Rescue Me Please Read online

  Rescue Me Please

  RESCUE ME PLEASE

  The Prodigious Peregrines

  Once you meet them you’ll do

  Anything to please them

  Parker’s Story

  Nichole Matthews

  RESCUE ME PLEASE

  Copyright © 2012 by Nichole Matthews

  Cover design by Nichole Matthews

  Amazon Edition, License Notes

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Amazon and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters and events portrayed in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real person, living or dead is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  EPILOGUE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  PROLOGUE

  Golden slumbers kiss your eyes,

  Smiles await you when you rise.

  Sleep, pretty baby,

  Do not cry,

  And I will sing a lullaby

  When the sound of the loud click registered, she knew she had made a grave miscalculation. She had assumed she would be safe from their lusty gropes if she retired to her room. No true gentleman would seek her out in her own private quarters. Or so she had assumed.

  How could she be so naïve?

  A rash act indeed.

  She spun around. A small worry line appeared between her brows. “W-W-Whatever are you doing in my bedchamber?” she stammered, her voice small and distant as she scrambled backwards, knocking over the only lit candle, enveloping the room in darkness. She blinked her eyes rapidly to adjust to the darkness finding it difficult to breathe as fear squeezed her lungs like a vise. She took a deep breath and then another in an attempt to ease her fear.

  She already worried relentlessly of her future. She was all alone. Her guardian only wanted her inheritance and now this? Accosted in her home? In the privacy of her bedchamber? And by scoundrels who masqueraded as gentlemen, no less. She no longer had a safe place.

  Why, oh why had her mother recited fairytales of knights and princesses? Filling her young mind with misleading ideals of the world only to have the rug pulled right out from under her feet to reveal the dust and dirt that had been swept beneath for years?

  Why had her parents deliberately misled?

  Why were girls brought up to be unsuspecting fools as women? Surely men did not seek such silly women for their wives and the mothers of their children? This brought about only one conclusion to her way of thinking.

  Men were the bigger fools.

  The disreputable-looking stranger entered her room and deliberately circled her. His gaze chilled her to the bone.

  “Ain’t ye a pretty bit o’ muslin?” He pressed into her, his foul-odor overwhelming her senses for a brief moment before she was able to gain control. She stood tall and straight avoiding the urge to cover her nose and mouth with her perfumed handkerchief to mask his foul stench. She made do by taking short even puffs of air.

  “Do you presume to take such liberties?” Her gaze drifted over the large man. “My uncle will see you hung for your audacity.” She said the words, grateful that she sounded strong in her conviction because she truly wasn’t sure if her uncle would care if she were harmed or would relish performing the deed himself.

  He reached out a hand and made a grab at one of her loose red curls, her crowning glory according to her mother and now her disreputable uncle. The strangers touch too intimate. Too familiar. Too sickening to contemplate. Her hand pressed over her mouth, trying to keep the sobs inside.

  “Do not touch me.” She raised her head to glare at the man half-concealed by the darkness with more courage than she truly felt.

  She could see that he was an enormous man, his bulging outline made visible by the moonlight’s glow through the crack in the thick draperies. His dirty appearance capped off by his pock-marked visage and shaggy hair further proof that he had not been an invited guest at her uncle’s party. However, that did not mean he was not expected. She had witnessed firsthand some of the unsavory company her uncle kept.

  “Keep your distance,” she hissed, “or I warn you, I shall scream.” She took what she hoped would give the impression of an aggressive stance. Looking around, she reached for the only weapon she could find, a tall, silver candlestick perched loftily atop her flamed mahogany dressing table. She heaved a sigh of obvious relief as the heavy weight settled firmly in her hand. She nearly faltered when he grinned, revealing several missing teeth and what remained, were black rotting stubs that looked as if they were in danger of soon following the same path.

  “Ye can make this easy or hard, m’lady,” he said, pushing up his sleeves as he advanced upon her.

  She stepped back. “Surely you do not believe I will make your attack easy for you?” She tried desperately to control the waver in her voice.

  He made a grab to stop her retreat, but her small size made it easier for her to sidestep his advance. She flinched at the curse that he muttered. Her eyes flying closed as spittle flew from his thick lips in a copious spray.

  From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of another sliver of light that appeared behind her. She risked a quick glance over her shoulder towards the light, glimpsing another stranger, albeit, this one dressed elegantly, lounging negligently in the doorway with a smug smile curving his lips. The brute stepped back and crossed his arms over his barrel chest a smug look appearing on his face when he caught sight of the other man.

  “Thank goodness, my lord.” She gasped in relief, her eyes shining with unshed tears at his opportune appearance. She set the heavy candlestick down without thought. “I beg you, help me.” She released a slow breath her muscles relaxing slightly. She had seen this individual at many a Ton party over the Season, but couldn’t recall his name.

