In Bed with the Earl (Lost Lords of London #1) - Christi Caldwell Page 0,1
me go,” Percy whispered. And when the ugly stranger tightened his hold, Percy used all the energy he had to fight. “I said let me go.”
Except they weren’t impressed. They merely laughed.
Anger shot through Percy. “Stop laughing at me,” he yelled, and they only roared all the more. “Do you know who I am?”
At last they stopped laughing, and then Percy wished they hadn’t, because they’d gone all quiet. And the quiet was scarier than when they’d yelled. “Oh, yeah, Oi know.”
He did? Percy’s heart jumped. They knew him. Which meant they’d free him. Because they couldn’t hurt an earl’s son. No one did.
“Ya’re the fuckin’ king of England.”
Both men exchanged a look, and then—
“Bwahahaha!” The bear of a man bent over and clutched his side.
They were . . . laughing at him. None had ever dared laugh at Percy’s father. But these men, these ugly, stupid, dirty strangers, would make fun of Percy . . .
All the rage and pain and heartache he’d felt snapped him. “I said stop laughing at me,” he cried, and with all the energy he could manage, he rushed at the pair of brutes.
One of the men easily caught Percy by the thin shirt he’d been given, lifting him by its front and raising him so that they were at eye level. He stared at Percy for a long time. Close as they were, the smell of the other man burnt Percy’s nose and stung his eyes—putrid, like the sick that he’d thrown up.
“Put me down. I demand it.” Percy had never heard his papa be mean to anyone, but he had heard him use big words and make demands, and people always listened.
“Ya hear that, Sparky? The bloody king demands it.”
Sparky . . . What a silly name for a man who looked like a bear.
Sparky’s buglike eyes went wide. “Oi ’eard ’im, Penge.”
And then the pair of strangers burst out laughing.
Percy cried out as Penge set him down so hard his knees buckled and he hit the ground again.
The tooth slipped free of his hand, and, his cheek pressed to the wet stones, Percy stretched his fingers, reaching for it.
“Boy’s mad,” the bear—Sparky—was saying. “Ain’t of any use to anyone. And certainly ain’t going to be of any use to ’im.”
Him? Who is “him”?
And Percy quite decided then that he didn’t want to be of use to anyone who knew these men.
“We already paid coin for the little shite. Another mad king we ’ave here in England. Let’s go, Yar Majesty. Ya’ve subjects to meet.”
And as the two men dragged him off, all his bravery faded. Tears fell once more, staining his cheeks. “I want to go home,” he begged. “Please.” Even if Mama and Papa weren’t there . . . he wanted to go where it was safe and warm, and where people were kind.
Penge cuffed him on the back of his head so hard that stars danced behind Percy’s eyes. “Didn’t ya know, King?”
“Kn-know what?” he whispered, his voice trembling from both pain and fear.
Sparky flashed a toothless grin, cold, empty, and missing all warmth. “This is yar home now, Yar Majesty. King of the sewers. Get used to it.”
Another surge of energy burst through Percy, and he didn’t care that he’d been sick. Or that his stomach turned like he was going to throw up. “This isn’t my home. Do you hear me? This will never be my home!” He kicked and twisted and fought the mean men. “Someone will save me.” Only . . . Percy sobbed. Who would save him? There was no Mama or Papa anymore.
Penge slapped him across the face, rattling his teeth. “Get the bag,” he ordered Sparky.
And this time, as the scratchy fabric was brought over his head and Percy was shoved inside and flung over one of the strangers’ shoulders, he closed his eyes, grateful when the darkness crept in.
“No one is comin’ for ya. Ya ’ear me? Ain’t no one lookin’ for an orphan.”
That cruel threat echoed, coming as if from a distance, far, far away.
Someone was coming. They had to be . . .
He tried to speak the words aloud but couldn’t make his mouth move. Or make a sound.
Someone was . . .
Percy closed his eyes and remembered no more.
Chapter 1
THE LONDONER
MYSTERY!
All of London is in search of the gentleman who’s been robbed of his title by treacherous relatives. The new Earl of Maxwell remains a mystery to all . . . There is only one certainty: the Lost