Page 42 of A Remarkable Rogue

He frowned at the note.

“And a message to accompany it.” Her heart pounded furiously as she whispered, “Bois Saint-Louis.”

His eyes snapped up to hers. They were suddenly enraged and glowing like brimstone behind his mask. He bared his teeth at her with the ferocity of a cornered animal and snarled, “What is the meaning of this?”

“I was asked to deliver that message to you.” She retreated a step away from him. “That’s all I know.” Gooseflesh sprouted across her skin as a terrifying need to escape pulsed through her. A voice screamed inside her head to run…Turn and run!She took another step back. “Good evening, Lord—”

His hand shot out and grabbed her arm before she could flee. He jerked her hard against him and menacingly lowered his head toward hers. His breath fanned hot across her face. “What in thehellis this?”

Sydney shoved at him, but she couldn’t budge him or yank her arm free from his iron grip. He reeked of whiskey and the dank musk of sweat and sex, and her stomach lurched with disgust and terror. “Let go of me!”

“Who are you?” He reached up to claw his fat fingers at her mask and tear it away.

She ducked her head. She couldn’t let him see her face! If he knew who she was, she would be dead. Braxton would kill her himself for daring to blackmail him before Scepter had the chance.

He reached toward her again. She sank her teeth into his fingers, so deep she tasted the crunch of bone and flesh.

With a scream of pain, he wrenched his hand free from her mouth. Blood dripped down his hand. “Goddamn bitch!”

He slapped her. Her head snapped back, and a cry tore from her.

“Who sent you?” He shook her.

“I don’t know!”

He raised his hand to strike her again—

“Let her go,” a deep voice said calmly from behind her.

She glanced over her shoulder, and her heart leapt into her throat.

Nate.

He stood in the middle of the path only a few feet away. His black clothes and chestnut hair blended into the dark shadows. His right hand rested over the back of his left, and the muscles in his shoulders tensed beneath his jacket, ready to spring.

Braxton yanked her back to him as she tried to wrench her arm away. “This is none of your concern.”

“Let her go.”

“Piss off!”

Nate’s eyes narrowed behind the mask with a look so murderous it stole her breath away.

“Let her go,” he ground out through clenched teeth, “and I’ll let you live.”

Braxton laughed. As if taunting the panther, he squeezed her arm tighter until she cried out.

Nate lunged as he pulled a knife from his sleeve. He caught the general across the chin with his left fist and slashed with the knife in his right.

Braxton shoved Sydney toward Nate to use her body to block the knife.

But Nate was quicker. He grabbed her around the waist with one arm to break her fall and slide her protectively behind him while he brandished the knife with the other. The sharp blade forced the general into the thorny branches of the bower.

“Stay away from her, you bastard,” Nate snarled between gritted teeth and slowly backed away with Sydney behind him, one guarded step at a time. The knife glinted a warning in the faint moonlight. “If you come after her again, I’ll gut you where you stand.”

The general clenched his fists, but he wisely stayed where he was. “She and I aren’t through with this.”

“Oh yes, you are.”