Lori Brighton - [The Seduction 02] (6 page)

She shrugged, feigning indifference. “We need the rain for the crops.”

“Perhaps.”

What did he mean by that response? “Besides, the world could always do with a good cleansing.” And she truly was thrilled to be away from the noxious scents of London and the overwhelming perfume of lavender. How she missed her countryside.

“Yes,” Gideon replied noncommittally. “But I don’t suppose you like highwaymen.”

That smirk she’d been wearing instantly disappeared. “Pardon?”

When he didn’t respond, but merely watched her with that arrogant, knowing gaze, she tore back the curtains and looked outside. She could see nothing in the darkness, could not decipher shadow from man. Was he intentionally trying to frighten her? She wouldn’t put it past him.

“I would guess that there are two. I’m no expert, but I know that they usually work in pairs,” he said. “The fact that your driver has neither shouted out a warning, nor attempted to outrun them, leads me to assume they are working together.”

Her shock and fear turned to anger. Blast it! “What shall we do?” She hadn’t meant to say the words, as if she expected him to protect her. But really, she was paying him after all, the least he could do was offer a suggestion. “Do you have any weapons?”

“No. The whips were left in my bedchamber.”

She flushed and hated herself for reacting when she knew his purpose had been to embarrass her. Even now, while under threat of attack, he couldn’t be serious. What a ridiculous and frustrating man!

He quirked a brow in that snide way. “And you? Any weapons, perhaps?”

“Of course, I’m not stupid enough to traipse across Northern England without one.”

He merely grinned at her biting comment. Frustrating man!

Determined to ignore him, she lifted her skirt and pulled a knife from the sheath strapped to her calf. His grin fell. For the first time since she’d met him, he actually looked surprised, more likely from seeing the knife than from seeing her leg. After all, she’d assumed he’d seen plenty of feminine limbs in the last fourteen years.

“Here.” He held out his hand, recovering from his surprise quickly enough.

She hesitated, studying him warily. “How do I know I can trust you?”

His lips thinned, as if he was actually offended. Well, what should she think? The man spent his nights and days on his back. Did he even know how to fight? Yes, she’d felt only muscle when he’d pressed his body to hers and kissed her in Lady Lavender’s parlor, but that didn’t mean he knew how to protect himself. When he continued to glare at her with his hand outstretched, she crumbled.

“Very well.” She slapped the blade against his large palm.

“This is it?”

“Yes.” She knew how to lie. One didn’t grow up where she had without knowing how to lie. His gaze narrowed. Either her skills had diminished or he was incredibly well versed at spotting a liar.

“What shall I do, poke their eyes out?”

She sighed and reached into her reticule, pulling out the small Derringer.

The weapon looked tiny in his massive palm. “Single shot.”

“Yes.”

The carriage jerked to a stop, hidden within a patch of dark woods. There was no struggle, no shouted words of warning. Hell, he’d been right; the driver was in on the attack. Could no one be trusted? Elizabeth scooted to the edge of her seat, her breath held, but Gideon merely stayed where he was, relaxed, the pistol dangling from his fingertips, the knife resting on his muscled thigh as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

The carriage bounced, the horses neighing. “What are they doing?” she whispered.

“I do believe they are taking the horses so that we’re truly stuck.”

“Bastards!” She’d just purchased this carriage. More than annoyed, she started to reach for the door, intending to stop their progress.

Gideon lifted his arm, blocking her exit. “Stay in here, no matter what.”

She was so stunned by his sudden show of gallantry that she actually paused. Perhaps he thought he must protect her in order to get the money he would make. Or maybe he was in on the attack. If he thought she would cower in the corner praying for her soul, he’d learn soon enough she was no quivering miss. He blew out the lantern, throwing the carriage into darkness, then waited, pistol raised.

She heard the softest shuffle of feet right before Gideon kicked the door wide. It hit the man closest, sending him stumbling to the ground. Gideon pulled back the trigger at the same time the two standing cohorts did. There was a soft click, click, click. Elizabeth’s heart actually stopped beating for a breathless moment. She would have to do something and fast or Gideon
would end up getting himself killed, and she needed him much, much more than he realized. Slowly, Gideon moved from the carriage, his gaze trained on the two men still standing.

