Harlequin Historical September 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: The Lone Sheriff\The Gentleman Rogue\Never Trust a Rebel (53 page)

‘Your father left you to my care. Once I knew where you had gone I had to come after you.' He stepped closer and held out his handkerchief. ‘Here.'

She wiped her eyes. ‘I thought taking Kitty with me would be sufficient protection.'

‘That shows how little you know about the world. It is full of villains and adventurers.'

‘Such as yourself?'

He stiffened immediately, but felt a wry smile tugging at his mouth. She could not resist challenging him, even now.

‘Such as myself.' As if determined not to look at him, she fumbled again with the ties of her domino. He reached out to her. ‘Let me.'

* * *

Elyse quickly stepped away.

‘No.' If he touched her she would fall to pieces. ‘I—I think I shall keep it on, after all.'

‘Are you cold, shall I rekindle the fire?'

‘Can you do so?' she asked, momentarily diverted.

‘An adventurer has to turn his hand to many things, Miss Salforde.'

‘I suppose he does.' She gave a sigh. ‘But to answer your question, no, I am not cold, not really.'

‘Then what is it?'

‘I deserve that you should give me the most tremendous scold.'

‘You do, but I am not going to scold you any more than I have done already.' He handed her a glass of ratafia. ‘I hope you have learned a valuable lesson.'

‘Oh?'

He went back to the table to pour himself a glass of brandy, saying over his shoulder, ‘That a pretty young lady should never venture into society without someone to look out for her.'

Elyse sipped at the ratafia and its sweet warmth put heart into her. She felt confident enough to dispute this.

‘But they could not know whether I was pretty, for I was hidden beneath the domino and the mask.'

He turned and Elyse tried and failed to meet his glance, her fragile spirit shying away from the disapproval she feared she would see there.

‘Do you think any gentleman of experience would be fooled by such a disguise?' He put down his glass and came closer. ‘To begin with, your hood had slipped back a little to reveal dark curls.' He caught one between his fingers. ‘They are so glossy and luxurious they could only belong to a young woman. Then there is your figure. Since the domino is only fastened by a string at the neck it falls open to show the creamy smooth skin above the lace at your breast—another sign of a woman in high bloom. And your tiny waist is perfectly obvious, too. Then, of course, your neat ankles are displayed to great advantage when you skip through a dance.'

She was listening, spellbound, to this catalogue of evidence and hardly noticed when he stepped closer. He took her chin between his finger and thumb. Her head came up under the gentle pressure of his hand and she was obliged at last to meet his eyes.

‘The mask you wore only enhanced the dainty line of your jaw and those full, cherry-red lips. And as for your eyes, they sparkled so enchantingly through the slits of the mask that I am surprised any man could resist them.'

He was holding her gaze and she saw the look in his eyes change, darken. She was drawn deeper into the spell he was creating around them, his words spinning a web as fine as gossamer, as strong as steel. She felt quite dizzy and her hands clenched around the now empty glass as she resisted the temptation to clutch at his coat and hold on to him. He ran his thumb lightly across her lower lip and her eyelids fluttered.

She almost moaned with the sensual longing that seemed to melt her inside. She wanted to kiss him. The ache was so strong that it took all her will-power not to reach up and pull his head down so that she could do so. She knew such behaviour would be considered wanton, and it was only the fear that he would pull away from her in disgust that kept her motionless, even though her body was screaming for release. Her breasts felt so full and tender she thought they might burst through the bone and silk of her bodice.

These sensations were so new and frightening that her body trembled. Heady anticipation began to bubble up inside as her body answered to the siren song of his presence. Could he not feel it? Hope soared for an instant, only to be dashed and replaced by a searing disappointment when Drew released her.

‘So,' he said lightly, taking the glass from her nerveless fingers. ‘Now you know why it is important that you have a chaperon to accompany you when you go into society. To protect you from the bad men.'

