Pure Temptation (29 page)

Pettibone carefully set the tray on the nightstand and looked askance at Jack. “Is aught amiss, milord?”

Jack swung his legs over the edge of the bed and waited until the pain subsided before speaking. “There’s plenty amiss, Pettibone, as you well know. Set some clothes out for me while I eat. Nothing fancy, something dark and nondescript.”

Pettibone cleared his throat. “Were my eyes deceiving me, or was there a strange light in the chamber when I entered?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, Pettibone. I’m not sure I believe it myself.”

“If you say so, milord,” Pettibone sniffed. He wasn’t stupid. He knew what was going on. Only one thing could have brought about Black Jack Graystoke’s amazing transformation. From a rake well on his way to perdition, Black Jack had been transformed into the soul of respectability with a wife and a child on the way. He saw the fine hand of Lady Amelia in all this. And if he wasn’t mistaken, Lady Amelia had just paid a visit to her reformed descendant.

Dressed in unrelenting black, his wounds bound tightly, Jack left the house at precisely nine o’clock that night. Colin drove the plain black carriage to the Fatted Calf, discharged his passenger and, following Jack’s instructions, parked in the alley so as not to rouse suspicion. Jack entered into the raucous atmosphere of the crowded inn, deliberately selected a table in the farthest corner, sat down and waited for someone he recognized to show up.

Moira awoke to the inky blackness of fear and confusion. And a subtle rocking motion that sent panic racing through her. Rising gingerly, she tested her limbs and found them
somewhat unstable but uninjured. She took a step forward and tripped over an object she soon discovered was a coil of rope. A pervading odor of rotting fish stung her senses, and when she combined everything she felt and smelled, she could only deduce that she was aboard a ship. And that Lord Roger Mayhew had brought her here.

Memory of the events that took place before she fainted emerged from her sluggish brain and she recoiled in horror. Jack was dead, not injured as she had assumed. Pain converged on her like rushing water, filling her with such anguish that her legs buckled beneath her. Choking sobs shook her body, sending scalding tears cascading down her cheeks. Did Lord Roger intend killing her, too?

Moira tensed when she heard a noise outside her dark prison. Suddenly the hatch above her opened and a man appeared in the opening, holding a lantern aloft. “So, you’ve finally awakened. Good.”

“Where am I? Why are you doing this to me? What have you done with my husband?”

Mayhew climbed down the ladder, closed the hatch behind him and hung the lantern from a hook on the ceiling. Hands on hips, he loomed over Moira, his eyes bright with anticipation. Or was it madness?

“You’re the cause of all my problems. Because of you, my father disowned me and named my brother his heir. I was sent off to America in disgrace and told never to return. I’m an embarrassment to the family. All because of an Irish wench too good to spread her legs for the heir to an earldom. From now on, you’ll spread your legs any time I order you to.”

“You’re mad. What have you done to Jack?”

“His body will be discovered on a deserted road, or in an alley. The victim of footpads, no doubt.” He laughed without mirth. “A fitting end for a rogue.”

“I don’t believe you. You’re trying to frighten me. Where am I?”

“In the hold of a ship bound for China. I paid the captain a small fortune to take no other passengers and ask no questions of me. You’ll find no help there. We sail on the midnight tide. I have a small piece of unfinished business to conduct at a nearby inn but will return in plenty of time. I suggest you rest while you can. When I return you’ll be too busy catering to my needs to sleep. By the time we reach China, you’ll know all the little tricks necessary to survive in a Chinese brothel.”

Moira inhaled sharply. This couldn’t be happening to her! Lord Roger was supposed to be far away, where he could never hurt her again. She was Jack’s wife and carried his child. She had found a grandfather she never knew she had, and her life was full to overflowing.

“What are you doing in England? Your father promised he would personally put you aboard a ship bound for America. You can’t have returned already.”

“My father is a stupid old man,” Mayhew said irreverently. “He did put me aboard a ship. But I’m much smarter than those he paid to make sure I sailed with the ship. I jumped ashore moments before the ship pulled away from the pier, with no one the wiser. I’ve been living in London’s underground, waiting for the opportunity to exact revenge. I made useful friends among the derelicts of the city. My friends would kill their own mother for enough blunt. Finding someone to do in Black Jack was easy.”

Moira considered telling Roger that she carried Jack’s child but decided against it. Obviously the man was mad; it was hard to tell what he’d do when he learned she was increasing. All she could do was hope and pray that Lord Roger had been lying about Jack. If he was truly dead, she’d feel it in her heart.

“Do you have proof that your friends killed Jack?”

Mayhew frowned. He’d sent three men—what could go wrong? “Not yet, but I will as soon as I meet my friends at
the Fatted Calf and they verify his death. ’Tis almost time.” He reached for the lantern and turned to leave.

“Wait! Leave the light. The dark frightens me.” She wasn’t really afraid of the dark; she needed light if she was to search for a way to escape. This time she didn’t have Matilda to help her.

Mayhew considered her request, then nodded his head. “Very well. Just don’t get any ideas about setting the place on fire, for it won’t work. You’d probably die of smoke inhalation before rescue arrived.”

Moira waited until Lord Roger climbed the ladder and secured the hatch before beginning a thorough search of the hold. If a means of escape existed, she’d find it.

The hour of ten arrived, and the Fatted Calf was nearly filled to capacity with boisterous, hard-drinking seamen and painted whores plying their trade. A fight broke out, which Jack watched with disinterest. A whore approached him and he quickly sent her packing. He shifted impatiently, his eyes never leaving the door, waiting, watching, wondering if he’d know the next man who walked through the portal. Pulling his hat down to shade his face, Jack tried to relax his tense body. It wasn’t easy, for his thoughts kept straying to Moira, fretting over her safety.

