Capturing the Bride (The Kidnap Club Book 1) Page 7

  He shook his head. “If we ever ask for ransom, we never usually take it. It is usually just a delaying tactic. We’d send another letter, claiming he had someone watching or had gone for aid. Anything to delay a hunt for you.”

  “So how is it a problem that he has not paid?”

  “He has people out looking for you.”

  A wash of cold spread through her, pooling in her stomach. “He will not find me,” she said, the statement more of a question than she wanted it to be.

  “He will not,” he said firmly. “I will make sure of that, Grace, I promise you.”

  She pressed hands to her stomach. “I only need a little while longer and then he can no longer make use of me.”

  Nash took her arms in his hands, forcing her to look at him. “We will send another letter. Russell is here to ensure it is delivered. We will have you write one, begging him to ensure your safety by calling off any searches.”

  “I suppose that might work.”

  “It will if he thinks we will harm you.”

  “Very well, I will write one straight away.”

  “Russell suggested we do something else too.”

  “Oh?”

  He touched a loose strand of hair by her face, making the hairs on her arms stand on end underneath her sleeves. “A lock of hair. Proof we have you.”

  “My hair?”

  “Yes.” He tugged a penknife out of a jacket pocket and flicked it open. She jumped at the sudden movement. He smiled. “I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

  Grace put a hand to her hair. “I am not vain but, well, I do not have many other attributes and I do like my hair.”

  His smile widened. “Grace, you have many, many attributes, and one lock of hair will not take away from that.”

  She eased out a breath and nodded. Drawing out all the pins and fisting them in one hand, she shook her hair loose with the other. “Perhaps from underneath,” she suggested, “then it will not show.”

  “Good idea.”

  Nash moved behind her. His fingers in her hair made her want to jolt again so she kept her muscles stiff, barely breathing in case she gave herself away.

  She enjoyed him touching her far too much.

  He swept aside her hair and his fingers brushed the nape of her neck. She closed her eyes and concentrated on her stifled breaths. In...out...in...was it her imagination or could she feel his breath upon her neck? In...out...Good God, how long did it take for him to cut a lock of hair?

  “Are you done?”

  His fingers jerked away from her neck and her hair fell back into place. She turned to find him holding a small lock of her hair. Brow creased, looking slightly dazed, he gave a cough. “All done,” he announced. “I’ll take this to Russell right away.”

  “Oh, the letter—”

  Gone. Vanished. With a few steps, he left the room before she could suggest she write the letter now. She eyed the spot where she’d seen him last. She held her breath and waited for him to return when he realized she had not yet written the note.

  But he didn’t return.

  “Silly,” she muttered to herself. Why did she want him to come back? So she could see that odd expression of his again and try to fathom what it was in aid of? Or so he could touch her once more? She shivered and pressed fingers to the back of her neck.

  “Silly, silly, silly.”

  Grace returned to the fire and sank onto the blanket, depositing the hair pins on the nearby table. Claude ignored the little pat of invitation she gave and remained curled as close to the fire as possible. Plucking up her book, she opened it at her scribbled notes and tugged the pencil from behind her ear. She would write the letter in a minute. First she needed to write of him. At this point, she wasn’t certain how useful noting her observations would be, but it was all she could do to get him from her mind.

  Where he most certainly, absolutely did not belong.

  Chapter Ten

  Nash peered over the top of his three-day-old newspaper, turning his attention away from the advertisement on some annual winter sale he’d forgone the first few times of reading it. Now he was stuck reading the dregs because the lad who delivered the food hadn’t been since Thursday. If he dared to fetch one himself, someone would likely recognize him and then word would get around that the house was occupied once more.

  He wouldn’t put Grace in that sort of danger, even for an up-to-date newspaper.

  He waited for her to come past the door again. Why she lingered outside he did not know. Somehow, the drawing room had become somewhat his territory whilst the library had become hers. At dinner and most breakfasts, they joined together and conversed about many matters, Grace usually bluntly educating him on anything from the mating habits of snails to the history of the writing instrument. The woman was a damned walking encyclopedia.

  And he liked it too much.

  Therefore, it was much easier to remain away from her at all times, lest he throw himself at her feet and beg her to marvel him with her giant brain some more. He had friends of his who decried the idea that a woman might be so bold as to think became extremely unattractive, but Grace was the ultimate disproval of that hypothesis. Every time she opened her mouth, he grew more attracted to her.

  He snorted to himself. Hypothesis. Now he was even sounding like her.

  She flitted past the door again. He waited a few moments and she repeated the movement.

  “Grace?” he called.

  He heard a huff, soft footsteps, and then she appeared back in the doorway. Fingers curled around the doorframe, she peeked her head in. “Yes?”

  “Did you want something?”

  “No.” She moved back, out of his sight, then reappeared. “Yes.” She frowned. “No.”

  “Well, which is it?”

  She stepped over the threshold and wound her hands together in front of her. “Is there word about the ransom yet? Or on my uncle’s movements?”

