A Murder in Time(144)
Tilting her head down so that her chin pressed into her chest, she continued to twist her hands until her fingers dug into the soft coil at the base of her neck. Gritting her teeth, she rooted around and nearly wept with relief when her finger touched the top of one hairpin. She managed to pinch the top of it with her index finger and thumb, and slowly extracted it.
She couldn’t see the handcuffs, although she knew from their size and weight that she wasn’t dealing with a brand she was familiar with. Still, if there was a lock, she’d be able to pick it—she just needed time.
She closed her eyes in an attempt to block everything out. Slowly, she maneuvered the hairpin around until it struck the iron of the manacles, and she then began to tap blindly along the metal, learning its shape, trying to determine its mechanical structure.
She froze when the point of the pin suddenly snagged against the microscopic grain in the iron, bobbling. In reaction, her hand flexed, and she tried to squeeze her thumb and index finger around the pin’s head. Her attempt to control the slender wire was clumsy. She could feel it sliding.
She let out a sob as the hairpin slithered out of her grasp, dropping soundlessly to the bed, out of reach.
68
Alec didn’t bother to knock—he simply barged into Harcourt’s room. The captain had been stuffing a shirt into his satchel, but now whirled around, eyes widening in alarm at the sudden intrusion.
“My Lord? What is amiss?”
“I need you to take me to where Morland holds his club!”
“I-I do not know—”
Furious, Alec shot forward, slamming the other man into the armoire. He pressed his arm into Harcourt’s throat. “Don’t bloody lie to me, Harcourt!”
“Alec!” The Duke and Sam rushed into the room.
Alec didn’t take his eyes off Harcourt. “The bastard’s got Kendra. We’re wasting time!”
Harcourt made a strangled sound, his hands trying to push away the arm cutting off his air supply.
“I know you attended Morland’s club, Harcourt.” Alec eased back, allowing the other man to breathe again. “You will take me there. Now.”
Gabriel crumpled to the ground, clutching his stomach. His waistcoat was already soaked crimson. Blood oozed from between his fingers.
The wound was mortal, Morland knew. He stared down at the young fool and felt the rage rise inside him again. He felt no remorse over killing the man, but was upset that circumstance—not desire—had forced him to take the action. He walked in circles, struggling to control his fury. By the third loop, his vision no longer misted red.
He’d have to get rid of Gabriel, of course. It shouldn’t be too difficult. He wouldn’t be careless like Thomas; there would be no mistakes. The thought calmed him. I’m in control.
“Please . . .” Gabriel moaned. He was shaking, his eyes glazed with pain and shock.
Morland flicked him a dispassionate look. He could finish him off by slitting his gullet, but that would be too easy a death for someone who’d caused him such annoyance. Saying nothing, he turned on his heel, retracing his footsteps down the rough-hewn corridor.
The pressure in his chest eased even more when he pushed open the door, his gaze fixing on Kendra. She was older than his preference, but she was the right size and coloring. Anticipation flooded him as he approached the bed.
“I apologize for the delay, my dear,” he said, shrugging out of his coat. His hand went to his cravat, loosening it. “You and I are going to have a lovely time. I must say that I am quite looking forward to it.”
His gaze slid hungrily over her partially exposed breasts, traveled up the slender column of white throat. He was annoyed that there were marks on it already. Bruises not caused by him.
Still, he smiled as he lifted his gaze to meet her dark eyes, expecting to see fear, the gleam of tears. They did hold a gleam. But it wasn’t terror or tears—it was rage.
Her mouth twisted in a parody of a smile. “Fuck you, Morland.”
She came up swinging.
69
Adrenaline sizzled through Kendra as she sprang from the bed, swinging the one-pound chain like a medieval flail. It struck Morland on the side of his face with a satisfying crack. His cheek split open, pouring blood. With a stunned howl of pain and rage, he stumbled back.
She swung the chain around again, but Morland’s legs tangled with Thomas’s body, and he was saved from another lash by falling on his ass.
The element of surprise was officially lost. Kendra launched herself at Morland, straddling him as she brought the chain up and around his throat. His face turned bright red, his eyes bulging, as he tried to loosen the yoke. Apparently realizing she had the advantage, he eventually let go and began punching her on the side of her head.
Once, twice, three times. Her ears rang from the blows and her vision blurred. She tried to twist away without letting go of the chain, her biceps trembling.
Kendra yelped as pain seared down her hip. Her eyes snapped down, and saw her dress turn crimson. Her gaze went to the knife Morland held. She’d forgotten about the damn knife.
Abruptly, she let go of the chain and rolled off him, staggering to her feet. Her side was a blaze of agony, but she never took her eyes off him. They were both breathing raggedly. The harsh sound filled the room along with the coppery scent of blood: Thomas’s, Morland’s, hers.