Читать книгу The Earl's Wildcat - Krystina Daryl - Страница 6

"Damn it!" Nicholas cursed as he hurried after her. He did not mean to cause her embarrassment. On the contrary, it was a relief that she hadn't been with any man and that she wanted him to be her first. Granted he did not like innocents and would never ruin one, but it would only be a matter of time before she wasn't a virgin anymore.

So why shouldn't he be the one to usher her into womanhood?

She wanted it, and she wanted him. He wanted her. Oh how he wanted her!

As he'd thought, she had been most responsive. He was sure her moans and cries were heard throughout the brothel. And that ear splitting scream, right after she sank her teeth into his shoulder and bit down hard before she exploded from her orgasm, was loud enough to call attention to everyone inside.

He rubbed the sore spot and his lips spread in a roguish smile.

As chauvinistic as it may sound, he was quite proud of himself, having brought her to her first powerful orgasm. Well, what he believed to be her first orgasm if she were being truthful about not being touched before.

The memory of how tightly she had clutched his finger as she came made his cock jump. After feeling her maiden head, it took all he had not to open his breeches and drive his cock into her tightness.

He shook his head to clear his mind. His member still stood at half-mast even after coming in her innocent hand.

Damn! Innocent, but she pumped him so well. The friction from her callused hand built up the pleasure to heights no soft hand had taken him before. He just found a new preference when getting a hand job.

He groaned when his cock jumped again.

It would be useless to think of her and all he wanted to do to her if she disappeared. He needed to speak to her, get her away from Mr. Kingston so that he could give them both what they wanted.

What is she doing with Mr. Kingston, anyway?

That question had puzzled him from the moment he felt her barrier. Aside from saving him from accumulating debt on the gambling table, what else did she do for him? Most importantly, who was she to him?

He reached outside just in time to see her climb into a carriage. "Wildcat!" He rushed to her, grabbed her waist and pulled her back out.

"What the hell!" she cursed, knocking his hands away and quickly turning around to face him. Her hand was held behind her back, a determined look on her face like a man ready to attack.

He held his hands up. "I would like to speak to you."

She groaned, covering her masked face with her hand. "You do not do things like that in a dark alley! I could have easily killed you!" she chastised in a stern voice.

He smiled. "I assure you, I am well capable of taking care of myself."

She let down her hand and stared at him, he presumed her brow was raised under the mask. "Oh really?"

He stepped closer to her. "Yes, really."

Then suddenly, Nicholas felt a heavy hand wrap around his wrist and pull it behind his back. He let out a pained groan and stayed still. If he were to attempt to fight his attacker, with the manner he'd twisted his arm, he surely would break it.

Wildcat moved to him and held his chin in her small hands. "Maybe wherever you came from, but not in the back streets of Dallas. You'll have you throat cut in the same moment it would take you to blink."

"Tell your man to unhand me!" he demanded.

Wildcat chuckled, then looked over his shoulder and gave the man a curt nod. Relief washed through his aching arm once the hold was removed.

Nicholas turned around to see his assailant. He was tall, but in the dark he could notice nothing else. He wanted to punch the man in the face but he wasn't the reason he was out there.

He turned back to Wildcat who had a noticeable smug smile on her face. "I'm glad you enjoyed that," he said through clenched teeth.

She shrugged. "I'd consider that a lesson, for the next time you want to chase someone into a dark alley."

Nicholas felt his temper rise. "Thank you for the lesson."

Her smile widened. "You are very welcome. Now tell me what you what?"

He grabbed her arms and pulled her flush to him. "You know what I want."

She tried to struggle out of his hold but he wrapped his arm around her waist to keep her against him. "I'm sorry but it is no longer being offered," she countered.

He chuckled. "Oh? A minute ago you were eager to have me inside you."

"I found another man to do that." She turned to her side, "Is that not so, Tom?" she spoke with a honey coated voice.

Before he had a chance to respond, Nicholas heard a click and it did not take him long to know what it was. Then he felt the cold metal press against his temple.

"Leave my woman alone!"

Nicholas watched Wildcat's face for a reaction. There was none. Her smile remained and she stared right into his eyes like they were doing nothing more than conversing and her man did not have a pistol held against his temple.

"I believe it would be wise to do as Tom says, my lord," she said sarcastically, a short chuckle escaping her lips.

