Chapter 4

Four

A slight jiggling of the iron door latch brought Alex instantly awake. Cursing himself for not having taken the precaution of turning the lock, he rolled from the narrow mattress and landed lightly on his toes. Though weak, his legs at least felt steady, and his mind was no longer fuzzed with fever and pain killers. The pale moonlight showed the blade of a knife probing, testing to see if any latch was fastened on the inside. Then the sliver of steel disappeared and the hinges gave a tiny creak as a cloaked figure slipped into the room.

Alex made a lunge at the outstretched hand that held the knife, hoping to use the element of surprise to make up for his diminished strength. The weapon did indeed go clattering across the planked floor, but intruder shook off his hand as if it were no more bothersome than a small terrier.

“Ah, Major Fenimore,” came a low voice, muffled by several layers of a dark scarf. ”Or should I say, Major Lord Woodbridge. You are proving to be a difficult fellow to shove into the grave.”

“I have always disliked being bullied, especially by craven cowards. My father might have told you that had he not floated himself across the River Styx on a bottle of brandy. But perhaps you may follow and ask him yourself—you and your cohort who is now serving as sustenance for the crabs off the Isle of Arran.”

What might have been a laugh sounded from within the cloth. “You may find me a bit more adept than poor Horton. You saved me a bullet, getting rid of the incompetent fool. But now I intend to finish the job he was paid to do.” He dropped into a fighter’s crouch, feinting, left, then right, in an attempt to force the earl to retreat a step or two. There was little space to maneuver in the cramped room, and Alex knew he could not afford to be cornered, for with his injury he would be no match for other man in hand to hand combat. No, he would have to use guile to fight his way out of this.

His gaze swept the room. The knife was too far away. But if he could edge toward the door, he might be able to escape down the stairs and elude any pursuit. A stoneware pitcher on the small table by his bedside was the last thing his eyes came to. He grabbed it up and in one motion flung at the intruder’s midriff. It doubled him over for an instant, just long enough for Alex to make a lunge for the opening. However the man was quick enough to recover and lash out with a booted foot. The blow caught him hard on the side of the knee just as he reached the half open door, knocking him to the floor. By rolling to one side, Alex managed to avoid another nasty kick, then regained his feet, though now he was farther than before from any means of escape..

In India he had learned a number of tricks for self defense that depended on technique rather than strength. When his assailant came at him, the earl managed to take hold of the man’s elbow, and in a blur of spinning limbs, flung him against the iron bedstead. There was a growl of pain, a muttered oath and then the intruder came at him again, this time a bit more cautiously.

“Oh! I—I thought you might be having a nightmare.” Aurora was framed in the doorway, her wrapper pulled tightly round her willowy form, a thick plait of hair hanging down over one shoulder.

Another low laugh. “It appears your reputation with the ladies is not unfounded. I see you have wasted no time in finding someone to … minister to your needs.”

“Nice little piece, isn’t she?” Alex showed his teeth, hoping they wouldn’t be knocked down his throat by the newest entrant in the fray. “Now sweeting, go back to your room. I don’t have need of you just yet. But when you return, bring your friend, why don’t you. She’s got some flint to her, despite her rather long nose.” He didn’t dare take his eyes from his adversary, but he hoped the message was clear enough. The young lady had shown no lack of wits up to this point.

There was the barest of a pauses. “Whatever you wish, sir. After all, you are the one paying for everything.”

He certainly was, he thought, rubbing at his wounded shoulder. A pound of flesh had already been extracted, aside from the guineas that had been spent. The Lord only knew what price he would have to pay for implying she was a doxie, on top of having accused her of being a traitor and a spy.

“You’re right—you won’t have need of her where you are going,” said his assailant with a low laugh. “But I might fancy a tumble when I’m finished with you. Her driver informs me the chit is a long way from home, and quite alone now that her companion has stayed behind with a relative. No doubt she could use a protector to fend off any unwanted attentions.”

Damnation. Alex swore to himself. It was his fault the young lady had been dragged into this dangerous affair. Now he would have to make sure that not only her reputation but her person emerged unscathed.

