Seduced

by Jess Michaels

  “That is unacceptable,” Jack burst out, his frustration boiling over at last. “You will not put yourself at risk.”

  “I’m not asking you. Now tell my driver where to go and then get in this carriage, Jack Blackwood.”

  “Or what?” he asked, both impressed and exasperated by her.

  She pressed her lips together hard and seemed to consider that question. For a moment, he thought she might not be able to come up with a suitable threat, but then her eyes lit up.

  “I shall tell your brother on you.”

  “Tattling, Letitia?” he asked with a sigh. “I thought better of you.”

  She shrugged and didn’t look the least bit sorry. “Get in the carriage, Jack. Now.”

  He saw that she would not be turned from this course of action, and the longer they stood in his drive, the more danger she was in. At least at his lair, he could protect her.

  “Fine, Letitia. Get in.”

  She reluctantly released his arm and got into the carriage, and he turned to give a few directions to her driver before he joined her. But as the carriage door shut, he found he was far less nervous about his injury than he was about her seeing the truth of where he lived and who he truly was.

  Letty caught up the hem of her silk gown and gave it a tug, rending a strip off her dress.

  Jack stared at her. “What the hell are you doing?”

  She moved to his side of the carriage and wrapped the strip around his wound tightly. “I’m making you a bandage,” she explained.

  He shook his head. “That was a beautiful gown. You shouldn’t have ruined it for me.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I don’t give a damn about the gown, Jack.”

  He darted his eyes away from hers and frowned. “I shall buy you another.”

  She put her attention to tying off the makeshift bandage, but when it was quiet in the carriage it only allowed her to think. Jack had been injured when men on horses shot at him from the street. And she had been facing the street when they did it.

  And she’d seen something. Something horrible. Almost too horrible to be believed. Her hands began to shake as she thought of it.

  He reached up and took one of her bloody hands, holding it gently. “Letitia, look at me. I’m all right. I swear to you, it is not a serious injury.”

  She bit her lip as she let her gaze move back to his face. She was going to have to tell him what she’d seen in the drive even though she didn’t want to. But not right now.

  After. After he was treated for his injury.

  “I know,” she whispered. “I just…Jack, there is so much blood. Even now it’s leaking through the bandage.”

  He winced as he turned slightly to face her. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I was so selfish as to ask for one more night with you. If I hadn’t, you wouldn’t have had to see that. You wouldn’t have been in such danger.”

  “You still would have been,” she said with a shiver. “At least I was there to help.”

  He touched her cheek. “Leave it to you to want to save me.”

  She swallowed, uncertain of what to say when the carriage suddenly veered sharply and came to a stop. Jack stroked a thumb over her cheek. “Wait here a moment. I have to talk or else your men will be in trouble.”

  She shook her head in confusion and watched as he got out of the carriage. He shut the door, but she could still hear his voice.

  “Stand down, boys, it’s me.”

  There was indistinct talking after that and then Jack opened the carriage door and held out his uninjured arm to her. “Come.”

  She stepped out at his command and looked around. The carriage had turned down a narrow alleyway. It seemed there was a way to pass through to another street, but it was currently blocked by five very large and menacing men who were holding guns and watching her servants warily.

  She didn’t know exactly where they were. This part of London didn’t look familiar to her. It didn’t smell familiar either. A stench of death and fear and other vile things hung around the worn-down buildings.

  “Jack?” she whispered.

  He took her hand. “It’s all right.”

  She looked at her servants, who remained at her carriage. They were pale and watched her with concern.

  “My men?” she asked.

  Jack nodded. “They’ll be fine. The boys will look out for them while we’re inside. Come on.”

  He led her toward what looked like a solid wall, but as she eased closer she saw there was a battered door down a narrow set of dirt steps. He helped her to the door and let out a series of rapid knocks. In a moment, the barrier swung open and a man stood there. He was huge, his face scarred and lined by years of what was obviously a hard life.

  “Where the hell have you been, Jack?” the man asked, angry enough that Letty froze in her tracks.

  Jack glared at him. “We have a guest, Hoffman. Try not to turn into a dragon just yet.”

  The man, now identified as Hoffman, shot Letty a look. “Apologies, miss.”

  “He’s injured,” Letty managed to squeak out past her fear.

  Those words changed the man’s demeanor entirely. He all but shoved Letty aside and grabbed for Jack’s poorly bandaged arm. “How?”

  “Bullet,” Jack said, shooting Letty a look. “Grazed me.”

  “Where?” the other man grunted as he motioned them both inside and moved up a long, dirty hallway that took them down corridors and short staircases. Letty’s head began to spin the farther they went.

  “At that house I bought in London,” Jack admitted, seemingly reluctantly.

  Hoffman turned to him. “Bloody hell, Jack.” He shot Letty another look. “Sorry, miss.” His attention swung to Jack again. “I told you that place had no security. No idea why you bought it.”

  “The security was its unexpectedness,” Jack said, his tone tired, like he’d argued with this man about the subject dozens of times.

  “Then how the hell did anyone know you were there?” Hoffman asked.

