Bought for Revenge (22 page)

She was no longer sleepy. It had not been a dream. A feeling of well-being came over her and she shifted restlessly as she remembered what had happened when he had carried her up to the blue bedchamber.

She had fallen into a deep sleep after they had made love so wonderfully and it had been dark when she next woke up. She had felt incredibly safe and comfortable, and as the fog of sleep left her mind she realised why. Lucas was wrapped around her, his naked limbs entwined with hers and his mouth close to her cheek. She shifted around until she could kiss his lips. He stirred.

‘I love you.’ His softly murmured words lifted her soul.

‘I love you, too,’ she whispered and kissed him again, pressing her body against his, exulting in his reaction to her closeness. They made love again, slowly, languorously before sinking back into sleep.

It had still been dark when Lucas next roused her with a kiss. Sleepily she opened her eyes. A single candle burned beside the bed, casting a dim glow over everything. She reached out and tried to wind her arms around Lucas’s neck, but he held her off.

‘Come along, sweetheart, I think you should go back to your own bed before the servants are about.’

‘Why?’ she complained, nuzzling into him. ‘You said yourself they know everything.’

He chuckled. ‘They might
know
what we have been up to, but we have to observe the proprieties.’ He eased her from the bed and wrapped her in his own dressing gown. Walking her to the door, Lucas pressed the candlestick into her hand. ‘Off you go to your own room now, love, and I will see you at breakfast.’

Breakfast! She sat up quickly. Had she missed it? Why had no one woken her? She reached out and rang for Becky, then remembered that she no longer had a maid. The pitcher on the washstand was full of fresh cold water so she quickly washed her face and hands, then opened the linen press. All the clothes she had left behind were there, just as she had left them. She pulled out a fresh gown and was just scrambling into it when there was a scratching at the door.

‘Becky!’

‘Yes, miss.’ The maid came into the room, grinning broadly. ‘Mrs Wicklow sent for me at the crack o’ dawn, said you would be needing me again, only I was not to wake you this morning. But I am right pleased to be back, I can tell you.
Working as a chambermaid at the Lion was not the same thing at all!’

‘And I am glad to have you,’ declared Belle, smiling. ‘Help me into this dress, will you, Becky? But I do not know how I am to do my hair—oh.’ She stopped, staring at the ivory-backed hairbrush and comb on the dressing table.

‘Mrs Wicklow says Mr Havenham brought some of your things with him from Croft Cottage,’ said Becky, following her glance.

‘He was sure that Mr Blackstone would find me, then.’ Belle smiled as she picked up the brush. Of course. Papa had as much faith in Lucas as she.

‘Oh, yes, miss. What an adventure! Mr Stebbing and Rudd had just got back when I arrived, telling everyone about how that wicked Captain Duggan had tried to do away with you and steal Mr Blackstone’s property.’

‘Oh, they must have been up all night. Have they gone to bed now? I would like to talk to them.’

‘Nay, miss, Cook was feeding them ham and eggs in the kitchen when I came upstairs, the master—Mr Blackstone, that is—saying he would see them once he had finished his breakfast.’

Belle waited to hear no more. Having hastily put up her hair she ran down the stairs to the
breakfast parlour, almost skidding to a halt at the door. She must enter with at least the semblance of composure.

Lucas was alone at the table. She hesitated in the doorway, suddenly shy, but his smile was reassuring. He got up to pull out a chair for her, dropping a kiss on her head as she sat down at the table.

‘No regrets about last night?’ He murmured the words in her ear, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders.

She blushed. ‘No, none.’

‘Good. Then I propose we visit the parson later today. What do you say?’

‘I say, yes, if you please. And…’

‘Yes?’

‘May I come with you when you see Rudd and Mr Stebbing? I should like to know how they went on.’

He pressed her shoulder. ‘Of course. I have no secrets from you now, my love.’

When they had finished breakfast he took her to the study where they found George Stebbing and the groom waiting for them. They almost stood to attention when Lucas walked in. Belle noticed that Rudd was sporting a black eye, but he was looking very pleased with himself.

‘All locked up right and tight now, Major,’ said
George cheerfully. ‘Those two boys of Strutt’s was squealing like stuck pigs by the time we got to the lock-up, happy enough to put the blame for everything on Captain Duggan. Sir John sent the constable and a couple of stout fellows to the Boar’s Head immediately to pick up Strutt and the two other lads while we went with him to the Red Lion to, er,
hap-ree-hend
the Captain. Quite a kick-up there was, when we turned up. The Captain quite lost his head, admitted in front of everyone that, having failed to kill you when he burned Morwood all those years ago, he was determined to do so now.’ George chuckled. ‘The Captain didn’t want to come quietly. He put up a fight and tried to make a run for it. In all the confusion that case of his came open and all the papers fell into the fire.’ The old soldier met Lucas’s eye for one pregnant moment. ‘We set ourselves to rescue them, of course.’

‘Aye,’ said Rudd, trying to subdue a grin. ‘Burned to cinders, every one of ’em. Sir John asked what they might be, but the Captain wouldn’t say, and o’ course we had no idea, so then Sir John says that what with the statements from the Strutts and the Captain’s confession, made in front of a dozen witnesses, he didn’t want to be bothered with any more bits of paper.’

‘Very wise of him,’ said Lucas gravely. ‘We will let the law deal with my cousin now.’

‘Aye, sir.’ Stebbing smothered a yawn. ‘Now, if you would excuse us, Major, me and Rudd will be off. After we’d helped Sir John put the Captain in the lock-up with his cronies we had to go back to the Boar’s Head and collect the pack ponies we’d borrowed, so we ain’t been to bed yet.’

‘Of course,’ said Lucas, ‘off you go and get some sleep.’

‘Aye, sir, that we will, although there’s a few things to be done first, like trying to rescue those boots you was wearing yesterday. Fair scratched they are and caked with mud… .’

The old sergeant followed Rudd out of the room, still muttering darkly. Lucas waited until they had shut the door, then he turned to Belle and held out his arms. She walked into them as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

‘Papa was right,’ she said, reaching up to kiss him. ‘It has ended very well.’

‘It is not over yet,’ he warned her. ‘Sir John will want to talk to us and there will be a trial. You will have to give evidence.’

‘I do not mind that if you are with me, Lucas.’

His arms tightened around her. ‘I shall be with you always from now on, my love. Which reminds me, fetch your cloak while I send for my curricle. We will drive into Stanton and find the vicar. There is still time for him to marry us before Christmas.’

Down in the servants’ hall, George Stebbing held one of Lucas’s boots between his knees while he brushed it vigorously with his one hand. He looked up in time to see the curricle speeding away from the house, sending up a shower of gravel as it swung sharply around the drive. He chuckled.

‘Clever man, the Major. Always said so. But not clever enough to avoid the parson’s mousetrap.’

‘And why shouldn’t he want to marry Miss Belle?’ demanded Becky, bridling in defence of her mistress. ‘She’s a fine lady and more than a match for your Major, Mr Stebbing!’

‘Oh, she is that, I grant you,’ he said, chuckling. ‘He chased her as hard as ever he could—but in the end he was the one as got caught. Ah well, ’tis the way of the world, I suppose!’

All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.

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First published in Great Britain 2013
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of Harlequin (UK) Limited.
Harlequin (UK) Limited, Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road,
Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR

© Sarah Mallory 2013

eISBN: 978-1-472-00399-7