Chapter Forty

CHAPTER FORTY

Daphne froze. Icicles pierced her veins. He’d obviously been told by the barmaid she was a female, but how did he know her name?

“Rat got your tongue, my fine lady?” the hulking mass said in his thick Russian accent.

“What do you plan to do with me?” she replied.

The hulking mass wiped a dirty arm across his cracked lips. “We’re using you to lure Captain Cavendish.”

More ice encrusted Daphne’s heart. They had Rafe? They’d used her to capture Rafe? And they knew his real name, too? Had they already murdered him? Were they torturing him again somewhere? Perhaps in this very place? She scratched at her arms, frantic to get out of here and help him.

“But my friend and I, we thought we might have a bit of sport with you. Neither of us has ever been with a true lady.” The hulking mass waggled his bushy eyebrows at her.

Daphne pulled herself into a ball in the corner. She was going to be sick. “Your friend?” she choked out.

The hulking mass didn’t have to answer. Another man came barreling through the door. This man was much shorter, much smaller, and spryer, and leaner than the hulking mass.

“There you are, Billy. I’ve been waiting for you,” the hulking mass said. “You should be thankful I didn’t already have my way with her.” He laughed a disgusting laugh.

Daphne shuddered. Bile rose in her throat. Rape. She hadn’t considered rape. Pain, yes. Torture, yes. Death, even. But she’d been pretending to be a boy. The thought of rape hadn’t occurred to her.

Though Billy was considerably smaller than his friend he was equally unkempt and still much larger than Daphne. His cloudy blue eyes darted around the room haphazardly. He looked a bit mad. “Aye, she’s a fine one, just like ye said, Boris.”

“I don’t lie,” Boris answered. “Have you ever known me to lie?”

“I can’t say I has,” Billy replied, drooling a bit from the side of his wide mouth.

Daphne backed away even farther. Her back and hands against the stone, she moved slowly toward the far wall. She only had one knife. She might manage to kill or wound one of them but the other might overpower her. Her heart hammered in her throat. Think. Think.

“Billy?” she asked. “Is that your name? Billy?”

“Aye.” Billy nodded.

“What are you doing working with these Russians, Billy? Why would you turn against your own countryfolk?”

Billy wiped at his mouth. “Aye, don’t think ye can talk to me about loyalty and kinship, me lady.” He sneered. “I was wounded in the army and got nothin’ from me country. Not even a kick in the teef. I works fer who pays me best now. That’s wot I do. And if there’s a bit o’ fun ta be had whilst I’m at it, like a tumble wit ye, I’m all for it.”

Daphne swallowed hard and continued her crawl toward the far wall. Clearly Billy wasn’t going to be talked out of this.

Billy’s wild eyes tracked her movement. They devoured her. “Where do ye think ye’re going, me lady?”

“There’s no place to run to,” Boris added with a laugh that could curdle milk.

Billy advanced on her, his arms wide as if he would catch her if she tried to stand and run around him. It would have been no use at any rate because Boris’s girth filled the doorway. He laughed and rubbed his hands together as Billy stalked toward her.

“Tell me something,” Daphne asked, attempting to stall and wanting to know the answer.

“Wot’s that?” Billy asked, grinning at her through rotten teeth.

“Did either of you… were either of you there when my brother, the Earl of Swifdon, was murdered?”

Billy laughed. “Can’t say I did the honors, me lady, but I surely was part o’ the gang wot turned him over to those Frenchies.”

Daphne stood up, her back against the far wall now, and clenched her jaw. Just as she suspected. These two men were part of the group responsible for Donald’s death. She hated them with every part of her body, mind, and spirit.

Billy continued to slowly advance on her and Daphne swallowed hard again. The closer he got, the stronger his smell. He reeked of sweat and rotting garbage. She pressed the back of her arm across her mouth, fighting against the bile in her throat. Billy jumped at her and caught her arm, pulling her down onto the dirty floor with him. She screamed and bucked, trying desperately to push him off her. He pinned one of her arms above her head and began unbuttoning his filthy trousers with the other. “Don’t squirm so much, yer highness. It’ll be better for both of us.”

This was it. She might only kill one of them but she had to try. With her free arm, she reached into her boot for the knife. Billy was too preoccupied with his trousers to notice. The hulking mass didn’t seem to, either.

Billy sprang free, his erection pressing against Daphne’s leg. She fought her gag even harder. He yanked at Daphne’s breeches, ripping the material at her waist.

“No!” she cried.

He lifted his arm and cracked her across the cheek. Her head snapped to the side and hit hard against the floor. Pain ripped through her face and neck. She gritted her teeth, turned her head, and curled her fingers around the hilt of the knife. She lifted the weapon in her hand and pushed him off her body with all her might. Billy fell to the side, off kilter because of his fight to remove her breeches. Daphne took one last deep breath and plunged the knife into his chest, just below his left shoulder, right where his heart would be. Blood spurted, dark and hot, out of the wound in his chest, coating Daphne’s hands and splattering across her face and clothing.

