Willoughby 03 - A Rogue's Deadly Redemption

by Jeannie Ruesch

  And stayed.

  Goose bumps swept up her arms and she lifted a hand to run over her forearm.

  They wanted her to know they were here.

  But no, that was silly. She was overreacting.

  People came in to inquire about a subscription all the time. Perhaps these men looked more suited to skulking in alleyways than discussing the latest Jane Austen, but who was she to judge?

  Readers came in all shapes and sizes.

  Even scary ones.

  Her heart thumped a frantic beat and suspicion crawled under her skin until her fingers felt like ice.

  They weren’t the men that had come to the house.

  Mr. Hayes noted her hesitation and turned in his chair. With only a hint of surprise at the newcomers, he gave his usual welcoming smile and stood.

  “Welcome, welcome! You are just in time for a lively,” he glanced at the group fondly, “discussion of Frankenstein.”

  They may have grunted, but if they spoke, Lily couldn’t hear for the roaring in her ears. Her hands began to shake and she fisted her fingers tightly, until her nails dug into her palms.

  One of them met her gaze full-on. “Wrong place.” They turned and walked out, the bell above the door jingling with a cheerfulness she suddenly found annoying.

  She let out her breath, releasing the pressure in her chest.

  They’d come in the wrong place. That was all.

  The discussion began, and Lily settled into her seat, trying to stay focused.

  “The monster was about humanity, about what it means to be loved or not loved,” argued one of the members. “He was more than what he was created to be, he taught himself, he learned, he observed.”

  Colette raised her hand tentatively, and Lily forced herself to attention. “You don’t have to raise your hand, Colette.”

  Just in the wrong place.

  Colette flashed her a grateful look then took a deep breath. “I think he was lonely, and in his loneliness, he couldn’t control his rage.”

  Lily struggled to keep her attention on the discussion, to participate, but the men had unsettled her.

  What if they had just issued another warning?

  Cordelia.

  Lily’s heart dropped. Her sister had left just as they arrived. Who knew if the carriage had been waiting or in the mews.

  What if the men knew who she was? What if they’d found her?

  “Frankenstein murdered people. That isn’t about loneliness, that’s about evil,” argued Mr. Cortland, a young man who owned the store four doors down, with a gentle smile and a decided eye for Colette.

  Lily stood up, and conversation stopped. Everyone looked at her.

  “Lady Melrose?” Mr. Hayes said.

  “If you’ll excuse me.” Without an explanation, she grabbed her cloak, said goodbye over her shoulder and ventured out onto the street. People milled about her, carriages and horses moved past. A normal afternoon. Nothing jumped from the shadows. Nothing was awaiting for her.

  She was being fanciful, that was all.

  But now that she’d left, she knew she couldn’t return and sit for another hour, discussing a book. Not when she felt so unsettled.

  She set a brisk pace down the street toward the mews where her driver awaited with the carriage.

  She turned the corner into the alley. Stopped.

  There they were.

  Blade stood with them.

  She turned to flee, but before she could move, he’d wrapped his fingers around her forearm with a painful vice grip.

  “Someone wishes your presence.”

  Lily pushed against him. “Let me go.” His grip tightened as Blade dragged her toward him. She let out a scream. One lean, callused palm slapped over her mouth, and she winced at the shards of pain. His fingers dug into her chin.

  “Not one scream.” His tone promised consequences if she defied him. “Not if you wish to see your husband alive.”

  She heaved in breaths. An urgent rush of blood ran through her body, and she couldn’t stand still. She moved, tried to free herself. With each movement, his clamp upon her grew more and more painful.

  “We’re getting into this carriage now,” he said as he dragged her backward. She kicked, felt a moment of satisfaction at his grunt of pain.

  He swiveled her around. A burst of pain exploded in her head. Then nothing.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Lily pried her eyes open, even though they felt like they’d had rocks crushed inside. Her head pounded, and every part of her body shook. Even her toes had curled with the numbness of cold.

  Where was she?