  Nash shook his head. “I will let you know as soon as there is.”

  “Good.” She nodded briefly. “Excellent. Well, I shall...” She paused halfway through turning around. “Are you certain this will work?”

  “The letter?”

  “Yes. No.” She waved a hand. “The whole thing. The kidnapping, the lock of hair, the hiding me away here. Will it work?”

  “Grace, it will work,” he assured her. “We’ve done this several times.”

  “But not with me.”

  “With other women. All of whom needed to escape.”

  “In different circumstances.” She swiped a strand of hair from her face. “How can you be certain it will work this time? When things are different? One cannot perform the same action with different variables and expect the same results.”

  He folded his newspaper and rose from the chair to join her by the door. “Grace, what is this?”

  “I have been thinking...” She blew out a breath. “I mean, perhaps I should go elsewhere. Go somewhere where no one knows I am there. I could go to an inn perhaps or...or...”

  “There is no way in hell you are staying in some inn,” he said firmly.

  Her wide eyes clashed with his. “But I never really thought about it—the kidnapping thing that is. And I think about everything. One minute my aunt said we were going to have your help and the next I was being whisked away here. How do I even know it will work? How can I be certain my uncle won’t find me and drag me home?”

  “Because I won’t let him.”

  She glanced at him up and down. “I do not doubt you have helped other women, but you underestimate my uncle and Mr. Worthington. You likely cannot think as they do. They are greedy men, willing to do anything to get my fortune.”

  “I know enough about needing a fortune.” He gestured to the damp patch on the ceiling. “In case you had not noticed, I could do with some coin.”

  He knew about greed too really. That desperate need for money when one was running low. His father had accused him of being such a man, but he doubted
telling Grace that would help matters.

  “But you would never force someone to marry you simply for their money.”

  He gave a small smile. “I would rather hope I would not have to force them.”

  Grace made a frustrated sound. “This is why I cannot trust this. Or trust you. You are too quick to smile and make light of the situation.”

  His heart gave a painful jolt. She didn’t trust him. Great.

  “I told you I would protect you, Grace, and I damn well will.”

  “I think that perhaps my aunt was swayed by the man leading this venture. That perhaps she wasn’t thinking straight.” She closed her eyes briefly. “I was most certainly not. I should have thought of some other way of hiding for the month.” She pressed fingers to her lips. “But I know my aunt would have been punished had I run away. I just know it.”

  “Your uncle sounds like a bastard,” he muttered.

  God, he wished she’d never had to live with the man. He wished he’d known her sooner. He could have intervened somehow. Protected her and her aunt from the cad and ensured she was never pressed into an engagement with this Worthington character.

  But, of course, he wouldn’t have noticed her had she not been placed directly in his path. Not someone without rank and wealth. The fact was, his circle had only involved the highest echelons of society and even after she had inherited her fortune, Grace would not be part of that.

  “So you see why I must go. I cannot let him catch me.”

  “You are going nowhere.”

  “I saw your friend. I saw how agitated he was when he left. He walked briskly and with a straight spine.”

  Nash rolled his eyes. Of course Grace would analyze how Russell walked and jump to conclusions. “That’s just how he walks.”

  “No, I know he was concerned.”

  Nash wasn’t going to admit that most of the concern came from the fact Russell had seen how Nash had behaved after getting that blasted lock of hair from Grace. Simply touching her neck and resisting the urge to press a kiss to her soap-scented skin had him unravelling and Russell damn well knew it. The man had offered some short, sharp words of warning.

  But he couldn’t tell Grace that.

  “Grace, I am sorry you do not trust me, but please believe me when I say this is the best place for you. Your aunt would have a fainting fit if she knew we had cast you off into some inn somewhere, and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

  “But it is the best way to ensure anonymity.” She twined her hands tighter. “And I could keep moving, ensure no one catches up to me.”

  “No.”

  “My father always used to say if I was lost, I should stay in one place and he would find me. That is precisely why I should not stay here.”

  “No.”

  “IT MAKES SENSE for me to leave.”

  She had been thinking hard on the matter. There were too many people who knew she was here. Mary, of course, then the man her aunt talked to, and the delivery boy, not to mention the driver. If she simply fled on foot, no one could know where she had gone.

  She should have just done that in the first place, just been brave and left. Now it was concluded she was kidnapped, her aunt would receive no recourse for her actions, and she could do as she wished. But for some silly reason, she felt she owed it to Nash to tell him of her plan.

  “Do you really think you could survive out there on your own?”

  “I know I am small, but I am not foolish. I could manage, I’m sure.”

  He shook his head vigorously. “You’d be eaten up in a second.”

  She kept her chin raised, too aware of how he towered over her, too conscious of the fine view of his neatly shaven jawline she had and how he smelled of warmth and fire smoke. How tempting it would be to fling herself at him and let him wrap his arms around her and protect her from a world so daunting. Except, she had little idea if he would even wish to do such a thing. So she was on her own.

  “I have to try.”

  “You are safer here.”

  “How can you know?”

