Stealing the Heiress (The Kidnap Club Book 2) Read online

  “The island’s small. We’ll find him,” he assured her.

  “I have little idea what to do if he’s not here.”

  He squeezed her hand and pulled her into him. “We’ll figure that out together.”

  Her expression softened a little and she nodded. “Yes, we will.”

  Just as he hoped they’d figure out their future together. He just had to consider how to broach the subject. But first, they had to find her Uncle Albert.

  Once they reached Fishbourne, they headed toward the dock where the majority of the inns were clustered. The scent of fish lingered in the air and the main street was cluttered with market stalls and carts filled with produce. Most of the buildings were painted white with blackened window frames and wooden beams.

  Keeping hold of her hand, Russell carved a path through the crowded, narrow roads until they emerged out near the sea once more. Several masted ships were docked and wooden crates and barrels cluttered the main road. He gestured to the first inn.

  “Let’s try here. The ferryman said this was the finest inn on the island.”

  She nodded. “I hope he’s here,” she murmured as he led her into the tall white building.

  He approached the main desk and rang the bell. The low murmur of conversation could be heard from the room next door, which he assumed was the dining room. His stomach grumbled and Rosamunde chuckled.

  “Hungry again?”

  He gave her a look. “Someone made me miss the morning meal.”

  “If you had arisen earlier, we would not have missed it.”

  He leaned on the desk and gave the bell another ring. “If someone had not kept me up late, I would have been able to rise earlier.”

  She folded her arms. “Are you complaining?”

  “God, no.” He shook his head with a grin. “Never.” He scowled and peered around. “Where the devil is everyone?”

  “Likely still serving the morning meal.” She peered through the glass window of the door to the dining room. “Let us go see.”

  She nudged open the door and he followed her into a narrow dining room that occupied much of the front of the building, making the most of the morning sunlight. He shut the door behind him and nearly crashed into Rosamunde when she froze.

  “Rosie?”

  “Uncle Albert...”

  “What?”

  “Uncle Albert,” she repeated, loudly enough for a gentleman to lift his head from eating his meal.

  “Little Rosie!” The man waved his hand vigorously.

  Rosamunde marched over to the older gentleman. Russell had seen paintings of him at Albert’s house, but the man was a little more ruddy-faced than the pictures and his faded red hair sat at all sorts of strange angles.

  He showed no signs of some awful ordeal, though. His clothes were clean and neat, and he caught the glimmer of a pocket watch chain hanging from his waistcoat, so he had not been robbed it seemed. He followed Rosamunde over, keeping back slightly.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked, gesturing for them to join him. He glanced up at Russell. “And who is this chap?”

  She opened her mouth then shut it, peering at the large meal before him and what looked to be a nearly empty bottle of wine. “This is the man I hired to help me find you.” She exhaled. “Uncle Albert, I thought you were in trouble.”

  A white eyebrow lifted. “Trouble? Goodness, no. Well, sort of, but that’s all over now.” He motioned to the chairs. “Sit, sit. You look a little tired.”

  “That’s because I have been searching for you.” She dragged out the chair, sitting with a huff, and Russell sat next to her. “I received no word from you, Uncle. I would normally have received at least two letters from you by now.”

  He grimaced and waved a hand. “I know, I just didn’t get the time.” He leaned in. “I went to France,” he confided.

  “And there is no post there?” she demanded.

  “Not where I was.” He cracked a wide grin. “I came here to retrieve some wine but the chaps who bring it in got in a little pickle, hiding from some customs men. The next thing I know, they’re taking off and I’m still on their ship. Ended up in France, can you believe it?”

  She shook her head slowly. “You were on a ship with smugglers?”

  Uncle Albert nodded vigorously. “Quite the adventure, do you not think?” He patted her hand. “I’ll tell you all about it when I come home.”

  “I was worried for you,” she said. “I thought you were dead!”