Elyse knew the danger had passed. She should be relieved, but instead she felt unaccountably bereft and close to tears. She must not show it, however, and forced a little smile as she tried to concentrate upon his words.

‘And do you count yourself a bad man, Drew?'

‘Of course.' A shadow crossed his face. ‘I am an adventurer, and they are the very worst kind.'

She heard the bitterness in his voice and her heart contracted, as if a vice was squeezing it dry. If only she could take his face in her hands and kiss away the pain she saw in his eyes but that was impossible. What had he called her?
A child playing a woman's games.
He did not see her as anything but a nuisance. She must not embarrass him further with her impetuous actions.

Besides, kisses were for brothers and fathers. For husbands and lovers. Drew was not, could never be, any of those and it was not her place to comfort him. The distant chiming of the church bell announced the hour.

‘It is late,' he said, his tone matter of fact. ‘I will give orders that breakfast is to be put back in the morning. We are less than forty miles from Bath and there is no need for a very early start.'

‘Thank you.' Elyse clasped her hands together to disguise the fact that she was shaking from the chill of unhappiness that had penetrated her very bones. ‘I must go to bed.'

‘I will escort you, it would be most improper for you to be wandering alone around the inn at this hour.'

Improper, Drew, but not so dangerous as being alone with you.

Silently she accompanied him through the dimly lit passages of the inn to the door of her room, where he stopped. He reached out and took her hand, lifting it to his lips.

‘Goodnight, Elyse Salforde.'

She gripped his fingers and said urgently, ‘You are not a bad man, Drew. I will never believe that.'

The flickering candles in their wall sconces sent the shadows dancing across his face, almost as if he had suffered a sudden spasm of pain.

‘You do not know me.'

* * *

You do not know me.

Drew's parting words echoed through Elyse's head far into the night, and they were still there when they resumed their journey. When they had met at breakfast he had been polite but distant. By tacit consent they went back to addressing each other formally, and when she had tried to apologise again for slipping off to the ball he stopped her, saying it was best forgotten. But she did not want to forget. Not everything. The noise and excitement of the ball had set her pulse racing and although she had not enjoyed being pawed and ogled by the drunken men, she had experienced a fierce pleasure when she'd recognised Drew and realised he had been watching over her. She had put that down to her relief at being rescued from unwanted attentions in the ballroom, but when they had been alone at the inn and he had moved so close she had felt a breathless, heart-thudding exhilaration.

That Drew had not taken advantage of her she knew was solely because of his strength of character. He had desired her, she had seen it in his eyes and her own body had felt the tug of mutual attraction. He thought her too young, too innocent, but Elyse was beginning to recognise her own feelings and she knew that if he had taken her in his arms at that moment she could not have resisted.

She remembered the first time he had kissed her, to teach her a lesson. She had been ashamed, yes, and humiliated, which had been his intention, but she could still recall the leap of excitement she had felt at his touch, the way his body had called to hers. It was a dangerous, forbidden desire and Elyse could only be thankful that Drew had not acted upon it. He might be an adventurer and a self-confessed rake but he had a strong sense of honour. Papa had charged him with delivering her safe to her fiancé and she knew Drew would do everything in his power to fulfil his obligation.

Elyse turned her head slightly so that she could watch him as the coach rattled on towards Bath. He was lounging back in the corner, one hand pushed into the pocket of his frock-coat and his hat pulled low over his eyes. Only the lower part of his face was visible to her and she took the opportunity to study him, the lean cheeks and strong jaw, the mouth that even in repose had a slight upward tilt at the corners, as if he was always on the verge of laughter. Very rakish. Very attractive. She caught herself up on the thought. Drew was her guardian and he was going out of his way to escort her to her fiancé. Whatever he was, whatever his past, she should be grateful for that.

* * *

When they stopped at Calne to change horses Drew did not move, but Elyse knew he wasn't sleeping.

‘Do you not wish to get out and stretch your legs, sir?'

‘No.'

‘Why, are you hiding, perhaps?'

He pushed his hat up and looked at her.

‘Why should I do that?'

