Run Wild (Escape with a Scoundrel) - By Shelly Thacker Page 0,57
didn’t come from fear. He was even more powerful now than he had been six years ago. Samantha’s untimely demise had left him in full, legal possession of every last farthing of her inheritance. He had been financially comfortable before, but she had made him wealthy.
She posed no threat to him. She knew the truth about his taste for young girls, but that didn’t bother him in the least. Who would believe the mad, desperate ravings of a wanted felon?
No, he was trembling with excitement. With anticipation.
“Hibbert? Hibbert, are you all right?”
Prescott nodded, realizing that his friends were staring at him. “Yes, yes. Forgive me, gentlemen, I’m... I’m overcome.” He sat back in his chair, fanning himself. “To learn that my niece is alive after all these years...” He took a drink, felt the brandy burning through him, almost as hot as the blood lust sizzling through his veins. “It’s quite a surprise.”
“We knew you’d want to know right away,” Lloyd said. “So that proper precautions can be taken.”
“Precautions?” Prescott echoed.
“She may be a danger to you, Hibbert,” Eaton pointed out. “She’s an outlaw. And two marshalmen have been killed.”
“The fugitives are being hunted down even as we speak.” Lloyd looked concerned. “But if she somehow manages to make her way here to London...”
“Yes, I see what you mean.” Prescott rose from his desk, pacing over to the window, looking out at the moonlit city. She wouldn’t come to London. She wouldn’t dare. “Indeed, precautions must be taken, but not the kind of precautions you mean.”
He doubted the lawmen of Staffordshire would be lenient with her. And it would be a cruel twist of fate to have his revenge snatched away just when it was so close at hand.
He turned to look at his friends. “She must not be harmed, gentlemen.”
“That’s very Christian of you, Hibbert,” Eaton said with an expression of disbelief, “considering she tried to kill you.”
“You seem to have forgotten that she’s quite mad.” Prescott thought it best to start reminding everyone of his version of events, lest anyone take her seriously when she started spouting her version. “My two nieces never recovered from their parents’ tragic death,” he explained sadly, glancing at the marshalmen. “Despite all we did for them, the younger girl, Jessica, took ill the first winter and died. After that, the older girl, Samantha, went quite mad. She tried to kill me one night with a knife. And she escaped before I could have her committed.”
“She did fight like a madwoman when we tried to lock her up in gaol,” the portly marshalman said. “Kicked and bit and swore at us like a she-devil.”
“There, you see?” Prescott nodded. “She belongs in an asylum, where she can’t harm anyone. Where she can be properly cared for.” He turned toward the window again, looking at his own reflection. “Somewhere private. Discreet.” A slow smile crept across his mouth. “I know just the place.”
“So how shall we proceed?” Lloyd asked.
“We thought you’d want to keep this a quiet, family matter,” Eaton said. “Wouldn’t want any embarrassment. No one outside this room need even know she’s your relation.”
“No.” Prescott shook his head, turning to address them using his best courtroom voice. “On the contrary. Gentlemen, it is my sworn duty to protect the people of England. If this Delafield girl is indeed my niece, we must bring her in and quickly. In fact, I shall go to Staffordshire at once to join the search personally.” He looked at the two marshalmen. “If your men kill the male fugitive, so be it, but I want the girl alive. Do you understand me?” His fingers tightened around the fragile stem of his glass. “I want her taken alive and brought to me.”
Chapter 13
Flames. Burning. He had always known it would end like this. In hell. He was in hell. He opened his mouth and could not cry out, opened his eyes and saw only darkness. A cavern of darkness with dancing flames all around, a blur of fire and agony. He shut his eyes against the truth he did not want to see. He was burning alive, could feel the devil’s touch searing him through, body, bones, soul all ablaze. Pain without end.
Deeper and deeper he slid into the abyss, unable to fight his own inescapable, eternal damnation. He was falling falling falling into a corrosive pit that swallowed him whole. Pain heat fire. And he knew that the torment would never end never end never never never...