Once Upon a Diamond (4 page)

Tears of both relief and grief filled Kate’s throat. Perhaps
he did want to help her. At this point, she was too tired not to accept his aid.
She would have to keep her wits about her though. “Perhaps a bit of broth,” she
said hesitantly, pulling her reticule from beneath her cloak.

The man raised his hand, interrupting her. “No, I will
pay, and we can serve you a bit more than broth. This inn has no private dining
room.” His lips curved upward. “Of course, you might feel safer in the taproom
than in a private room with me.” 

He called to the red-haired woman who stood beside a
table of rowdy men. “Maggie girl, bring us some beef, potatoes, bread, cheese,
and your finest wine.” 

Kate’s eyes widened. This man might be, without a doubt,
positively gorgeous with his jet-black hair and jewel-like eyes, but she was no
fool. And she was no Maggie either.

Her jaw jutted forward. “Now, see here, your lordship.” Realizing
where she was, she dropped her voice to a raw whisper. “I’m not about to take
your charity, and if it’s not charity, then you very well know what you can do
with your wine.”

To
her surprise, his eyes widened in surprise, then he flashed a set of beautiful
white teeth her way and pointed for her to sit down.
Pointed at her!

“Now,
see here, you little spitfire. You will sit there, you will eat, and I will
watch you.” He spoke with an authority that made her knees lock, his eyes
almost daring her to move.

Kate’s
discomfort quickly turned to irritation as he continued on just like Matthew,
but worse! 

“You
will drink your wine,” he commanded, “and when you are finished, I shall carry
you to your own bedchambers, since I can see that your two legs will not be
able to make even that small journey. You are ill and obviously exhausted.” He
glared at her. “And alone.” 

He
emphasized the last two words with such displeasure, one would think he was her
guardian. But the disgust at her situation had been gnawing at Kate’s
conscience, too.

It
was obvious this earl’s expression was one of pure censure at her being without
some kind of chaperone. She watched in agitation as he leaned back in his
chair, crossed his arms over his massive chest, and dismissed her defiant
attitude with no trouble at all.

“Think
of me as a Good Samaritan. Do I make myself perfectly clear, my girl?”

The gall of the man. “Perfectly.”
Perfectly pompous.
Her voice quivered as she retreated to her seat. The man was insufferable, not
the type of man she’d want to marry, but oh, dear Matthew would adore him. They
would probably be the best of friends.

Everything was going wrong. Everything, including Mr.
Lord Bossy who seemed to be examining her across the table with cat-like eyes.
Blood
pounded in her temples and she looked away. All she wanted to do was to go home.

In
the opposite corner of the taproom, the brawny man shifted his gaze toward the
earl’s table and scowled. Blimey, there he was, Lord Lancewood, sitting at the
table, just as fine as you please, in his spitting white cravat and dandy new
waistcoat.

The burly
man lifted his cup and gulped down his ale. Ha! Looks like his lordship’s taken
on job as protector to that mousy chit who came through the door. Well, ain’t
she going to be surprised when her mighty lord turns up dead in the wee hours
of the morning? And the poor dead earl won’t be havin’ to travel far to be
buried in the family plot.

Grinning,
the man stuffed the key he’d received from the serving wench into his pocket. After
finishing his drink, he clanked the empty cup onto the table. If he weren’t in
such a rush, he would gladly dump the earl’s body on the man’s estate. But a
ride with a dead man was a bit risky, even for his liking.

His
gaze narrowed on the serving wench as she started up the stairs. He watched the
back of her skirts and smiled, his fingers sliding to the handle of his knife. Everything
was moving along just as he planned.

First,
he would thank the wench properly, then take care of his lordship after the man
retired to his bedchamber. And if time were on his side, he’d take a visit to
see Lancewood’s chit. Who knew what lay beyond the gel’s wet cloak and that
stubborn lift of her chin? 

