Kidnapped with a Knight: A Steamy Regency Romance (Ravishing Regencies Book 0.5)

by Emily Murdoch

  A widow. A woman with nothing to lose in the area of love, and much to catch up on.

  Edmund smiled as his eyes remained shut as the knocking increased.

  “That was…that was wonderful.”

  God, he knew he should not take such delight in it, but he could not help it. He was a man! Any man who heard such words would find not only their ego growing, and it had been clear she had spoken the truth.

  That a woman married for two years had not experienced pleasure, true pleasure, was an outright shame.

  The fact that he was the one who gave it to her was, of course, the second best part.

  And yet that knocking still did not go away.

  “Hie there, open up!”

  Edmund’s eyes snapped open. “It is them. Molly, it is the kidnappers!”

  He had thought she would open her eyes with a smile, with relief that they were about to be released form their slightly damp prison. But as he looked down, Molly was looking at him in terror.

  “W-What?”

  Edmund sat up so quickly that Molly almost fell from him, so desperate was he to find his clothes. “The kidnappers are knocking at the door! My God, never a sentence I ever thought I would say…”

  His voice trailed off as he looked everywhere for his breeches. How was it possible for them to have disappeared?

  Molly was still lying on the floor and she had a frantic look on her face. “Edmund, I do not think we should answer the door.”

  Edmund paused, one leg in and one leg out of the breeches he had finally discovered. “What do you mean?” Her words were so nonsensical, he almost tipped over. “We have been in here for days now, Molly, the food has run out, and even with your tap magic we cannot survive on water alone.”

  Molly bit her lip. She looked terrified, and Edmund understood her concern.

  Pulling on the second breeches leg, he knelt down to her and smiled. “You have nothing to fear, Molly. I will not let them hurt you, I will not let them even touch you. You are completely safe with me.”

  She opened her mouth to speak but the knocking started up again, more insistent this time, and a second voice called out through the door.

  “Wake up!”

  “Wait.” Molly spoke hastily as she rose to her feet but Edmund was barely focusing on her. He knew he had a shirt somewhere. “Edmund, I do not want to go to the door. Please do not – if you trust me – ”

  Edmund was just finishing the last button when his brain caught up with his fingers. He looked over at Molly. There was something different in her voice, now. Something desperate. Pleading. She truly did not want to go over and talk to the kidnappers banging on the door.

  “Why?” He said slowly.

  Molly swallowed, a curl of her golden hair falling across her eyes. Edmund’s stomach contracted. She was so innocent, despite the widowhood. She knew so little of the world, and here she was, trapped in a house with a man disowned by his family.

  “Hie there!” The knocking had returned and the voice was louder than ever. “We want to speak to Molly – Molls, are you still in there?”

  Edmund froze. He must have heard that wrong – that could not be correct. How in God’s name could that be possible?

  His eyes darted to Molly, who stood hurriedly and tried to tie on her gown properly. Her fingers were fumbling as she spoke hastily.

  “Edmund, I need to tell you – ”

  “Molly!” The harsh voice shot through the door again and Edmund felt nausea rising in his stomach.

  “Edmund, wait – ”

  Ignoring Molly’s hand reaching out to him, Edmund picked up his shirt and pulled it on as he strode across the room to the door where the knocking was emanating. His mouth was dry and his hands were wet.

  He swallowed. “How do you know Miss – Mrs Kimble’s name?”

  There was a moment of terrible silence. Then laughter broke out on the other side of the door.

  Edmund turned around to see Molly standing in the middle of the room, her face white, her hands twisted together. Something painful jolted in his heart. Could it be…

  “Not know Mrs Kimble’s name?” One of the kidnappers guffawed. “Why would not know our own sister’s name?”

  Molly could not move a muscle. The only thing that seemed to be able to stir was her heart, thundering against her ribcage as though desperate to escape it.

