Disciplining The Thief - Complete Series (Historical Victorian Forbidden First Time Steamy Romance)

by Georgia Fowler

  The little boy nodded, looking quite close to tears. “He did, sir. He said he would only pay if the exchange was made in person.”

  Pinzer tapped his finger on his chair arm. The factory had several rooms for sleeping quarters or the workers. Many of them had been ruined by the fire but the best remaining one had been claimed as Pinzer’s bedroom. Inside was a dirty mattress and a sturdy but soot covered desk. Pinzer sat in the only chair in the room. Not as large as the one he sat in on the main factory floor but still comfortable enough.

  Abigail sat on the dirty mattress. Her gown was filthy and her face swollen and bruised. Though Pinzer had spoken publically of his forgiveness of Abigail’s betrayal, his actions did not convey his words. Sometimes it seemed just the mere sight of Abigail enraged him, leading him into a frenzy where he would beat her senseless. She had already passed out twice while receiving blows.

  Finally Pinzer straightened up, startling the little boy. “Fine then. Go on and make sure you steal your worth today, Jacob.” The boy nodded and immediately left the room.

  Abigail warily watched Pinzer through swollen eyelids. She didn’t want to be caught alone with him if he was in a rage because of the earl’s demands.

  Abruptly standing, Pinzer clapped his hands, rubbing the palms together. Lips twitching, he eyed Abigail’s cowering form. “Well, little chicky. Looks like the good prince is willing to risk your neck after all.” He huffed at the sheer insolence of the earl’s demands. “He dare to tell me how to do business. Well!”

  Pinzer rubbed his chin meditatively. “I had intended to milk the prince for all he was worth. I wanted to see how many demands I could have him bend his knee to. But I see now that plans must be changed.”

  Abigail’s breathing grew more rapid. Plans changing could mean anything. She had no intention of going to India with Pinzer yet she had absolutely no ideas as to how she might break free of him before the ship set sail.

  She had been surprised and secretly touched that Lord Brynwood had paid the hundred pounds for her first ransom. It was an enormous sum and it spoke of his worry over her disappearance. No matter how much Abigail hoped that Lord Brynwood and Colette would move on and forget her, she felt an intense warmth knowing that they had clearly not.

  Pinzer shrugged. “I guess then the only choice I have left now is to take what I can and then kill the man.”

  “No!” Abigail cried out. Warmth or no, she wanted above all to keep the earl and his fiancée safe. Why oh why did the earl demand to exchange the ransom in person? How could she possibly protect him when she could hardly raise a fist herself to Pinzer?

  Pinzer smiled. “Oh care about him, don’t we?” He walked over to the dirty bed. Abigail forced herself not to shrink back towards the far corner. “Care about the good Prince more than your dear old Pinzer, do you?”

  Abigail shook her head. “No, no,” she breathed rapidly. “It’s just-it’s just if you kill an earl, there is no way you will be able to get away to a ship then! Constables will be upon you! Y-you’d be arrested!”

  Pinzer laughed. He ran a hand gently down her bruised cheek. Abigail tried not to flinch at the touch. “Oh sweet chicky! Concerned for me, are you? Well, no matter. The prince’s body will be long since cold by the time any bobby finds him. And as for ships,” he added mysteriously, “I will have no problems boarding my ship.”

  Abigail’s heart raced. If she didn’t do something soon, Lord Brynwood would be murdered tomorrow night.

  It was well past three in the morning when Abigail slowly rose from the corner of Pinzer’s bedroom. A few ragged blankets had been tossed in the corner for her bed. Pinzer had not trusted letting Abigail return to her old sleeping spot in the abandoned factory. He wanted to keep her in sight at all times.

  Tonight, this was to Abigail’s advantage. She would not have to sneak across the factory floor and down the hall to enter Pinzer’s bedroom. She was already perfectly situated. With the slowest movement possible, Abigail pulled forth out a jagged piece of iron from the crumpled blankets.

  Years ago, she had found a large twisted bit of melted iron with a rusted tip. Stomping on the rusted bit, she had been able to break off a bit of the ruined iron, leaving a razor sharp jagged edge. She had hidden it behind a loose brick near her sleeping spot. As a thief, no matter how long you had known your gang, you never could trust anyone in it. Especially if the gang was led by a man like Pinzer. She had hoped she’d never have to use it but she felt safer knowing she had the iron.

