The Abducted Heiress. Claire Thornton

using gunpowder in Fleet Street,’ Jakob explained. ‘Blowing up houses to make a fire break. But unless the wind drops…’

      He gripped his shirt tightly and jerked his hands apart. The fine linen ripped and. Desire watched in bewilderment as he tore his shirt into several pieces.

      ‘Why are you doing that?’ she asked.

      ‘Just a precaution, my lady,’ he replied, smiling in a way that she only belatedly realised was deeply suspicious.

      In one smooth movement, he seized her wrists and efficiently tied them together with a piece of ragged linen.

      Desire struggled valiantly. Water splashed everywhere but, but in the confines of the cistern, she had little chance to evade him.

      She cursed him freely, anger temporarily displacing the underlying fear she continued to feel in his presence.

      ‘You mangy, flea-ridden, thieving, ill-begotten cur!’ she raged, just before he pushed one of the rags in her mouth.

      He tied the strip of linen securely behind her head. Then he smiled at her.

      She blinked water out of her eyes and glared at him over the gag.

      ‘Time to go,’ he said, and hauled her out of the cistern.

      Instantly she swung up her bound hands in an attempt to hit him in the face.

      He barely managed to dodge the blow as her hands rasped across the stubble on his chin. He swore briefly and concisely, and threw her over his naked shoulder.

      Desire kicked viciously and tried to pound her fists against any part of his anatomy that she could reach. His grip on her tightened until it was painful as he went across the roof and down the stairs that led to a side entrance. From there he had only to run through the gardens behind the house to reach the river-gate.

      Desire stopped struggling. He marginally relaxed his grip, but he didn’t slow down. Instead of trying to hit him, Desire concentrated on getting rid of the gag. If she could only attract the attention of her watchmen…

      But it wasn’t easy when Jakob was jolting her along upside-down through the neatly clipped box hedges. By the time they’d reached the boathouse she’d only just managed to free her mouth, painfully pulling out several strands of her hair that had been caught in the knot as she did so.

      Jakob laid her on the ground and began to drag up her charred, water-soaked skirts. Desire fought desperately, flailing at him with her clubbed fists, whimpering with terror. She had no breath to scream for help.

      He threw himself over her, finally containing her struggles with the weight of his large body.

      ‘Stop fighting, you vixen,’ he said, through gritted teeth. ‘I’m only trying to find out if your legs are burnt.’

      ‘You lecher!’

      ‘I should have left you to roast!’

      ‘Hell-spawn.’

      ‘Hell-cat.’

      For a few moments they both lay still, breathing heavily. Reason slowly replaced the terrifying images of rape that had filled Desire’s mind. She didn’t trust Jakob, but so far he hadn’t actually hurt her.

      ‘My legs aren’t burnt,’ she said frigidly

      She shoved ineffectually at the solid bulk of his torso. The weight of his hard body pinning her to the ground was profoundly disturbing. She wasn’t used to intimate physical contact with any human being—much less with a large, powerful man naked to the waist. She felt trapped and frightened—and furious at her sense of helplessness.

      ‘You’re too upset to know if they are,’ he retorted, easing himself cautiously away from her.

      ‘I’m not stupid!’ she snapped. ‘I’d know if my own legs were burnt.’

      ‘I’ve seen men wounded in battle who didn’t even know their legs had been cut off!’ Jakob countered.

      ‘Battle…? Are you claiming to be a soldier?’ Desire jabbed her knuckles against the ridges of his stomach, ineffectually trying to increase the distance between them.

      Jakob winced. ‘Until lately I was an officer in the Swedish army,’ he growled.

      ‘An officer?’ she scoffed. ‘A cowardly deserter more like. Or a camp-following scavenger who steals from wounded me—’

      He clamped one large hand over her mouth.

      ‘Var tyst! We’d have been on our way by now if you weren’t such a wildcat.’

      ‘Way? Where?’ Desire demanded, as soon as he took his hand away.

      Jakob didn’t reply. Instead he moved so suddenly she was left gasping with shock. One minute he was lying half on top of her, the next he was straddling her hips, his back towards her head as he doggedly pulled up her skirts.

      Outraged, Desire hammered his broad shoulders with her bound fists. His naked flesh was hard and unyielding. Only his occasional grunt indicated he wasn’t entirely immune to her assault. Desire kicked wildly, trying to clout him in the face with her knees.

      With a muttered curse he finally managed to contain her struggles. Half-blinded by her hair, panting with her exertions, Desire endured the insufferable indignity of having her captor satisfy himself that her lower limbs were only minimally scorched.

      ‘All this material must have protected you,’ he announced at last, ‘your chemise isn’t even singed. I don’t think you’re much damaged.’

      ‘That’s what I said!’ Desire was beside herself with rage. ‘How dare you…’

      He jumped off her, springing aside just in time to avoid a well-aimed blow to his groin as she scythed her hands upwards.

      He grabbed her joined fists, pulling her to her feet in one smoothly continuous movement.

      ‘I should have trussed you tighter!’ he declared in exasperation.

      ‘You oaf! I’m a lady!’ Desire was incensed at his impertinent suggestion.

      ‘Not like any I ever met before.’ He dragged her along behind him. ‘You’d have made this a lot easier on both of us if you’d had the good sense to swoon when you first saw me.’

      ‘I never swoon.’

      ‘More’s the pity.’

      Jakob found some rope in the boathouse and tied it around Desire’s knees, over her blackened, dirty wet skirts.

      ‘You’ll hang,’ she taunted him, from her undignified position on the ground. ‘At Tyburn, you’ll hang for this.’

      Jakob merely grunted. Now that he was no longer hampered by Desire’s stubborn resistance he made short work of getting the small rowing boat on to the Thames and Desire into the boat. He even locked the gate, thoughtfully safeguarding the house from river-borne looters. He dropped the key on Desire’s lap, pushed the boat away from the river stairs and began to row upstream.

      Desire stared at him in baffled fury, then twisted around to look at the burning city behind her. The boat rocked precariously in the waves stirred up by the wind and the other crafts that thronged the river. Desire was stunned by the scenes of devastation all around her.

      The Thames was full of people escaping the inferno. Boats were piled high with belongings. She could hear a woman sobbing, children screaming…

      She abandoned her half-formed plan to shout for help. Amidst this chaos her cries would either go completely unnoticed or would be ignored in the general pandemonium.

      She strained to see one last glimpse of her home as Jakob rowed steadily upriver. When they were well beyond the outskirts of London she turned to face him, noticing at once the familiarity with which he handled the oars. His naked torso glistened from his exertions. There was a light dusting of golden curls on his hard-muscled