The Tiger's Lady Read Online Free

guttural curse. “Careful, English. The jackal is nearly upon us,” he whispered in warning.
    With fingers iron-hard yet infinitely gentle, he caught her chin and guided her slightly to the left.
    Freeing his right arm to strike , Barrett thought. The knowledge of her danger broke over her then, making her shiver.
    Suddenly, with a movement so swift that it ripped the breath from her throat, he thrust her to one side and lunged past her, his right hand gripping the dagger that had been concealed within his cane.
    As if in a dream Barrett saw the dark swirl of his cloak, saw the blur of his hands as they wrapped around a man with a scarf drawn up about his face. His eyes glinting, her rescuer tossed the man back against the wall of wrought iron and leveled his blade against the man’s neck.
    “Why?” Only one word, but it pulsed darkly, raw with violence.
    “Arrrrrr!”
    The Indian loosened his grip, allowing his captive to speak.
    “P-paid.” He swallowed audibly. “Told me to snatch ’er.” He jerked his head at Barrett, who was watching wide-eyed a few paces away.
    The dagger rose fractionally. “Paid by whom, English dog?”
    “Dunno. Din’t care t’ ask the gent’s name, if yer knows what I mean,” her pursuer added nervously.
    “Describe the man.”
    “Din’t see nothin’—’e were ’id behind a curtain when we talked. Couldn’t even ’ear ’is voice proper.” Then, as the knife pricked his throat again, “Yer—yer gotta believe me!”
    “Where were you to take her?”
    “Over Wappin’ way—a little inn on Ratcliffe ’ighway near the London dock. Someone to meet us there. I were to get my two ’undred pounds there, too.”
    Two hundred pounds! Barrett’s breath caught. Such a sum to kidnap her? It was a veritable fortune! Who would pay so much?
    But already she had a fair inkling. To such a man two hundred pounds would mean nothing, nor even two thousand.
    Suddenly the Indian’s fingers stripped away the man’s hat and scarf to bare his gaunt, pockmarked face. “Do you know him?”
    Barrett shook her head.
    The Indian said something low and cold in the man’s ear, something that Barrett could not quite make out. But she saw her attacker’s face bleed white, saw his lips thin and his eyes widen with fear. “No, guv—never that! Lemme go—I’ll be off before yer can even blink yer bleedin’ eye. No ’arm done to the little miss after all,” he whined.
    His captor’s lips curled in disgust. He glanced at Barrett. “Shall I kill him for you?” He asked coolly, flatly, as if it were a question one might raise every day.
    “Wait!” The man in his grip twitched in terror. “There were somethin’ else—I remember now. Saw it when the fellow got up to leave. The little finger—part of it were gone, cut away like. Not much, but it’s all I saw, I swear it!” His voice was raw with panic.
    Just as Barrett’s had been only minutes before. But the thought gave her little pleasure.
    “Well?” the man in the turban repeated, frowning. “Say the word and I shall see it done.” His blade climbed to the man’s chin.
    “No!” she said quickly. “He—he’s not important. Surely this one can be of no further help—or harm.”
    “I fear you are right. He is nothing but a worthless jackal that yaps at the heels of the tiger.” With a dark oath, the Indian tossed his captive roughly out into the street. “Go then, heart of a jackal. And if you should see your tiger, tell him to mind his back.”
    Staggering, the man made for the far side of the building. After that he did not stop running until he’d melted into the maze of alleys behind the auction rooms.
    “So, little falcon, I have released him. Were the choice mine, this hireling would not run so carefree right now.” Sapphire flashing, the man turned back to Barrett. When he saw that her features were once more hidden behind the veil, his face hardened. “So quickly you cover yourself? Do you fear me