Kitabı oku: «The Abducted Heiress», sayfa 3

She stared at Jakob, drained of all emotion.

He stroked a matted strand of hair gently behind her shoulder and smiled at her. He had a very attractive smile for a fiend—even though his face was black with soot and his eyes were red. His hair had lost its angelic lustre. It was stringy with sweat and grime.

Images of the long-ago siege of Larksmere House receded from Desire’s mind. She focussed on the immediate past instead. She’d thought about Jakob often since Saturday. Confused by the conflicting emotions he aroused in her. She’d been a little captivated by him when he’d first appeared on her roof—and then he’d destroyed all her ridiculous illusions. She’d allowed herself to be deceived by his comely appearance. The fire-grime that now covered him gave a much clearer indication of his true character. Except, of course, that he’d just saved her from being roasted alive.

‘What does the key open?’ he asked, his voice soft, almost teasing. ‘Your jewellery case?’

‘The river-gate!’ she exclaimed indignantly.

The iron key was large and ugly. It opened the gate in the wall that separated the edge of her property from the Thames. Even the keys to the sturdy locks on her treasure chest were more elegant. Besides, did he really think she was so vain and foolish that she would put jewels before her own safety?

‘Good girl.’ He smiled and slipped the key out of her fingers before she’d realised his intent, and stood up.

‘You scurvy, double-dealing—’

‘Language, my lady,’ he chided her, laughing gently. ‘No, don’t get up,’ he added, as she seized the edges of the cistern. ‘We aren’t leaving just yet.’

‘We?’ She stared at him warily, still clutching the sides of the water cistern.

‘I didn’t expect you to be here,’ he informed her, shrugging out of his doublet. ‘Not once I’d discovered the house was deserted. I only came on to the roof to get a better look at the fire. To see how far it extends. Lucky for you I did.’

‘Why?’ Desire asked warily. ‘The house isn’t deserted,’ she added. ‘There are porters guarding the gate—aren’t there?’

Jakob grinned. ‘Easily evaded, my lady,’ he said, and stripped off his shirt.

Desire’s eyes widened at the breadth of muscled chest and lean, hard-ridged stomach his actions revealed. Then, as the likely motive for his disrobing dawned on her, she tried to surge out of the water.

‘Sit.’ He put his hand on her shoulder and easily shoved her back under the surface. ‘You’re safer there till we get off this damned fire-trap.’

‘Why are you—?’

‘Not for the reason you think,’ he retorted, casting a quick glance towards the advancing flames.

The sky above them was thick with roiling smoke. Desire’s throat was raw. She could tell from the hoarseness in Jakob’s voice that he was also suffering the effects of the smoke. Amidst the noise of the fire and the wind she heard something that sounded like an explosion.

‘They’re using gunpowder in Fleet Street,’ Jakob explained. ‘Blowing up houses to make a fire break. But unless the wind drops…’

He gripped his shirt tightly and jerked his hands apart. The fine linen ripped and. Desire watched in bewilderment as he tore his shirt into several pieces.

‘Why are you doing that?’ she asked.

‘Just a precaution, my lady,’ he replied, smiling in a way that she only belatedly realised was deeply suspicious.

In one smooth movement, he seized her wrists and efficiently tied them together with a piece of ragged linen.

Desire struggled valiantly. Water splashed everywhere but, but in the confines of the cistern, she had little chance to evade him.

She cursed him freely, anger temporarily displacing the underlying fear she continued to feel in his presence.

‘You mangy, flea-ridden, thieving, ill-begotten cur!’ she raged, just before he pushed one of the rags in her mouth.

He tied the strip of linen securely behind her head. Then he smiled at her.

She blinked water out of her eyes and glared at him over the gag.

‘Time to go,’ he said, and hauled her out of the cistern.

Instantly she swung up her bound hands in an attempt to hit him in the face.

He barely managed to dodge the blow as her hands rasped across the stubble on his chin. He swore briefly and concisely, and threw her over his naked shoulder.

Desire kicked viciously and tried to pound her fists against any part of his anatomy that she could reach. His grip on her tightened until it was painful as he went across the roof and down the stairs that led to a side entrance. From there he had only to run through the gardens behind the house to reach the river-gate.

Desire stopped struggling. He marginally relaxed his grip, but he didn’t slow down. Instead of trying to hit him, Desire concentrated on getting rid of the gag. If she could only attract the attention of her watchmen…

But it wasn’t easy when Jakob was jolting her along upside-down through the neatly clipped box hedges. By the time they’d reached the boathouse she’d only just managed to free her mouth, painfully pulling out several strands of her hair that had been caught in the knot as she did so.

