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“As well as one could be under such circumstances, I suppose,” she said calmly, though he could feel the tremors racking her body.

Rafe’s eyes narrowed on the welt on her cheek. “He hurt you.”

“Nonsense, it was a feeble blow.” She shook her head, then flinched as a wet lock of hair slapped her injured flesh.

A hiss escaped his clenched teeth. As much as he was loath to admit it, she was correct. If Clayton had put any force into the slap, the side of her face would have been shattered beyond recognition. That didn’t stop him from wanting to pound the son of a bitch into the ground like a rail spike. If Rafe weren’t so reluctant to release Cassandra, he would be doing just that. Thankfully, Clayton thus far was in no condition to fight.

However, Rafe’s new second- and third-in-command were making short work of the remaining rogues. In moments they could arrest Clayton and this whole infuriating business would end. He could have the traitor in chains and exact his wrathful punishment at leisure. The bastard would suffer. Of that Rafe was most certain.

“Paul, go fetch reinforcements!” Clayton commanded, blood spurting between his fingers from where he grasped his wound. “Now!”

A third rogue scuttled out from the shadows and out the rear exit before anyone could react. Rafe cursed under his breath. He should have anticipated that.

The sound of nearing footsteps reached his ears. Rafe and Clayton simultaneously sniffed the air like wolves and locked gazes. Humans were approaching, doubtless to investigate the source of the gunshot.

“It may be a constable,” Clayton whispered.

His wound was healing, but he was pale and weak from blood loss. Easy to vanquish…

Rafe shook his head. Unfortunately, the hijo de puta was most likely correct. Cursing inwardly, he silently commanded Anthony and Elizabeth to withdraw. Clayton did the same with his rogues.

Rafe gathered Cassandra in his arms and Clayton’s henchmen rushed to their master, holding him up before he could fall.

As Rafe and his would-be usurper drew apart, they both paused and eyed one another like opposing monarchs across a narrow sea.

The sound of the approaching humans drew nearer.

“This is not finished,” Rafe snarled.

Clayton nodded. “Enjoy the last days of your reign, Villar. Soon there will be a revolution the likes of which our kind has never seen. London shall be mine, and you and your pet countess will pay for your crimes against our people.”

Rafe laughed humorlessly. “I think you have that reversed, Edmondson.”

He inclined his head in a mocking half bow and carried Cassandra away without a backward glance as Clayton shrieked insults and mad vows of retribution. Damn the interfering mortals. If not for them, he could have had that traitor’s head on a spike.

Yet somehow it didn’t matter much, not when Cassandra was once more in his arms. He would deal with Clayton later. After all, he had other matters to address right now.

How could Cassandra have put herself in danger like this? How could someone with a brilliant mind such as hers be so goddamned foolish? Rafe looked down at the bruise on her cheek.

A fresh torrent of rage roared through him like an inferno.

* * *

Cassandra’s pulse lodged in her throat at the fury in Rafe’s eyes as he carried her out of the warehouse. When he’d rescued her from Clayton, he’d seemed so relieved and concerned for her well-being. Now he looked cold and cruel. Had she imagined his earlier warmth? Was he angry that Clayton had abducted her because he wanted to kill her himself?

The moral of an old tale came to mind: De piscibus e sartigine in prunas desilentibus. She was just like the fish that leaped from the boiling fat into the burning coals.

Despite her doomed situation, her traitorous body reveled in the feel of his arms around her and his compelling scent of dark spices and tobacco. She bit back a moan as a frisson of heat pulsed between her thighs.

No! I will not succumb to this madness again. Before she melted against him, Cassandra made a valiant effort to struggle out of his grip. People had entered the warehouse now; she could hear them. If she made it to them—

Immediately, Rafe’s arms clamped down like iron. “Don’t even think about it, Querida.”

Her brows drew together and she emitted an unladylike snort. How could he continue to use that endearment?

Rafe scowled down at her as Anthony and Elizabeth approached.

“Damn those nosy humans!” Anthony growled. “In another moment, I would have had that bloody rogue—”