Falling for the Marquess - Julianne MacLean Page 0,116

Harold? But Harold would never face a kidnapper on his own. Or would he?

Her father? If only it could be him! But no, he was at home in America. He wasn’t due to arrive in England until the wedding. Perhaps it was a constable. Or a neighbor who had discovered what was happening and had come to her rescue!

Footsteps pounded up the stairs and Adele’s breath caught in her throat. Every particle of her being froze with fear and dread. Was someone here to ravish her? Murder her? Her eyes searched for a weapon, but there was nothing. Nothing but a chair. She picked it up. It was heavy, but she would swing it if she had to.

The lock clicked and the door swung open. Two men walked in. One held a pistol to the other’s head. The one holding the gun was tall and dark and his eyes smoldered with fury. He wore a heavy, black greatcoat that matched his black hair. Adele feared him instantly.

Was he her captor? She had never seen the man in daylight.

“Your name!” he barked.

“Adele Wilson.” It didn’t occur to her to ask why he wanted to know. Or to ask anything at all. All she could do was answer the question because he expected an answer.

In that instant, the other criminal—a short, stocky fellow with rotting teeth and thinning hair—whirled around and grabbed the pistol, lunged forward, and took hold of Adele around the waist. He pressed the cold, steel barrel to her temple. She dropped the chair as fear shot through her. She’d never faced a gun before.

“Now the ransom!” The man’s high-pitched voice revealed his desperation.

For the first time, Adele looked fixedly at the other man—the dark, wild one—and understood that he was her rescuer.

He held up his hands in a gesture that invited calm, but it wasn’t easy for Adele to relax because his dark eyes and windblown black hair gave him the look of the devil, or something worse. Masculine to the core, rough around the edges, he looked as if he’d been traveling for three days straight and hadn’t taken the time to shave or bathe or even sleep, because he’d been hell-bent on reaching this house.

Who was he? Where had he come from?

“Harm her and you will die,” he said.

His English accent caught her off guard, for he didn’t have the look of a polite English gentleman—at least not the type she’d ever met in New York. This man was pure, unleashed aggression.

“Or you can take the ransom and run,” he continued. “I recommend the latter.”

Adele felt the other man’s grip tighten about her waist. She sucked in a breath.

“You won’t let me leave,” her kidnapper said shakily.

Her rescuer stepped out of the way of the door. “I will let you leave when you let the lady go. But be quick about it because my patience is dwindling fast.”

The man pressed the pistol harder against the side of Adele’s head. “I don’t believe you will let me go.”

Paralyzing fear twisted around her heart. This man was not going to simply walk away. Why should he risk them following?

By the dark calculating look in her rescuer’s eyes, Adele sensed he was thinking the very same thing.

In an instant, survival instinct took over. Adele dropped to the floor and sank her teeth into the man’s thigh. While he screamed out in pain, her rescuer dashed forward and propelled the man to the wall, where they smacked into it, hard. They wrestled for a few seconds, both grunting as they tried to gain control of the pistol.

It would have been prudent for Adele to run for safety, but some other reflex took over. She darted at the pair of them and leaped onto the shorter man’s back. He swung around and threw her to the floor, then aimed the pistol at her heart.

“Damn you!” Her rescuer tackled the man just as he fired. The noise was deafening, the pain shocking. Adele grabbed hold of her thigh and curled forward.

The two men rolled around on the floor until her rescuer swung the handle of the gun and struck his foe on the head. The man’s body went still, while thunder rumbled in the distance.

Clutching her throbbing leg, Adele stared numbly at the two of them.

Her rescuer looked up. “You’re shot.”

“Yes,” she rasped.

He crawled across the floor and without so much as a second’s hesitation, tossed up her skirt.

Adele leaned back on her hands, trying not to show her sudden ridiculous sense