Chapter 8
Three days passed. Boyd spending each day about the town, trolling the harbor, and each night with Annie pressed to his side. The sleeping arrangement was a form of sweet torture. He looked forward to the nights, he woke up frustrated in the mornings, and then commenced prowling about Dover once again.
Another day spent uselessly watching for his friend, without a sign of Fulton. The harbor had cleared, but the ship captain still hadn't arrived. Frustrated on so many levels, he stomped into the cottage.
Annie had a fish stew on the stove, Mr. Wiggins already sitting comfortably at the small table finishing a bowl.
At the sight of Boyd, he rose, tipping his hat, and leaving the kitchen without a word.
"You scared Mr. Wiggins away," Annie called over her shoulder as she stirred the pot with a wooden ladle before spooning out a bowl for Boyd and herself.
"One more day, and we'll start the journey north on our own," he said, knowing that he'd not really addressed her words. Annie set his bowl down and hers, then turned for two spoons.
"To Scotland?"
"That's right." He sat down, the delicate smell of the stew calming some of his irritation. Damn, but she was a good cook. How had she managed it with so few supplies? She joined him, picking up her spoon.
"Good." She nodded with a smile. "I'd much rather see a loch than a vineyard anyway."
Boyd, who'd begun shoveling the food into his mouth, paused, some of his bad mood evaporating at the idea of standing next to Annie at the shore of the loch. How had he not realized that he wanted her to see his home? That he wished to be the man to show her its splendor? "Ye're going to love it, especially in the spring when the wildflowers bloom."
"I can't wait."
He grimaced. "If yer uncle connects me to ye, he might come looking in Scotland."
She turned to him then, the fear evident in her wide eyes and her parted lips.
"I know it's frightening…"
She shook her head. "I'm sorry to ask, but I'm not good at thinking ahead like you. If he does seek me out in Scotland, what do I do?"
Her voice trembled with her worry. "Well. Ye could go to Italy, but that location has the same problem. Fulton is well known and not difficult to track."
She hugged herself as she slid into her seat, ignoring her bowl. "I wish…"
"That ye hadn't left?"
She looked at him then. "Not at all. Not only was the end coming for me if I stayed, but then…" She leaned forward, her eyes so wide and green. "I'd never have met you."
He reached for her hand, pulling her back up from the chair, and into his arms. Holding her felt like second nature even after a week, and her arms snaked about his neck.
Their gazes still held, and she pushed up on her toes. "Boyd."
He tightened his grip about her waist, bringing their hips together. "Yes?"
"Can I kiss you?"
For a moment he just stared, his eyes moving to her lush mouth. How he'd longed for that mouth…
And then he answered her question by capturing her lips with his. It wasn't soft or gentle as a first kiss ought to be. But he couldn't hold back now that she'd asked. He'd had days of wanting, touching but not doing any more.
It wasn't his kiss to take, and he wouldn't have done it without her offer, but since she had, he intended to enjoy her gift.
Her fingers threaded into his hair, her body molded to his as their lips met over and over. Boyd didn't think about anything beyond this moment.
He didn't want to consider how much more difficult this might make tonight, or what it meant for the future.
He refused to think of the satisfaction he'd felt at the idea of escorting her to Scotland himself.
He'd been longing for this kiss. And as her mouth opened to his, his tongue sliding along her bottom lip, he felt her shiver that moved through him. Annie had been longing too.
His hand fisted in the back of her shirt, her pelvis flush against his. He'd never been more grateful for the breeches, without the layers of skirts and petticoats, one of her legs wrapped about his waist, his cock nestling right in the natural V of her body.
She rocked against him, rolling into his hips, as his other hand slid down to cup her ass in those breeches.
They both moaned and her mouth opened wider, his tongue sweeping against hers.
The kiss was even more than he'd been imagining it might be, the passion igniting between them quickly turning into an inferno. He was losing the ability to think, to control.
A knock sounded at the back door.
Annie jolted in his arms and started to pull away, but he held her firm. He had no intention of letting her go no matter who was at the door.
"What?" he barked, shifting so his back was between her and the door, hiding her from sight. He didn't want to let her go, but that didn't mean he'd compromise her safety.
