by Pamela Cayne
“Mr. Adams,” Shade repeated and Mr. Adams threw up a hand to stop him, the gun casual to him but not to the rest of them. Lady had the pleasure of seeing Shade flinch.
“Shade, who does the thinking here?”
“You do,” he answered automatically.
“Then bugger off and get ready for your fight. It starts in five minutes. I still want to make that train.”
* * *
King started bouncing from foot to foot and throwing shadow punches. Shade was a few feet away doing the same thing, and King knew he should be watching him but wasn’t. He had to get his mind ready to fight, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Lady and what she had done. More than anything, he wanted to hold her, whisper in her ear how proud he was of her, but he couldn’t, not when she was still being watched by Mr. Adams. Their only hope was to win the fight and get out of here. If he didn’t win, he’d do what he could to give Lady a chance to run.
He glanced at Mr. Adams again, see if he could determine his mood by the look on his face, but the little man was watching Lady, a confused set to his brow. King looked at Lady and saw she was sneaking looks at her bag on the ground. He almost groaned, but couldn’t blame her for her nervous gestures.
Not saying anything, Mr. Adams tucked his gun into his jacket pocket and stepped forward, drawing Lady’s attention. Giving her a puzzled grin, he picked up her bag and set it on the hitching rail. As he pawed through the contents, she watched, her face flat.
“Oh, I’ve missed these, I have.” Mr. Adams lifted a rolled bundle of some white material in his hand. He held it up to his face and King was able to tell by a wayward ribbon that Mr. Adams was breathing deeply of Lady’s drawers. He had a look of sublime pleasure on his face and exhaled deeply, perhaps to do it again, when an object fell out of the bundle and landed in a sparkling heap on the ground. Mr. Adams, Shade and King looked at the ground, and when King saw the pearl-and-ruby necklace, he looked at Lady, who was looking up as though she was ready to start throwing punches herself. “Dammit,” she whispered.
“Oh-ho, I’ve missed these too.” Mr. Adams slipped the necklace into his jacket pocket. “Now that I’ve got one set of jewels returned, let’s see if I can get two more. It’s time to fight.” He walked into the center of the square and motioned to King and Shade. Shade strode forward, but King hesitated long enough to touch Lady’s hand.
Lady grabbed him and held tight. “How about a kiss for luck?” she asked with a tremulous smile. “The last man I kissed won the tournament, so I must have some good fortune.”
King grabbed her face in his hands and kissed her hard, pressing his lips against hers with a force spiraling out of their control. He broke off quickly and looked at her eye to eye.
“I love you,” he said, the words a fierce vow.
“And I love you, my fighting man. Now destroy this son of a bitch so we can leave.”
King walked into the makeshift ring, and passed Mr. Adams, who was heading back to Lady. He glanced over his shoulder to take one last look at her, and Shade took the opportunity to punch him so hard it spun him around before knocking him to the ground.
* * *
Hannibal watched Shade drive King to the ground with a single blow and he felt his blood rise. Bloody hell, he’d missed this raw savagery, this primal matching of two rabid dogs against each other. He grabbed Lady by the arm. He wanted to keep her near, but also was feeling the old itch to spin her around and bend her over. This way he had a good grip for either.
Without looking he knew Knife was behind him, and wondered if Knife would be able to protect him like Shade would if Hannibal chose to tup Lady right now. He had missed his blood sport but he had missed her sweet cunny more.
Shade kicked King in the ribs, not letting him breathe or get back up. He pounded on him for several seconds, causing Hannibal to remember how much he enjoyed watching two men beat each other to death. King was finally able to roll away. He grabbed Shade’s foot and twisted, throwing the taller man off balance and to the ground. King and Shade got up at the same time and they circled each other, the real fight coming on the air like a storm. He had to say it was now on even par with the thought of Lady’s cunny.
As though signaled by an imaginary bell, King and Shade charged toward each other and Hannibal laughed. Lady glared at him and he winked at her, almost feeling that hellcat writhing under him. “Oh-ho, pet. Don’t get tied in a knot yet. This is a right good fight, and I’m enjoying it. Might set up another one or two back in London, get some proper bets going. Now hush, and watch. You’ll miss it.” His day was getting better and better.
Blows were exchanged, fists landed with heavy, wet sounds, and soon sweat was replaced by blood. Since this wasn’t a formal match, there were no rounds. A few times both men would stop and watch the other, catching their breath, but they would dive back at each other. Hannibal yelled with each charge and he didn’t know if it was the fight, the money-making possibility of more like it, the thought of Lady’s cunny squeezing him home or all of it. He was in heaven and such an emotion couldn’t be contained.
With a fierce cry, King launched himself at Shade and knocked them both to the ground. They struggled in the dirt, rolling back and forth. One man would be on top, then he would be swung to the bottom. King managed to get his upper body across Shade’s and used his leverage to pin him knees to shoulders. One quick jab to the nose teared Shade’s eyes and allowed King to land a flurry of blows, each one knocking his opponent a little more senseless.
