“Very well, but the moment danger presents itself, you leave.”
Of course not! “What danger could possibly present itself?”
“According to my findings, I believe this organization is the most dangerous smuggling group in all of England.”
They were . . . what?
*
“My arse hurts.”
Warrick shifted in the chair. How many hours had it been? It was impossible to keep count since at some point they had both nodded off.
He tested the tightness of his bindings. They weren’t as tight this time. After Lady Ridgeland left them, the man with the scar on his face had stayed behind, so he could only stealthily attempt to loosen the rope that bound wrists. But even that hope was thwarted. They weren’t total lunatics. Their captors had allowed them to do the necessary, but that meant each time the bindings were replaced they were rebound just as tightly as before.
Though the man wasn’t in the room at the moment.
“Mine too.” Saville rolled his neck. “We have been severely mistreated.”
“Your sister...” Warrick trailed off. He didn’t know how to express how he was feeling.
Saville understood. “We wouldn’t still be here if she’d agreed to their conditions.”
But did that mean she didn’t? Wouldn’t? Where they were in relation to the exact deadline remained uncertain, and he still worried he would be cast aside. Hah. Like a dirty cloth.
Warrick paused, noticing a familiar cravat on the floor. He gazed down at his gaping shirt. “Why the hell is my shirt open?”
“That crazy bat came in the middle of the night and removed your cravat, murmuring that you would be more comfortable without it. At least that is my vague recollection. You were deep in the land of nod.” Saville lowered his chin to his chest. “I’m insulted. Why not remove my cravat too?”
Damn Lady Ridgeland.Who did she think he was?
“Am I being punished or am I cursed?” he muttered. “It’s hard to tell at this point.”
“Both, old chap. Both.”
Warrick shot a glare at Saville, who taunted him back with a smirk.
“But it’s not all that bad,” Saville said, his eyes glinting. “What’s wrong with a bit of skin?”
Warrick flinched at the reminder of their little intervention. “Well said.”
Saville chuckled.
Warrick motioned to a stool in the corner. “How long as he been gone?”
“Not sure. He was gone when I woke up.”
Warrick strained and wriggled against his bindings. They weren’t as tight this time. “We need to get out of place.”
“Would it be too much to ask for sustenance? My head is killing me. The behemoth could at least stuff some food in our faces after we relieve ourselves. They let us do that but not eat? Or drink? I could kill for a sip ofanythingright about now.”
“It’s worse because we had brandy.” Warrick said. But with his mind clearer and his belly aching, his determination to leave this godforsaken place nearly exploded from his body in a surge of impatience. Even if he had to lose an arm, he would leave here today. “It’s unlike them to leave us alone.”
“Perhaps they are preparing food for us. They cannot let us starve.”
“We’d be lucky if we were tossed a scrap of meat,” Warrick muttered. He wriggled his wrists again. Since no one was keeping watch over them, if ever a chance was presented to escape, this was it. “I’m breaking free of this rope.”
“I’d love to help, but my arm has gone numb. Sorry, old chap, you are on your own.”