  The room was dark, slivers of light casting taunts about the room, which held an odor she didn’t want to define. She put one hand down on the cold ground.

  No, it was a floor. So she was inside. Where?

  She blinked a few times, and her eyes adjusted to the dimness. She looked about the small room.

  Robert was huddled in the corner.

  Lily’s heart slammed into her throat. “Robert.”

  Was he dead? She scurried over to his side.

  She knelt in the dirt. She placed a hand on his back, and a sigh of relief escaped. He was warm. Alive.

  “Robert,” she urged. She pushed him to roll over. Fresh bruises mottled his face. The heat drained from her body, shivers skittered up her arms and a foreboding sense of dread drudged up from a dark place she didn’t know existed inside of her.

  They were going to kill them.

  She looked up, certain the terror eating away at her composure was in her eyes, and found a man standing in front of a door in the corner. “What do you want? What are you planning to do?”

  The man lifted a shoulder. “Whatever I’m told. Ye’ll wait here.”

  Wait for what?

  The man opened the door behind him and Lily squinted against the sudden light. But the door closed, shutting off the one source of light that had filtered in from the other room. Pitch black surrounded her again, and Lily tried to calm the thuds pounding in her chest. A crack of light from under the door helped her at least to see the small size of the room.

  Where were they?

  A groan came from Robert, and he moved. She bent over him until she could see his face, just inches away.

  “Robert, wake up. Robert.”

  His eyes opened slowly and he met her gaze, unfocused, uncertain. Then he snapped to attention, rose quickly. “Cary! Ah, damn it!” He brought a hand to cradle his head. “Lily. What are you doing here? Where are we?”

  “You tell me. What have you done, Robert? What have you gotten us into?”

  “Have you seen Cary?”

  She frowned. “Your brother? No. Why? Who are these people?”

  “I don’t know. They took me…they…Why the hell can’t I remember? I know he’s in danger. I don’t know why.”

  Anger whipped into a frenzy inside of her. “We are in danger. Whatever you have done has put us here.”

  He struggled to sit up. “It just happened. I know he was hurt, but the memory…it’s gone. Like the others. How is that possible?”

  The anger and fear filled her so completely, tears flooded her eyes. “This is not a game. You must stop this. Now.”

  “I can’t. I wish I knew how the hell to plug my memory, but it has holes. I was with Cary. I know that much but after…Damn it.” He met her gaze. “I remember you.”

  “Blast it, stop mocking me!” She shoved to her feet, then stood in the middle of the room. There was nowhere to go. Only a few steps took her to the other side of the room. Small scuttles of movement and tiny, non-human squeaks pushed her into the middle. She dropped her hands to her side, her limbs frozen, paralyzed. Where could she turn? The walls closed in and shrunk the space around them.

  Taking in a deep breath that brought acrid smells that stung her nose, she walked toward the sliver of light. She tried the door handle, and to no surprise, found it locked. She shook the door knob, knowing it was futile but feelin
g the need to do something.

  “Tell me what’s happening.”

  She swiveled on a foot. “You are the one who owes me an explanation. Whatever you’ve done brought those men to our home. Brought us here.”

  “I don’t know what they want, Lily.”

  “For God’s sake, look where we are. How can you continue acting?”

  “Do you think I’m stupid enough to pretend now?” he demanded. “So now I am not only trustworthy, but I’m an idiot as well?”

  The door lurched open. Lily turned as the familiar faces she did not wish to see appeared in the doorway. The men moved into the room, slinked along the walls until they circled them like a band of hungry wolves.

  One man, short, squat, walked between them, stood in the center of the room. He stood over Robert and kicked at his leg.

  “Get up, ye arrogant bastard.”

  Robert’s features twisted in a snarl. “Hitting a man when he’s down? Not very sporting of you, old chap. Why are we here? Where is my brother?”

  The man gave a short bark of laughter. “Ye’re a gypsy now, are ye? Here to entertain? Ye demanded an audience with the captain, and ye’re getting an audience.”

  “What is he talking about?” Lily asked Robert.

