Page 86 of The Big Bad Duke

Instead, they had lingered in bed, made love, and played in the stream like carefree lovers.

He wanted to blame everything on Leila—everything that led to this disaster—but he couldn’t.

Maybe she had meant to distract him.

But he was the one who’d allowed it.

He should have kept moving, no matter her condition, no matter his heart.

Because if she weren’t a part of the Brotherhood, he was damning her too.

More men emerged from their hiding places among the trees, stepping out of the shadows like phantoms materializing from the forest itself. They closed in from all sides, forming a perfect circle around the two of them.

Gideon reached down and smoothly drew his dagger from his boot.

The shot rang out before he could fully straighten, and he instinctively threw himself sideways, shielding Leila’s body with his own. But the bullet went wide, and suddenly they were engulfed in thick, choking gunpowder smoke that reduced visibility to mere inches.

In the chaos that followed, three or four men—he couldn’t tell exactly how many through the haze—rushed him from different sides. Boots slammed into his ribs, his back, his shoulders. Fists crashed into his jaw, his stomach, anywhere they could reach.

They didn’t want to kill him, he realized suddenly. If they did, he’d already be dead.

No. What awaited him was something far worse than a quick death.

As if to confirm his dread, someone threw a rough burlap sack over his head, plunging him into darkness. The kicking intensified, becoming more vicious, more systematic.

And finally, as consciousness began to slip away, a different kind of darkness wrapped around him entirely.

But just before everything went quiet—before the void claimed him—he heard a scream. A blood-curdling scream that seemed to tear the very air apart.

Leila was calling his name.

Chapter 16

Present Day – Spring 1744

The screech of rusted hinges pierced the suffocating darkness as the door to their cell swung open. Gideon’s head snapped up from where he’d been slumped against the damp stone wall, his neck protesting the sudden movement.

Every muscle in his body ached from the beating he’d received, and the iron shackles around his wrists had begun to chafe his skin raw.

A burly man stepped into the narrow doorway, his massive frame blocking what little light filtered in from the corridor beyond. He carried two crude wooden bowls in his meaty hands, the kind used to feed dogs scraps. His boots squelched against the wet stone floor as he approached, each step echoing in the confined space.

The guard threw the bowls onto the filthy floor before each of them. Even in the dim light, Gideon could see the contents: a thin, gray porridge that looked more like gruel, and beside it, a stale piece of bread that appeared sturdy enough to be used as a weapon. A dull wooden spoon floated listlessly in the watery mess of each bowl.

The porridge splattered, some of it seeping between the cracks in the stone. Gideon watched a piece of bread bounce once before landing in the dirt.

The man disappeared into the corridor but returned moments later with two wooden cups. Water seeped steadily from beneath them, creating little puddles as he walked. He dropped them carelessly, the liquid immediately pooling around their bases.

Gideon lifted his head and fixed the man with a stare that had once made hardened soldiers quake.

“Who the hell are you? What do you want?” His voice came out rough and scratchy, his throat parched and raw. “Do you know who I am?” he continued when the guard refused to answer. “I am the Duke of Wolverstone. People will be looking for me, and when they find me, there will be hell to pay. Abducting a lord is a killing offense.”

The guard’s only response was a sneer, revealing several missing teeth. He looked at both prisoners with undisguised disgust, as if they were something he’d scraped off his boot.

Without warning, he drew back his leg and kicked Gideon’s chain. The metal links screeched from the impact, and the sudden jolt sent fire shooting through Gideon’s already battered ribs. He couldn’t suppress a grunt of pain as he was yanked forward, the shackles biting deeper into his wrists.

Leila’s chains rattled too, and she let out a pitiful cry. Had the guard hurt her, too?

Rage began to build inside Gideon—hot and raw, overpowering the pain.