Free Elizabeth Boyle by Brazen Trilogy Page A

on.”
    They waited for nearly an hour. Giles was starting to wonder if he’d overestimated his adversary’s abilities.
    But the lady didn’t disappoint him.
    “That’s what we’ve been waiting for.” Giles pointed toward the side of the house.
    Monty’s eyes squinted as he stared into the darkness.
    Giles was the first to make out the ground-floor window slowly sliding open. One long leg slipped through, then the next followed. With them came the whoosh of white glowing skirts. Their volume took some time to push through, but when they did, the rest of the lady followed quickly.
    She moved to the edge of the shadows and stopped, looking up and down the street.
    It was then that Giles heard the sound of hooves and the crunching wheels of a carriage as it passed by their vantage point. He recognized it in an instant. The same plain black carriage that came to her rescue the night before.
    He reached for the trapdoor immediately. “Now, Michaels. Quickly. Put us between them.”
    The Trahern carriage sprang forward.
    Giles’s muscles tensed. “Move over, Monty. Give me all the room you can.”
    Monty scrambled to the opposite side of the careening carriage, his face white.
    They passed the surprised driver of the Angel’s carriage and came to a sudden halt in front of the woman. Giles swung open the door, leapt to the walkway, and wrapped his arm around her waist.
    Before she could even utter a protest, he called out to Michaels, “Get us home, now.”
    Giles caught hold of the outside handle and hoisted himself and his prize inside, just as the horses found their freedom. The carriage took off, and he landed hard on the floor.
    His fall, however, was cushioned by the shapely Angel, who finally found her voice.
    “Get off me, you great ponderous ape.”
    They were face to face. The triumphant gaze now belonged to him, but her eyes, blazing with fury and fire from beneath her mask, burned through him. He started to inch back.
    But not before her balled fist swung hard and efficiently, hitting him square in the jaw.
    Giles sat back, rubbing his aching chin. He had never struck a lady in his life, and he wasn’t about to start now, but this woman was going to learn some manners.
    “Oh, no, no more of that, milady,” Monty interrupted as the Angel started to wind up for another punch. He shoved his cane between the two of them, as if he were separating two squabbling schoolboys. “No one here is going to hurt you,” he said, his statement aimed squarely at Giles.
    Giles responded with a mumbled agreement and straightened himself up and onto his seat. He lit the inner lamp in the carriage, and its meager beam gave enough illumination to watch her every move.
    She still lay in the middle of the carriage, her skirts up to her knees, the breezy fabric filling the remaining space. Everything about her was in
dishabille
.
    But with Giles’s trained eye he knew it hadn’t been his abduction that left her wig askew and the front of her dress torn. Even in the dim light he discerned the beginnings of a bruise on her fair cheek. An ugly bright blossom peeked out from beneath the edge of her silver mask.
    Stark evidence of Cyril Delaney’s handiwork, of which Monty had tried to warn him.
    Giles didn’t dare look his friend in the eye, knowing full well the censure and blame he’d find there.
    Perhaps he’d been wrong to wait, to let her go in alone. Damn that fool Delaney. What kind of man would do such a thing to a woman?
    He shook off the queer feelings of regret. He had to keep remembering she was the enemy. Possibly even responsible for Webb’s death.
    But that still didn’t quell the nagging doubt that Monty had been right. They’d let her go into the lion’s den alone, a mistake on his part. While she’d survived, she hadn’t escaped unscathed.
    The duke appeared to reach the same conclusions. “Oh, my dear,” he choked out. “You’ve been hurt.” He reached out to help her up onto the seat next to