  “Me? Dead?” He poured another glass of wine, filling it halfway then peering into the end of the empty bottle. “It takes a bit more than a quick trip across the channel to kill me off.”

  She narrowed her gaze at him. “How long have you been here? On the island?”

  He pressed a finger to his lips. “Oh, about two weeks.”

  Her cheeks grew rosy and Russell recognized the tension in her body. Rosamunde was not happy at all and he did not much envy Albert being on the wrong side of her.

  “So enough time to write me a letter,” she declared.

  Uncle Albert waved the empty bottle at a nearby barmaid. “Well, the seas were a little choppy so I wasn’t certain I could get one to you, and, if I’m honest, I got a little tangled up in a new business venture.” His smile broadened. “I’ve commissioned a ship.”

  “A ship?” she repeated.

  “There’s a high demand for French wine and no one can meet it considering the restrictions still in place on the country.” He looked to Russell. “You look like a gentleman of the world. Fancy an excellent investment?”

  “Uncle, you’re considering...” She glanced around. “Smuggling?” she murmured.

  He shrugged. “Well, we are no longer at war with France so it’s hardly the terrible crime it was before.”

  She stared at him for a few moments then rose suddenly from the table. “Russell, I think I wish to leave.”

  ROSAMUNDE DIDN’T WAIT to see if Russell had followed her out of the inn.

  She strode a few paces from the building and paused by a galley ship that towered over her to take a breath. She felt a fool.

  And she felt a fool in front of Russell. Of course her uncle was fine. Of course her family had been right. Trust her to take her imaginings too far and think he was in trouble when he was merely sitting in a hotel dining room, drinking wine and apparently entirely unbothered by her concern.

  Russell put a hand to her shoulder. “Rosie?”

  She twisted. “You must think me foolish.”

  “Never.”

  “I cannot believe he is here. Just...just eating and drinking without a care in the world.”

  “I know.”

  “He could have at least sent a letter.”

  “He could have.”

  She glanced around. “I should have listened to my family. Now I have dragged you all the way here and for what? To watch my uncle drink a whole bottle of wine?”

  He grasped her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. “You did the right thing. You followed your instinct.”

  “My instincts were wrong!”

  He shook his head. “They were not wrong, Rosie. He was involved with smugglers. That sounds dangerous even to me.”

  She shoved her glasses up her nose. “Everyone always talks of Uncle Albert vanishing and getting up to adventures and I always wanted to be a part of that. It sounded so exciting, you know?”

  “I know.”

  “But I’m aggravated by how careless he’s been. How he did not consider how I might feel not hearing from him.” She paused and drew in a long breath. “And I’m annoyed at myself for wanting similar.”

  “You’re not wrong to dream, Rosie,” Russell insisted. “There’s never anything wrong with that.”

  “I am certain you have never had a flight of fancy in your life.”

  “I’ve had many—mostly about warm beds and large meals.”

  “But not about silly things like...like taking off with an archaeolog
ist or being taken by a pirate.”

  His lips tilted. “You were kidnapped by me, does that count?”

  She could not help but smile. “Almost.” She shoved a strand of hair from her face. “I am sorry to have wasted your time.”

  A dark brow lifted. “Do you consider it a waste of time?”

  She eyed him, seeing the hesitancy in his gaze, and shook her head. “No. Not at all.”

  “Good.” He gave her a firm kiss. “What do you wish to do now?”

  She let her shoulders drop. “I think I want to go home. I have little intention of staying around and watching my uncle drink the island dry.”

  “You should probably at least let him know you are leaving.”

  “I suppose.”

  “Rosie, if there’s anything I know about you, it’s that you love your family, no matter what. Don’t let this misunderstanding get in the way of your relationship with your uncle.” He chuckled and shook his head.

  “What is it?”

  “An orphan giving advice on family...It’s a little ironic.”

  “You’re not wrong though.” She sighed. “I’ll let him know we are leaving.”