  Edmund was staring at her with wide eyes, his shirt badly buttoned and his hair messy. Both of them were ignoring the continued knocking on the other side of the door.

  It did not matter. Molly’s secret, the secret she had hoped to take with her – the secret she had hoped would never be necessary to reveal – had been shattered and the repercussions were only just starting. She knew that.

  She should have known it was all too good to be true. Women like her did not meet and fall in love with gentleman like him.

  “No,” Edmund whispered.

  Molly found she could move again and she took a step forward, speaking hurriedly. “Just because I am related to someone, that does not mean – that does not make me any less of a prisoner in here, Edmund!”

  “What?” Edmund scoffed, taking a step away from her and preserving the gap between them. “I hate to break it to you, Mrs Kimble, but that is almost certainly what it means! How could you keep something like that from me? How could you fail to mention that – ”

  “They are nothing to me, nothing at all,” Molly said hastily. This was her nightmare, this was exactly what she feared, and bitterness rose in her throat as she thought how close she had been to happiness. “Edmund, I swear to you, my brothers and I…we fell out, months ago, and – ”

  “Those two men in the pub,” Edmund interrupted, his eyes still wide. “Were they…?”

  Molly swallowed. The instinct to continue lying was strong but if she was ever going to untangle herself from this mess, she needed to come clean.

  It was going to be one of the most difficult conversations she ever had. Would he ever trust her again?

  Would she blame him if he did not?

  “Yes,” she said heavily. “Those were my brothers. I had met with them to attempt to persuade them to leave their crimes behind them – as I have!”

  As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Molly realised her mistake.

  “As you have?” Edmund stared at her, and now all the warmth had disappeared from his eyes. “As you have, Molly? God’s teeth, ‘tis worse than I thought! Here I was, thinking I had found myself…”

  “What?” Molly prompted.

  But Edmund was not to be drawn, that was clear. He frowned at her. “Nothing. ‘Tis of no consequence now, the person I thought you were is dead. She never lived.”

  Pain shot through Molly’s heart. “She does – I am right here, Edmund!”

  “Molls girl, come and talk to us!”

  Molly ignored the battering of her brothers. She had attempted to escape them before and not managed it. She was not going to allow them to destroy perhaps her one chance of happiness.

  “Yes, they are criminals,” she said quickly, as though speaking rapidly would make the words less painful for her to say and for Edmund to hear. “Yes, I helped them in my younger years – how do you think I met my husband? But no, I am not that person anymore. I have changed, I have left that all behind me!”

  Edmund shook his head with a wry smile. “No one can change that much.”

  Irritation burned in Molly’s lungs, and before she could stop herself, she shouted, “Just because your father did not want to change, that does not mean that I cannot!”

  There was ringing silence after her words. Edmund stared at her, pain etched across his features. He opened his mouth to say something but no words came out.

  Molly closed her eyes. “I…I cannot believe I said that. Edmund, I am sorry, I – ”

  “I always thought that my father was wrong,” he said slowly, cutting through her words. “He always told me that the lower classes were base, trea
cherous, and criminal. But most of all, he told me that they could not help themselves. That it was bred into them, and so it was foolish to expect good of them.”

  Molly’s eyes snapped open. Edmund was leaning against the wall now, looking at her with narrowed eyes.

  “And he was right,” he said softly. “God damnit, Molly, you have proved him right. You are just like the rest of them, like your brothers. Everything you are saying is a lie.”

  Panic was rising in Molly now. She had been sure she could explain everything show him just what she meant, what he meant to her.

  But there was a dull sadness in Edmund’s eyes now. He had lost all hope, all trust in her. And she deserved it. Why, oh why had she not told the truth when she had had the chance?

  “Edmund,” she said softly, taking a step towards him. “You have never made a mistake? You have never wanted to change things? I know you have, you left your family and your title, your money, all of it behind. Because you wanted to change. Because you saw your father and saw what you did not want to be.”

  He did not respond but just stared at her. Molly swallowed.