  “You really think someone like you, out in the wide world of scoundrels and criminals, could survive for a moment alone?”

  She wasn’t certain but she had been thinking about it a lot. Any fate was better than being caught by her uncle and forced into marriage to Mr. Worthington. She lifted her shoulders. “I’ve survived this long under my uncle’s hand.”

  “And for that I am sorry, but do not let that force you into foolish decisions.”

  “What would you even know about making decisions?” she cried. “You don’t even have to decide what to eat every day. Mary does that for you.”

  “Damn it, Grace, I’ve made plenty of decisions in my time.”

  “Oh really?” She folded her arms. “I do not think you have ever had a moment of hardship. All you do is sit around all day and read newspapers and ride your horse and stroll around pretending to be a country gent.”

  His jaw worked. “So it comes to this, does it?” He narrowed his gaze at her. “You do not trust me and you have me marked as quite the useless sort of person.”

  “You cannot deny the evidence.”

  “Have you ever, for one moment, stopped and looked beyond evidence? Beyond what your eyes and your mind are telling you?”

  “Of course not! Why would I?”

  “Because sometimes you can get the measure of a man by listening to your heart,” he snapped.

  Grace blinked several times. His eyes were wild, his chest moving rapidly. She hadn’t known Nash could get passionate about anything but, apparently, she had affected him somehow.

  He would not sway her, though. She could not let him. He could beat his fists against his chest and talk of hearts over heads all he wished but she would not let a man dictate her movements to her, not ever again.

  “I am going to leave.”

  “I will tie you up in your bedroom if you even try.”

  “You would not.”

  He took her wrist in his hand. “Do you want to test me?”

  She inhaled a hot breath. “You cannot force me to do anything. I am done being forced, do you understand?”

  “I can if it is in your best interests.”

  “No doubt my uncle fools himself into believing a marriage to Mr. Worthington is in my best interests. And I’m certain Mr. Worthington probably thought beating his wife was in her best interests too. As did he imagine pushing her down the stairs might teach her a lesson.” Grace snatched her hand away from him. “I am utterly tired of men pretending they know what I need and what is best for me.”

  He opened his mouth then closed it and rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Grace, I—”

  “I thought I was lying earlier. In saying that I did not trust you,” she admitted. “But now you threaten to tie me up and hold me truly captive, I think I was correct. You are not to be trusted, Nash.”

  “Now that’s not true—”

  He reached for her and she ducked out of his way. “I’m going to my bedroom. You can barricade me in if you wish but I am still going to make plans to leave.”

  “I have no desire to do such a thing,” he said softly.

  “Good.” She turned on her heel and marched out of the room then hastened upstairs.

  Her eyes burned with the need to cry. She wasn’t even certain why. She had made her decision—thought it through carefully even. Leaving and telling no one where she was going was the only logical thing to do.

  And yet, the thought of leaving Nash made her heart hurt.

  And that was most certainly not logical.

  Chapter Eleven

  He was a cad.

  No.

  An ass.

  Nash shook his head. Worse than that.

  An unfeeling bastard.

  Of course he hadn’t been able to understand Grace’s fear. Of course he’d dismissed her desire to run. Told her she was a fool.

  What did he know of forced marriages and men who woul
d take advantage? He’d done nothing but sit around for the past four years, angry at his father for cutting him off. Oh yes, he’d partaken in The Kidnap Club, believing the noble cause would somehow make up for his hedonistic past but he’d done the bare minimum.

  He blew out a breath and tugged the book from the library shelf. He hoped because of her tiny height she had yet to spot it and it would be a pleasant surprise. That was if she had not gathered all her belongings and escaped out of her bedroom window yet.

  He couldn’t let her go. He was right about that much. Out there on her own, she would be vulnerable, no matter how clever she was. There would be many a man or woman even who would take advantage of her, he feared.

  That didn’t mean he had to be such an ass about her fears, though.

  No, unfeeling bastard, remember?

  Cradling the book under his arm, he snatched up the plate of cold beef and clutched the bouquet of wildflowers in his other hand.

  Today, he would do more than the bare minimum. He needed to understand exactly why Grace had agreed to the kidnapping. Not that he didn’t know now. This fiancé sounded a piece of work and it took all Nash’s willpower not to crush the delicate flower stems. Naïve, petite Grace would have no chance against such a man. He’d kill her eventually, for certain, especially once he got his hands on her money.

  God damn, he’d like to take that man in a fair fight. Get him to throw a punch at someone his equal and see what happened. He knew nothing of the man, but he knew he could take him with ease. He was strong and fast but more than that, he would have the desire to protect Grace on his side.

  But fighting was not going to fix this. No, right now, he needed to apologize to Grace and do what he arrogantly thought he was so good at—actually listen to her.

  He made his way upstairs and tapped on the door. He hadn’t expected an answer and he didn’t get one. He tapped once more and leaned into the door, listening for movement. Christ, maybe she had gone out of the window. She had several blankets in there to fend off the cold. If one tied them together, one might be able to make a rope.