Secrets In Savannah (Phantom Knights) (6 page)

“He will arrive soon, and after I am
paid, you and your sister will once again belong to him.”

I did not know of whom he spoke, but I
knew with every ounce of conviction in my body that whoever
he
was,
he would never touch Guinevere. Of that, I was about to make certain.

GUINEVERE

T
here were few things in
this world that I would not do, and considering propriety was not a part of
that small list. So when Sam told me that I was requested in the book room
thoughts of propriety, of my reputation did not enter my mind. My only thoughts
were that Jack was waiting for me, and nothing else mattered.

As soon as I entered the room and saw
George Crawford seated behind the desk, I knew that Jack had nothing to do with
this.

After George told me that he would turn
my sister and me over to the man who was coming for us, he had the impudence to
laugh, and the sound ignited a spark within me.

“You have nothing to say?”

He had to have known that I would not
give him the satisfaction of a reply, not when I did not mean for him to
succeed in his plan.

“As you wish.” George turned to one of
his guards, which meant his head guard. “I will go first. Wait two minutes and
then take her through the garden to the carriage.” George faced me again, smiling
that annoying thin lipped smile that made his cheeks look puffier and three
lines to form on each side of his mouth. “Do not underestimate her for a mere
woman. She has claws.”

His head guard smirked at me, but
quickly changed the look into acquiescence for George, which meant that I
already had an advantage. The man’s smirk was enough to tell me that he
underestimated me.

George nodded to his men and left the
room. As the door snapped shut, I looked at each man, searching for their
flaws. The head guard I knew to be an over-estimator. He would be the last into
a fight, waiting to see how his men made out before he soiled his own hands.
The man next to him was a broad bruiser. His nose was crooked, no doubt the
result of many fights. He favored his left leg.

The third man across from me was eyeing
me like a wolf to his prey. Hungry eyes roved over my body, but it was what his
body was doing that told me all I needed to know. He was standing a little
hunched over, with his arms crossed over his chest without a thought except for
what he would like to do to me.

Men like that I had dealt with the whole
of my career. The way he crossed his arms and where his thoughts were focused
assured me that he would try to use brute strength. He would go for my hair first,
and pull me up against him so that I knew what he could do to me if I did not
cooperate. Men like that were always too quick to guard their face, but not
quick
on the nether regions. Always hit them where it counts
the most.

The man to my left was not looking at me
which meant that he was more about getting the job done and, by the smell of
him, getting back to his rum. The man to my right was more like the lecher man
across from me though I had already angered this one. He was holding a
handkerchief to his nose where I bashed him with my head. His eyes were slits
of anger. I would have to hit him first.

“It is time. Let’s move.”

Two guards moved down the steps to the
garden, and when they gave the signal, the two holding me led me toward the edge
of the terrace. They would not want me to be seen through the many windows of
the house, so I knew they were going to try to hand me down to the two below.

With the guards’ hands holding my arms,
I lifted my feet and shoved hard against the balustrade. The guards’ released
my arms and I was flung into the head guard. The impact of my body against his
chest sent us both reeling back into the book room, and we crashed against the
desk. I rolled off him, but he was quick and got a hand to my arm. I grabbed a
metal inkstand and brought it down hard against his hand. He squawked and
released me as the two from the terrace came toward us.

My heart was dancing around in my chest
as I leapt to the right and picked up a fire poker. Two hands grabbed my waist,
and I lost all sense of calm. If I could get to the door, help would be on the
other side. If no one else, I knew Sam would help me.

Using the poker, I slammed the iron hard
against the man’s leg, then used the end to stab at his side. He released me as
he stumbled, and I turned, ready for the next assault.

The man whose nose I had broken came
toward me, growling like men do when they are angry. He came in low with his
hands out like paws braced before him.

Holding the iron tight, I acted as if I
were going for his head. His hands flew up to block. I slammed the poker
against his groin and legs. As he shouted, his hands cupping himself, I hit him
on the back of the head.

The poker was wrenched from my hands,
and an arm went around my neck from behind. Glancing around the room for
something to use, my hands fisted, preparing to battle this out like men if
that is what it would take.

“Release her. At once!”

At that voice, my breath rushed out of
me. Hearing it again caused tiny shivers of pleasure to flit along my arms.
When he was shot, I did not think I would ever hear his voice again. As the
familiar rush of love overtook my chest, I fought against my captor to turn. I
needed a glimpse of Jack. Every part of me yearned for him.

My captor turned us toward the voice and
my body momentarily sagged at the sight of Jack. He was not wearing a costume,
only an elegant black coat slightly askew, his white shirt was ripped, his silk
knee breeches were creased, and his white stockings were muddied. The sight of
him, alive, caused my heart to slip and slide like trying to walk on ice.

I straightened my shoulders as I watched
Jack; his attention focused on my captor.

Broken nose straightened and charged
toward Jack, and I could do nothing to help him as the head guard kept his
muscular arm around my neck. If only I had worn boots with heels instead of
slippers. Stomping on my captor’s foot would do little other than hurting my
own foot. Jack was getting some good hits on broken nose as the head guard
moved me toward the window.

I was not a defenseless female; I had
never cried for help, and I refused to do so then. Thinking over my options, I
ruled out shoving against my captor, for we would both tumble over the
balustrade, and I could get hurt. We passed a dagger on the terrace, but I
could not get a hand free.

With his arm around my neck, I knew that
it would not take much for him to kill me. I would have to wait until we got
over the balustrade before I could attack.

