Almost.
He wished it had. Wished he hadn’t heard the cynical edge that should never have been part of the lovely Georgina’s words. “Why should I bother, Adam? Dreams aren’t real.”
Her words pressed on his heart. This is what she believed? “You must have dreams.”
“Bah,” she scoffed. “They are for small children.”
No, they weren’t. Dreams represented hope. Even in the direness of his circumstances he clung to something. For to lose hope would mean the end of him. “Wouldn’t you want to see Paris?”
“We’re on the cusp of war with France,” she pointed out. “I hardly think Paris would be my most logical destination.”
He chuckled. Ever practical Georgina. Too practical. He waved his hand. “Fine, Rome then, or Greece? Don’t you want to see the world?”
She lifted her shoulders in a little shrug.
Adam trailed a finger along the satiny smooth skin of her cheek. An almost simultaneous awareness of the intimate nature of their position registered. Adam’s whole body went on alert. His shaft, pressed against the vee of her thighs, hardened. Roll away from her. Set her free. Instead of doing the honorable, gentlemanly thing, he lowered his arms and pressed himself closer to her core.
Her throat bobbed up and down.
Get up. Think of Grace. He’d been too long without a woman. It had been over a year. This all-consuming desire was nothing more than a physical hunger. That was what he told himself.
“Adam?” she whispered.
It was a lie. He wanted her. “Georgina?” That word, her name, emerged as a hoarse groan.
The door flew open and slammed against the wall. In unison, he and Georgina looked toward the entrance of the room.
Adam awkwardly shoved himself to his feet, damning his unsteady legs. “Hunter,” he growled.
Georgina scrambled up to a standing position.
Hunter trained his pistol on Adam, but his enraged eyes were fixed squarely on Georgina.
Adam stiffened as he switched his gaze between his captor and the young maid. It would appear he’d found the bastard’s weakness.
“What are you looking at?” Hunter snapped.
And because it would infuriate the other man, he smiled. A deliberate, knowing smile.
Hunter’s eyes lowered. He murmured, “Leave, Georgina.”
She hesitated.
“Now,” the young traitor roared.
Georgina flinched, but remained rooted to the spot beside Adam.
Adam leaned close to her ear. “Go. I will be fine.”
She chewed her lip. Her soulful, brown eyes clouded with desperation.
Adam gave a small nod.
She turned and marched up to Hunter. “Remember what we agreed upon.”
Hunter frowned, his gaze focused on Georgina as she sailed past him. And Adam was left alone with the beast.
“Did you make love to her?” Hunter’s question gave him pause.
He blinked and stared at the man moving toward him. He stalked Adam, all but springing forward on the balls of his feet to get his hands on him. Never had the name “Hunter” been more apropos. Hunter moved the pistol to his other hand and dealt Adam a swift right hook that would have impressed Gentleman Jackson himself. “I asked you a question.”
Adam flexed his jaw. Christ, that hurt. Still it was an interesting turn of events. As he’d suspected, his captor had feelings for Georgina. Adam shouldn’t have cared but, strangely, he did. Adam assumed a relaxed pose. He walked over to the window and folded his arms across his chest.
“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 fuck 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