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She didn’t know whether to be grateful her aunt or sister did not emerge from one of them. There would be no escape for her if they did not but she would not want them anywhere near these men, whoever they were. They handled her with practiced ease, as though they stole ladies from their homes every day.
If only her head would clear. If only his shoulder did not press into her stomach, leaving her feeling weak. If only the pounding ache in her face would go. Then she would stand a chance.
A sob bubbled up against the cloth when she spotted the butler Archibald prone upon the marbled floor, blood splattered on the pristine white underneath him. Had they killed him? The small man would not have stood a chance against these men. They must have barged in and knocked him down in an instant.
A chill spread through her, pooling in her churning stomach. Whoever these men were, they were bold and experienced.
They were incredibly dangerous.
The air fled her lungs when they dropped her onto the wooden surface of a wagon and the arm she landed on throbbed in pain. She winced and rolled onto her back to see the briefest flash of the pretty clear sky before darkness swallowed her.
The rough, thick fabric across her face and body stifled her breaths and she inhaled as deeply and slowly as possible, made all the more difficult by the oppressive heat under the cloth and the sudden rocking. She tensed her body against the motion and placed her feet against the sides of the vehicle. No doubt she would be covered in bruises by the end of this ordeal.
If she survived, of course.
The desire to close her eyes against the darkness and give into exhaustion pulled at her. She fought hard, though, picturing her worried sisters, her aunt, and most of all Blake. Whatever these men wanted from her, she had to survive to see him again.
***
The open door at Demeter’s house made Blake’s gut pull. He caught sight of a servant dashing past, then another. Scowling, he stepped into the hallway to spy a maid scrubbing the marble floors. He went to get her attention but voices clamoring above one another snared his notice. A crowd of women hastened toward him, some in their outer garments, Aunt Sarah wielding a pistol, and Eleanor shoving her arms into a pelisse.
“Ladies…” Blake started.
“We should go find her,” said Cassie, ignoring him.
“Iwill go and find her,” Chastity declared.
“You will not,” Eleanor snapped. “You cannot go anywhere like that.” She gestured to Chastity’s rounded belly.
“Lady Eleanor…” He inched forward a step but none of the women paid him any heed.
“I can go.” Aunt Sarah waved the pistol and Blake resisted the desire to duck. “I’m fully armed and an excellent shot.”
“Perhaps we should find Anton. I think he was going to the assembly hall today,” suggested Eleanor. “We might need him.”
Cassie shook her head. “Anton panics in dangerous situations. You remember what happened when you broke your arm, Eleanor.”
“Hewasonly twelve,” Eleanor said.
“He was thirteen!” Cassie shot back.
“Ladies!” Blake called as they broke out into more arguments. “Ladies!” he bellowed.
All four of them pivoted slowly to eye him.
“Oh thank goodness!” Aunt Sarah let the pistol relax at her side though Blake kept a wary eye on it as she approached. “Demeter has been taken.”
A knife to the heart would have been less painful. “Taken?” he echoed, his voice sounding strange to his ears.
Eleanor nodded frantically and shoved a crumpled note his way.
“Bring the money or we will kill your woman.” Blake re-read it several times while his blood turned to ice. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not to Demeter.
“Who do you owe money to?” Chastity demanded, rising on tiptoes to thrust a finger in his face.
“No one.”
“They are dangerous, whoever they are.” Eleanor gestured to the maid and it was only then Blake noticed the red staining the bucket of water.
