Scoundrel (37 page)

Lily felt herself grow very cold inside. “Lacroix,” she managed to whisper. “Do you think they know his identity?”

Remmington studied her face for a long, silent moment, his expression unreadable. “I warned him of the possibilities, Lily. He knows to watch his back.”

“But what if…” She couldn’t go on, couldn’t allow herself to consider those possibilities.

Remmington’s arm went around her. He pulled her closer until her head rested on his shoulder. “Try not to worry, Lily. I know Lacroix well enough to be certain he can take care of himself. Tell me more about that code the two of you use. Why do you need a dictionary to decipher it?”

His question was a blatant attempt to change the subject, but Lily welcomed the distraction. She didn’t want to think about the danger Robert faced, not when she couldn’t do anything to prevent it. She concentrated on her explanation of the Cross code. As the miles rolled by, he began to tell her more of his own activities. The sound of his deep voice and the tender way he held her calmed her fears, even though they spoke no more of Sebastian Lacroix. The gentle swaying of the coach and the lulling vibration of the wheels affected her as well, and soon her eyes drifted closed.

Remmington woke her several hours later when they stopped for the night at an inn. She sensed the difference in his mood right away. Sometime while she slept, he’d shifted her onto his lap. He woke her with a kiss. Her hands laced around his neck and she began to return the kiss before she was fully awake. She realized the coach had stopped moving at the same time he broke away from her lips. He tucked her head under his chin and she heard him take several deep breaths. She wound her arms beneath his jacket and pressed closer to his warmth.

“We are at an inn called the Brass Ring,” he told her, his voice oddly hoarse. Lily struggled to pay attention. He was rubbing the back of her neck in such soothing motions that she felt as if she could melt. “I sent Jack inside to make arrangements for our meal and accommodations. What baggage do you need for the night?”

“The blue tapestry satchel,” she mumbled, rubbing her cheek against his chest.

She shifted slightly to press herself closer to him, but his hands were suddenly at her waist. He lifted her off his lap, then moved her onto the seat next to him. “I’m sure Jack has our room by now. Let’s go inside.”

Remmington helped her from the carriage and kept a firm arm around her waist as he led her across the inn’s stableyard. It was nearly dusk and the yard was a flurry of activity. The Brass Ring was a large inn, a three-storied brick structure covered almost entirely by ivy. A painting of its namesake hung over the low doorway that led to the public rooms. Jack was there to give them directions to a room upstairs.

Their chamber was small, but there was a cheerful coziness to the furnishings that indicated a woman’s touch. Colorful rag rugs covered the planked floor, and a table and two chairs were placed near the window. A flower-patterned cloth covered the table, and a matching spread covered the bed. Lily’s gaze moved from the bed to her husband’s large frame. She knew already that his feet would dangle over the end of the normal-sized mattress. The image of it made her smile until she recalled that she would be sharing that bed with him.

Jack arrived almost immediately with a large platter that contained their dinner. He placed the tray on the table while one of the outriders set their baggage inside the door, then the servants departed with word from Remmington that they would leave shortly after dawn the next morning.

Lily eyed her meal with little interest. Her stomach still felt unsettled from the long hours in the coach. Remmington’s appetite didn’t seem diminished in the least. He appeared almost hurried as he ate, which kept conversation to a minimum. The way he watched her throughout the meal made her nervous. One dark brow rose when she finally pushed away her half-eaten meal.

“You aren’t hungry?”

She shrugged. “I never feel like eating when I travel.”

“Are you ill?”

“No. I’m just not hungry.” She picked up her mug of mulled wine and took a tentative sip. It was better than she expected, and she took a deeper drink.

“How are you feeling otherwise?” He set his fork down, his gaze never leaving her as he waited for an answer.

“I feel fine.” She wondered at his sudden interest in her health. Uncertain what else she could say to reassure him, she took another drink of wine.

He pushed his plate away and leaned forward, his voice lowered. “Are you still sore from last night?”

