Dark Deceptions: A Regency and Medieval Collection of Dark Romances(16)

“I asked you—”

“Oh, I heard you,” Adam murmured in casual tones. “It would hardly be gentlemanly of me to answer such a question.”

Hunter rushed him. His reflexes dulled by captivity, Adam took a step back, but not before Hunter planted another fist in his cheek.

Adam crumpled to the floor with a groan. Blood spurted out his nose and made a sticky path down his cheek. Stars danced behind his lids. He forced them back.

Hunter towered over him. “You are not to touch her. Is that clear?”

From his work with The Brethren, Adam had learned the truth. Be it lords, ladies, or enemies to the Crown, everyone had a weakness. It would seem Georgina Wilcox was Hunter’s. Could Adam exploit that valuable piece of information? Could he use Georgina to attain his release? No, he realized with sickening despair. In a short time, Georgina had come to mean too much to him. He’d never be able to use her…even if it meant his freedom. He gave Hunter a pointed look. “I’m not a coward who would force himself on a woman.”

Hunter kicked him in the stomach.

All the air left Adam on a swift exhale. Through the agony lancing through him, he forced a grin. “Feeling guilty?” he rasped. “It appears you’re not a total monster.”

His captor brought his leg back, but Adam wrapped his hand around Hunter’s ankle and yanked the other man down. Hunter hit the floor with a grunt. His gun skittered just out of reach.

Adam’s heart kicked up a fast rhythm as he stared at the gun that represented freedom. Enlivened by this desire for freedom, he struggled through his weakness and managed to land a neat right jab. Hunter hissed then, with a triumphant yell, overpowered Adam. His captor raised his knee and buried it in Adam’s gut.

Adam fought the flood of nausea as Hunter, gasping for breath, dragged Adam back to his chair and strapped him to the hard piece of furniture.

He retrieved his pistol and returned, glaring down at Adam. The gun dangled at his side, taunting Adam. So close. He was so close to it. If he could only reach out…

Hunter jabbed a finger in his direction. “I want you gone. I don’t care if you’re sent back on your merry nobleman’s way or buried beneath the ground. Give me the information and I’ll free you.”

Hunter’s words were a lie and they both knew it. Hunter would kill him because he knew too much. He knew what they looked like. Knew their code names.

Gasping for breath, Adam forced one of his “merry nobleman” smiles. “I don’t have the information you seek. I’ll say this. I will get out of here and…” He lowered his voice. “And when I do, Hunter, you’d better run. You had better run as fast and far as your pathetic legs will carry you, because I will gut you alive like the scum you are.”

Perhaps it was the deadly calm in Adam’s words, but all the color leeched from Hunter’s face. “That may be, but you’ll be dead as well.”

Adam raised a single eyebrow. “We shall see about that.”

A vein pulsed at the edge of Hunter’s temple. Then a lascivious smile turned his lips at the corner. “You seem so very arrogant about Miss Wilcox’s affections, but remember you are the one who is tied up and,” he leaned down so he was nose to nose with Adam, “I’m free to f*ck her whenever I choose.”

Bile climbed up Adam’s throat. Rage nearly blinded him.

In mocking fashion, Hunter winked. “In fact, I think I’ll go see the lovely Miss Wilcox now.”

The door closed on Hunter’s taunting laugh.





Emmet is using his own funds to purchase weapons that are being manufactured by an Irish sympathizer in Bristol.



Signed,

A Loyal British Subject





Chapter 4




Adam had not gone mad.

Yet.

After three months of captivity, the thing that kept him from relinquishing control was not Grace but Georgina. He scrubbed his hands over his rough beard. Grace’s features were becoming less clear in his mind. With his bound hands, Adam reached for the charcoal and scribbled an image onto the paper. He welcomed the way the cord bit into his flesh, reminding him that he was alive.

Grace’s face began to take shape.

Except the heart-shaped lips he drew were too full. There was too much of a curl to her hair. And there was a faint birthmark at the corner of her mouth that most certainly didn’t belong there.

His stomach clenched in a vise-like knot as Georgina’s face materialized on the paper. He gasped and ripped out the page. Wrinkled it into a ball and tossed it aside. Somewhere along the way, Grace’s face had dissipated in his memory and there was nothing Adam could do, aside from mourning the loss of a far simpler time.

The door to his prison opened. Hunter nudged Georgina inside then locked the door behind her.

She stood, poised by the doorway. Her words came out hesitant. “Adam?”

He reached for another page. His fingers trembled over the sheet. Closing his eyes, he tried to call up memories of the precious lines of Grace’s face. Adam made another attempt. When he’d finished, he sat back and assessed the result.

The woman in the sketch did not possess Grace’s lean, lithe form but rather well-rounded hips and buttocks. He dragged the page out of the book, taking a perverse glee in the tear, and tossed it to the floor beside the other.