Royal's Bride (31 page)

Arousal trickled through her, along with a thread of curiosity. “If it were our wedding night,” she said softly, “what would you do?” Even with his battered eye and the purpling bruise on his jaw, he was the handsomest man she had ever seen.

She moistened her lips and his gaze heated. He took her hand, turned it over and began to trace small circles in her palm. “First, I would remove your wedding garments, one piece at a time.”

A little tingle went through her, radiating from her palm.

“I would take my time undressing you, admiring your beautiful body. Once I had you naked, I would kiss you all over, kiss you in places that would make us both tremble.”

Her mouth went dry. They might not live long enough to have a wedding night. She wanted to experience it now.

“What else would you do?” she asked almost too softly to hear.

His eyes darkened. The gold in them seemed to glitter. His hand moved over the bodice of her gown, cupped the fullness and squeezed gently. “I would take each of your lovely breasts into my mouth and I would suckle you, taste your firm little nipples.” Which tightened and began to throb. He pinched the ends through the fabric and she moaned at the slice of pleasure that cut through her.

“What…what else?”

His breathing quickened as he began to enjoy the game. “I would carry you over to the bed and set you down on the edge of the mattress. I would part your pretty legs and kneel between them. I would lick and taste you…here.” He found the spot between her thighs and pressed, and she felt the heat even through her petticoats. “I would tease and stroke you until you found your pleasure.”

She trembled, her heart pounding wildly. Every part of her was throbbing. “Would you come inside me then?”

“I would want to.” His voice sounded rusty. “Perhaps I would fondle you a little more before I entered you.”

“No…” She shook her head. “I would need you right then. I would want to feel you. I would want you to fill me completely.” She reached for him, felt the thick hard ridge pressing against the front of his trousers, and Royal’s whole body tightened.

“If that was your wish, then I would come inside you. I would fill you so deeply we would both be as one.”

She hadn’t realized his hand was beneath her skirts, hadn’t felt him part her drawers until his fingers slid inside her. Lily softly moaned.

“Then I would take you with fierce, pounding urgency. I would take you until you cried out in fulfillment.”

His words and his talented hands had her suspended on the edge. In seconds, his skillful stroking sent her over the precipice into blissful abandon. Lily cried out and clung to him, shaking all over, caught in thrall by the sweet, roiling sensations.

Royal leaned over and very softly kissed her. “Only after you reached fulfillment a second time would I allow myself to join you in release.”

Lily slumped against him, pleasure still coursing
through her. She hadn’t meant for things to go so far and yet she wasn’t sorry. Not when their life might end at any moment.

“There is so much to show you,” he said softly. “So much pleasure to be found…once you are mine.”

But that day might never come and both of them knew it.

Lily shivered in the darkness.

Exhausted but content in a way he had never been before, Royal eased Lily from his arms. The first light of dawn was breaking outside the window. Quietly, he crossed to the windows and climbed atop the crate to look outside in search of a landmark that might help him discover where they were being held.

To his amazement, he recognized the tower above Night’s armaments factory. They were somewhere near Tooley Street, not far from the docks.

“What do you see?” Lily asked from behind him, her voice still edged with sleep. At least one of them had gotten some rest. He smiled to himself, happy to have given her that gift last night.

“I believe our friend Loomis has a keen sense of irony.” He pointed out the window. “That tower is on the roof of Nightingale’s armaments plant.”

Her pretty green eyes widened. “You think he chose this place as a sort of just-deserts for the crime of duping him?”

“Probably.” He stared back out the window. “It will soon be full light. People will be going to work. We’re pretty far away, but we could break the glass, hope someone might hear us shouting.”

“You could try it,” came a deep voice from behind him. “If you do, one of my men will come in here and shoot you.”

Royal turned, spotted Preston Loomis and jumped down from the crate. A huge, beefy, rough-looking man dressed in expensively tailored clothes stood beside him. It had to be Bart McGrew.

“I imagine neither of you is feeling quite so smug this morning.”

Standing next to Royal, Lily stiffened. “Clearly, we underestimated you—Mr. Flynn.”

A nerve ticked in Loomis’s cheek. “Dick Flynn died a long time ago. It’s Preston Loomis you need to fear at the moment.” He studied Lily, his silver eyebrows drawing together. “So this is the real you. Too bad. I found myself quite drawn to you as Tsaya. So dark and exotic, beautiful in a strange, ethereal sort of way. Now you are merely a woman.”

Loomis turned toward the big oaf of a man in the doorway. “But perhaps my friend McGrew might enjoy a taste of you.”

