Forget Me Not by Blue Melissa Lynne

Author:Blue, Melissa Lynne [Blue, Melissa Lynne]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2012-05-08T21:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

All hell broke loose.

The words ‘1000 pounds’ and ‘son of a bitch Irishman’ no doubt pierced the din of the tavern and within moments a horde of men stampeded toward the staircase.

The man who’d sounded the alarm stepped from his room wearing naught but a knee length nightshirt. He cast an assessing eye toward Brian, seemed to think better of attacking him, and made a lunge for Lydia. Instinctively she sidled behind Brian’s sheltering frame. Visions of Felix Keith waving a heavy billfold swirled through her mind. With one powerful flick of his arm Brian sent the assailant sailing to the flat of his back. In the next moment a crush of attackers, some with guns and knives at the ready, piled over the top of the stairs.

“Run to our room,” Brian commanded, placing urgent hands at her waist.

She threw a harried glance into his face as panic enveloped her senses, her arms and legs felt leaden, uncooperative. “But we’ll be trapped.”

“Now!” he barked, ushering her roughly along. “We’ve no time to dawdle or that mob will have you to Keith by noon tomorrow.” Lydia stumbled through the hall to their door, fingers thick with fear she fumbled with the doorknob. “Hurry it up, lass!” In one swift motion Brian grasped the door handle, snaked an arm around her waist and spun them into the room. Kicking the door shut behind them he slammed the deadbolt home.

“Thank you,” she murmured. Crushed against the heat of his honed chest, the pounding of his pulse was palpable beneath her palm.

His gaze clouded with a combination of passion, longing, and something she could not quite put her finger on, but it was akin to… fear? Perhaps pain? The pain of loss ever present behind her father’s eyes. “Lydia,” he rasped, voice husky, “should I nev—”

A horrendous crash caused the aging boards of the door to buckle inward, threatening to give way. The frenzied shouts of the mob were barely discernible, though the intent was more than clear.

She jumped back out of his arms. “Perhaps this should wait until we’re safely away from the inn.” As if to confirm her statement another collision threatened to splinter the heavy deadbolt.

Brian grasped her upper arm. “Wait just a moment. Ye must know, Lydia, I—”

“Blimey!” Brandon’s voice squealed from behind the partition. “Jest wha’ the hell is goin’ on out there.” The boy staggered from behind the curtain, dragging shabby trousers up over his hips. The repeated shouts of “1000 pounds” and “goddamn Irishman” did not leave him wondering long. “Oh, so that mob recognized her did they? And yer worth the same dead or alive, Brian, nice knowin’ ye.”

“Dead or alive,” Lydia cried, all anger fleeing. “You didn’t tell me that.”

“Shut up, lad.” Brian released Lydia’s arm. Testily he grasped a heavy bureau and yanked it onto one side, blocking the door and hopefully the siege. “That may buy us a few minutes.” He strode across the room to the window, scooping up the satchel as he went.

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