or the faint sound of a horse’s hooves pulling her brother’s carriage down the next block.
Her own steps echoed and she tried to place her feet softly. Light twinkled through closed shutters; only a few front doors were lit with welcoming candles. She left the block where their town house was, turning the corner onto a street that was lined with merchant shops. They were all closed tight against the night. It was darker here; the moonlight guided her.
“Well, now. Look what we have here.”
She gasped, but no sound made it past the hand that clamped over her mouth. It was hard and brutal, pulling her back against a chest. She struggled, kicking and twisting to break free.
“Stop your spitting, it won’t make no difference.”
A sharp blow struck her across her cheek, sending a bright sparkling of stars across her vision. She turned halfway around but didn’t stop her struggle. With space between her and her assailant, she thrust her hand out and smashed her palm into his nose.
“Bloody hell!”
Triumph spread through her, but it was short-lived. Another set of arms gripped her from behind, pulling her arms behind her.
“I’ll teach you some respect.” Another slap hit her face. Pain threatened her vision with darkness. Pulling in a deep breath, she resisted the pull, fighting to remain awake. Leather bit into her wrist as her hands were bound tightly behind her back.
“Sure she’s the right one?” The man behind her asked the question. He reached up and gripped her hair to angle her face toward the moonlight.
“Who else would be scampering down this road right now? Knyvett kept his word, all right.” He stepped up close, breathing his foul breath into her face. The silver moonlight washed over Ronchford’s features, drawing a snarl from her lips. Her panic evaporated, leaving only rage burning inside her. She would not yield to his possession.
“Release me!”
He laughed at her instead. His grubby fingers gripped her chin before boldly stroking down her neck and onto her breasts. Revulsion threatened to choke her.
“I’ve paid a pretty amount to have your brother turn his back. I plan to enjoy what I’ve bought, madam.”
Betrayal burned through her rage. Edmund’s revenge showed in the gloating eyes of the man fondling her. She should have suspected, shouldn’t have leaped at the hope her brother dangled in front of her nose. The king would never have ordered her wed to Ronchford as a means of giving her a proper guardian. Not Ronchford. The man was worse than Edmund. She should have considered the facts, but had been too caught up in the whirl of emotions to think before leaving the town home. Now she was at the mercy of the night and the men that crept through its shadows.
Ronchford looked quite at ease.
“I’m going to enjoy these tits.” He yanked on the buttoned-up doublet she wore, the sturdy wool resisting his efforts to bare her cleavage. Her flesh crawled, revulsion twisting her stomach. She renewed her struggles, franticly twisting and bucking to escape the two men.
They cursed, both men howling with outrage. Surprise flashed through her, her mind finding it hard to believe that she had hurt them with her bucking. But she was suddenly free and didn’t waste time trying to understand how it had happened. With her hands bound behind her, she couldn’t run without stepping on her skirt. She hurried as fast as possible but came up short as another man blocked her path. He was huge. She lifted her face, tilting her chin up to find his face.
“Ye have a habit of finding rough men, Helena. I believe I’ll have to break ye of yer need to wander.”
Relief flooded her, making her knees weak. Her lungs burned, demanding deep gasping breaths.
“Thank heaven.”
“Nay, thank the fact that I am nay a trusting man, lass.”
Hard suspicion edged his voice. Soft steps crunched on the cobblestones behind her. The shapes of Keir’s men materialized from the darkness, the moonlight glittering off the blade of a knife.
“Nay, leave her tied.”
“What? You can’t mean that.”
Keir stepped up closer. She caught a hint of his scent and noticed instantly how clean he smelled compared to Ronchford.
“Oh, I do. It will be all the better for hauling ye off.”
He bent his knees and lowered one shoulder until it was even with her waist. A moment later she was tossed over it like a sack of grain. Her head hung down his back, the blood rushing to it.