Chapter Thirty-Seven
Phin forced his way into consciousness to the unmistakable sound of fists hitting flesh in a rhythm that seemed to sync with the pounding in his head.
Despite the thunder of pain bouncing about his skull, he scrambled to regain his bearings.
The panic flowing hot in his blood allowed him to recall the moments before he’d been knocked out.
A frantic glance revealed that he’d been tossed into a carriage with Iago who was slowly stirring beside him.
He didn’t think they’d been unconscious for long, yet as he thought of Eleanor, a fierce sense of urgency demanded he act swiftly.
Giving Iago a rough jostle, he muttered, “Quickly, old friend. To action.”
He opened the carriage door to see that they were in a lane running behind a row of Mayfair mansions. He had to believe he’d only been out a couple minutes and they were still at the Smithsons’ and Eleanor was only a short distance away. Any other possibility was unacceptable.
The scuffle he heard upon waking seemed to have ended as a black-clothed figure stepped around from the front of the vehicle. Phin leapt from the vehicle and squared off, fisting his hands in preparation for a fight. Then he recognized Aadesh.
“Good, you’ve awakened,” the other man said before sweeping an urgent gesture. “Get back in the carriage, we need to follow them.”
An icy wave of dread and terror slid through Phin. “Who?”
“He took Lady Eleanor. They drove off just a moment ago. I can catch them. Get in,” he ordered again, already swinging up into the driver’s seat.
Without hesitation, Phin dove back into the vehicle where Iago was sitting upright, listening intently.
He gave a firm nod, but Phin couldn’t return it.
His heart was in his throat. They’d faced treacherous foes and extremely dangerous situations in the past, but none had ever terrified him like this.
He’d completely failed her.
*
After ordering his driver and groom to assist with readying the ship, Ackerly turned back to her. “Come, my love.” He smiled. “Our future awaits.”
The man’s delusional audacity infuriated her.
He seriously thought he could just kidnap her, marry her, and take her off to India to live happily ever after?
This wasn’t a blasted fairytale. This was her life.
And she was damned tired of everyone else thinking they had the right to decide how she lived it.
It took every bit of willpower and conscious control Eleanor possessed not to wrench her hand free of his and send it flying toward his face.
Instead, she quickly lowered her gaze so he would not see the fury burning there.
Her instincts screamed for her to stall.
Stall and delay until she could determine some avenue of escape.
Once she was on that ship, there would be no further recourse.
“A moment, please,” she murmured gently.
As slowly as she could without drawing suspicion, she withdrew her hand from his and made a show of smoothing her rumpled skirts and patting her hair.
With calm intent, she brushed her fingertips along the triple-strand necklace, taking a moment to feel the shape of the honeybee.
She noted how Ackerly’s gaze followed each minute drift of her fingers.
He’d done that frequently, she realized…gotten distracted by the glint of gold and jewels. Perhaps she could use that against him.
She wished she could look around, study her surroundings, get a better idea of who was near and what—if anything—might assist her plight. Instead, she kept her focus on him.
“I wish I were more prepared for this,” she said simply, adding a helpless little wave of her hand. “I have nothing to take with me into this new life.”
“I will provide anything you need. You are under my care now.”
Eleanor bit her tongue. Under your control, you mean.
Suddenly, a shrill whistle cut through the air, ending with a dull thunk as an arrow embedded itself in the carriage only a few feet from where they stood.
Ackerly jolted and looked in the direction from which the arrow had come as Eleanor took a swift step out of his reach. She had no idea what was happening, but she was going to take full advantage of the distraction.
Another arrow sliced past Ackerly, tearing through the sleeve of his coat before sinking into the carriage as well. The horses stepped nervously, causing the vehicle to lurch forward.
Ackerly spun toward her, his expression accusing and angry. “You—” he shouted, but Eleanor widened her eyes and shook her head even as she continued to back away from him.
“No!”
She had to get out of there.
Though she wanted to believe Phin would still appear, she didn’t think he’d be shooting arrows at them.
As Ackerly’s face twisted with explosive rage and he prepped to lunge for her, a bellowing shout cut through the night.
“You’re not going anywhere, mate.”
The words—spoken in the accent of northern Scotland—drew her gaze to a very large figure wearing a greatcoat and brimmed hat that seemed to come out of nowhere, approaching slowly with a longbow drawn and an arrow trained upon Ackerly.
