“Oh blast.” Julianna lifted her foot and grimaced, eyeing the puddle she’d failed to avoid.

Wind buffeted her, pushing back her hood for the hundredth time and soaking her hair. The warm glow of lamplights from the few cottages scattered across the hills leading down to the village made her shudder in envy. The sooner she made it back to her lodgings, the better.

No, the sooner she found her brother, the better. Damn the man. Why did Knight have to be so secretive and evasive? It was not like someone would ever come after him.

Unlike her. For all she knew, her fiancé could be on his way down to Cornwall right now, likely ensconced in a nice, luxurious carriage. She trudged farther along the grooves created by carts and carriages travelling up the hillside, keeping to the grass so as to avoid any more puddles.

Of course, John would travel in nothing less than luxury while she had been forced to take the mail coach all the way down to Cornwall. That in itself had been daunting, crammed into a tiny compartment with strangers. However, it was still better than waiting around to be married to such an awful man. Now all she had to do was find her brother and pray he could help her. If not, she would likely starve on the streets.

And what unforgiving streets these were. The tiny fishing village was vastly different to her father’s estate on the border of Scotland, or Edinburgh or any of the other fine towns throughout the country. Ships were docked in the harbor, their lamps lit and reflecting off the choppy water. Even the long estuary could not protect them from the raging sea. Smaller fishing boats kept them company, bobbing up and down with each wave. Sea spray battered the village that huddled around the estuary.

Julianna hunched farther into her cloak, pinning it in place with a hand. The gentle weight of her reticule knocked against her hip, reminding her of her destitute state. She had little coin left and had only just been able to afford her lodgings for the night. All the travelling had cost her what little fortune she had to her name. Somehow, she would need to find a way to earn money because she would not ever return home, not if it meant being forced into a marriage with the vile Mr. John Slade.

The sign of a boot hanging over the inn in the distance made her muscles loosen. She would get warm, dry off, and then begin her hunt again as soon as the sun rose. Perhaps she should have stayed at the previous inn until the rain had eased, but she could not remain around such a man. She might not have a wealth of experience around men, but she knew a rogue when she saw one. Whoever he was, she had no doubt he would try to take advantage of her, and Julianna Knight was no fool.

Or perhaps she was. She paused, aware of a shadow in the periphery of her vision. Her cloak blocked much of her vision, so she pushed it back a little, quickening her pace. She could not hear footsteps over the gusts of wind and rain, but a shiver trailed its icy fingers up her spine. And it was not because of the cold.

She was being followed.

Risking a glance over her shoulder, the ice solidified in her stomach.

She could not see his features, but he was a big man and clearly following her. Julianna fixed her attention on the inn sign. She was not far away. If she could just make it—

Another man darted out of the alleyway between two cottages, blocking her path. She froze, turned on a heel, and gulped. The other man advanced, the light from the nearby cottage revealing features that could well have been carved in stone. Both men’s clothing was ragged and worn. Just as she had known that man in the inn was a rogue, she knew these men meant no good.

“I have no coin,” she declared. “I am not rich.”

The man in front of her smirked. “Could have fooled me.” He stepped close and lifted the golden tie of her cloak. “Oh, aye, you are rich.” He glanced at the man behind her.

Julianna barely dared to breathe. If she flinched back, she would end up pressed against the front of the other man. Her chest tightened, breathing became harder. Cold fingers grew hot beneath her gloves. She tried to gulp down the knot in her throat and forced herself to eye the man. She had survived her journey alone thus far—she was not going to stumble now.

“I have no riches.” She forced herself to take a breath to steady her voice. “Nothing to offer you. I swear it.”

Both men closed in upon her, creating a prison of bodies. The man behind her was the bigger of them. The one in front could hardy claim to be small but he had less breadth to him and he could only be a few inches taller than her. If she had to do something, she would do it to him. The small penknife concealed in her reticule was all she had for protection. She had secreted it away before leaving home, all too aware how easily preyed upon a woman was when alone, but she had never anticipated using it.

“You have plenty to offer,” the man in front of her sneered. “Oh, plenty indeed.” He skimmed a finger past her collar bone and let it linger on the gap of flesh between her bodice and the tie of the cloak.

Julianna counted her breaths, ignoring the unwelcome touch. Neither man would back off, so she had to take her chance when she could find it. One...two...when should she act? Three...four...Sooner rather than later. Before one of them grabbed her and truly had her held prisoner.

“Actually,” she declared. “I do have coin. I just remembered.”

The man behind her chuckled, and she felt the noise vibrate through her body from his proximity.

“You said you weren’t rich.”

“Yes, well, I...” She lifted her reticule. “I forgot.” Opening it slowly, she tucked the knife against her palm and made a show of fumbling around in the bag. “I just know there was something...” She leaned over, blocking the man’s view of the bag. “Ah, here it—”

Snapping up her head, she whipped up the penknife, dragging it across the man’s face. A startled cry escaped him, and Julianna used his shock to push past him and race down the road. The cobbles were slippery underfoot and made running precarious, even in her practical boots. She nearly lost her footing several times before turning a corner and darting into an alleyway.

Concealed in the gloom, she pressed herself against the slick wall of the building behind her. Hot, sticky, fear ran through her body, making her palms sweat beneath her gloves. She gripped the tiny knife until the bone handle hurt her palm. Rain continued to hammer the ground. Blasted weather. If it was not raining, she would be able to hear if they were approaching and ready herself.

Either way, she prepared herself, knife held up. She had not seen the damage that had been done but it was likely minuscule. The small blade was good for opening letters and little more.

She shrank deeper into the dark as shadows moved past, not daring to move or even breathe. Once she was certain they were gone, she would make her way back to the inn. Julianna peered up the passage. If she could find her way back. She had not been here long enough to be able to navigate the intricate alleyways of the village.

Heavy heartbeats passed and still she waited. Surely they would have given up on her by now? Whatever they wanted from her, it was not worth waiting around in the pouring rain. She shifted closer to the edge of building and ducked her head out.

A hand grabbed her, and she screamed. The knife fell from her numb fingers. Another hand clamped over her mouth and she was dragged against a solid body. The body of the larger man. Eyes wide, she peered up at the smaller man whose grin revealed yellowed and rotten teeth.

“Wanted to play a game, did we?” He pressed a finger to the bleeding mark on his cheek. “I’ll have to repay you for that.”

Julianna wriggled against the hold of her imprisoner, kicking back with her feet, trying to hit his shins, his loins, anything. Her feet met empty air and she felt him chuckle.

“We can get plenty of money for you. And for your clothes. Even for your hair.”

A tremor wracked her as she imagined herself naked with her hair shorn at the mercy of these men.

He jerked his head behind him. “Take her this way. We can—”

The man’s face contorted. His eyes bulged. He clutched his shoulder. Julianna watched him sink to the ground, his mouth open in a silent scream of pain, revealing the man from the inn—the one who had said he had known her brother. He held a pistol in one hand and a knife in the other. She did not need daylight to know there would be blood on that knife.

“I can blow your head off or you can let the lady go,” he offered the man who held her so tightly that her ribs felt as though they were being crushed.

The man gave a grunt and squeezed her harder. Julianna could not help release a distressed sound, fearing he would crush her body entirely, leaving her nothing more than a crumpled mess of blood and bones.

Her rescuer’s eyes narrowed at the sound. He shook his head and lunged forward.