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‘Women don’t fight back, they do as they’re told,’ he said and smiled as cold ice trickled down her spine. Her anger was congealing into fear and she struggled not to let that show on her face. Bullies fed on fear, she knew that. ‘I didn’t get much fun for my pains last time. Now, I can only hope you’ve learned a trick or two from your baron.’
Julia saw it in his eyes, the truth that he was more than capable of dragging her into that bedchamber and ravishing her all over again. No one who cared for her knew she was there, Will thought she was dead, she had walked into this trap of her own volition. No one was going to get her out of it if she could not.
Julia curled her free fingers into talons and lashed out even as she realised that Jonathan had been expecting just that. He caught her arm and pulled her in close, so tight she could hardly struggle, then freed his grip on her wrist so he could hold her with one arm while he forced her chin up. She bared her teeth at him.
‘You’ll smile for me nicely, my dear, unless you want gaps in those pretty teeth,’ he said. ‘And if you bite, I can promise you a whipping.’
He bent his head and took her mouth with his, the same mouth she had sought to place shy, loving kisses on when they were courting. Julia tightened her lips, resisted the thrust of his tongue. She was going to survive this and she would see him brought to justice for wh
at he had done. Now she could only endure.
At her back the door slammed open like the crack of doom. ‘Jonathan Dalfield, I presume? Take your hands off my wife or I will break your neck,’ said a voice she scarcely recognised.
Jonathan freed her with a shove that sent her reeling across the room hard against Will’s chest. She grasped his forearms, looked up into burning amber eyes and saw nothing but murder there. ‘Will, thank God—’
Will glanced down at her, one searching, scorching stare. ‘Thank God I’ve found you. I did not expect to find you here.’ He touched one finger to her cheek. ‘He had his hands on you. His mouth.’ Then he pushed her gently into the arms of the man who had followed him into the room and took a step forward.
‘Will!’
‘Never fear, Lady Dereham, you are safe now,’ the man holding her said. He tried to bundle her out of the door but she stuck in her heels.
‘Major Frazer?’ How on earth had he got here? ‘No, please stop pushing me, I must stay with Will.’
‘There will be violence, ma’am,’ the major said pedantically. ‘It is no fit place for a lady.’
She simply ignored him. The Priors were standing together close to the bedchamber door, their faces white. Jonathan had backed up as far as the table and stood at bay, his hand at his side as though trying to grip the sword that was not there.
‘You think that even if we had weapons I would duel with you as though you were a gentleman, a man of honour?’ Will’s voice dripped contempt.
‘Julia ran back to me of her own free will,’ Jonathan said. ‘Why do you think she is here? Your quarrel is with her.’
‘You seem to have a death wish,’ Will observed. He pulled off his gloves, finger by finger, tossed them on to a chair, shrugged out of his greatcoat, laid that on top and added his hat, for all the world as though he was settling down for a comfortable chat. But Julia could read him now and what she saw was cold, focused fury.
‘Don’t kill him,’ she gasped.
‘You see?’ Jonathan’s sneering voice was at odds with his white face. There was a nerve twitching in his cheek and he did not seem to know what to do with his hands. ‘She would protect me.’
‘Lady Dereham appears to think that you are not worth hanging for. She is probably correct.’ Will took a step forwards. ‘So I will just have to deal with you some other way. Frazer, get her out of here.’
‘No!’
‘I am very sorry, Lady Dereham.’ Major Frazer picked Julia up bodily and marched out of the door, pushed it shut with his shoulder, then leaned against it when she lunged for the door handle. ‘I apologise for the liberty, but that is no place for a lady.’
‘There are three of them in there and Jonathan Dalfield will not fight fairly,’ she panted, trying to reach the door handle, but the major was almost as solid as Will. There was a crash from inside the room.
‘Will won’t be fighting fairly either,’ Major Frazer said with a grin that faded as he took in her distress. ‘You forget I knew him in his army days. He duels like a gentleman, but he fights scum like a gutter rat. There is no cause for alarm, I promise you. Ah, landlord.’
Julia turned as the man came running up the stairs. ‘What is going on, sir? I’ll not stand for fighting and my rooms being smashed up! I’ll call the constables, I warn you.’
‘Excellent idea,’ the major said. ‘Send for them at once. Your guests have set on this lady’s husband in an unprovoked manner—I can only hope they have sufficient money to pay for the damages.’
‘But if the constables come they might arrest Will,’ Julia protested, as the man turned and ran downstairs, shouting for the pot boy. The door at the major’s back was hit with a massive crash that had him rocking on his feet.
‘When they come, if we are still here, they will be met by me, in my capacity as a London magistrate, investigating a case of extortion and the forcible imprisonment of a lady. With any luck, we’ll be away before it comes to that.’
‘You are a magistrate?’
He nodded, his head half-turned as though listening. It had gone very quiet. ‘Will knew I was at my town house. Ah, here we are.’