Jakob laid her on the ground and began to drag up her charred, water-soaked skirts. Desire fought desperately, flailing at him with her clubbed fists, whimpering with terror. She had no breath to scream for help.

He threw himself over her, finally containing her struggles with the weight of his large body.

‘Stop fighting, you vixen,’ he said, through gritted teeth. ‘I’m only trying to find out if your legs are burnt.’

‘You lecher!’

‘I should have left you to roast!’

‘Hell-spawn.’

‘Hell-cat.’

For a few moments they both lay still, breathing heavily. Reason slowly replaced the terrifying images of rape that had filled Desire’s mind. She didn’t trust Jakob, but so far he hadn’t actually hurt her.

‘My legs aren’t burnt,’ she said frigidly

She shoved ineffectually at the solid bulk of his torso. The weight of his hard body pinning her to the ground was profoundly disturbing. She wasn’t used to intimate physical contact with any human being—much less with a large, powerful man naked to the waist. She felt trapped and frightened—and furious at her sense of helplessness.

‘You’re too upset to know if they are,’ he retorted, easing himself cautiously away from her.

‘I’m not stupid!’ she snapped. ‘I’d know if my own legs were burnt.’

‘I’ve seen men wounded in battle who didn’t even know their legs had been cut off!’ Jakob countered.

‘Battle…? Are you claiming to be a soldier?’ Desire jabbed her knuckles against the ridges of his stomach, ineffectually trying to increase the distance between them.

Jakob winced. ‘Until lately I was an officer in the Swedish army,’ he growled.

‘An officer?’ she scoffed. ‘A cowardly deserter more like. Or a camp-following scavenger who steals from wounded me—’

He clamped one large hand over her mouth.

‘Var tyst! We’d have been on our way by now if you weren’t such a wildcat.’

‘Way? Where?’ Desire demanded, as soon as he took his hand away.

Jakob didn’t reply. Instead he moved so suddenly she was left gasping with shock. One minute he was lying half on top of her, the next he was straddling her hips, his back towards her head as he doggedly pulled up her skirts.

Outraged, Desire hammered his broad shoulders with her bound fists. His naked flesh was hard and unyielding. Only his occasional grunt indicated he wasn’t entirely immune to her assault. Desire kicked wildly, trying to clout him in the face with her knees.

With a muttered curse he finally managed to contain her struggles. Half-blinded by her hair, panting with her exertions, Desire endured the insufferable indignity of having her captor satisfy himself that her lower limbs were only minimally scorched.

‘All this material must have protected you,’ he announced at last, ‘your chemise isn’t even singed. I don’t think you’re much damaged.’

‘That’s what I said!’ Desire was beside herself with rage. ‘How dare you…’

He jumped off her, springing aside just in time to avoid a well-aimed blow to his groin as she scythed her hands upwards.

He grabbed her joined fists, pulling her to her feet in one smoothly continuous movement.

‘I should have trussed you tighter!’ he declared in exasperation.

‘You oaf! I’m a lady!’ Desire was incensed at his impertinent suggestion.

‘Not like any I ever met before.’ He dragged her along behind him. ‘You’d have made this a lot easier on both of us if you’d had the good sense to swoon when you first saw me.’

‘I never swoon.’

‘More’s the pity.’

Jakob found some rope in the boathouse and tied it around Desire’s knees, over her blackened, dirty wet skirts.

‘You’ll hang,’ she taunted him, from her undignified position on the ground. ‘At Tyburn, you’ll hang for this.’

Jakob merely grunted. Now that he was no longer hampered by Desire’s stubborn resistance he made short work of getting the small rowing boat on to the Thames and Desire into the boat. He even locked the gate, thoughtfully safeguarding the house from river-borne looters. He dropped the key on Desire’s lap, pushed the boat away from the river stairs and began to row upstream.

Desire stared at him in baffled fury, then twisted around to look at the burning city behind her. The boat rocked precariously in the waves stirred up by the wind and the other crafts that thronged the river. Desire was stunned by the scenes of devastation all around her.

The Thames was full of people escaping the inferno. Boats were piled high with belongings. She could hear a woman sobbing, children screaming…

She abandoned her half-formed plan to shout for help. Amidst this chaos her cries would either go completely unnoticed or would be ignored in the general pandemonium.

