“What’d ye have in that bag?” The smelly boor stared down at Johanna. Breath as sickening as the stench wafting from his body struck her full in the face. Making no effort to hide her disgust, she pressed a hand over her nose and mouth.
“It makes no difference to you.” Ross spoke before Johanna could muster a reply.
Munro cocked a thick brow. “Ye expect me t’believe there’s nothin’ more than a bluidy book in there? Me ma didnae birth a fool.”
Ross’s eyes narrowed. “You will be fairly compensated.”
If the big man took note of the anger brewing beneath the gentleman’s tautly controlled demeanor, he ignored the warning. “We need t’be sure we get our share. I got a bad feelin’ about this.”
Tension pulled Ross’s handsome visage tight. “Do your job and keep your mouth shut.”
Munro snorted. “That fine suit of clothes ye’ve got dinna make ye a better gent than me.”
“If you can’t find a way to shut that hole in your face, I will.” Ross’s fingers clamped over Johanna’s wrist even as he kept his attention on the big man. “You were hired to drive. Not talk.”
Munro offered another derisive snort and threw open the carriage door. “If ye’ve a mind t’make a fool of Angus Munro, ye will regret it.”
Johanna tugged up her skirts to her shins and placed one foot on the carriage step. The big man’s leering gaze riveted to her stocking-covered calf. The uncouth barbarian nearly slobbered at the sight.
Ross snatched the oaf’s flat-brimmed cap from his head and thwacked it against his thick skull. “You’re not getting paid to look. Get on with it.”
Munro extracted his hat from the gentleman’s hands and placed it on his head. “Step inside, lass,” he said, the cockiness stripped from his booming voice.
Johanna froze. The sole of one shoe rooted to the pavement, even as her other foot balanced on the step. Her heart thudded a wild cadence, each beat frantic as a deer bolting from a hunter’s sights. Once she was inside this luxurious prison, she’d be at the mercy of these men. What would stop them from taking the satchel and leaving her lifeless body in some godforsaken spot? What would become of Laurel then?
“Get in,” Munro said, harsher this time. “Or should I pick ye up and put ye there? Maybe ye’d like that.”
Revulsion shuddered through her, so pronounced she felt sure it rippled her clothing along the length of her spine. She’d give this bastard no excuse to manhandle her. But she would not cower at his crude attempt at intimidation.
She cast a scathing glance over her shoulder. “If you touch me, you will find my knee firmly embedded in your bollocks.”
Ross laughed, coarse and surprisingly hearty. “I do believe she means it, mate. No sense rushing her. Miss Templeton will come along with us.” He paused and gave a little cough. “Unless she doesn’t give a shilling for her niece’s future.”
Johanna lowered herself from the step and met his hardened eyes. “What guarantee do I have that this is not a ruse? How can I be certain you represent the man who holds my niece?”
“You desire proof?”
“Yes.” Amazing, how the small word weighted her tongue.
“You try my patience.” He shot his hulking partner a glance. “Munro, show it to her.”
An ugly smile pulled at the big man’s mouth. He dug in his pocket, producing a pale, thin cloth wadded into a ball. His lips widened as he peeled away the fabric.
“Oh my.” Johanna’s pulse hammered against her ears. She reached for the single chestnut-brown curl, still tied in the emerald lace ribbon she’d woven through Laurel’s hair that last morning in London. In the lamplight, the tendril gleamed hints of copper. She longed to touch it, that single, tangible link to her sweet-natured niece.
Munro snatched it away. “The wee lass howled like a banshee. Ye’d have thought we took her ear.” His fingers closed around the cloth, and he shoved the trophy into his jacket. “Maybe next time, we will.”
“As I see it, you’ve got two choices,” Ross said, low and coolly menacing. “You can come with us now. Peaceful, like the lady you are. Or Munro will pry that case from your pretty hands and my associate and I will be on our way. We’ll transport the brat back to London. Little chit like her won’t take up much space in a trunk. Especially not once she’s in pieces.”
The lack of anger in his tone made his words all the more terrifying. The taste of horror was bitter against Johanna’s tongue. Surely these men would not commit such violence against a child.
“Think about it carefully, Miss Templeton. The child’s blood will be on your hands.”
Behind the ruthless cur, lightning slashed across the sky as if to underscore his threat. A clap of thunder roared against Johanna’s ears. A cell-deep warning screamed at her to run from these vile men.
But they’d offered her no alternative. If she refused to go along with their scheme, they’d take what they wanted and her niece would die.