He felt the rage begin to consume him. He was a fool to have worried about her feelings. She may be an innocent in body but in mind and action, she was a bitch!

He released her and she slowly took a step back. "Do not trust everyone you meet, my lord."

Nicholas fisted his hands at his sides. "Believe me, I've learnt my lesson," he hissed.

He saw her smile fade for a fleeting moment before she spoke again. "Thank you for the wonderful climax. You may not believe it, but I did enjoy it... and what came after."

Before he could give a retort, Tom yelled, "What climax?" In his anger, he eased the pistol away from Nicholas's temple and turned it slightly forward. "Wildcat, did you let this—"

Nicholas cut him short by wrestling his armed hand, turning it around and pressing the mouth of the pistol into Tom's side. He heard the muffled discharge that was overshadowed by Tom's loud cry.

Tom fell to his knees, his hands pressed to his side.

Wildcat gasped and rushed to him. "What have you done?" she cried.

Nicholas threw the pistol away. "It is nothing but a graze." He leaned down and grabbed her chin in his hand. "Here is a lesson for you. Do not misjudge people and what they are capable of at first glance."

He pulled her up to her feet and pressed her hard against him. She tried to fight him off, but he grabbed her hair and pulled her head back, stilling her movements. "I liked you, Wildcat. I would have offered you protection and all the luxury you would have demanded. But one thing I hate is being played for a fool!" His hand fell hard and fast onto her bottom a half dozen times. "Play the game and pay the price. Next time it will be on your bare arse!"

Her lips parted in a gasp. He was tempted to kiss her, to taste them one last time but his rage was more pronounced than his desire. He let her go, and without a backward glance, he walked back into the brothel.

He'd have to find a woman, probably two, to dispense of the sexual frustration she had worsened.

*****

Lydia watched him walk away with conflicting emotions. She admired his strength and confidence. He moved and spoke like the world was his to do with as he pleased. Well, he was a noble, though she did not know his title, she was sure he was told from birth that the world was his play ground. His arrogance showed it.

She was also saddened by how he quickly disregarded her and angry at herself for throwing away a life of luxury with no worries. Granted, she would be giving away her most precious possession to a man who wanted nothing but her body, but there would be greater benefits given in exchange—money, security and one she lusted for most, his body in return. She could stand being his mistress; she most surely would have enjoyed it.

But what would happen once he found a wife? Being a married man's mistress was something she would never agree to. She would have to leave him.

The thought made her heart ache.

She laughed. A few hours in his company and she was attached, mourning the loss of what could have been, what was never hers. She wasn't mourning his loss, just the loss of what he could have given her. She shook her head. What was she thinking? The cad had just shot Tom and then had the audacity to—to spank her and threaten her with another! Hell would freeze over before that happened!

Lydia never got attached to a man, or anyone else.

"Damn it, woman! Help me up!"

Tom's bellow drew her attention. She quickly moved to him and draped his arm over her shoulder and pulled him up. "How bad is it?"

He groaned from the pain as Lydia helped him into the carriage. "He grazed me all right; right to the bone. I think he chipped my rib. I thought nobles fought with swords and not pistols!"

Lydia chuckled. She was sure his pride hurt more than his wound. Tom wasn't just a footman otherwise she would have no need to carry two blades—one hidden and the other easily accessible—on her person whenever she was around him like she did with others. She was protecting herself from her protector.

She was worried he would go after the Englishman but that would only draw the law's attention to him, something he went to great lengths to avoid.

"Well, Tom, we've both learnt a lesson tonight."

He scowled and snapped, "What?"

"Never underestimate an Englishman." She closed the carriage door and climbed up onto the driver's seat. "And, as for me, I need to stay away from that particular Englishman."

That was easily said than done if he meant to be at the palace during her nights of work. She would just have to ignore him and hope he would leave America soon. Without him on the same continent, she would gain control of her senses again and her life would resume its normal manner.

That thought made her chest tighten.

Shit!

Damn the Englishman and all the uncertain and unfamiliar emotions he provoked!

*****

Nicholas stomped up the steps to the mansion in a foul temper. Sated, yes but still in a temper.

He was still shocked by Wildcat's boldness—her stupid attempt to play him for a fool and challenge him. In fact, he had no remorse for shooting Tom—he just wished he'd done more than graze him.

