Page 125 of The Boxing Baroness

Dominic grinned. “You could call me that.”

“I could also call you a traitor and a murderer.”

His good humor vaporized like a drop of water on a hot stove. “Be careful with that clever mouth, darling. I need to deliver you alive to the man who wants you. But your friends are another matter entirely.”

* * *

The sun rose and fell twice before they finally reached their destination.

From Sin’s position tied up on the floor of the caravan it was only possible to see the sky out the small window. He had no idea what direction they’d headed. The only thing he knew for sure was that they’d been increasing in elevation almost the entire time.

The days had been long, but at least Dominic had periodically sent a man to feed him and let him take care of his private business. But the hours had dragged, filled with nothing but his own unpleasant thoughts.

His fear for Marianne threatened to eat him alive. Not just what Dominic had planned for her, but how Sin was responsible for her present situation. It was, without a doubt, his fault that she was in her current predicament.

But if he was to be any help to her, he had to guard against Dominic and his incessant poking and prodding and game playing. The other man would goad him—just as he’d always done—but now would be a terrible time to give in to his manipulation.

As for Dominic’s lies about Ben, well, Sin had felt sick at his disclosure, but he’d scarcely been surprised. Deep down, he’d never really allowed himself to hope that his brother was still alive. Although he’d found the ring and letters compelling enough evidence, it had been Sin’s unwillingness to believe that Dominic could make up such a horrifying lie that had really persuaded him to make this journey. He’d simply not been able to accept that the other man could have sunk so low.

And now Marianne would pay for his foolishness.

The door opened and the young man who’d brought him food last night stood in the opening. “We’re here,” he said, aiming his musket at Sin. “Come out and don’t try anything.”

As if he could. His arms had gone numb ages ago and sitting on the floor tied up for so long had made him so stiff that he could barely get up and stumble from the caravan.

He squinted into the brightness of midday, his gaze immediately drawn by the smallest castle he’d ever seen. It was built on an escarpment that overlooked a valley. Calling it a castle wasn’t quite accurate; it was more like a large house with a single turret. The most impressive part of it was the stone bridge they’d just crossed, the only point of access to the castle from the rest of the mountain.

It was charming and reminded him of a dollhouse he’d bought for one of his nieces a few years back—tiny and perfect. All it was missing was a moat and drawbridge. Although the drop of at least five hundred feet was probably protection enough against invasion.

Marianne stiffly climbed down from the caravan she’d been sharing with Cecile. He only had time to exchange a quick glance, ensuring himself she was unharmed, before Dominic strode to the front of their small group.

“Welcome to Himmelhause—which translates to heavenly home.” He dropped a mocking bow and turned toward the castle entrance just as a slender man in a heavily decorated military-style coat strode toward them. “For the time being you are the guests of His Royal Highness Gustav IV Adolph, true King of Sweden and ruler of Finland.”

Sin wondered if he was still inside the caravan, dreaming.

The man who approached them wore kingly raiment, but a less regal king Sin could not imagine. He wasn’t just slender, but gaunt in the extreme. He had a nervous tic and his arms and legs constantly shifted.

“Welcome,” he said in accented English, his gaze flitting over the small group and landing on Marianne. A stillness settled over him as he stared at her, his face hardening.

Sin took a step toward her, but the two guards grabbed him.

The king did not appear to notice the slight scuffle. Instead, he walked up to Marianne with an entranced expression.

“She looks like him,” he said, seemingly unable to pull his gaze away from her.

Dominic stepped up beside him, smiling, his eyes on Sin rather than Marianne. “She does, indeed. Same lips, mouth, same arrogant set to her jaw.”

The king stared, riveted.

“She doesn’t know,” Dominic said, a gleeful smile twisting his mouth.

Sin’s hands clenched.

Gustav’s pale brown eyebrows shot up his forehead. “You don’t know who your father is?” His lips stretched into a petulant sneer. “Who your whore of a mother is?”

Marianne must have given King Gustav the same look she’d frequently given Sin in the beginning—the one that threatened physical violence—because Gustav stepped back.

“Come, let’s not have this discussion out here,” Dominic said, still smiling.