Chapter 3 #2
Propositioning her. The thought was harsh in her mind, but if you boiled it down, that was what he had done to her.
And she had been tempted.
Heat seared across her cheeks at the thought of it, the realisation that she had been tempted to accept the offer of a wild night of passion from a stranger.
But she was no stranger to the act of lovemaking, not that it had been given to her that often by that churl of a husband. No, he had been far more focused on his own desires, not hers.
And Sir Edmund looked like he knew his way around a woman’s body: what would please, what would –
“Molly!”
Molly jumped, startled by the loud shout which had emanated from her brother Tom who was glaring at her.
“Why did you shout?”
Tom grinned. “Because I asked you a question, and I expect a particular answer from you. I said, we are going to kidnap him. Ransom him, get gold from his family. Sir Edmund indeed.”
Molly hesitated and tried not to betray the concern in her face. Not this. Not this dark path which they had been down so much times already.
“I would not bet on it. I do not believe he has much family,” she said cautiously, thinking of what he had said before.
“My family has disowned me, Miss Kimble. I am a knight, to be sure, but I should have been something far greater.”
Jack scoffed, poking the unmoving body of Sir Edmund with his foot. “Him? Look at his waistcoat, Molly, did you not listen to him? He’s a toff if ever there was one, and that means gold.”
“You take a closer look at his waistcoat, you idiot,” Molly said, her temper fraying. Was this really all they could amount to? A disagreement over a prone body in the dark of London about whether the body was worth as much as they hoped?
Jack stared at her disbelief, and then crouched down to feel the waistcoat with his coarse finger and thumb.
“Feels like silk.”
Molly sighed. “Silk that is fraying at the edges? Silk that has clearly not been washed for nigh on a month, if I am any judge, and a style of waistcoat, moreover, that went out of fashion not three years ago? He is poor, Jack, take my word for it. He was attempting to scam coins from me, and only a man down on his luck would do that to a lady.”
But her brothers would not listen. She had known they would not, known it as soon as Sir Edmund had hit the ground.
They were too far gone, and the best thing she could do was save herself.
“Well, you have a merry evening ahead of you,” she said lightly, attempting to force down the feelings of guilt and concern rising up in her soul. “I will leave you to it, and – ”
“You seemed very interested in this gentleman.” Tom stared at her, his eyes narrowing as though he could see through her. “Very interested.”
Molly’s breath caught in her throat. Tom had never truly frightened her, not really, but he was certainly able to make her think twice about crossing him.
The further away from him she could get, the better.
“He is just a gentleman I met over cards,” she said, as nonchalantly as she could. “Just a man.”
Tom smiled and Molly did not like it. “If you are so interested in him, Molls, you can join him.”
She did not move fast enough. Before she could take a step backwards, Molly’s hands were grabbed by Tom and he leered in her face, stale beer on his breath.
“Let me go,” she said forcefully in the same tone she had used when they were children.
It did not work now.
“Jack, come and help me with this,” Tom snarled.
This, thought Molly. Not her. This.
Jack looked anxious, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. But it was clear he did not dare disobey his brother.
“I have rope,” he said breathlessly, moving forward to tie together Molly’s wrists.
It was all happening too fast, it was almost unbelievable. Molly’s heart was thumping so hard, she could feel her pulse throbbing against the wiry string they quickly passed around her wrists.
"Jack – Jack let me go!” Molly struggled, kicked out, but there were two of them and only one of her. They were taller than her, stronger than her, and she had never had her brothers so wildly out of her control.
“Come on, Molls,” jeered Tom, pulling her towards the horse they had waiting. “You will be all cosy with your gentleman fri – ouch!”
Molly’s flailing shoes had caught one of his shins and Tom buckled in pain. Molly tried to wrench free, twisting her body but Jack was already there, his hands on her shoulders.
“You can go quiet,” he said in a low voice, “or you can go unconscious.”
Molly stopped struggling immediately. There was something about Jack’s voice, something she had not heard before.
Fear. But also hope. Perhaps he would rescue her, come and release her when Tom was asleep?
Because she knew where they were taking her. It was a rundown house in Cheapside, one no one cared about and no one enquired too much about. They had hidden many a person there together, in pursuit of ransoms and riches.
And now she would be one of his prisoners.
“You have to help me, Jack,” she whispered as Tom pulled her once more to the horse. “Help me.”
His eyes were wide, full of expression and fear, but he did not make a move to help her.
Within twenty minutes, she and the unconscious Sir Edmund were dropped onto the floor of the house.
Molly rose to her feet with difficulty, rushing at the door – but it was too late. Her hands bound, she could not get to the lock quick enough to prevent her brothers, her own flesh and blood, turning the key.
“See you in a few days, Molls,” came Tom’s laughing voice through the door.
Their footsteps became quieter.
Molly turned around. Lying on the floor in a tangled heap, no ropes needed at his wrists, was Sir Edmund.
They were alone.