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My Favorite Marquess. Alexandra BassettЧитать онлайн книгу.

My Favorite Marquess - Alexandra Bassett


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it sounded as if the Brute had continued on past this tunnel. She increased her pace. The water was to her knees here, which was cause for worry. What if she did become trapped?

      As if in mocking reply to that question, she hit another wall. She would have to make her way out to the main passage and hope that she could avoid the smuggler in the dark. For all she knew, he was as turned around as she was by now, or had even passed her. She just might be able to return to the beach and make good her escape.

      But as she took two steps back toward the mouth of the cave and fell into hip-deep water, she knew she would never make the beach. She had to turn in the direction taken by Robert the Brute and hope that he wouldn’t notice her in the dark.

      She scooted as close as she could to the side of the passage and started to move cautiously forward.

      Sebastian detected the slight swishing of water as Violet crept closer to him, though he could not judge for certain how close. So, like a cat waiting to pounce, he held his breath and stood perfectly still.

      He couldn’t believe she had fled to this cave, a disgusting place, in order to escape him! His disguise as Robert the Brute must be more fearsome than he’d imagined. Which was ironic, considering that he feared he had given himself away as a gentleman countless times. At any rate, he doubted a real smuggler would have been able to resist the urge to club Violet on her pretty head. He had only achieved that feat by summoning a wellspring of forbearance he had never dreamed he had inside himself. It also helped to be able to yell at her.

      And to think he had found her merely irritating in those letters!

      He still wasn’t sure what had prompted him to kidnap the woman. It was only desperation that had made him stop her vehicle. He had been playing decoy this evening, leading the excise man as far away from Jem and his boat as was possible when he had suddenly lost his horse and become cut off. It had seemed providential when he’d spotted a carriage foolishly lumbering along the quiet road after dark. It was true that he didn’t want the carriage turning around and going to the authorities before he had a time to meet up with the boat from France; he hadn’t been entirely certain how he was going to manage that without taking a hostage. But it was only when he realized that the carriage he had blundered into belonged to none other than Violet Treacher, his letter-writing nemesis, that his decision had been made. What could be a better introduction to her new neighborhood than being kidnapped by a smuggler?

      Maybe it would make her appreciate the benefit of selling him that wretched property of hers.

      But Mrs. Treacher was proving to be troublesome in more than just her unwillingness to part with her late husband’s estate. In fact, she had fouled things up completely. Thanks to her, he was now chasing after her instead of making contact with the boat from France. Instead of trying to glean from Jem any information that had slipped across the Channel recently, he was hip deep in mucky water hoping to catch a foolish woman.

      Consequently, he had never felt more of a chucklehead himself. Or more angry. So far his dealings with Violet Treacher always seemed to end with his feeling the fool. He wondered briefly whether she was somehow doing this on purpose to task him. Maybe she had guessed his true identity and was acting like an exasperating twit on purpose. Could she be that deceitful?

      At last he heard the sounds of Violet’s breathing, and he knew she was close. The water was so high now it was going to be a near thing for them to make it to the safe room before they drowned, he realized. This thought steeled his determination. At the precise moment that she came abreast of him, he reached out and hauled her to him.

      She let out a bloodcurdling scream—Sebastian was unsure of whether he would ever hear in his left ear again—and began flailing her arms at him. Landing some significant blows, moreover. How the hell had she managed to get her hands free?

      “Let me go, you-you-you brute!”

      He tried to keep her at arm’s length as he bowed his head mockingly. “Robert the Brute, at your service.”

      “The only service you could render me is to drown or have your brains blown out by your fiendish cutthroat friends!”

      He gritted his teeth. After all, she did have some right to be angry. “We will both drown if you don’t come with me.”

      “I’d rather die than follow you a step!”

      “Fine.” Taking a breath, he dipped his knees quickly and positioned his shoulder at her waist. Then he lifted up again, hoisting her like a sack of potatoes. He managed the lift easily, though soaking wet she seemed twice as heavy as she had on dry land. She let out an astonished shriek.

      “Sorry, Highness, but there be no time to waste.” He waded hurriedly toward a cavern that he knew would be above the tide level. After her initial screaming, Violet was surprisingly quiet. No doubt she was plotting her next move. He wondered if he should confess his identity to her and explain the situation as rationally as he could.

      But that would be placing a great deal of trust in a woman who, all things considered, he trusted not one whit. And only Jem and Cuthbert knew the identity of the Brute. His disguise was essential to him now, essential perhaps even to the security of England. He was not sure a woman like Violet would be able to grasp this.

      The last few feet towards the safe chamber were steep and he was worn out by the time he crossed the threshold. He dumped his load to the ground quite unceremoniously.

      As Violet’s posterior made sudden and jarring impact with the cold rock of the floor, she quickly found her voice again.

      “Oaf! I think you’ve broken my back!”

      “That’s not your ‘back’ I tossed you down on. If anything, you’ve busted your a—”

      “I’ll thank you to keep a civil tongue in your head!”

      Sebastian laughed, then made his way to a corner, where he went about striking flint to light the candle stored there. Within moments, the small flame illuminated the chamber.

      Judging from Violet’s expression, the lady would have preferred to remain in darkness. The chamber was not appealing. It was about eight feet square. In the corner stood the table that contained the candlestick he’d lit, along with a small keg. Sebastian shook it and was relieved to find that it was not empty. At least they wouldn’t go thirsty.

      He reached inside his coat and pulled out a flask that he proceeded to fill from the keg. Unable to resist, he took a long sip before setting it down on the table. God, that tasted good. He had needed a good slug of something after the day he’d had. He started to unfasten his shirt.

      His companion had remained quiet during the first part of his activities, but as he began to unbutton his shirt she squawked, “What are you doing?”

      “Undressing. I advise you to do the same.”

      “What?”

      “Unless you want to catch your death of a cold. There’s a blanket in the corner over there.”

      She gaped at him in astonishment mixed with more than a little trepidation. “If you think I am going to remove my clothes in your presence, you must have bats in your head!”

      Given what such a lady must think of the intentions of a blackguard like Robert the Brute, he could not help but be startled by, and not a little admiring of, her fire. “God knows this whole enterprise makes me doubt my own wisdom, Highness. I might be crazy, but I feel bound to share the one blanket with you, though you’ve been naught but a nuisance. But I have no intention of letting you get the blanket soaked, so if you don’t remove that sodden gown, I will personally strip it from your pretty backside.”

      “You wouldn’t dare!”

      “On the contrary, it would be my pleasure to undress you.” He aimed a leering grin at her. “Is that what you wish, perhaps?”

      Her mouth opened and closed, giving her the appearance of an outraged, beached fish.

      He


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