But it was Wiggins who answered. "Sir. Look out the window. I think it's Lord Fulton's boat. The Destiny."
Boyd stepped away then, crossing to the small kitchen window. He'd been on Fulton's ship more than once, seen the vessel in harbor many more times, and he'd know the boat anywhere. It was her…
"Mr. Wiggins," he called. "Come back inside and sit with Annie." Then he turned to Annie. "Do I have yer permission to take yer journals?"
He felt her hesitation, saw her slight wince.
"What's wrong?"
She nipped at her lip, her worries shining in her eyes. "They are my insurance that the Smiths, you, Armstrong keep protecting me. I don't have much of a plan, but I've got that."
He nodded, understanding. "Annie, do I seem like the sort of man who's going to abandon ye once I've handed them over?"
She shook her head. "No. You don't."
"Do you trust me?" He placed a finger under her chin, holding her gaze.
She gave a quick nod and then disappeared into the bedroom, returning with the books. "What happens if my uncle finds me in Scotland? I'll have nothing to bargain with."
He held her gaze, his jaw hardening. "We have to get there first, but if Scotland wasn't safe, I would find another way. We'll go somewhere else."
"We?"
He slid his hand up her face until he cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing over her cheekbone. The kiss had changed everything. To be fair, the tension and emotion had been building between them for days. But feeling her attraction, knowing it was shared…Whatever was between them, Annie was his to protect.
So, he pushed out the door and down to the bottom of the bluffs where the beach met the harbor.
Boyd stood in the shadows for well over an hour, watching and waiting. Finally, Fulton came to shore with several of his men and crates full of goods. The rowboat grounded on the shore, two of the men jumping out to pull the small vessel farther onto the beach. Fulton followed, the rest of men filing out behind him.
Relief tugged at Boyd's shoulders as he stepped out from the shadows, approaching the small crew. This would certainly be the quickest way to bring Annie safely north.
Fulton caught his gaze instantly, his own widening in surprise. "Jesus, Lockton. What the fuck are you doing here?"
Several of the men turned to him, a few of their gazes more than curious. Some instinct pulled at his gut to be careful. Meeting with Fulton here and now didn't feel right. "Ye know me. I get bored in one place too long."
"That's not the story Gris told me."
Boyd gave a casual shrug, trying to tell Fulton with his eyes, not to mention any more. "Ye haven't taken me off on an adventure for several months. Thought I'd take one of my own." He emphasized the last word, to give Fulton the message.
"And the girl?"
Boyd didn't want to discuss Annie in front of anyone, not even Fulton's crew, and all at once, he knew he didn't want to board Fulton's ship. "Not with me."
Fulton's eyes narrowed. "What the fuck are you talking about?"
One of the sailors, a short man with piercing blue eyes, looked between himself and Fulton, his attention far more intense than Boyd liked. This man worked for Fulton, Boyd knew that, but he didn't recognize the sailor. He was new, and Boyd didn't trust his shifty behavior. "What took you so long getting into the harbor?"
Fulton's eyes further narrowed, his head cocking to the side. "We were being followed by another boat. One of Makem's."
Boyd cursed himself seven times the fool. He should have stayed hidden. Gone straight for Scotland. Was Makem out there, waiting? He'd been following Fulton for certain. No wonder Boyd didn't feel right. "Where are ye going next?"
Fulton shook his head, his brows pulled together. "North."
"Any of yer ships heading for France?"
"France?" Fulton straightened, his arms lacing over his chest. "What's in France?"
"Wine. French women," Boyd answered, hoping to mislead every man who listened. Even Fulton. The other man might be his friend, but Boyd didn't trust the men around him.
"No. I'm not going to France until after my trip north."
Boyd took a step back, feeling the journals in his pocket. He wouldn't risk giving them to Fulton now.
He wasn't certain how he'd get these books to the Smiths, but he knew it wasn't through Fulton. Not now. He trusted his gut, and this was a mistake. "Safe travels then. I'll be seeing you."
"Lockton. Are you coming back to the club?"
This was one answer he had. "No."
Then he turned, disappearing back into the shadows of the cliffs. He and Annie were leaving. Tonight.
* * *
Annie leaned against Boyd's shoulder, the rocking of the carriage both lulling her and keeping her awake.
