Addicted to the Duke (Imperfect Lords #1)(39)

She heard splashing behind her and willed her legs to kick harder as Connor was gaining on her. He was a strong swimmer and the current was pushing her away from the jetty toward the beach. Fighting against the current was sapping her strength. It was time to change tactics.

She’d swim with the current. She’d let the waves help her to shore. If she was lucky she’d land just south of the jetty. If she kept her lead on Connor she’d be able to run for help.

She almost swallowed a mouthful of sea as the surf got choppier closer to land.

With one more big kick, she knew the next wave would carry her ashore. Her hopes rose; she could make it.

Then a viselike grip around her ankle dashed all her hopes. Her stomach dropped and she gulped in seawater, spluttering as she fought for air. In a blind panic she kicked out at Connor with her free leg. Luck again aided her escape. Her foot landed squarely in the middle of his face and she heard his nose split with the force. The grip on her ankle loosened.

On she scrambled, crawling onto the sand on all fours. Panting from the effort and on shaky legs, she stood and raced toward the jetty in the fading light.

Exhilaration flooded her body; she was going to make it, only a few hundred yards to go. She heard Connor behind her, his curses drowning out all other sounds except the pounding of her heart. Anxiously looking over her shoulder, she felt panic rise again. He was too close—but she couldn’t move any faster.

One minute she was running, the next she was flying through the air with bands of granite wrapped around her. Her scream rented the air as Connor tackled her to the ground. The soft white sand did not break her fall. She hit the sand as if she’d fallen from a towering oak tree. She landed face first with a bone-rattling thud, sand spewing everywhere, filling her mouth and eyes. Connor’s heavy form smothered her, forcing out what little air she had left in her lungs, her face pushed further into the white sand. Hestia felt darkness overpowering her, as she could barely breathe.

Alex saved her. Not literally, but his face flashed before her eyes with such a guilt-ridden expression that she had no choice but to fight back. Hestia lifted her head from the suffocating sand only to find Connor had risen off her and was gripping her arms tightly behind her.

“If you struggle I’ll snap your arms. Hold still, there’s a good girl.” Hestia felt the strength in his grip. Opening her eyes and ignoring the sand that was making her eyes burn and water, Hestia calculated how close she was to freedom. So close. If she could only break his grip, she’d make it.

“I’m not your girl,” Hestia hissed at her captor. “You’re in so much trouble. Bedford will kill you for this.”

An evil chuckle filled her ears, his putrid breath on her bare neck. One hand snaked around to fondle her breast through her thin shirt. “He’ll have to find me first. Do you think I’d be stupid enough not to have a plan?”

Hestia screamed.

And kept on screaming until a large sweaty palm covered her mouth. But it had been enough. Men on the dock stopped what they were doing and stared toward the pair. She began to struggle in earnest. Having one hand on her mouth left Connor only one hand to hold her. In desperation, Hestia flung her head back and a loud crack ensued as she hit her target, hitting Connor’s already broken nose.

He let out a filthy curse, followed by another of Hestia’s screams. Ripping free of his clutches, she made to leap forward toward the wharf when another hand viciously gripped her hair, jerking her backward. “Where do you think you’re going, bitch?” It was Patrick. Now she had two men to escape.

She screamed again. The commotion on the beach started to draw a crowd. If she struggled long enough surely someone would arrive to help her. Arms still free, Hestia instinctively elbowed Patrick, catching him on the side of the head.

“Filthy whore, you’ll pay for that,” and he spun her around by the hair and slapped her hard across her face.

Seeing stars and unable to hear anything except the ringing in her ears from the blow, Hestia dropped to her knees in the sand.

Four strong, rough hands grabbed her and started to lift her up, but just before she could fight back she heard a conversation that struck terror into her heart.

“I hope she’s worth all this trouble.”

“Don’t you worry, I intend to enjoy her bountiful charms over and over and over again.”

Hestia’s final thought before she slipped into unconsciousness was of Alex. He would never forgive himself for allowing her to be taken by men he’d employed on his ship.

—

Alex’s frustration escalated with each passing minute. He was getting nowhere with his local contact, Jose.

“So you’re certain that no sloop was expected in port?” As the boat hadn’t followed them into the harbor, Alex had nothing further to go on.

“Sí, se?or.”

Alex glowered at Jose. “Can you organize some men to watch the shoreline? I want to hear of any sloops anchored offshore.”

Running his hand through his hair, he said to Jacob, “It would seem for now that your fears are unfounded, but still it would be better to ensure the sloop has left the waters around Mallorca.”

“They could be hiding among all the ships at anchor. One small sloop would be easy to overlook.”

Alex grimaced. “Perhaps we should stay ashore and keep hunting?”

“Maybe. It’s almost a full moon, and with a clear sky visibility will be good.”