She saw something flicker in the depths of Sayers’ eyes but couldn’t say what it was. Whatever it was made him hesitate because, rather than swipe the blade across her throat as she expected, he lifted a brow and merely pressed it deeper. She felt the sharp sting of pain, and the warm trickle of blood slide down her cleavage, but she refused to budge. Instead, she kept her gaze locked with his. While her fingers fumbled for something on the table she could use, she found a small object that was hard and heavy. It would do. The magistrate, openly sweating now, didn’t move or take his eyes off the blood the blade was drawing. He, therefore, didn’t see what Marguerite was picking up until she threw the ink pot into Sayers’ face. At the same time, she ducked away from the blade and swiped something else off the table to throw at the man.
Sayers didn’t see the book aimed at his head because he was too busy wiping ink out of his eyes. His curse was loud when it struck his temple. Pleased with her results, Marguerite threw another book at him, along with two scrolls, and a pot of pens. Then, while his attention was diverted, she picked up the cane’s blade and pointed it at him, unaware of the candle she had knocked over in her haste to find a make-shift weapon.
“If you know what is good for you, you will stay where you are,” she snarled.
In that moment, the click of the door behind her drew her attention. She looked over at the doorway and almost wept with relief to see Joe. He was battered and bruised but at least he was still alive.
Joe studied the chaos of the room, the stunned magistrate, and Sayers, but couldn’t tell from their faces if he was already too late. He levelled a glare on Sayers that was pure evil, so much so that he took a cautious step back.
“Have you married him, Marguerite?” he demanded. “Did you?”
“No, I wouldn’t. Never,” she assured him.
Joe studied the blood on her neck and swore, but turned his attention to the man now crouching on the floor, one hand on the pocket of his cloak.
“Touch it and I will shoot,” he snarled.
Sayers froze. Joe knew from the look on his face that the crook was furious, but he didn’t argue.
“Get out of here,” Joe ordered Marguerite as she skirted around the crook and raced toward him.
He shoved her out of the room behind him, seconds before Sayers’ first shot splintered the doorframe beside Joe’s head. Joe slammed the door closed and knew they had precious moments before the coachman would be upon them. Shoving her roughly toward the back of the house, he ushered her out of the back door and down the alley that led to the main street.
“We need to keep moving,” Joe murmured.
“No,” Marguerite snapped. “We need to follow him.”
Joe snorted at that. “There is no earthly possibility I am ever going to allow you to go near that man again.”
To Marguerite’s amazement, he hauled her against him and kissed her. Unlike any of the kisses they had shared before, this was a branding. There was no gentle persuasion of the lips. This was hard, heavy, and commanding. It left her in no doubt that he wanted her in the rawest way possible, and would deal with any qualms she might have about their union in good time. It left her in little doubt that there would eventually be a union.
When he released her, Marguerite stood perfectly still and absorbed the wild rush of giddy delight that swept through her. In spite of the danger surrounding them, she grinned at him. It lit her face up in a way that made him blink in amazement. He smiled back. He then began to pepper kisses down her neck. She nuzzled against him, revelling in this new, and entirely unexpected, connection they shared. They didn’t have long, just a few seconds, but they made the most of it. It was the confirmation both of them needed that they weren’t alone in riding this rolling wave of romantic confusion which left them wary, yet happy, and unable to resist temptation.
Marguerite couldn’t be happier but knew that there were many obstacles they had to overcome before they could truly learn about each other. Right now, they had to find Joe’s friends and her father.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“That is his carriage, isn’t it?” she whispered when the sound of rumbling wheels broke them apart. They both turned to watch Sayers carriage turn out of the road away from them.
Joe nodded. “I am afraid so.”
The faint smell of smoke began to filter through the night air. Joe suspected that the magistrate’s house was ablaze by now. But if the man lost his home, it didn’t really matter because he was going to spend the rest of his life behind bars.
“Where is he going?” she asked only to find herself nearly yanked off her feet by the tight hold Joe had on her wrist when she went to follow the carriage.
“We can’t go after him,” Joe said firmly.
“Yes, we can,” Marguerite snorted. “Think about it. He hasn’t succeeded-again. He has to go back either to Marcus, or Ben, or my father now. It is highly unlikely he is just going to go home don’t you think?”
While he wanted to go after Sayers, he didn’t want Marguerite in any more danger. The crook was going to be angry now and would be even more ruthless.
“We can’t chase after it. I barely caught up with it last time and I am not encumbered with skirts like you are,” Joe reasoned.
“Then hail a carriage.”
Joe sighed when Marguerite raced to the opposite end of the road and spoke to the driver of a carriage for hire that was passing. Joe watched the man nod and then trot his horse down the road toward him.
“Damn it,” he grumbled.