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Chapter 19
Annalise wiped a stray tear off her face and looked out the window. The London scenery changed to that of open fields, making Annalise feel free and suffocated at the same time. Had she thought this was how her life would turn out when she’d married Blake?
Of course not. She’d imagined she’d be forever happy with a perfect man. Who would have thought that her mother would turn out to be correct—the woman who had never hidden her own liaisons and who had never cared about Annalise.
Annalise put a hand to her abdomen, and her heart squeezed. She would never have the honor of holding her own child in her arms.
There was a rattle in the basket next to her, and Annalise slightly lifted the lid, peering inside. Glowing green eyes met hers as if begging to be let out.
“I’m sorry, Miss Gale,” Annalise crooned. “I can’t let you out, lest you hurt yourself.”
The carriage halted abruptly, and the horses whinnied loudly. Annalise started forward and hit her head over the roof of the carriage. As the lid slid open, Miss Gale jumped out of her basket and landed on the carriage seat, her hackles raised, her spine arched up.
“It’s all right, Miss Gale. It’s probably just an accident,” Annalise said as she picked herself off the floor.
She wasn’t certain if she found her own explanation soothing. The broken axle was common enough—the roads weren’t perfect—but so soon? They were barely out of London. Shots fired, and Annalise picked up Miss Gale, brought her closer to her chest, and scrambled to the back of the carriage.
What was that?
The door flew open, and a burly gentleman—no, not a gentleman, a ruffian—entered. Miss Gale hissed, trying to claw her way out of Annalise’s arms. The ruffian picked up the kitten and looked at it curiously.
“Aw, what a nice kit—” Miss Gale scratched him deeply in his eye with a hiss.
“You spawn of the devil!” the thug cursed and threw her against the seat.
Miss Gale twisted in the air and landed on her side with a pained shriek.
“No!” Annalise scrambled to pick up the kitten.
As the thug wiped at his eye, Annalise had just enough time to throw Miss Gale into the basket and close the lid. At that moment, the bandit grabbed Annalise by the ankle and dragged her toward the exit.
Annalise thrashed and screamed, but it was no use. He was too strong, and there was no one to help her.
He exited the carriage and thrust her onto the ground. Annalise landed on her hands and knees, her palms scratched against the gravel, and her skirt ripped. A pair of dark, worn boots appeared before her.
“Get up,” said the man in a barely comprehensible country accent.
Someone grabbed her by the arms and lifted her to a standing position. She stared at the man before her, a tall, dirty, foul-smelling man with hands like hammers, and reared back instinctively. He smiled unpleasantly, showing his yellow, crooked teeth.
“Pretty little thing, aren’t you? No wonder Payne fought so hard to come back home. I’d fight like that too if I had a pretty thing like you waiting to warm my bed. Too bad he didn’t leave it alone upon his return. Should’ve snuggled with you and let us be.”
Annalise’s eyes widened. These were the thugs who took Blake? What did they want with her? Nothing pleasant, she supposed.
She wanted to ask a question or say something witty in answer, but her tongue went numb.
“Back to the horses,” he barked and walked away.
Annalise tried to struggle, but two thugs held her tight on either side and dragged her to the nearest horse.
“Harv, bring the rope!” one man spat, and the other man, presumably by the name of Harv, started tying her up while the other one held her hands.
“No! Let go!” Annalise yelled as she struggled to break free.
Harv grabbed her by the hair and tugged her head back. A sharp pain originated at the scalp, and her mouth fell open.
The thug looked at her mouth and lowered his head with slow deliberation. Annalise struggled in vain. She was no match for the violent, strong man. So she did the only thing she could. Just when his mouth was about to descend on her, she spat on him.
Harv reared back, letting go of her head in the process. The man holding Annalise by the hand laughed uproariously.