She strained to see one last glimpse of her home as Jakob rowed steadily upriver. When they were well beyond the outskirts of London she turned to face him, noticing at once the familiarity with which he handled the oars. His naked torso glistened from his exertions. There was a light dusting of golden curls on his hard-muscled chest, but Desire was sure that beneath the sooty grime that covered him his skin was smooth and blemish free.

For the first time since he’d appeared on her roof she had an opportunity to reflect on her situation. It wasn’t good. She was bound hand and foot in the power of a man who should have been languishing in Newgate, awaiting his trial. Not only that, none of her household even knew she was missing. There would be no hue and cry for her until it was far too late. She bit her lip, wishing she’d had the good sense to leave with Arscott in the barge that morning. But it was too late to repine over her decision now.

Her gaze narrowed on Jakob. He was a hardy rogue. What did he want with her, now that the man he’d served was dead?

‘Are you to be my bridegroom now?’ she demanded.

‘No.’

She stared at him, confounded by his brief reply. ‘Arscott shot the other one,’ she reminded him.

Jakob grinned briefly, but there was no amusement in his eyes.

‘As you say,’ he agreed. ‘I value my continued good health too much to risk a similar fate. Is that—’ he timed the rhythm of his words to fit easily into that of the oars ‘—how you’ve managed to remain unwed so long? Your steward shoots all your hopeful suitors?’

‘What? No, of course not!’ Desire frowned at him. ‘What do you want then? Ransom? Am I to be your hostage?’

She thought of the chest full of money Arscott had taken away with him.

‘No,’ said Jakob.

‘Then why do you want me?’ she asked, bewildered.

‘I don’t want you,’ he replied curtly.

Desire caught her breath. His sharp response cut straight through her defences, hurting her where she was most vulnerable. She knew full well that her most attractive feature was her inheritance—but it was a long time since she’d been reminded of that quite so brutally. It didn’t matter that Jakob was a brigand who’d just escaped from prison. He was still a handsome man who had no doubt enjoyed many beautiful women. His sharp rejection was deeply wounding.

Shamed and humiliated, she bent her head to gaze hazily at her bound hands. For the first time since her ordeal began she felt tears pricking her eyes. She was determined not to cry. She turned her face into her shoulder in an instinctive effort to hide her scarred cheek from her abductor.

Jakob saw the moment the fight left Desire. It baffled him. One minute she was matching him point for point, the next she hunched her shoulders and turned her head away from him.

It was only when he realised she was trying to conceal her scars that he guessed why his brief comment had wounded her so severely. He muttered a soft curse. It hadn’t occurred to him she’d interpret his barely considered words as a rejection. If anything, he’d intended them to be comforting—a reassurance that he had no intention of raping her.

He’d been surprised by her scars the first time he’d seen her, but now he barely noticed them. From the moment she’d held the pistol on him, her beautiful brown eyes blazing with anger, he’d been far more impressed by her fiery personality. Even after such a brief acquaintance he knew her to be brave and resolute. He didn’t understand why she’d been alone on the roof of Godwin House—but he suspected it had been by her own choice. She’d already demonstrated she wasn’t the kind of person who fled in panic from danger.

He was sorry he’d inadvertently hurt her, but he was irritated with her for being ashamed of her scars. She ought to hold her head up proudly and damn him for his impudence—not cringe from him like a mistreated puppy. Somewhat to his surprise, he realised he was also angry with whoever had taught her to feel that shame.

He gritted his teeth with annoyance and pain. Desire had escaped lightly from the fire in her petticoats, but both of Jakob’s hands were blistered and sore from his efforts to quench the flames. Now every pull on the oars caused him intense discomfort. He wasn’t in the mood to ease Desire’s distress with gentle words.

‘So why did your murderous rabble of a household desert you?’ he asked, and waited with interest to see how she would respond to his wantonly insulting question.

Chapter Three

It took a few seconds for the full import of Jakob’s words to dawn on Desire. As soon as it did her head reared up, her eyes hot with indignation.

‘They didn’t desert me!’ she declared fiercely. ‘And they aren’t a murderous rabble—’

‘They were going to lynch me!’

‘Only because they were shocked and frightened by what happened.’ Desire pushed a strand of wet hair out of her face with her bound hands and glared at him. ‘Abducting helpless females might be all in a day’s work for you, but they were horrified. They’re all better men than you’ll ever be. Any one of them would make three of you!’

‘I didn’t notice they were that fat,’ Jakob retorted, pleased with the success of his ruse. Desire had completely forgotten to hide her scarred cheek.

‘I wasn’t referring to your great hulking bulk!’ she shot back. ‘I was talking about character…courage…integrity. None of them would mistreat a lady.’

