Free The Marquess by Patricia Rice

recognized the strangeness of some of the
bulges pushing against her. As if understanding the reason for her fear, her
captor adjusted her to fit beneath one arm. Now she practically rode his hip.
She tentatively pounded a fist against his back, but as she thought, it cost
her more pain than him. He just dug his fingers in tighter.
    Dillian closed her eyes in mortification as she realized how
intimately he held her. She didn’t open them again when he threw her onto
the couch. She waited for the beast to light the lamp and expose her in
boys’ breeches and shirt. A hot flush spread across her cheeks before he
could even see her.
    To her surprise, the lamp didn’t come on. She sensed
his terrifying presence looming over her, preventing her escape. Cautiously,
she opened her eyes and looked up. Cloaked shoulders blotted an enormous
expanse of her vision, but she could see nothing of his face in the darkness.
She realized he had his hands on his hips and his legs spread aggressively. She
didn’t like that stance at all.
    “May I have the honor of an introduction?” he
asked with sarcasm when she said nothing.
    Dillian thought about it. She didn’t know if
he’d believe her if she told him the truth. It did seem a trifle
ludicrous for a twenty-five year old staid lady’s companion to hide in
walls and steal food. He had only to light a lamp to see she wasn’t a
boy, if he hadn’t surmised that already. Perhaps she could draw some
sympathy if she gave some story about a nobleman enclosing her father’s
tenant lands...
    Impatiently, he interrupted her creativity. “If
you’re going to lie, do it quickly. Otherwise, you’re wasting your
time. I can guess where you came from in any event. I’ll just wait until
the lady wakes to confirm it. Until then, I’m keeping you someplace safe.
I have no intention of spending the next week setting more traps.”
    Dillian gasped as the marquess jerked her back to her feet
by grasping the neck of her shirt and hauling her up. She swung her fists and
kicked, but he seemed impervious to her blows. Fear finally crept over her. She
didn’t know this man. He could do anything he wanted to her and throw her
bones out for the wolves if he wanted. Or just stash her corpse in the walls,
for all anyone would know.
    Blanche would know. Blanche could set the duke on him, but
it would be far too late to save her by then. Dillian squealed as he dropped
her into a new seat, this one a wing chair beside the fireplace.
    “You have no right to treat me like this, you monster!”
she protested, jumping to her feet as he moved away.
    The cloaked marquess jerked something off the draperies and
effortlessly pushed her back into the chair. “I believe the punishment
for breaking and entering is transportation, at the very least. Since the
Americans have very disobligingly refused to receive any more British riffraff,
you may contemplate the climate of Australia for a while.”
    He jerked the drapery cords around her chest and arms,
securing her firmly against the back of the chair. He worked methodically, and
Dillian shivered again as his knuckles brushed the side of her breast. She
fought her terror with words. “This is ridiculous! You can’t do
this. I’m a lady. I have powerful connections. You can’t treat me
like a common thief.”
    “Oh? Who says?” The aggravating creature knotted
the cord and wandered off in the direction of another window, apparently in
search of further rope.
    Now that he no longer stood near her, her terror dissipated,
and Dillian wanted to scream with fury. He wasn’t even listening. The
beastly man had made up his mind and didn’t have any intention of
listening to reason. When he approached again, she kicked her foot furiously at
his midsection.
    The marquess merely caught her ankle and wrapped the silken
cord around it. He didn’t handle her roughly, just matter-of-factly, His
hand was almost gentle as it held her still. No man had ever touched her leg
like