Savage Nights (The Savage Trilogy #2) (26 page)

“Two men tried to kidnap me,” I said, the words coming in big gulps. I was shaking from fear turned into relief. “There, those two, in the hackney.”

Pointing, I turned back to where the hackney had intercepted us. It was gone, and the two men with it. All that remained was my crushed hat on the pavement. I looked down the street and caught only a final glimpse of the cab disappearing into traffic in the distance.

“Thank God they didn’t,” he said fervently, pulling me close and hugging me hard. His fear made me realize all over again the danger I’d been in. “I should have been here for you. I should never have left you as long as I did.”

I closed my eyes, struggling to sort out what had just happened. It hadn’t been random. Someone had been watching for me, waiting for me. My father had made many enemies in his life and he’d always worried that they’d try to take out their feelings against him upon me, but this hadn’t been like that. Here in London there could be only one man, and that would be Blackledge. Was he truly that obsessed with me that he’d hire kidnappers?

“It … it m-m-must have been Blackledge,” I stammered. “Who else would have dared—”

“It will not happen again,” Savage said firmly. “I’ll see to that. If anything had happened to you, I would never forgive myself. Never.”

“But nothing did happen,” I said, “because of Lawton.”

I pushed myself away from Savage, looking for his son. Lawton was standing to one side, his face blank but his eyes filled with silent misery as he watched us. I placed my hand on the boy’s shoulder, drawing him forward to Savage’s notice—or, rather, so that Savage couldn’t ignore him any longer.

“Lawton saved me,” I said. “He knocked one of the men down, and that was enough to make them run away.”

To my dismay, Savage frowned at his son as if he didn’t believe it. “Is this true, Lawton?”

“Yes, Father,” the boy said, his entire manner guarded. “I couldn’t let them take Mrs. Hart.”

Savage nodded. “No, you couldn’t,” he said. “Mrs. Hart is a dear friend to me as well as being a lady. You did well to defend her.”

It was the chilliest of compliments, more fitting for a master to his servant than a father to a young son, and it shocked me.

“He did more than that, Savage,” I said, eager to champion the boy and see him receive the credit due to him. “He had the cleverest move imaginable, ducking between that rascal’s legs to knock him backwards. I don’t know where a young gentleman could have learned such a trick, but I was most grateful that he did.”

“At school, Mrs. Hart,” Lawton said proudly. “The upper boys bully us lower ones, but we learn ways to defend ourselves, no matter how much bigger they are.”

But there was no pride in Savage’s face.

“And that is precisely the sort of behavior that has landed you into such trouble at school, hasn’t it?” he said grimly. “Come, inside. We needn’t discuss this for the entire world to view.”

The whole world wasn’t interested, nor even the few passersby on the pavement who’d continued on their business, ignoring us, but that didn’t stop Savage from ushering us inside the house in stony silence.

“Savage, please,” I tried again once we were in the hall. “Lawton—”

Savage wheeled around to face me. “Lawton is no concern of yours, Evelyn.”

“He is, considering how he just saved me!”

“If he had not left the house, as he’d been told, then there would have been no need for him to save you,” Savage said, his anger barely controlled. “He must learn the consequences of his actions.”

“He’s only a boy!”

“He is
my
son, Evelyn, not yours,” Savage said sharply, “and I will thank you not to interfere in his education. I will join you upstairs shortly.”

He didn’t wait for my reply but took Lawton by the shoulder and marched him into the drawing room off the hall. I’d one final look at Lawton, his black hair ruffled and his small face far more stoic than any child’s had a right to be.

The door closed after them, and I was alone.

12.

I couldn’t stay here in Savage’s house any longer.

I didn’t belong. As terrifying as the near kidnapping had been, these last few minutes with Savage and his son had been disturbing in a different but no less shocking way. I’d no real place in this household or in his Savage’s, either. Hadn’t Savage himself just made that clear enough?

I hurried upstairs to the guest bedroom. I didn’t wait for a maid to help me but hauled my heavy trunk from beside the wardrobe. I threw the lid open and began throwing my clothes and other belongings inside. I didn’t bother to fold or arrange them. My hands were shaking, and I was crying, and I didn’t care. All I wished was to be gone from this place, and from Savage, as soon as I could.