He reached the closed door with every intention of pushing it open and slamming it shut, allowing his anger to echo throughout the mansion and warn all to let him be. He was in no mood for company. He needed to retreat into his solitude and let the fire of his rage settle down.

That rage had led him to shoot a man—he was lucky. The last man who'd dared to face it could not attest to the same luck.

But alas, Lincoln was there to ruin his sounding alarm, quickly opening the door and greeting him with a bow.

"Milord, I trust your night was entertaining."

Nicholas stopped, turned his head to face him and responded with a low growl.

This was why you preferred to give a warning!

Entertaining? Ha! At the expense of his own ego! He should have strangled that... tart! He couldn't call her a whore because she wasn't one, oh, but he had a few more that would suit her perfectly.

"Do yourselves a favour and warn all to stay clear of me until instructed otherwise!" he ordered through gnashing teeth.

Lincoln took a step back with a stunned gaze. His mouth opened to respond but Nicholas warned him against it with one stilling look.

"If we are all to survive this apocalypse, do as the man says, Lincoln," Wynn advised as he walked past Nicholas.

Nicholas grunted—he despised the phrase. He got it at Oxford when he let his temper get the better of him and he beat two boys he found bullying a younger boy smaller in size to unconsciousness. It was right after he received his mother's letter informing him of his father's indiscretion, again, but this was worse.

Shaking off the crushing feeling the memory brought, he stomped away, quickening his strides and taking the steps two at a time to reach his room faster. He banged his door shut and went for the decanter on his table close to the window.

He couldn't understand why he let that witch provoke his temper so. Mayhap, because he was ready to offer her all she desired if she agreed to be his mistress. Hell, she had agreed to it until he revealed her secret.

He'd watched Wildcat's desire for him dance in her eyes like a new flame—unsure of what she's asked but determined to have it like it was a once in a life time event.

Her virgin excitement spurred his own. He wasn't that much of a rake to deflower a woman and leave her to her own fate. If she were a lady, he would be required to marry her as a gentleman should. But even though she wasn't, he would keep her under his protection, and he also was not in the habit to deny a woman—though he always made sure they weren't virgins.

But Wildcat, he would have been her first and though he couldn't marry her for the nature of her work and lack of high birth, he would have protected her until the night he claimed his wife.

He was a rake, determined to enjoy his freedom in the many willing beds of the women—of all class except married ones—in England but he would not be faithless to his wife and family once the shackles of marriage were on his ankles.

But he was tired of the different faces that only showed him false affection just to get more coin for their service. He wanted something constant, and a mistress would do because he was not ready for marriage. But not anyone would do; he realised that after he met Wildcat. He wanted someone, who possessed fire, arrogance and defiance. A woman who would not only entertain him in bed but also with conversation.

Nicholas did not give a damn that it was a popular occurrence for married men to keep mistresses. Bertha was his mother and he demanded respect on her behalf!

He poured himself another glass of pot. He liked it better when he was in the navy.

He had joined straight from Oxford and bought his commission as high naval officer. He was too disgusted with his father to go home. He couldn't trust himself not to avenge his mother's honour. Five years at sea gave him the peace and the numerous opportunities to physically work off his rage. He enjoyed it, but he did miss land and his family.

Once at the port in Spain, he received word of the death of Christopher's grandfather and he immediately sold his commission. If it wasn't for the fact his friend, his brother needed him, he might have stayed longer.

He groaned. Thoughts of the past were only worsening his mood.

He yanked off his clothing and fell on to the bed. "Wildcat, if I lay my eyes on you again it would be too soon!" Closing his eyes, he swore from ever returning to the Dallas Palace. It wasn't a moment later that he groaned as the memory of swatting her bottom had his cock stirring. Even though it had been a quick spanking and over her clothing, he well remembered the feeling of her soft skin when he'd cupped her scantily clad buttocks earlier. His cock twitched at the thought of what he'd promised. Yes, you could be damn sure that if she provoked him again, he'd have her turned face down over his lap, skirts up and those barely there bloomers down at her ankles. The next spanking wouldn't be over anywhere nearly as quickly and would be given on her pale, bare bottom.

*****

Nicholas walked quietly to the library, careful not to disturb his throbbing head. The worst thing about getting foxed was the morning after.

