Passionately Yours (Hellions of High Street 3)

“God bless ye.” His boots scuffed against her skirts as he leaned into her.

Biting her lip, Caro tried to edge around him. But a steel point suddenly pricked against her chest.

“Not so fast,” he whispered. “Come with me, and quiet like, or my friend will hurt yer companion.”

She darted a look back at the grove and saw another shabby figure loitering among the trees.

“What—” she began.

“Shut yer mummer and do as yer told. Yer brother may be a titled toff, but right now it’s me wot’s giving the orders.” The man shoved her forward, keeping one arm around her shoulders, and the knife pressed up against her ribcage. “March.”

He thought she was Isobel?

Casting off all thoughts of screaming or struggling, she bowed her head and meekly followed orders, hoping her masquerade would hold up until they were well away from the Gardens.

Alec would be frantic with fear if Isobel were abducted.

And besides, whatever the ruffians had in mind, she had a better chance of escaping from them than Isobel did. An eccentric upbringing had given the Sloane sisters an arsenal of unladylike skills, including an expertise in lock-picking, knot-tying and handling a pistol. Anna was the better shot, but Caro prided herself on foot speed and agility at climbing obstacles.

Thayer—for she was sure it was Thayer who had planned the abduction—was in for a rude awakening.

I have yearned for a swashbuckling adventure, and it appears that I have got it.

With Isobel free from Thayer’s clutches, Alec would be…

No, she wouldn’t think of Alec right now.

Up ahead, waiting just across the canal bridge was a nondescript carriage with dark draperies drawn closed behind the small glass-paned window. Despite her resolve, Caro felt a burble of panic well up in her throat as they approached and her captor reached out and yanked the door open.

It was awfully dark inside.

“In ye go.”

After hesitating for just an instant, Caro steeled her nerve and climbed into the vehicle without protest. Her captor followed on her heels, the knifepoint now tickling against her spine.

A moment later, the springs rocked again, and a second man joined them. “Heh, heh, heh, that was easy as plucking a chick from a dovecote.” He rapped on the trap and the vehicle lurched into motion.

“Aye, easy pickings,” agreed his cohort with a nasty laugh. “The cove that hired us will pay us handsomely fer His Lordship’s sister.”

As Caro once again considered the confusion, over her identity, an idea suddenly took shape in her head.

“He’s going to hand over the money when we make the exchange, isn’t he?”

“Ye think I’m daft—of course he is.” She heard the sound of her captor tapping the blade against his calloused palm. “It’s just a few miles to the inn on the north road, and then we shall be rich as lords.”

“Lords! Heh, heh, heh. I shall drink to that with The Black Duck’s finest ale.”

Thankful for the hazy gloom, Caro pressed herself deeper into the corner and shifted the hood to muffle her face.

The carriage rattled on, the cobblestones of town giving way to hard-packed earth of the country roads. It seemed to take forever to travel the short distance, but at last she felt the wheels slow and cut a sharp turn before rolling to a halt.

She began to sob softly into the folds of wool.

A moment later the door wrenched open. “You have her?” growled a low voice.

Thayer. The swine.

“Have a look for yourself,” answered her captor.