Kidnapped by the Gentleman

by Drake LaMarque

  He smiled as he saw Kaito, keeping watch from the prow of the Devil’s Whore. It would be better for everyone with Cedric gone. Less distractions, and far less drama. Yes, this had been a wonderful plan he’d thought up, planned and just about executed.

  He stepped lightly up the gangplank, went to Dante’s cabin and set the bag of coins down in front of him.

  Dante sighed, because Gabriel had just put the bag down on the ledger, and possibly smudged the writing he’d been doing.

  Gabriel smiled at him. “Count it, make sure it’s all there.”

  Dante set his pen in its holder and pulled the bag open and started to count it, setting the coins down in little stacks. It added up quickly and Gabriel felt his cheeks start to ache with the width of his smile.

  Dante emptied the bag. “There’s actually a little extra, Captain.”

  “As it should be, if they want their boy back,” Gabriel felt almost giddy. “I’ll secure that, and you and Marco can take Cedric to his father’s friend, I told him to wait with his carriage a the East docks, on the far side.”

  He scooped the coins back into the bag and tied the neck of it. He waited for Dante to stand and then led the way up to the deck. Marco was lounging in the doorway to his cabin, looking in and chatting with Cedric.

  “Marco!” Gabriel called. “It’s time, they’ve paid up and we’ll celebrate tonight!”

  Crew members from around the ship cheered at his words, and Gabriel smiled even wider, ignoring the look Cedric was attempting to give him. He suspected it was reproachful and would ruin his mood.

  “Come on, then,” Marco said. He gestured to Cedric, who got up slowly.

  “Wonderful.” Cedric stood up and stretched his arms over his head. Gabriel didn’t look away from that, he watched as Cedric’s shirt rode up and exposed a strip of his stomach. The pose, with his hands over his head, reminded Gabriel of fucking him while he pinned him down.

  Gabriel felt his cheeks warm with the memory, and with the thoughts of other things he’d be able to do to Cedric, should he stay on the ship.

  But that was ridiculous, he’d taken the payment.

  Of course, he was a pirate. It’s not like anyone would be surprised if he backed out on a deal…

  But crossing the British Navy so close to their own waters would be suicide.

  Marco moved out of the doorway and Cedric walked through. To Gabriel’s annoyance the crew all called out to Cedric.

  “See you!”

  “Try not to get into more trouble, Ced!”

  “By ‘Rick!”

  “We’ll miss you.”

  Cedric smiled and waved at them like he was a member of the royal family. Gabriel’s temper bubbled over.

  “All right, that’s quite enough!” The crew went quiet and Cedric dropped his hand to his side. “Dante, if you please, remove him from the ship now. Officer Wright should be at the East docks with a carriage of some sort.”

  Dante took Cedric by the arm. “Come along then,” he said.

  Gabriel was grateful he hadn’t taken him by the hand. He watched as Dante and Marco escorted Cedric down the gangplank.

  Cedric glanced over his shoulder at Gabriel. “No goodbye kiss?” it was a question but delivered as a barb, an insult of a kind.

  Gabriel remembered when they’d brought him onboard, unconscious and sweet looking, his eyes closed and his curls falling into his face. He’d had no idea of what Cedric awake would be like.

  His heart thumped dully. He’d miss him.

  He went to the prow of the ship to watch as the handover occurred and tried to regain the excitement and elation he’d felt getting back aboard his ship.

  Chapter 22

  In which the hostage is returned to dry land

  All right, so saying “no goodbye kiss” to Gabriel was definitely a barb. The kind of sniping you’d expect at some high society dinner where one of the guests hated one of the other guests for getting engaged to the wrong person.

  But I had to have the last word, one way or another. This might well be the last time I ever saw Gabriel, or any of them, and I wanted them to remember me.

  Marco chuckled and shook his head. “I’ll give you a kiss goodbye if you like.”

  “You will not,” Dante said. His hand tightened on my arm and I allowed myself to enjoy that ever so slightly.

