Page 9 of Eight Hunting Lyons (The Lyon’s Den Connected World)

G emma felt the chill to her bones. Father had not returned, neither had any of their servants come to light the fire for her. Used to fending for herself when Father had all of the servants attending him and his business associates, she carried the candle over to the fireplace, set it on the floor and stirred the embers with the poker. Satisfied when the spark burst into a tiny flame, she soon had the fire going and the room warming.

Setting the candle on her bedside table, she paced from the fireplace to the window and back. How long would it be before anyone returned? “Father would never dismiss everyone—would he?”

Uncertainty had painful knots twisting in her belly. “I will never marry Harkwell!” she vowed. “Never!”

Worry slithered in to add a roiling to her belly. Ignoring the queasiness, she tamped down her fear. “What would Simon do…where is my brother?”

The sound of heavy footsteps approaching her bedchamber had her reaching for the fireplace poker. She’d not go willingly. Her back to the wall, poker raised above her head, she held her breath.

The door to her room burst open and Gemma brought the poker down with all of her might.

“What in the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?”

Fear evaporated in an instant. “Captain! Why are you here?”

He rubbed the back of his head and grimaced when his hand came away wet. Bleeding . “Do you always attack first and ask questions later?” he rasped.

“I’ve never been in this situation before.”

He reached for her hand. “Come with me.”

“Where are we going?”

He mumbled something under his breath but didn’t repeat it. Merely tugged hard. She fell against him but managed to find her balance and brace herself. “Where are we going?”

“I don’t have time for this. We have to leave now.”

“What about my father and Harkwell?”

“I believe they are being questioned right now by the Watch.”

“How did they get here?”

He tugged and, this time, she allowed him to pull her along. “Edmund.”

“You’re brother’s here?”

“Aye. Cease with your questions, Woman.”

“But—”

“Later!”

She nearly bit her tongue holding back what she wanted to say to the man dragging her down the servants’ staircase. It was pitch black. Why wasn’t the captain descending with caution? She barreled into him when he came to an abrupt halt with his hand to the door.

“Oomph!”

Rubbing her nose, she heard his low chuckle. How could he find any humor in this situation? Her father had discovered she’d sought the aid of Mrs. Dove-Lyon to find a husband and was demanding she marry Lord Harkwell—her vote as to who told her father about The Lyon’s Den. If that wasn’t in and of itself enough, he’d sent away the servants and locked her in her room!

A pale shaft of light began to widen as the captain opened the door. He gave another brief tug to get her moving. She followed without a sound. Her life was in this man’s hands, and she would do anything he asked as long as their footsteps led her to freedom.