Gallant Waif by Anne Gracie (the alpha prince and his bride full story free .txt) 📗

summat awful, and I don’t like ‘er cousin, not one little bit. She shoulda been home long since.” Her old face crumpled with concern, and she clutched Jack’s coatsleeve.

“Find ‘er, Mr Jack. Find ‘er and bring ‘er ‘ome.”

“Carlos, saddle my horse,” snapped Jack.

“Perhaps the curricle would be better, Jack. Your leg wouldn’t stand up to riding for hours, would it?” said Francis.

“Damn my leg. A horse is faster than a curricle. Saddle the roan, Carlos.”

“And my chestnut,” added Francis.

“Does anyone know which direction they were headed in?”

“Sir, I saw the carriage turn at the gate and head north,” said Florence.

“North?” Jack turned and looked at Francis grimly. “Are you thinking what I am thinking?”

Francis nodded slowly. “He was damned persistent yesterday. Seemed almost desperate when she refused him so adamantly. But would he force her?”

Jack swore. “If that bastard lays as much as a finger on her, I’ll kill him!”

Chapter Fourteen

Darkness was falling rapidly as the two men neared the outskirts of a village. Francis deliberately reined in his mount and after a moment Jack, too, slowed his horse, with obvious reluctance. He’d set a killing pace. Their horses were nearing exhaustion. As the pace slowed, his tension increased—this village was probably their last chance.

Jack’s shoulders slumped. His face was grey with pain and anxiety. He’d expected to catch Cole long before now. The longer the search, the less chance they had of catching up. The consequences of that were too appalling to even think of. And of course he could think of nothing else. They must be on the right track; they had to be!

Enquiries had revealed that Cole had exchanged his gig for a hired closed carriage and was heading north. Informants had further disclosed that Cole had his sick sister with him and was conveying her home. Armed with a description of the carriage, Jack and Francis had ridden furiously onwards, enquiring at every village.

The moon rose; its pale beams silvered the countryside. Francis cast a worried look at Jack. It was perfectly obvious that Jack was almost at the end of his tether, and in a great deal of pain. “We should rest up for a short time, old chap. Give the horses a break, you know.”

“And leave her a moment longer than necessary in the hands of that fiend?” Jack’s tone brooked no argument. “He has kidnapped her to force a wedding. He cannot possibly reach the border in less than two nights. That means he intends to force her, Francis. Tonight. Do you think I can rest, even for a short while, while she is in the hands of that madman?”

“Ah, don’t torture yourself, Jack. I agree, the direction seems to indicate he is making for Gretna, but he has no reason to know he is pursued. He has no reason to force her tonight.”

Jack opened his mouth to reply when something caught his eye. He wrenched his horse to a halt, backed up and peered down a narrow lane. “Do you see what I see?”

Down the lane, silhouetted against the silver sheen of a small pond, was a shape which could have been that of a travelling carriage. Beside it was a small cottage. Exchanging silent glances, the men quietly walked their steeds down the lane.

The cottage was old and run-down. It was clear from the weeds that surrounded it that no one had lived there for years. They dismounted and crept closer. A figure moved inside, illuminated by a candle. It was Cole, bending over a motionless shape on a pallet on the floor.

The door crashed open. Cole swung round in fright. The high colour drained from his face and his lips began to writhe in a ghastly attempt at a smile as he perceived the face of the large black shape in the doorway. “Er…ah…”

“Get away from her,” said Jack in a soft voice that chilled Cole’s bones to the marrow.

Cole scuttled sideways as far as he could.

“If you have touched so much as a hair on her head, you’re a dead man,” Jack said in that same chilling tone, moving towards the pallet. He laid a gentle hand on Kate’s cheek, smoothing the hair back from her forehead. Her eyelids fluttered and she moaned.

“What the devil have you done to her, you blackguard?”

“Nothing, nothing on my life, I swear it!” gabbled Cole. “She is not hurt, only drugged.”

“Drugged!” said Francis from the open doorway.

Cole started and turned towards the door. “Only a little laudanum, I swear it…it was just that she strugg—” He found himself grabbed by his collar and flung against the wall.

“Struggled, did she, you filthy swine?” snarled Jack. “And do I have to ask why she felt the need to struggle?” A rock-like fist slammed into Cole’s stomach, and he doubled over, gasping for breath. Another one crashed into his jaw with a resounding crack. Then he was ruthlessly dragged up by the hair and shaken like a rat. Blazing blue eyes met his.

“I’ll teach you to abduct innocent girls!”

Two more punches smashed into Cole, almost simultaneously. His nose felt as if it had exploded. Cole collapsed.

“Get up, you blackguard,” roared Mad Jack Carstairs. “I haven’t finished with you yet! Not by a long shot!” He reached down and grabbed the blubbering Cole by the throat. He smiled, a peculiarly sinister smile which sent the blood draining from Cole’s face, and said softly, “I’m going to kill you, you know that?”

Cole had always thought himself a big man, but now he found himself dangling by the throat, being slowly choked to death by an enraged madman. He struggled, but it was as if he was a rabbit in the grip of an eagle. His face began to turn purple and his eyes bulged as the powerful hands tightened their relentless grip around his throat.

“Jack…?” The faint, wavering voice came from the pallet.

Cole was tossed aside like a bundle of rags. He lay on the floor, gasping for breath like a beached and battered fish. Jack bent