  “You have to believe me when I say that I have left that part of myself behind. My brothers…they have not. They wanted to punish me, to frighten me, I suppose, into returning to the family business. That is why I am here. There is no other reason.”

  For a moment, Molly thought he believed her. Something shifted in his eyes, the way he was looking at her. She smiled slightly and reached out a hand to him.

  Edmund pushed past her and strode to the other side of the room. “You sought me out in the pub. You meant for this to happen – ‘tis a honeytrap!”

  A flicker of irritation seared through Molly’s heart. “If I remember correctly, you were the one who sought me out – you asked me to search you, and then propositioned me!”

  But Edmund was not listening to her, he did not seem to be listening to reason. “You are the honey, you are the reason I am here. What share of the spoils were you promised, Molly – oh, of course there will be none with me. What a fool you must have felt, discovering I had no wealth.”

  “I knew that in the King’s Head!” Molly said desperately. “Would I be so stupid to lock myself in with you? Kidnapping a knight, why would we do that on Christmas Eve when I could have been anywhere else?”

  But he did not want to hear her words. He did not want to be convinced, she could see that. It was just like talking to her brothers all over again.

  They did not want to hear the truth.

  The door slammed open and there stood Tom and Jack. Tom looked gleeful, but there was a look of concern on Jack’s features.

  “Dear me, Molls, it looks like you are in far more trouble than we thought,” leered Tom. “Pretty boy not believe you? What a shame?”

  “Go to hell, Tom,” Molly spat, pouring all her anger and frustration towards him.

  Tom’s eyes narrowed. “Now, that is not a pleasant thing to say to your brother, though I must admit I have not enjoyed hearing most of what you have been saying. Truly going to leave us, are you? Well, Molls. You are not a person we can trust anymore.”

  Molly snorted. “Fine, do not trust me. Do you think I care about that right now?”

  “I suppose you will say that you care about me right now,” said Edmund quietly.

  Molly turned on the spot to look at Edmund, her face softened. “Yes.”

  “So the decision is simple,” interrupted Tom’s voice.

  Molly turned to look at her brother. “Really?”

  Tom nodded. “Kill you, or leave you here to rot. Either way, Molls, you cannot be allowed to live.”

  9

  What was that thumping, almost overwhelming noise? It was all Edmund could hear, and it felt like an age until he realised that it was his own pulse, throbbing in his head so that all he could do was hear the thud, thud, thud.

  The last ten minutes had utterly changed his world. For a few hours, just a morning, he had believed himself the most fortunate gentleman in the world.

  Who else had awoken in the arms of a beautiful woman like Molly Kimble? Witty, strong, determined to be her own person and yet warm to those around her. Two days was all it had taken for him to fall completely in love with her.

  And there she stood, his temptress and betrayer. She had known all along that she would be rescued, taken away by these brothers of hers.

  Edmund felt nausea rise up in his stomach again. What was he – just something to pass the time?

  Her golden hair was falling down her shoulders and it moved as she shook her head.

  “You – you won’t let them take me, will you?”

  Edmund opened his mouth to speak but found he had no words. No, he did not want her to be hurt, but neither could he bring himself to look at Molly again. Not now that he knew almost everything that had passed between them was a lie. Not now that he could not believe a single word she said.

  “What a charmer,” Tom sneered. “Not going to protect her, then? Some gentleman you make.”

  Fire rose in Edmund’s throat and he found his voice. “I do not believe you will really harm her. Molly is your sister, your older sister by the look of it. You may be a brigand, but you are not heartless.”

  The young brother – Jack, was it? – frowned as he looked at the elder. “Tom, we would never – ”

  “You do not know what we would never do,” snarled Tom. “You do not remember what we had to do, Molls and I, to keep you warm and clothed and safe, boy, so do not think of telling me what to do.”

  Edmund heard the bitterness but it washed off him like softly falling rain. All he could think about was the pain inside his own heart.

