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wrapped around her torso, and more of it bound her ankles to the chair legs. A crude table had been pulled up beside her. There were tools still lying on it.
    A hammer.
    A saw.
    A knife.
    “Callie!” He dropped to his knees on the floor in front of her. He moved to reach for her, but pulled to a frantic stop, arms hovering in the air between them. He didn’t know what to do first, what to check first. There was blood everywhere . On the floor all around her, seeping through the knees of his pants. It covered every inch of her nightdress like the cloth had been dipped in a vat of dye. It was all over her face, her hands…
    Oh God, her hand.
    “Callie,” he moaned. “Oh no. Oh please, no. What did they do to you?”
    Her head hung lifelessly, chin touching her chest. Some of her dark hair fell in wet ropes over her face, while the rest had been caught beneath the twisted strip of cotton tied over her mouth and around her head as a gag. He pushed the strands gently aside and groaned at the sight of the blood running from her eye. It stained her cheeks and ran down her face in thick trails that had been stopped by the gag, which was no longer white.
    He could see that the blood seeping through her nightdress came from a wound in her side, and her legs were sticky with wide dark streaks.
    She’d been tortured. Brutally. Thoroughly.
    He knew right away this was no chance attack by thieves. Colonel Wyndham had been tortured like this too. His broken, lifeless body was found after animals had scavenged it from a shallow grave on the southern edge of his own property. Apparently, the colonel had recently been suckered into the spy game after resigning from more active duty. He’d just returned home from a mission and hadn’t even had the opportunity to report in to the War Office before the bastards got him.
    The Ministry had wanted Jasper to find out what was going on. Find out how their operatives’ identities were being leaked to the French, and he’d been sent over the border to meet with the contact. Leaving his family vulnerable in a way he’d never even considered. But should have.
    He glanced up at the table. The “tools” were black with thick, half-dried blood. By all accounts Callie should be dead, but she wasn’t. Thank God, she was still alive. Just barely by the looks of it, but she stirred when he touched her face and ran his hands lightly down her arms. Her lips cracked open on a whispered hiss of pain.
    “Malcolm!” he shouted over his shoulder.
    A moment later, the other man burst through the open door, but came to a sudden stop just inside. “Oh no,” he whispered.
    Jasper’s gaze remained fixed on her. He couldn’t see anything else. “Give me your knife. I need to cut the ropes.” He refused to touch the knife that had been left behind.
    “Let me do it.”
    “Just give me your knife and then get out of here.” In the back of his mind he knew he wasn’t being rational, but the only thing he could think of was that he didn’t want anyone else seeing her like this.
    “Let me do it, Colonel,” Malcolm repeated. “Those ropes are the only thing keeping her upright and she’s going to need someone to hold her once the bonds are cut away.”
    He groaned. “All right. Just—God, be careful. And don’t…touch her.”
    Malcolm came forward and stepped around the chair. He cut the bonds at her ankles first, and then moved to the rope wrapped around her waist and chest. Jasper got to his feet and grasped her shoulders gently until she was free and he was finally able to pull her into his arms, being extra careful of her broken legs.
    She whimpered. “Shh, Callie,” he whispered against her hair. “You’re safe now. I’m here. I’ll take care of you.” She jerked against him as if shying away. Only semi-conscious, she reacted instinctively out of the memory of fear and pain. He didn’t want her to wake completely. Not here. Not like this. But he hoped his voice would reach her and