  “That’s very sweet of you, Marco,” I said, surprised. “Perhaps in other circumstances I’d accept that offer, but unfortunately, in this particular situation, I don’t actually feel like taking you up on it.”

  “Ah well,” Marco said, lightly. “Maybe some other time.”

  I looked around as we got down to the moorings. Presumably the friend of my father’s was waiting to whisk me away, back to my old life. What a dreary thought. Every step I took away from the Devil’s Whore made me feel heavier, more despairing.

  At least I could look forward to seeing Oliver again, that thought was the one spark of hope.

  We were already nearing the East docks, and I cursed Marco and Dante for walking so fast. There was a carriage on the street, a few hundred metres away. A tall man in a British Naval uniform stood nearby it.

  “That’s the one,” Dante said, and steered me towards the man and his carriage. There was a fair amount of traffic on the street, people unloading things from their ships, people with handcarts full of wares, heading into the city. People wearing clothes from all sorts of different cultures. The Englishman rather stood out.

  The carriage he stood by looked a little unusual too, as most people had open pony carts or barrows. The dark stained wood stood out against the buildings.

  The man wasn’t at all familiar to me, which wasn’t entirely surprising. I didn’t pay an awful lot of attention to my father’s friends and he didn’t often host them at our London house. He perked up when he saw us approach, which was promising.

  Dante squeezed my arm again. “Cedric,” he said softly. I looked up at him, frowning.

  “What?”

  “Stay safe. These people who are after you…” he trailed off, took a deep breath and sighed, his expression tormented. “Just, try and stay out of trouble.”

  My heart ached, and all I wanted in that moment was to reassure him that I’d be fine. I didn’t believe it at all, but I hated the thought of leaving Dante with a whole lot of drama and sadness so I plastered a smile across my face and winked at him.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, old man,” I said, as cheerily as I could manage. “Not to worry. The Navy will protect me, and then I’ll be back in London and hitting the clubs again. And not the weird sex cult ones, I promise.”

  Dante didn’t look entirely comforted, but he slid his hand down my arm, to my hand and squeezed it tight. Out on the streets of this unknown port I expected he didn’t feel comfortable kissing and hugging me.

  Well, I didn’t care. I threw my arm around his neck and kissed him, hard but brief, because as soon as I was kissing him I didn’t want to stop, and I knew I must. My throat closed with unshed tears and I felt them welling behind my eyes.

  Ridiculous, utterly ridiculous.

  I let go of Dante and turned to Marco. “Make sure the Captain doesn’t do anything stupid like get himself killed. This one too,” I nodded back at Dante, then turned on my heel and started striding towards the man with the carriage. What had Gabriel said his name was? Mister Wright?

  I blinked rapidly, trying to convince the tears behind my eyes to stay there, or in fact, bugger all the way off. I swallowed twice, and kept the smile on my face.

  I raised my hand to the man, who was moving forward to meet me. His face brightening as I got closer.

  “Cedric, thank the stars you’re all right!” He called as we closed the distance between us.

  “Mister Wright, is it?” I said, putting my hand out to shake it. “So sorry, I don’t remember meeting you before, but jolly good of you to help out.”

  “Of course.” He took my hand in his, his grip was firm, indee
d.

  “I do hope they didn’t hurt you in some way,” he said, looking over my shoulder where no doubt Dante and Marco had already disappeared, making their way back to the Devil’s Whore. No doubt the ship was already casting off.

  I didn’t look back. I didn’t think I could stand it. He kept his grip on my hand, and turned to open the carriage door with the other, drawing me closer to it.

  “No, I’m quite all right. So, uh, I understand you’ve been in touch with Father?”

  “Yes, of course, we can talk back at the hotel, just get up into the carriage and we’ll be on our way,” he said. I did as he said, stepping up into the carriage. It was confoundingly dark inside, with the curtains drawn, and I found myself quite unable to see after the bright afternoon sunlight.

  Then hands grabbed me from within the carriage.