A moment later, she reappeared, the long snout of the pistol silhouetted against the white of her wrapper. “I take you wish to caress my friend Manton first, sir?”

Alex couldn’t help but grin. “Hand her over—but I owe you a kiss, sweeting.”

The sound of breaking glass shattered the stillness. One more kick cleared the shards and splinters enough for the cloaked figure to slip through the broken window and drop to the ground below. By the time Alex reached the sill, the dark shape had already crossed the yard and disappeared into the copse of trees.

He turned back, ready to be roundly castigated for his ungentlemanly words. Recalling her earlier outrage at having her patriotism called into question, he winced to think of how she might react to such an insult to her virtue.

A giggle was, therefore, not what he expected. Yet a giggle was all such a burbling sound could properly be called. Hand over her mouth, she sought to stifle the worst of it.

One of his brows arched in question.

“S-sorry. It’s just that—” Another whoop cut off her words for a moment. “—that you look very funny, with your great, hairy legs sticking out of that ridiculous sack of a nightshirt.”

Alex looked down. The garment barely reached his knees and was wider that the topsail of a thirty-gun frigate. With the breeze coming in from the smashed window, it threatened to sail even higher. He had to suppress a laugh of his own, though in truth, he was beginning to tire of appearing a bumbling nodcock in her eyes. First, she had sneered at his intelligence. And now? It was a new—and unsettling—feeling to have a female reduced to giggles at the sight of him in a bedroom.

He had better start showing to better advantage, he decided, else the next thing she was going to start questioning was his manhood.

Which was soon going to be on full display if he didn’t don his breeches in short order.

In two strides he was by her side, hand clamped around her arm. “You may laugh all you like, but later. Right now you have three minutes to dress and gather your things.” Propelling her out the door, he added, ”After that, whether you are clad or unclad, we are leaving.”

“But—”

“No arguments!” It was the tone he used with new recruits, the one that caused knees to quake and nervous fingers to check that every button was done up. “You are only wasting your seconds.” His head ducked close to her ear, and the tantalizing scent of lavender clinging to the sinuous braid falling across her breast. Somehow, he couldn’t resist murmuring, “I should prefer the latter, but it is up to you.”

The spark of molten fire that flashed in her eyes was no surprise. But the fact that her jaw clamped shut and she did as she was told was a small miracle. Perhaps he was making some headway, despite his great, hairy legs.

Funny, other ladies had found his long legs particularly attractive.

Following his own orders, Alex grabbed up his clothes from the chair in the corner, noticing that not only were his breeches freshly laundered but somehow she had managed to procure a new shirt, unsullied by blood or bullet holes. The jacket had also been replaced with one that did not smell as if it had been doused with a keg of ale.

Lud, was there nothing the young lady could not accomplish with frightening efficiency?

Certainly her speed in dressing could not be faulted. Just as his knuckles were about to rap on her door, she appeared—fully clothed, he noted with a twinge of regret—and with her small valise done up and by her side. Oh, a few buttons had been missed, and the high collar of her gown was slightly askew, but other than that, she looked eminently presentable. Too presentable. Behind her, in the shadows of her tiny chamber, the bed was a rumple of sheets and he found himself wanting nothing so much as to lay her down upon their languorous folds and bestow the promised kiss. And then another and another, until she was not laughing at his legs anymore but gasping his name in sweet moans as he drank in the honeyed taste of her mouth …

“I thought we were in a hurry,” she snapped.

His eyes jerked up from where they had been fastened on the swell of her bosom and hint of nipple showing through the dark muslin. “Right,” he rasped, his throat unaccountably dry. Taking hold of her bag in one hand and her arm in the other, he hurried their steps down the stairs and to the front door.

“The window …” she began.

He tossed a coin on the floor. “That should cover it, seeing as they have no doubt charged a King’s ransom for everything else.”