It took a moment for the meaning of his words to sink in. When they did, she choked on her wine. Alarmed, he reached over and started to pound his hand against her back. The first blow almost sent her face-first into her plate. She managed to grab his arm between the third and fourth blows to stop him before he dealt her an injury. Trying to retain as much of her dignity as possible, she placed her mug of wine on the table and picked up her napkin to dab at her watery eyes.

“Are you all right?”

“I will recover. You are stronger than you realize, my lor—Miles. I do seem to have trouble remembering to call you by your Christian name. Only natural, I suppose. I’ve known you by your title for as long as I can recall. It’s a very nice name, though. How did your parents decide upon it?”

Remmington leaned back in his chair and smiled. “Are you attempting to avoid my question, by any chance?”

“I don’t think so.” She made her eyes purposely wide, hopefully innocent. “I did say that I would recover, which naturally means I will be all right.”

“That guileless expression is one of your most enchanting, my sweet, but I know you too well to be fooled by mock innocence. You know which question I refer to.”

Lily turned her attention to the wine she’d spilled on the tablecloth. “I feel quite fine in all respects.”

He caught her hand and placed a deft kiss in the palm. “Are you telling me the truth, Lily? I don’t want to hurt you again. If you aren’t ready, we can wait until… tomorrow night.”

“You’ve never hurt me,” she said in a quiet voice. Her expression turned considering. “Well, perhaps just a little when you pounded on my back.”

The serious lines on his face dissolved into a smile. “I do love your sense of humor.”

Lily bit her lip, but she couldn’t contain the question any longer. “Do you think the day might come when you could come to love me as well?”

His smiled faltered. He took her hand and stood up, pulling her to her feet. He placed his hands on her shoulders, his expression solemn as he gazed down at her. “I want there to be only truth between us, Lily.”

She shook her head, knowing instinctively that she could do with a few lies instead. “If you have nothing good to say, then perhaps you should say nothing at all.”

“No, Lily. I don’t want you to deceive yourself, or accuse me of deceit at some later date. I want our relationship to be built on truth and understanding. What you think of as love rarely if ever involves those two traits.” He eyed her expectantly, then his mouth quirked downward when she didn’t readily agree with his opinion. “I learned long ago that romantic love exists only in fairy tales, yet the word itself can mean many things. We sometimes deceive ourselves with it, as I believe you are deceiving yourself now. For instance, I might say that I love strawberries in cream, but that does not mean I am
in
love with them, or that they will always be my favorite food. Do you understand what I am saying?”

“I understand that you are comparing me to fruit.” She wrapped her fingers around his wrists and removed his hands from her shoulders. “I also understand that you think my feelings are childish and naive.”

He sighed in defeat. “I’ve hurt you.”

“How astute you are.” Lily took a step forward and pushed against his shoulder. Startled, he retreated a step. “I am in love with you, you… insensitive beast!” She pushed him back another step. “You lied to me last night. You said we would make love, and I lived up to my part of the bargain. Now I realize we did nothing of the sort. I made love, but
you
… it was nothing more than an act of mating to you.” Her finger poked against his shoulder to emphasize her point. “You made me think that you cared for me, when last night meant nothing more to you than duty. You used me!”

He grabbed her hand before she could poke him again. “I did
not
use you last night, nor did I lie to you. And I would not have you belittle or diminish our wedding night, just because your feelings are hurt.”

“You just did both, and I don’t think your feelings are hurt in the least.” She gave him a challenging look. “What is your excuse?”

“You are being unreasonable, Lily.”

“Unreasonable because you have no more affection for me than you do for a bowl of fruit? I did not ask to be placed on a pedestal, but I did hope to rank higher in your affections than food. I wonder what else I must compete with for your regard. If you are comparing me to food, then I must rank a very poor second to the more important things in your life, such as a favorite pair of boots or an especially fine racehorse.”

He pulled her closer until their foreheads were almost touching. “That is not true, and you know it.”

“I know nothing of the sort.” She turned her head away from him, but he caught her chin and forced her to look up at him.

“I’ve never had the slightest desire to kiss a piece of fruit, or my boots, or a horse.”

Lily rolled her eyes. “My relief knows no bounds.”