  The newly arrived stranger straightened from the door and sauntered arrogantly into the room removing his gloves as he slowly made his way towards her. He smiled, creating small wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and showing even white teeth, then his mouth twisted slightly.

  She regarded him with a slight frown. His arrogant demeanor seemed strange to her and the set of his mouth concerned her. It had turned from friendly to almost cruel in mere seconds. A sense of foreboding settled over her. Icy fingers of fear raked down her spine as her eyes followed his passage deeper into her bedchamber. She
should have found it odd that he hadn’t voiced any concern for her well-being, but based on her uncle’s example, she did not. Nevertheless, she drew in a breath of hope at his timely arrival.

  “My dear girl, how can I be of assistance?” he said in a soft, steady voice. “I do not want to presume, but it sounded as if you were in need of aid.”

  “I fear this man is accosting me.” She was proud of her firm, strong voice as she accused the brute of manhandling her. “He gained entry to my chamber without permission.”

  The elegant man barked a laugh that had her eyes jerking up to meet his. “How vexatious—for you.” His eyes glittered brightly. “This—man is accosting you without the least bit of provocation?”

  She hesitated before answering, “Of course I’ve not provoked this m-m-man,” she stammered fretfully, a tiny frown appearing between her reddish brows. “There was no provocation on my part. He came into my room without permission,” she repeated. A feeling of disquiet kept her frozen in place. “I plead your mercy.” She blinked and frowned up at him, unable to understand his boldness, when suddenly the air in the room changed.

  He smiled at her again before grabbing her unceremoniously by the arm, his grip painfully tight. She was so taken by surprise that at first she could only stare at him, her mouth gaping open. She would have found her mouth flapping open and closed without sound rather humorous under other circumstances. She would have laughed if she had witnessed any other with this same look on their face, but she could only stand there frozen in fear.

  “I beg your pardon, my lady,” he said with the slightest curl to his lips. He pressed closer, his finger running across the edge of her bodice, skating over her exposed flesh and a shudder ran through her, expressing to him she finally understood how grievous her circumstance.

  Finally she was able to make a sound. A little cry escaped. Laughable. A sound so small that even she would have missed it had she not be trying so desperately to force it past her lips.

  “Such a sweet sound.” The gentleman’s eyes were black with desire.

  Her eyes darted back and forth between the two men, gasping, her eyes going glassy with panic, her breathing spiked. “Y-y-you have not come to rescue me, have you?” Confusion colored her voice and she knew it. She wrenched her arm this way and that, but the man held fast. “Let me go, you blackguard,” she cried, trying to mask the tremor in her voice, wishing against all hope that she could come up with a more powerful curse. She did not want him to know how scared she was, but bile rose in her throat along with panic and her breathing grew shallow. The look in his eyes told her he knew and was pleased.

  He slapped her sharply across the face, rocking her back on her heels, her eye felt as if it were about the burst from her skull at the impact. “I like a girl with a little spirit.” His nostrils flared. Lust raged in his eyes. He thrust his hand into the back of her hair fisting it, jerking her head back to expose her vulnerable throat. She stared up at him helplessly before kicking out, but her slippered foot did little to harm his leg beneath the thick leather of his boot and her attempt only managed to make her captor laugh.

  “Fight me, darling.” He leaned in and licked at the pulse that leapt at her throat. “It makes the capture that much sweeter.” His pupils dilated.

  He closed his teeth on the muscle between her shoulder and neck and she blinked back tears, grunting with the unexpected pain. “There is a house full of guests; you cannot possibly b-b-believe that you will get away with attacking me in this manner.” Her voice was a hoarse whisper. She wanted to shrink away from the harshness of his gaze, but his hand gripping her hair left her little choice.

  “He knows.” His jaw was stone; his eyes dark as ice as he tugged on her arm, controlling her by her hair, dragging her towards the large bed in the far corner of her room. Her sanctuary.

  Her eyes widened with those words. She was no longer able to pretend that fear did not flicker in her eyes. “No matter what he thinks of me, my guardian would never agree to this sort of treatment.” She quelled the urge to cry out for help.

  He flicked his gaze over her person in an appreciative manner. He pushed her forward and she took that opportunity to bolt for the door, but her slight frame was no match for his tall, muscular, bulk. He grabbed a fistful of her hair jerking her head back even further. He lowered his head, his teeth biting painfully into the vulnerable hollow of her throat once again.

  She inhaled roughly, her lungs expanded with shaky-hot breaths.

  “I can see your pulse beating faster and faster, my dear.” He bit down again and she cried out in distress.

