Reckless Desire (Saved By Desire 6)

She looked from one man to the other but neither appeared to move. The Count, while yet to answer, was studying Jeremy-Thor-closely.

“Neither man is going to fight against anyone else for my hand because I wouldn’t marry either of you. No matter what you threaten me with, I shall say no,” she added for good measure. To her dismay, her declaration had no effect on the men whatsoever.

“You do, and I shall have you put behind bars,” she snarled.

She was well aware that her voice lowered to a growl as she stared hard at the Count and watched his brows lift. He looked a little stymied for a moment. It was as though he had never been spoken to like that by a woman in his life and wasn’t quite sure what to do about it. Before he could gather himself, she turned a lethal glare on the man beside her and spun on her heel.

“If you lift a hand to anybody in such a brutal manner, I shall never speak to you again,” she snapped, aware that after this she most probably wouldn’t ever see him again anyway.

Strangely, that hurt. More than it should, it left her deeply disturbed, and at a loss to explain the slightly bereft feeling she had never expected to feel. Still, if he was the kind of brute to reduce himself to such boorish behaviour, she wanted nothing to do with him.

“Oh! You two deserve each other,” she snapped when neither man sought to appease her. Without saying another word, she stormed across the room to the French doors. Thankfully, they were unlocked and didn’t hinder her. She swept somewhat regally out of the room and, slammed the door behind her with a resounding bang. Its dull thud was no less satisfying than being able to get out into the open air and savour the crisp evening. It was the first moment of freedom she had had all evening and it was wonderful – for a little while at least.

“I am not going back in there,” she muttered to herself as she ran down a small flight of stone steps and came to a halt on the lawn.

She hadn’t stopped to consider just how dark it would be in the gardens, or how isolated she was from the rest of the guests who were on the opposite side of the house. Silence settled over her. She could hear nothing but the heavy thundering of her own heartbeat. Before she could decide what to do, her attention was drawn to two men, who appeared out of the darkness of the deepest shadows at the far end of the lawn. Her eyes widened when she realised they were heading for her.

It was then she realised that, yet again, she had made a massive mistake.

CHAPTER FOUR

Even in the darkness, she knew they were less than reputable. From the furtive way they kept looking around as they approached her she suspected that they were muggers.

Muggers? How can they be muggers? We are in one of the most reputable neighbourhoods in London. If they are not muggers, what are they doing in the garden? What do they want with me?

Her first thought was that they had something to do with the Count, and were there to spirit her away on his orders, but that was ridiculous-wasn’t it?

She swallowed harshly and threw a fleeting glance at the still-closed French doors. To rush back in there would leave her no better off. Backing away, she lifted her skirts but, when she turned around she was faced with the same impenetrable blackness she had experienced in the darkened room earlier. This time, though, Jeremy wasn’t there to help her. For a second, she almost wished he was.

Still, she couldn’t stay where she was and allow the men to catch her. She had no choice but to head around the outer perimeter of the house and find another way back into the house somehow. Suddenly, the jangle of a harness nearby drew her attention. Her gaze flew to a long row of low buildings to her left. The stables stood a long, dark shape in the distance, a faint shadow of mercy that would save her from ruination-if only she could get there.

Without hesitation, she raced toward it, horrifyingly aware of the heavy pounding of boots thundering behind her. The buildings seemed so very far away and strangely seemed to grow increasingly distant the more she ran. Her lungs burned, her legs ached fiercely, but she daren’t give up. To do so would have dire consequences for her future and she knew it. She quickly turned away from the tumultuous thoughts of what might happen to her should she be caught. The prospect of the awful things that might happen to her pushed her to dig deep for that last bit of energy and keep running.

“Help!” she screamed when a wild flurry of movement in the periphery of her vision drew her attention. Horrified at just how close they were, she gasped. “Help!”

Before she got more than a few more feet, her arm was captured in a ruthless hold and she was yanked off-balance. Her scream was instinctive and unchecked as she was swung around bodily in a wild arc and landed with a heavy thump on her knees. From he

r position on the ground, she glanced up and saw one of the vagabonds loom toward her, his beef hand stretching toward her in a menacing claw.

Her mouth opened. She tried to scream again, but no sound came out. It didn’t need to, though, because, in that second, the vagabond was suddenly yanked backward. His eyes widened in shock as he was propelled through the air and disappeared into the dark. She couldn’t see him but heard the heavy bang of his body hitting the ground.

Scrambling to her feet, she peered at the shadows and watched the second man double over at the waist with a grunt before a heavy fist crashed into him. His head snapped back, and he too fell to the ground.

She turned to the man responsible for this menacing miracle.

“You?” she whispered in stunned surprise.

She wasn’t sure whether she should be relieved, worried, or horrified. It was difficult to know what to think. Her mind wouldn’t co-operate. She couldn’t think of anything other than she was hugely relieved he wasn’t the Count. She glanced around what she could see of the garden. Unsurprisingly, there was no sign of the Russian who, she suspected, was hiding inside somewhere.

“You have to come with me,” Joe ordered.

“Where are we going?” she demanded. She teetered on the balls of her feet, unsure whether he could be trusted or not. While he had been her hero, her savour, she couldn’t ignore this new, ruthless side she had witnessed.

Could she trust him? Who was he to know how to fight like that?

Whoever he was she knew instinctively that it was unusual for anyone to have those particular fighting skills. So many questions rolled through her mind that she wasn’t sure what to think right now, other than she knew he wasn’t as meek and mild as he purported to be and, no matter how handsome he looked, she shouldn’t trust him until she knew more about him.

Before she could reply, the flutter of something dark by the steps of the house drew her horrified gaze. Like a looming spectre against the night sky, the cloaked figure of the Count swept across the balustrade, to the corner of the building she had been hoping to reach, but he wasn’t racing toward them. He was heading toward the stables.