted that Aggie had actually listened to him and remained frozen, lying on the floor, eyes wide as he got up from her. But now she slowly started to move her arms.

  He cleared his throat. She stopped.

  He turned his attention back to the street. Still silent.

  Devin looked down at Aggie and pointed to the opposite carriage door. They had to remove themselves from the interior of the carriage, for this was the worst place to be cornered.

  Aggie nodded. Scrupulously searching the street, Devin knelt, poised to react. Aggie crawled to the corner opposite him, pistol drawn.

  After a minute, Devin glanced back at her.

  “They are gone?” she whispered.

  He moved over to her, hand going over her shoulder onto the door latch. It would be quickest to escape the immediate area by foot. “We need to get out of here. Are you ready to run?”

  Aggie shook her head. “I am not leaving my horse.”

  Of course not. Of course her damn horse was more important than bodily harm to her—or him. She sure worked on saving herself in the worst possible ways.

  A swear started, but Devin swallowed it before it escaped.

  Even through the black soot covering her face, he could see the set of her jaw. She wasn’t going to budge on leaving her horse.

  “Fine. But you are staying in here.”

  “No. You need other eyes up there. And you know I can shoot.”

  Devin bit back another blasphemy. He knew he couldn’t stop her, and he also knew they needed to get the hell out of there. Not giving her permission, he opened the door slowly, eyes scanning the street and adjoining alleys. Stepping out, he slid along the edge of the black coach, and crawled up to the driver’s perch.

  Aggie followed, drawing another pistol on her way. She joined him on the small seat, wedging herself in next to him. Devin grabbed the reins and sent the carriage down the street, moving west past Charring Cross without further incident. They reached a respectable area, and he pulled off the main thoroughfare to a quiet residential street.

  “Why are we stopping?” Aggie slid her pistols back into the pockets in her cloak.

  Devin pulled the brake on the carriage. “Our conversation is not done, Aggie. Down you go. Back into the coach.”

  “What? Why? What is wrong with staying up here and conversing? We can chat on the way back to the place I dropped you last night?” She looked a little too hopeful.

  “I am not going to have a conversation like this out in the middle of the street, Aggie.”

  “But the two of us together in there. Alone. It is not at all proper.”

  “Proper?” Devin cocked an eyebrow. “Truly? You are going to try that ploy? Maybe pulling up together at your uncle’s residence would be more proper?”

  Aggie growled, turning from him, then started to climb down. “Fine. But whatever you may think of me at this moment—outside of this, outside of my current outfit—I am nothing but a respectable lady, and I would like it to remain that way.”

  “Duly noted.” Devin followed her down.

  She went int
o the carriage first, pushing her hood off her head as she sat, arms crossed over her chest. Even in the dim light coming from the outside carriage lantern, her glare was obvious.

  “What is that?” Aggie pointed at Devin’s upper arm as he moved in front of her.

  He sat and Aggie scampered across the coach to sit next to him.

  “Your coat—the tear?” Aggie reached out to touch a hole in the dark cloth.

  Devin looked down at his arm, surprised. He hadn’t really noticed it in the commotion.

  Without waiting for him, Aggie pulled his overcoat down past his shoulder to inspect his black jacket. It, too, was torn. Her fingers went over the tear.

  “It is wet. Take off your coat and jacket.” She didn’t wait for him to comply, just started to peel off his layers.

  Devin allowed her, in silence, to pull off his overcoat. His only motion was to lean forward as Aggie’s hands moved up his body to remove the jacket. She took care in how she laid both items next to her, then pushed her own sleeves up past her elbows.

  Jacket gone, she returned her attention back to his arm. “Damn, it sliced you.” She pulled a leg up under herself, turning fully to him, her nose nearly touching the wound. Devin could see blood staining his white linen shirt around the tear in the cloth.

  “Does it hurt?” She tugged at the hole in the fabric, trying to see under it.

  Devin shrugged.

  She looked up at him, worry mixed with hesitation in her eyes. “Shrugging means it hurts, you realize. Would you mind if I ripped your shirt a bit more so I could see the wound?”

  Devin gave her a perplexed look. And she was the one worried about properness? “I would rather you not tatter my clothes.”

  “But it is already ruined. I cannot tell how deep the slice is until the shirt is off the wound.”

  “True. But the whole shirt can just come off, you realize.”

  Her bottom lip slipped under her front teeth in obvious moral struggle. Devin kept an innocent look on his face as he watched, amusement growing, as she worked up the nerve to allow his shirt to come off. She moved from him and made a long, silent production of lighting the interior lantern.

  “Maybe I should just remove it?” Devin’s eyebrow cocked helpfully.

  It took Aggie another minute to decide.