Seduce Me (6 page)

From his perch, Fielding watched the two men build a makeshift camp, complete with a fire and ratty blankets to lie upon.
Once the woman came to, her arms would ache fiercely from being shackled in that position, but the knot on her head would
no doubt hurt worse. She was so small, her body frail and limp. He forced his eyes back toward the men. Fielding kept his
post for another hour, waiting for the duo to settle in for the night.

Thatcher was unable leave the box alone, though. He went back and forth, picking it up to further examine it, then setting
it back down and trying to fall asleep. Once more he picked up the box and held it close to his face. He nudged Waters with
his foot.

“Waters,” he whispered.

The other man sat bolt upright. “What?”

“Listen. Do you hear that? Do you hear the voices?”

“Only your voice,” he said groggily.

“Here, listen.” Thatcher held the box out to the other man, who, in turn, took it and held it up to his ear.

A moment later Waters threw the box away from him as he sat up abruptly. Thatcher caught the box before it fell to the ground.

“You heard it, didn’t you?” Thatcher said.

“Bloody ’ell,” Waters said. “I heard my name.”

Thatcher dug into his pocket and pulled out the woman’s necklace. The pendant caught the fire’s glow and cast flecks of light
around them.

“What are you doing?” Waters asked.

“Opening it.”

Thatcher pressed the metal pendant against the box, and a latch audibly released. Even from a distance, Fielding could hear
it. He shook his head, certain he must have been mistaken. His own mind must be playing tricks on him from lying still so
long.

In one swift movement Thatcher popped open the lid. Both men sat for a moment looking around them, presumably waiting for
the terrors to be unleashed upon them, but nothing happened.

Fielding rolled his eyes. Damned superstitions.

“There’s nothing in here,” Thatcher said.

“Let me see,” Waters said. “What’s that on the bottom?”

Thatcher dug his hand in, perhaps searching for hidden compartments, then pulled his hand back. “Nothing.”

“What’s that on your wrist?” Waters asked.

Thatcher held his arm up to the firelight, and a thin band of gold shimmered against his dirty flesh.

“A treasure,” Waters said. “Give me the box.” He too put his hand in the box and pulled back with a band of gold on his wrist
as well.

They eyed their matching bands for several moments. Thatcher laughed. “Why, that’s a pretty find. But we’d better take them
off. Don’t want to damage them before we can get the box back to the Raven.” Then Thatcher tried to remove his bracelet. “It
won’t come off,” he growled.

Waters attempted to remove his own, and his bracelet would not budge either.

“What do we do?” Waters asked, his voice rising a notch.

“We’ll get them off tomorrow,” Thatcher said. “The Raven will help.”

“We can’t tell the Raven. He’ll kill us for trying to steal from him.”

“I can make him understand,” Thatcher assured him. “Now go back to sleep.”

Fools
.

The Raven would never understand. And he didn’t deal lightly with those who betrayed him.

Fielding wouldn’t have to wait much longer. He needed them to doze off for only a little while before they’d be too bleary-headed
to fight him. He checked his waistband for the pistol and found it snugly in place. Ten minutes later Thatcher’s loud snores
echoed through the dungeon.

Fielding waited a little longer before he crept down from his ledge and into their makeshift camp. Snagging Thatcher’s bag
with the box hidden inside proved easy enough, as was snuffing out their lanterns, leaving only the remnants of their fire
as light. But as Fielding turned to go, he saw her.

Her frail body hung limply from the manacles, and her brown hair was matted with dirt and a small patch of blood. Her nightdress
was covered in Thatcher’s muddy handprints.

Blast it all
.

There was no way Fielding could leave her here. He glanced over his shoulder. The two men were still sleeping, so he slowly
moved to stand in front of the woman. He tightened the cinch on the bag to ensure it was secure over his shoulder before placing
one hand firmly against her mouth. Her eyes flew open, but his hand muffled the sound she made.

He shook his head. “Be quiet,” he whispered. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m going to get you out of here. Nod if you understand.”

Her wide eyes rounded, but she nodded nonetheless.

“If I move my hand away from your mouth, do you promise not to scream?”

She nodded fervently.

He waited a few heartbeats, then he slowly took his hand away.

“Please hurry,” she urged.

Reaching up, he worked on the right brace, nudging the pin out of its confines. The rusted metal scraped and groaned as it
moved, but it eventually gave way and he was able to remove her hand. Being hung from the wall as long as she’d been, her
movements would be unsteady and sluggish. He couldn’t afford to be slowed by her. As she lowered her arm, she winced, confirming
his suspicions.

The men stirred. Fielding and the woman froze, waiting to see if either man awoke, but the snoring continued.

He moved to remove the other pin, but unlike its counterpart, this one would not budge.

“He had trouble with that one,” she whispered.

Fielding nodded and continued trying to work the pin out, but it remained lodged firmly in place. If he’d had a sword he could
have snapped the chain in half, but seeing as he wasn’t in the habit of carrying swords around with him, that wasn’t an option.
There was something he could do, although it would most certainly wake Waters and Thatcher. He didn’t even know this woman,
and already she was more trouble than he’d wager she was worth.

But damn it all, he couldn’t leave her.

With brusque motions, he began to run his hands along the skin of her arms, massaging the tender flesh there.

She gasped. “What are you doing?” she asked in a whispered hiss.

“Kneading your muscles.”

“Well, I insist you stop at once. It’s most improper! Furthermore, I can do it myself once you release me.”

“Once I release you,” he explained with forced patience, “we are going to have to move quickly. A cramped muscle could mean
the difference between life and death.” He paused to meet her gaze. “Understand?”