  Earlier in the afternoon, while everyone was eating some food that had been scrounged together, Abigail had been able to find the iron piece and slip it amongst the folds of her skirt.

  With her heart beating near her throat, Abigail rose with a dancer’s grace. Stepping quietly towards the bed and the sleeping form atop it, Abigail gripped the iron bar tighter. She would have to do this. If she killed Pinzer now, she could save Lord Brynwood tomorrow.

  But having just murdered the leader of a quite vengeful gang, Abigail was certain swift retribution would be had by the members. And if not that, she could very easily be caught and tried for murder. Lord Brynwood’s influence, no matter how great, could not save her from a murder sentence.

  Abigail held the iron bar with both hands. Even with the potential consequences, she would do this. As her heart raced, she raised the jagged edge straight over Pinzer’s sleeping neck. Taking a deep breath, Abigail squeezed her eyes shut and swung the bar down with as much force as she could muster.

  But as her arms came down, a flurry of blankets was tossed into her face. A hand gripped her wrist while another hand twisted the iron bar away from her. The hand pulled Abigail onto the bed, making her stumble and fall. Trying to straighten up, she found herself face to face with Pinzer.

  Eyes eerily aglow in the dark room, his hand tightened painfully over her wrist. “Oh ho, so the little chicky tried to do away with me,” he whispered. Abigail tried to jerk free but Pinzer’s other hand gripped her free arm, keeping her prisoner.

  “Care about the prince that much do you?” he spat, his voice hardly above a whisper yet Abigail winced at his tone. Pulling her even closer to his body, Pinzer looked down at the little heart-shaped face. “Well tonight is one night where you won’t be thinking about him!”

  His mouth descended onto hers, forcing her lips apart so that his tongue could claim the warmth of her mouth. Abigail twisted and writhed, trying to get free but Pinzer’s wiry strength kept her firmly in place.

  Breaking free of the kiss, he breathed, “Now let’s taste the sweetness you must’ve offered the prince.”

  He threw her onto the dirty blankets. She struggled and fought, trying to keep her legs closed and her skirts down. But Pinzer was strong. His thin frame completely belied his incredible strength. Wedging his knees between her legs, Pinzer threw up her skirts and ripped away her childish drawers. And with a quick spit in his hand, he rubbed himself then plunged his cock deep into Abigail’s dry pussy.

  She cried out in pain, feeling as if something inside her was tearing. It was pure agony. But Pinzer ignored her and continued pumping painfully into her. “Does this remind you of the days you whored for any common man?” he muttered into her ear, thrusting hard. “Does this remind you of when your legs would open up for a mere shilling? When your cunt was less valuable than a pint of ale?”

  Abigail felt tears silently falling down her face. She had lost all fight. She did remember when she had been pimped out along the docks. And she did now what she did then: detach. She detached herself and felt the painful thrusts through a haze of disbelief and surreality

  But no matter how she tried to remain aloof, Pinzer continued thrusting into her, whispering to her her whorish past, her rubbish life, her common cunt.

  Pinzer was right.

  She would think of nothing and no one tonight.

  Six

  “Darling,” Colette said, watching her fiancé tuck a pistol carefully into the inside of his jacket.
“I can come with you. I can help.”

  A third note had finally arrived early the next day. Inside was only a set of simple directions that apparently led to a factory somewhere on the outskirts of town. It would be there that the kidnapper would be waiting for Lord Brynwood. The note also stated that the ransom had been raised to￡100,000.

  All day yesterday and all day today Lord Brynwood and Lord Sutton had been out strategizing and finalizing their plans for tonight. They had both reassured Colette that the constables had been notified and their services would be used but only after Lord Brynwood had arrived with the money first. To ride in like an infantry unit would cause immediate panic with the criminals.

  Lord Brynwood turned around. Although Colette had known the earl for several years and would soon become his wife, she couldn’t help but marvel at the impressive sight the man cut. Tall, broad, and handsome, he had no equal. But no matter how tall or broad, one man could not be a match for what would surely be a gang of thugs.