  “What the devil is this?” I asked, more confused than startled, as my mind suddenly conjured images of Captain Gabriel in the dark of the carriage, stealing me back already.

  I was pulled down onto the seat of the carriage and hands pulled my arms behind my back.

  By this time I was less confused and more alarmed. The door to the carriage hadn’t quite closed, so I thrashed my arms, trying to get loose and kicked at the shadowy figures in the dark.

  “Hey! Help!” I cried out, as loudly as I could. One of my arms slipped free of my captors and I thrust it forward to push the door open. I staggered once, shoving my head out the door to shout again. “Dante!”

  Then I was pulled roughly back into the carriage and the door slammed shut. Within seconds the carriage started to move, but I was still trying to fight off my unseen assailants. My arms were wrenched behind my back and I shouted again but something was stuffed into my mouth. Ropes tightened around my arms and were pulled tight, the ropes cutting into my skin.

  Well, fuck.

  I kicked the nearest person, my eyes were starting to adjust in the dim light, and I managed to get him between the legs, which was somewhat satisfying, even as a sense of utter dread settled over me.

  “Secure his legs too, but don’t hurt him, the elder won’t like it if he’s harmed.” Hands grabbed my legs and soon they were bound as well.

  I tried to ask who the fuck the elder was, but the wad of fabric shoved into my mouth had now been secured with a scarf or something, so it just came out as noises.

  “Quiet, boy.” Someone lit one of the gas lamps and the interior of the carriage was brought into bright relief. I half wished it hadn’t been. I was on the floor, bound and helpless, gagged and angry.

  The man who had spoken leaned in, sneering unpleasantly. “Check his back, make sure it really is the right one,” he said. His face was pale, pinched and dry looking. He had a very straight, pointed nose and his eyes were hooded under thick eyebrows.

  Someone’s hand pushed my shirt back off my shoulder.

  “Aye, that’s the symbol, all right. This is Cedric.”

  Fuck, fuck, double fuck. I’m so absolutely dead. The cult has got me, and I couldn’t get away and now they have me tied up and they’re going to kill me.

  I hoped that Dante and Marco had somehow heard my cries for help, but my heart sank. Gabriel had got what he wanted, he’d been paid. Gabriel and his crew had no reason to care what happened to me now… unless … they actually did like me?

  But how likely is that, really? You’re alone. Alone with the cult who want to kill you.

  And there’s nothing you can do about it.

  Chapter 23

  In which Cedric meets elder Harrow

  The carriage ride was interminably long and rough. I couldn’t move, because if I shifted even a tiny bit away from the back of the seat, I was going to fall on the floor of the carriage.

  There was the creepy faced man sitting opposite me, looking at me with supreme self-satisfaction and smiling in a way that made my skin crawl.

  When I craned my head to look at the others, there were three of them. One was a woman, with arched eyebrows and a modest black dress on. The other two were men, and they all looked rather pleased with themselves as well.

  They didn’t speak at all over the course of the ride, which was damned unsettling.

  I gave up on trying to talk, there was no way I could make myself understood, and besides they weren’t speaking to me or to each other. My mouth tasted of linen and my shoulders began to ache with the unnatural strain the tight ropes had put on them.

  Finally, the carriage came to a stop and the woman with the eyebrows opened the door. With some difficulty I was bundled out of the carriage by the rest of them. For all the ‘don’t hurt him’ talk, they certainly seemed happy enough to whack my shoulder on the door of the carriage and all but drop me on the ground.

  We were outside some kind of estate house, not at all unlike the houses in the English countryside just out of London.

  Clearly some English lord or other had brought a great deal of money to Morocco to recreate his house back home. What an expense.

  We stopped directly in front of it, and I got a good look at it as I was carried in by the two men.

  They took me to a side room off the foyer, and set me down on the floor.

  “Ought we to remove the gag?” the woman said, and one of the men shook his head. When he replied he did so with a Spanish accent.

  “Elder Harrow will do it, if he sees the need.”

