Page 91 of Barbarous

“Oh?” The single word was pregnant with menace, but the man stepped aside and Malcolm shoved Daphne into the dingy hut.

A second man, who looked bored rather than evil, swept Daphne and Malcolm with a lazy, uninterested gaze, his leg slung carelessly over the arm of a rude wooden chair. He shot an amused glance at the man who’d answered the door. The two of them stared at Malcolm with an expression in their eyes that should have stripped the skin from his ignorant hide.

Instead, Malcolm flung his hand out dramatically. “My dear friend Captain Calitain—” He yanked Daphne close and forced her down into a curtsy. “Let me present to you One-Eyed Standish’s woman!”

Daphne fought the urge to run when both men looked at her with more interest than was probably good for her health.

Calitain strode toward her without taking his eyes from hers. He stopped so close she could smell him. His initial smell wasn’t unpleasant—soap mingled with a hint of brandy—but something corrupt and rotten lurked just below the surface.

“Standish’s whore, eh?” He raised one eyebrow and gave her bosom a lingering look before turning to Malcolm. “What of it?” The words were like the crack of a whip.

Malcolm faltered, opening his mouth and then closing it again.

“Standish has many whores,” Calitain sneered, this directed at Daphne. “I have even had a few of them myself. Like that one in New Orleans, eh?” He turned to his silent friend and they both laughed in what could only be described as a very nasty fashion. Still chuckling, he walked around her, giving her rumpled and dirty walking costume an exaggerated inspection as he did so. “My, my, my,” he said, not bothering to explain himself, merely glancing again at the other man, who returned his look with one that was oddly . . . significant.

Malcolm found his voice. “You don’t understand, Captain, he plans to marry this one.” He sounded far less confident, almost whiney.

“Marriage?” His brows drew down like check marks over his tar-black eyes.

“Yes, he wants to marry her, the fool. Even though he’s already had her. As have I.” Malcolm added a manly laugh, as if to join in the merriment the other two men had just shared.

Calitain ignored him, instead focusing his penetrating gaze on Daphne. The pause dragged on until she wondered if he expected her to confirm or deny Malcolm’s words.

“You have had the big man, have you? Tell me, was he as good as you hoped?” He grinned at his friend. “Jean-Paul would like to know.”

Whatever he saw in Daphne’s face made him laugh even harder and it took a few minutes for both him and his associate to stop.

He wiped a tear from his eye before turning to Malcolm. “You have done well, little lordling.” He patted Malcolm on the head. His eyes were on Daphne, so he missed the venomous look Malcolm shot him. “Yes, you have brought me a nice present.” He trailed one finger down the curve of her jaw, toward her chin, and down her neck and lower, lingering on the swells of her breasts, which were visible through the keyhole neckline of the coat. Daphne believed he was on the verge of doing something vile to her right then and there, but in the blink of an eye he was holding Malcolm by the throat, slamming him up against the wall and lifting his feet a couple of inches off the ground. Daphne couldn’t help thinking Malcolm found himself in the same position rather frequently.

“I. Want. My. Money.” The softness of his voice caused the small hairs on the back of her neck to stand up. “Your man Blake said you had it,” he continued, his voice silky smooth as he leaned close to Malcolm, who was choking. “I have to pick up my shipment and I have no time to find another rich English cochon to put up the money. If you have made me come here for nothing, I will not be happy. Do you understand this, lordling?” He leaned in closer to Malcolm, as if listening. “Eh, what is that you say? I can’t understand.” He cocked his head to one side with exaggerated concern, looking over at the other man, who laughed silently and shook his head.

Daphne almost felt sorry for Malcolm. Almost.

As suddenly as Calitain had grabbed Malcolm, he let him go and watched in amusement as he fell to his knees and fought to catch his breath.

Calitain lost interest in him while he flailed and turned his attention instead to the two openmouthed men who’d helped kidnap Daphne. He put his hands on his hips and let his mouth fall open, gaping mockingly before laughing. “And who are you two gentlemen, eh?” The word gentlemen dripped like poison from an adder’s fang.

The bigger man raised his hands in a placating gesture. “’Ere then, we’s just paid to do a job, sir. We don’t want no trouble,” he said in a soothing tone. The smaller man stood motionless beside him, clutching his hat in his white-knuckled hands.

Both were spared whatever Calitain was going to say by the sound of hoarse pleading coming from the floor.

“She’s the money,” Malcolm wheezed, pointing at Daphne. “She’s got control of her son’s estates—hundreds of thousands of pounds. She’s worth even more now that Standish wants her. He’ll bring the money for her and think nothing of it as he’ll only be expecting me.” He collapsed, exhausted by his brief soliloquy.

Calitain looked from Malcolm to her and back again before a bleak smile settled on his lips. He dropped to his haunches in front of Malcolm. “For your sake, little lord, you’d better hope she is worth every penny and more to Standish.” When he stood he brought Malcolm up with him, holding him by the hair and dragging him kicking and squealing across the room before thrusting him onto the dirty mattress in the farthest corner. “You will sleep there.”

He turned to the other two and pointed to the same corner. Both men scrambled to sit beside their unfortunate employer.

“It is lucky for you that I must wait here in any case. My ship will not come for me and my money until tomorrow night, after it is dark. That means you have until tomorrow after dark to get my money. I don’t care how you get it. Standish can bring it, little fairies can bring it, or even the bloody king himself. But if I don’t have it by then, both you”—he pointed at Malcolm—“and her”—he turned to look at Daphne, his eyes like bottomless black wells—“will die. Is that understood?”

Malcolm nodded, a low whimper coming from his throat while he stared up at his tormentor. “Y-y-yes, it is clear.”

Satisfied with Malcolm’s response, Calitain grabbed Daphne by the shoulder and propelled her toward a dark doorway. He smiled down at her as his arm snaked around her waist and drew her close.

“You are lucky, my lady. We have a private chamber in which you will spend the night while we men make plans for your rescue.” He squeezed her hard before leaning down to whisper in her ear. “You’d better hope the little lordling is smarter than he looks,” he hissed before shoving her into the darkness and slamming the door behind her.

The only light in the room came from the cracks around the ill-fitting door. Daphne stayed put until her eyes adjusted enough that she could see the outlines of the room. There was a bed in one corner and a small cabinet opposite the door, and that was all. She felt her way toward the bed and sat on the edge, trying not to think about who else had used it.

Gradually, her pulse slowed and her breathing became less ragged. She could hear Calitain and his associate talking, his voice almost loud enough to distinguish the words, but not quite. She listened without moving for perhaps an hour, when the voices stopped. Not long after there was the sound of boots and the slamming of a door.