‘Because, in their dotage, they can’t remember what a woman is for!’ Jakob had noticed that, with the exception of the steward and a couple of young porters, nearly all the men who’d rushed to Desire’s rescue on the roof had been well over fifty.

‘Because they are honourable!’ Desire snapped.

‘So where are these honourable, creaking gallants in your hour of need?’ Jakob winced slightly and shifted his grip on the oars.

To his relief the tide was finally on the turn. Until now, if he’d stopped rowing, the current would inexorably have carried the small boat back down the Thames towards the burning city.

‘Taking the contents of the house to safety!’ Desire retorted.

Jakob grinned, despite his discomfort. ‘You mean they were more interested in rescuing the virginals than the virgin herself?’ he countered.

Desire gasped with offended dignity at his inflammatory question. Despite the fact that her feet and hands were still tied up, she tried to kick Jakob. Without her hands to stabilise her, she lost her balance on the wooden seat. She fell sideways, then slid ignominiously into the bottom of the boat. The key to the river-gate fell onto the boards beside her.

The little craft rocked alarmingly for several seconds before Jakob managed to restore equilibrium.

‘För bövelen, woman! Are you trying to drown us both!’ he shouted, exasperated.

‘I hope you drown,’ she shouted back, undaunted, from where she was huddled in the shallow puddle of dirty water that slopped over the boards.

‘For God’s sake!’ He reached down to help her up. As soon as he touched her she jerked away, once more rocking the boat. ‘I’ll leave you there if you do that again,’ he warned her.

‘If you untie me, I could get up by myself,’ she said mutinously.

‘If I untie you, you’ll no doubt take a lump out of my skull with an oar,’ he said through gritted teeth.

She sniffed inelegantly, but otherwise didn’t deign to reply.

Jakob sighed, wondering how the devil he’d managed to get himself into such an absurd situation. His plan to provoke her out of her sad mood had worked only too well.

‘If I untie you, will you give me your parole?’ he asked.

‘No.’

‘Stubborn wench.’ He rested for a minute. There were dark bloodstains on the oars, and the palms of his hands were exquisitely painful. ‘Why did your men leave you behind?’ he asked.

‘They didn’t know they did.’ Desire lifted her head clear of the dirty wet planks. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so uncomfortable, but she was determined not to beg.

‘How did they manage to miss you? Did you hide behind the potted orange trees?’ Jakob asked.

Desire was pleased to note that, in addition to his obvious exasperation, he also sounded somewhat harried. She found that minor revelation very gratifying. It made the impossibly handsome, physically overwhelming vagabond a little less intimidating.

‘Arscott took the barge, Benjamin was in charge of the coaches,’ she explained. ‘They both thought I was with the other one.’

‘Why didn’t you leave when you could?’

‘I don’t know,’ she admitted. ‘It’s my home. Do you think—?’ She broke off. ‘Do you think it burned?’ she asked, hating the quiver in her voice, and the humiliating awareness that she was asking her abductor for reassurance.

‘I don’t know, my lady,’ he replied, his tone gentler than usual. ‘The wind has started to drop. Without the wind to drive it on, the fire may not have spread as far as the Strand.’

This time, when he reached towards her, she let him lift her back on to the seat. As he did so she saw the state of his hands.

She gasped with shock at the painful mess.

‘What happened to them?’

‘It’s not important.’ He took up the oars again. She saw the slight flinch in his eyes, but otherwise his face remained impassive as he continued to row smoothly upriver.

‘You halfwit!’ Desire wasn’t impressed by his stoicism.

She stared at him in confusion for a few moments while she tried to work out how he’d been hurt. At last a possibility suggested itself to her.

‘Were you hurt when you saved me from burning…on the roof?’ she demanded.

He nodded fractionally, his jaw set with determination.

She considered the situation in silence for a few more seconds.

‘Untie me,’ she ordered at last.

He raised one sceptical eyebrow, his expression clearly indicating he wasn’t about to take such a foolhardy risk, and rowed steadily onwards.

‘Numskull! If you untie me, we can wrap the linen round your hands,’ she pointed out. ‘It will protect them from the oars.’

Jakob rested again, apparently considering her suggestion. Now that the tide had fully turned the boat continued to drift upstream, even without his efforts to propel it.

‘You were hurt saving my life,’ Desire said stiffly. ‘I won’t give you my parole, but you can trust me not to…attack you…while we’re in the boat. Where are we going?’ she added, with belated curiosity.