Royal fought a blinding wave of fury. He stepped in front of Lily. “I’m the one you want, Loomis—the only one. Lily was just an innocent party.”

“Not so very innocent, as I recall.” He returned his attention to Lily. “I am curious, though, how was it that you knew about Medela?”

Lily flicked Royal a sideways glance, warning him not to mention the others. “It was merely an accident,” she told Loomis. “As the two of us inquired of your interests and your past, her name came up. It was said you were intrigued by her. The idea of Tsaya came from that.”

It was mostly a lie. Lily was protecting her uncle and his friends. Royal’s admiration for her grew. Whatever happened, he knew for certain the decision he had made last night was the right one. He prayed he would have the chance to make her his.

“Since we are airing our curiosities,” Royal said, “I would like to know how your man here, McGrew, came to be involved with the highwaymen roaming the countryside near Bransford Castle.”

The huge man grinned. “Come to me whilst the boss was there scamming the old duke. Thought how ripe the place was for the pluckin’.”

Loomis cast a contemptuous glare at McGrew. “You knew I wouldn’t approve of something so risky. Now that I know what you have been up to, you are finished with it. Is that understood?”

McGrew studied his big feet. “Aye, boss.”

“Besides, we shall be leaving England once this is over. It is too dangerous for us here now.”

McGrew just grunted.

“What do you want from us, Loomis?” Royal asked.

“Why, I want my money, of course. Isn’t it always about the money?”

“I used to think so. Not anymore.”

“Well, as of yet I am not that enlightened. I want all you took from me and more. Your aunt, Lady Tavistock, has been contacted. If the ransom is paid, perhaps I will let you go.”

So Aunt Agatha was also in peril. It made his stomach knot to think of any harm coming to the frail old woman who had come to mean so much to him. As for letting them go…clearly, it wasn’t the man’s inten
tion. Loomis wasn’t foolish enough to leave witnesses who could see him and Bart McGrew hang.

“My aunt will pay,” Royal said. “She is not in the financial straits that I am.”

“Well, that is good news.”

“I ask that you do not harm her.”

“I don’t see any need for that.” He tilted his head toward the door, motioning for McGrew to step out of the room. “And while we await that occurrence, I shall leave you.” His gaze fixed on Lily. “
Adieu
, Miss Moran.” He made a mocking bow to Royal. “
Your Grace
.”

And then he was gone.

Royal turned to Lily and saw the pallor of her face.

“He is going to kill us,” she said, reflecting his very thoughts.

Royal eased her into his arms. “Not if we don’t give him the chance.”

T
he plan was simple. They had spent hours trying to come up with something better, but their options were sorely limited. Finally, Lily had convinced Royal to let her lie on the floor and pretend to have fallen ill. Royal would shout for help and when the guard came into the room, he would hit the man over the head with the board he’d pried off the crate.

The plan wasn’t particularly inventive, but Lily thought it might just work.

“Are you certain you can do this?” Royal asked.

She only laughed. “When I was with my uncle, I used to pretend to have fits to get people to throw us coins. Just promise me you will forget what I look like while I am doing this.”

Royal kissed her cheek. “There isn’t a single thing I ever want to forget about you, sweeting.”

Lily smiled. Lying down on the stone floor, she nodded that she was ready, and Royal started shouting.

“Something’s wrong with Miss Moran!” He pounded
frantically on the door. “She needs help! Please! I think she might be dying! Someone please help her!” It took a little more pounding and more of Royal’s shouting demands before the sound of heavy boots rang out in the corridor outside the basement.

As soon as the lock began to turn, Lily took a deep breath and started shaking. She rolled her eyes back in her head until the whites were all that showed, opened her mouth and let her tongue hang out. She knew how awful she looked—as if a demon had possessed her. As if she suffered some kind of unearthly fit.

The iron latch lifted. The door burst open and the man with the woolly side-whiskers ran into the room. For an instant, he stood transfixed at the sight of her writhing, squirming and gagging on the floor. In that instant, Royal stepped out from behind the door and slammed the heavy board, full force, on the top of his head. The guard went down like a sack of grain.

“Come on!” Royal grabbed Lily’s hand and hauled her to her feet. They raced for the doorway and scrambled out of the room into the passage. Tugging Lily behind him, Royal made it only a few feet into the dimly lit corridor when he jerked to a halt in front of the man with the long black hair.

A pistol pointed at Royal’s chest. “Now, where do ye think yer going?” The gun held steady. He peered over Royal’s shoulder toward the door to the basement room. “Hey, Oscar, you all right?”

A groan was the outlaw’s answer.