I rang for a footman, and when he came I asked him to send for a cab for me to return to the Savoy. I could have asked for Savage’s carriage to take me there, and perhaps after what had happened—or nearly happened—this afternoon that would have been the wiser course. But I wanted the break between us to be clean, without any chance of wavering.

I reached into my blouse and drew out the long strand of pearls that he’d given me. The pearls were warm with the heat of my body, and warm, too, with the memories they held. For a second, I cupped the strand in the palm of my hand, thinking. Then I resolutely pulled the necklace over my head and dropped it into a silver bowl on the table beside the bed, where it was sure to be found.

I latched the trunk shut just as the door behind me opened. Quickly I wiped at my tears with my fingers and turned, expecting the footman again to tell me the hackney was here.

But it wasn’t a footman. It was Savage.

He stood in the doorway, his hand on the knob as his gaze swept the room, seeing the trunk and my preparations for leaving. I could tell from the tension in his body that his conversation with his son had not gone well and that this one, too, would not be easy.

“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded, though it must have been obvious. “You can’t go, Evelyn. I won’t allow it.”

“‘
Allow’
it?” I repeated indignantly. “You have nothing to say about whether I stay or go, Savage, though the fact that you are ordering me to stay shows exactly why I am leaving.”

“Then perhaps you can tell me,” he said, his words clipped and irritated. “Enlighten me, please, since it pertains to me. Why would you leave now when we’ve four more days left in our Game?”

He stepped into the room, closing the door after him and standing before it with his legs spread and his arms folded over his chest. It was a defiant, hostile posture, meant to barricade the door, and all it did was make me more determined to leave.

“Because it’s not the same here,” I said. Deliberately I folded my arms over my chest, too. “When we were at Wrenton, we could pretend the world began and ended with us. Nothing else mattered besides the Game. But here in London, there are … distractions.”

His jaw tightened. “You mean my son. He’ll be gone soon as I can arrange it, no later than tonight.”

“He needn’t go, Savage, and certainly not on my account,” I said. “He has more right to be here than I do. This is his home, and there’s no more important place to a child.”

“Stop saying that,” Savage barked. “It’s not an excuse. Lawton must be responsible for his actions.”

“I wish you would stop saying that,” I said. “How old is he, anyway? Seven, eight, nine? How can a
child
that age be held responsible for anything?”

“Because he must,” Savage said, his eyes glowing with determination. “He was sent down from school this week. Dismissed. Did he happen to tell you why?”

“No,” I said. “I didn’t think it was my affair to inquire.”

“It’s not,” Savage said, “but you meddled so much that I’ll tell you regardless. He was sent down for fighting, for thrashing another boy badly enough that he was taken to hospital, and the parents were clamoring for the police. Yet today you
encouraged
his violence.”

I shook my head, refusing to see it that way.

“I agree that he should not be fighting at school,” I said. “But surely there must have been other circumstances.”

“No wonder he likes you,” Savage said, goading me by turning what should have been a compliment into an insult. “You make excuses for him.”

I refused to lose my temper. At least one of us should. “There’s always another side to any story,” I insisted. “Have you asked your son what happened?”

“I don’t have to know the circumstances to understand what happened,” said Savage grimly. “I see it in his face every time I look at him. He is volatile, unpredictable, exactly as his mother was. He has her madness.”

I stared at Savage, incredulous. “Do you know what I see when I look at Lawton? I see you, Savage. I see your eyes, your hair, your mouth, your chin. But most of all I see your passion, and now, it seems, your temper, too.”

“You know none of this, Evelyn,” he said. “You don’t understand the history.”

“I understand enough,” I said. “He may be his mother’s child, but he’s also your son, Savage. Yours, through and through. Why is what he did to this other schoolboy any different from what you did—or attempted to do—to poor Mr. Henery at Wrenton last week?”

Savage drew back as if I’d been the one to strike him. “That has absolutely nothing to do with my son.”

“Yes, it does,” I insisted. “It has everything to do with it. If you’d bothered to ask him why he beat this other boy, I’d guarantee that he did it to protect another child, or perhaps a helpless animal that couldn’t defend itself. He scarcely knows me, yet he came to my rescue this afternoon—a boy a quarter the size of those men! He could have hurt himself, or even been killed for my sake. Did he tell you that? Did you bother to ask?”