  “I’ll tell him the boy is here,” the man with the pinched, pale face said.

  I’m sure he heard the carriage arrive, I thought, dryly.

  I squirmed into an upright position against the nearest bit of furniture, which looked to be an ornately carved and decorated wooden seat in the local style. Utterly at odds with the English manor decor.

  The woman sat near me, but not close enough to touch, on the seat.

  “How pretty you are,” she murmured, and I wasn’t sure if she intended for me to hear or was just speaking to herself. “How lucky you are, to be part of what is to come.”

  I turned my head enough to see her, so that I could give her an eye roll and my most skeptical arch of the brow.

  There was the clatter of shoes in the hallway and a man entered the room.

  The woman stood and sort of bowed to him, so I gathered he was the elder of the cult. I eyed him for any sign of ritual knife or some indication that he was about to cut my throat, but he appeared to be an ordinary man.

  “Cedric Hale-Harrington, at last,” he said. His accent was pure London high society, as I had guessed from the house. “Welcome to my home.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him, and then tossed my curls to show him how little I cared for the house.

  “Natalia, would you remove the gag, I’d rather like to hear our chosen one’s voice,” he said. The woman smiled and knelt beside me. She slid her thumbnail along my cheek above the gag, not enough to scratch but enough that I could feel it. I didn’t bother to suppress the shudder.

  She gave a soft little giggle and then tugged at the knot in the back of my head, making the gag cut deeper into my mouth as she untied it.

  I spat the piece of fabric out as soon as I was able. It appeared to be someone’s handkerchief, now rather sodden with my spit.

  She picked it up delicately and rose with a rustling of skirts. She took both scraps of material to elder Harrow.

  “Thank you, dear sister. You may place these in the Great Room, next to the other artefacts. Close the door behind you, I wish to speak with him alone.”

  Natalia and the men skulked out, all weird and silently, and closed the door, leaving me at the foot of this cult master.

  I smacked my lips, trying to stir up some moisture since the gag had taken it all away from me.

  “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced,” I said, as sarcastically dry as I could manage, which wasn’t easy since I was tied up on his floor. But I felt like I mustered a certain amount of irony.

  “Of course. I’m elder Harrow, a member of the organisation behind the Hel
lfire club, which you were so generous to attend in Kingston.”

  “Organisation? You mean creepy death cult,” I said.

  “You might see it that way,” he said. He strode slowly up the room, and then back, inviting me to look at him in all his glory. “But the order of the Unknowable Way is much, much more than you think it is. And you shall be the star at the centre of it all.”

  I huffed and tried to find a comfortable position, which was impossible. “The last time I was kidnapped, the ropes were actually rather comfortable, your people could learn a thing or two from Captain Lucifer and his crew,” I said, as if I were giving a poor report of dinner at a restaurant.

  “Captain Lucifer,” Harrow spat on the floor. “Interfering with our plans. We could have completed the ritual weeks ago, but he stole you out from under our noses. He and his ship will burn, mark my words.”

  “I will not.”

  “You are integral to our grand design, did you realise?”

  “You put a gigantic tattoo on my back, so yes, I was slightly aware,” I said. I tried to roll my shoulders forward to alleviate some of the strain but the ropes cut in tighter.

  “Mm, yes, the tattoo. I should like to see that.” He moved closer as if to touch my shoulder and seized by the annoyance of the whole thing, and no small dose of fear, I tried to bite his hand. He drew it back too quickly for me.

  “Hmm, well. I’ll see it in the ritual. I’ll call the acolytes in to prepare you and then we’ll bring you to the Great Room.”

  My heart thumped, and my stomach tied itself in a knot. “This ritual, I don’t suppose it’s a little chanting, maybe light some candles, and that’s all, is it?”

  Harrow smiled in a deeply unpleasant way, showing all his teeth.

  “There will be candles and chanting, but there’s a great deal more to it than that, chosen one. You’ll play your part, whether you desire to or not. Now, you’ll need to be bathed and dressed.”