Sin With a Scoundrel (The Husband Hunters Club 4)

“Mr. Little! Oh thank goodness!”

But in the next instant she realized her joy was premature. This man was not her savior. He was just another of her enemies.

The words spilled out of her aching throat, even though she knew they’d be better left unspoken. “You’re the Captain, not Horace. You’re the Captain, and now you’ll kill me just as you killed Richard’s brother.”

Little stared at her and then threw an order over his shoulder to Sutton. “Get her some water.” Sutton did his bidding, but Little took the water from him and squatted down beside her. Gently he lifted the mug to her lips and held it while she sipped, only then realizing how very thirsty she was. At last she leaned away with a sigh. “Better?” he asked with his familiar smile.

Tina did not smile back, even though it would have been simple to do so, to fall into believing him her friend. Perhaps she could pretend that all of this was a terrible mistake, just like Horace’s arrest, and after a moment all would be explained, and she could go home.

And then she remembered Richard, hurt, perhaps dead, and her eyes filled with tears.

John Little’s brow creased with concern, and he began to search in his waistcoat pocket until he found a handkerchief, using it to dab at her cheeks where the tears were trickling. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he assured her. “I know you’re afraid, but there’s no need to be. And I won’t let Sutton hurt you, either,” he added, with a savage glare in the direction of the other man.

“Don’t untie her,” Sutton warned. “She’s not the helpless creature she pretends to be.”

But John Little ignored his advice and began to saw at Tina’s bindings with a pocketknife he’d also produced from his waistcoat. He was leaning close to her, and she could see how weary he looked and the stubble on his cheeks where he hadn’t shaved. She’d never known Mr. Little less than perfectly turned out, and it was a shock to see him so disheveled.

“Are you hungry?” he asked her kindly.

Tina considered refusing to answer but decided it was better to remain friends with him, outwardly at least. They were being so polite, and yet she remembered the look in his eyes when he’d imagined Margaret’s American drowning in the cold river water.

“Yes, thank you, I am a little hungry.”

“She’s hungry. Get her some bread and cheese,” Little snarled over his shoulder to the other man.

Sutton didn’t argue, and that told Tina a lot about John Little’s true character. He’d hidden that ruthless side behind a bland exterior, but he was a chameleon, someone who could show a different self to fit in with the company he was keeping. Her skin prickled. This man was playing at being her friend, but it wouldn’t last; soon he would turn on her. She must get away from him.

Startled, Tina felt his fingers brush her cheek and she flinched away before she could stop herself. She heard him give a regretful sigh.

“There was a time, Miss Smythe, when I thought I might persuade you to marry me. And then dear Margaret seemed a better prospect, and she was very keen. Oh well, water under the bridge now.”

“What are you going to do to me?”

“What do you think?” He smiled in anticipation. “Come, Miss Smythe, make a guess.”

She didn’t answer, and suddenly she didn’t really want to know, but it was too late. She’d stirred the sleeping beast, and he was leaning over her, his fingers touching her again. “Please don’t,” she begged.

“Why not?” he snapped. “You’re a beautiful woman. Don’t you want men to admire you? I’ve seen the way Eversham looks at you and the way you look at him, so don’t play the innocent with me.”

“They were in bed together,” Sutton interrupted, satisfaction in his voice. “That’s how I managed to get her. Eversham was too busy to notice me until I walloped him.”

Little took his hand away from her skin with a look of distaste. “Shame,” he said. “I don’t like spoiled goods.”

Tina gave him a defiant stare. She’d rather be spoiled by Richard than pampered by a man like John Little, and she wanted him to know it.

Sutton came to hand her a rough metal plate with a hunk of bread and some dry-looking cheese. Tina took it from him and began to eat, to distract herself from their stares and the dread that was growing inside her with each passing moment. She hardly tasted a bite and was surprised when she looked down at the plate to find it empty.

“Good girl,” Little said, taking the plate from her and rising to his feet. “Get some rest now, Miss Smythe. You have my word you are safe for now.”

As if, thought Tina, his promises were worth anything. But she thought it best to give an obedient nod and lie down on the hard settle, closing her eyes. She felt him placing something warm over her, and when she dared to look, saw it was his cloak.

But at least they hadn’t tied her up again although there was no chance of her escaping with the two men in the same room. They sat by the far side, closer to the fire, and she could hear the murmur of their conversation although she couldn’t make out what they said apart from once or twice when one of them raised his voice.

She sensed they were arguing about her. They were trying to decide what to do with her. Sutton would kill her now, but Little still had a conscience about it, perhaps because he knew her. He’d want to at least pretend she wouldn’t suffer.

Tina found herself dozing off despite her efforts to stay awake, and when she woke again the bag was back over her head and her wrists were being bound roughly. She cried out, struggling, but it was useless, and she finally subsided. Someone was tearing holes in the covering over her face, and she was relieved to find they were airholes and, something her captors didn’t realize, they gave her some vision.

“Come now, Miss Smythe, don’t make this difficult.”