A Wedding By Dawn. Alison DeLaine

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СКАЧАТЬ felt her braid tumble down her back. Her pulse thundered and she lunged for the sailor, gripping his arm. “Sir, you must help me. I beg you. I need you. I need you to—” devil take it, words! words! “—compromise me. Carnally.” The mix of interest and confusion in his eyes told her he didn’t speak English. Desperately she switched to Italian. “Come with me. I need you. My body—” now there were even fewer words “—my body needs you.” Her frantic fingers fumbled with the buttons on her waistcoat, her vest. But now it was clear he understood. That gold tooth flashed with his grin. His arm snaked around her, and his hand took possession of her left breast. There was a light in his eye—no, she didn’t like that light, but it was better than—

      “India!” William’s voice bellowed above the crowd.

      “We must go!” She tried to pull him off his stool, but he wouldn’t budge. He laughed and said something to the men around them—where had all these men come from? Moorish. He was speaking Moorish. “Now!” She couldn’t speak much, but Rafik the boatswain had bellowed that word constantly aboard Katherine’s ship.

      Apparently thinking he was obeying her order, he pulled her closer and buried his face against the side of her neck.

      “No, not here!” She only knew the Italian. Moorish, Moorish—what was Moorish for—

      But then it was too late, because Nicholas Warre was on them. He grabbed the sailor by the arm. The sailor pushed her aside and launched himself at Mr. Warre. A dozen men reached to take the sailor’s place, pulling and yanking on her, groping her breasts and her buttocks. Her own scream pushed bile into her throat.

      The sailor’s hollow-cheeked companion threw himself at William, as the sailor landed a solid fist across Nicholas Warre’s murderous face.

      William and the other man fell together against a chair. Above the chaos she heard Millie scream. Desperately India fought the men who grabbed her, but there was no escape. Her pistol—she couldn’t let them find her pistol! She used her elbow to jab, defend, keep groping hands from closing around her prize. Its weight dug into the waistband of her breeches. She tried to wedge herself against the table, but the hands and bodies and shouting and stench were everywhere.

      The hollow-cheeked sailor struck William on the side of the head. He stumbled into a fallen stool, and she heard herself scream again. They couldn’t hurt William! Oh, God—this had to stop! Her pistol—it would be useless against this mob even if she could manage to draw it out.

      Nicholas Warre sent the gold-toothed sailor flying. A hand sneaked between her legs and she tried to shove it away but couldn’t.

      William lurched off the fallen stool and threw a right, left, right. Blood spurted from the hollow-cheeked sailor’s nose. The commotion inside the tavern was deafening. Another man took a swing at Nicholas Warre, but he ducked and someone else took the hit. A new fight erupted, and the chaos grew. Hands closed sickeningly around her waist, an inch from the pistol’s grip.

      And then, suddenly, Nicholas Warre had her by the arm and wrenched her free.

      “This way!” he shouted in her ear.

      “Millie—”

      “Jaxbury’s got her. Run, damn you!” His hand clenched hers painfully as he dragged her out of the tavern. She stumbled on the cobblestones, trying to keep up with him as they raced down the street. Moments later, he yanked her into a pitch-dark alley and shoved her against the wall.

      “Don’t you ever,” he seethed at her, nose to nose and out of breath, “do anything that stupid again.”

      “Leave Malta this instant and I guarantee you I shan’t.” She tried to push him away, but he was solid stone.

      “Your recklessness could have gotten both me and Jaxbury killed—never mind the fate that would have befallen you.” He drew in a sharp, ragged breath. “Is that how you planned to bestow your virtue? In a tavern with thirty sailors taking turns between your legs?”

      She told herself she was trembling out of anger, not fear. “You’d best return to the safety of your London drawing room, Mr. Warre,” she taunted. “It’s clear you haven’t the constitution for Mediterranean life.” Except it was clear he had the constitution for any life he might choose. Faint light from the street caught the white flap of his torn shirt and a gleam of blood near his mouth. His wig was gone, and his dark hair stuck out everywhere.

      “Then what a blessing that you and I will be returning to London posthaste,” he drawled.

      No. They would not. But arguing that point would get her nowhere. “You are wasting your time here,” she told him flatly, and reminded herself that if not for him the danger never would have arisen in the first place. “I will not marry you. I’ll kill you first.”

      “Will you.” His eyes were nothing more than shadowed hollows.

      His hands burned through her sleeves. He smelled faintly of cologne—something spicy and aristocratic and much too expensive for someone in his financial condition. Faint light from the street brought his face into chiseled relief, and a renegade nerve flared to life in her belly.

      Betrothed. He fancied he had captured her as his prize. Perhaps he wasn’t so wrong after all.

      The weight of her pistol sat heavy in the band of her breeches. “Yes. And after what you did to Katherine Kinloch—” India began.

      “If bringing a bill of pains and penalties against her was a capital crime, I have little doubt my sister-in-law would have murdered me herself.”

      “I shall happily take on the responsibility.”

      “Bold words from one who actually has committed a capital crime against the lady in question. You do realize you could hang for stealing her ship?”

      Her pistol would put a quick end to this if only she could grab it and fire before he had time to react. There would be seconds, no more. There might be opportunity for nothing more than to gut-shoot him.

      A queasy spell dizzied her head.

      “We merely borrowed the Possession, Mr. Warre. Every moment you waste here with me is a moment you could be searching a way to satisfy your debts. You have greed and selfishness enough for ten men. I have every confidence that you will soon find an alternative method of relief.”

      “Praise, indeed. Fortunately for me, my search ended the moment I found you in that tavern.”

      “Your search, Mr. Warre, will end when your body lies cold at my feet.” She inched her hand toward her pistol. “I demand that you let me go. Now.”

      “Nothing in the world would please me more.”

      “Then—”

      “But I have a vested interest in keeping you.”

      “I’ll not give my consent to a marriage with you.” She raked him with disdain and gave a laugh that sounded more like choking. “Not ever.”

      “I don’t need your consent.”

      “Yes, you do. A marriage requires—”

      “The only thing our marriage will require, Lady India, is an officiant and a consummation. The СКАЧАТЬ