  “I had better find out when the next ferry is. Shall I meet you back here?”

  “Yes.” She twisted then paused, turning back and looping her arms around his neck then giving him a long kiss.

  “What was that for?”

  “For being a wonderful man.” She grinned. “Who would have thought this is where we’d end up when you kidnapped me?”

  “I think I was simply lucky to get away with my life,” he said dryly. “You and that knife are quite a vicious combination.”

  “I have another,” she told him.

  He rolled his eyes. “Of course you do. Are you ever weaponless?”

  “Never.”

  He pressed his lips to her forehead. “Meet me here. Don’t go wandering. There could be rough sorts in this area.”

  “I won’t.”

  She watched him head back in the direction of the beach then drew up her shoulders. He wasn’t wrong. Uncle Albert needed to know she was departing, and she could not leave things like this.

  As frustrated as she was, she should have expected as much. She envied her uncle’s life so much sometimes but the irresponsibility of it...she had never seen it highlighted so strongly before. It made her all the more grateful for the stability of her huge, boisterous family.

  It made her grateful for Russell. And made her wish for other things from him.

  A hand clapped over her mouth and another around her waist as she twisted to head back to the inn, hauling her to a halt. She released a scream, but it was muffled by the strong palm, pinching at her face.

  The scent of sea salt mingled with the stench of stale sweat. She screamed and writhed against the vicious hold that crushed against her ribs. Her glasses slipped from her nose and she heard a crunch as they hit the ground.

  “Take her to the ship,” someone said, his voice low and gruff.

  Rosamunde kicked out, meeting shin and hearing a satisfying grunt.

  “She bloody hurt me,” her kidnapper said.

  Another man moved into her line of sight and snatched her skirts, grabbing one leg then the other. She tried to kick out of his bruising grip but to no avail. They carried her toward a ship and up a gangplank and dropped her feet onto the deck. She stilled for a moment, casting her gaze about.

  The man behind her kept her held firm whilst the other eyed her and curled a rope around his fists. Her pulse pounded in her ears, her breaths came fast. As tempted as she was to lash out, she needed to try to remain calm and assess the situation.

  There were only two men—both fairly strong, wearing ragged clothes. The man in front of her had sunbeaten skin and a large floppy hat that must do a terrible job at protecting him from the sun.

  “We’ll tie her up,” he said, “then send word to her uncle.”

  Uncle? What on Earth was going on?

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “Tie up her wrists,” said the man holding her.

  Rosamunde concentrated on breathing, drawing each steady breath in and out through the gap between the man’s hands. His sweaty fingers pinched her face and almost blocked her nostrils, leaving her lightheaded. There were still only two men on the ship as far as she could tell, and they were most certainly stronger than her but if she could just get to her knife...

  She tried to evade the man with the rope, but he grabbed one wrist and bound it tightly. She cried out against the hand across her mouth when the coarse rope chafed her skin.

  Then he snatched the other and bound her hands together in front of her. Wriggling against the hold the burly man had on her, she bit down on his fingers and he released her with a yelp.

  “She bit me!”

  Spinning on her heel, she raced toward the gangplank. She came mere inches from escape when an arm banded around her waist, winding her. She gasped in a breath and screamed as loud as she could. The back of a hand connected with her face, the sting burning through her cheek and disorientating her.

  “She’s Wood’s niece to be sure,” the man holding her muttered. “She’s as much a pain in the arse as he is.”

  “What do you want with me?” she gasped.

  He dropped her onto the deck, and she landed heavily on her rear, unable to brace herself with her bound hands. Her cheek throbbed and she tasted the bitter tang of blood. Both men towered over her, their shapes silhouetted against the sun.

  Perhaps if she could understand what they wanted, she could negotiate her way out. Clearly, making a run for it wasn’t going to work and she needed to gather her senses. She tried to swallow the knot gathered in her throat and forced herself to talk calmly.

