Mistress of Scandal (Greentree Sisters 3)

“They’re coming, they’re coming!” the child shrilled in Francesca’s ear, staring behind them. “Don’t let him have me, please.”

“I won’t,” she panted, and tightened her grip on the girl, telling herself that only brute force would separate them.

“Look out!” Lil shouted a warning. “He’s just behind you, miss!”

Francesca had time for a quick look over her shoulder. Lil was right, he was there. She tried to run faster, but her skirts clung to her legs, trying to trip her, and there was a stitch in her side. With a sob of despair she realized it was already too late. Her pursuer was only inches away from capturing her and returning the child to her new owner.

Wildly she twisted and turned, attempting to evade his outstretched hand, but he anticipated her movement. His fingers fastened painfully onto her shoulder.

“Let me go!” she screamed, spinning around, prepared to fight.

He was tall, big, and she was so frightened that it was a moment before his words registered. “Damn and blast you, Francesca, I’m on your side!”

She knew that voice; it was his voice.

“Sebastian?” she gasped. “What—”

“Do you want to get away or not?” He grasped her arm and gave her a shake. She could see his eyes, black and gleaming, just as they’d been during their last adventure. It really was he.

“I want to get away,” she said.

“Then let’s run!” He set off, propelling her with him.

Suddenly she wanted to laugh for joy, but she didn’t have any breath to spare. They rounded a corner and then another, and it was dark and smelly. To their left was one of those horrible narrow gateways, and when he said, “This way!” she followed, and instantly found herself in the stygian black of a courtyard. Tall buildings surrounded them, but they were either unoccupied or the occupants were asleep, because there wasn’t any light or sound. Apart, that is, from her breath rasping in her throat and her heart pounding in her ears.

They stood still, waiting. The child was clinging to her, face hidden in her neck, and she could feel Lil hovering almost as close. Sebastian was in front of them, but she heard his breathing as he waited. Shakily, Francesca listened to the approach of the pursuers. Their running steps passed the gateway without even a pause, and quickly faded into silence.

“Thank Gawd,” Lil gasped.

“Shhh,” Sebastian hissed. Silently, like a wraith, he moved into the gateway and peered down the street outside, first one way and then the other. He took his time about it.

“How’d he get here?” Lil whispered. She sounded cross, but that was just Lil’s way of hiding her fear.

“I don’t know.” Francesca was dazed, not sure what she was feeling. The wild joy that had gripped her when she first saw him had faded, and all her fears had returned.

“Don’t you trust him, miss, you hear me?” Lil wasn’t helping.

“He’s just come to our rescue. I think we need to bear that in mind.”

“We could have done it without him. I’m sure you would’ve come up with a plan, miss.”

The child stirred, lifting her head, and Francesca knew she was peering at her in the darkness. “What’s your name?” she asked gently.

“Rosie,” the girl murmured.

“Where’s your home, Rosie? Where’s your mother and father?”

“They’re dead. My auntie, she sold me to the gentleman at that house. Then she changed her mind, but he said it were too late, and that I belong to him now.”

Lil made a sound of furious disgust, but Francesca’s throat was closed. It was too dreadful for words.

“It’s safe.” Sebastian had returned, and his voice made her jump. “Now, Miss Greentree, would you mind telling me what in the bloody blazes you think you’re doing?”

He was angry. More than that, he was furious. When he saw her strolling along the street he thought he was hallucinating. But when she grabbed hold of the child and ran off…He thought he was going to explode on the spot. The looks of shocked surprise and delight on the faces of the crowd had been of less importance than the look of murderous fury on the face of the thickset man. He’d shouted for help, and several more like him had come from the house. Sebastian knew they weren’t likely to stop Francesca and ask her polite questions. She’d taken what was theirs and they wanted it back, and they’d enjoy making her sorry.

An image flashed into his mind: Francesca with her dark eyes and wide mouth, all bloodied and broken.

He couldn’t have it. He wouldn’t have it.