Sally MacKenzie Bundle (180 page)

She stared up at him for a moment and then nodded. He watched her vanish over the side before he turned to welcome his visitor.

It took Sarah a second to understand what James meant. Then she too heard a step in the hall. She nodded, slid across the sheets and dropped to the floor.

She scooted under the bed. She did not want the chambermaid to see her—just as James did not, no matter what he’d said. Now that she wasn’t drugged by his presence, she was shocked by her behavior. How could she have been so wanton? She had just about begged him to take off her nightgown.

Where
was
her nightgown? She shivered. Goose bumps prickled her arms. She couldn’t see a thing in the thick shadows under the bed. She reached around blindly. Her fingers collided with something hard and round—an old chamber pot, by the feel of it.

The bed creaked sharply and the mattress sagged towards her. She heard muffled grunts, a thrashing sound. Certainly the chambermaid could not be causing this commotion. Something was very wrong. She grabbed the chamber pot and scrambled out from under the bed.

James was locked in a wrestling match with a cloaked, masked man.

She had no time to think. She lifted her makeshift weapon high and slammed it down onto the back of the intruder’s head. He grunted and fell forward onto James. James pushed the body to the floor, and then reached under his pillow to pull out a gun.

“Well done!” He grinned at her.

She stared at him. “You keep a gun under your pillow?” She swallowed, feeling slightly faint. “You could have shot me when I came in earlier!”

“I would never shoot you, love.”

“Well, you should have shot him.” She pointed to the man on the ground.

“Oh, I don’t think so. Guns can have such permanent results, and this fellow may be of more use to us alive than dead.” He climbed out of bed and pulled away the scarf that had partially obscured the man’s face. “Hmm. It looks like we have finally found our friend Dunlap.”

The door crashed open.

“Ah, Harrison! Just the man we need. Come in and give me a hand, will you?”

Harrison stepped in and closed the door firmly behind him, shutting out a gathering crowd of footmen. He managed to look decorous even with his nightcap askew and his hairy ankles sticking out from under his nightshirt.

“Good evening, your grace, Miss Hamilton.” Harrison kept his eyes firmly fixed on the ceiling. “If I might, your grace, may I suggest Miss Hamilton borrow your dressing gown?” He reached into the wardrobe and pulled out a long, blue robe. He held it out in their direction.

“Splendid, Harrison.” James took the robe and draped it over Sarah’s shoulders. She scrambled to get her arms in the sleeves and belted it tightly around her waist. “Miss Hamilton has misplaced her nightgown.”

“Indeed.” Harrison took a quick glance in her direction and was visibly relieved to find her decently covered. “I’m certain it will turn up.” He looked at James. “You might wish to don some clothing yourself, your grace.”

“Good point.”

James scooped his breeches off the floor. Sarah’s eyes were drawn to the part of his anatomy usually covered by that item of apparel. It didn’t look the way it had felt. As she watched, it stirred and thickened. She looked wonderingly into James’s face.

“Later, sweetheart,” he muttered as he almost jumped into his breeches. He pulled on his shirt. “I don’t suppose you have any rope, do you, Harrison? I’d like to secure Mr. Dunlap’s hands before he comes to.”

“I’m afraid I don’t, your grace, but we might use a few of your second-best cravats.”

“Brilliant. Hand them over.”

Sarah watched James truss up Mr. Dunlap. He tied Dunlap’s hands behind his back and then looped the other end of the cravat around the man’s neck.

“You’re quite good at that.”

“I’ve had a little experience, on both sides of the rope. Fortunately, the Frenchman who tied me was not an expert in the art.” James pulled the last knot tight. “There we go—and just in time, too.”

Dunlap’s eyes fluttered open. He rolled over on his side. “Alvord. How the hell did you manage to hit me on the back of my head?”

“Miss Hamilton did the honors. I believe she had a score to settle with you.”

Dunlap looked at Sarah. His eyes focused on her oversized robe and bare feet.

“How handy she was nearby,” he said dryly.

“Yes, indeed. You might also be interested to know that Miss Hamilton has agreed to wed me, and we expect to enter that blessed state today.”

Dunlap shifted his weight on the floor. “My felicitations.”