  “I don’t know,” Jack barked. “Can we just go find Wilkerson? This hurts like a bugger and I want to get stitched and get Letitia home safely.”

  Once again Hoffman shot her a brief look. Letty could tell he was confused by her appearance here. And perhaps a bit annoyed. He didn’t seem like the kind of man one wanted to annoy, but his worry for Jack was clearly real. It made her like him even if he didn’t care for her.

  Hoffman grunted something under his breath and turned toward a large, wooden double door. He pushed it open and revealed a huge hall. Unlike the corridors, it was tidy, though not overly decorated. It was also filled with men. At least twenty men, sitting to eat or talking by the fire that roared along one side of the room.

  When Jack entered the room, all eyes fell on them. He reached out to take her hand and she gathered close to him as he moved her into the room.

  The men called out to Jack, but all of them looked at her. And they were a scary bunch. Scarred and coarse, some unkempt. Her heart leapt as Jack steered her through them.

  “I’m fine, I’m fine,” he called out as various men asked about his bandaged arm. “Where’s Wilkerson?”

  “Through to the infirmary,” one of the men said, poking his thumb, the only finger he had left on one hand, to another door behind him.

  Jack smiled and drew Letty to the door. Hoffman followed, silent and frowning. They entered another room, this one bright with lamps. A man stood over a bed, talking softly to a person who was under the blankets.

  Jack’s demeanor changed. “Hello, Wilkerson.”

  The standing man straightened and looked at him. He had a shock of white hair, a pair of crooked spectacles and a pronounced limp as he moved across the floor.

  “What did you do to yourself, boy?” he asked.

  To Letty’s surprise, Jack smiled. “Got myself shot a bit. Can you stitch a man up?”

  “Aye,” Wilkerson said, waving Jac
k to a bed and moving to gather some supplies. Hoffman glowered at Jack and Letty a moment, then moved away to talk to the injured man Wilkerson had been tending to when they entered.

  “You look overwhelmed,” Jack said.

  Letty swallowed hard and nodded. “A bit. What is this place? Who are these people? What is going on?”

  He chuckled, but there was not much humor in his tone. “You knew I was Captain Jack, my dear. Did you not think I had a lair?”

  She shrugged. “I guess I didn’t picture it. Or if I did, not like this.”

  His smile fell slightly. “Well, we take what we can get. These are old tunnels, under the worst parts of the city. They are perfect for storing goods one doesn’t want found and people one doesn’t want caught. It’s hidden, it’s safe and it’s fairly well fortified, as there are only a few strategic entrances which are always guarded by my men.”

  She nodded slowly. “And these are all your men.”

  “Yes.” Jack motioned his head toward Hoffman. “Hoffman is my right hand. Loyal to a fault.”

  “I can see that,” she said, casting a quick glance at him, still standing by the bedside of the other man in the infirmary. “Who is that he’s speaking to?”

  Jack shifted. “One of my men who was injured, likely by the same people who shot at us tonight. That’s Higgins. He lost a leg in the attack on him.”

  Letty flinched. “I remember you telling me about that. I’m sorry to hear it.”

  “He’s recovering well,” Jack said softly, but the trouble was clear in his tone. “Wilkerson is a fine doctor, despite his horrible disposition.”

  He said the last words loudly and Wilkerson waved a hand at him with a laugh. Letty found herself smiling despite the frightening situation. Jack was so easy with his men. It was no wonder they followed him.

  Wilkerson approached with a few items on a tray, and sat down on a chair in front of the bed where Letty and Jack sat. “Off with the shirt. Show off for the lady.”

  Letty blushed as Jack did as he’d been told, shedding his shirt. Normally she would have been mesmerized by the ripple of his muscles, but tonight all she could look at was the deep cut on his arm when the doctor unwound her bandage.

  “Yours?” he asked her, holding up the strip of fabric.

  “Yes,” she admitted softly.

  “You did well,” he said with a shrug. “Didn’t tie it off to loosely or too tightly. Probably saved him some blood loss.”

  The room was quiet then as Hoffman and Letty watched the doctor wash out the wound and stitch it shut. It was all over in less than fifteen minutes, and Wilkerson rewrapped Jack’s arm, this time in a cloth bandage.

  “You’ll live,” he grunted. “Unfortunate for all who know you. Now I’m off to have a drink. Miss.”

  He nodded his head toward Letty and left. Hoffman glared, but he followed, leaving Letty and Jack alone, save for the injured Higgins, who now slept on a bed halfway across the room.

  Jack turned toward her. “You see, hardly worth the trouble you spent on me. I’m fine.”

  She pressed her lips together. “Jack, you may play this off, but you were shot tonight. If that bullet had hit you a little to one side or another, a slightly different angle, you could have been killed.”

  His expression grew serious. “As could you.”

  She shivered as that realization hit her. She’d been so concerned for Jack, she hadn’t put much thought into her own safety. But he was right. She could have been struck by an errant bullet just as easily and felt her life drain away in the driveway as Jack watched.

  Which made what she had to tell him next all the more difficult to accept.

  “I must tell you something,” she whispered.

