Page 120 of The Betrothal

“Don’t,” I whispered sharply, hoping it was quiet enough for only him to hear. “It’s too late.”

His fingers fisted against the tabletop and I turned to the men with more bluster than I felt.

“If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen.” I slung my bag over my shoulder. “I’ll be on my way.”

I stormed past them, the feeling of predators at my back entirely unwelcome, the urgent need to leave but to remain somewhere public drove me through the pub.

My bag collided with a patron who grumbled loudly and I threw words of apology over my shoulder as I raced for the door.

Flying out into the street I looked both ways then picked one. I had no idea where I was, one way was no better than the other right now.

Taking long strides, I felt the presence of people following me, peeking backwards I found the three men on my heels. Behind them I thought I saw the light hair and tall build of Christian, but I didn’t pause to confirm.

Turning right, I bumped into someone, the beginnings of an apology formed but died when I looked to see them properly. They were clad in the same clothing as the three men behind me and I sensed when they closed in – entrapping me.

“Miss Blackthorne,” the additional man said. “We are absolutely thrilled to have recovered you safely.” His tone was sneering.

“Get away from me,” I demanded, backing up but bumping into the others.

“You know what, I don’t think we will.” The other men chuckled. “Your fiancé has been worried sick, you know. We’ve been trawling these godforsaken little towns and villages for weeks. And imagine our luck that one of the locals called the tip line we set up.”

“Imagine,” I murmured. The cold realisation tightened around my heart at having no escape routes open to me.

“Now, in we get.”

I looked at him, confused for just a second before a large black van pulled up beside us.

I looked from it to him. A black van, seriously? “You’re joking, right?”

His scowl said he was anything but joking, but he didn’t reply.

I felt a sharp prick in the side of my neck and I clapped my hand over it, staggering, turning to the men behind me.

That was when I saw Christian, his brows drawn in fury, hovering with indecision.

That wasn’t what I paid for. They’d been clear in their terms. They were a removal service; they were not responsible for intervening or withdrawing me from a situation. But right now, Christian looked mighty tempted.

“No!” I called out. In part to these men, but mostly to him.

His lips parted to say something but the world turned to black.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

ISABELLE

Pain.

The first thing my body registered was a lancing pain behind my eyes. I teased them open slightly to find the space around me largely dark, my eyes blurry. The glow of a fire at the far side of the room and a dimmed lamp on a sideboard somewhere illuminated some of this space, but it wasn’t right.

Clamping my eyes closed and willing them to function, I groaned. I reached out, pushing the layers off me. Heavy blankets covered my legs, it was claustrophobic and hot and I didn’t recognise where I was.

I located a sideboard, my fingers closing around a glass. Pulling myself forwards I took a large swig, my throat sore, my stomach turned at the cold liquid.

I was going to be sick.

Lurching upright the pain behind my eyes exploded and I fell back against the pillows, nausea driven back by the shattering headache.

My hands found the pain and I tried to massage it, tried to recall what had happened and how I had got here.