The Irresistible Rogue (Playful Brides #4)(68)

“Billy?” she asked. “Is that your name? Billy?”

“Aye.” Billy nodded.

“What are you doing working with these Russians, Billy? Why would you turn against your own countryfolk?”

Billy wiped at his mouth. “Aye, don’t think ye can talk to me about loyalty and kinship, me lady.” He sneered. “I was wounded in the army and got nothin’ from me country. Not even a kick in the teef. I works fer who pays me best now. That’s wot I do. And if there’s a bit o’ fun ta be had whilst I’m at it, like a tumble wit ye, I’m all for it.”

Daphne swallowed hard and continued her crawl toward the far wall. Clearly Billy wasn’t going to be talked out of this.

Billy’s wild eyes tracked her movement. They devoured her. “Where do ye think ye’re going, me lady?”

“There’s no place to run to,” Boris added with a laugh that could curdle milk.

Billy advanced on her, his arms wide as if he would catch her if she tried to stand and run around him. It would have been no use at any rate because Boris’s girth filled the doorway. He laughed and rubbed his hands together as Billy stalked toward her.

“Tell me something,” Daphne asked, attempting to stall and wanting to know the answer.

“Wot’s that?” Billy asked, grinning at her through rotten teeth.

“Did either of you … were either of you there when my brother, the Earl of Swifdon, was murdered?”

Billy laughed. “Can’t say I did the honors, me lady, but I surely was part o’ the gang wot turned him over to those Frenchies.”

Daphne stood up, her back against the far wall now, and clenched her jaw. Just as she suspected. These two men were part of the group responsible for Donald’s death. She hated them with every part of her body, mind, and spirit.

Billy continued to slowly advance on her and Daphne swallowed hard again. The closer he got, the stronger his smell. He reeked of sweat and rotting garbage. She pressed the back of her arm across her mouth, fighting against the bile in her throat. Billy jumped at her and caught her arm, pulling her down onto the dirty floor with him. She screamed and bucked, trying desperately to push him off her. He pinned one of her arms above her head and began unbuttoning his filthy trousers with the other. “Don’t squirm so much, yer highness. It’ll be better for both of us.”

This was it. She might only kill one of them but she had to try. With her free arm, she reached into her boot for the knife. Billy was too preoccupied with his trousers to notice. The hulking mass didn’t seem to, either.

Billy sprang free, his erection pressing against Daphne’s leg. She fought her gag even harder. He yanked at Daphne’s breeches, ripping the material at her waist.

“No!” she cried.

He lifted his arm and cracked her across the cheek. Her head snapped to the side and hit hard against the floor. Pain ripped through her face and neck. She gritted her teeth, turned her head, and curled her fingers around the hilt of the knife. She lifted the weapon in her hand and pushed him off her body with all her might. Billy fell to the side, off kilter because of his fight to remove her breeches. Daphne took one last deep breath and plunged the knife into his chest, just below his left shoulder, right where his heart would be. Blood spurted, dark and hot, out of the wound in his chest, coating Daphne’s hands and splattering across her face and clothing.

“Gah!” Billy screamed and crumpled to the floor while blood continued to pour out of the large wound around the knife.

“She’s kilt me!” he cried.

The hulking mass’s eyes went wide, then they narrowed into beady black coals. “Damn you, bitch.”

Daphne watched in horror as Boris advanced toward her with murder in his eyes. The giant was going to kill her. Rape her first, then kill her. She knew it, but at least she’d taken one of the two. She’d go to her grave knowing she’d taken a life for her brother’s. And Billy was indeed dying. Blood trickled from his lips and he gurgled. He’d propped himself against the wall, staring unseeing into the room, each breath more shallow than the last.

“That was for my brother,” she spat at the dying man.

Billy made no other sound.

“I’m going to snap your neck after I’ve had my way with you,” the hulking mass snarled.

Daphne sprang to her feet and faced off with him. “You’ll have to catch me first.” She leaped over to Billy and yanked the knife from his chest with one solid move. More blood sprayed onto her breeches. Billy’s eyes drained of life until they were completely blank.

She turned back to Boris, the knife clutched in her slick, bloody fist. The weapon may have given the giant pause, but not for long. He lunged at her. She aimed the knife at his heart but it slid into his shoulder instead. Groaning in pain, he tackled her to the ground, nearly breaking her back. She struggled for air. She would suffocate if he stayed on her for any length of time.

“No!” she screamed, but the knife was still lodged in his shoulder, pinned between them. She couldn’t retrieve it. Her wrist was pinned to the floorboards. It felt as if it might snap.

“Aargh.” With an unearthly cry, Boris groaned and collapsed atop her, his bulbous face falling to the side of her neck.

Daphne’s eyes went wide. What had just happened?

The next thing she knew, the giant body atop hers was pushed over and fell away and Rafe was standing there, breathing heavily. His hands on his hips. She glanced over at the hulk’s body. The handle of a knife was standing up in the back of his neck.