Standing behind Royal, Lily could feel the tension in his tall, hard body as he weighed his options. She thought he might have attacked his opponent if Oscar
hadn’t come out of the room behind them just then, rubbing his head and swearing.

“Go on! Get back in that room!” the black-haired man commanded, the pistol held firm.

Sick and disheartened, Lily turned and started back the way she had come, brushing past Oscar, who caught hold of her arm.

“Hey, Blackie—whatcha say we keep this ’un for a while?”

“Not a chance!” With a growl of rage, Royal charged. Drawing back a fist, he hit Oscar so hard he went flying against the wall. “Leave her alone!”

Coming up behind the men, Blackie slammed the barrel of his pistol against the back of Royal’s head.

“Royal!” Lily screamed as Oscar grabbed her again and Blackie hauled Royal through the basement door and dumped him nearly unconscious onto the hard stone floor.

“Bring the wench,” Blackie said. “I could use a bit of entertainment.”

“Lily!” Royal staggered to his feet, but it was too late. The door slammed closed. Oscar used the heavy iron key to turn the lock and shoved it into his pocket.

“Royal!” Lily struggled, but the arm around her waist only tightened.

“Ye might as well take it easy, pet. One way or the other, me and Blackie’s gonna have ye.”

Royal pounded on the door and shouted her name, and for an instant, Lily broke free. She stumbled and nearly went down.

“I said, bring the wench!” Blackie commanded as Oscar hauled her back to her feet.

“Better do what he tells ye, pet. Blackie’s got a real
mean temper.” Shoving her in front of him, Oscar urged her down the passage.

Behind her, Royal’s shouting had ceased. Inwardly, Lily smiled. He had found the gift she had left for him.

As frightened as she was, she wasn’t nearly as afraid as she’d been just moments before.

Royal grabbed the iron key Lily had shoved beneath the door.
My sweet little pickpocket.
His heart squeezed hard with love and fear for her.

Fighting the fury that threatened to swamp him, he waited for the men to move far enough down the passage that the basement door was out of their sight, then stuck the key into the lock and turned. He grabbed the board he had fashioned as a weapon, opened the door and stepped out into the corridor. Men’s laughter echoed farther down the hall, along with Lily’s cries of protest.

A fresh wave of fury hit him. With iron resolve, he headed silently in her direction. He might not live past the next few minutes, but he would die before he would let them hurt Lily.

Up ahead, a door appeared near a turn in the corridor. He listened, but no sound came from inside. Moving quietly onward, he paused when a second door appeared. It wasn’t tightly closed and in the glow of a lamp, he caught a glimpse of the men inside.

“We’ll start with yer shoes and stockings,” Blackie commanded. “Ye can take ’em off first. Then ye can pull up them skirts and take off your drawers.”

Royal fought to hang on to his temper. He needed his wits about him if they were going to survive. He raised
his makeshift weapon. Blackie was armed. If he could get hold of the man’s pistol they might have a chance.

He took a breath, prepared to rush into the room. A soft footfall reached him. Royal heard the sound of male voices coming from farther down the passage. He pressed himself into the shadows, his senses, already on full alert, kicking up even more.

“I hear something,” a man whispered, and the familiar deep cadence of Sherry Knowles’s voice nearly undid him.

Royal felt a powerful sweep of relief as he silently made his way down the hall. “Thank God you came!” He gripped his friend’s arm and Sherry gripped his.

“Royal! Hell’s teeth! Are you all right?”

He brought his finger to his lips and pointed down the passage. “They’ve got Lily. Come on.”

A few feet behind Sherry, Savage, Nightingale and Quent moved quietly forward. Each of them carried a gun. Quent pulled a second weapon from the inside of his coat, a small pocket pistol, and pressed it into Royal’s hand. “She’s your lady. You’ll need this.”

Royal just nodded. They moved into position as he reached the door. Raising a booted foot, he steeled himself, kicked open the door and leveled the revolver at Blackie.

“Back away from her,” he said with deadly calm. “Do it now.”

Lily let her skirts fall back into place, her hands shaking.

Sherry aimed his weapon at Oscar. “Step away from the girl. Move over there by the wall.”

Lily backed away from the men. Her face was the color of paper, and Royal itched to pull the trigger.
Oscar did as he was told, his eyes darting back and forth between Royal and the men.

“Very carefully,” Savage ordered, his gun trained on Blackie, “pull that pistol out of your belt and set it on the floor.”

At the thump of the weapon landing on the stones, Lily made a strangled sound and raced to Royal, who caught her in his arms. She was shaking. Her distress stirred his anger all over again. “Are you all right, my love?”

