Come the Night (The Dangerous Delameres - Book 1) (13 page)

“Show
me, Sunbeam.”

His voice was dark, harsh. Silver felt his need, as wild and ragged as the hunger racing through her own blood.

Dimly she heard the baying of hounds. “Go,” she whispered fiercely, hearing her blood roar, feeling her breath go ragged. He was hard, so strong, where her chin rested against his chest and her hip met his thigh.

“You said you’d miss me, Sunbeam. Prove it.
Now.”
In that moment he was every inch the highwayman who had stolen a hundred women’s hearts. Every inch the practiced, silken lover of Norfolk legend.

“S-scoundrel!” she hissed, caught between fury and a wild yielding.

“Virago.” But the word was a soft caress. A satin promise.

It did curious things to Silver’s chest. She scowled, realizing the infuriating man would not be budged. Desperate, she leaned forward and pushed to her toes. Eyes closed, she touched her lips to his.

Heat engulfed her. She tasted sherry and mint. Dawn wind and the midnight mist that veiled the heath.

Suddenly she yearned for more.

Her fingers rose, testing the warmth of his hair, the breadth of his powerful shoulders. The world outside the warm, perfumed conservatory ceased to exist.

“Damn it, Sunbeam.” The man beside her groaned.
“You
are the thief tonight. You’ve robbed me of reason and set my blood astir.” His callused hands caught her cheeks as he stared down at her, amber eyes burning. “God, but you’re sweet.”

An angry voice came from the lawn below the conservatory. “In there, damn it. And have your pistols ready!”

No more time, Silver thought bleakly. “Go! J-just go!”

“Will you be safe?”

“Safe enough. Far safer than
you.”

He laughed at that, the sound as rich and reckless and dark as the man. In one fluid movement he bent toward the flickering lantern and snuffed the light.

The room was plunged into darkness.

His fingers twisted, deep within her silky hair. He pulled her against him. “So sorry to disagree,
mignonne,
but this —
this
is what a man means by a kiss.”

He caught her hungrily then, heat to her heat, need to her need. Pressing her back against the cool glass pane, he covered her, challenged her, savored her. His tongue to hers, he opened her to his heat and made her heart sing.

Silver moaned, hearing a wild drumming in her blood. Her fingers were clammy and her knees were almost certainly going to give way any second.

It was perfect heaven and utter hell to touch him so.

When his hand curved over her hips and urged her closer, it was grand and fine and fraught with madness, nothing at all like the revulsion she had felt with Millbank.

Around her glass and darkness and perfumed air faded. All she felt was the liquid slide of his mouth against hers and the hardness of his body where he captured her against the conservatory wall.

A vast heat invaded her. She knew a wild urge to give him all that he demanded, again and again, even while she claimed a dark, hot payment from him in return.

For a moment, one ragged moment, his hand found the curve of her breast. She arched against him, moaning softly.

Dimly, she sensed an end — and an infinite beginning. Of things that would take an eternity to understand. Of feelings that could bring joy or torment.

And yet the knowledge left her eager to begin.

But there was no time.

“Try around back!” Lord Carlisle’s voice rang out.

Grim faced, the highwayman pulled away and set her from him. “You test every shred of my control, temptress. A few seconds more and I’d have you half naked and I’d be taking what I want from you. You’d be wild and reckless when I did it too. I’d catch your moans with my lips as I captured you beneath me here on the floor. Do you understand me, Silver? Do you understand your danger now?” he demanded harshly.

She stood breathless in the darkness, heart unsteady, pulse wild, seeing the anger that burned from his eyes.

Reality inched back as the heat of his body began to fade.

She swallowed, her eyes huge. “It is wrong, then? To feel like this? To want you to touch me this way?”

The highwayman cursed darkly. “If you were different, no. If
I
were different, no. But you are fine. Oh, God, so fine. Too fine for me, for the felon that I am. I’d only break your heart, Sunbeam. I’d only take your innocence and your trust and leave them in tiny, shattered pieces. Whether I wished it or not, it would still happen.”

She could tell that he meant what he said. That he believed every dark word. Once again Silver found herself wondering what had made him so hard and hopeless inside. “I’m not afraid. Not of you.”

“You
should
be!” He frowned down at his gloved fingers buried in the glinting strands of her russet hair and then pulled away from her. “I won’t be back. I tried to stay away before and failed, but this time I’ll succeed. There is no future for us. Only pain could come of this.”

She heard him as if from a vast distance. It was on the tip of her tongue to argue, but she didn’t. Not now, with the magistrate and his men so close.

And also because somewhere inside her she knew he was right.

