AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The man obviously in charge sneered at Royal, revealing an execrable set of teeth. “Don’t matter who I am, but you can call me Mr. Smith.”
“How original,” Royal said.
“Ain’t it just. Now, open your coats. Both of you.”
Royal complied, as did Angus.
Smith’s eyebrows shot up when he saw what Royal had strapped to his waist. “A short sword? What the hell do you think you’re gonna do with that?”
“Kill your master.”
Smith shook his head. “Bloody Highlanders, stupid as the day is long. No wonder we beat your arses at Culloden.”
“Ye won’t be beatin’ us this time, yeSassenachscrub,” Angus said.
“Hand it over.” Smith jerked his head at his compatriot. “Search them for other weapons.”
Royal unstrapped the blade, and then submitted to an exceedingly rough search, which certainly didn’t help the pain radiating down his leg. The thug then did the same to Angus, removing the pistol from the waistband of the old man’s breeches.
“Yer the bully boy who gave me the topper, aren’t ye?” Angus asked in a conversational tone.
“And a good one, from the looks of your ugly mug,” the brute smirked.
“Then I’ll be blowin’ your brains out before the night is over, I ken,” Angus said, rubbing his hands as if anticipating a treat.
Grandda did tend to overplay things, but the thug actually looked a little disconcerted by the cheerful threat.
Smith led the way up the staircase, with the other man following behind, his pistol leveled at their backs. Royal strained to hear sounds from other parts of the house but heard nothing but their own footsteps. He couldn’t decide whether that was a good or bad thing.
As they followed Smith down a corridor, Royal sized him up. The man truly was massive, as was his companion. Royal wasn’t worried about handling Cringlewood, and he could probably take on Smith, too. But if the other thug stayed in the room, he and Angus would have their hands full. If Logan was delayed, events could swiftly go south.
They stopped outside a door and Smith shot Royal a warning glance. “Try anything funny, and your missus will suffer for it. I’ll see to that myself, if his lordship don’t.”
Royal’s fury, barely under control, flared to life. “Touch my wife and you’re a dead man.”
“If not for my orders, I’d be doin’ more than touchin’ her.”
“She’s a prime article, that one,” said the other man with obvious regret.
Royal was torn between a burning desire to rip their heads off and relief that Ainsley was unharmed.
Angus shook his head. “Yer both dead now, lads. Best start saying yer prayers.”
“Shut up, you old fool,” Smith growled. He rapped on the door, then opened it and shoved them through.
“Remember what I said,” he warned.
Royal cast a swift glance around. When he saw Ainsley, huddled in an armchair by the fireplace, clutching her reticule, his heartbeat stuttered. She was still clad in her pelisse and gloves, but her bonnet had disappeared. Her hair had tumbled down from its pins, as if someone had manhandled her.
She dropped her reticule and shot out of her chair with a startled cry. “Royal, my God!”
They met halfway across the room. He swept her into a tight embrace, half lifting her off the floor. She threw her arms around his neck and burrowed close, clinging to him like moss to a tree.
“Royal, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” she choked out.
As relief flooded through his body, his muscles relaxed and his mind started to fully clear, now that he knew she was safe.
He checked her broken litany of apologies. “Hush, love. No more apologies, remember?”