He lowered himself on the seat across from the desk and closed his eyes to keep the sting of the sun out. His fingers massaged his temples to ease the pain. But there was nothing he could do about his queasy stomach.

He groaned, why did he never learn?

"Is it safe to assume that the apocalypse has passed us?" Christopher teased with a chuckle.

"I despise that name, you know that," Nicholas responded in a tired voice. He should have remained in bed for the rest of the day.

"Please do tell, what caused the monster to come out of his habitat and pillage the village?"

Nicholas opened one eye and glared at him. "I did not pillage any village!"

"Well not a village per say but a brothel," Wynn said walking in and taking the seat next to his.

Nicholas turned slightly to grant him with the same glare he'd given Christopher.

Wynn's shoulders went up and down in a deep shrug. "An explanation had to be given as to why none of the maids were willing to bring your breakfast to your chambers."

The mention of food made his stomach turn. Nicholas closed his eyes and swallowed hard.

"Is it true you almost provoked a brawl for a whore?"

Nicholas groaned again. "Do not remind me!" he demanded sternly.

Christopher chuckled. "Speak up man! I want all the juicy details. Melanie isn't so patient with the babe weighing on more than just her body. Her nerves and temper have grown short."

Nicholas gave his first smile of the day as he looked at his friend. "You are afraid of the gentle dove? Even with the roundness of her pregnancy you are still larger than her!"

Wynn shook his head with a whistle. "Trust me, there is nothing to be feared more than an expectant woman whom you love dearly. They know every way to punish you."

Even as he said it, Nicholas noted the delighted look on his face, his smile wide for ear to ear. It resembled that on Christopher's. After all the trials and pain his friend had faced with his wife, they survived it stronger and more in love than he'd ever seen them.

He felt his chest tighten. He envied their family bliss.

Nicholas hid what he could only refer to as emptiness behind a smile. "Hasn't Wynn told you all?"

Christopher leaned back in his chair, a knowing smile on his face. "Yes, but there is a gap in the story; from the moment you walked out with Wildcat with a wolfish grin on your face, to the moment you stormed back into the gaming room, plucked two whores off the laps of two happy-well happy until the moment you ruined their joy-patrons and dragged them up to a suite, where you emerged an hour later still in a rotten mood."

Wynn chuckled. "But they weren't."

With an insincere smile Nicholas said, "I aim to please."

"Well, speak!" Christopher prompted.

With a yielding sigh, Nicholas began, "I'll make this brief and to the point. I propositioned her and she refused me."

Christopher's brows shot up. "That's it?"

"Were you begging? I mean you took an awful long time!" Wynn blurted out.

Nicholas hissed, "I don't beg!"

Christopher leaned forward inquisitively, his elbows leaning against the desk. "Then what is it you are not saying?"

Nicholas cleared his throat, suddenly hot under his collar. "We pleasured each other in the hallway before I propositioned her."

Wynn slapped his thigh with a triumphant chortle. "I knew those loud moans just had to be your doing Townson. They echoed quite loudly in the gaming room."

Nicholas pulled at his collar suddenly feeling flushed. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"And...?" Christopher pushed.

Nicholas did not feel very comfortable divulging the rest to them. She would be...

He caught himself. Why the hell should he care about her?

"Apparently, Wildcat is not a whore, but more like a gambling advisor."

Christopher looked confused. "I know of her talents on a table, but what was that of her not being a whore?"

"She is a virgin-well, when I left her, she was still intact."

Wynn burst out laughing. "Oh please, Townson! You can't possibly think we would believe that! I'm shocked you believed her lies."

Nicholas settled a gaze on him and wiggled his fingers in his face. "There are ways to tell, Wynn, if your fingers are curious enough."

Wynn's laughter died on his lips, his face gaining a new shade of red. Satisfied that he had muzzled the man, Nicholas turned back to Christopher—he was shaking his head with a chuckle. "She was very willing to go with me and let me do as I please with her body. But the moment I mentioned her maidenhead, she flew into a rage and announced she was going to look for another bed since I lacked interest."

Christopher laughed. "Of course your pride would not take that?"

Nicholas sighed again. His pride was far from his thoughts at that moment. "I offered her to be my mistress and, of course, she refused."

