Forever a Lady. Delilah Marvelle

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ and removed their gags.

      Choked sobs escaped the girls as they jumped toward each other, clinging. The lopsided wool gowns they wore were crudely stitched and most likely not what they had been wearing when they had been taken from the orphanage.

      Matthew’s throat tightened. He knew that if not for the interference of him and his men, these two girls, who had disappeared from the orphanage all but earlier that week, would have been sold to a brothel. Shoving his pistols into his leather belt, Matthew gestured toward the balding man. “Rope this prick up before I do.”

      The man shoved past Kerner and Plunkett, and darted, running down the street.

      Shite! All of Matthew’s muscles instinctively reacted as he sprinted after the man, leveling his limited vision.

      “I told you we should have killed him!” Cassidy boomed after him. “What good are pistols if we never use them?”

      “Everyone move!” Matthew yelled back, running faster. “Spread out! Coleman, stay with the girls!”

      Matthew refocused on the shadowed figure who was already halfway down the street, those thick legs splashing through muddy puddles as his cloak flapped against the wind blowing in.

      Matthew pumped his legs and arms faster and sped into the darkness. Through the sparse light of the moon and passing lampposts, Matthew could see the man repeatedly glancing back, his self-assured run turning into a jogging stagger as the balding man huffed and puffed in an effort to keep moving.

      The man wasn’t used to running.

      The man was used to the cart.

      And this was where he, Matthew, who did nothing but run for a damn living, brought an end to the bastard’s grand delusions of escape. Closing the remaining distance between them, and just before a narrow alleyway between two buildings, Matthew reached out and grabbed the man hard by the collar of his cloak.

      Gritting his teeth, Matthew flung his body against that hefty frame, knocking them both down and into the mud with a skidding halt, spraying water and thick sludge everywhere.

      As they rolled, Matthew used his weight to stay on top, shoving the man back down. The bastard punched up at him, hurling frantic blows that rammed Matthew’s shoulders and chest.

      Holding the man down with a rigid forearm that trembled against that resisting body, Matthew swung down a clenched fist, thwacking him in the head, sending his balding head bouncing against the mud beneath. “Stand down, you son of a bitch! Stand down before I—”

      “We got him!” Bryson yelled, pushing in and setting a quick knee against the man’s throat.

      In between ragged breaths, Matthew scrambled up to his booted feet. He staggered back, feeling mud sloughing off his arms and trouser-clad thighs.

      Cassidy skidded in, spraying more mud and shoved aside Bryson’s knee. “I’ll bloody show you how things are done over in Ireland.”

      Effortlessly jerking the man up and out of the mud, Cassidy swung a vicious arm around his throat, causing the man to gag and stagger. Bryson scrambled over with the rope.

      Once the man’s arms were tightly roped against his sides, Kerner jumped forward and, with a growl, delivered a swinging fist into the man’s gut. “That’s for every girl you ever touched, you feck!” He swung back his arm and delivered another blow, causing the man to gasp and stagger against the ropes. “You think you can—” Kerner jumped forward again and punched that face, a pop resounding through the night air.

      “Kerner!” Matthew boomed.

      Kerner stumbled back and swung away, his chest heaving.

      Matthew swallowed, trying to calm the chaotic beat of his own heart. Despite the reprimand, Matthew knew all too well that Kerner, who had lost his twelve-year-old daughter to a brutal rape and murder just down this very street six years earlier, was relatively calm given the situation.

      Sadly, a deeply rooted need to right the wrongs that had been committed against them was what had brought each and every one of them together. Their grief had become his own grief. They all struggled with anger. “I know this isn’t easy for you. Breathe.”

      Kerner swiped at his bearded face with a trembling hand. “Aye. I’m sorry.” As if lurching out of a trance, he said, “Tend to those girls. Coleman is probably scaring the piss out of them.”

      “Ah, leave off the man. He’s not as rough as he lets on.” Matthew flung off whatever mud he could from his hands and jogged his way back down the street until he reached the cart. “We got him,” he called out to Coleman, who was bent over the cart, waiting for the verdict.

      Coleman huffed out a breath. “Good.”

      Heading toward the back of the cart, Matthew leaned against the uneven planks of wood. Neither barefooted girl was crying anymore—thank God—but both were still tucked against the barrels they’d been removed from, huddling against each other.

      Coleman gestured toward the two. “You should probably take over. They don’t seem to like me. Or my stories.”

      Hopefully the man hadn’t been sharing the wrong sort of stories. Swiping his muddied hands against his linen shirt, Matthew held out both hands toward them and gently urged, “All of us are here to help. My name is Matthew and this gent beside you is Edward. Now. I want you both to be brave and ignore the mud and the scary eye patch. Can you be brave enough to trust me? Just this once?”

      They stared, still clinging to each other.

      Matthew lowered his hands and smiled in an effort to win them over. “Tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it. Do you want me to act like a monkey? One-eyed monkeys are my forte, you know. Just ask anyone.” He scratched his head with his fingers and softly offered, “Ooh, ooh, eee, eee, aah, aah.”

      Coleman leaned down toward them. “I can do a better monkey than he can. Watch this.” Coleman swung his long, muscled arms in the air and garbled toward them.

      The girls darted away from Coleman. Their dark braids swayed as they scrambled toward Matthew in clinging unison, as if deciding that Matthew was a better choice than Coleman.

      Matthew bit back a smile. Good old Coleman. He could always depend on the man to scare anyone into cooperation. Matthew held out both hands. “There’s no need to be frightened. He’s merely being silly. Now come. Give me your hands.”

      The girls paused before him, each slowly taking his outstretched hands, though they still clung to each other. Those small, cold fingers trembled against his own.

      Matthew gently tightened his hold on them, trying to transmit warmth and support. He leaned toward them and whispered, “Thank you for being so brave. I know how hard that was. Are you ready to go back to Sister Catherine? She’s been very worried.”

      To his astonishment, both girls flung themselves at his throat, bumping their heads against his shoulders. They sobbed against him.

      Matthew gathered them, sadly unsurprised as to how little they weighed, and draped each girl around a hip, ensuring his pistols were out of the way.

      The thudding of a single horse’s hooves echoed in the distance. The girls СКАЧАТЬ