After one last ferocious blow, Shade slumped bonelessly on the ground and Lady started to rush to King. Hannibal jerked her back to his side and growled, “Where do you think you’re going, bitch? Just because King-boy there won the fight doesn’t change anything. You’re still going back with me.”
He watched his whore look away, her face showing disgust, but then she frowned and looked into the ring. Hannibal followed her gaze and saw King coming toward them, his blood obviously still up.
But then he saw Shade.
Shade—glorious Shade—had staggered to his feet, blood mixing with the dirt on his face to create a primitive mask of death. He stood behind King, a jagged rock in his hand and Hannibal smiled. Oh, yes, he was going to win this fight after all.
“Look out!” Lady cried, and pointed behind King. Hannibal tried to cover her mouth with his hand, at the same time using his arm to pull her against his body so she would be restrained, and they both watched Shade bring the rock above his head, ready to break it on King’s head. Lady was squirming against Hannibal, and where part of him enjoyed the feel of her curves straining against him, her arms held tightly between them, the knowledge that he was about to watch Shade brutally kill King was what made him hard.
As Shade was rising in that deadly arc, his body straining for every ounce of strength, Knife dashed into the square, pulling a blade out from the small of his back, and plunged it into Shade’s belly, driving it upward in three sharp thrusts. King turned to watch Knife, and they all froze as the rock tumbled from Shade’s hand and Shade tumbled to the ground.
Knife pulled his blade free and wiped each side on Shade’s pants. He motioned with it for King to go over to Mr. Adams. As Knife followed, Hannibal chuckled and released his hold on Lady’s mouth, but not her arm.
“Bad boy, Knife. Bad boy.” He shook his finger at the Aussie. “You put me in a tough situation here, killing one of my men without permission, yet doing it in such a way I can’t help but admire.”
“You can admire this instead,” Lady said and pressed something sharp to Hannibal’s neck.
* * *
“Here now.” Mr. Adams was upset and his grip tightened on Lady’s arm. “Where’d you get that knife? What’s this all about?”
“If anybody knows what you wear under your coat, Mr. Adams, it’s your whore,” Lady said, spitting the las
t word. “Now, here’s what’s going on. King won, which means we get to leave. If you want to rewrite the rules, understand I will too.” She pressed the tip of the knife hard enough to sink it into his skin, and a trickle of blood ran down his neck and stained his shirt.
“Oh-ho.” Mr. Adams’s voice was jocular, but he didn’t move other than that. “What about your King, there? Knife, how is our winner?”
“I think he understands I don’t like cheaters much, so he’s being a good boy for now.”
Lady quickly glanced at King and saw an eerie reversal of her situation—Jonathan holding his knife to King’s neck. She only had one chance to end this with no blood of King’s spilled.
“If you don’t like cheaters, Jonathan—”
“Knife!” Mr. Adams bellowed. The movement forced the blade in deeper, but he didn’t seem to care. “His name is Knife!”
In that instant, Lady knew more fear than she ever had in her career as a prostitute, than in her entire life. Mr. Adams might very well impale himself on the knife Lady was holding, would probably kill himself, but he would take her with him. Lady knew enough about Mr. Adams’s drive and determination that it wouldn’t surprise her if he didn’t die until she was dead first, King just as dead by Jonathan or from trying to save her.
“My apologies, gentlemen.” Lady could use the names Mr. Adams loved, even as blood was being spilled. “Knife, if you don’t like cheaters, then what are you going to do with Mr. Adams?”
“Why would I do anything with Mr. Adams, Ladybird?”
“Because he said nothing changed even with King winning the fight, that I was still going back with him.” Lady tried to keep eye contact with Jonathan while telling him this, but she was scared enough of Mr. Adams that she ended up looking between the two men like a mouse watching a cat race about the yard.
“Is that true, Mr. Adams?” Jonathan asked, and Lady was relieved to see his blade relax a bit, falling away from King’s neck by the length of a finger.
“Knife, this isn’t important.” Mr. Adams laughed. “What’s important is—”
“Is that true, Mr. Adams?” Jonathan asked again, his voice strident, his lips pulled back against clenched teeth.
Mr. Adams sighed and Lady knew what was coming. He had never been one to tell elaborate lies or charm people into believing what stories he wanted them to follow, it just wasn’t in him. He got to where he was by bribery, extortion and well-backed threats, not flattery or charisma. Lady could practically see his thought process of how he was going to bully Jonathan into his way of thinking.
“Knife, I want Lady to come back with me. She makes me happy. I knew as soon as I found her I wasn’t going to let her go, no matter what bargains were struck. The way I see it, I paid for her and I own her, so how can she go somewhere if I don’t want her to?”
“So you cheated.” Jonathan sounded almost sad. He glanced at Lady and she nodded. He appeared to weigh things in his mind for a few seconds, and Lady prayed like she never had before. Her arm was getting tired and she was going to have to lower the knife or stab Mr. Adams and be done with it. The only problem was, stabbing Mr. Adams might put her at a severe disadvantage with Jonathan and she might still end up dead.
