Pretending otherwise hadn’t done her any favors.
The rope knotted at her knees finally loosened. Panic welled in Leah’s throat, and even though her feet and legs still prickled with the pain of the fresh blood flow, she kicked out as hard as she could. She could cry later.
She had to live now.
Her heels connected with someone’s face. The sharp crack of the blow made her smile.
“You goddamn bitch.” Something hit the floor. She hoped it was a mouthful of his teeth. Bastard.
A blow glanced off her shoulder, and she jerked in pain. She didn’t regret her rebellion, though. She’d do it again. She wouldn’t stop as long as there was breath in her body.
Four hands rubbed along her legs as she kicked out.
They gripped around her ankles, stilling her motions.
Panic sped her heart and she thrashed as hard as she could. But there were two of them, and only one of her.
It didn’t look good.
“What are ye doin’?” And angry voice with a Scottish sounding accent rang through the room. It was kind of familiar, but where had she heard it before? The grip on her legs disappeared, and she clamped her thighs together as tightly as she could.
“Havin’ a bit of fun, s’all,” the first man mumbled. The second man’s reply was garbled, sort of far away. Leah strained to understand it, but the bag muffled her perception.
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The conversation continued on the other side of the room, and Leah huffed her frustration to cover her fear.
It was much easier to be pissed than it was to be scared.
After her one lapse into desperate sobs, she wasn’t interested in trying that again.
A few minutes later, a door slammed shut and silence reigned. Relief soaked through her. Inwardly thanking the weirdly familiar Scotsman, she pulled at her bonds.
They held fast.
Time dragged along like a two-legged dog. The tingling in her feet and legs abated finally. The alcohol dried on her face. The sharp ache in her head reduced itself to a dull throb centered just above her left ear. She was hungry. She had to pee. The hope that someone had followed them to wherever the hell they were dissipated as the minutes— Hours? Days?— passed.
She had a lot of time to think, and she used it. She thought of Muriel and Lady Chesterfield and their many kindnesses to her. She thought of Jamie and Ella back home, and wished she could give them big hugs and giggle at Monty Python movies again. She thought of Pawpaw, and the tears flowed fast and freely. Would she ever see him again? Would she ever be able to tell him about Avery?
And the valet who’d chased her down and stolen her heart? She thought of him most of all.
If she survived this, the first thing she’d do is tell him she loved him. It couldn’t wait another second. He had to know that he meant everything to her.
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Twenty-Seven The next day dawned grim and gray, like Avery’s mood. He rose early, energy humming through his muscles. The sooner he beat Emersen, the sooner he could rescue Leah.
Leah.
She was in danger because of him.
His anger simmered just below the surface, fueling the fire in his muscles as he stretched in the ring. Prachett’s men, including one Lachlan Mackenzie, stable master to the Duke of Granville, milled nearby. Avery gave Mackenzie a dark smile. He knew where the betrayal had come from now and would recompense him accordingly once Leah was safe again.
The crowds came. Fine lords and ladies, common laborers, the young, the old— they filled in the gaps at the sides of the square, elbowing and crowing to get closer to see the bouts. The first match lasted near two hours.
Cribb and Gulley pounded one another until the blood flowed like wine. Cribb was the victor, when Gulley lay in the dust and did not rise.
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on his jailers, waiting for an opening. One never came.
He’d have to fight his way out through his opponent.
“Emersen’s a tough ’un,” Jenks said as Gulley’s men cleared the unconscious man from the ring. “His guard is high, and he’s lightnin’ quick. Best to hit him low and often if you’re to have a chance, lad.”
“Aye, and mind your feet. Be light and fast, he’s no’
used to that,” Tarley chimed in. “Won’t be easy, but you can win if you pull your head from your arse.”
Avery took the jibe without comment. Jenks and Tarley didn’t know about Prachett’s manipulation of both Avery and the matches. They only knew that Avery had lost two matches he could have easily won.
“I will do my best. You have my word.”
Avery stepped into the ring to the hisses and jeers of the crowd. Emersen was the clear favorite. That was what Prachett counted on.
Avery stood at the line and nodded to his opponent.