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“You there! Wot you doin’ in Alfie’s office!”
Adelaide didn’t wait. Instead, she took off, ducking under his arm and flying down the hallway away from the guard.
“Shit, boys! ’Ere’s intruders up here!”
“My cue,” she said before flying down the stairs to the first floor of the warehouse, calculating that she had less than a minute to get herself lost in the shadows. If she could get herself to the far end of the building, where the large door stood open to the fast-darkening street, she might be able to disappear.
Except she wasn’t alone.
The Duke of Clayborn was matching her move for move, light on his feet and faster than she would have thought a man of his size would be, but no less difficult to hide. Which was not her problem.
She tossed him a look. “Get gone, Duke.”
“Not a chance.”
With an irritated sigh, Adelaide checked behind her as they exited the stairwell, their original pursuer halfway down the stairs from above, and three others coming up from below. Biting back a curse, she headed down a long row of stacked crates, as far as she dared before tucking herself behind one.
He slid in beside her, barely there a moment before he inhaled, clearly planning to speak.
Adelaide covered his mouth with her hand, the scruff of his day-old beard rough-soft against her fingers. Not that she was interested in how he felt against her fingers. If the fire in his blue gaze was any indication, he wasn’t interested in that, either. He was annoyed, no doubt, that she was taking charge. Well, he’d have to get used to it if he wanted out of here unscathed.
She shook her head and pointed to beyond the stack of crates, where two of Alfie Trumbull’s guards thoroughly searched the passageway. Leaning in, she whispered close to his ear, barely a sound, “Can you fight?”
As she hadn’t removed her hand from his lips, he raised a superior brow in reply, his offended answer clear as a bell.Of course I can fight.
He likely couldn’t fight worth a damn—aristocrats were generally useless—but there wasn’t a choice. Adelaide hadn’t been caught in sixteen years, and she wasn’t about to start now. The men approached.
Releasing him, she shifted silently on the balls of her feet and reached beneath her skirts, slipping her blade from the sheath inside her boot with one hand, clutching the wooden cube in the other. She put a shoulder to the stack of crates that shielded them.
Five yards.
He shifted with her, matching her stance, facing her, his shoulder to the rough-hewn wood.
Two.
The leather of his gloves creaked as his fingers curvedinto fists. He’d need them. What they were about to do would bring every guard in the place.
One.
With a prayer that he could, indeed, fight, she nodded once. Twice.
“Now,” he mouthed. As one, they pushed, knocking the tower of boxes toward the pair of bruisers that were nearly on top of them.
Twin shouts were punctuated with an ear-splitting crash, but Adelaide didn’t stay to look at their handiwork. Instead, she ran, getting nearly as far as the skeleton stairs at the front of the warehouse—the ones that led to the streets outside and freedom.
Clayborn was on her heels, and though she did not look back—no time—she did call back to him, “This is no place for a duke.”
“Ideal place for a lady, is it?” he retorted.
She wasn’t a lady, but she didn’t correct him, telling herself that it was because she was too busy tearing down the stairs. She headed for the door, where two guards were waiting. Without hesitating, she clocked one in the head with the wood block. “I was doing just fine before you turned up.” She ducked as the other man swung a ham-sized fist at her head.
She heard it connect with a heavythwack, and something she didn’t care for had her turning back to see what had happened.
Clayborn had caught the blow in one large hand. “That wasn’t very gentlemanly,” he said, all calm, the thug’s eyes going wide at the words. “And you’re lucky you didn’t strike her.” He punctuated the words with an excellent facer, dropping the villain to his knees.
Her eyes went wide in surprise as she stared at the unconscious man. “What if hehadstruck me?” When the duke did not reply, she added, “So youcanfight.”
He tossed her another irritated look. “I don’t lie.”