In a sudden movement that made Lady think Jonathan had cut King, he slashed the knife through the air so it was pointing to a spot behind Lady. “Get over there,” he said to King, and waited until King had walked over to stand several steps behind Lady before coming behind Mr. Adams, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out the ruby necklace. One-handed, he slipped it into Lady’s bag, then tossed the bag at King. “There, the necklace is Mr. Adams’s forfeit for cheating. Now go.” He smoothly stepped in front of Mr. Adams, forcing Lady’s knife to lightly bump against the Aussie’s neck instead and draw fresh blood.
Lady froze, knowing Jonathan had the reflexes to beat her, even with her blade against his neck and his knife only held loosely at his side. Her fear and surprise locked her in place, and there was a small part of her that knew she was going to die, because she couldn’t move, couldn’t physically step back from this confrontation she had started.
“You already had me hurt Mr. Collins.” Jonathan looked and sounded like a lad in the throes of heartbreak. “Don’t make me hurt anybody else, Ladybird. Please.”
Lady was so shaken by Jonathan’s entreaty, she was able to take a hesitant step back, pulling the knife from the side of his neck. Before she started shaking, she felt King’s hands on her shoulders, giving her the strength to lower the knife. In a movement almost as sudden as Jonathan’s, King took the knife from Lady with his left hand and pushed her behind him with his right.
“Pick up the bags, Lady,” King said as he pushed them back another step. “Don’t forget mine over there.”
Lady grabbed both bags, tucking one under her arm to keep one hand free. She could see Jonathan, still standing as passive as he had been, but Mr. Adams was getting his anger back, and that was a bad sign. Even worse was the taut set to King’s shoulders, a clear sign of impending attack.
“King, it’s time to go.” Lady took a step backward, but he wasn’t moving. “King, please. Broken promises and shattered dreams, remember?” She reached out her hand, willing him to feel it even though he couldn’t see it
Slowly, he reached one hand back and she took it. She’d never felt anything as good as how tightly he grabbed her, a promise to never let go. She took another step back, King stepping with her, and she could finally take a breath. They kept walking backward until they were on the other side of the village square. There was a second of stillness, then Jonathan dropped his knife at his feet. King turned, took the second bag in his free hand, and they ran. It felt like they ran for hours, winding between buildings and down narrow streets and alleys, through the docks until they reached the ship. It was about to sail, ropes being cast off, but with King’s offer of twenty pounds, the gangplank was lowered again for them and they boarded. Their cabin was small, but it was clean and, more importantly, it was safe. As the ship pulled away from the dock and settled into the smooth waters of the harbor, King held out his hand to her. “Let’s say goodbye to our old lives.”
She smiled at him, knowing she would follow this man around the world if he asked. “Let me get my shawl. It’s going to be cold up there.” She reached into her bag. She felt the soft fabric and pulled, but it wasn’t her shawl that spilled out of the bag, it was the quilt she had given King. She turned surprised eyes toward him, holding the corner of the quilt out to him like it could ask the question she was thinking. “You brought it. This is what you risked your life for,” she said in awe.
“I told you I had something too valuable to leave behind.” He reached beside her to pull it completely out of the bag. He draped it over one arm, and led Lady up to the deck as the sun was beginning to set. He swirled the quilt around his back, then pulled Lady into his embrace, wrapping her in both his arms and the quilt as they watched the sliver of land grow smaller and smaller in the deep orange light.
“You were right,” she said softly, feeling warm, safe and alive.
“About what?”
“A happy ending. I got one.”
* * * * *
Looking for more scandalous historical romance?
Don’t miss AN INCONVENIENT KISS
by Caroline Kimberly—available now!
AN INCONVENIENT KISS
The Ashford Brothers Series, book one
India, 1820
Georgiana Phillips always conducted herself according to the rules of polite society. So catching Simon Ashford in a compromising position should have been shocking. Instead it was…arousing. And kissing him herself was absolutely delicious—until it led to her ruination.
That perfect, scandalous kiss has haunted Simon for six years. He doesn’t regret it, though he’s tried desperately to restore
Georgie’s reputation. When he’s ordered to look after her in the wilds of India, it’s an opportunity to finish what he started. But he’s no match for Georgie’s adventurous spirit—she seems set on getting herself killed, diving in after hungry crocodiles and braving monsoons to hunt for lost treasure.
Georgie wouldn’t trade her exciting new life for anything in the world, including marriage. And yet Simon seems determined to rein her in, rewarding her brief moments of propriety with kisses far more exotic than any tribal ceremony or archaeological expedition. How can he convince her that she’s so much more than a beautiful obligation?
The Ashford Brothers Series continues with AN INCONVENIENT WIFE.
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About the Author
Growing up in Montana, playing the French horn and earning a degree in physics led Pamela Cayne to the one thing nobody expected her to be—a writer (and a romance writer at that!). Now, in between watching Doctor Who and the Food Network, Pamela writes love stories about people who, no matter how broken or damaged they are, find that one person who understands, accepts and loves them anyway. She lives in the southwest with her husband, also a writer, where they enthusiastically discuss better ways to torture their characters.
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