He smiled.Maxey.She must have ripped this off and left it for him as a clue. He would have to remember to tell her she’d thought like a great investigator to help him.
Along the path, she had left other small objects for him to notice. The tie from her bonnet, and closer to the docks, he found her bootlace. The clues were going toward the docks. His uncle had a ship. That must be where they took Maxey.
Nash urged the horse faster. He would find his uncle and personally tear the man’s heart out. Matthew had killed too many people, and it was time his power was taken away.
The pink tint on the horizon let him know the sun would make its appearance soon. Nash must sneak on his uncle’s ship before that happened. After he had Maxey safe in his arms, then, and only then, would he put a stop to Matthew’s tyranny.
Amongst the ships docked, Nash recognized the one that had followed them during their travel to Devonshire. Nash ducked behind a crate. Peering through the slats of wood, he noticed a group of men standing near the gangplank, all dressed in the expensive clothing Matthew insisted his men wear, and all drinking out of their own bottle of whiskey.
Nash gritted his teeth. None had a care in the world. They were all protected by Matthew’s powerful hand.
One man clapped another one on the shoulder, and then walked onto the ship. When the second man turned and looked toward town, Nash sucked in a breath.Please, God, no!By all that was holy, what was Nash’s manservant, Peter, doing with Matthew’s men?
Bile rose in Nash’s throat, and his heart broke into tiny pieces. Betrayal’s ugly claws wrapped around him and squeezed tightly.
Peter was the traitor.
No wonder Nash’s uncle was one step behind them the whole time—because Peter knew what Nash was doing.
Fisting his hands, Nash brought them to his pounding head and closed his eyes. How long had his so-called friend been in Matthew’s employ? Had Peter been lying to him all this time?
Breathing slowly in through his nose and out his mouth, he tried to calm his anger, but the more he thought about Peter’s treachery, the more upset he became. He must use this frustration and let it guide him on the ship. His anger would be his weapon—along with his pistol.
Within minutes, all the men who had gathered by the gangplank walked onto the ship. Nash crept in the shadows until he reached the water then swam toward the ship. Every few strokes, he stopped, looked, and strained to listen for any sign of being discovered. His uncle must know Nash would do all he could to save Maxey. Matthew wasn’t the type of man who took chances. But neither was Nash.
This meant he needed to be more cautious.
*
Maxey’s head poundedso hard it threatened to split her skull apart.What in the blazes happened?Since it hurt too much to open her eyes, she tried lifting her hand to her face, but found it useless. Her limbs had become heavy weights.
Through the intense pain throbbing through every inch of her body, she struggled to see. A familiar scent hung in the air and tickled her nose, but she couldn’t remember what it could be. Her body rested upon something soft, but for the life of her, she didn’t recall her mother’s bed being this uncomfortable.
Then her memory cleared, and she remembered being hit over the head. Three men had forced her out of the house of ill repute while two others beat her mother. Before they left, they set fire to Nora’s place. In her groggy state, Maxey had still remembered to leave scraps of clothing along the way for Nash to see. She had no doubt he would find her.
The movement of her surroundings rolled like waves, just as it had when she sailed with Nash. Her stomach lurched, and she peeled her eyes open. They were on a ship! How long had they been sailing?
The bright light straining her blurred vision made her squint. She mouthed Nash’s name, but her voice croaked. Cotton dryness lodged in her throat, and she swallowed. “Nash?”
A deep, unfamiliar, eerie chuckle came from within the room. She shivered. Blinking, she tried to focus and get her bearings. The light from the lamp fell on the man sitting in front of her a few feet away. He had dark hair like Nash’s, but this man’s formal attire was far different than his.
He sat as regal as any prince. Ribbons and gold medals were pinned across the dark suit covering his broad chest. His arm rested on the table next to him as he drummed his fingers on the hard wood. Diamonds from his rings glittered in the light.
“Who…” She swallowed again. “Who are you?” She tried to move her hands, but the rope tied around her wrists burned her skin. She tested her feet, and they too were bound. “Why am I tied?”
He chuckled again, and the evil sound grated on her nerves.
“You are very lovely, Miss Littleton. Now I see why Nash is so enamored with you. Not only are you beautiful, but you have a wild spirit most men would love to tame.”
She clenched her jaw. This must be Nash’s dominant uncle. He even dressed fancier than the King of England, for heaven’s sake. “Who are you, and what did you do with Nash?”
He leaned forward, his face coming into view. She sucked in a breath. He did resemble Nash quite a bit. Although Matthew had the same dark, wavy hair, streaks of silver blended with the color around his ears. But he had the same strong jaw, covered by a trimmed goatee that enhanced his powerful appearance.
“Who am I?” he asked. Leaning back, he linked his fingers across his stomach. “I may be your worst terror if you do not cooperate with me.” He narrowed his eyes on her, and chills ran up her spine.
“What do you want?” She tried not to let her voice waver or her body shake. But inside, her nerves rolled quicker than the waves outside the ship.
A low chuckle rumbled through his chest as he shook his head. “For now, I only require your company. Eventually, Nash will come to rescue you, and I will allow it. But in the end, he will give me what I desire most.”
