Given her current situation, she wasn’t sure how much she would be able to do without Adrian finding out about everything she’d been involved in, but she still asked, “How?”
“There’s only two ways. We can either kill him or buy my freedom.”
She stared at him, not seeing him as much as the men whose lives she’d claimed. One with a stab to the stomach, the other with a stab to the throat. It had taken her hours to scrub herself clean afterward when no amount of washing could truly erase the stains from her conscience. Her only justification since was the choice she’d been given between them and her.
It had been a fight for survival, but walking into Wycliff’s lair and shooting him dead would be different.
Staring Isak in the eye, she gave her head a slow shake. “I’m not an executioner.”
“Then we’ll have to give him five hundred and seventeen pounds.”
She actually laughed. “Is he out of his mind?”
“That’s what I owe him for food and lodging and the clothes he’s provided.”
There was no way in hell any of those things amounted to such a large sum. Wycliff was just being greedy. Or deliberately difficult. Either way, it didn’tmatter when her monthly allowance, while substantial, was only a fraction of what he demanded.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t have that kind of money. It would take me at least three months to acquire, provided I save every penny.”
“Then kill him. Please. I…” Isak’s voice finally broke, producing a croak. “I won’t survive there much longer.”
“You could run away,” she suggested, a little surprised he’d not done so already.
A snort conveying pure hopelessness echoed beneath the stone archway. “I’ll be gutted alive and tossed in the Thames if he catches me.”
“Surely not.” Wycliff might be a bastard, but she didn’t think him a murderous one.
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Isak informed her grimly, the stark comment freezing the blood in her veins. “Others have tried, only for them to turn up dead. Wycliff won’t stand for betrayal. As it is, my punishment’s far from over. He’s already said he’ll put me to work in one of his brothels.”
Revulsion erupted inside her, burning through her so fast she recoiled. “But you’re…you’re just a child.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Isak sniffed. “I’ll kill myself before I submit to something like that. Thought I’d check with you first though. See if you’re willing to help.”
She stared at him, nearly paralyzed by the horror she now envisioned for him if she walked away. And yet, she could not bring herself to bloody her hands once more. It wasn’t right. Then again, neither was standing by while Wycliff turned Isak into a whore.
“It’s not a question of willingness,” she murmured, trying to think of another solution.
“I can pay you with information.” Voices drifted toward them from one of the streets and he paused, waited until they’d faded before he said, “It’s about your husband. Something you might find useful.”
Her hand caught his arm, loosening slightly as soon as he winced. She leaned in. “Tell me.”
“Promise to help me escape Wycliff’s clutches.”
Samantha took a deep breath. Truth was, she’d already made up her mind when he’d mentioned the chance of him being gutted. “I give you my word that I’ll do so.”
“Swear it.”
“Of course.”
He closed his eyes briefly, his features softening with what was surely relief. A sigh followed and then his eyes snared her, the intensity there surprising in someone so young. “He knows about you.”
A shudder went through her. “What do you mean?”
She already knew, but she asked the question anyway.
“We were seen the last time we met. A gruff fellow with dark brown hair and icy-blue eyes caught up with me after. Threatened to have me transported unless I told him what I was doing with you. I tried to lie but he saw straight through me. Locked me in the boot of his carriage and drove me out to a field somewhere. I nearly pissed myself when he hauled me back out and pressed a pistol to my head.”
Bloody Murry.
