What thehellhad happened?
Last he remembered he’d been making arrangements for the competition with his son. He’d stayed behind to consider Ithwick’s long shadow, and then—?
Well, the sting on the back of his head provided one clue.
But who had hit him? And why? Anthony? Thomas?
A man moved to the front of the tunnel carrying a watering can.
But no—the metal vessel the man carried wasn’t a watering can, it was a smuggler’s lamp, a lamp with a long, thin funnel to keep the light within from being seen from the side—light used to wave in a ship.
Chev lowered his lids, so it would appear he hadn’t awoken. Slowly, he stretched his fingers down toward the binds around his ankles.
“Something’s wrong,” the man called back from the mouth of the tunnel.
Chev recognized Sir Jerold’s voice.
“They should have delivered the prisoner by now,” he continued. “The smugglers must have been intercepted. And if they have—”
“It doesn’t matter. This one is of far more value to me.”
“I don’t know what you plan to do with him,” Sir Jerold said, “but he can’t be worth the three hundred guineas we were promised to free the French captain.”
“Bricon!”Fool.
The momentary satisfaction of having guessed right evaporated when the woman answered in French.
“Do you not recognize Lord Cheverley?”
Dread’s icy fingers seized Cheverley’s throat.
“Lord Cheverley! My God. Don’t think you can ransom him—Anthony will never pay.”
“Non. Il est à moi.”No. He is mine.
Jerold sighed. “Well, he lost his ship, didn’t he? Do what you will. I’ll check for the signal.”
Jerold’s boots crunched on the gravel as he retreated.
The pirate crouched by Cheverley’s side. “Bonjour, mon Jouet.”
Every muscle in Cheverley’s body tensed. Though she was petite, he knew better than to underestimate her.
“Tu m’as manqué.”I have missed you.She sucked in her angled cheeks. “Et moi? Je t’ai manqué?”And me? Have you missed me?
“No,” he answered in English. He’d be dammed if he’d make any of this easy.
“Let me see.” She reached down toward his manhood.
He jerked away. She laughed as she shrugged.
“I do not need to feel you to see you are not properly impressed,” she replied in English. “Do not worry. I will train you again.”
“No.” It was a vow.
He’d risk whatever he must. He would not be kept from his family again.
“Ah, mon Jouet, you know you do not belong here. You belong with me.”
