He’d do something about that later, he promised himself. After he’d dealt with Jackson.
He pictured his sisters too. Their husbands would care for them if something happened to him. They would mourn him, but they would be all right. But Alice had nobody she could lean on without it costing her pride. She needed him alive.
“I love Lady Alice,” he said softly. He had never told a woman that. Not his sisters, Hannah and Briar. Jamie wantedthe chance to tell them how much they meant to him, and Alice to her face that she had his heart. Not to these damp boards and empty air.
Jamie grabbed the rope above him and lifted himself, hissing as his shoulders screamed, and tried to change the angle of the rope over the hook. The ceiling beam was old, splintered, and the iron hook hammered into place. If he could saw the rope along the edge of the wood, even one strand at a time, maybe he could free himself.
Moving in small bursts, he swung and sawed, and the rope rasped. Strand by strand, it snapped. Pain sliced through him, but he could do this. Toby and Anthony slid into his head then. His friends, who had been to hell and back with him. Did they know he was missing?
Jamie forced his thoughts anywhere but the pain in his hands and shoulders as he continued to saw on the rope.
He wasn’t sure how long he’d been trying to free himself before he heard a door creak somewhere, followed by the thud of boots on wood. Jackson stepped into view. He then took off his gloves, one finger at a time.
“No point in making an entrance here. No one is looking, Jackson,” Jamie rasped.
Jackson smiled. An evil one that had once set the fear of God into Jamie, but no more. He was no longer the terrified boy he’d once been, or even the man he’d been before he’d met Alice.
“Lord Stafford,” Jackson said lightly. “I told you I’d kill you.”
Jamie noted the slight kink in his swollen nose, and the bruise on his jaw, and smiled himself. “I bet those hurt.”
Jackson’s smile slipped.
“You are at my mercy, Stafford. It would pay you to remember that.
Jamie waited for the fear, but it didn’t come. Alice had given him hope and belief. He kept moving slowly, ignoring the pain.
“Once maybe,” Jamie said calmly,but no more, he vowed silently. “I’m not a child now. But you, you’re still the pathetic man you always were. A man who could not get respect from anyone, so had to resort to hurting boys as they were the only ones you could control.”
Jackson’s face twisted into an angry mask at the taunts, and then smoothed out again.
“I see you’ve been playing with your toys,” Jamie said, nodding to the cuffs hanging from the wall. “Clearly, no woman will come to you willingly.”
The face before him turned smug, and Jamie tensed.
“I understand you and Lady Alice Smythe are close.” He tsked. “Such a shame about her brother, but then he was a weak man.”
“Say her name again, and I’ll take your tongue,” Jamie growled.
He felt sweat drip down his temple as he flexed his fingers. Above, he felt another strand of rope give. Not enough, but something.
“I will have a little fun with Lady Alice when you’re dead. I’ve never bedded a noblewoman.”
He didn’t take the lure Jackson had thrown him, even as rage surged through Jamie.
“You’re a weaselling little nobody, Jackson, and won’t get near her. And if you did, she’d destroy you. Like I said, you’re not brave enough to take on anyone stronger than you, and Lady Alice is definitely that.” Jamie forced himself to laugh at the man. He wanted his rage. Jackson had a terrible temper and lost control easily. If Jamie could get the man to do that, he’d make a mistake. “In fact, I doubt there are many men you can best without a weapon. You’re a coward.”
Jackson roared and ran at him.
Jamie threw his weight backward and then swung forward, savage pain ripping through his shoulders as he moved. He pulled his knees up and then lashed out. His boots caught Jackson in the midriff and slammed him backward into the table. It splintered, dropping him to the floor. The sound of keys chimed as they clanged against the wood.
Jackson made an ugly sound, hands clutched to his stomach as he staggered back to his feet. He pulled a blade from his boot.
“I’ll gut you!”
Jamie laughed. “You? I’d like to see you try. Even with my hands bound, I’ll best you.” He threw himself forward again, this time not to kick but to rub the rope hard across the hook. It rasped as more threads broke, and more pain sang through his body.
Jackson lunged, knife out, eyes narrowed to slits of rage. He slashed for Jamie’s thigh. Jamie twisted. The blade cut his trousers and the top of his skin. Heat ran down his leg.