His hand dropped to her waist, then he gave the curve of her hip a blatant caress. “I want you, Lily. In my life and in my bed, but I will not lie to get what I want by saying I am madly in love. You have my friendship, my respect, and my affections. Those are stable emotions that make for a stable marriage. I do not want a marriage based on something as fleeting and fickle as what you think of as love.”

“How can you be so cold and callous about emotions of the heart?”

He reached up and caught one of her tears on the tip of his finger, his expression grim as he rubbed the moisture between his finger and thumb. “I’ve learned that it’s best not to delude oneself about love.” The anger in his expression faded, leaving only regret. “Now I almost wish I had lied to you. The truth is painful. I’m sorry, Lily. Let me make it up to you. Let me show you that what we have is enough.”

Too late she realized his intent. He lowered his head and captured her lips. Slow and drugging, he caressed her mouth more than kissed it. The gentle, insistent pressure of his hand at the nape of her neck kept her from turning away, but he didn’t demand her response. He coaxed it from her. His hands stroked a path down her back, then tightened on her hips, drawing her closer to his heat. The intimate contact sent a spark of desire through her. She managed to pull away. “I don’t want to mate.”

He murmured his answer against the smooth column of her neck. “Neither do I. We are going to make love.”

“You can’t
make
love unless you are
in
love.” Her voice sounded almost frantic. The kisses he brushed against the hollow of her throat made her pulse beat faster and faster.

“You are wrong about that.”

The last of his words were smothered against her lips. He kissed her until her knees went weak, then he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed.

“I don’t think we should do this.” She wondered how he could keep kissing her while he undressed them both. “I would like some time to think over what you told me.”

“You can have all the time you want.” His hands continued to work at the fastenings of his breeches. “Tomorrow. In the coach.”

“I would like some time now.” She braced her hands against his shoulders, but her grip somehow turned into a caress. Even as her brows drew together in a frown, her hands brushed downward until she reached the round, flat discs of male nipples. They hardened instantly beneath her palms. Curious, she repeated the motion and he groaned. His dark eyes were lit by an inner fire and she knew his answer even before he shook his head.

“Tomorrow.”

He captured her mouth for another kiss and she forgot everything but the pleasure he gave her. He knew exactly how to increase her need, where to touch her, the places to kiss her. At the same time, he taught her how to give the pleasure she received until they both needed more. Then he caressed her with his entire body, deep and slow at first, both aware of every exquisite movement, his dark eyes locked with hers to focus entirely on their joining. He held her gaze for what seemed an impossible length of time, a trance that held her motionless as he moved inside her, the only sound an occasional gasp when he came too close to her core, too close to the flame that would soon engulf them both. He began to swell inside her, filling her more completely with each stroke. His incredible body became a contradiction; strength and power held in check, so gentle that the beauty and tenderness of his lovemaking brought tears to her eyes.

Her eyes widened and a sound of rapture escaped her lips to mingle with his masculine groan and still he held her gaze, letting her see the violent joy of his release. In that moment she finally understood the silent message he communicated with his body and with his eyes.

He’d just made love to her.

It was the hour before dawn. Not quite night, but not yet day. Remmington lay on his side to watch his wife sleep. He pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder while his hand explored the lush curves of her hip. She turned away from him, but shifted closer until she’d fit her body perfectly against his. He pressed another kiss against her shoulder as he continued his exploration. He wanted to know every part of her, the shape and structure of delicate bones and feminine curves, every inch of her velvety skin. He brushed his cheek against her hair and breathed deep of her scent, then held his breath to memorize that part of her as well.

In a different time and place he would keep her in his bed day and night until he cured himself of this constant need to touch her. But it wasn’t just lust that created that need. Just holding her gave him pleasure, a sense of contentment he’d never known.

In this time and place he couldn’t afford to indulge his odd whims. He brushed his lips across her shoulder once more, then forced himself away from her tempting warmth. The room was still more shadow than light, but enough light that he could study her face as he dressed, even as he wondered over his strange fascination with her.

“Lily?” He put his hand on her shoulder and gave her a gentle nudge. “Lily, it’s time to get dressed.”