  A faint smile creased his cheek. “Colette,” he said calmly, “I have one beloved in danger. I shall not have two.” He strode over to the bed where she sat and gathered her against his chest. He could feel her slowly breathing out. “I will bring her back. I will bring back our Abigail.”

  Colette lifted her head. Her eyes were glazed over with unshed tears but her face had the steady look of a Spartan wife. “Bring both of you back. I want both of you safely back by morning,” she whispered.

  Lord Brynwood gently kissed her forehead. “And so you shall have it.”

  “You can hide the body or not,” Pinzer said casually to one of his larger lackeys. “If the constables haven’t thought to look out here by now, the idiots, then they won’t any time soon.”

  Turning his head thoughtfully, he corrected himself. “Then again, if you dispose of the body, you wouldn’t have to scatter. With a dead earl inside the walls of the factory, it wouldn’t be wise to stay here for very long. Perhaps you should get rid of the body somewhere. Maybe near the river?”

  One of the older boys in Pinzer’s employ, older than Abigail, piped up. “And when are you going to send for us?”

  Pinzer smiled, his greasiness always increased tenfold when he smiled. “I’ll need to first settle myself in India. That way I can prepare a proper place for all you lads!”

  Some of the boys cheered while others looked unsure as to whether they would enjoy moving to such a foreign land. Abigail bit her lip as she looked around at all the dirty and desperate faces. It didn’t matter how they felt. None of them would ever arrive on Indian soil. Pinzer was merely appeasing the crowd till he boarded his mysterious ship that had guaranteed him passage. Guaranteed them passage, she corrected bleakly.

  Her hands had been tied behind her back since morning. She was completely exhausted and sore. Killing Pinzer had been her only shot of saving Lord Brynwood and possibly herself. Having failed, she had no other back up. She could think of no other alternative to escape Pinzer, the ship, or India.

  But hearing Pinzer speak so nonchalantly about what to do with Lord Brynwood’s dead body, Abigail knew she had to somehow make a final rally. She had to somehow find a way to end this nightmare once and for all.

  Seven

  The moonlight cast eerie shadows across the broken and decrepit remains of the abandoned factory. Dark burns still remained on the crumbling bricks. One entire corner of the roof had completely collapsed, leaving a gaping hole in its place.

  Lord Brynwood got off his horse and hobbled it near a tree. Grabbing a heavy leather satchel, he made his way up the small hill towards the factory.

  Always having had the benefit of keen eyesight, Lord Brynwood could see, despite the darkness, that there were no lookouts posted around the perimeter of the crumbling building. No guards were set up by the door. Complete amateurs, he realized. Yet it had been these same amateurs that had managed to kidnap his Abigail. Regardless of their criminal experience, or lack thereof, the earl knew to keep his wits about him and his guard up.

  There was no door. It must have burned in the fire. With no one at the entrance, Lord Brynwood just stepped in. It was so quiet outside, he wondered if anyone was really inside. Had he been fooled after all? Perhaps they were cleverer than he gave them credit for and this was all some elaborate ruse to test his fortitude.

  But upon stepping inside, Lord Brynwood was greeted with nearly a sea of dirty and desperate faces, each one lined with the years of their hard lives. Some had the dead eyes of a man who had given up on life while others had the desperate hunger of those still willing to pounce on any presentable opportunity. But most importantly, Lord Brynwood noticed, none of them seemed to own a pistol. Dressed in rags, they had at best a few clubs for weapons. But even these were not held in ready. Most of anything that could be considered a weapon rested carelessly at their feet.

  Directly in front of him sat a thin man with long greasy black hair that curtained his face. Of all the people in the room, this man had the most animated eyes. Dark and gleaming, they shone of calculation and dark humor. Immediately, Lord Brynwood knew it was this man that had written the ransom notes.

  “Ah, my good prince Brynwood!” the man cried out, leaning back in a large wooden chair. “So you’ve arrived! Welcome to our humble abode. And let me introduce myself--I am Pinzer, leader of these merry men you find yourself among.”

  Lord Brynwood stood a few feet away from Pinzer. The man was not very tall and seemed quite thin yet the earl could sense a certain strength emanating from the criminal.

