The other man’s gaze swept over her once more, and then the left corner of his mouth drew upward to form a crooked smile. “Not at all. But you’d best keep a steady eye on her, for the crew might get an idea or two with such a beauty on board.” He grinned now, revealing an uneven row of tainted teeth. “Wouldn’t mind toppling her myself, though I do imagine you’d have a thing or two to say about that.”
“I’ll slit you from ear to ear if you lay one grubby hand on her,” Stanton growled, leaning slightly forward to punctuate his threat with his height.
The man didn’t budge, and Lucy drew a tight breath, wondering if the two of them were about to come to blows. The tension in the air seemed ripe for it. Perhaps she’d manage to escape? But then the man simply nodded and shrugged his broad shoulders somewhat resignedly. “Yes, I’ve no doubt you would.” He then fell quiet for a moment as if contemplating the situation but eventually shook his head in defeat and pointed toward the gangplank. “Take her on board. Lord knows I can do with the blunt. One of my men will show you where to stow her, but one sign of trouble from either of you and I’m tossing you overboard.”
“Just keep your men under control,” Stanton warned as he pulled Lucy past the man whom she had now guessed to be the captain of the ship and, pushing her ahead of him, marched her up the gangplank until she was faced with no other choice but to jump down onto the deck. “Why are you doing this?” she asked as soon as she was on board. She tried to twist her head around so she could look at him, but he gave her a rough yank that forced her to face forward instead.
“Quiet,” he hissed, giving her a hard shove that made her trip, but his grip kept her upright, and as she found her footing once more, she reluctantly began to walk. What could she do? She had no weapon of any kind, and she was now outnumbered by a burly group of ruffians because, from what she’d seen so far, the crew seemed no less threatening than their captain.
“This way,” a stout fellow called to them. His face was gruesome beneath the black cap that he wore, and Lucy turned her head to look away from the eyes that bulged from their sockets, the wide scar that marked his right cheek, and the gaping cleft in his lower lip. This was a man who’d seen his fair share of fights—no doubt about that. Thudding across the deck, he lifted a hatch and pointed to a ladder that disappeared into the darkness below. Lucy’s heart pounded against her chest as she watched him reach out his arm, grab a lantern from on top of a barrel, and hand it to Stanton. “So you don’t fall and break your necks,” he explained in a gruff tone of voice.
Leaning slightly forward, Lucy stared into the murky hole with growing horror and trepidation as reality began to sink in. She tried to twist around again in the hope of catching another glimpse of the shore. Perhaps she’d find William galloping to her rescue. But it was impossible for her to see much of anything in the split second that she was offered before Stanton pushed her forward once more. Her hands were still tied behind her back, and she probably would have plummeted straight inside the hatch, head first, if Stanton hadn’t pulled her back at the very last second. She heard him chuckle—that same aristocratic chuckle that he’d otherwise used to charm and cajole. “In you go,” he said, his hand still steady upon her arm as she placed her foot on the first rung of the ladder. She hesitated before taking the next step, attempting to buy some more time, hoping and praying that William would still manage to come. But by the time her feet touched the planking of the hull and the hatch closed above her head with a loud clunk, she was forced to realize that he would not, and the thought of it—that he had failed—filled her with despair.
At her side, Stanton raised the lantern, spreading an orange glow across their surroundings. There wasn’t much to see down here—boxes and crates mostly, some fishing nets, and some reels of rope. “I suggest you make yourself comfortable,” he told her as he nodded toward one of the crates and indicated that she should take a seat. His tone was pleasant, in stark contrast to his actions. The man could not have seemed more devoid of a conscience. “It’s going to be a while before we reach dry land again.”
It was colder down here—a wet chill that went straight to the bones—and Lucy shivered as she followed his instructions, her eyes trained on her muddied slippers and the filthy hem of her gown. She heard Stanton move around and was surprised to feel a blanket being settled over her shoulders a moment later. The pain in her belly from the ride still irked her, but at least she might be safe from catching her death. “Why?” she asked simply, her gaze still downcast.
“I thought I explained that already,” he muttered, and though she wasn’t watching him, she sensed that he’d sat down on one of the other crates.
“The money—yes, I know. But that doesn’t explain why I’m still alive. I thought you intended to kill me as well.”
He chuckled, and she hated the sound of it—hated that he could sound so jovial, so charming, so normal when in truth he was anything but. “I have something far more interesting in store for you, my dear Lucy.”
She lifted her gaze to meet his, and as she did, she poured all the anger and hatred that she felt for him into her eyes. “I’ll kill you the first chance I get.”
