His gaze locked with Bear’s. “Keep her here. Keep her safe. I’ll be back soon to help her and deal with Brooke.”
Bear arched his brows. “You goin’ alone?”
“You said two men?” Gabe directed the question at Belle.
“Yes,” she said, wringing her hands. “They’re Brooke’s personal guards.”
“Not a problem,” Gabe said, already heading out the door into the cold, dark night with his mind on what he was going to do when he arrived at the townhome and what he’d do to the man if he’d violated Lady Frederica. He’d kill him. That’s what he’d do. Those actions made the man a pig, and pigs went to the slaughter.
Chapter Three
Of all the ways to receive her first kiss, being forced into enduring a man’s unwanted attentions so she could secure his weapon and protect herself from him had never occurred to Freddy. As the man Marco’s mouth smothered hers in a revolting kiss, her stomach roiled and threatened to do much more than that, but Freddy swallowed back her disgust. She almost had a grip on the dagger she’d seen at the man’s hip when he’d dragged her into the bedchamber and then chased her round and round the bed.
Her fingertips brushed the hilt, but then he gripped her hair and yanked her head back, taking the dagger out of her reach. The jackanapes! If he would just release her head, she could wind her hands around his waist, then slide them to his hips, secure the dagger, and maybe she’d plunge it into his black heart. She wasn’t sure if she could do it, but the desire to do so scalded her throat and made her pulse beat frantically.
The sting caused by her hair being tugged tight by the stocky man’s beefy fingers relented at the same time the villain pulled his wet mouth off hers. He grinned, displaying perfect teeth, except for a single space in the front where one was missing. “How’d you like that, Mayfair?”
She’d realized right away from his scornful tone that this man’s pride undoubtedly had been wounded by a proper lady in the past. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t the one who’d inflicted the injury. He wanted her to pay the price. “I suppose it wasn’t as terrible as I thought it would be,” she said. She was having a hard time feigning enthusiasm, even though doing so might be the thing to save her innocence. She’d never been any good at hiding how she really felt.
He scowled at her. “I guess I’ll just have to do it again. This time open your mouth so I can slide my tongue in there.”
She’d rather cut out her eyes with Papa’s dull letter opener, but she managed to keep that statement to herself. Instead, she gave a nod, and then said, “Maybe if you slid your arms around me instead of pulling my head so tightly it hurts.” The suggestion made her shudder inwardly, but she was able to control her disgust enough that he didn’t appear to notice. Of course, that could have been because he was staring at her chest, where he’d managed to rip open her gown. Goose bumps covered the tops of her breasts, and she could feel each and every one of them.
His answer was to jerk her to him so that she let out anoof. But before his sloppy mouth settled over hers again, she slipped her arms around his waist, despite the fact that it made her skin crawl. Having his hands anywhere else on her would be far worse. When he tensed, she forced herself to make a sound of pleasure, which if he had any sense, he’d realize was an act. Lucky for her, the man proved what she’d long suspected: women were of far superior intelligence to men or, at the very least, they all seemed to be rendered idiots when confronted with a pair of breasts.
She moved her hands toward the dagger, wrapped her fingers around the leathered hilt, then slipped it out as she held her breath in fear of discovery. Her heart pounded a painful rhythm in her ears, and she began to shake, but she turned her head sideways, breaking contact with his mouth, and brought the point of the dagger to his side.
“I’ll shove it all the way in if you do not release me right now.” Her voice trembled just as much as her body did.
His surprised gaze met hers. “Well, well,” he said, his sickly sweet breath washing over her face. “Aren’t you surprising?”
“Yes, it’s a fault I’m told,” she managed through clenched teeth. “Now back up.” When he didn’t move, she pushed the tip of the dagger into his side a bit harder, which made her feel queasy but produced the reaction she’d hoped it would.
He scuttled backward, palms up and facing her. “There now, Mayfair. Let’s not make this rough.”
Her spine curled at his meaning. “Move back more,” she said, shaking so hard now that the knife in her grip visibly quivered. The man’s eyes went to the dagger, then back to her.
“You’ve never held a knife,” he said, smirking.
She hadn’t, blast her mother, father, and brother. They’d all acted as if she’d mortally sinned when she’d suggested she wished to learn how to defend herself. “I’ll manage,” she replied, taking a step toward the open bedchamber door, toward escape. When he advanced instead of staying where she’d told him to, her stomach hollowed, then vines of pricking terror spread like a weed from her stomach through her veins to her limbs. She wasn’t sure she could move, but she had to.
“Come any closer to me, and Iwillstab you.” She took another four steps toward the door.
It was one or perhaps two steps to the hall, then what? Even if she managed to flee the bedchamber, she had to escape the house, and there was another man here somewhere, or at least she assumed he was still here. She hadn’t seen anyone since Marco had dragged her to this room. And what of Blythe and Belle? Freddy’s thoughts tripped over themselves.
Think, Freddy, think.
Her only hope was to stab him or hit him with something. She cast her gaze sideways toward the bird statue on the table near the door. It looked heavy and—
“I wager I can reach you before you ever reach that statue,” Marco taunted.
Freddy didn’t think; she lunged. Marco slammed into her just as her fingers grasped the statue. They both flew to the right of the door, landing hard upon the floor. Before she knew what was happening, he was straddling her, his heavy weight crushing her stomach and hips as his thighs locked her in place. He twisted her hand clutching the dagger so that he came away holding it.
Damn, damn, damn.She swung the statue at his face, but he knocked it out of her hands. It smacked against the ground, several pieces splintering off, one of which caught Freddy on the cheek, slicing her skin in a stinging slash.
“I don’t like women who lie,” Marco said, bringing the dagger to just under Freddy’s chin.
Her heart sounded like clopping boots in her ears, so much so that she almost believed someone was coming for her. She looked toward the open door, but no one was there. She frowned at the loudness of the thumping that was making her imagine things.
