around her. Before she knew what was going on, she’d been tied up and was being toted like a Christmas tree atop a Bronco.
Her screams for help were just warming up when a blow landed on her skull and everything went dark.
i
Avery’s knuckles had gone numb nearly an hour before.
That didn’t stop him. Keenly aware of Prachett’s presence on the other side of the cottage door, he kept up his movements. Every blow, in his mind’s eye, landed straight in the man’s face.
How dare the bastard go after Leah? How dare he use her for his own gain? Avery grunted as he gave the sand bag a body blow.
And is that any different from what you’ve done to her?
“I love her.” His words were lost in the sound of the ropes overhead creaking wildly as the bag swung.
He loved her, but he could not protect her. Gripping the bag, he rested his head against it, his breaths coming quick and heavy.
Prachett had her. If Avery lost to Emersen in the morning, he’d kill her. Steel lined Avery’s backbone as he stood. He could not let that happen.
Damning the consequences, he pulled his shirt over his sweat—
dampened skin. Prachett and his men had brought him here to fight, and so he would. He would fight, and he would win, no matter the cost. His body would suffer, but that did not matter.
Leah mattered.
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through the door and go to find her, he knew that would
only cause her more harm.
He’d play this game to win, and once he had her safe, he would break the men who’d dared lay a hand on her, bone by bloody bone. And Prachett? Prachett he would kill.
i
Sounds swirled around Leah, penetrating the painful haze that surrounded her brain. She groaned and tried her best to put her hand against her aching head. It felt like she’d drunk about three cases of beer and then had a Dance Dance Revolution competition. She hurt everywhere, and dammit, why couldn’t she move her hands?
Oh. She was still trussed in some kind of burlap sack.
Lovely.
“Help!” Her scream was only half the volume she’d intended, because the sound of her own voice echoed through her skull with a ricocheting pain.
“The liddle bird’s awake.” A rough male voice with a course accent came from somewhere above her. She scowled in the darkness of her cloth prison. Of course the shitheads were still there. She’d be smart about this and be quiet and obedient until they untied her. Then she’d go all Kill Bill on their asses.
Leah bit her lip and moaned as another pain speared her head. What had they hit her with, a freaking bat?
“Oy, darlin’, you can’t be comfortable like that. Let me ’elp.”
Her gorge rose as a broad, sweaty hand rubbed up her calf to rest behind her knee. This wasn’t happening.
There was no way she was tied up and helpless. Nothing bad would happen to her.
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Even though she tried her damnedest to block out the reality, the touch on her leg became more and more insistent. She pulled away, but her bonds made moving more than an inch or two nearly impossible.
Another voice joined the first, and then Leah knew real fear.
“Untie ’er, then we can ’ave us a lark.” The sour smell of cheap alcohol drifted through the weave of the bag, and Leah coughed. Drips of the stuff trickled down her nose and chin.
“You bloomin’ idiot, don’t lose all me brandy!”
“The chit was thirsty,” the second man laughed.
“Untie ’er legs, at least. I’ve a mind to get between ’em.”
Leah gagged.
The hand drifted down to her ankles, and the first rope loosened. She fought the urge to stretch, to help restore the circulation in her feet. She had to keep still until they untied her more. Her chances wouldn’t be good then, but they’d be a helluva lot better than they were at the moment.
The knot on the next rope must have been tangled, because it took them several moments to loosen it. Leah used the time to think.
What had happened to Lady Chesterfield and the duke? She should be really pissed at herself for wandering down on that dark path in the garden, but right then, all she could think about was getting out of there and seeing Avery again. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes as pain needled the bottoms of her feet. The circulation’s painful restoration opened the floodgates, and her silent tears quickly changed to sobs.
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fallen through that mirror, she’d been determined to
go about things her way. And she’d been wrong every fucking time. When was she going to learn to think before she tossed herself face-first into everything? Life wasn’t a storybook adventure, and bad shit happened.