Christopher's brow rose. Nicholas knew that look—he was saying 'I can't believe what I'm hearing'. Well, he heard it right. Nicholas had sworn off keeping mistresses, but with Wildcat his determination of restraint was lacking.

"The next minute, her man had my hand twisted at my back. I demanded her to order him to release me. She did, after she mocked me—then my pride took offense. I offered my protection again and received the pressure of a pistol to my temple as a response."

"What!" Both men reacted, almost jumping out of the seats.

Nicholas raised his hand to stop them from speaking. "As you can see I'm whole. He on the other hand, not so much."

Wynn fell back in his chair. "Should we expect the authorities?"

Nicholas chortled. The man was quick to fall on his law instincts.

"No."

Christopher's eyes travelled over him. "Well your fists aren't bruised and by your own admission you did something to the man."

Nicholas nodded and with a nonchalant tone he responded, "I shot him with his own pistol... whilst he was still holding it." He paused and then shrugged and finished the tale. "I also gave the little Wildcat a taste of what she can expect the next time she attempts to play me for a fool."

"And what was that?" Cristopher asked.

"A spanking, of course."

Christopher erupted in laughter while Wynn groaned, probably already contemplating the legal repercussions.

Christopher's mirth settled. "Thank you, Nicholas. I needed a good laugh before I face this day."

Suddenly, the room went sombre everyone's mind set back on the agenda that brought them to America. Nicholas wished this heavy burden was not on his friend's shoulders. He already had enough sorrow to last him a life time. It was moments like these that he thanked God for bringing Melanie into his life.

They had just arrived in America the day before to deal with the burning down of the McCarthy oil mines. The damage was great and the fatality a large number, and since the last update, growing. Christopher had never faced such a huge misfortune since he took over the mines and the blow had hit him hard. It was only a few months ago, Nicholas had voyaged to America to settle a third of its sale to an American, him having just settled the payment of his third.

The deal did not go well and negotiations had been postponed for a later date, but with this tragedy, Nicholas did not see it coming to pass.

Yes, as part owner of the mines he too should feel bereft but he'd only been an owner for a week prior to the disaster. He had yet to form any attachment to it, and the loss it would cause would not be too great to not allow recovery. Christopher's shipping business that he had also invested in was thriving and soon, he would own half of the two new ships being built.

Thanks to his friend, he was doing well and could focus more his ventures for steel.

Yes, he was successful thanks to his best friend's hard work and that was why he was always there to support him when needed.

Nicholas stood up. "Ready, brother?"

Christopher afforded him a tight smile and rose tiredly from the chair. "I could never be prepared for a matter like this, but, I have no choice in the matter other than to be ready."

*****

Lydia laid in her bed, staring up at the ceiling, her thoughts on the Englishman. She'd dreamed about him and the pleasure he gave her. But in her dreams, they went further than just the dark hallway of the Dallas Palace.

They were in a large room standing close to a large four post bed, with sheer fabric falling on all four sides. The room has flooded with light from the numerous candles with twice the number of white roses—her favourite flower. He walked towards her, wearing nothing but his breeches—his broad chest, lined tight abdomen and thick shoulders and arms exposed to her. His eyes held hers in an intense gaze, a rose held to his lips. She could see desire in his eyes, and something else that tugged at her heart.

He stopped before her and pulled the rose away from his lips, exposing a faint smile. Without a word he traced the rose down the side of her face, brushed it against her lips and down her neck to the furrow between her breasts. She sighed, closing her eyes, enjoying the feathery tickle of the rose. Then she felt it draw over her breasts, over a soft fabric. She opened her eyes and stared at her chest. She was draped in a white satin nightdress that hung low with a slit between her breasts, exposing just enough of her to entice him.

He tapped her chin with the rose, beckoning her to look up at him. She lifted her head and met his searing gaze that made her chest heave harder.

"You are beautiful, Lydia," he whispered huskily, holding the rose to her lips.

She almost cried with happiness when she heard her name. He'd called her Lydia, not Wildcat!

With his free hand, he combed his fingers through the waves of curls of her hair. He then lifted a lock of it and held it to his nose. He breathed in deep and smiled. He released her hair and took her hand. He placed the rose in it then moved his hands to her shoulders.

