Unless she was much mistaken, she had been kidnapped by Ballantyne.
It took every ounce of her fortitude she possessed to remain still, and calm while she thought. She was so very cold. She wanted to shiver but daren’t move.
“You had better open your eyes, my dear. I know you are awake.” A rough masculine voice sing-songed so close to her ear that she instinctively cringed in fear.
Immediately her eyes snapped open, and she looked into the iciest blue eyes she had ever seen in her life. So pale, they were almost white.
She swallowed the scream that rose in her throat and stared back blankly.
“Well hello there. Amelia, isn’t it? I don’t believe we have met,” Ballantyne whispered, running his eyes down her lasciviously.
Amelia knew without looking that they had removed her clothing, leaving her in nothing but a whisper-thin shift. A slow blush stole through her cheeks at the masculine interest in his gaze as he eyed the dark circles of her breasts for several moments before moving down the rest of her slowly.
“We will have fun with this one.” He glanced slyly at his companion standing on the opposite side of the bed.
Amelia looked at the tall, gaunt man standing beside the bed, and knew instinctively this was the man Sebastian had called Rat.
He was almost as gaunt as Ballantyne. Tallish but thin, his face was heavily pockmarked from lack of washing and a lifetime of dissolution. Amelia felt bile rise in her throat as the thought of Martha’s fate rose in her mind.
“We will see if your lord wants you when you have serviced us.” Ballantyne drew a long knife from the bedside table, and ran it slowly down the middle of her chest between the soft mounds of her breasts.
“You can do what you want to me, but you will never get away with it,” Amelia snapped, refusing to allow either man to see how terrified she was. “Sebastian will hunt you down and make you die slowly.”
Ballantyne spat an epithet. “Cavendish isn’t going to bother with the likes of you.” He flicked a finger across her nipple, watching her closely for her reaction. She did nothing but blink.
“My father will hunt you down if you harm so much as a hair on my head,” she whispered, hatred filling her eyes.
“Your father? Do you even know who he is?” Ballantyne scoffed, sliding a hand down across her belly. He laughed when she squirmed against the bonds tying her hands to the bed head.
“Yes, I do know who my father is. He is the Earl of Eastleigh, and has some acquaintances in very high places.” Amelia’s voice was cold contempt. “He will use every one at his disposal to ensure you die painfully.”
Ballantyne paused and stared suspiciously at her. “Eastleigh?”
“Yes, why do you think he is at Tingdale?” Amelia glared at both men in disgust. She knew Ballantyne was thrown when he glanced at Rat.
“Do you know of this?” he spat, glaring at the older man spitefully.
“Nothing, sir,” Rat replied hesitantly, suddenly not so emboldened now he was facing his master’s wrath.
Shaking his head absently, Ballantyne turned back towards h
er.
“It doesn’t matter who sired you, my dear. Even if they do find you, when we have finished, no man will want you.
Amelia screamed as Rat grabbed hold of one knee, yanking it high and wide, while Ballantyne used his body to force open her other leg. Her stomach heaved as she realised what they intended to do to her, and she knew what Martha must have felt in the hours before death.
Her thoughts immediately turned towards Sebastian, and she mentally pleaded with him to find her.
“Boss!”
Ballantyne paused, opening the placket of his breeches at the sudden shout.
“Go and see what they want,” he snarled, watching as Rat disappeared through the door. It was enough of a distraction for Amelia to lift her leg, and kick Ballantyne hard on the side of his head.
He flew off the end of the bed, and landed on the floor with a thump.
Amelia was still squirming against the bonds, trying to loosen them enough to slip her arm free, when her head was suddenly yanked back as Ballantyne grabbed a fistful of hair, and shoved his face close to hers.