He was before her in an instant, his face close, callous, and full of malice as he stared back into her eyes. She didn’t see the blade he held, but she felt its sharp edge against the pulse of her neck and immediately caught her breath. “Then I’d better make sure that doesn’t happen, hadn’t I?” He eased back slowly and went back to sit on his crate. “As long as you behave, I’ll let you live.”
Lucy tensed. If his plan wasn’t to kill her, then what on earth did he have in mind? The uncertainty of what awaited her filled her with dread. She couldn’t comprehend his reasoning, couldn’t seem to figure out what his motive was or what he hoped to accomplish. But if money was what he was after, then he must have been paid dearly for killing her parents and now for…she looked at him again and found him studying her with much interest. “Who hired you?”
His brows rose up, and he smiled. “Ah, I see you’re beginning to put the pieces together—took you long enough.” He paused, looking as though he was considering her question, but eventually shook his head. “I don’t want to spoil the fun, but if you think long and hard on it, I’m sure you’ll come up with a name.”
Fighting for control of her emotions, Lucy pushed back the tears, forced her body under some measure of control, and tried to think. Unraveling in a fit of hysterics would get her nowhere. Who would have had the motivation to kill her parents? Who stood to gain from it? It was impossible for her to contemplate, so she decided to ask a different question instead. “I take it that you were well compensated for the job?” He was a lord, so she assumed he would only have taken the assignment in exchange for an exorbitant amount, especially if his aim was to rid himself of debt or keep up with a lifestyle that had become beyond his means, for whatever reason.
“Not yet,” he said dryly, “but I will be…soon.”
What on earth did he mean by that? Her eyes suddenly widened, and she jerked her head up to look at him. “You’re taking me to someone, and once you do, you’ll receive your payment?” She was thinking out loud now, trying to piece the puzzle together as best she could.
A slow smile slid across Stanton’s lips, and he began a monotonous and patronizing clap. “Well done, Lucy. Well done, indeed. You’ve practically cracked the whole case wide open. A shame you weren’t this astute earlier or you might actually have managed to save yourself.”
No wonder he’d kept on looking for her all of these years. Her mother had been correct in her warning, and Lucy had been a fool to think that the man had remained in Constantinople, waiting for her to find him. His face might appear calm on the outside, but Lucy knew better. He hated her just as much as she hated him. “How much?” She couldn’t believe she was sitting there conversing with him like this, but she wanted as many answers as she could possibly get, and since she had no means of killing him, at present anyway, she might as well try to understand the situation as best she could.
He didn’t answer her at first but crossed his arms and then his legs before settling back against a large, over-stuffed sack. He then tilted his head, appearing to somehow assess her worth, and when she shivered this time, it was not from the cold. “You ought to fetch me roughly three hundred thousand pounds—perhaps even more with your hair and eye color taken into account.”
Lucy’s jaw dropped. She was speechless. This was far more money than she would have expected, which could only mean that the man he planned to deliver her to must be extraordinarily wealthy. She swallowed hard and tried to think once more of whom it might be, but they were leaving England now. She sensed that the ship had already begun to move, and she could think of no one abroad who might have had ill intent toward her father or otherwise hoped to gain from his death. It didn’t make any sense, and the more she thought about it, the more muddled her mind became.
She was tired, truth was, so with the wood of the ship creaking around her while the crew thudded about overhead, Lucy pulled a heavily loaded sack closer and settled herself against it. There wasn’t much she could do now anyway, so she might as well rest and gather her strength because, for some reason, she sensed that the journey ahead would be a long one.
Closing her eyes, her thoughts returned to William. She could see his handsome face before her, so vivid she could practically reach out and touch it. Her throat tightened, and again the tears burned, but this time it was for a different reason. He’d assured her that everything would be all right—that he’d protect her. Yet here she was, alone in the hold of a ship with this cold-blooded killer and with no hope of rescue. She hadn’t dared imagine that William felt as strongly for her as she did for him, but she had thought that he had at least cared enough to try to help. What if she was wrong? Of course any number of things might have happened to prevent him from showing up before it was too late, but she knew his career history and knew, therefore, somewhere deep down inside that if he’d really wanted to find her, he would have done so. The acknowledgment of it broke her heart.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Constantinople, six weeks later
He’d told her that everything would be all right, that she mustn’t worry, because he would protect her. William paced restlessly back and forth in the confines of the salon, a handsomely decorated room in the guest house where they were staying. Low benches backed with plush cushions lined the walls while larger cushions meant for sitting upon lay strewn about the floor, the glass and metal beads that adorned them shimmering in the sunlight as it drifted through the windows.
With a sigh of frustration, William dropped onto one of the silk-clad divans the room had to offer and buried his head in his hands. “I promised her that she would be safe,” he muttered, feeling once again that deep-rooted sense of fear that had plagued him ever since they’d left England. It was stronger than it had ever been before, now that the trail had gone cold.