Lydia knew what he was about to do next and she felt nervous and yet excited. She felt her body shiver as her breaths grew short. She looked away from him. She was frightened. Most of her life she always pushed the fear behind determination to get what she wanted and survive. But this was different. There was nothing she was fighting for, and nothing to push the fear behind.

She felt his fingers on her chin as he gently turned her head back to him. "There is nothing to fear, Lydia, my beautiful rose. I will love you like no one ever has."

Yes, that was what she wanted. To be loved, to be made to feel she mattered in someone's life. "Please," she begged, a tear escaping.

"Sshh," he whispered, wiping the tear away from her cheek.

He brushed the straps of her nightdress off her shoulders and slowly lowered the fabric down to the floor, his fingers tracing a path down the sides of her body. She closed her eyes, her body shivering from more than just the cold. She felt his hands trace lightly from her ankles, up her calves, past her knees and stopping at her thighs. She gasped when she felt his lips on one thigh as the other gained attention from his hand—he stroked her gently up and down as he kissed her with his lips and tongue.

"My Lydia, my beautiful little Lydia," he whispered, his breath tickling her bare skin.

He stood up, grabbed her ass and lifted her up. She wrapped her legs about his waist as her arms settled around his neck. He lifted her slightly higher, wrapped his hand in her hair and pulled her head back to expose her neck. He grazed her neck with his lips, nibbled on her jaw then pushed her head up to capture her lips in a light kiss.

She felt them move backwards towards the bed as he kissed her, whispering the sweetest words she'd ever heard. He lowered her on the soft bed, covered with satin pink sheets and climbed atop her. She loved the feel of his weight completely covering her body.

A banging from afar grew louder and louder, shadowing his sweet words. It annoyed her. She turned her face into his neck and kissed him. "Say them louder, please."

Then he shouted, "Lydia!"

And that marked the end of her wonderful dream.

She woke up with a start at her landlady's coarse voice and the banging on her door. Lydia's room was so small the noise bounced off the walls in an echo. She fell back against the bed and ignored the annoying woman.

She wasn't able to fall back to sleep, back to her fantasy, so she got up and readied herself for work. She worked as the midwife's assistant on weekends—unless when it was time to birth a babe. They had seven expectant mothers to visit, and out of all her jobs this one gave her the most pleasure and peace.

Lydia met with her landlady at the ground floor, and with her were two men—the fat one was dressed like her Englishman and the other too drunk to stand straight.

Well, not her Englishman and the drunkard looked very familiar but she couldn't recall from where.

"Why were you ignoring me?" her landlady barked.

Lydia kept her gaze on the drunk while she answered, "How is it possible to ignore the pounding that almost felled my door?"

"So why did you not answer?"

She turned her attention to her landlady. "I know this isn't a respectable inn, but common courtesy should not be lost to you." She stared at the drunken man again, ignoring her landlady's sneer and attempted to place his face. He could barely keep on his feet as he swayed from side to side. He opened his half-mast eyes fully and stared at her. The lazy gaze quickly turned into disdain.

That was all the encouragement Lydia needed to end her curiosity. "Next time knock properly and I'll happily answer." She turned to leave but the hold on her arm stopped her.

She pulled her hand out of the grip and turned to face her captor. She crossed her hands at her wrists and inched her fingers into her left sleeve where a small blade rested. "I do not appreciate being grabbed!"

The fat man in the fine attire laughed, making his belly bounce. "Forgive my rudeness, Miss Parker, but I have to speak with you."

"About—" Lydia paused mid-speak. He knew her last name? Not even her landlady knew it, how did he? Something wasn't right. "Concerning what Mr..."

"My name should not concern you."

Lydia pulled the blade out of her sleeve and into her hand, keeping it hidden. "If the identity of an Englishman and that of his drunk comrade shouldn't concern me, then what should concern me?"

His attempt to puff his chest only pushed his belly out further. He held his head higher and his shoulders straight back. "I am glad you recognize station when you see it. These other poor souls have no respect for those with higher birth."

Lydia chuckled. "Neither do you. For all I know you are a pauper and those rags were stolen. I only show respect to those who deserve it, and you, sir, still haven't given me a reason to show you any."

His face gained a new shade of red as he glared at her. She had unsettled him. Good. Mayhap he'll now get to his point sooner.

"You will not speak to me in such a vulgar manner!" he yelled.