“Bloody bastard,” Ackerly spat. “You should be dead by now.”
“Funny thing, that,” the man noted in amusement as he continued forward. “Turns out, the assassin and I are in agreement.”
As he said the word assassin, Eleanor felt a breath of movement behind her. Before she could react, a slim arm snaked firmly around her throat as the prick of what could only be the point of a dagger poked her side.
This couldn’t be happening.
The large man towered over Ackerly as he reached them. Bringing the tip of his arrow to rest just below the lord’s chin, he lowered his tone to something fierce and angry. “It’s time you accepted that you’re not meant to have that necklace, mate.”
Ackerly scoffed. His arrogance undiminished despite the weapon aimed to kill him. “And you think you are, Weathers?”
Eleanor gasped a breath, causing the point of the dagger to prick sharply.
She knew that name. “Barnaby?” she whispered.
As soon as she said the name, the bowman turned his head in her direction. Lord Ackerly instantly took advantage of the man’s brief distraction by knocking the arrow to the side before lifting a hidden blade from his side, slicing it toward the larger man.
“Shite,” the Scotsman hissed.
While the one holding Eleanor began to drag her away from the commotion, the man she believed to be Barnaby Weathers tossed his bow aside and—completely ignoring the dagger—charged his shoulder into Ackerly’s abdomen.
They both slammed back against the carriage and a grappling, pummeling fight began in earnest.
It seemed to Eleanor that the inevitable victor was obvious. Ackerly was not a fighter. But the lord managed to shout while narrowly dodging a large fist, calling for reinforcements from the ship anchored nearby.
She could already see movement as the crew stirred, shouting in response. Very soon, they’d be swarmed.
“Please,” she muttered as she was pulled backward around the rear of the carriage. “I don’t believe I’m your enemy.”
“You’re not my friend,” a husky female voice replied with the familiar intonations of India.
Eleanor stilled. Her mind racing through possibilities of what this could all mean.
If the man in the greatcoat was Barnaby Weathers, then who was this woman? Didn’t he say something about an assassin?
Before she could finish her avenue of thought, the sound of a carriage racing toward them clashed with the pounding steps of the ship’s crew as two new groups converged upon them.
What had been a fight between two men now became an all-out brawl of multiple combatants.
Despite the sudden increase in violence and commotion, the woman pulling her away from the fray didn’t pause to see what was happening.
Eleanor was drawn deeper into the shadows around the opposite side of the carriage.
“Please,” she tried again, doing her best to resist the strength of the woman and ignore the occasional prick of the knife at her side. “I’m not with Lord Ackerly. He’s trying to abduct me. Your intervention has rescued me. If that man with you is Barnaby Weathers, then we are on the same side.”
“You’re wearing a stolen necklace,” the woman argued, clearly not convinced.
“It was part of a plan to draw Ackerly out. It worked a bit too well. Please, believe me. My friends…they might be hurt.”
“Neither you nor your friends are my concern. My duty is to protect the necklace.”
“Wait!” Eleanor gasped as a few loose pieces fell into place. “Like Aadesh.”
For the first time, the woman hesitated. Her arm tightened around Eleanor’s neck but she stopped pulling her away from the scuffle. “Where did you hear that name?”
“He is one of my friends. He was to keep watch over me as I engaged Ackerly. But something went wrong. I don’t know what happened.”
Her momentary captor didn’t reply. Nor did she release Eleanor.
“That could be him who arrived in the second carriage.”
Still nothing. The woman clearly didn’t know if she could trust her.
“Eleanor!” The desperate shout cut through the sounds of fighting.
It was Phin. Calling her name. Eleanor was suddenly awash with relief. But it didn’t last long. Even with Barnaby and possibly Aadesh to help, he was still up against an entire ship’s crew.
“They need our help,” Eleanor urged, panic crawling across her skin. “Take the necklace, if you must, but I have to go back.”
After a tense moment, the woman released a shrill whistle that managed to cut through the commotion on the other side of the carriage.
It was immediately answered by a matching whistle.
Assuming it was Aadesh, Eleanor didn’t wait any longer. As she twisted away from her captor, the woman released her and lowered the knife. Eleanor rushed back toward the melee, sensing the woman a step behind.