She sighed as her eyes fluttered closed. She was going to miss that little cottage, though not the days apart from Boyd. Whenever he was gone, she had this niggle of fear that he'd not return.
At her sigh, Boyd wrapped an arm about her shoulders, pulling her closer. "Try not to worry."
She grimaced, not because she was scared, but because Boyd was concerned that he'd made a mistake, trying to connect with Fulton in Dover. "I'm not worried."
"Yer uncle had a ship just outside the harbor. What if one of his men was on the beach? What if…" he stopped, his arm growing tight about her, "he follows us to Scotland?"
She wrapped her arms about him. "I could go somewhere else."
"We…" he said, scrubbing his forehead.
She stared up at him, the question dancing on her lips. "We? That word again."
"We," he repeated with even more emphasis. "Could go somewhere else. I'd never let ye travel alone with a man like that chasing you."
Her heart rose into her throat a moment before she pressed up, kissing him for the second time in one evening. It was just that she was so…grateful? No, that wasn't the word. She trusted this man with her body. Had it just been days ago she'd been frightened by his touch?
But even more, she trusted him with her safety.
And him telling her he'd not leave her as long as she was in danger. It meant more than she could ever say.
He pulled her into his lap, her legs dangling over one side of his as her arms twined about his neck.
He kissed her over and over, his tongue plundering her mouth, his hands moving up and down her back.
She broke away. "We're driving through the night?"
"That's right."
This bench would be their bed. As if he'd read her thoughts, he lay her across his lap, his chest coming down on top of hers. She sighed into his mouth, knowing that she wanted everything this man had to give.
But in another moment, he lifted his face from hers. "We have a decision to make."
"What is it?"
"We can go north to Scotland and my home. Leave the country. I've always thought it best. But I also thought Fulton would have the journals. We can stop at Upton's along the way. He could be watched, though, like Fulton was. But he could also help us prosecute your uncle. The problem with that is from Dover, we have to pass near London again." He grimaced. "And now yer uncle has the lead on us heading north."
She could hear Boyd's thoughts spinning. She'd never seen him like this. "What do you mean?" Her own gut niggled with worry.
"I thought we'd travel by boat, and we'd beat any man on horse. But between the storm and now the change in travel…"
Annie cocked her head. "You're trying to determine the safest place to go and how fast we can get there."
He gave a quick nod. "We could leave for the Americas but…"
"Americas?"
"I haven't had time to sell my shares in the club and I have no idea how long it would take to receive the funds…"
"You don't want to go to Scotland?"
"Yer uncle might very well have scattered men to every property he knows we own."
She nipped at her lip. "But you'll have family there?"
"Aye."
Still, she could see all his points and her stomach churned. If Boyd was worried, then where should they go and who could help them? She'd dragged him into this and now…
But he didn't say more as he suddenly lifted, looking out the back window. And that's when Annie heard the thundering of hooves.
Boyd muttered several curses as he tipped up the bench and pulled a musket from the storage underneath.
Annie had hardly sat up before Boyd pushed her back down. "Stay down, love, and stay out of sight."
He opened the door, leaning out of the carriage as he levelled the musket.
"Christ, Lockton. Don't shoot!"
Boyd instantly dropped the gun. "Fulton?"
"Yes. Now slow down, would you? I had to ride like the demons of hell were chasing me just to catch you."
"That was the point."
The carriage began to slow, and Annie lifted, hazarding a peek out the back window.
Fulton pulled up his horse, a cape billowing out behind him, slowly coming to rest as he drew his horse behind the carriage.
"He looks like a highwayman," Annie said to Boyd.
"Pirate is my preferred criminal comparison," Fulton chuckled, swinging down from his mount, and coming to the doorway. "Now, Lockton, introduce me to the lovely lady."
Boyd hopped down, blocking the door. "We're losing time. Were you followed?'
"No. Tie my horse to your carriage and I'll explain on the way."
"The way to where?"
"The next port. And you're right. We don't have much time to lose." He pushed past Boyd and settled across from Annie. Even in the dim light, she could see that this man was excessively handsome. "We've got a criminal to outwit. Hurry, Lockton. There is no time to lose."