“Where am I going?”
“To London.”
“Why London?”
“You’ll find out when you get there.”
“Please, I need to know. Why can’t you say?”
He shrugged. “I suppose it can’t hurt to tell you. You’re being transported.”
Her heart sank. “To where?”
“Australia.”
“I don’t wish to travel to Australia.”
“Did you hear me ask your opinion?”
“And my sisters. Will they be joining me?”
“You hadn’t ought to worry about them. It will only make things more difficult.”
“Why? Have they been harmed?”
“No, but you’re better off letting go of the past. It will be easier for you.”
“I raised my sisters from the time they were babies. They’re as dear to me as if they were my own daughters. Surely you can see why I’m afraid for them. I can’t just let them go.”
He didn’t reply, but waved toward the street.
“Daylight’s wasting,” he said. “We must be off.”
“On whose authority am I being sent to London? Have I been convicted? Of what charge?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does to me.”
“It’s irrelevant. Don’t work yourself into a dither.”
He’d brought a rope, and he stomped over, grabbed her arms, and forced them behind her back. He tied her wrists tightly enough to cut the skin and hinder circulation.
“There’s no need to be such a brute,” she complained.
“I intend that you aren’t able to flee.”
“I won’t try. I promise.”
“You wouldn’t be the first whore who ran on me.”
“I wouldn’t dream of running.”
He snorted. “Wouldn’t you? Trust me, little lady, I can see it in your eyes. You’re determined to thwart me, but I mean to deliver you as contracted.”
“To whom am I being delivered?”
“Never you mind, but be aware that you’ll fetch me a pretty penny.”
Had she been sold like an African slave? How could such a despicable deed be permitted in a civilized society? She had to prevent him from proceeding, but she couldn’t figure out how.
He marched her outside, and though she kicked and protested, her paltry efforts had no effect. A cart awaited them, an enclosed box on the back that had a sturdy lock on the door. Panic swept over her. She was certain that—if she climbed in—she’d vanish and no one would ever know what became of her.
Her resistance increased, but she couldn’t stop him. He tossed her in, and she huddled on the floor as he jumped onto the front seat and whipped the horses into a trot.
The cart had no springs, and with her limbs bound, she couldn’t brace herself as they flew over holes and bumps. She was jostled incessantly, her head aching, her body bruised.
After an eternity had passed, they slowed and turned off the road, the vehicle bouncing to a halt. Pratt hauled her out, and she glanced around to discover that they were in a secluded woods, standing next to a hunter’s cottage.
“What’s happening?” she asked. “Why are we here?”
Pratt pushed her toward the door. “Go on in.”
She dug in her heels. “Not until you tell me who’s in there.”
“Why are you so contrary? Why can’t you simply do as you’re told?”
“I was born contrary.”
“That I can believe.”
He pushed her again, but she wouldn’t budge, so he dragged her over.
“The man paid me good money,” Pratt explained, “and I’ve promised him an hour with you.”
“What?”
“Don’t fight him. There’s no use getting yourself hurt.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ll be timing him, so bear up. It will be over before you know it.”
She started to brawl in earnest, and Pratt cuffed her alongside the head, hard enough that she saw stars.
“You hit me!”
“Well, don’t be stupid, and I won’t have to resort to violence.”
“Whatever you’ve planned, I won’t meekly consent like a lamb to the slaughter.”
“You’ll obey me, or I’ll tie you down. Don’t make me. I suspect he’d enjoy it too much.”
He knocked once, and a man bid them enter. Pratt carried her in.
The shutters were closed, the room dimly lit, the man hidden in the shadows, and Emeline gasped as Pratt said, “Here she is, Mr. Mason. Do what you will with her, but when you’re finished, she needs to be in sound enough condition to travel.”
“She’ll be able to travel.”
“One hour.”
“One hour,” Mason concurred, “but don’t be in any hurry.”
“One hour,” Pratt repeated, “and that’s it.”
He tugged at her bindings, releasing her, then he turned to go.
“Don’t leave me with him,” Emeline begged, and she ran over and pulled Pratt to a halt.
“Don’t resist,” Pratt counseled. “Just get through it, and we’ll continue on.”
“Please!” she implored, but Pratt shoved her at Mason, and Mason caught her.
“Hello, Emeline,” Mason crooned. “Fancy meeting you here.”
Emeline tried to lunge away, to chase after Pratt, but Mason trapped her against his body. His private parts were pressed to her thigh, and she could feel his erect phallus.
Ravishment? Was that his ploy? He’d paid for the privilege?
“Sheriff!” Emeline called, and Pratt whipped around.
“What?”
“Lord Stafford will kill you when he finds out.”
“How will he learn of it, Miss Wilson? Who will tell him? You? You’ll never have the chance.”
“He’ll find out. I’ll make sure of it.”
Pratt smirked. “I’m shaking in my boots.”
He left, as Mason snickered, “Dearest, Emeline, it seems we’re alone.”
“Don’t touch me.”
She elbowed him in the ribs, hoping the blow would loosen his grip, but he clamped hold tighter than ever.
“I’d offer you wine,” he said, “but we don’t have time for socializing. Let’s get down to business.”
There was a bed along the wall, and he tried to wrestle her onto it, but if he thought she’d blithely comply, he was gravely mistaken. Her arms were free, and she would utilize every ounce of her strength, would die in the effort, before she’d submit.
She was kicking with her feet, clawing with her nails, but wherever she attacked, he merely yanked her fingers away.
“You shouldn’t have spurned me, Emeline.” He was out of breath from their grappling.
“If you’d been the last man on earth, I wouldn’t have accepted your proposal.”
“A foolish decision—as you can now see. Imagine how different things would be if you’d agreed