  His eyes lifted and caught Molly’s gaze on him, and there was a flash of fire between them that he did not understand. How was it possible to feel this close to someone and yet so distant from who you thought they were?

  “Edmund…”

  Her voice was soft but it trailed off as she saw the ferocity in his eyes.

  “Just…just take her,” Edmund found himself saying. So detached was he from his own body, his heart aching so badly he could barely feel anything else, that it was like someone else was speaking using his own voice. “Take her and leave me here. I have no wish to see her again.”

  Molly’s mouth fell open. “You – you would let them hurt me?”

  But her words did not seem to make any sense. How could she be more hurt than he was now, as he stood and stared at the personification of betrayal?

  Yes, he had bedded a fair few women in his time. What gentleman had not?

  But he had always been honest with them. Too honest, in some situations. He had always told them about his family, how he had broken with them and why, and that there was no coin more than that already in his pocket.

  It did not stop them. It did not hold them back because it was honesty that was the genuine moment between them, nothing else.

  He had thought there was so much more with Molly. So much more; like kindred spirits who had found each other in the darkness of the world.

  But he had been wrong. She was just as dark as the rest of it – perhaps the cause for some of it.

  “Just leave me here,” Edmund heard himself say in a dull, resigned voice. “I can find my own way back home.”

  He had not expected them to accept his proposal with gratitude, but Edmund was surprised to see the anger rise in Tom’s face.

  “And you think we will just walk away from the goldmine that you are? You must think me a fool.”

  Edmund snorted and sat down heavily. “No, I think the only fool in this place is me. But you will make yourself into a fool, sir, if you persist in believing me to be a goldmine. Have you no eyes? Can you not see the state I am in?”

  Tom’s hesitant eyes took in the ruffled shirt, the unbuttoned waistcoat, the breeches hastily thrown on. “You are dishevelled, as any man would be after – ”

  “Really look,” Edmund said frustration. It wa
s easier this way, to pour out his bitterness into ire at the brothers, when all he wanted to do is cry at the sister and ask what he could possibly have done to deserve such treatment. “I warrant the waistcoat is a good few years old of date. The buttons certainly are, as I traded the originals for meals months ago.”

  The two brothers stood, irresolute and unable to make a decision.

  Jack turned to Molly. “He is lying.”

  “He is not,” she said flatly.

  Edmund leaned back nonchalantly in the full knowledge that it would infuriate Tom all the more. “Utterly disowned by the family, old chap, I do apologise. I am just a knight now, or a baronet or whatever they call them these days. You know, it is awfully bad luck for you though. Just think. If I had not argued with my father all those years ago, you would have abducted a duke, or a marquis at the very least. But as it is…”

  He stretched out his arms wide, more than enough to explain his point.

  Tom’s eyes were darting between him and his sister. “‘Tis all nonsense. Gentlemen do not disown their sons, they keep them – they give them money, they rescue them!”

  “Does it look like I am being rescued?” Edmund tried to keep the anger out of his voice. God’s teeth, the very idea that his father or one of his brothers could ride in and rescue him now would be marvellous, but as always, he would have to fight his own battles. “If you have any intelligence at all, young sir, you will leave me to rot here in peace. What did you think I was doing at the King’s Head? Waiting for my servants to meet me?”

  “He speaks the truth.”

  Molly’s voice was low, heavy with sadness, but Edmund refused to look at her. She was the one who had tricked him, had lied to him – well, if omissions on that scale could be called lying, and if you asked him, it could. There was nothing more he could say to her. His heart panged each time she spoke and he did not know what he would do if she spoke directly to him.

  Molly’s dark eyes shifted and caught Edmund’s, and he felt paralysed, as though trapped in a vice.

  How could he have trusted her? She had not even been entirely truthful with her name. Everything about her was a lie, and the more he thought about it, the more embarrassed Edmund became about his own brutal honesty.