  Pinzer seemed to be assessing the earl as well. “I did wonder if you would truly come at all. Many men can speak bravado more often than they can perform it.” Pinzer’s eyes narrowed in calculation. “Obviously you are not one of those men.”

  Unless he had miscounted, there were about twenty people in the abandoned factory yet not one of them was of the fair skin and petite form of his little one.

  “Where is Abigail?” Lord Brynwood demanded.

  Pinzer smiled, his face suddenly looked more vicious and dangerous. Lord Brynwood knuckled the satchel as he realized this was the man Abigail had been trapped with for days.

  “Quite single minded aren’t we, good prince?” Pinzer said, his voice ringing with amusement.“First the payment.￡100,000, if I recall. Do you have it?”

  There was a thin desperate note in his voice. Lord Brynwood realized that the man had not truly believed he would be able to get such a sum no matter how he demanded. With a disgusted look, the earl tossed forward the large leather satchel. It plunked down near Pinzer’s feet with a weighty sound. Although Pinzer made no motion to pick it up, his face immediately relaxed into satisfied relief upon hearing the weight of the satchel.

  “I would think it quite difficult to take out￡100,000 on such short notice,” Pinzer remarked casually as if they were meeting formally for brandy and cigars.

  “It is. It helps if one has influence and means,” Lord Brynwood replied, not bothering to hide his annoyance or sarcasm.

  Pinzer laughed, amused at the earl’s gall. “Well, I do appreciate your compliance, prince. It is most welcomed.”

  “Abigail.” Lord Brynwood bit out, his anger and frustration reaching its breaking point. He was close. He could feel it. “Where is she?”

  Pinzer nodded to one of the faceless members of the crowd. The man disappeared and then reappeared a minute later with Abigail. Lord Brynwood’s heart nearly stopped at finally seeing her.

  Her face was completely bruised and battered. One eye was nearly swollen shut. Her dress was filthy and ruined. She wore no stockings and her shoes were missing. Seeing her delicate bare feet standing on the grime of the factory floor made Lord Brynwood’s vision nearly go red with rage. It was a cold night and it had been cold for several days. There was only one way Abigail would lose her stockings and the realization of it tested every ounce of Lord Brynwood’s control.

  “See? There is our sweet girl! No worse for the wear, e
h?” Pinzer said, his smile wolfish and cruel.

  Abigail stared at the earl. She heard the blood rushing through her ears. It was him! It really was him! Seeing the sight of her Lord Brynwood felt like a cool salve on a raw wound. Tears trickled down her cheeks from the sheer relief and happiness she felt in seeing him.

  Yet she was fully aware of how many people there were on the factory floor. Too many for one man to fight against. She was standing just feet away from the earl. If her arms hadn’t been bound, she might be able to touch his jacket. She was close yet what good was that? She could do nothing to help him fight his way back out.

  “And now that you have caught sight of our precious Abigail, I’m afraid I must reveal to you that I am not as honourable a man as you, prince,” Pinzer said in a dramatic fashion. Slowly he stood from his wooden chair. “I had no intention in reuniting you with your lost one, save this tiny glimpse of her face. I suppose in a last farewell.”

  Abigail’s entire body went numb. She could sense the impending danger. As cold fear rushed into her stomach, she kept her eyes on the two men. They both stood casually towards each other but she could sense the steeled readiness of them.

  Almost nonchalantly, Pinzer pulled out a pistol from behind him. “After all,” he said, aiming the pistol directly at Lord Brynwood’s chest, “I may not be honourable. But I am certainly romantic.”

  Abigail’s eyes widened in horror. “NO!” she cried as Pinzer pulled the trigger. Without thought or hesitation, she immediately threw herself at Lord Brynwood. By reflex he caught her around the middle and held her tight against him as he jerked back and reached for his own weapon.

  Grabbing hold of his own pistol, Lord Brynwood quickly drew and fired in one smooth movement. Pinzer stood frozen for a moment before blood began staining his shirt black. He grabbed at his stomach, his mouth gaping in shock, as he tried to staunch the wound but blood only flowed over his claw-like hands.