James inclined his head. “I believe that I have heard unpleasant rumors that marriage to me might have an adverse effect on Miss Hamilton’s continued good health. I am sure that such rumors are unfounded. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Dunlap shrugged. “Rumors are like wheat—a small kernel of truth and much chaff.”

James jerked on the cravat and Dunlap’s arms moved higher on his back. He winced.

“There had better be no truth to these rumors, Dunlap. Do you get my meaning?”

“Completely.”

“Good, then I suggest you spend the next few minutes telling me everything you know about my cousin’s actions.”

“I can’t.”

“Oh, I think you can. Candor is certainly in your best interest. You may not be totally familiar with the ways of British society, but a duke wields significantly more power than a mere Mr. Runyon. I could have you hung for trying to kill me. However, provide me with the right information, and I’ll consider other options for ridding us of your presence.”

“Like passage from this benighted island?” Dunlap snorted. “I would love to be quit of your hell-born cousin.”

“As would I. Tell me what I need to know and you can sail back to your homeland. For example, what hold does Richard have over you?”

“There was an unfortunate accident in Paris a year or so ago…”

“You mean Chuckie Phelps?”

“Exactly. It wasn’t quite what it seemed, but I couldn’t very well go to the authorities and explain things.”

“No, I don’t suppose you could. So Richard’s been blackmailing you.”

“Yes, he had some of my letters. Chuckie and I had a rather, ah, intense friendship.”

“Yes, yes.” James looked over at Sarah. “No need to go into the details. I’m more interested in my cousin’s plans.”

“He flat doesn’t want to see you married, ever. He’s a bit unbalanced over it.”

“I noticed.”

Dunlap tried to shrug. “There’s no reasoning with him. You don’t suppose you could loosen these ties, do you? I’m losing circulation to my hands.”

“What a pity. Think of it as penance for your treatment of Miss Hamilton at the Palmerson ball.”

Dunlap looked over at Sarah. “My apologies, ma’am. My heart truly wasn’t in it.”

Sarah pulled James’s robe more tightly around her. “You, Mr. Dunlap, are a disgusting, spineless parasite.”

Dunlap inclined his head. “I didn’t expect you to understand.”

“Lord Westbrooke and I encountered your men outside the Spotted Dog,” James said. “Why did you undertake the task in person tonight?”

“Your cousin insisted. I prefer to subcontract this kind of work. As you can see, I’m sadly out of practice.”

“You weren’t doing so badly. I was quite happy for Miss Hamilton’s assistance.” James leaned back against the bed. “So here’s my proposition. You will write a confession—”

“You’ll have to loosen these damn—pardon.” He shot Sarah a look. “These
blasted
bonds if you want me to write anything. And you’d better hurry or my fingers will be so numb it’ll take ’em days to get back feeling.”

“Don’t worry. You’ll be able to write. You will also be carefully guarded. You will write a confession detailing your involvement and Richard’s. In exchange, I will see you loaded on the next ship bound for America with the understanding that you are never to darken England’s shores again.”

“No danger of that. I can’t wait to shake the British dust off my boots. I’ve found the climate doesn’t agree with me.”

“Exactly.” James lifted his pistol and pointed it at Dunlap. “Harrison, would you invite two of our most burly footmen to join us?”

“Not the Runners,” Dunlap said as Harrison left the room.

“Ah, you know about them. I wonder why they haven’t broken the door down by now.”

“I think perhaps they aren’t feeling quite the thing. I had to encourage them to take some much-needed rest.”

“Really? I would hate to think you had deprived us of two of Bow Street’s finest.”

“Not permanently,” Dunlap said quickly. “They will awake in the morning with aching heads. I slipped them something in their wine.”

There was a noise at the door. “Sarah, love, you look quite fetching in my dressing gown, but you might want to fade into the background now,” James said.

Sarah moved to the far corner of the room as Harrison came in with two footmen. They hauled Dunlap over to the desk and pushed him into the seat. James loosened his bonds while the footmen held him in place.

“Please make your recollections very detailed,” James said. “You might find your accommodations on your trip to America slightly more appealing if you satisfy me that you have written all that you know. Do not, however, embellish.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Dunlap scratched away for a considerable time. “Done,” he said and sat back. James retied his hands, then perused the confession.