  At her words, the man’s beady little eyes turned to her. Shivers of repulsion twitched her arms and legs as his gaze roved over every inch of her. “A fancy piece, ain’t she?”

  “Leave my wife alone.” The threat in Robert’s words, though weak, was clear.

  Lily startled, just as Creepy Man grinned. It was a grin with no mirth, one that evoked fear. A grin that promised he found pleasure where no gentleman would.

  He walked toward her, lifted a hand toward her hair. Without thinking, she batted it away.

  The pain hit in seconds, as she reeled from the slap he’d leveled against her cheek. Her head rang, her vision blurred. She held a hand to her stinging cheek, and a roar of outrage filled the air.

  “Get your hands off her!” Robert lunged at him, but the man shoved him back against the wall.

  The man snorted. “She ain’t yer wife. Ye told me you didn’t give a rat’s ass about yer wife.”

  She didn’t know which surprised her more—the knowledge that Robert knew this man, had conversed with him about her or that Robert had defended her.

  “I don’t know what I told you,” Robert replied. “But touch her again, and I will kill you.”

  The man’s eyed narrowed. She could see him calculating the benefits of that knowledge, of knowing that he held something over Robert.

  Her husband was still playacting.

  “Robert,” she urged, turning to Robert as he moved to stand next to her. He leaned against her, the ball of his hand pressed against the side of his head. “Give the man what he wants so he’ll let us go.”

  “I’d give him twice what he’s asking for if I only knew what the bloody hell it was.” Exhaustion weighted his words. “What will it take to convince you?”

  “You demanded an audience,” the man interrupted before Lily could reply. “The captain’s expecting ye to deliver what he’s paying for.”

  “What who is paying for?” Lily asked.

  “Who is this Captain?” followed Robert.

  A slow realization began to burn in Lily’s gut. “You really don’t remember.”

  Robert shot her a look. “No.”

  It didn’t offer relief. She believed him, but that only kicked her fear into a near panic attack.

  Voices grew louder by the door. She turned and watched as a man strode in.

  “This is Melrose?” The flat words couldn’t hide the deep, rich tones of a cultured voice.

  A flare of hope pushed up. “Sir, please. I don’t even know why I’m here, and my husband is ill. Please tell them to let us go.”

  At her words the man turned to face her. Their gazes met, and it almost appeared the man flinched. Lily stared.

  Some memory niggled in her mind, and she tried to place him. He was all things tall, dark and handsome, but in a hard sort of way, from the way he held his body—ready to spring, to the flat emotionless expression on his face.

  “Do I know you?” She couldn’t shake the feeling that she had seen him before.

  He leveled his scowl at his man. “What is she doing here?”

  “Ye know the forger’s wife, now do ye?” the stout man cackled, a leer moving over her.

  The captain shot his arm out and backhanded the man. “No, you bloody idiot, I want to know what imbecile decided to bring the woman with him.” For a brief second, his scowl lifted and his gaze met hers.

  No. It couldn’t be. “Captain Keenan?”

  Relief poured through her. Captain William Keenan was a longtime friend of her sister Blythe’s husband, the Duke of Ravensdale. “Thank God you’re here.”

  He didn’t respond. Instead, he turned to Robert. “Your talent has proven useful. You are the best artist we’ve employed, Melrose, but my goodwill only extends so far. Where is the work I paid for?”

  “Now, why didn’t I think to bring it along?” Robert replied. “Oh, that’s right. I. Don’t. Remember. A. Bloody. Thing.”

  Before she could blink, the captain had hauled Robert up, hands fisted into his shirt. “Tread lightly in this meeting, Melrose, for it’s the only one you’ll get.”

  “He doesn’t know,” she cried. “He’s injured. He lost his memories in a recent accident. What are you doing?”

  The captain looked from her to Robert, his face blank, emotionless. “What game is this?”

  “If this is a game, I’m not having any fun. Lily, you? Captain? How about Ugly over there?”

  “Robert, stop it,” Lily pleaded. What was he thinking, mocking these men?