Outside the first light of dawn was just beginning to seep above the grey horizon. “I don’t think Ranley is going to be happy with being rousted at this hour?—”

Again, Alex cut her short. “You may leave that to me. I shall manage to convince him that it’s time to be off,” he replied softly.

She stared at him queerly for a moment, then merely nodded and followed along to the stable without further comment. In a matter of minutes, the driver stumbled out of the tack room, shirttails still hanging down, bits of straw clinging to his matted locks, and began shaking out the traces with more alacrity than he has shown during the entire trip. The horses were also led out and harnessed without delay.

“Come, in you go.” Alex assisted her up, letting his hand linger on her arm for a fraction longer than necessary. He climbed in as well and rapped on the trap for them to be off.

It was chilly inside, a cold made rawer by the threat of rain that glowered down from the scudding clouds. Aurora shivered as she leaned back against the damp leather of the squabs, for the light pelisse over her muslin gown added little warmth.

Alex couldn’t help but note the slight tremor out of the corner of his eye, just as he noted that she bore her discomfort without complaint. He took the bundle that had been under his arm and shook it out. The blanket was hardly luxurious, but its scratchy wool would add some measure of warmth.

“I imagine we paid for it several times over,” he murmured, leaning close to tuck it around her shoulders. “So your conscience, as well as your limbs, may rest easy.”

Her eyes flew up with a start. Surprise rippled their emerald depths, along with a current of some other emotion he couldn’t quite fathom. “T-thank you,” she whispered.

The dark smudges under her eyes and the fine lines of strain pulling at the corners of her lovely mouth were unmistakable at such close distance. A wave of guilt washed over him. She had shown such grit and courage, he had forgotten how young and inexperienced she truly was. The string of silent curses he heaped upon himself was rather lengthy as he brushed an errant wisp from her cheek. “Tired?”

“Mmmm. Just a little.” Her lids were already half closed.

“Get some sleep. It will be at least an hour before we stop.”

Her chin had already fallen forward onto the top of the blanket. In repose, the profile softened from that of warrior queen to one more resembling a simple young country miss, untested in the sort of battle he had dragged her into. Ignoring the pain in his shoulder, Alex pulled her closer, so that her cheek came to rest on his chest.

He couldn’t resist taking a lock of her hair between his thumb and forefinger, marveling at how even the dim light picked out highlights ranging from rosy blond to deep cinnamon. The colors reminded him of curry. A dish not to everyone’s taste, but for those who could stand up to its heat, its spice, its subtle complexities, it made all others seem rather bland.

“Mmmpph.” She snuggled even closer, the soft zephyr of her breathing blowing warm through the folds of his shirt and feathering against his bare skin. Another gurgled sigh and she curled her legs up against his thigh.

She may need his heat, but if she kept touching him like that he was soon going to have to stop the carriage! A good dousing in the heavy rain that had begun pelting down upon the roof might just serve to dampen the rather ungentlemanly thoughts that were startling to flare up in his head.

But it was truly a singular sensation, he thought, not knowing whether to gnash his teeth in frustration or chuckle in bemusement. He had never before reacted to a woman in quite this way. Oh, to be sure, he ached to undress her, to explore every tantalizing curve until not one of her marvelous secrets was left unbared to him.

Yet his urges went beyond mere pleasure. He found himself wanting to keep her enfolded in his arms, safe from the perils of the stormy world outside. His jaw tightened at recalling the cloaked intruder’s casual crudeness. The thought of anyone else touching her lit a different sort of spark in his innards—the desire to commit murder with his bare hands.

Heaving a harried sigh, Alex slowly shook his head. Where the devil was such romantic nonsense coming from?

Any tender sentiments had long ago been beaten out of him. That was for sure. After all, he had discovered quite early that it was pointless to look for love or support from any of those around him. So he had learned to be harder than his father’s fists, more resilient than a birch rod and tougher than a leather strap. Instead of knuckling under, like his older brothers, he had been stubbornly determined to survive on his own terms.

He had done it, but at a cost. For while he expected nothing from anyone, in turn he had nothing to give. Perhaps that cold detachment was what made him such an effective soldier.