He smiled faintly as he began to unravel the knots at her wrists. ‘Putney,’ he replied.

‘Oh.’ Desire smoothed out the creased linen as she absorbed that information. ‘Give me your hand,’ she instructed Jakob.

He did so, and she wrapped the strip of material carefully around his palm and fingers. She bit her lip as she saw how sore his hands were. She didn’t think the flames had scorched him very badly. But he’d had a few blisters from the fire and rowing had rubbed them raw. He must have been in considerable pain ever since they’d left Godwin House, but he’d never complained—or blamed her because he’d been hurt saving her.

‘No, wait,’ she said, when he moved to pick up the oars again. ‘We can use this to wrap the other one.’ She untied the gag still hanging around her neck and used it to bandage his other hand, touching his sore fingers gently.

‘Thank you,’ he said.

She looked up—straight into his eyes. She’d leant towards him to tend his hands. Their faces were only a few inches apart. His blue eyes were startlingly vivid in his soot-grimed face. His quiet gaze was steady, and unexpectedly gentle.

He didn’t look like a monster. He looked like a pain-weary man who was doing what he had to do without fuss. She felt guilty that she’d taken so long to notice his discomfort. She should have tended to his hands sooner.

The direction of her thoughts disconcerted her. She swayed away from him, annoyed with herself. He had abducted her, very forcibly, from her home. He didn’t deserve her sympathy.

‘Why are we going to Putney?’ she asked.

‘Because it’s convenient. Reasonably convenient,’ he said as he plied the oars again. ‘My hands feel much better,’ he added.

Desire nodded an acknowledgement to his comment, her thoughts distracted. Now she knew their destination, she experienced a shiver of apprehension over what awaited her there.

‘Are you going to…going to give me to someone else, when we get there?’ she asked cautiously.

‘No.’ Jakob cast her a swift glance. ‘I was planning to feed you,’ he said.

‘Feed me!’ Desire was astounded.

‘Aren’t you hungry?’ he demanded. ‘I am. My plan is to obtain food. Clean water. And clothes,’ he added as an obvious afterthought. ‘For both of us. You may have to make do with the housekeeper’s best. But since you normally dress like a washerwoman, I dare say you won’t mind.’

‘I don’t…only when I’m gardening,’ said Desire, defensively smoothing her disreputable skirt. The scorched outer layers had started to dry, but the material closest to her skin was still horribly wet and clammy.

‘Or fire-watching,’ said Jakob, casting a critical eye over her clothes.

‘Is it your house?’ Desire asked, uncomfortable with discussing her clothes.

She selected her gowns for their hard-wearing practicality. And with a very conscious awareness that vanity did not become her. She was determined never to make a fool of herself in the fancy silks, laces and brocades more suitable for a beautiful woman. But she had no intention of confiding that information to Jakob. When she was talking to him, more especially when she was arguing with him, she often forgot her appearance for minutes at a time—but she knew he would always be aware of it.

‘No,’ he said, breaking into her thoughts. ‘It’s not my house.’

‘Is the owner expecting you?’

Jakob rolled his eyes. ‘Of course he’s expecting me to row half-naked up the Thames to have supper with him, in the company of an ill-tempered baggage—’

‘I am not an ill-tempered baggage! And since I am bound not to hurt you while we are in the boat, you must not insult me,’ she added haughtily. ‘It is not honourable.’

He threw her a grin that contained a large portion of pure devilment. ‘Very well, my lady,’ he agreed.

Then his eyes narrowed slightly as he flexed his fingers around the oars.

‘I think I should row now,’ Desire announced, unable to suppress a wince in sympathy with his. She was sure his hands must feel as if they were on fire.

It annoyed her that she felt beholden to him, but there was no help for it. Since he’d been injured because of her, she was honour bound to take care of his wounds.

‘Have you rowed a boat before?’ he asked.

‘No. But if you can do it, I’m sure I can,’ she retorted. ‘How hard can it be? We must swap places.’ She started to stand up.

‘Sit down!’ he barked.

She did so, out of sheer surprise.

He heaved in an exasperated breath.

‘Sit still, and be quiet,’ he ordered her. ‘How can one woman be so much trouble?’ he asked the world in general.

‘If you didn’t want the trouble—you shouldn’t have abducted me,’ she returned, with spirit.

‘I didn’t abduct you, I rescued you,’ he shot back.

‘Rescued me? I don’t recall any mention of St George tying his lady in knots when he rescued her!’ Desire said energetically.