When Lord Roger Mayhew skulked through the door of the Fatted Calf, Jack’s shock was enormous. Tucking his chin into his chest, he watched Mayhew make a search of the room and saw him frown when he failed to locate who he was looking for. At length, Mayhew took a seat at an empty table facing the door.

Hunching his shoulders and pulling down his hat over his eyes, Jack rose and made his way slowly through the crowded common room, escaping Mayhew’s notice as he came up behind him. Jack was fully armed. Besides a primed and loaded pistol, he carried a knife and a short sword beneath his coat.
Palming the knife, Jack stopped behind Mayhew and pricked his neck with the weapon.

“Don’t turn around, Mayhew. Get up slowly and walk out the door.”

Mayhew blanched when he recognized Jack’s voice. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

“Your henchmen weren’t as efficient as you’d hoped. As you can see, I’m very much alive. Move. You’re going to take me to Moira. Make one false move and you’re a dead man. I know where all the vital organs are.”

Mayhew did as he was told. No one seemed to notice anything amiss, for the revelry continued unabated. “You don’t dare kill me,” Mayhew sneered. “If you do, you’ll never find your wife.”

“Try me,” Jack challenged.

Mayhew decided to do just that. The moment he walked through the door, he bolted—and ran straight into the arms of Spence and the watch.

“Ah, just in time, I see,” Spence said as the watch wrestled Mayhew into a pair of manacles.

“So much for following orders,” Jack said dryly. “All joking aside, I’m damned glad to see you.”

“I’m not alone. I’ve brought several of my retainers to aid us should Mayhew prove unmanageable.” Several men materialized from the shadows, none of whom Jack would have cared to meet while alone on a dark street.

Jack turned to Mayhew, his face cold and unrelenting, his insides a seething cauldron of rage. “Where is she, Mayhew? What have you done with Moira? I’d better find her unharmed, or your life is forfeit.”

Roger Mayhew was a coward. Unless backed by an army of men, he was all bravado and no courage. He cowered in fear when Spence’s men made threatening moves in his direction, even pleading with the watch to protect him.

When the watch stepped away, leaving him to Jack’s
mercy, he started babbling incoherently. “Pier ten, aboard the
Lady Jane.
She’s locked in the hold.”

“Take him away and lock him up with his henchmen,” Jack said, shoving Mayhew toward the watch. “If he’s hurt Moira, I’ll make him sorry he was born.” With his threat hanging in the air, Jack whirled on his heel and sprinted toward pier ten. Now he knew the meaning of Lady Amelia’s warning. The ship was probably set to sail on the midnight tide. Spence and his retainers were hard on his heels.

Moira began to know true despair. She had searched the dark, dank hold thoroughly and found no visible means of escape. She had taken the lantern from the hook and searched every nook and cranny. She stumbled over crates and peered inside boxes containing cargo, foodstuffs and sundry other goods. On the verge of giving up, she found a crowbar lying atop a crate and crowed in delight. A weapon of any kind was a welcome gift.

Alerted by noise filtering through the hatch, Moira paused to listen. She heard muffled shouts, then running steps and indications of a scuffle. When the hatch opened suddenly, Moira blew out the lantern, grasped the crowbar and waited at the foot of the ladder. She had every intention of bashing the first person to step foot into the hold.

Jack lifted the hatch leading down to the hold and stared into the darkness. He saw nothing, heard nothing. He was more than grateful that it hadn’t taken much persuasion to talk the unscrupulous captain and scurvy lot of seamen to tell him where Moira was being imprisoned. And he owed it all to Spence and his foresight in bringing help. He could have handled Mayhew alone, but defeating an entire ship’s crew single-handedly went beyond his capabilities. It never dawned on Jack that Moira’s abductor would take her out of the country.

Fearing that Moira had been hurt, Jack stumbled down
the ladder. When he reached the bottom, he heard a rustling noise and ducked instinctively. He felt the breeze from a heavy object ruffle his hair as it missed him by scant inches. Had it hit him, it would have fractured his skull. He cursed roundly. He’d been so intent on finding Moira that he’d thrown caution to the wind.

Moira froze, the crowbar slipping from her nerveless fingers. “Jack?” She’d recognize his voice anywhere. It was as familiar to her as her own, and dearer. The crowbar hit the deck with a resounding thunk.

Jack whirled on his heel when he heard her voice. “Moira? Is that you? Dear God, please let it be you.” He opened his arms and Moira unerringly found her way into them, guided by the light of his unquenchable love.

Sobbing quietly into his chest, Moira clung to Jack with a desperation that was as great as his own. “I thought you were dead,” she said. “Lord Roger said his henchmen killed you.”

“I’m very much alive, sweetheart,” Jack said soothingly, brushing her hair with his lips. “This time I’m going to make damn sure Mayhew never bothers us again. I’ve enough evidence against him to have him transported to the penal colony in Australia.” He lifted her chin with his finger and found her lips with his.

“Is everything all right down there?”

Jack sighed and broke off the kiss. “We’d better leave before Spence and his men come charging down here to save us. Are you and the babe all right? Mayhew didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“He never laid a finger on me,” Moira said. “But if you hadn’t come when you did…” Her sentence trailed off and she shuddered.

“You would have bashed Mayhew over the head and escaped,” Jack said with a laugh. “Your ingenuity and courage never cease to amaze me. Let’s go home, sweetheart.”