  “Please,” she sobbed, unable to keep from pleading, her heart thundered painfully behind her ribs. “Please let me go.” The sound of her gown ripping was thunderous to her own ears. “What are you doing?” Her voice little more than a croak. “You can’t…”

  “I can.” Cruelty twisted the handsome man’s face into an ugly mask revealing his true nature. He pushed with such power that she fell backwards; hitting the edge of the mattress with enough force that it drove the breath from her lungs.

  “I will.” A low growl came from his throat. An animalistic sound of appreciation as he yanked her gown to her waist, at the same time shoving his left hand between her clenched thighs.

  Why hadn’t she stayed to listen to Mr. Carson prattle on about his newest wolfhound instead of hiding in her room? Hadn’t she known her uncle’s parties were not of the same ilk as the London balls she had attended during her one and only Season?

  He drew back to look down at her. “Scream,” he said in a raw voice.

  Fine tremors started in her center and worked through her at the low, rough tenor of his voice. True fear.

  He jerked her head back and bit down harder until tears filled her eyes and he said with an impatient growl, “I said scream.”

  She tried to swallow, but her head stretched back was making it difficult, making breathing difficult, choking off her breath. She longed to cry out as fear wrapped itself tightly around her body, but she would not give him the satisfaction of hearing her fear. So she clamped down hard on her bottom lip. The metallic flavor of her blood coated her tongue as her attacker’s long, elegant fingers grasped the fine white satin and ripped her second favorite ball gown with the gold embroidered roses from her shoulders.

  She could feel the hot color flooding her cheeks as he laid her bare to his lust filled eyes. His unchecked ardor exposed her nakedness to his heated gaze and all she could do was squeeze her eyes shut. She concentrated on the warm teardrops that slid from her eyes, down her temple to land in her fashionably coiffured hair held back by the sparkling citrine encrusted band left to her by her mother. Her heart nearly stopped and she tried to slow her breathing, sink into oblivion, and pray.

  Pray that this was all a horrible nightmare and that she would soon wake and find this wasn’t the night her world had irrevocably changed.

  She screamed.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Hark hark the dogs do bark

  The beggars are coming to town

  Some in rags and some in jags

  And one in a velvet gown

  Parker lowered his book, a shiver coursing down his spine as he stopped to listen and heard nary a sound. “It’s eerily quiet in this house.” The halls still faintly echoed with his twin sister’s delightful chatter and joyous laughter. It was odd how he would have wished them to the devil only a few months ago only to long for their innumerable sounds now.

  This observation, delivered with such seriousness, elicited a sharp laugh from his aunt. “Pshaw!”

  “I speak the truth, Aunt.” He spoke from his chair situated opposite the chaise where she chose to recline. “I can barely concentrate on my reading with all the quiet.” He sat sprawled in one of the spindly legged chairs, one arm flung over the back; one of his least favorite chairs in the house. The book he was reading held open on his lap, all but forgotten.

  He couldn’t help but glance around th
e rose colored parlor, stopping when he reached the final portrait commissioned of his mother. He remembered her. He could still hear her laughter echoing down the halls and the impact of her brilliant smile when she turned it on you. It was strange the memories that one kept vivid in the recesses of their minds. There were times when he couldn’t remember what he had done the previous week, or what he had eaten to break his fast that very morning, but he remembered her.

  Yes, strangely quiet. As quickly as the thought seared his mind, he curled his lips in disgust. He was obviously losing his mind.

  “Don’t worry, Parker, dear.” Adele glanced up momentarily from her embroidery, her mild blue eyes tilted at the corners with a hint of a smile. “You’ll likely grow accustomed to the quiet soon enough and then you will wonder how you ever maintained your sanity through all the endless chatter.”

  He grunted noncommittally. Sitting up, he tossed his book on the marble-topped table next to his chair. “Perhaps it is only this chair. It’s deuced uncomfortable.” He wiggled in an attempt to find a more comfortable position. That was all well and good, but he didn’t want to grow accustomed to the quiet. He wanted to hear the raucous laughter of his hoydenish sister, Poppy, or the insistent bits of information Piper felt compelled to relate to anyone and everyone that would listen. Peyton on the other hand—oh, who was he attempting to fool? Peyton was growing into a fine man, sowing his oats, but a fine man, nonetheless. Besides, he put little stock in all the rumors that floated around the Ton in regards to Peyton’s more licentious activities.

  “You mustn’t spend all of your time with me, Parker.” Adele glanced up over the rims of her spectacles. “I will not be hurt if you choose to sit in one of the deep leather chairs in your study to read from time to time.”

  “With Miss Harris at Allingham Park, while Poppy is in the final stages of her confinement, you are all alone,” Parker said. “Perhaps we should hire you a companion?”