The Irresistible Rogue (Playful Brides #4)(67)

“Ouch.” Daphne rubbed her injured and no doubt bruised shoulder. “I beg your pardon,” she said to the rat.

The door was obviously locked with a bolt from the outside and made of extremely sturdy wood. She glanced about again. There was nothing else. No cracks in the walls, no other entrances or windows. Just her and the rat. She had to think. There must be some way she could get out. Something she could do. She considered yelling for help but thought against it. If her captor heard her and returned, he would no doubt threaten her with stabbing again. She could only hope he hadn’t heard her run at the door.

She sat with her back against the wall and pulled up her knees. The crew of the True Love had been in the crowd at the tavern earlier. They must have seen her leave. And Rafe. Rafe would soon realize she wasn’t coming back and he’d come for her. He’d rip Anton and Viktor and probably that barmaid apart as soon as he realized they’d double-crossed him. Then he’d be on his way. She knew it.

In the meantime, perhaps her captor would return and provide her with an opportunity to escape. The man seemed like a hulking mass, but she was small and spry. She just might manage to get around him and run. He wouldn’t have the element of surprise he’d had earlier. She just might make it if she could find the staircase easily. Regardless, she had to try.

She let her head fall back against the dusty stone wall behind her and assessed her situation. She had two things going for her. One, Rafe and the rest of the crew would be searching for her and they wouldn’t stop until they found her. She knew it. And two, she just so happened to have a knife in her boot. She slid her hand down to her ankle and patted the knife’s handle. It had warmed against her skin and gave her confidence.

For now, or until she could come up with a plan, all there was to do was wait.

She’d drifted off to sleep a bit, lulled by the rhythmic sound of the nearby waves, when the bolt screeching against the door woke her.

“Who’s there?” she whispered into the dark. She glanced over. The rat was gone.

The wide wooden door swung open and the huge man stood blocking the light from the corridor.

“What do you want?” she asked, trying her best not to cower against the wall from his sheer size.

“What’s your name? And don’t lie to me,” he demanded.

“Ye don’t know who ye kidnapped?” she said in her cabin boy voice.

The hulking mass kicked her leg, hard, and Daphne quickly decided against further antagonism. Earl’s daughters were never kicked. Apparently, mouthy cabin boys, or whoever they believed her to be, were. Regardless, she wasn’t about to give up her false identity. She rubbed her aching calf. “Thomas Grey,” she said. “I’m the cabin boy from the True Love.”

“I said don’t lie to me.” Spittle flew from the hulking mass’s mouth.

“I’m not lying,” Daphne insisted.

“Yes you are.”

“Fine. Why don’t ye tell me wot me name is then?” she answered, glaring at him, daring him to call her bluff.

“It’s Daphne Swift. Or should I call you ‘my lady’?”





CHAPTER FORTY




Daphne froze. Icicles pierced her veins. He’d obviously been told by the barmaid she was a female, but how did he know her name?

“Rat got your tongue, my fine lady?” the hulking mass said in his thick Russian accent.

“What do you plan to do with me?” she replied.

The hulking mass wiped a dirty arm across his cracked lips. “We’re using you to lure Captain Cavendish.”

More ice encrusted Daphne’s heart. They had Rafe? They’d used her to capture Rafe? And they knew his real name, too? Had they already murdered him? Were they torturing him again somewhere? Perhaps in this very place? She scratched at her arms, frantic to get out of here and help him.

“But my friend and I, we thought we might have a bit of sport with you. Neither of us has ever been with a true lady.” The hulking mass waggled his bushy eyebrows at her.

Daphne pulled herself into a ball in the corner. She was going to be sick. “Your friend?” she choked out.

The hulking mass didn’t have to answer. Another man came barreling through the door. This man was much shorter, much smaller, and spryer, and leaner than the hulking mass.

“There you are, Billy. I’ve been waiting for you,” the hulking mass said. “You should be thankful I didn’t already have my way with her.” He laughed a disgusting laugh.

Daphne shuddered. Bile rose in her throat. Rape. She hadn’t considered rape. Pain, yes. Torture, yes. Death, even. But she’d been pretending to be a boy. The thought of rape hadn’t occurred to her.

Though Billy was considerably smaller than his friend he was equally unkempt and still much larger than Daphne. His cloudy blue eyes darted around the room haphazardly. He looked a bit mad. “Aye, she’s a fine one, just like ye said, Boris.”

“I don’t lie,” Boris answered. “Have you ever known me to lie?”

“I can’t say I has,” Billy replied, drooling a bit from the side of his wide mouth.

Daphne backed away even farther. Her back and hands against the stone, she moved slowly toward the far wall. She only had one knife. She might manage to kill or wound one of them but the other might overpower her. Her heart hammered in her throat. Think. Think.