And such a rotten husband.

But that was a subject he had, over the years, taken great pains never to dwell on.

Feelings made one vulnerable. And being vulnerable was the one thing he feared, above all else. The thought of exposing life and limb to any threat, even death, caused not a blink of an eye. The thought of exposing his heart …

With another shake of his head, Alex leaned back and closed his eyes, determined to marshal his wayward musings back into orderly ranks. He had started this whole mission badly, having made a number of silly mistakes that even the rawest recruit would have avoided. Lord, perhaps the general was right and he was getting too old, his edge too dull, if he found himself lowering his defenses for a managing country miss who had tumbled into his life by mere happenstance.

It was time to regroup. Time to reinforce the barricades around what was left of his tattered soul. That he would never surrender.

“Mmmph.” Aurora shifted slightly. The pillow seemed to have a life of its own, for it moved, too. When she tried to knead out the lumps out, it spoke as well.

“Easy, sweeting, I’ve taken enough punishment these last few days without you adding to the various bruises.”

She blinked her eyes open, only to find her cheek was up against the crook of his shoulder, her hands splayed in intimate abandon across his chest. “Oh!” Her body would have shot upright had his arms allowed such freedom.

“Nay, sleep a bit longer. I’m sure you could use the rest.”

“But—” Her mouth was parted in protest when his lips come down on hers. For a moment too she was too overwhelmed to think of struggling. Though she had tried on more than one occasion to imagine what a man’s kiss might feel like, no unschooled fantasy had quite prepared her for the visceral reality of it.

His mouth was firm, yet pliant, the rasp of his unshaven cheek on her skin only serving to counterpoint the silky glide of his lips over hers. But it was the things his tongue was doing that had her feeling as if the carriage had suddenly veered off the beaten path and plunged over a precipice. She reeled as it entered her mouth, plundering her senses with reckless abandon. He tasted of sea salt and foaming waves and she found herself wanted to drown in the current he was creating inside her. Robbed of breath, she felt the vortex pulling her under.

And the strange thing was, she didn’t seem to mind.

It took a second or to for her to shake off the odd torpor and realize that he had set her back against the squabs.

She slowly sucked in a lungful of air. “I-I should slap you for such impertinence.”

His sapphire eyes glinted with humor. “Surely your sense of honor wouldn’t let you strike a helpless invalid.”

“Helpless—ha!” she muttered. “You appear to be quite recovered, sir, judging by the way you tossed your attacker through the air as if he were no more substantial than a sack of potatoes.” She gave a slight tug to her bodice on noticing the disarray. On second thought, she decided she would much rather discuss what had happened back at the inn rather than the more recent grapplings. “Er, just how did you accomplish such a feat?”

He looked amused by her attempt to change the subject. “Mayhap I am not quite as bumbling as you think, sweeting.” His lips came a bit closer. “And mayhap I’ll take another kiss, since I have just given the one I promised.”

Aurora shrank back, the pull of self-preservation winning out over the desire to throw herself back into the maelstrom. “Yes—it is my experience that most men simply take what they want. By force if necessary!”

The grin disappeared as he regarded her intently, and the laughing blue of his eyes clouding to a deeper hue. Then his shoulders settled back against the worn leather of the seat. “It’s clear you have not been kissed with great regularity?—”

“Hmmph!” She squared her shoulders. “I’ll have you know I—I am a married woman!”

She was gratified to see that her announcement caused a pinch of surprise to spasm across his features. It was gone in an instant, replaced by what might looked to be a rakish smirk. “What kind of husband allows his wife to gallivant across the length of Britain, without so much as a single servant to look after her reputation?” In a softer voice he added, “Or her virtue.”

“The kind who isn’t around to give a damn!” she snapped. “And if he was, I’d not let some arrogant, jugbitten male dictate what I can and cannot do, simply by virtue of his … plumbing rather than his brains!”

