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W ith her senses on high alert, Samantha followed Adrian into the windblown house. She didn’t like the look of the man who’d opened the door, nor the one who’d agreed to help them. There was something too sinister in the first man’s expression while the other appeared too cunning.

But no matter what came next, she was not defenseless. Not with four lethal hairpins holding her messy updo in place and blades concealed both inside her boots and jacket sleeves.

“This way, if you please,” said the large man who’d granted them entry. His companion leaned against the far wall of the cramped foyer, leering at them in a manner that made Samantha pray for a reason to punch him.

The large man led them past his companion toward an open door to the left. Adrian paused when he came abreast of the oily fellow, the hard look he gave the man assuring Samantha that he too was itching to swipe the smug look off his face.

The bastard merely raised his eyebrows.

“Blade,” said the large man, his voice containing enough authority to let Samantha know that he was the one in charge. “Show some hospitality will you?”

Blade swept one arm to the side and sketched a mock bow. “Welcome to our humble abode.”

Adrian gradually turned his attention toward the room the other man led them into and continued forward. Samantha followed, her attention on Blade, whose gleaming gaze seemed to devour her inch by inch as she strode past next.

Her fingertips twitched in response to the unpleasant feeling of having him at her back. The temptation to slide a blade free and press the edge to his throat was overwhelming. Stomach tight, she forced herself to breathe, to relax into her new situation, to not ruin this for them.

They needed the transport these men could provide. But by God, if any of them so much as touched her, she’d spill their blood in a second and find some other means out of the country.

A thought upon which she paused when she entered the room they’d been ushered into. Two additional men were present there, both seated at a coarse wooden table. One was as ugly as Blade, with a dark red scar on his unshaved jaw, the other unremarkable by comparison. Neither one moved to rise. Not even when they saw her, though their eyes did widen with interest.

A shabby rug covered the floor and sun-faded curtains covered the windows, even though it was light outside. A definite hint at something illicit happening within these walls. Smuggling of some sort she’d wager, considering their proximity to the water.

Samantha cast a look toward the fireplace where low flames licked away at a log. Finally, a point in this place’s favor.

“These ’ere gents are Snipes and Grant,” said the man who’d shown them in. “I’m Wilkes, by the way.”

Adrian crossed to the fireplace, his pace slow and measured, as though he’d no care in the world. Samantha rocked back on her heels, her attention never straying from any of the four men.

Snipes leaned back in his chair. “This is where ye share yer names with us. Or did yer parents not teach ye proper manners?”

“You’d do well to keep my parents out of this conversation,” Adrian said, his back to the room, his voice cool.

Samantha’s muscles coiled, readying her for action. She’d no idea what was going through Adrian’s head at the moment. Only that he had a dangerous air about him that threatened to turn explosive.

Grant snorted. “I bet yer mother was—”

“Croft,” Adrian said, his voice slicing the air with lethal precision. “Mr. and Mrs. Croft to you.”

Only Wilkes showed any hint of knowing the name, his eyes widening just enough to inform Samantha that it had made the desired impact. His pale complexion was further proof.

“Is that supposed to mean something to us?” Blade sauntered closer, his body too near Samantha for comfort. She held herself perfectly still as he leaned toward her and inhaled deeply, as though he were breathing her in.

“Go see about getting our guests some drinks,” Wilkes told him, the strain in his voice as perceptible as the musty air. “Now, Blade.”

Blade scoffed, hesitated briefly, but finally decided to do as he was told. By the time he returned, Snipes and Grant had been sent off as well, allowing Samantha and Adrian to take a seat at the table with Wilkes.

“I ’ope ye’re all right with a spot of brandy,” Blade said. Four glasses were placed before them, the water running down the sides of them suggesting they’d been hastily rinsed. He proceeded to fill each one with the bottle he’d brought. “I’m afraid it’s all we’ve got at the moment.”

Samantha stared at the glass he pushed toward her. “Thank you, but I’m not very thirsty.”

Not that brandy would help if she were. But there was no way in hell she was drinking out of that glass when marks from the previous user remained on the rim.

Blade dropped into the last chair and grabbed his glass, the liquid spilling over the sides and wetting the table. He flicked his tongue into the brandy with a repulsive degree of suggestiveness. “Maybe ye’ve other needs I can help ye with, Mrs. Croft.”

Wilkes blanched in response to the insult, a hasty glance directed at Adrian as if he feared they’d all be gutted right then and there. The lethal look in Adrian’s eyes suggested he might be pondering it.

When he spoke next, his voice was terrifyingly soft. “I don’t appreciate lewd behavior. Certainly not when it’s directed toward my wife. So you can either apologize, Mr. Blade, or be treated like a filthy beast. Your choice.”

Blade merely downed his brandy with an undignified grunt. “This is our house, our rules, so ye’ll just ’ave to—”

Wilkes’s hand caught hold of Blade’s wrist, his knuckles bright as he leaned in and told him, “Beg for forgiveness, Blade.”

“Ye can’t be serious.” Blade pulled on his arm but Wilkes, the larger and stronger of the pair, held him in place.