"Vulgar? Oh, sir, coming from me, that was equal to gentry speech. When I do become vulgar—and I am very soon approaching it as I am quickly growing impatient—your ears would burn off your head! State your purpose so I may be on my way."

"And where are you going?"

Lydia held back a growl. "None of your damn concern!"

The drunk scoffed, "Just like her mother. She's probably off to a brothel. No shame at all, selling your body in broad daylight."

Lydia quickly turned to him. Her mother? This drunk knows Geraldine? Then quickly, she remembered where she'd seen the drunk before.

In all his glory, the man who swayed before her on his sea legs was none other than Peter Bronson, her stepfather.

She scoffed and shook her head. This was the last thing she needed, problems from her past.

She turned to the fat Englishman. "Whatever debt Geraldine and Peter owe you I will not pay it. They are nothing to me as I am nothing to them."

He laughed. "No, but Jesse and Jessica do mean something to you."

Lydia was confused. "Who?"

"Your siblings. The boy is only ten and the girl six, too young to pay off their parents' debt, don't you think?"

Lydia felt the emotion creep into her chest but she pushed it away. She didn't know them, and therefore they were not her concern. Lanie was raised with them so this was her debt to clear. "They do have another sister. Go to her for your payment."

Peter rushed to her and grabbed her arm painfully. "Your whore of a mother sold my beautiful daughter as a slave!"

Oh, Lanie! She moaned quietly, what has Geraldine done?

His lips parted in a deep grin then he breathed more toxic air into her face. "And now, I've done the same to you!"

Lydia jerked her arm away. "What are you on about?"

"She sold my lovely girl, so I sold her bastard!"

Lydia laughed. "I do not belong to you. You have no say over me, you incompetent fool! If you are searching for someone to blame, blame yourself and your witch of a wife. I'm so glad I escaped the both of you!"

"And what of your young siblings?"

Lydia turned to the fat Englishman. She was tempted to curse him and his debt to hell but she couldn't. With Lanie gone, she was sure those children had no one to protect or care for them. But what would she do with children? And why should she care? She didn't know them and she owed them nothing. They were not her concern!

She sighed, and her entire body slumped at the new weight. "How much do you want?"

He laughed and gave her a belittling look. "I do not want your merger money, just your aid in a plot."

Lydia was going to regret this; she already knew it. "Whatever the deed is, first I'd like to see my siblings."

"Of course," he said, then gestured with his head behind her.

She turned to see but not fast enough. A heavy sack was pulled over her head, and then huge arms clumped around her and lifted her off her feet. She fought her assailant but it was of no use. She was thrown into a carriage and she quickly pulled the sack off.

Two men sat on either side of her on the seats while she sat on the floor of the carriage. She looked at the one with the patch over one eye intensely until he turned away. Then she turned to the one with the scar and held his gaze in an effort to intimidate him also. He did not look away; instead he reached for the sack.

"Touch me again, and I swear I'll cut your throat open!"

He scoffed and leaned back. "You are more trouble than you are worth." He turned away and moved his hand to the knee of his straightened leg and began to massage it, a pained look on his face.

He was hurt, and if she wanted she could jump out and run—she just had to pass the man with the patch. She turned to him; he seemed to be in a daze, his eyes fixed to the wall of the carriage. If he was an idiot, he wouldn't be too difficult to subdue. She would just need to distract him, worsen the injury on the other's knee and she would be free.

And her siblings would pay for not only their parents' debt but her escape.

Lydia let her ire come to the forefront to shield her growing fear. "Oh, believe me, you have no idea how much!"

*****

Lydia rubbed her eyes to clear them of the dust from the sack. They had placed it over her head again when the carriage rolled to a stop. She was dragged out by the limping one—who she deduced to be the one with the scar—and the man with the patch followed behind, singing a sailor's tune that was quickly annoying his comrade.

She barely had a chance to look around when she was pushed into a dark room, a small window being the only source of light.

"Have a wonderful family reunion!" The man with the scar scoffed before he banged the door shut.

Lydia shot to her feet, rushed to the door and pounded on it with her fists. "You bastards let me out!"

"There is no use for that. You'll only bruise your hands."

Lydia quickly turned around and faced the bold boyish voice. "Step into the light so I may see you!"

She heard the shuffle of feet and a tiny whimper.