  He nodded. “You look troubled, but you needn’t. This place, I know it is frightening to a lady such as yourself. If it changes how you feel about me, I—”

  “What?” she interrupted, staring at him in confusion. “No, Jack, no. I-I will admit this place is difficult for me to understand, but it changes nothing about how I feel for you. The truth is that what I’m about to tell you may instead change how you see me.”

  He wrinkled his brow. “I don’t understand.”

  She cleared her throat. “I—have you ever seen my brother Griffin sit a horse?”

  “You think how your brother sits a horse will change how I feel for you, Letitia?” he asked with a playfully arched brow.

  “Stop teasing me for a moment and answer,” she said, unwilling to engage in word play with him when she knew how horrible this was about to get.

  “No,” he admitted. “Your brother never rode in front of me.”

  “Well, he broke his leg as a child. It healed, but it changed his seat. His gait. I would recognize it anywhere and…” She trailed off, trying to catch her breath, trying not to sob. “And tonight when you were shot at, there were two men, two horses at your gate. One of them was ridden by my brother.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Jack could hardly able to comprehend what Letitia was saying. And in truth, he wasn’t certain she knew what she meant either. After all, it had been dark, she was upset by his injury. She could have been seeing phantoms in the midst of her terror.

  “Perhaps it only looked like him,” he suggested.

  She pressed her lips together tightly before she said, “I’m telling you, Jack. Griffin turns his foot oddly when he rides and his gait is unique. I would know it even in dim light. It was him.”

  He held her stare. There was no doubt in her eyes. No hysteria in her tone. She believed this to be true—no, she knew it to be true.

  “Your father told me tonight that your brother hadn’t returned home for several nights,” he breathed.

  She drew back. “What? Why wasn’t I told?”

  “I don’t know, you’d have to take that up with your father,” he said. “But I suppose that could mean Griffin has fallen in with Madman’s gang.”

  “Madman?” she repeated with a shiver.

  “Madman O’Malley, the man hunting me,” he said, reaching out to squeeze her hand.

  “And is he truly mad?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Mad for power. Mad with violence, yes.”

  “I can’t imagine Griffin going to such a man,” she whispered.

  He took a long breath. “He tried to go to me first.”

  “Yes and you sent him away. But still, to go to someone so vile and violent?”

  “He came to me more than once,” he admitted, watching her face contort with surprise and pain. “The last time he invaded my halls, I told him he was not ready. And he vowed he would prove me wrong. What better way than to go to my enemy? O’Malley might have even been watching him, seeing him as a weak link to exploit.”

  He pushed to his feet and reached up to scrub a hand over his face, shooting pain up his injured arm as he did so. But he deserved that pain. He’d been so stupid, and now he had hurt Letitia, hurt her brother, hurt himself…

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  He shook his head. “What your brother has or hasn’t done is not your responsibility. It is mine.”

  “How?” she asked, joining him on her feet.

  “I knew Griffin was desperate. If I had been more focused, I might have pursued that, managed it, handled him better.”

  “But you were distracted,” she said softly. “By me.”

  He met her gaze. There was no use lying to her now. “Yes,” he admitted. “By you. But also by Warrick and by the attacks on my people and my position.”

  She bit her lip, a tempting little motion that made him want to kiss her even in the midst of chaos. “Why didn’t you tell me about Griffin?” she asked.

  He hesitated. “I should have.”

  And it was true. He’d held back, trying not to involve her, trying to pretend she wasn’t important enough. But telling Letitia the truth at the time could have helped prevent all this.


  She straightened, that core of strength coming over her face yet again. “I’ll talk to him.”

  Jack moved on her, catching her arms gently. “I understand your desire to do so, but it may not be wise. Your brother hasn’t come home—why think he would now?”

  She lifted her chin. “I know him. Tonight will have shaken him. He’ll come back, if only to try to gain some purchase over himself.”

  “Perhaps you’re right,” he conceded. “But Letitia, talking to him could put you in danger. After all, at the very best he allowed you to be shot at tonight.”

  The color went out of her face at that statement. He wondered if she hadn’t considered that before. “Do you think he knew it was me?”

  “They were likely lying in wait,” he said softly. “Long enough to see the crest on your carriage when it came around to wait for you to leave.”

  She frowned. “You say at best he allowed the shooting. What is the worst?”

  “That he shot as well,” Jack said. “And did so knowing you could be injured, or worse.”

  Her face remained still, her emotions unchanging even though he felt the way her body tensed at that suggestion. She was trying to hide her pain in order to protect him, but she felt it keenly. She and her brother were so close. Jack understood that. And he understood betrayal from that person held so dear too.

  Only War hadn’t, and would never, try to harm him. In that case, Letitia won the battle of who had been caused more pain by a sibling.

  “Please tell me you won’t talk to him,” Jack said.

  She nodded slowly. “Very well. I won’t.”

  He wasn’t certain she was telling the truth. It was hard to tell from her expression, which was purposefully blank. He hated to see her that way. Hated to see her so damaged.

  He bent his head and kissed her. She went limp against him, as if she needed his strength, and he poured it into her as best he could as he tasted her lips. She opened to him, granting him free access and surrender in a way he’d never dreamed of. A way he didn’t deserve.