“They’re guests. Show some bloody restraint for a change.”

Blade held Wilkes’s gaze. Every cell in Samantha’s body prepared for the clash she feared might come. It had been brewing since their arrival. And yet, whatever Blade saw in Wilkes’s eyes, it made him say what was needed. “I apologize, Mrs. Croft.”

She waited for him to look directly at her before she replied, infusing her voice with exaggerated sweetness. “Apology accepted.”

His lips curled with repressed anger before he shoved back his chair and stood. “I’ll go see if Snipes and Grant need me.”

Samantha tracked his movements as he left the room, the heels of his boots dragging across the wood flooring.

“Now then,” Wilkes said, his voice overpowering the sound of Blade’s movements in the hallway beyond. “I believe you were wanting to make a deal, Mr. Croft. Something about a need to get out of the country?”

“Mmm…” The gruff sound was followed by a decided nod. “You’ll be handsomely rewarded for your assistance.”

Wilkes kept a steady eye on Adrian while crossing his arms and tipping his chin up ever so slightly. Muffled voices from other parts of the building caught Samantha’s attention. She angled her head but failed to discern any actual words.

“You know, we could just take whatever blunt you’ve got on you and see that you’re never heard from again,” Wilkes said, his threat snapping Samantha’s attention back to the large man who sat between them. The man had apparently dug up some courage. “Odds are fairly decent, I reckon. Four against two.”

“Possibly,” Adrian agreed, a firm look accompanied by the tiniest shake of his head staying Samantha before she could reach for a lethal hairpin or dagger. “But since you know who I am, you must also realize that men will come looking for me if I don’t show up as expected. It may take a while for them to track you down, but they’ll do so eventually, and once that happens, you’ll pay the price.”

“In other words, I’d be living on borrowed time.”

“Precisely.”

The corner of Wilkes’s mouth lifted. “Best make sure you’re well taken care of, then. Hadn’t I?”

Adrian smirked and Samantha relaxed her posture. “We’ll pay ten pounds for the crossing.”

“A handsome fee indeed.” Wilkes took a swig of brandy. “At that price, you get a couple of beds as well.”

Samantha didn’t dare wonder whose beds they’d be acquiring. If there was so much as an indentation of somebody’s head on the pillow, she’d spend the night in a chair. “How long before we depart?”

“As I mentioned, the ship we’re awaiting should be arriving tomorrow evening. We’ll set off as soon as we’ve got her within our sights.”

“In the rowboat,” Samantha asked, just to be sure she understood the whole plan.

“It’s the only vessel we’ve got.”

She leaned forward, forearms resting on the table. “How do you know the captain of the ship you’re awaiting will take us the rest of the way?”

Wilkes grinned, eyes flashing with humor. “For one thing, he owes me a favor. For another, he’s as willing to make a bit of coin as anyone else.” He tossed back the last of his drink and jutted his chin at the door. “How about I show you where you’ll be staying? After that, we’ll see about fixing some food.”

Samantha remained at Adrian’s back as they followed Wilkes through the house. They passed Snipes, who stood in a doorway, his shoulder propped against the jamb, the door itself shut behind him as though he were guarding the way in. Samantha eyed him when she drew level with him, his smug expression an unspoken challenge.

She resisted the urge to respond and kept on moving. Upstairs, Blade and Grant had taken up similar positions in front of another door. Neither man said a word as Wilkes led Adrian and Samantha past them toward the room at the end of the hallway.

“You can stay in here.” Wilkes gave the space a quick sweep with his gaze before he called out, “Come fetch your things, Grant. You’re sleeping elsewhere tonight.”

“You can’t be serious,” Grant complained while Blade produced a low chuckle.

“Don’t make me show you how serious I am,” Wilkes told him.

The threat had the desired effect, convincing Samantha that Wilkes was likely the most lethal one of the lot. Despite his hospitable manner, he’d earned the right to order the other three men about. To underestimate him would be a mistake.

She said as much to Adrian as soon as the two of them were alone. “I also think there’s more to their business than plain and simple smuggling. The way they guarded those rooms isn’t normal. And I could have sworn I heard noises coming from inside the one at the top of the stairs.”

Adrian arched an eyebrow. “What kind of noises?”

“Rustling and murmurs. Human in nature, that’s for certain.”

“So you think they might be dealing in people?” His expression had tightened, just enough to convey his disapproval with that line of work.

“I realize it’s just an assumption based on nothing more than a fleeting sound.” She glanced toward the door. “There’s every chance I’m mistaken.”

Adrian nodded. “Either way, there’s nothing we can do about it right now. If we try to get at the truth, they’ll think they can’t trust us, in which case we’ll probably lose our chance of escape. Plus, if they are people smugglers, we’ll find out tomorrow when they fill that rowboat up with their cargo.”

“And then?” She stared at him, aware of the tough decision they might have to make. Hoping it would not come to that and that she was wrong.

“And then we assess the situation.” His palm found her cheek, his fingertips lightly grazing her skin – an endearment that didn’t quite banish her worries though it did remind her that they were in this together. “Until then, I recommend keeping our wits about us and staying put.”