‘If she was half as much trouble as you, I’ll wager he did,’ said Jakob. ‘No doubt the chroniclers suppressed the information from the tale to protect the lady’s reputation. Or…’ another alternative occurred to him ‘…to avoid discouraging the chivalrous instincts of future generations of gentlemen.’

‘You’re not a gentleman!’

Jakob raised an insufferably arrogant eyebrow in response.

‘You’re a paid bravo who steals women for upstart fortune-hunters!’ Desire accused him.

‘I haven’t made a career of it!’ Jakob huffed out a breath of pure exasperation. ‘If you had any sense, you’d be trying to ingratiate yourself with me—not insult me.’

‘Ingratiate…? I’ve never tried to ingratiate myself with anyone! Ever! I wouldn’t know how!’

Jakob smiled briefly. ‘I can tell.’

Desire glared at him, her indignation fading as it occurred to her how good-tempered her abductor seemed to be. She’d undoubtedly caused him considerable inconvenience—and repeatedly provoked his exasperation—but he’d never responded with anger. She wasn’t fool enough to believe she could have stopped him if he’d tried to hurt or violate her.

He was a puzzle to her.

‘Whose house are we going to?’ she asked.

‘Kilverdale’s,’ he replied.

‘Kilverdale?’ Desire repeated blankly. ‘The Duke?’

Jakob nodded.

Enlightenment crept over Desire in slow, sickening waves of understanding. She stared at Jakob in shock as every piece of the puzzle finally became clear to her.

On the roof, three days’ ago, she’d believed the brute with the pistol had intended her for his own bride. Now she knew better. He’d been stealing her for another man—the Duke of Kilverdale. And when the original plan had failed, Jakob had returned at the first opportunity to complete the task.

What a fool she’d been. Insensibly she’d begun to trust Jakob’s motives—now she knew better. He’d admitted he’d been a soldier. A mercenary, no doubt. He was still selling his loyalty to the highest bidder. She tasted the acid of bitter disappointment as she absorbed her new understanding. No wonder Jakob had saved her from burning and hadn’t hurt her in any other way. He was being paid to deliver undamaged goods to the Duke.

‘How much?’ she croaked.

‘What?’ He looked at her blankly.

‘How much is he paying you for me?’ she demanded.

‘Who?’

‘Kilverdale! How much is he paying you?’ her voice rose angrily.

‘Kilverdale?’ Jakob sounded dumbfounded by her question, but Desire was too upset to notice.

‘I’ll double it,’ she promised him. ‘If you take me to Arscott, I’ll give you twice as much as the Duke is paying you. I swear I can.’

She lurched forward, sinking on to her knees in front of Jakob. The boat rocked as she seized one of his knees, gripping it urgently in her anxiety to make him attend her.

‘I’ll pay you,’ she repeated, staring desperately into his eyes to see if her words were having any effect on him. ‘From my chest. Arscott rescued it from the fire. Take me to him. You’ll be rich. Don’t give me to Kilverdale. Please! Don’t give me to him!’

Her voice cracked on her last words. Panic threatened to overwhelm her.

‘Don’t give me to him,’ she whispered, starting to tremble as the full horror of her situation finally came home to her.

Jakob released the oars, letting the boat drift as he gave all his attention to Desire. He was shaken by the sight of her begging on her knees before him, stunned by her obvious terror. Until now he’d only been aware of her courage, not her fear. Why did Kilverdale’s name reduce her to panic? The Duke had a reputation for being something of a rake, but he wasn’t cruel to his female conquests.

‘I’m not giving you to anyone, älskling,’ Jakob said gently.

She was so close to him, on her knees between his spread legs. He put his hands on her waist, feeling how she trembled. He stroked his bandaged hands reassuringly up and down her sides. Her bodice wasn’t boned and he could feel the supple warmth of her body through the fabric. Her fingers clutched convulsively at his leg. Despite her obvious distress he couldn’t help finding the situation arousing. He knew that wasn’t her intention. He doubted if she was even aware that she was touching him.

Her face was white beneath the grime of the fire, her eyes wide with fear. She stared at him desperately for a few seconds longer, then abruptly closed her eyes and lowered her head. A deep shudder coursed through her body.

He pushed a strand of wet hair behind her ear with sore fingertips. The bandages she’d wrapped around his hands were already soiled and ragged.

‘I’m not giving you to anyone, älskling,’ he repeated softly. ‘No one is going to hurt you. You saved my life on your roof. Now I’m doing my best to protect you from harm. And when you are safely restored to your home, I will be insulted if you open your treasure chest for me.’