As we bumped into the balustrade, a long
pole struck my captor’s body. As my spear struck him again, I pulled free of
his grasp as he tumbled over the balustrade to the ground.

Standing on the grass between the
unconscious bodies of two guards was Hannah. She mouthed the word carriage. I
nodded and turned to check on Jack.

He hit a final blow against broken nose.
As the man fell, Jack shook out his hand, and I could see his bloody knuckles.
The sight of blood on Jack made departure flee from my mind.

Jack saw me and for a moment there was
no expression on his face. My breath stilled and the horror of the past few
months crashed down around me. All of the injuries that he had endured over the
past year were my fault. I would not blame him if he despised me, but the
thought was unbearable. A sob escaped me before I could choke it back.

In three strides, Jack was before me.
His hands went around my waist and pulled me against him, his lips pressing
hard against mine. My eyes closed as an overwhelming rush of love turned me
into a well of want. My hands moved up his arms to his shoulders as I returned
the pressure of his lips. Jack was alive, and the warmth spreading from my
brain all the way to my toes caused me to pull him closer. Tingles chased each
other along my arms as passion heated me to near boiling.

Somewhere in my mind, I could hear a
warning, but it was not loud enough to pay heed to. The warning must have been
louder for Jack. He pulled back, and a disgruntled, and somewhat embarrassing,
moan came from me.

He took my face between his hands, his
eyes searching mine.

“I love you,” I whispered. “I thought I
lost you. Please believe that if I had known you were alive, I would never have
left Charleston. I would never leave you.”

“You did not choose to leave me?” he
asked, his expression guarded.

“No! Nor would I ever again.”

The smile that lifted his lips was so
tender that tears burned my eyes, and rarely had I ever experienced that
emotion. Not until Jack entered my life and turned it upside down.

“I love you,” he said and the truth in
his look and his touch sent me over the edge. I kissed him again, pulling him
as close as I could get him.

When he pulled back, he rested his
forehead against mine. “What is happening here, Guinevere?”

My sister’s face slammed into the front
of my mind and then that of George Crawford. My teeth began to grind. I pushed
Jack’s hands away, taking a step away from him. “I promise to tell you
everything, but first we must keep George from departing.” There was enough
hysteria in my voice to make Jack walk to the door.

He turned at the door, pointing a finger
at me. “Do not move.”

He pulled the door open, glanced around,
and then snapped his fingers, signaling for someone to come near. He looked
over his shoulder to make sure I was still there and then Jack’s fellow Phantom
came into view.

Leopold Perry was dressed as a guard
from the French court, sword and all. He looked into the room, saw me, and his
face transformed from no emotion to a range of emotions too complex to
translate.

“I need you to find George at once,” Jack
said, drawing Leo’s attention.

Leo’s face faded of any telling emotion
as he said, “George departed five minutes ago.”

Jack tensed, but had Leo enter the book
room. Before he could close the door, Sam pushed his way inside.

Sam’s intense expression was rather
frightening as he took in the disarray of his book room.

“What have you been doing now?” Sam
demanded, but not of Jack. He was looking straight at me.

“Perhaps you should ask your uncle that,
and while you are about it, ask him why he has captured Guinevere’s sister,”
Jack said as he took my hand and faced his sister’s husband.

“George is responsible for this?” Sam
sounded less than convinced, not that I placed blame on that. George was his
uncle after all.

“George has gone past the bounds of what
is acceptable, Sam, and you should know that I will do all within my power to
stop him.” Jack began pulling me toward the window. “Clean this mess up, will
you, Leo.”

Without heeding Sam’s demand for him to
halt, Jack led me across the terrace to a door that led into the back of the
house.

His hand tightened on mine as he pulled
me with him up a set of narrow stairs to the upper floor. Speaking with him in
private was foremost in my mind, so I did not heed where he was leading me
until he led me into a bedchamber.

As he locked the door, placing the key
in his inner coat pocket, a slither of unease formed in my stomach.

I was aware of the large bed that was
beside me, but I tried not to look at it, even as my heart began a new pattern of
beats. The only light in the room was from a fire that was burning in the
grate. The mixture of the warm room and my cold body caused shivers to overtake
me. The room was masculine in every sense, and smelled decidedly of Jack. The
fresh scent that comes after rain.

Jack was leaning against the door, and
my body shivered for a whole new reason.

“Are you chilled?” Jack pushed away from
the door and came toward me.

I held my ground though my body wanted
to jump away from him. Reminding myself that this was Jack calmed my torrent of
memories. I had been in a similar position before with a different man. Shoving
that memory away, I watched Jack’s every move. He did not touch me, but the
heat in his eyes matched that coming from the fire.

“No.” It came out in a whisper, and I
cleared my voice. “Why have you brought me here?”

Jack smiled, and I felt all of my well
placed defenses begin to crumble. “To my chamber you mean?” He held my gaze for
a moment more before moving to stoke the fire. “I want the explanation that you
promised and this seemed the best place where we would not be interrupted.”

Jack rose and replaced the poker on the
iron stand. As he turned and slowly untied his cravat, I bit the inside of my
lip to keep from smiling, but it did not work. Jack tugged the cravat from
around his neck and tossed it onto a chair.

“I received the bouquet, and though the
flowers were rather pitiful, the message was received. Did Bess instruct you to
let me go?” I knew that Jack was not responsible for the message. It was not
the first time that Bess had sent me a message through a bouquet of flowers.