After the bark of laughter had died away, his face took on a serious mien. “A drunk, is he? Did he leave you? Or did you decide?—”

“I don’t wish to discuss my husband, sir! Not with you, not with anyone!” Aurora hoped her voice didn’t sound quite so brittle to his ears as it did to her own. “The particulars of my personal life are none of your concern.” She took a deep breath to steady her tone. “Besides, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

Save for the creak of the joints and the rattle of the wheels, an awkward silence filled the carriage. Her mood was not improved by the discovery that two buttons on the front of her dress were undone, showing a good deal more of her undergarment than she had realized. Muttering a word more appropriate coming from the mouth of a grizzled soldier than a young lady, she fumbled with the fastenings.

“You are quite right,” he replied after some moments, a nonchalant shrug punctuating how little care he had for the matter. “Let us agree that neither of us has any call to pester the other with prying questions.”

“Yes, let us,” she said stiffly. Though, she added to herself, he could have been a bit more gallant about the whole thing.

“There is, however, just one further question that I wish to make.”

Aurora eyed him warily. “Which is?”

“Your name, madam.”

“Oh!” She bit at her lip. “I suppose that makes some practical sense. It is Mrs. Sprague. Aurora Sprague.”

“Aurora Sprague,” he repeated slowly.

Funny, on his tongue it sounded alluringly exotic, like a warm tropical rain blowing through palm fronds, rather than just a gargled mouthful of hot soup. It made her feel, well, it made her feel a bit heated all over. To hide the flush of color rising to her cheeks, she turned to stare out the window. “And yours, sir?

“Wood … more. Major Alex Woodmore.”

Of all the cursed luck! Another scarlet coat to plague her dreams. “Well, Major, now that you have recovered sufficient strength to, er, fend for yourself, I imagine you will want to get back to ferreting out your spy. That is, assuming you are still convinced it isn’t me.” She gave a twitch to the blanket. “Is there a specific rendezvous point where we may drop you, or will the nearest place where you may procure a horse do?”

“I’m afraid things are not going to prove quite so simple, Mrs. Sprague. Unlike a cocklebur caught on your hem, I am not going to be quite so easy to brush off.”

Aurora started. “W-what do you mean, sir?”

“I take it you are aware that last night’s visitor was not making a social call.”

“Hmmph!” She interrupted him with a loud snort, then fixed him with a scathing glare. How dare the insufferable man speak to her in such a condescending manner! Why, if it hadn’t been for her quick thinking and common sense his carcass might well be moldering somewhere out on the moors. “Oh, you mean to tell me he wasn’t a friend of yours?” she replied sarcastically. “Good gracious, I should never have figured it out on my own.”

His lips twitched. “Don’t fly up in the boughs. I was not implying any lack of intelligence on your part. Rather, what I was going to add was that our nocturnal visitor knew far more about our … identities that we might wish.”

“What of it?” she muttered.

“Come now, Mrs. Sprague, I expect you to be quicker than that. What I am saying is, it appears he knows both who you are and where you are headed.”

“So? I am no threat to him. I know nothing.”

“He is not likely to believe that. No, until I can be sure of your safety, you are not going anywhere on your own. I have a place where you can stay hidden out of trouble until I have dealt with this matter.”

Aurora put on her most intimidating scowl, the one she saved for when the local rector was spouting some particularly irritating homily on the duties of females. “Since I don’t recall ever having taken the King’s shilling, I don’t consider myself under your command, Major Woodmore. Furthermore, I am not used to any man giving me orders, so I suggest you get ready to dismount at the next stop. I am going on to the border.”

As a finishing flourish, she folded her arms across her chest and allowed her jaw a defiant little tilt. That, she thought with a sniff of satisfaction, should wipe the arrogant expression off the overbearing officer’s face.