  “Whatever it is you want, I can help. I have money if that’s—”

  The smaller man chuckled. “We have money. And we’ll have more if your uncle keeps his nose out of our business.” He folded his arms. “As yet, he has been unpersuaded but now we have you, I think he’ll be willing to leave the island rather swiftly.”

  “I do not understand.”

  The man crouched to eye her. “All you need to do is behave and we’ll release you.”

  She glanced from man to man. “I can speak with my uncle if you wish. I’m sure I can persuade him to leave.”

  He shook his head. “The man is oblivious. No manner of threats work on him. But I reckon he’d do anything to save a pretty woman like you.” He stroked a finger across her cheek.

  She shrank away from his touch. “What are you going to do with me?”

  “Nothing, if you behave, as I said.” He straightened. “We’re not in the habit of hurting women, not if we can help it. Draws too much attention to our...business, you see.”

  “You’re smugglers.”

  He smirked and nudged the second man. “She’s a clever one.”

  The other man nodded. “I’ll hurt her if you need me to, boss.”

  Her chest tightened. The man who had snatched her had a ruthless air about him and she had no reason to believe otherwise. She needed to get off this ship, and fast.

  “We’re not drawing attention to ourselves, Bowcher, like I just said,” the man said through gritted teeth. “I swear your mother must have dropped you on your head when you were a babe.”

  “Please release me,” she begged. “I would not wish you to get into trouble.”

  “We won’t,” the boss said. “Islands like this one rather like our types. We bring in plenty of money and look after our own. It’s only the damned customs men that have a problem with us.”

  “But you just said—”

  “Look,” he thrust a finger at her, “I don’t want to go killing some posh lady type but there’s nothing to say we can’t get away with hurting you a little, so I suggest you behave, unless you want another slap?” He rose a threatening hand.

  She twisted away from the threat of his hand and shook her head.

  “Excellent
.” He grinned, revealing gappy teeth. “All you need to do is behave, then we’ll send word to your uncle and you can go free, got it?”

  She nodded vigorously.

  He jerked his head toward Bowcher. “Tie her up properly over there. Don’t want her making another run for it.” He rubbed a hand over her face. “At least she was easier to grab than her uncle. That damned man is never alone.” He chuckled. “I’m afraid you were rather in the wrong place at the wrong time,” he told her. “We’d been hoping to snatch your uncle and ensure he...listened to us, but we couldn’t pass up an opportunity to grab his niece.”

  Bowcher snatched her arms, his fingers digging into her upper arm. Her heart pounded hard, nausea rolling up in the back of her throat. She couldn’t let them tie her up. She just couldn’t.

  WHEN RUSSELL ARRIVED back at the inn, he saw no sign of Rosamunde. He scowled to himself, scanning the docks. Perhaps she had decided to make up with her uncle. He ducked into the building and found Albert at the same table, polishing off another glass of wine. He peered up at Russell as his shadow crossed the table.

  “Join me for a drink? I should like very much to know how you met my niece.”

  “Is she here?”

  “Here? No, dear chap. Rosie has such a strong head, it would take more than a few minutes to get her to forgive me.”

  Russell blew out a breath. Rosamunde had her moments, but he didn’t think she would have wandered off after promising to stay where she was.

  “She’ll come around,” her uncle said. “I find it best to give her a little time,” he confided.

  Russell shook his head. “She’s hardly the sort to run off sulking, sir.”

  He lifted a shoulder. “I suppose you’re right.” He finished off the last sip of wine, dabbed his mouth with a handkerchief, then rose from the table.

  Russell tightened his jaw, a knot building in his chest. He didn’t like it. Rosamunde was alone on an island known for housing smugglers and blackguards. And his palms itched. Something wasn’t right.

  He strode out of the building, ignoring Albert’s protests about his pace, and scanned the docks again. No pretty woman in a blue gown stood out amongst those working.

  “Where the bloody hell is she?”