  “Tell me what I want to know.”

  “Tell me what you’ve done with my brother.”

  The man’s lips thinned. “You don’t remember what you owe me, and yet you seem to know your brother just fine.”

  A flash of the old Robert stamped across his face, the devil-may-care arch of his brow, the sardonic curl of his lips. “It would be nice if I could select what memories to keep, wouldn’t it? That however appears not to be the case.”

  The captain shoved him against the wall. “I am losing my patience!”

  “Then we have something in common.”

  “He doesn’t remember!” Lily cried. God help them because of it.

  The captain let go of Robert, then turned and stalked toward her.

  Lily trembled from the icy alarm that raised bumps on her skin and froze her feet to the floor.

  This man was nothing like the captain she’d known. It had been years since she’d met him at Blythe’s country home, when he’d come with the Duke of Ravensdale to meet Blythe. That man had been charming to a fault. He’d joined their family for dinner more than a few times in London. Lily hadn’t seen the captain since before her wedding, but that didn’t explain such a drastic change.

  This couldn’t be him. Yet she was sure he was.

  Just behind him, Robert slammed a hand against the wall and used it to raise himself up to his full height, chest out. “Leave her alone.”

  The captain ignored him, continued toward her. With every step, Lily felt her chin inch upward until he stood inches away and she summoned any bravado she could to stare back into eyes that should have been familiar, but had lost all sense of emotion.

  “I am not who you think I am.” His words were low, measured and carried a laced threat.

  He was lying. She knew right then: he was Captain Keenan.

  She also knew she needed to keep her mouth shut.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Fear sent Robert’s heart into his throat, as the pain that held his head in a vice grip pulsed and made logical thought impossible.

  Though his body felt like sludge, Robert pulled himself up, straightened his shoulders and managed to step behind the captain.

  “Leave her alone.”

>   Lily and the man stood inches apart. With a disgusted look at Robert, the captain flicked a hand in his direction.

  “Get rid of them.”

  “No!” Lily cried.

  At the fear in her voice, Robert launched himself at the man. He didn’t know where the strength came from, didn’t know what he was doing—or why. He collided with the man in a moment of surprise, with full force directly in the gut. Enough to send them both backwards until they crashed into the far wall with a bone-jarring bounce and tumbled to the ground.

  Robert lifted a hand, managed to land it on the captain’s face.

  Then he was being pummeled by feet and fists.

  “Stop it!” He heard Lily’s cry and kicked out a little harder. He couldn’t let them kill him. He couldn’t leave her to fend for herself with these street rats.

  “Enough.”

  At the bark, the fists stopped. One last kick landed with painful accuracy at his thigh.

  “I want them out of my sight. Let them loose.” The captain pointed at Robert. “You have one week to ‘remember’ to bring what you owe me. Unless you decide to hide behind your woman again. Then I might find you out of principle.”

  Hands grabbed at his arms and he heard Lily’s cry as they lifted her up. Robert struggled, but it did no good. They were dragged to the door of the godforsaken establishment. It opened, letting in a rush of cold air, and they were shoved out.

  The door slammed behind them.

  Lily stood inches away, her breath rapid in the strange silence.

  His own breath seemed hard to catch.

  Then warmth covered his arm, and he looked down. Lily’s hand had wrapped around his upper arm. He met her gaze.

  “Are you all right?” Her voice was soft, even as the din of the city—random yells, moans and other noises that blended into a symphony of desolation—picked up. Robert took in his first full breath.

  Everything was gray. The buildings, the ground, the air—it differed only in shades of darkness and grime. This was not where they’d left Cary lying on the ground. Knots wound through his gut. What had happened to him? What would happen to them?

  Lily. Robert grimaced.

  She stood in a green gown that held some traces of dirt, but nothing that could diminish the gentility she emanated. Her dark hair held a shine that would have proven impossible if one had to trudge through the coal-dusted air of these areas. Dust, dirt and filth had a way of seeping into everything when you lived with them.