Her lashes fluttered open and her lips curved into a sleepy smile. As her gaze traveled higher, so did the covers. By the time she met his gaze, she had the bed quilt pulled up to her chin, her enchanting smile no more than a memory. The wary light in her eyes made him frown.

He turned away to stuff the clothing he wore the day before into a satchel. “I’m going to find my men and make sure they are prepared to leave. Jack made arrangements last night to have an early breakfast made ready for us. I will return in no more than a quarter of an hour to take you downstairs for our meal.” He finished packing and turned to leave. “Be certain to bolt the door behind me.”

Remmington spared her only a brief glance before he left the room. Her somber expression made him feel guilty, reminded him of her unanswered declaration of love the night before. No matter how much she sulked, she wouldn’t change his mind or his feelings about this marriage. Lust and desire were all perfectly fine in bed, but he would not base their marriage on such flimsy foundations. He’d made that mistake once before, and if nothing else he was a man who learned from his mistakes. The heady emotions of her infatuation would fade soon enough. The day would come when she would wonder what she had ever seen in him to inspire such yearnings.

They would settle into a comfortable routine, he decided. One that would continue whenever she decided to come to her senses and realized that they were lucky to have affection and friendship between them, that few couples in society were as fortunate. They could be friends and confidants during the day, lovers at night. Only at night.

After all, he was not a man ruled by the fleeting emotions of passion. He could control the urge to go back to that room and make love to her for hours on end. He could ignore his body’s response to the sight of her sleepy, inviting smile. His restraint would prove the stability of his emotions. Getting her to Remmington Castle was much more important than his body’s momentary craving, and he wouldn’t let it distract him.

He waited outside their door until he heard her drive the bolt home, then he turned and made his way down the staircase. A handful of the inn’s patrons had opted for cheaper berths in the pub room, and the sounds of male snoring confirmed that most were still asleep. He paused for a moment at the bottom of the stairs and stared across the room to the door that led to the stables.

An hour or two’s delay wouldn’t put them seriously behind schedule. As Lily pointed out, they had a good day’s start on any notices that might reach the papers. Still, that wasn’t the only reason for his hurry. Remmington Castle had represented safety for countless generations of his family, and it seemed ingrained in him to seek the protection of the fortress in times of trouble. He wanted Lily away from danger, to a place where she would be safe from any threat.

An odd sensation tingled up his spine, followed by an urge to forget about the coach and return to his wife. This time it wasn’t lust, but a protective impulse to make sure she was all right. Just as he began to turn around, the door opened and two of his outriders stepped into the pub room.

Mindful of the other patrons, his men bowed a silent greeting. In a low voice, Remmington ordered the men to guard the door to his chamber until he returned. Even though he knew the door was safely locked, he didn’t want Lily alone in this place. For a moment he considered sending one of the men to the stables in his place, then decided that Lily might think he returned for something other than her safety. There was little doubt that she would be right.

Yesterday morning he’d nearly slit his own throat as he caught tantalizing glimpses of his wife while he shaved, his mirror at a perfect angle to watch her every movement. When she disappeared behind the dressing screen, he’d strained to hear each small sound she made. His imagination had conjured up the articles of clothing she donned, what they would feel like against her skin as she slipped them on, a delicious mental image of the parts of her they covered. When she stepped around the screen, fully clothed, he’d wanted nothing more than to strip her naked again. Slowly. Very, very slowly. The room upstairs lacked even a dressing screen. He could watch her as she dressed, look at every inch of her lovely body and remember what she felt like when he touched her. He could even touch her if he wanted. Oh, he would touch her, all right. He would wait until she had her clothing in place, each button fastened just so, then he would—

He would go to the stables. Right now. He had important business in the stables. He just couldn’t recall what it might be at the moment.

In the stables, Jack had already fed the horses and checked the harnesses and rigging. Remmington reviewed the map Jack carried in the coach as they discussed the day’s journey. Jack was extolling the virtues of a particular inn along their route when the stable door burst open, startling the horses as much as the men inside. It was one of the outriders he’d sent to guard Lily. The frantic expression on the outrider’s face brought Remmington to his feet.