“But if you ever find yourself in real need. Sunbeam, leave a message for me in the great elm by the crossroads. There are other ways, but that is the safest. A single sprig of lavender will summon me. Otherwise…” His voice hardened.

Silver tried to tell herself it was better this way. That their lives were far too different for them to be happy together.

But the words were hollow.

“Godspeed, highwayman,” she whispered, sliding her hand across the hard jaw just visible beneath his mask. She felt his muscles tense at her touch.

Across the shadowed room angry fists pounded at the conservatory door. Heavy boots hammered over the lawn. Silver could already imagine her trampled flowers.

“Godspeed, Sunbeam.” There was harshness and pain in his voice.

She watched him go, hot-cold. Angry-sad. Her eyes burning.

His cape and boots swirled up in a blur of fluid black as he vanished into the night.

“Search the cottage. Spread out and cover the fields!”

Silver stood frozen as the conservatory door crashed open. Arms akimbo, Lord Wesley Carlisle, magistrate of Kingsdon Cross and the northern reaches of Norfolk, stood scowling in the doorway.

Eight armed henchmen stood at his back, lanterns in hand.

Silver summoned up all her St. Clair pride. “What is the meaning of this intrusion, Lord Carlisle?”

“Don’t toy with me, young woman. I’m seeking that cursed highwayman. I’ll catch the felon and see him hanged, so I will. He’s eluded me long enough! Unless you want to hang with him, I’d advise you to answer my questions.”

Sir Charles Millbank appeared a moment later, red faced and panting. “Don’t listen to her, Carlisle. She knows where he is. He was here, all right. Here with
her,
by God!”

The magistrate frowned. “Where did the villain go, Miss St. Clair?”

“You mean the man they call Blackwood?”

“Of course I do!”

No time for pain. No time for wishing things might have been different. She had to give him time to make his way to safely.

Silver brought her hand to her neck and shuddered dramatically. “I don’t care to think of it. It — it was terrible. The man is a beast. No, a demon! His eyes glowed like coals and he seemed to float over the ground rather than walk. Beware, Lord Carlisle. By heavens, beware, for he is accursed!”

Behind the magistrate several men muttered uncomfortably and shifted from leg to leg, uncertain whether to laugh or cross themselves after this frightening narration.

“Balderdash! While she’s there raving, that brute’s getting away.” Millbank stalked to the open window and looked out. “He must have gone out here. She’s just trying to protect him, the liar!”

“Protect a highwayman?” Silver shot the red-faced baronet an innocent look. “Have you been drinking again, Sir Charles?”

“Of course I haven’t been drinking!” her brother-in-law snapped. “And well you know it, woman!”

Silver’s eyes glittered as she caught him in her trap. “But how would I know that? Did I see you earlier this night?”

Millbank cursed, then waved airily. “Not at all. It’s simply that I never drink. Never to excess, at least. And when word came to me that the highwayman had been seen in the area, I did my civic duty and summoned the magistrate.”

The magistrate had no time for crosscurrents that he did not understand. “Enough of this bickering! Damn it, where did Blackwood go?”

Silver gave a hugely dramatic shudder. “He tracked me down by the storage shed and fixed me with that searing gaze. It was as if I looked into the face of a demon, or the face of hell itself. When I swooned, he galloped off to the north.” South, it had been, in truth.

The magistrate’s eyes narrowed. “If you swooned, how did you know which way he went?”

“Oh, I recovered soon enough. When I did, I saw his horse heading toward Kingsdon Cross.”

“Obviously delirious,” the magistrate snapped. “Exactly what I’d expect of a female. Spread out, men. We’ll have to search the fields ourselves.”

“Not me, by God,” Millbank said furiously, pushing across the sill. He dropped to the hard earth with a hail of curses. “You can stand there rolling your eyes, Carlisle, but I’m going this way. The man’s obviously gone in the opposite direction from where she said. And I’m going after him!”

“Blackwood is
mine,
Millbank. Just you remember that!” the magistrate thundered. Lord Carlisle knew well the acclaim he would receive for capturing the notorious Norfolk highwayman and he was not about to be cheated of his triumph.

Sir Charles shrugged and disappeared, muttering angrily. In a moment the others followed, men and hounds storming over the hill into the darkness in search of their prey.

Long after they had left, Silver stood at the window, staring out at the velvet night. Even when the last voice had died and the last lanterns disappeared, she continued to stand, rigid and tense.

As the moon ghosted behind a ragged line of clouds she sighed and wiped something hot and salty from her cheek. Only then did she realize that the highwayman had pressed something into her other hand before he’d left.

