Page 100 of Blackthorne's Bride


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Jack leaned close to him, the metallic smell of blood flooding his nostrils. “Not if I kill him first. Do you think I can do it?”

The servant nodded, eyes wide.

“Tell me,” Jack demanded.

The butler gurgled, then spoke.

MADDIE TOOK A STEP back, trying to put more distance between her and Bleven. He was advancing on her one small step at a time, and the leer on his face left little doubt as to what he planned.

Her hand itched to retrieve the letter opener, brandish it and ward him off, but she knew if she acted now, it would be too soon. Besides, she was trembling so much she would probably drop it.

She had to be brave. She had to forget she was Lady Madeleine—Lady Blackthorne—Lady anything. She had to become the kind of woman who could slide a steel blade into a man’s chest and twist it until he coughed, choked, and died.

And if any man deserved to die that way, it was Bleven.

He moved toward her again, and she took another step back.

“My husband will find you, Duke,” she told him. “And when he does, he’ll kill you slowly.”

Bleven laughed. “I’d like to see him try. I have plans for Jack Martingale. Yes, I do.”

Maddie stepped back again.

“But first I want to deal with you. Now, my lady, stop scurrying about. There’s no place to hide.” He crooked a finger at her. “Come here.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

Bleven’s smile never faltered as he reached in his coat and withdrew a slim small pistol.

Well, that changed things a bit.

Maddie bit the inside of her cheek. Hard. She had to still her body’s shaking.

“Let me phrase that another way. Get over there.” He waved the gun at the mattress. “And take your clothes off. I’m done playing cat and mouse.”

JACK RODE AS FAST AS he could into the shipyard, reining his mount hard before jumping off and running for the warehouse. He recognized the dingy blue building immediately as the one Bleven’s butler had described. If the man had lied to him, he swore there would be hell to pay.

The warehouse looked deserted, but Jack wasn’t taking any chances. He kept scanning and listening for Bleven’s men. But nothing moved and all was silent. The men must be inside with Bleven and Maddie.

An image from his youth—of three men pinning a woman down in an alley—flashed through his mind.

No. It wouldn’t end that way. Not this time.

Jack reached into his pocket and withdrew the Manton pistol. He’d had enough foresight to grab it from his desk before dragging Sergeant Timms outside the burning library. Now, he hefted the familiar weight in his hand and reached for the warehouse door.

It was locked, and he realized there would be no way to make a surprise entrance. So he stepped back and rammed his foot into the door handle, splintering the wood and jarring the passage halfway open.

With a yell, he raised the pistol. “Let her go, Bleven, or I kill you now!”

His voice echoed, but nothing in the warehouse moved. Nothing breathed.

Cautiously, Jack moved forward, nudging the door fully open with his boot. He moved aside, allowing the light to stream over his shoulder. What he saw made him slam his fist hard into the door, ripping it off its hinges.

The warehouse was empty, deserted.

“Bloody hell!”

“Looking for ’is Grace?” someone behind him asked.