“Mr. Frond,” Elizabeth said, following Gideon from the coach. The men were hard to decipher in the dark, but she could make out her driver’s portly form. “You will
not
receive a recommendation from me.”

Gideon slid her an exasperated glance. “Did I not tell you to stay put?”

“Well really,” she whispered, “there are no honorable men anymore. It’s quite upsetting.”

“Hand her over,” the driver muttered.

If it wasn’t for his trembling arm, the sweat glistening on his brow would have given away his unease. Elizabeth’s lips drew back in disgust. An unpleasant pig. There was nothing she despised more than a coward, and Mr. Frond and his men were definitely cowards.

Impatient, she glanced toward Gideon, wondering when he’d make some sort of move. Yet, the blasted man seemed quite relaxed, looking them over as if attempting to decide if they were worth the effort. He didn’t seem in the least bit worried, but then he didn’t understand the truth of the matter. He assumed they were merely highwaymen looking for a few coins, but she knew better.

Although his pistol was still trained on the nearest man, there was a flippant air about Gideon that greatly annoyed her. “I hand her over, I don’t get paid.”

Elizabeth frowned. She was glad her life meant so much to him. The cur. Mr. Smith had been right, what little soul Gideon had been born with had most likely withered and died years ago.

The driver sneered. “Aye, and we know ye like to get paid for yer services, don’t ye?”

Elizabeth stiffened. They knew…they knew about her visit to the brothel, which meant all of London would know by the week’s
end. She pressed her hands to her lower belly, seized by horror. She’d been so bloody careful.

“There’s no need to be rude,” Gideon said in such a calm voice that the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, telling her something was most definitely wrong.

Slowly, her gaze slid to him. There was something utterly magnificent about the man. He was preparing to pounce. She could sense it in his very being, see it in the slight tautness of his shoulders. She knew immediately this would not end well. She could only pray that she and Gideon would come out unscathed.

“Then we’ll shoot her.” One man shifted, pointing his gun at Elizabeth. The driver kept his pistol trained on Gideon. While the third man lay groaning upon the ground.

“Aye.” Mr. Frond nodded. “Good idea, Sam.”

“Fine,” Gideon said, pointing his pistol into the air. “Come and get her then, because I’m not dealing with the hellion.”

Elizabeth didn’t bother to pretend outrage. Her mouth fell open on a startled gasp. If she hadn’t had a gun trained on her, she very well might have punched him in his beautiful face. As it was, she had to curl her fingers into fists to keep from reaching out and strangling the man. She should have known he’d turn on her for a few pence. Mr. Smith had been right, the man was a bounder. A cad. A…a…

“Go on,” Sam urged Mr. Frond forward while their friend still lay upon the ground, moaning in anguish.

Mr. Frond narrowed his beady eyes on Gideon as if he didn’t quite trust the man and shuffled toward Elizabeth. Gideon lunged forward. It happened so quickly that it was all a blur, but suddenly Mr. Frond was in Gideon’s grasp. It was as he lifted the knife to her driver’s throat, the blade flashing under the moonlight, that Elizabeth came to her senses.

“No!”

He paused. They all paused.

“Don’t kill him.”

Gideon’s dark brows drew together. “Why?”

Why?
Why!
Did he really have to ask? Because…because she was tired of death, tired of witnessing the life drain from a person; she’d seen too much of it in London. But mostly because dead men drew attention and they most definitely did not need attention. “Because…because his blood might get on my gown.”

Gideon sighed in obvious annoyance but eased the knife away and shoved the man forward. When Sam stumbled back a step, avoiding his friend, she knew by the spark in his eyes he was preparing to flee. Apparently so did Gideon. With a flick of his wrist, he threw Elizabeth’s blade. For the briefest of moments it twisted and turned before striking the man in the arm. He cried out, dropping the pistol. Startled, one of the mounts took off into a wild gallop, and Sam took the opportunity to tear the knife from his arm, dropping the weapon and bursting toward the trees.

“Can I shoot him now?” Gideon asked as they watched the man flee.

Elizabeth sighed. “No, not in the back. It wouldn’t be honorable.”

Gideon snorted. Perhaps she sounded ridiculous, but she understood why men did desperate things. When you watched your family starve, it would tempt even the saintliest of men to behave like demons. And she could tell by the man’s scrawny body that he was lacking in nourishment. Besides, they would just send more. There would always be more.