She looked up at him, her eyes glistening with tears. “I am fine now that you are here.”

“We need something to tie them up,” Quent said, moving past Royal into the room. In minutes, he had located a length of rope. Drawing a knife from his boot, he cut it in half and tossed the other half to Night. “Make yourself useful.”

Nightingale chuckled and set to work on Oscar, binding his hands behind him while Quent tied Blackie’s wrists good and tight.

“All right,” Royal commanded the outlaws as soon as the task was completed, “I want you both to move very slowly down the hall toward the entrance.” He flicked a glance at Sherry, who backed out of the room, leading the way. Savage and Night escorted the outlaws along the passage toward the stairs and Royal and Lily fell in behind them.

They climbed the rickety wooden stairs to a dusty, board-floored entry that led out the front door of what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse. They had just started for the horses when a fancy black carriage rolled to a stop in the street.

“It’s Loomis and McGrew!” Royal warned.

“It’s a trap!” Blackie shouted before the barrel of Savage’s gun slammed down on the back of his head.

Night dragged the other outlaw behind a row of empty barrels, but it was too late.

Already out of the carriage, Loomis ducked behind the wheel while McGrew pulled a pistol and fired. Quent and Sherry both fired back, their gunshots echoing against the buildings. McGrew returned fire, his shots pinging against the brick walls, but Royal and Lily, Savage and the others had all taken cover and the shots fell harmlessly around them.

Savage pulled off several rounds and so did Nightingale. Royal took careful aim, fired the pocket pistol and the huge man went down. Several more gunshots slammed into the carriage near where Loomis was hiding.

“Hold your fire!” Loomis shouted. “I’m coming out!”

Royal kept his weapon aimed at the mustached man. “Step into the open, Loomis. Put your hands in the air.”

Shoving his hands into the air, Loomis rounded the carriage and moved into the middle of the street. Royal and the others came out of their positions of cover, their pistols aimed straight at him, Night pushing Oscar along in front of him.

Once it was clear the men weren’t going to kill him, Loomis turned and hurried to his fallen friend.

He knelt over McGrew’s huge, unmoving body, tears welling in his eyes. “You’ve killed him. You’ve killed Bart.”

“No, Loomis,” Royal said as he and Lily approached. “You were the one who killed him. You did it years ago when you decided to steal other people’s money.”

Loomis made no reply. For several moments he
remained over the body of his friend, then woodenly, he walked away and simply stood there.

It was over.

“I’ll fetch the other one,” Savage volunteered. Gun in hand, he headed back toward the warehouse where Blackie lay moaning just outside the front door.

“How did you know where to find us?” Royal asked Sherry, who grinned, showing a couple of crooked bottom teeth.

“Your aunt Agatha. She got a ransom note telling her how much the kidnappers wanted and where to deliver the money. She did as she was instructed—except that she wasn’t alone. The four of us followed her. We waited for the man Loomis sent to pick up the money and—with a little persuasion—he told us where you were being held. I didn’t realize Lily had been abducted, as well.”

Sherry leaned over and kissed Lily’s cheek. “I’m glad you’re safe, sweeting.”

“Thank you for coming,” she said. “Royal is lucky to have such wonderful friends.” She moved toward Royal and his arms closed around her.

“It’s time someone went for the police,” Quent said, turning to round up his horse. He had taken only a couple of steps when a commotion down the street drew their attention. A hansom cab, traveling at breakneck speed and rocking perilously back and forth on its two wheels, came to a sliding halt in front of the warehouse. A police wagon followed, overflowing with uniformed police.

Jack Moran leaped out of the hansom, spotted Lily and started running, followed by a frazzled-looking Molly Daniels.

“Lily! Lily!”

“I’m all right,” she said, letting the two of them envelop her in a big worried hug. “Bart McGrew is dead and Loomis has been captured.”

“Praise God,” Molly said, rolling her eyes toward the heavens.

One of the policemen spotted McGrew’s body lying in the street and headed in that direction, while several more rushed toward Royal and the group in front of the warehouse.

“All right, now, what the devil is going on?” one of the policemen said.

“It’s a long story, Officer,” Royal told him. “I’m the Duke of Bransford. Miss Moran and I were abducted against our will by the man lying in the street and this man here.” Sherry shoved Loomis forward. Just then Night and Savage appeared with the outlaws in tow.

Royal looked at the policeman, whose eyebrows had climbed nearly to his forehead. “My friends and I will be happy to explain everything.”

“I should say so,” the officer said grumpily and for the first time, Royal smiled.