It did nothing of the kind. If anything, the man’s lips took on a more pronounced curve upward. “Yes, it’s quite clear you are used to doing whatever you wish, regardless of the risks involved,” he murmured. “Your husband should be flogged for dereliction of duty, but it seems someone needs to take you in hand.” In a louder voice, he sought to explain his decision. “This is for your own good?—”

Aurora’s reticule hit the other side of the cab with a resounding bang, and what appeared to be the sound of breaking glass. “I cannot stand it when men say that!” Her mouth was quivering with fury. “Of all the patronizing drivel! What you really means is that it suits your needs. And since you cannot marshal any sort of rational argument, you resort to platitudes to excuse your tyranny.” Playing what she considered to be her trump card, she demanded, “Give me one good reason to do as you say!”

The challenge didn’t even provoke the slightest bit of hesitation. “One? Well, odds are quite good that he will have you followed and abducted.” He paused. “Oh, but why stop with just one, when the possibilities are so tantalizing? Once in his clutches, he will subject you to a variety of unpleasant tortures to learn if you are telling the truth. Then, most certainly, he shall kill you.” Alex then leaned back and laced his hands behind his head. “Oh, did I leave out the part about forcing himself on you? As I recall, he did mention he fancied a tumble with you.”

Aurora swallowed hard. It was galling enough that his logic was unassailable, but did the dratted man really have to look so smug about it?

“The carriage must be returned to its owner,” she grumbled after some moments. “And Robbie will be worried about me.”

“I had already planned to send the driver on, since we need a more inconspicuous means of travel. He can deliver a note to your friend.”

Aurora refused to look him in the eye. “So, you truly mean to hold me prisoner?”

“I shall try to refrain from using whips and chains.”

She swore she could detect a note of laughter in his voice, and it goaded her to further retort. “If you try to force me into another kiss, I vow I shall not submit without a real fight.”

He smiled, a twinkle lighting the sapphire depths of his eyes.” I consider myself forewarned, Mrs. Sprague. But no matter what you think, I am not completely lacking in honor. The next time I kiss you, it will be because you have asked me to.”

“Ha!” Aurora made a point of turning her back on him and sidling as far into the opposite corner as possible without actually hanging out of the window. “And pigs may fly!”

Alex regarded the rigid set of her shoulders and nearly chuckled aloud. He could almost feel a twinge of sympathy for the man who had taken her to wife, for undoubtedly the poor fellow had gotten way more than he had bargained for. But then the humor slowly faded from his lips. He hadn’t missed the blink of hurt in the young lady’s eyes when she had spoken of her wayward spouse, though she had taken great pains to disguise such feelings.

Shifting against the squabs, he found that his booted foot itched to come into contact with the fellow’s posterior for bringing such an expression to her face. It might be true that he had never encountered such stubborn willfulness or feisty spirit in a female. And yet, he admitted after giving pause for thought, never had he met with such gritty courage or quick wits.

A man would have to be a bloody fool not to recognize what a rare?—

He was the bloody fool, he chastised himself. And it was his own tail that deserved a swift kick for letting his thoughts stray back to such sentimental claptrap. This was no Arthurian epic and he was hardly her knight in shining armor. Not with his own tarnished past.

A harsh rasp escaped his lips. He should be breathing a sigh of relief at having discovered she was a married woman, not one of regret. Innocent young misses, with their flighty romantic notions and impossible expectations, had never held any attraction for him. A practiced courtesan or bored wife—that was the sort of jaded partner he preferred for dalliance. One who expected only his body, not his soul, and was satisfied with the pleasure he gave in the bedchamber.

For that was all he had to give.

Instead of having to worry about protecting the intriguing Mrs. Sprague, he could, in good conscience, attempt a seduction. She was fair game. She knew the rules. Indeed, she appeared to flaunt them.

And yet, somehow the notion didn’t sit quite right. It was hard to catch a glimpse of, but at her core there was an innocence that belied the cynicism which she chose to wrap around her, like an ill-fitting cloak. There was a mystery to her, and to the reason of why a man would abandon such unique beauty and spirit?

Why, if he had a chance to start over, he might consider?—

No. He would not allow himself to think in that way. Ever the pragmatic soldier, he knew it was bad strategy to spend time pining over past mistakes. Better to get ready for the next battle.

His eyes strayed back to the mass of curls glinting with fiery highlights. And no doubt it would come sooner than later.