A
surge of lust instantly took hold of his body. But he would wait. He could
control himself for two hours, could he not? 

He
stared into his empty mug and eased out a wicked smile. Yes, this night would
pay out very nicely indeed.

When the earl rose to speak to the proprietor, Kate gave
in to her urge to study the man. He was about as tall as Matthew, about six-foot-two
of him, towering over the proprietor as if he were king.

She
swallowed tightly, recalling the way the lord shouted orders. She would never
want to cross this earl, not a man whose shoulders seemed to span the width of
the table and whose authority seemed to match his size, making her wary of
speaking her piece.

Yet
in the light of the fire, his emerald eyes glinted with a gentleness that
surprised her. His ebony hair glistened like tiny crystals in the nighttime
sky, making him too handsome for his own good. But when he turned, those gentle
eyes changed, staring at her with an intensity that made her flinch. His gaze
was wild and turbulent, much like her voyage across the ocean, and goodness,
that had almost killed her.

Get
a hold of yourself, Kate. He’s just another man.

But
her body didn’t seem to be listening. Her heart quickened like the rain
spattering against the windowpanes. Biting her lip, she quickly looked away. S
omething about him looked oddly familiar.

Well, that was impossible, she mused, shoving the notion
to the back of her brain as the earl took his seat. She was a girl when she’d
visited here last.
Good heavens. England was making her daft.

Except she was all too aware that the gentleman sitting
across from her was accustomed to giving orders. In fact, he sounded more like
her father, or brother, for that matter, than a stranger.

She was ready to tell him something to that effect when
a clap of thunder ripped through the sky. Startled, she jumped an inch off her
seat.

“Quite a storm outside,” the earl said, smiling,
seemingly amused at her reaction.

“It’s divine. Just divine.” 

Kate’s attention jerked to her covered birdcage, and her
cheeks flamed with embarrassment. The unlikely sound of Mrs. Hollingsworth’s
words, bursting forth from the flapping beast beside mortified her. Drat her
brother for buying her that ghastly featherbrain. Drat Matthew and all his
stupid plans.

She lifted her gaze and met with a pair of questioning
black brows. The man probably thought she was as insane as she looked. A simmering
heat shot through her, and she slouched deeper into her cloak, pulling the
cover off her birdcage, trying to explain.

“He’s a, well, you see, it’s my parrot.” Her words were
barely heard above the bird’s flapping wings.

The earl narrowed his eyes, tucking away his grin. “Your
parrot?”

She nodded. “He was a gift.” 

“It’s divine,” the parrot piped again. “Simply divine.” 
Red feathers whipped up and down and Kate groaned.

“Divine?” the earl asked, almost choking out the words.

Kate shrugged helplessly, pulling her hood forward so
the gentleman could not see the utter humiliation she felt. Tears clogged her
throat as memories of the past few months began to overwhelm her. Her father’s
death. Her brother’s decision to send her to England. The wretched voyage and
now this. What had happened to the girl she had left in Boston?

Having no strength, she realized she would have to
accept the man’s kindness and keep her wits about her at all times. She was
less than a half-day’s ride from her relatives. What else could she to do? She
was in a pickle of a mess, and she wondered for the tenth time if she could
trust this man. As if on cue, there was a soft brushing against her skirt. Her
eyes lit up in shock. A hand? 

At least one of her questions was answered. The cad! If
he thought for one minute she would not speak up, he would wish for the pox
instead. And to think he had the audacity to look back at her with a surprised
expression as if she had touched him! 

She slammed her hand onto the table ready to scream if
necessary, but her heart jumped to her throat when she felt something furry. Something
wet and furry pushing against her skin.

The truth finally hit her. She glanced down and laughed.
“Handsome!”

“Handsome?” the earl replied, confused.

“Not you,” she giggled in relief. “Him.” 

It was the dog from the docks. She pulled the mangy
beast to her cheek and hot tears sprang to her eyes. “The poor thing must have
followed me all the way through the storm.”