It was a small muslin bag. The sort of bag she used to hold her precious lavender seeds. The seeds that she had spilled two nights before on the heath. Irrecoverable. Or so she had believed.

Her breath caught. She felt tenderness overwhelm her. “Be careful, you fool,” she whispered to the night, knowing that he couldn’t hear. But her heart whispered back. It warned her that being careful was the
one
thing Blackwood would never do.

As I look back now, I can see how I was deceived. It all began so innocently, you see. They were friendly enough, honest enough. Even your dear mother liked them and she was usually a fine judge of character.

But not this time.

They were careful to wait for the right moment, of course. And then — just a little favor. Just once. Only a few items tucked in among the seedling crates. I was only too happy to agree.

I never thought of looking to see what those items contained. English honor, after all. A gentleman’s word as his bond.

What a complete and utter fool I was.

By the time I realized what was being hidden among those crates, it was far too late…

As the moon rose higher, a man clambered up the hillside and made his way toward the screening woods to the north. Millbank, the magistrate, and his band had left long ago.

Hidden behind a bank of roses, Luc Delamere made no move to stop the intruder. He had contented himself that Silver’s servant was awake and armed, moving vigilantly from one end of the farm to the other. In addition, Luc had seen a large yellow sheepdog prowling about the fields.

Yes, she would be safe. For
tonight,
at least. Perhaps her enemies had decided to go after easier prey.

If not, he would soon know, for he had ways of finding information as well as the magistrate did. Never mind that they came from different sides of the law.

He watched the lone figure scramble up the hill and disappear into the woods. Luc decided it would be best not to intervene, but simply to follow the man in silence, since he was clearly no more than a hireling sent out to spy.

And so the spy became the spied upon. Luc’s interest, after all, was not in the puppets but the master who was pulling their strings.

~ ~ ~

Though the Green Man was crowded, the private back room was empty. It was there that Sir Charles Millbank hastened, stripping off gloves and coat as he went.

He summoned the innkeeper with an imperious nod. “Is everything prepared?”

“Just as yer lordship wished.”

“Excellent. The others should be arriving any minute. Send someone to see to the woman. She might prove to be … difficult.”

The landlord’s face tightened in a crude approximation of a smile. “Not to worry, m’ lord. Seen to ‘er m’self, I ‘ave.”

Sir Charles scowled. “Nothing too rough, I hope. I want no marks on her, do you understand?”

“Oh, aye. Nothing what’ll be visible. Leastways not by candlelight, I’m thinking.” He gave a cold laugh.

Millbank smiled. “You are efficient as always, Timmons. Very well, send the others in. And tell them the bidding will begin immediately upon their arrival.”

~ ~ ~

Two hours later Sir Charles sat pondering a half-full tankard, his pockets clinking with gold.

The night’s bidding had gone even better than he had expected. The wench had been frightened, all right, but Timmons had done his work well. By tomorrow she would be off to an acquaintance of his in London. There she would be set to work plying the trade she had begun tonight.

A pity the bitch couldn’t be made a virgin twice, Millbank thought, licking his lips at the thought of the gold such a trick would bring.

He was still smiling coldly when a voice came from out of the shadows behind him.

“You are Sir Charles Millbank, I think?” The speaker was a big man, his face the color of fine sandalwood. From his left ear dangled a gold earring. His body was covered in a cloak of black raw silk edged with crimson cord.

Millbank pushed clumsily to his feet. “I might be. Who wants to know?”

The newcomer studied him coldly. “Let us waste no time in preliminaries, Englishman. Sit down so that we may talk.”

“Dammit, who are you? How do you know my name?”

The stranger’s eyes hardened, entirely devoid of color or warmth. “I know because it is my business to know. I know all sorts of things about all sorts of people. You doubt me?”

“I doubt you,” Millbank blustered. “Besides, what gives you the right to—”

The foreigner sighed and studied his steepled fingers. “How tedious. Very well, I shall demonstrate. Right now, Sir Charles, I know that you have accumulated a great many debts to the wrong kinds of people. You are an extravagant man with bills due to be collected by a score of merchants and moneylenders. In addition you have a taste for beautiful women — and a mistress who drains your pockets more with every passing day.” The cold lips curved in a mockery of a smile. “Shall I continue?”

Sir Charles could only stare, his face the color of raw beef liver. “Enough, by God! I don’t know who you bloody are or how you found out about—”

“My name need not concern you, Englishman. As for how I know such things, it is very simple. The answer lies here in my hand.” He pulled a sack from beneath his cloak and tossed it down on the pitted table. “Money will do a great many things. Especially
this
much money.”

Sir Charles watched in amazement as gold coins spilled over the dark wood. “But — but there must be a thousand guineas here!”