“This should do.” He gestured to Harrison and the footmen. “Would you be so good as to escort our guest to the wharves? Tell Captain Rutledge of the
Flying Gull
that Mr. Dunlap requires passage to New York. He’ll know what to do.”

“I assume I’ll not have to spend the journey trussed up like a Christmas goose?” Dunlap asked as the two footmen hustled him toward the door.

“No. Rutledge will see that you don’t jump ship before she sails, and then he’ll probably put you to work. You should have a tolerable crossing. Better than you deserve.”

Sarah came out of the shadows as James closed the door behind Dunlap. “Do you really think he will go quietly?”

James gathered her into his arms. “Yes, he seemed genuinely anxious to leave England. And Rutledge is a good man. He won’t lose track of him.”

She rested her head on his shoulder. “I’ll be happier once I know Dunlap is gone.”

“Rutledge will send word as soon as they set sail.” He rubbed his hands up and down her back. “But I truly don’t expect anything to go wrong.”

“Too bad we can’t stick Richard on the same ship.”

“Yes.” James combed one hand through her hair. “Though I’m not sure we should curse your homeland with my evil cousin.”

“True.” She sighed. James’s fingers felt wonderful. “Will Dunlap’s confession be enough to get Richard to leave us alone?”

“I don’t know. I’m happy to have it for my own sake. There were times, many times, when I wondered if I wasn’t imagining Richard’s role in this. But whether the word of an American brothel keeper will be enough to stop Richard…” James shrugged. “We’ll see. First, though, I’m getting a special license.” He held Sarah’s hair away from her neck and kissed the spot just under her ear. She tilted her head to give him more access. He laughed and held her away from him.

“This will have to wait. When Harrison comes back, I need to get dressed and start things in motion for our wedding tonight.”

“What should I do?”

“Go back to bed—your own bed, unfortunately.” He pulled her close again and kissed the other side of her neck. “I hope this will be the last time you sleep there.” He grinned. “I hope it will be the last time you sleep at all for quite some time. So get your rest.” He let her go and turned toward his bed. “Now, let’s see if we can find that elusive nightgown.”

It took a few minutes, but James finally put his hands on it. It had sailed halfway across the room and landed near the door.

“It’s a wonder Dunlap didn’t trip on it,” he said.

“It’s a wonder the footmen didn’t notice it,” Sarah said.

“Well, if they did, they are probably cheering about it in the servants’ quarters.” He held the nightgown up. “You had better put this back on. I doubt you want to be traipsing down the corridor dressed only in my robe.”

“I certainly don’t.” She reached for the nightgown, but James held it away.

“No, no. I’ll give you your nightgown when you give me my robe.”

Sarah blushed, suddenly shy. She took a deep breath.
This is ridiculous,
she told herself. After what she and James had done together, standing naked before him was nothing. She untied his dressing gown and shrugged her shoulders, letting the robe slide down her arms to pool at her feet. She glanced over at James.

“God, Sarah.” He reached out to touch her shoulders, her waist, her hips, her breasts. “You
are
beautiful.” He gathered her hair in his hands, bringing her body against his, and kissed her.

Sarah lost herself in the heat of that kiss. Her knees gave out and she sagged into him. She stretched, wrapping her arms around his neck, putting her skin, her breasts, and her legs, against the firmness of his body, the roughness of his clothes. His hands spread over the curves of her bottom, settling her against the hard ridge in his breeches. She moved and he groaned in the back of his throat. His tongue stroked into her mouth.

“Your grace?”

Sarah heard a faint scratching at the door.

“Your grace? It’s Harrison.”

She leapt back as if scalded. Harrison was on the other side of the door, a door he might open at any moment. She grabbed her nightgown out of James’s hands and threw it over her head. She scrambled around in the voluminous garment.

“Here, slow down,” James whispered. “You’re trying to put your head through an armhole. Let me help you.”

“Mmzpt!” she said through the folds of cloth.

James grabbed her thrashing arms and held her still. “Stop panicking.” He found the neck opening in the tangle of cloth. “Stick your head through here.”

Sarah’s head popped out of the fabric. She threw a frantic look at the door.

“Harrison won’t come in until I tell him, sweetheart. I think he has a good idea of what may be going on in here.”