Her hand trembled as it closed around the knob, then complying to every word of his command, she turned it until the latch clicked free. With wildly thumping heart she pushed it inward, moving cautiously forward as she did so. Ashton was lying on his side facing the door and had been sleeping, but as she entered, his eyelids came slowly open. He smiled sleepily as he saw her, but then his eyes lifted, caught the glint of the derringer beside her shoulder and the large shape behind her. Not waiting for an explanation he dove toward the bench at the foot of the bed where he had left his own derringer beneath his clothes, not caring at the moment that he flattened the sheet which had covered him under his naked form.

“I’ll kill her!” Malcolm barked and shoved the bore of the small pistol into her throat. “So help me, I will!” He let the other man digest his threat a moment, then he directed, “Now carefully…take whatever weapon you’re after…and place it on the floor in front of the bed and slide it very slowly over here to me. If you make one quick, unnecessary movement, she will be the one to pay for it. And if you think I don’t have it in me to kill her, then you’d better ask her how many I’ve already done away with.”

Ashton’s gaze met his lady’s, and reading the troubled disquiet in the green depths, he knew they were both dealing with a dangerous man. As instructed, he removed the pistol from beneath his clothing and, coming to his feet, laid it on the rug and pushed it out toward them, then gave it a light shove, sending it sliding slowly across the floor.

Malcolm took the slender wrist that was close at hand and prodded his captive again with the pistol. “Pick it up by the cylinder and hand it to me butt first.” He smirked in pleasure as his orders were obeyed and, slipping the extra derringer into his coat pocket, chuckled at his power. “Strange how the pair of you have come to respect me. Perhaps you are finally learning.” Laying his arm around his hostage’s shoulders, he waved the pistol toward Ashton. “I’ll allow you to get your trousers on now. Though my wife may prefer your present state, I’m sure Meghan will be unduly shocked if you go downstairs wearing only that patch on your ribs. My men would have saved me considerable trouble if they had taken care of you as they should have…especially if they had done so at the very beginning.”

“Just what are you planning?” Ashton asked sharply as he shoved a leg into his trousers.

“If you must know, Wingate, I’m going to take you downstairs and wait for the rest of my men to come. I’ve told them to use caution coming to the house. I don’t want to make anyone on your ship suspicious of our activities here.”

“And once your men get here?” Ashton thrust his other leg into the pair of pants and began fastening them.

“Then, of course, there will be enough of us to deal with you as I would like. I promised Lenore if I ever caught the pair of you together, I’d see you gelded….”

“Noooo!” The cry came out in a frightened wail, and once again the woman fought the restraining arm that held her.

“I know how you must treasure that part of him, my dear, but you should never have betrayed me with him.”

“Betrayed you!” She twisted in rage at his accusation, and though his arm slipped down and tightened agonizingly about her ribs again, she would not be stilled. Ashton stepped forward with a low growl, but the gleaming bore of the derringer swung around, bringing him to a sudden halt. A frightened cry broke from the woman, and she quickly submitted herself to Malcolm’s will, pleading, “Don’t! Don’t hurt him. I’ll do anything you want. Just don’t hurt him…. Please.”

“Your concern for him is touching, my dear.” Malcolm’s disdain seeped into his tone. “You might have bestowed some of that on me when you had the chance and saved yourself some grief now.”

“Did you show concern for me with your lies and deceptions?” she inquired snidely.

“’Twas only a small matter of bigamy,” Malcolm casually excused. “Sarah is dead now, and we’ll deal with the other problem shortly.”

The tearing green eyes lifted to Ashton’s wondering stare, and she wept as she told him, “Malcolm was already married when he spoke the vows with me. He had put his wife in the madhouse, and then he set a torch to it just to get rid of her.”

The dark brows raised in surprise. “Then you are Sarah’s husband,” Ashton mused aloud. “What she was seeing here was not her imagination.”

Malcolm frowned as he peered at the other man closely. “How do you know Sarah?”

The broad, bare shoulders lifted indolently. “You were not successful in killing her. She works for me now.”

“The little bitch!” Malcolm showed his teeth in a snarl. “She always did give me trouble.”

“If she ever gets her hands on you, Malcolm, your trouble up until then will have been minor,” Ashton remarked laconically. “She did not exactly appreciate being locked away in an asylum.”

The full lips twisted sardonically. “Neither will this one.”

Ashton returned his attention to the one he loved. He read her trepidations in her troubled gaze, but at the moment he could neither say nor do anything to console her.