“Gah!” Billy screamed and crumpled to the floor while blood continued to pour out of the large wound around the knife.

“She’s kilt me!” he cried.

The hulking mass’s eyes went wide, then they narrowed into beady black coals. “Damn you, bitch.”

Daphne watched in horror as Boris advanced toward her with murder in his eyes. The giant was going to kill her. Rape her first, then kill her. She knew it, but at least she’d taken one of the two. She’d go to her grave knowing she’d taken a life for her brother’s. And Billy was indeed dying. Blood trickled from his lips and he gurgled. He’d propped himself against the wall, staring unseeing into the room, each breath more shallow than the last.

“That was for my brother,” she spat at the dying man.

Billy made no other sound.

“I’m going to snap your neck after I’ve had my way with you,” the hulking mass snarled.

Daphne sprang to her feet and faced off with him. “You’ll have to catch me first.” She leaped over to Billy and yanked the knife from his chest with one solid move. More blood sprayed onto her breeches. Billy’s eyes drained of life until they were completely blank.

She turned back to Boris, the knife clutched in her slick, bloody fist. The weapon may have given the giant pause, but not for long. He lunged at her. She aimed the knife at his heart but it slid into his shoulder instead. Groaning in pain, he tackled her to the ground, nearly breaking her back. She struggled for air. She would suffocate if he stayed on her for any length of time.

“No!” she screamed, but the knife was still lodged in his shoulder, pinned between them. She couldn’t retrieve it. Her wrist was pinned to the floorboards. It felt as if it might snap.

“Aargh.” With an unearthly cry, Boris groaned and collapsed atop her, his bulbous face falling to the side of her neck.

Daphne’s eyes went wide. What had just happened?

The next thing she knew, the giant body atop hers was pushed over and fell away and Rafe was standing there, breathing heavily. His hands on his hips. She glanced over at the hulk’s body. The handle of a knife was standing up in the back of his neck.

“And that was for me!” Rafe shouted at the hulk’s quivering mass, viciously kicking him in the side.

“Rafe,” Daphne cried, tears pooling in her eyes. She was still shaking so hard her teeth clacked.

Rafe fell to his knees beside her, his hands skimming her neck, her chest, her legs. “Daphne, are you all right? Have you been stabbed?”

“No, no,” she sobbed.

“You’re covered in blood.” Rafe enveloped her in his arms, cradling her head against his chest. “Did they hurt you? Did they—?”

“I’m fine. Just… frightened.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Rafe, how did they know? How did they find out? The barmaid told them I was female but… how did they know my name?”

Rafe didn’t let her go. He stroked her head. “I don’t know. They must have done some investigating after they discovered you weren’t a boy. I can only imagine they paid enough money to the right person.”

Daphne shuddered. It truly didn’t matter how they found out. All that mattered was that she was safe. And Rafe was safe. “How did you find me?” she whispered against his chest.

“Those two idiots, Anton and Viktor, offered your life for mine.”

Daphne gasped. She pulled back away from him slightly and cupped her blood-streaked hand over her mouth.

“I agreed of course and they brought me here. In shackles.”

Daphne eyed him up and down. He clearly wasn’t wearing any shackles on his wrists or his ankles. Her brow furrowed. “How did you escape?”

Rafe’s infamous grin lit up his face. “You and I didn’t quite make it to that lesson, but unfortunately for them, escaping shackles is one of my specialties.”

Daphne had to smile at that. “Did you… are they dead?”

“No. Though not because I didn’t want to kill them with my bare hands. The crew took them. They followed me here. They were unable to find where you’d been taken because they’d been watching the door to the tavern, not the alley, but when Viktor brought me out of the inn, they followed us.”

Daphne shuddered at the thought of how close she’d come to rape and death. Thank God Viktor had brought Rafe here.

“What will happen to them?” she asked, while Rafe removed his coat and covered her shaking limbs.

“They’ll both be tried for murder and espionage. And I’ve got the letters that will lead me to the men who hired them in France.”

Daphne pressed a hand to her belly. “That’s wonderful, Rafe. It’s just what you wanted. Now we can go to France and find the other men and—”

Rafe’s face turned to a mask of stone. “ We aren’t going anywhere, Daphne.”

“But you’ll need me. I speak Russian. You said yourself that Gabriel often speaks it to keep you from knowing what he’s saying. I can help you.”

Rafe shook his head. “It’s too dangerous. I’ve already put your life in danger twice. I won’t risk it again. I’m taking the True Love and the crew and sailing for France without you.”

Anger bubbled in Daphne’s chest but she knew Rafe’s mind was made up. He refused to admit he needed her. He refused to admit he needed anyone. There was no arguing with him at a time like this. This was it. He was going to leave her. It was over. She should have known it would end like this.

Rafe held out a hand. “Come on. I’m taking you home.”