Gideon lowered his pistol and glanced at the driver. “Go before I change my mind.”

Frond didn’t need to be told twice. He scampered toward the dark woods, a shadow running after his friend. Gideon glanced at the carriage. It looked as if the wheels had been tampered with.

“Apparently, we’ll be riding mounts the rest of the way.”

He didn’t notice the man on the ground lift his pistol, but Elizabeth did. Instinct had her reacting before Gideon. He lifted his pistol and fired only a split second after she had. The blast
rang out, startling a nest of birds above and scaring off all but one mount, which Gideon managed to grab. The remaining man fell back with a gasp…his last breath of air.

“You lied,” Gideon snapped, getting the mount under control with his smoothing strokes that belied his annoyance. “You had another pistol.”

Elizabeth lowered the gun, refusing to feel guilty. “As did you.” She swallowed hard, sickened by the sight of the dark liquid seeping across the man’s chest. “You know how to fight, yet led me believe you were nothing more than…”

Warmth rushed to her cheeks as she caught herself just in time.

“A whore?” He seemed only amused by her comment. “Lady Lavender insisted we keep in good health. In fact, she even liked to watch us spar.”

She frowned, focusing on the dead man upon the ground. She hadn’t offended Gideon in the least, because the man had no heart. But they were down to one mount and they’d killed a man and she couldn’t seem to keep her hands from shaking.

As if sensing her nerves, Gideon gently reached out and took the pistol from her fingertips. “We should find shelter,” he said, the first rational thing since she’d met him.

A chill mist started to fall that coated her face and hands like ice. Elizabeth nodded, her gaze focused on the body. Perhaps this would be for the best. She slid him a glance. Abandoned in the middle of the countryside wasn’t ideal, but it would give her more time alone with Gideon. Still, she certainly hadn’t expected to kill someone. That did put a damper on her plans to seduce the man. Nothing ruined the mood like death.

“Shall we?” he said, holding the mount steady.

When she didn’t respond, but continued to stare at the body, he took her arm and pulled her close. She’d barely had time to object before he’d wrapped his hands around her waist and lifted her onto the saddle.

“I take it you’ve never killed before?” he asked.

“Of course not. Have you?”

He didn’t respond, merely scooped up her dagger and slipped it into his waistband. Then again she wasn’t quite sure if she wanted to know his response. Elizabeth stiffened as he jumped up behind her. She could feel the hard set of his thighs pressed to her bottom and hips. His muscled chest pressed indecently to her back. His close proximity was unsettling but also strangely enticing.

“Highwaymen in this part of the country are normal,” he said.

Why did she have a feeling he was asking her a question? As if he wasn’t sure? As if he’d been trapped in that gilded prison Lady Lavender had constructed for so long, he hadn’t a clue how the world worked? His steel arms wrapped around her waist, his hands taking up the reins. Exhausted emotionally and physically, she had to resist the urge to sink back into his strong body. Somehow she remained rigid, leaving at least some distance between the two of them.

“Yes, highwaymen would be normal,” she replied. The rain thickened, pattering against the trees and soaking her dress. Elizabeth wrapped her arms around her waist. “But they were no highwaymen.”

Gideon’s breath was warm on her neck as he started the mount forward with a gentle tightening of his thighs. The night stretched out before them like a vast and empty pit. “Who were they?”

Thunder rumbled, shaking the ground and causing the mount to give a nervous sidestep. “They were the men my mother-in-law sent to kill me.”

The inn left much to be desired and was made all the worse under the glow of the lamplight hanging suspended from the eaves. The large Tudor lodging with its dingy plastered walls and sagging dark beams leaned precariously toward the south, as if pointing the way to better accommodations. If it weren’t for the soft glow of firelight coming through the dusty windows, he would have assumed they’d come across an abandoned building.

“The-the Ole Sh-Ship Inn,” Elizabeth muttered between teeth that chattered. “Odd, considering there isn’t e-even a lake nearby that I’m aware of.”

There were a lot of things odd about this day, but in his opinion the name of the inn was the least strange. No one dared to loiter in the rain. The only sounds were the neigh of their mount and the soft patter of rain on the leaves above. As they were a good day’s ride from Mrs. Ashton’s country home, they had no choice
but to stay the night at this secluded building that claimed to be an inn.