“When you go downstairs, Wingate, walk far ahead of us,” Malcolm instructed. “You can guess what will happen to your mistress if you disappear out of my sight or make any sudden moves.”

“You can’t expect to hold us hostage while her father and the rest of the servants look on.”

“Ashton, the man is not my father.” She brushed at the tears that spilled down her cheeks and sniffed. “He’s Malcolm’s father.”

“Aye,” Malcolm agreed. “And by now he should have the rest of the servants locked safely away.” Moving carefully across the room with his burden, he motioned Ashton to the door with the gun. “Let’s go now. And be careful if you have a care for this redhead.”

Ashton strode leisurely ahead of the man, glancing back now and then to see how Lierin was faring. As before, Malcolm carried her in one arm and kept the weapon ready to use in his other hand. When the pair reached the lower hall, Ashton was already at the settee. He halted at the younger man’s command and turned to face the doorway as Malcolm stepped through.

“Hurry it up,” the tawny-haired man flung over his shoulder as Edward Gaitling came rushing from the back of the house with a long length of cord. “Get Wingate tied…and be quick about it. No mistakes now.”

Ashton looked directly into the reddened gray eyes as the actor came forward, but Edward dropped his gaze in sudden haste and, stepping behind the taller man, drew Ashton’s arms behind his back and secured the wrists with several tight loops of the rope and a trio of firm knots.

“Tie his ankles, too,” Malcolm ordered. “I don’t want the bloody bastard kicking me.”

Edward pushed Ashton back onto the settee and warned, “You know of course that it won’t do you any good to attack me.”

Malcolm sneered at his father’s feeble attempts to subdue the man by logic. “Wingate knows if he tries anything Lenore will die, now do what I told you.”

Lumbering footsteps came from the back of the house, and everyone in the room paused to listen, Malcolm with bated breath. Two brawny shapes stepped to the parlor door, and when he spied them, a long sigh of relief slipped from his lips. One man had frizzy red hair and bore a pair of pistols in his belt. The other carried a long gaming gun, and a knife was tucked in a leather sheath at his waist. A mass of black hair brushed his shoulders.

Ashton’s hackles rose as he recognized the brigand, and he bent a sharp, questioning stare upon Malcolm. “Are these some more of your men?”

The younger man directed the pair to take up their positions, one beside the hall entry, while the other was motioned to a place near the french doors. Finally deigning to acknowledge Ashton’s inquiry, Malcolm turned a smirk over his shoulder. “What if they are?”

Ashton jerked his head toward the small giant. “That one came aboard my steamer during a pirate’s attack. He’s the one who shot me after Lierin fell overboard.”

Malcolm laughed shortly. “He’ll get that chance again soon enough.”

“And your other man…who guarded the house,” Ashton pressed. “He worked in the engine room about that same time. No doubt he sabotaged the engine when the pirate’s barge came into view.”

“Well, aren’t you the smart one, Mister Wingate,” Malcolm sneered.

“If they’re your men, then you must be the leader of the band of pirates who’ve been making raids on the riverboats…and who attacked mine.”

Malcolm presented a question to the red-haired man. “How soon will the others be coming, Tappy?”

“Some should be comin’ in shortly,” the miscreant answered. “A few more’ll be comin’ later on. The rest are gettin’ the ship readied for when you get there.”

“We won’t be able to leave here until after dark,” Malcolm replied. “I don’t want Wingate’s men coming after us.”

“Ye’ve called out a small army ter deal with one man,” Tappy observed. “An’ he looks like he’s wounded, at that.”

“Wingate killed four of our men this morning and that’s all he got! A mere scratch!” Malcolm snapped. “I’m not taking any more chances with him. Robert Somerton was a very rich man, and I don’t want anything to spoil my inheritance.”

“What be ye goin’ ter do with the man here?” the black, straggly-haired one asked with a leering grin.

The pirate leader laughed in amusement as he detected the eagerness of his cohort. “Why, Barnaby, I thought you might enjoy cutting Wingate up a mite, then the lady can really have his heart to carry around with her while she’s in the madhouse.”

A sudden shriek of rage rent the air, and Malcolm stumbled back as a sharp heel scraped rudely down his shin. In the next instant he found himself set upon by a clawing, biting, hissing she-cat. He yelped in pain as her long nails raked across his cheek, drawing blood, and with a back-handed slap he sent her reeling to the floor. In the very next moment he had to swing the pistol around and halt Ashton as that one came rushing toward him with a snarl. It was most apparent that Edward Gaitling had forgotten the bonds for his ankles.