“It’s divine. Just divine,” the parrot chimed again.

To Kate’s relief, the earl ignored the bird. “Handsome?”
He pointed to the animal and scoffed. “You call
that
handsome?”

With
thoughts only for the dog, Kate pulled some bread off the earl’s plate and
looked up at him. “Do you mind?” Her food was coming, but she hated for
Handsome to wait.   

“Mind?” 
The earl cleared his throat. “Surely a creature as handsome as that should have
the entire plate.” He pushed his beef and bread towards her. “Come to think of
it, why not offer some to Mr. Divine as well.” 

If
there was a hint of amusement in his voice, Kate didn’t hear it. “Thank you,”
she said, smiling. After offering a few bites to both animals, her food
arrived, but she continued to pet Handsome until he fell fast asleep at her
feet, then she began eating.

Dumbfounded, Tristan continued his watch as the slip of
the girl caressed a mutt that looked more like a gigantic wet rat than man’s
best friend. And that horrid parrot! Yet she had fed the blasted animals before
herself! What kind of female was this? What a menagerie of misfits.

Who was this girl out alone on such a miserable night? She
reminded him of someone, but he couldn’t quite place her. Someone from his past.
A friend? A relative? A daughter of an acquaintance? No, no, it was his
imagination. Besides, he had the diamond to think about. He hid his scowl and
looked about the tap. Where the devil was Fletcher?

After a minute, he brought his gaze back to the girl. Her
wet hood had slipped from her head, revealing a heart-shaped face that looked
so vulnerable he felt his heart turn.

Where the hell was her chaperone? Needless to say, if he
hadn’t stepped in to help her, some of the greedy eyes peering her way might
have ventured to help her in ways she probably could never even imagine. Although
she appeared weak, she showed extreme independence, especially packed with all
that mud.

He thought her about sixteen, perhaps stretching things,
a year older. Yet her manners were genteel, cultured, as if she were the
daughter of a king. Who the devil was she? 

Like a mother hen, she continued to pet the sleeping dog.
Something in his blood stirred at the sight. For some uncanny reason, he wanted
to exchange places with that mangy beast.

Devil take it, for the first time in a long while he
felt comfortable with a female. Yet she was everything he was not. Compassionate.
Giving. Innocent and pure. He leaned back in his seat and studied the angles of
her face. Soft and feminine. Someone who needed a man to protect her in this
world.

She could be quite passable when she cleaned up. If she
were a bit older and a bit less stubborn, he would have been interested. But
she was only a child. Younger than his brother.

He quickly looked away, taking a sip of his wine. Dash
it all. What was happening to him? 

“Since we are dining together,” he said when he finally
gathered his emotions and turned his gaze upon her. “I thought it might be the
proper thing to know your name. I realize there is no one to introduce us but
your driver. However, under the circumstances...”

She looked up as she forked a large piece of beef into
her mouth, then swallowed slowly, her brown eyes flashing with uncertainty. “My
friends call me Kate.” 

“Kate?” He stroked his chin and watched as she stuffed
in another bite, then she stopped halfway as if she finally noticed her slip of
the tongue by not introducing herself by her last name. “Rather similar to Shakespeare’s
Taming of the Shrew
, Kate?” he asked.

“Not far from it, I’m afraid.” She gave him a girlish
smile that seemed to twist around his heart like a steaming stew on a cold winter
night. “You do recall the hearty kick I gave you?” 

“I remember. Are you always so
–
”

“Stubborn like a mule?”  She raised a delicate brow as
she picked up her wine.

“Ah, I see you have a bit of steel wrapped in those
innocent brown eyes. Probably give your parents quite the run around, eh?” A
flash of pain seemed to work its way to her eyes, and then as swiftly as it
appeared, it was gone. He could have kicked himself. Had she run away from
home? Or did she have a darker secret?