Dangerous to Hold Read Online Free PDF Page B

before tonight. I don’t know you.”
    Doubt and uncertainty shadowed his eyes. “You’re English,” he said.
    “Of course I’m English. What did you expect?”
    “My wife was Spanish.”
    “Catalina was your wife?”
    He nodded.
    “I’m not your wife.”
    “So it would seem.” He made a slight movement that managed to convey regret, then lowered his arms. “I beg your pardon. I hope I didn’t frighten you, but of course, I must have done. I apologize most sincerely. Now thatI’ve had a better look at you, I see that you’re not Catalina, though you are very like her.”
    His words relieved her worst fears, and she lowered the pistol. When she saw that several curious spectators had stopped to watch, including the driver of the hackney, she thrust the pistol inside her muff. She was still trembling, still trying to even her breathing. The temptation to take to her heels was almost overpowering. It would be the worst thing she could do. She must appear natural.
    “Apology accepted,” she said. “No harm done,” and with a nod and a smile, she turned to go on her way. She had not taken one step when she was seized from behind and a strong masculine hand gagged her, cutting off her scream of alarm. His other arm clamped her muff to her body, making it impossible for her to get to her pistol. Kicking, writhing, she was lifted off her feet and hauled toward the hackney.
    “My wife,” Marcus told the captivated bystanders, “hopes to elope with Lord Berkeley. And I would let her, if it were not for our six children at home.”
    Catherine bit down on his thumb and he grunted. When he released her mouth, she cried out, appealing to their audience, “It’s a lie! I don’t know this man.”
    There was a menacing murmur from the crowd which Marcus silenced with his next words. “Ours was an arranged marriage. She married me for my wealth and title. Now, she has come to regret it.” Then, in a different tone, for Catherine’s ears only, “Is that not so, my dear wife?”
    Catherine knew she was losing the sympathy of the people who could help her, and she cried out desperately. “Fetch the Watch and we’ll soon see who is telling the truth. I’m not his wife, I tell you.”
    Her words had the desired effect. Someone called out, “Let ’er be, guv’nor, till we fetches the Watch.”
    Marcus ignored the warning. He had the coach door open and was hoisting her inside when the crowd surged forward, sending them both sprawling to their knees. Marcus was their target, and Catherine lost no time inscrambling free. Once on her feet, she took off like a hare.
    She glanced back once and saw that the crowd was dispersing. There was no sign of Marcus and that only increased her panic. She turned into a tavern, hovered just inside the entrance, and when a waiter came forward, waved him away and made for the back door.
    The mews of Pall Mall were as different from the front as night from day. There were a few lanterns lit, but their light hardly made an impression on the velvety darkness. She struck out toward the lights of the main thoroughfare, but she had not gone far along that dark lane before she was wishing she had remained in the tavern. Walls seemed to close in on her, and at every small sound, her heart stopped beating. She tried to hurry and went stumbling through muddy potholes and heaps of manure that had been cleared out of stables for the scavengers to collect in the morning. She felt in her coat pocket, retrieved her handkerchief, and held it to her nose.
    When she came to the junction that led to Charing Cross, she stopped to get her bearings. She didn’t think Marcus had given up the chase. He’d been like a man possessed. He’d panicked her, and that didn’t happen to her very often. Now that she had got a grip on herself, she was beginning to wonder if she should have held her ground and waited for the Watch to arrive.
    She pressed back against the brick wall of a stable while she considered