Free Soldier of Fortune: The King's Courtesan (Rakes and Rogues of the Retoration Book 2) by Judith James Page A

Harris,” the blond man said. “She’s too old for dolls, that one, and we’ve other things she can play with.”
    Bullet-head shook her again, and then fisted his hand in what remained of her dress and lifted her of the ground, so her feet had to scrabble for purchase. “Is that right, pretty mistress? You want to play games?” he cooed.
    Caroline was sobbing and pleading, fighting for air as the collar of her dress cut off her breath, trying to tell them she didn’t know. She didn’t understand what they wanted.
    “Get on with it, gentlemen,” the black-haired one snapped, apparently more sober than the rest. “There’s militia in the area. We haven’t all day. It’s clear she knows nothing. Finish her, Johnny, and let’s be gone.”
    “Well, that’s a bloody waste of an evening,” Johnny Harris protested. “I’ve got a use for her if the rest of you don’t. Move on if you please, lads. I shan’t be long.”
    “Pah,” Golden Hair spat. “Let’s all have a go, then. ’Tis only sporting. “ He joined the one named Johnny and yanked at her skirt.
    Caroline began a desperate struggle, clawing and kicking.
    “Enough, you damn fools,” the man with the curved blade shouted. “If I have to I’ll cut her throat myself.” He rose and started in her direction, and there was no more time left.
    The force that held him frozen loosened its grip. It was as if time had stopped, trapping him outside it, only letting him observe—then started again so that everything came at him in a rush. He raised his sword high over his head and it was then that Caroline saw him. Their eyes locked for an instant, hers horrified, imploring, trying to give him some message but it was lost in the commotion as he charged. He barreled forward with all his strength, screaming his fury, his target the man approaching her with the knife.
    Slow and sodden and unprepared, his target wheeled too late, his curved blade just nicking his young attacker’s cheek before the longsword caught him through the belly and impaled him against the wall.
    The child, who’d never killed before, blinked in shock. It didn’t feel real. It felt like the force of surprise and his own momentum had carried the thing, not him. But now he’d lost both, and try as he might he couldn’t pull out the sword.
    A liquor jug hit him full force in the back of his head, knocking him off his feet.
    “Bloody hell! Poor Humboldt! Killed by a marauding child! And he was to marry his heiress next month.” It was the blond man.
    “Aye. A pity. And not how one wants to be remembered,” the handsome one said to sniggers all the way round.
    He scrambled backward on his elbows and heels, desperately feeling for the dropped sword he’d seen earlier. The moment he found it, he jumped to his feet. He pointed it at them, holding it steady. “Let her go!”
    “Do you know what I’m going to do with that sword, boy?” the rat man whispered. “I’m going to slit you from throat to belly and fry your entrails.”
    Caroline, still struggling in Harris’s grip managed to loosen his chokehold on her throat. “Run, Robbie! Please run! Run!” his sister screamed.
    “I’ll let her go, lad, if you say so,” Harris said with a leer, and then he lifted her high in the air and flung her hard against the wall.
    He had always been reserved and she the merry prankster. Sister, boon companion and best friend, she was his strength, her charm and personality both larger than life. But when she hit the wall and slid to the floor in a broken heap she was so small…so fragile. She looked at him a moment, willing something from him. He whimpered, taking one step back as they advanced toward him, and then his sword clattered to the ground and he ran. He looked back one more time before he reached the doorway but she was gone.
    He ran and ran as they shouted behind him, out of the house and back into the night. He fell on his knees when he could go no farther. People were coming,