Lace & Lead

Chapter 2

He steeled himself to turn around and see the shock and sadness on her face. But when he did, there was something worse there: resignation. Her reaction was a punch to the gut. “You knew?”

She managed a weak smile at him. “You didn’t know my father very well, did you Mr. Taggart? There weren’t a lot of reasons for him to want me safe.” She took a shuddering breath and crossed her arms over her chest. She continued to meet his gaze, her own eyes defiant. “I’m not stupid. I knew you were my best bet to get out of there.”

Douglass chuckled and Kai, who’d just joined them, asked, “What’s going on?”

Peirce couldn’t look away from her. In the two weeks he’d been around her, she’d driven him absolutely insane. She never thought ahead, she always acted on some kind of empathetic instinct that was someday going to get her killed and she was the most passive-aggressively stubborn person he’d ever had to interact with. This new knowledge that she’d played him like a fiddle wasn’t helping either.

Peirce stepped closer to Emmaline. She didn’t move, although he could see the way she was gnawing at her lower lip. “What do you propose we do about this then, Miss Gregson?”

“I have money. I can pay you—”

“You have ten thousand credits lying around?”

Her face blanched, but she stood firm. “I have seven thousand,” she said calmly, “and I’ll pay off the rest.” She reached down and began to lift the hem of her voluminous skirt. Douglass and Kai immediately began protesting and Peirce stepped forward to stop her. She glared daggers at them all and put her hands on her hips. “You thought that was how I was going to pay you off? Not in this lifetime!”

Her hands were trembling, but she reached back down and lifted the hem. Peirce was treated to quite a show of the lace of her white linen drawers and the delicate, scalloped edges of her petticoats as she worked at the seam of the blue fabric. Finally she let out a sound of success and motioned him closer. A quick flash of the light showed what she was so proud of.

The lady had sewn jewellery into the hem of her skirt. Admiration tugged at him, even as he tried to keep his voice even. No need to make her ego get any bigger. “Clever.”

“Suggested by one of the servants loyal to me,” she responded, dropping the skirt and raising back up. “Once I pawn them, you’ll get the rest of your money.”

Peirce looked past her at Douglass and Kai. Douglass nodded instantly. Damn bleeding heart.

Kai shrugged. “I don’t care as long as we get paid,” he said with his trademark devil-may-care grin. Peirce rolled his eyes.

“Fine,” he told Emmaline. “You have a deal. For now.”

And that solved the matter of whether to still hand her over to the man who attempted to kill him and his men.

He turned back to the rafts, motioning Douglass and Kai to join him.

Emmaline still stood there. “So what do we do now?”

Peirce pulled one of the rafts to the opposite end of the cavern and pulled the cord. It inflated with a whoosh, echoing the sound made by the other raft when Douglass followed suit. “We’re getting the hell out of here,” Peirce explained, dragging the raft toward the water.

“On a boat?”

Peirce looked at the cold, dark water. It was moving slowly here, perfect for putting in. “On a raft.” He gave her a smirk and gestured at the river. “Unless you’d prefer to swim.”

She swallowed but moved closer to the raft. Douglass and Kai were already sliding into the current. Peirce helped Emmaline up over the edge, trying to ignore the way his gut clenched when he again saw the flash of pale undergarments beneath her dark blue skirt. Once she was safely inside, he pushed the raft toward the water, grimacing as his shoulder argued with the movement. Two more steps and he hoisted himself aboard, letting the river’s strong flow whisk them away after Kai and Douglass.

Too bad his shoulder gave out mid-hoist, leaving him in a sprawled heap on top of Emmaline.

She couldn’t breathe. And not just because there was six feet and a couple hundred pounds of hot-blooded male on top of her. His body armour had knocked the air from her lungs and she couldn’t even gasp out the curse that was sitting on the tip of her tongue.

“Ah, hell,” Taggart growled, hauling himself off of her.

Air rushed back, leaving her coughing in relief. But as Taggart tried to settle into the makeshift stern of the raft, she noticed him wincing. “Are you okay?”

He wouldn’t look at her. “Fine.”

She sat up, trying to smooth the fabric of her dress. Her fingers brushed through wetness. She tentatively brought her fingers to her nose and drew back at the copper scent of blood. “You’re hurt,” she whispered.

“No.”

She was already moving toward him, keeping low to avoid rocking the raft. “Where?”