"It's all right," the boy whispered. She was sure he wasn't speaking to her because his voice was tender and meant to comfort.

He then stood under the window and Lydia drew in a breath. He looked tired and dirty but he stood straight, his fisted hands at his sides with two tiny hands clamped together at his belly. He was being brave for the little one behind him. Lydia's heart filled with both pain and pride.

"You must be Jesse," she began with a smile. She moved forward a few steps into the light and knelt down, "And the beautiful little girl behind you must be Jessica."

Jesse's face softened but she could still see the mistrust in his eyes. She turned just in time to see the long golden curls hang to the side as Jessica peeked at her from behind her brother.

"Who are you and how do you know our names?" Jesse demanded.

"I'm Lydia." She felt her throat catch at the sentiment of her next words, "I'm your sister."

Jesse stood stoic, his eyes glued to Lydia's face. But Jessica jumped out from behind her brother, a smile on her face. "Lyly?" she yelled.

Lydia laughed and quickly swiped the tear that escaped her at the familiarity of her pet name. "Yes, Lyly."

Jessica shrieked and ran to her, diving at Lydia.

Lydia placed one hand behind her to hold herself steady, while the other wrapped around her sister's small frame.

"I knew it was you, I just knew it!" Jessica's giggles filled the room and warmed Lydia's heart.

Lydia hugged her tightly against her. How was it possible she still had such cheer after their ill fate?

"Are you here to help us?" Jesse mumbled.

Lydia stared at him. With his guard dropped, she could easily see the exhaustion and fear on his face. Lydia felt the tears burn the back of her eyes. How could she have thought of turning her back on them, causing him more suffering and strain that his little body clearly could not handle? He had done enough to protect their little sister and now it was her turn.

"Yes, Jesse, I'm here to help."

The words showed his relief as he fell to his knees, his face buried in his hands. His shoulders shook as he sobbed quietly. Lydia bit her lips shut to hold back her sob. How could a parent do this to their own child? What kind of monsters had they been cursed with?

She moved closer to him and pulled him to her side. He buried his face in her lap, wrapped his arms tightly around her waist and cried harder. Lydia rubbed his back, not knowing what else to do. How does one go about relieving a child of the pain that consumed his heart?

Jessica pulled away, tears in her own eyes. "Please, Lyly, get us out of here." She whispered.

She nodded. "How long have you been here?"

Jessica lifted her tiny shoulder in a shrug. "Very many days. We stopped counting once we reached fifty-five."

Lydia gasped. They had been here for months all alone in the dark! She felt the rage consume her. Peter and Geraldine were going to pay for what they have done. She would make sure of it!

"I'll do everything I can, Jessica, I promise."

She nodded, fell on Lydia's shoulder and began to cry. Lydia held them tight against her, offering the little comfort she could. It wasn't long before her own quiet tears joined theirs.

*****

It took a while before they fell asleep that night. She had seen the little meals they were fed and it angered her. They ate once a day and it wasn't even enough for a sewer rat let alone two children.

She spoke to the woman who brought their meals and struck a deal. Luckily, she had more than enough coin hidden in her petticoat to bribe for three ample meals a day for the next two to three months. She hoped it would not take so long to pay off the debt but she needed to be sure they would be well fed and cared for if it did.

The next few days were happier days considering their circumstances. With a fuller belly, a bath every two days and new clothing, they spoke without pause about their lives—both good and bad. Some of it angered her, others made her smile and most made her envious. Lanie, Jesse and Jessica had each other while she had no one. Then she would feel guilt for being envious now that Lanie was all alone, suffering unimaginable pain. She couldn't permit her siblings to suffer the same ill fate!

She sat under the moonlight, their heads on her laps as they slept soundly wrapped up in their new blankets. Lydia's thoughts were full, mostly of revenge and the debt she had to pay. It had been a week since she spoke to the fat Englishman and it both worried and annoyed her that he hadn't made his demand yet.

As if on cue, the door opened and his fat body blocked the light from behind him. "I hope your stay has been enlightening?"

Lydia looked down at her siblings, peacefully asleep. It was then that she realised she loved them and it was then that she realised she would do what she had to, to save them.

Holding strongly to her resolve, she turned a seething gaze at him. "I'm not one to beat about the bush. State what you want and when you want it done.