Her eyes were wide in the darkness, her breath coming in nervous pants, but she nodded.

He returned to the task at hand, working on her arms first and then turning his attention to her legs, which were longer than
he expected for a woman of her diminutive height and surprisingly sturdy. Supporting her feet, he bent first one knee and
then the other, massaging the muscles of her calves and thighs as he did so. Her sinewy flesh convulsed beneath his touch.

He worked quickly since there was no time to waste. But even so, he couldn’t help noticing her generous curves and the enticing
flesh beneath his hands. His body leaped in response, though he tried to stifle his reaction. Much more of this, and she wouldn’t
be the only one moving slowly.

“I believe, sir, that my muscles are quite relaxed now.” Her tone was both husky and tense, whether from the situation or
his ministrations, he couldn’t tell.

Fielding reached into his boot and withdrew a dagger. He handed it to the woman. “If they come after you, do not hesitate
to use this, do you understand?”

She looked down at the knife in her free hand and nodded, but he was uncertain as to whether or not she could actually follow
through with such a task. There was no room for error at the moment, else he and the woman would both find themselves prisoners
of the Raven.

“Do not bother slashing at their arms. Go straight for their bellies, where you’ll do the most damage,” he instructed.

She shuddered but nodded.

He stepped away from her and aimed his pistol at the top of the chain.

“Are you mad?” she hissed.

He ignored her and took the shot. It did the trick and the chain broke free, but the ricochet rang throughout the room and
Thatcher was on his feet in a matter of seconds. Fielding had already grabbed the girl, though, and they were making their
way up the stairs.

“Where do you think you’re going, Grey?” Thatcher snarled. The man searched for his gun, but Fielding had already removed
it. Just as he’d also disabled their carriage outside and sent their horses running.

“Thatcher, it’s not your style to abduct unsuspecting women.” He slid another bullet into his pistol and leveled it at the
men.

Thatcher took a step toward them but stumbled in the darkness. “Grey, you and I both know you’re no different than us, despite
that title of yours.”

Waters felt around the camp, crawling on his knees, searching under their bedding, no doubt also looking for a weapon.

“Ah,” Fielding said, “but there is one difference. I have the box and the girl.”

Thatcher snarled. “Give us the box.” He took another step forward. “We’ll split our share of the money with you.”

“Don’t make another move, or I will shoot you,” Fielding said as they backed their way up the stairs. “We’ll be leaving now.”
And with that, they turned and ran.

Fielding dragged the woman behind him, knowing that her slippered feet were taking a beating against the cracked stone, but
that wasn’t his concern. Carrying her would only slow them down, and he could already hear the men scrambling after them.

He and the woman reached the outside, and the chilled night air slapped at them. With one arm, he jumped onto his horse, then
pulled the woman up in front of him. Facing him, actually, which proved a bit awkward, but there was no time to rectify it.
He kicked his horse into action, and they rode off just as Thatcher and Waters appeared outside the ruins.

“Thank you for rescuing me,” she said breathlessly.

It was hard not to look at her face when she spoke to him, as she was sitting directly in front of him. And the moon hanging
above illuminated her perfectly. She was close enough for him to see the freckles that splattered across her nose and her
large, thickly lashed, river-green eyes. Her hair smelled of lilac, despite the mud covering her.

He merely nodded and returned his attention to the landscape before them.

“Won’t they come after us?” she asked.

“Probably.” Her legs brushed against his, and he looked down—milky white thighs straddled his own. He couldn’t help remembering
how those thighs had felt beneath his hands. Firm yet pliant. His senses stirred as his body once again responded to hers.
Damn it all.

He could only imagine her indignation if she happened to notice his growing erection. He’d heard more than enough of her prattling
earlier to know she was a well-bred lady. A prim one at that, despite the fact that her body was obviously made for sin.

They couldn’t very well ride back to London this way. It was more than twelve hours away, and if she noticed his reaction,
chatterer that she was, she’d no doubt preach to him the whole way about sins of the flesh or some such nonsense. The ride
would be interminable even if his body didn’t have a mind of its own.

They needed to either take the train or find a coach. He eyed her mud-splattered nightgown. Clearly they couldn’t take the
train and avoid being seen, even with a private car. He didn’t even know who this woman was. The last thing he needed was
some angry papa coming after him demanding Fielding marry the girl. That left finding a carriage. He’d seen a sign for a carriage
house on his way to the ruins.

As he turned his horse down the appropriate road, he detected the sound of pounding hooves behind them. He did his best to
isolate the noise, to be certain of what he heard. Definitely horses coming their way.

“Hold on tight,” he told the woman.

“Why?”

“Because we’re being followed.”

E
sme wrapped her arms around the man’s torso and did as he bade. He turned the horse so abruptly she was certain they’d all
fall to the ground, but the steed kept his footing. They cut into a dense patch of trees. Branches and leaves swatted at her
bare legs as they made their way deeper into the forest.

He slowed the horse to a trot, then stopped him altogether. “Shhh,” he told her.

She could see only his face as they waited in the trees for their pursuers to catch up, and his expression told her nothing.
The moments stretched by, and Esme’s own labored breathing and pounding heart roared in her ears so loudly she was almost
certain their hiding place would be discovered. The man’s hands tightened on the reins. Those same hands that had caressed
her body only moments before. Her cheeks flamed as an unfamiliar rush of heat spread through her.

The hooves got closer and closer, slamming against the dirt road. The two horsemen slowed to a trot.

“I don’t see ’em,” Waters said.

Esme couldn’t see the road, but she could gauge how close the men were by the dark expression on her rescuer’s face. A muscle
in his jaw ticked, but he made no movement. She wasn’t even certain he blinked.