“Your Grace! You must come immediately! We heard voices inside your room, and I knocked on the door to ask if everything was all right, and a man’s voice answered. He—he said to get away from the door or he would shoot your wife!”

Remmington was already running toward the inn, the outrider blurting out the story behind him. He raced through the public room to the stairway and bounded up the steps three at a time. Their door was at the end of the hallway and a few curious guests stood in the corridor, as well as the innkeeper, who wore a worried expression. He tried to stop Remmington as he passed, but Remmington pushed him aside, so forcefully that the man slammed against the wall.

The second outrider stood in front of the bedchamber’s door, both pistols drawn, one ear pressed against the solid oak. As soon as he caught sight of Remmington, he stepped away from the doorway.

“He’s been carrying on in there since Tom went to fetch you,” he said in a hushed voice. “He keeps telling your wife that he is here to save her.”

“Give me your cloak,” Remmington ordered. “And your pistols.” While the outrider stripped off his cloak, he turned to the innkeeper. “Did anyone ask about us after we arrived last night?”

“Aye.” The innkeeper rubbed his dazed head. “About an hour after you arrived, a gentleman showed up and said he was your cousin, that he wanted a room near yours so he could find you this morning.” He pointed to the room directly across the hall from Remmington’s. “I put him in there. He looked like a gentleman and he sounded on the up-and-up. I swear, I never would have—”

Remmington cut him off with a single glare. He swung the outrider’s cloak over his shoulders, then took the pistols, the one in his right hand held in plain sight. The cloak covered his left arm and concealed the other pistol. He stepped closer to the door. “Lily? Are you all right?”

For a moment there was silence, then a man’s voice called out. “Is that you, Remmington?”

“Yes.” Remmington’s mouth drew to a thin line. The voice sounded familiar, but he couldn’t put a face to it. With a nod of his head, he gave his outrider a silent order to open the door. “I’m coming inside.”

The door was unlocked, and the outrider pushed it open before the man inside the room could object. Remmington stepped through the doorway and braced himself for what he would find on the other side.

Lily stood near the center of the room, dressed in her nightgown and robe. Her assailant stood behind her, holding her by the hair, the muzzle of his pistol pressed against her temple.

His heart stopped beating.

A strange sense of calm washed over him, bringing the two people before him into sharp focus. Everything else in the room faded into a gray haze at the edge of his vision, every fiber of his being attuned to the man who threatened Lily. He saw Lily’s head jerk back, pulled by the vicious grip on her hair. That act stirred an emotion he’d never experienced, couldn’t identify. It began in his chest, a strange coiling sensation like that of a snake ready to strike. His entire body tensed, every muscle aware of what it must do, his entire being focused on the enemy. He’d never felt so in control.

He cocked his right arm so the pistol angled harmlessly toward the ceiling, then he pushed the door closed with one foot. He even smiled at the man who held his wife. “Good morning, Lord Allen. I believe a few explanations are in order.”

“Place your pistol on the floor, Remmington.”

The order came as no surprise. The look of desperation in George Allen’s eyes made him comply with the demand. He lowered the weapon to the floor without making any sudden movements. He straightened again in the same fluid motion and waited, his gaze fixed on the center of Allen’s forehead. He wouldn’t so much as glance at Lily. The look of terror he’d glimpsed in her face would break his concentration.

“I’m taking her away from you,” Allen said, his defiant words at odds with the way his voice quavered.

The threat didn’t disturb Remmington. He knew Allen would not leave this room alive.

Allen’s voice rose to a near-hysterical pitch. “You will never put your filthy hands on her again, Remmington. I saved her from Osgoode, and I’ll save her from you. She’s mine now. She will always be mine.”

Somehow he knew he had to keep Allen talking, that speaking in a rational tone would calm him down enough to move the gun away from Lily’s head. Yet a new fear took hold, one he hadn’t considered until that moment. In Allen’s nervous excitement, he might accidentally tighten his grip on the trigger. Remmington summoned every ounce of his control to keep his voice composed, his expression bland. “You don’t have to go to such drastic measures, Allen. You are frightening Lily. I’m unarmed now. Take the gun away from her head and we can discuss the situation like gentlemen.”