Page 79 of Tender Blackguard

Chapter Twenty-seven

Alastair tightened his hold on Lark, trying to assure her of his protection despite the trepidation running wild through his blood. How could he have thought this was a good idea? Bringing her to this place...tasking her with such a dangerous and uncertain goal. He’d promised to keep her safe. But what if he couldn’t?

Lowndes sat behind a large desk painted a gleaming black. He didn’t look up after his initial welcome and took a moment to lower his quill and close the book he’d been writing in before setting it in a drawer of the desk. Then he stood and gave a nod toward the cloaked woman in Alastair’s arms.

“Let’s see what you brought, shall we?”

Alastair moved to the center of the room, which was essentially a small office, and heard the door close behind him.

“Set her on her feet so I can have a look at her,” Lowndes instructed.

As Alastair shifted his hold on her, a soft sound of protest slid from her throat and her head lolled to one side. With his throat tight, he forced her to stand. Though she stumbled and swayed and arched in his hands, she remained on her feet. Turning her to face Lowndes, he kept one arm around her middle to hold her in place as he pulled the hood back.

Lowndes’s eyes narrowed to an assessing stare. Stepping up to Lark, he lifted her head with a finger under her chin. Alastair clenched his teeth.

“Pretty enough, I suppose,” Lowndes mused. “She has a look of youth and angelic innocence about her that some will find appealing. Remove the cloak.”

“I made sure she met your requirements,” Alastair noted testily.

The other man’s glare was hard. “I’ll not present anything I deem unfit, which means I must have a full look at the chit before we go any further. Remove the damn cloak.”

Though fury burned through his veins, Alastair fought hard to contain his ire. Releasing the ties of the cloak, he unwrapped it from around Lark and tossed it aside.

Lowndes slid his dark gaze over Lark’s form from head to toe as a slow smile widened his mouth. “You’ve dressed her up for us,” he noted, his gaze glinting in the candlelight.

Turner had mentioned something about the gown Portia brought for Lark to wear containing special features that might come in handy, but all he could see was that it barely covered her form. The bodice itself was cut ridiculously low, and the skirt was nothing but thin wisps of material held together by the black velvet sash beneath her breasts.

Since Lark had already been shrouded in the heavy cloak when the ladies had joined them, he hadn’t seen her in the gown until now. And he had an instant urge to sweep the cloak back over her.

“An angel gowned as a harlot,” Lowndes murmured appreciatively. “An interesting choice.”

When the endearment Alastair himself had used for Lark in moments of pleasure and tenderness fell from the other man’s lips, Alastair tensed and his hand curled into a fist. As though sensing his struggle, she shifted against him and her head fell back as her eyes fluttered and opened.

“The potion is starting to wear off.” Lowndes glanced at his pocket watch then nodded to her bound wrists. “She’s well secured?”

“Of course.”

Lowndes turned away and crossed to another door on the opposite end of the room. “Follow me.”

Alastair scooped Lark into his arms and followed Lowndes into a small sitting room, currently empty but for two large guards standing sentry beside another closed door. Pulling a key from his pocket, Lowndes unlocked the door and gestured for Alastair to follow him inside. “Set her there,” he said with an impatient wave of his hand.

Alastair stepped past him into a dimly lit space only slightly larger than a closet. There was no rug on the floor and no windows. Only a long bench set against one wall, where two women sat several feet apart from each other. Both were dressed in the common uniform of housemaids. They wore no gags, but their hands had clearly been bound behind their backs. Their gazes were shiny but aware. And were filled with fear and confusion.

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