He frowned, taken aback, and I saw the first flickers of doubt in his eyes. “Lawton was in danger as well?”

“He was,” I said firmly. “Perhaps more than I was, because of his size. They shoved him aside to get to me. Most children would have sat there crying on the pavement, but he jumped up and came to my defense as best he could, without a thought for his own welfare.”

Savage’s frown deepened, this time with remorse. His arms uncrossed and fell to his sides, and his shoulders lost their belligerence.

“I should have been there to protect you both,” he said. “It’s my fault. If only I’d returned sooner, then none of this—”

“Hush,” I said, coming to stand before him. “I don’t want to hear any of that, either. You’re not my watchdog, and I can’t live my life trapped in your house as if it were some castle with a gate and a moat to keep the world at bay. My father did that to me when I was young, and I vowed never to let it happen again.”

Savage’s hands settled familiarly at my waist. “I promised I’d keep you safe. Lawton, too.”

“And so you have,” I said, resting my palms on his chest. “But you can’t do it alone, nor should you. Call the police. I’ll tell them what happened, and swear to a complaint against Blackledge. If he’s hiring thugs like those I saw today, then the police must be informed.”

“No police,” Savage said with a brusque, dismissive sweep of his hand. “That will accomplish nothing.”

“Are you certain?” I asked anxiously. “Perhaps only a short conversation, to alert them about what happened?”

“They won’t take you seriously, Evelyn,” he said. “You can’t identify the men or the hackney, and everything else depends on what Blackledge said to you alone, without witnesses. Although you and I know otherwise, there’s no tangible way that today’s attempt can be linked to Blackledge to satisfy a court of law.”

“Then promise me you’ll do nothing rash, Savage,” I said. “Do not go after him yourself. These are dangerous men, and I do not want to lose you.”

“I cannot promise that,” he said, “any more than my son can, evidently. But I will be careful in whatever I arrange. Will that be enough?”

I nodded, running my palms up the broad planes of his chest to his shoulders. I knew I couldn’t really expect him to promise more than that. As much as I might wish it, that need to protect was too much a part of him to be put aside like a change of clothes. All I could hope for was caution.

“Enough for me,” I said lightly. “But I’d also ask that you not be so harsh towards Lawton. He’s not mad that I could see, not at all.”

“If you’d known his mother—”

“But I didn’t, which means I’m not looking for madness where there’s none,” I said. “Recall that he’s your son, too. He never forgets it. He idolizes you.”

“Hah,” Savage said grudgingly. “If he does, then he’s an even greater young fool than I’d thought.”

“Don’t send him away tonight, either,” I said. “Wherever it was that you were going to send him.”

“To his aunt’s house in Berkshire,” Savage said. “I wasn’t having him transported to Australia.”

“Let him stay here, then,” I said. “He shouldn’t be turned out from his home.”

Savage sighed. “He’ll be here for another three weeks, then, until the new term begins. That was the best I could arrange today with that sly bastard of a headmaster. It cost me a sizable contribution to the building fund, too.”

“I’m glad of it,” I said softly, rubbing my fingers along the nape of his neck. “This house is large enough for him to be perfectly unaware of how the adults are amusing themselves.”

He grunted, his hands sliding up the sides of my waist to the undersides of my breasts. “I already had Barry take down the swing. I didn’t want to have to explain that it was an item meant only for adults.”

“I should think that was why locks were invented for doors.”

“Don’t be smart, Eve,” he said. “I’m serious.”

“I am serious, too,” I said, brushing my lips against his. “There will be other ways to entertain one another. You’ve always been inventive, Master.”

“Because you have been receptive, Eve,” he said. Our mouths clung, tasted, parted. He paused and pulled back, watching me through wary, heavy-lidded eyes. “Does this mean you will not be leaving?”

“Not this afternoon, no,” I said slowly, surprising myself. I’d been so determined, but that determination had disintegrated and scattered as we’d talked. If he could pledge to change—or at least to make an attempt—then so could I. “No. I’ll stay.”