Page 81 of The Captain Claims His Temptress

“Shh.” He shoved himself into his trousers, then leaped from the bed to grab his pistol from the chair. “Where is the book?”

“Um, ah, in my satchel,” she stuttered, her brow furrowed.

Her satchel sat on the nightstand beside her. There was no way he could get to it. However, he had to try. Before he could take a step, the door flew open. ’Twas no surprise that Dupont and his bootlickers filed into the room.

Stephen pointed his weapon at Dupont. Unfortunately, a half-dozen pistols were aimed at Madalene. She swallowed and lifted her chin bravely. However, there was no denying her quiver.

Duponttsked. “If you shoot me, she is dead.”

If Dupont died, would his men remain loyal or scatter to the hills? Probably the latter, but Stephen would not risk Madalene’s life to find out.

Dupont strutted to Stephen and grabbed the satchel. He removed the book and scanned a few pages. Throwing his head back, he cackled like a madman. “I knew it. I knew there was a copy.” He sobered and glared at Stephen. “You thought you could outsmart me?”

Madalene’s safety was all that mattered. “Take the book and leave us be,” Stephen said.

Looking thoughtful, Dupont stepped closer. “I think I will take her with me.” He grabbed Madalene and pulled her from the bed. She fought his tug, tumbling off the mattress and landing on her knees.

Stephen reached for her, halting mid-lunge, frozen in time like some sort of bloody defeated warrior statue.

While glaring at Stephen, Pierre roughly hoisted her onto her feet. “Do not follow me, or she ismorte. Dead.”

“Stephen?” Her features twisted with fear as Dupont dragged her from the room.

Once the last man departed, Stephen dropped into the chair and moaned. Why hadn’t he listened to his instincts? Why had he let down his guard? One thing was certain, there was no way he was sitting on his arse doing nothing. He shoved his bare feet into his boots.

“What in the hell just happened?” The duke entered the room with his weapon drawn.

“Dupont,” Stephen growled. “He took Madalene to keep me from following him.”

“Christ,” William said. “Did he get the book?”

Who gave two shites about the book right now?

“Come on,” Stephen called over his shoulder as he dashed into the hallway. “He said he’d kill her if I followed.”

William was beside him in an instant. “What is the plan?”

“We kill him before he sees us coming,” Stephen said.

Chapter twenty-eight

October 9th, 1817

Afterridingforhours,they’d stopped to build an absurdly large fire and rest. Pierre chuckled manically as his men tossed wood onto it until it was large enough to burn a carriage—or three. Since Maddie was relegated to a spot far away from the warmth of the roaring flames, one would think she’d be offered a coat. But no. Pierre’s men were beastly. She searched long and hard for the silver lining in this unfortunate situation. Luckily, since her bare feet were numb, they no longer stung when she stepped on a stick or rock. Not that she was doing much walking. But a few times, she had to travel from the patch of leaves she reposed on, to the tree where she took care of womanly business. However, only one of the treks had been legitimate. The others were to observe her surroundings and plan her escape. Thus far, her plan included… She sighed.

The rays from the rising sun bathed her in hope. Soon, the golden beams would warm her chilled bones, and everything was less terrifying in the dark. As the men bustled around the camp, eating their morning meal, and preparing to leave, a young man with sad eyes glanced in her direction.

At last, a plan. Step one: send him a flirtatious smile. Step two: trick him into untying her hands. Step three: convince him to steal the book for her. Step four: run like the dickens.

She caught his gaze and sent him her you-are-quite-handsome smile.

He blushed and looked away.

Oh, piffle. What next? She’d have to find another man to send coquettish messages to. Which miserable-looking chap should she choose? But then the young man’s gaze traveled back to her. This time, a tilting head and an eyelash flutter accompanied her smile.

He peered down at the bread in his hand before looking back at her.

She shamelessly used her forearm to press her nightdress close to her skin. Surely this would make her nipple poke through the fabric.