Page 53 of The Captain Claims His Temptress

“Come, Stephen.” This time when she pulled on him, he allowed it.

Nonplussed, Stephen stood beside Madalene, shining the lantern into the corners of the empty dungeon.

“Who let them out?” Madalene whispered.

He rubbed his forehead. “I know not for certain.” Although he suspected it was Dupont.

“Where do you think they are?” she asked.

They would run into the same immovable red-headed wall they’d encountered on their last visit if they were on their way to his sister’s.

She grasped his forearm. “When I visited Sir Saxton’s study, Pierre was there alone, and my uncle’s desk drawer was open.” She worried her lip. “What if he set them free? I think he was returning the key when I walked in on him.”

Stephen moaned. In the morning, he would head to the East Midlands to search for them. For now, they both needed sleep.

Dare he invite her to share his bed? But then there would be no sleeping. However, he could cradle her. Hold her close. Whisper secrets. Share memories. Listen to her alluring laugh. And then, when the first light of morning cast golden rays over her naked figure, he could sink into her so deep that their bodies became one.

Sleep or sex? The choice was easy. What he wanted most in the world was to chase pleasure with his seductress.

Lighting their way with the lantern, he pressed his other hand into the small of her back, guiding her away from the stench of ancient dust.

He stopped short and sucked in a breath. Footsteps echoed in the stairwell. Perchance Myrle and Diggins?

He snuffed the lantern, handed it to Madalene, and placed his index finger against his lip. “Shh.”

With his instincts on high alert, the soldier took over. As the footsteps clonked closer, he mentally calculated. Three males. An oil lamp. One man reeked from an overabundance of pungently sweet fermenting fruit, spices, and cat piss. Dupont really should choose a cologne with less animal secretions if he meant to sneak up on people.

Hell and the devil. There was nowhere to hide Madalene. He stepped in front of her, placed his hand on his pistol, and met the visitors head-on.

The second Saxton saw them, he held up his lantern and grumbled. Hugo’s pistol wobbled in his shaking fist.

“I told you, Elias, and you doubted me.” Dupont pointed a gun at Stephen’s chest. “He set the prisoners free. Who knows where they might be.”

The evil bastard knew precisely where his bootlickers were. He hadn’t wanted Stephen involved in their search, but he’d sure as hell set him up to take the fall for their disappearance.

Madalene gasped, then turned on Dupont. Fire-like rage refracted from her pupils. “You freed them, Pierre, and you were prowling in my uncle’s study because you stole the key.”

Her safety was all that mattered, so Stephen held up his hands to show he was unarmed. “Gentleman, please put the pistols away. There is a lady present.”

Saxton nodded his agreement. “There is no need for violence in my niece’s presence.”

Both weapons remained aimed at Stephen. Madalene stepped in front of him and squared her shoulders. “Put them away.”

Damnation, she was brave.

The way Adams quaked, he might accidentally shoot them all.

“Put the blasted thing down so that we can talk,” Stephen said, an intimidating rumble in his voice.

Adams’ arm dropped to his side.

“You too, Pierre.” Madalene glared at Dupont.

Unfazed by her anger, he smirked at her. “What a bold accusation, mademoiselle. Elias, checkle capitaine’s pocket. I suspect he has this key I am being accused of stealing.”

“Bloody hell.” Saxton stomped to Stephen. “Do you have it?”

Madalene’s eyes widened in horror. “Uncle?” she said, her voice soft. “But the conversation we had with Aunt Henrietta in your study?”