‘I am not sure,' she said slowly, considering the matter. ‘Perhaps you are afraid of being recognised.'

‘What a foolish notion.' He refuted the idea coolly and pulled his hat low again, leaving Elyse once again to the enjoyment of her own company. She did not object, for there was so much to see and once they had left the bustling inn she settled back to watch changing scenery outside the window. She did not know whether it was the new horses or the terrain that made their progress slower, but she was too diverted by the unfamiliar landscape to worry. A layer of heavy grey cloud covered the sky but even so she was entranced by the view.

Rolling hills and verdant woodland stretched away on either side, interspersed with hedged fields and small, picturesque villages. At every bend there was something new to observe, a pretty group of cottages or a grand manor house nestling amongst the trees and instead of the grey stone of the north the buildings here were built of wood or a warm, honey-coloured stone. She became aware that her companion was stirring and was about to remark upon the delightful countryside when she heard him mutter angrily under his breath. By the time she turned to face him he had let down the window and was shouting to the coachman to stop.

‘What is it?' she asked. ‘What is the matter?'

He did not reply, but jumped out as the carriage slowed and she heard him addressing the coachman.

‘Why are we going this way? The road via Box is much the quickest route.'

‘I've got me orders, sir.'

‘Wait—you are not the driver who brought us to Marlborough.'

‘No sir, we comed from Bath—me an' the guard—to bring you in from there, since we knows the road better.'

‘If that is so then you know I am right, the road through Box would be quicker.'

‘Blocked, sir, so we've had to come by way o' Biddestone.'

The route meant nothing to Elyse, but when Drew climbed back into the carriage and they set off again she quickly asked him to explain.

‘We have taken a more northerly road and will enter Bath via Batheaston.'

‘Is it not a good road?' she asked, observing his frowning countenance.

‘Perfectly good,' he replied, ‘but one would normally take the more direct route. However, if it's blocked there's no help for it. 'Tis awash, I suppose. It was always prone to flooding.'

‘You must be very familiar with this area, sir, to know that.'

‘I am.'

Elyse frowned over this as Drew sat back in his corner, his eyes fixed on the passing landscape. The rolling hills were lost to sight as the road descended through an area of thick woodland, robbing the carriage of even more light and plunging them into gloomy shadow.

‘I think you would not have come here again, out of choice,' she ventured, watching him carefully. ‘I think you are afraid that someone will recognise you.'

He looked at her, his eyes shuttered and wary.

‘Why do you say that?'

She gave a little shrug.

‘For several reasons. You remained in the carriage when we stopped to change horses, the landlord at Marlborough thought you looked familiar, and your knowledge of the route we are now taking.'

‘You are very observant, Miss Salforde.'

‘I like to think I am not quite a fool.'

She saw a wry smile tugging at one side of his mouth.

‘No, you are not that.' He looked out of the window once more. ‘I have not travelled this road since I was a boy and would not be here now, if I had not made a promise to your father.'

So he had not come this far for her sake. She knew that, of course, but he need not have expressed it so baldly. Elyse hid her wounded spirit with a show of defiance.

‘You did not have to come. The viscount had made arrangements to convey me—'

‘And look what happened to his secretary! You would not even have reached Marlborough yet.'

‘And if I had not? It would not be any of your concern.'

‘Oh, yes, it would,' he said grimly, ‘I am your guardian until Michaelmas.'

‘I am sure Papa would be content that you had escorted me to the viscount's London home.'

‘I have a duty to deliver you into the viscount's personal care and I shall do so, even if it means risking—'

He broke off, but she pounced on his words.

‘Risking what, Mr Bastion? Being recognised?'

Drew cursed himself for his slip of the tongue and tried to appear nonchalant.

‘Do not be absurd.'

‘I do not think I am being absurd,' she said slowly, a faint crease puckering her brow. ‘You arrive from France, a self-confessed adventurer and you said you left England ten years ago. That would be 'forty-five. The time of the troubles—'