Taking a deep breath, she carefully maneuvered her hands until she could use her right one to inch up her left forearm, finding the knife and working it carefully down. It was very difficult getting it past the rope, and tears of pain and frustration streamed down her face as she worked it back and forth, her arms burning with the awkward position and her hands tingling from lack of circulation.
But after a few minutes, she finally achieved her goal. The knife was in her hand and she cut the rope, the sudden loosening of tension making her cry out as the blood painfully rushed back into her arms.
She just sat there for a moment, contemplating her next move and trying to get the feeling back in her extremities, when the door above her suddenly banged open and Winters traipsed hurriedly down the stairs.
Thinking quickly, she thrust her hands back behind her back, hoping that from the front, it would look like she was still tied up. She clenched the knife tightly, vowing that no matter what happened, she wasn’t going to go down without a fight.
Winters came to a stop a dozen feet away from here, glancing back the way he’d come, a haunted look in his eyes. “We have to go,” he snarled. “I’m taking you out of here.”
“Why?” she asked, her heart dropping. If he moved her, how would Morgan ever know where to find her?
He said nothing, simply strode forward, looking as if he meant to carry her out of there bodily, when there was a noise behind him and Morgan and his brothers appeared at the top of the stairs.
A glad cry escaped her, and Winters gave her a withering look before turning to face them. “What have you done with my men?” he snarled.
“We simply made them a better offer,” the earl told him, his voice colder than Fiona had ever heard it. “When you pay for men’s loyalty, it’s only as good as the highest bidder.”
Winters uttered a foul curse, then hurried to her side, placing his hand on her shoulder and squeezing tightly. He was slightly behind and to the right of her now. If he looked down, he’d see the knife, but for the moment, his attention was wholly focused on the Strathmores.
“Have you forgotten? I’ve got your brother’s whore here for leverage. I’m sure you wouldn’t want what happened to his wife to happen to this little bitch.”
Fiona blinked back her tears, hating that he’d called her that in front of these men whose opinion she valued so greatly but hesitant to give away the fact that her hands were no longer bound and that she was in possession of a weapon. She only had one shot at this. If she missed, he’d kill her for sure.
Morgan and his brothers slowly descended the stairs, not making any sudden moves but not backing down either. Fiona glanced at Winters out of the corner of her eye, trying to see if he had any weapons. Had he come into this depending entirely on his henchmen to defend him? Surely, he wasn’t that stupid.
“Say one more nasty word against her, and I’ll rip your heart out,” Morgan vowed, and she was shocked by the fury that emanated from him. She’d never before seen him as anything but sweet and kind. But she’d always known that he could protect her if the need arose. That was why she’d always felt so safe with him.
Winters gave an ugly laugh. “I couldn’t believe it when Adrian married an actress, and I was even further stunned when Luke married a maid. But a whore, Morgan? That seems a bit much, even for a Strathmore.”
Fiona felt as if his words had punched her right in the gut. She couldn’t catch her breath, knew her face must be flaming. This was her greatest fear brought to life. She’d never wanted Morgan to know this and especially not for him to find out this way.
“I already warned you,” Morgan snarled. “Watch your tongue!”
“Didn’t she tell you?” Winters asked casually. “She worked at one of my first brothels. She was the first girl Prometheus stole from me.” He chuckled. “By the look on your face, I suppose I can rule you out. You obviously didn’t know. I should have known that it wasn’t you. A man like you would never knowingly enter into a relationship with a used-up harlot like this.”
Morgan stopped at the foot of the stairs, his face frozen as he tried not to give away anything, but she could tell how stunned he was, how sickened he was by the news that the woman he’d wanted to court had worked in a brothel, had sold her body for money.
“I’ve always thought Prometheus was Adrian,” Winters mused, moving behind her and wrapping his hands loosely around her neck, not squeezing yet but showing them all how easily he could do so. “But honestly, I don’t really care about that anymore. What I want to know most is, which one of you killed my father?”
She swallowed, her gaze moving from one of the brothers to the next, having been unaware that one of them had killed the previous Earl of Winters.
Adrian stepped forward, his scarred face flashing with fury. “It was me. I am Prometheus, and I killed your perverted abusive father.”
“No,” Lucien said, stepping forward as well. “I did it. I had to in order to protect my brothers.”
Morgan’s face had grown pale, a look of torment in his eyes, and she suddenly knew, without a doubt, that it had been him.
“They’re trying to protect me.” Morgan shook his head, his brothers’ declarations giving him the confidence he’d needed. “I was the one who killed Winters. He tried to throw me from the tower, and I fought him. He went over instead.”
The earl and Adrian shared a look, and she realized that they hadn’t known the truth until this very moment.Oh, Morgan. How you must have suffered for this!
Winters growled behind her in frustration, his hands tightening around her throat until it was hard to breathe. “Tell me! I deserve to know!”
“It was me,” the earl repeated.
“It was me,” Adrian insisted.
“No, it was me,” Morgan said with a hint of frustration.
