Page 31 of Presenting Miss Letitia (Once a Wallflower 1)

Fraughton spun Letty around, an arm across her chest, a surprisingly strong hand covering her mouth. She struggled to free herself. In a panic, she feared she would smother.

“Let her go,” Marston said coldly.

Fraughton released his hold as Marston stepped close. Letty watched helplessly as he raised his fist.

A sharp blow to her chin, a shot of pain, and she sank into darkness.

Brandon woke to a rocking sensation. A throb of pain radiated from a sore spot at the back of his head. His mouth dry, he licked his lips, needing water. He eased his eyes open and looked upon two, perfectly shaped, pale breasts. He moaned. Miss Bromley, her body lying beside him on the coach seat. In the dim carriage light, her long dark lashes fluttered, but she breathed well. Relieved, he put up a hand to cover her chest with the domino, and discovered as her hand accompanied his, that their wrists were tightly shackled together with rope. The seat opposite them was empty; it appeared they traveled alone. The horses moving at a measured pace, the coach rolled through the night, he had no idea as to where they went, nor who held the reins.

The immediate question of escape was quickly dashed. Even supposing he managed to kick the door open, which would probably be locked, it would be impossible to act on it with any degree of safety while tied to Miss Bromley.

“Miss Bromley,” he whispered, shaking her wrists gently.

She stirred. “Ohh.” Her big brown eyes widened. “Cartwright! What happened? Where are we?”

“In a carriage.” His concern for her warred with frustration. “I’m afraid we are in a nasty fix.”

“I know, I…there was a cat.”

He raised his eyebrows. “A cat?”

“Yes. It startled me, and I leapt out of the bushes.”

“The bushes?”

“Where I was hiding,” she explained, watching him carefully. “Then they found me.”

“I gathered that.”

“Are you all right? You have suffered a head injury. Your understanding may have been affected.”

“My understanding is perfectly fine, thank you, Miss Bromley. Although I would prefer it to desert me at this point.”

She tried to sit up and fell across him. “Oh my God! We are tied together!”

“So it would seem,” he said dryly.

She attempted to ease her body away from his, a useless exercise on the narrow coach seat. “Your knee is touching my…are you doing that deliberately?”

“I am not.” He eased his knee away from her thigh. “There, is that better?”

“I’m sorry, Cartwright, I have no right to scold you.”

He saw the panic in her eyes. “Best conserve your energy,” he said. “I give you my word, I’ll not hurt you.”

“The word of a spy? Is that supposed to reassure me?”

“I have no designs on your person, and even if I did, I doubt such an attempt would be successful.” No reason why he couldn’t look, however.

She peered up at him through a loosened lock of dark hair. “I seem to have got us into an awful pickle.”

“You might say that.”

She raised her hand and his with it, grimaced, and gingerly touched her chin. “I remember now. Marston struck you with his pistol butt. Then he punched me.”

Cold fury filled his gut. I’ll get even with him for that. If it’s the last thing I do. He might not even get to do that if he couldn’t find a way out of this. What did these ruthless men intend for them? They would not balk at murder.

“Can you undo this rope?” she asked. “It’s very tight and hurts my wrists.”

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