AllFreeNovel
Share Us
They might have lost some of their edge since being dismissed from the army, evidenced by the fact Hunter had been able to surprise them with his presence, but they all now rallied behind their leader by producing a motley array of weapons from beneath the rags they were sitting upon. A knife, a wooden club, a catapult, and a long stick that had been whittled into a sharp point at the end. None of those weapons were any match for the gun Hunter wielded.
Unfortunately, the rifle Harker had produced from the pile of leaves beside him while Hunter was preoccupied with watching the rest of the men arm themselves was not so innocuous.
The other man now proceeded to lift and rest the butt of that rifle against his shoulder before pointing it, not at Hunter, but at Evelyn.
Whether the man even had a bullet in the chamber was questionable, but was that a risk Hunter wished to take by calling the other man’s bluff and risking Evelyn’s life?
“I suggest we lower the tension of this meeting by putting away our weapons.” To show his own good faith, Hunter lowered his pistol and rested it against his thigh.
“On the ground,” Harker instructed, keeping his own pistol aimed at Evelyn. “Ye and ya pistol,” he rasped when Hunter bent with the intention of placing the pistol on the damp and leafy forest floor.
His brows rose. “You wish me to sit on the wet ground?”
“Yes.”
* * *
Evie could literally see the war of words taking place within Hunter St. John’s head.
On the one hand, he obviously didn’t want anyone to feel the need to start shooting or attacking with the array of weapons available to them. He also might have the advantage of holding a pistol in his hand, but it still had only one bullet.
Yes, he might succeed in shooting and killing Paul Harker with it, but he was also vastly outnumbered, and once that single shot was fired the duke would then be left to suffer at the mercy of Paul’s outraged men.
On the other hand, he obviously had no wish to suffer the indignity of sitting on the dampness of the leafy forest floor and getting the arse of his pristine gray pantaloons dirty and wet.
Evie felt little sympathy for the duke’s dilemma. Not only had this arrogant man ignored her existence for the past five years but, as she had predicted, he had indeed taken his own sweet time responding to the ransom note.
She had been lucky that Paul and his men were not the sort of bloodthirsty kidnappers who would have cut her throat and still demanded a ransom for her release. Instead, they were reasonable men, desperately looking for a way in which to return to and support their families now they were no longer needed to serve in Wellington’s army.
Evie had seen many men such as these return home after Waterloo, all of them bedraggled and starving. Only to find that often their families had presumed them dead and had either moved on or formed new relationships. Or, if their family should be waiting for them, there were simply no jobs for those ex-soldiers, and they were forced to either steal or beg in order to survive.
Paul and his men had decided to live in the forest and poach the food they needed to stay alive and provide for their families from afar.
Looking at Hunter St. John, there could be no greater difference between Paul’s ragged appearance and the duke’s perfectly tailored one. Lincoln wore a green superfine, white linen and neckcloth, silver waistcoat, and fitted gray pantaloons above brown-topped Hessians. His deep auburn hair beneath the tall black top hat was fashionably styled. Paul’s clothes were thin and full of holes, his hair greasy and lank, his face far too lined for his age.
“Do as ’e said,” a third voice instructed harshly.
“There are only five men seated about the fire, not six,” Evie heard the duke mutter to himself in self-disgust.
“Losing ya touch, Your Grace?” that new voice taunted.
Evie winced when she saw that John Clegg now stood behind Lincoln, a knife pressed against the side of the duke’s neck.
“It would appear so.” Lincoln sighed his irritation with himself.
“Thasixthman were keeping an eye out fa unwanted visitors. Imagine my surprise when I saw tha Duke of Lincoln ’imself entering tha woods,” Clegg taunted. “Very stealthily ye moved too. But not stealthily enough I didna ’ear an’ see ye,” John added in a hard voice. “Now ’and over ya pistol an’ sit thaself on tha ground. Don’t move or speak while we decide what’s to be done wi’ ye.”
Evie felt little sympathy for the duke as he handed over his pistol, then slowly lowered himself to sit cross-legged on the damp forest floor.
He hadn’t so much as looked in her direction again after his initial assessing glance, and he didn’t do so now either. Instead, his narrow-eyed attention was fixed steadily on the six men now huddled together in whispered conversation on the other side of the fire.
Evie wondered why such a cold and haughty gentleman should have been blessed with being handsome and wealthy and titled. It hardly seemed fair. Especially when taking into consideration her raggedy kidnappers had behaved more kindly toward her these past two weeks than her absentee guardian ever had.
She was so lost in those resentful thoughts that she was totally unprepared when all six of the outlaws rose to their feet.
Paul levelled his gaze on the duke. “We’ve decided you’re to become our prisoner too. An’ the ransom demand ’as now gone up tofivethousand pounds instead o’ one!” he added with great satisfaction. “A duke ’as to be worth at least that much.”
CHAPTERFOUR
