Seducing the Rake (Mad, Bad and Dangerous Heroes) (50 page)

Chessy’s breath caught.

They were overlooking the whole valley, all clinging mist and soft, diffuse sunlight as if in a Constable painting. Here and there were scattered cottages of local flint, while sheep grazed everywhere, right up to the front doors. But most impressive of all was the sky, luminous and infinite, stretching away forever until it merged with the faint shimmer of water on the horizon.

And then Chessy saw the glint of sunshine on mullioned windows, saw the warm yellow stone that glowed just across the vale.

Morland looked rueful and charmingly uncertain.

“Sevenoaks. I wanted you to see it first from here. It’s most beautiful seen across the valley like this, I think. And I-I wanted you to like it.”

“Oh, Tony, it’s—it’s lovely.”

“Do you think so? I hoped that you would.” His brow furrowed. “I know it will be utterly different from Macao, and that there will be many adjustments for you to make, but—”

Chessy hushed him by instinct, lifting herself against him and covering his lips with hers.

Instantly his hands tightened. His mouth opened, warm and hungry and searching. In the space of a heartbeat horse, house, and rolling landscape were forgotten as their tongues met.

Desire flamed between them, lush and sultry. Finally, with a low oath, Morland pulled himself away. “Sweet Lord, Miss Cameron, but you
do
pick your moments.”

Her only answer was a soft moan as she eased closer and nibbled delicately at his lower lip.

He groaned. His hand slid into her dark hair, everything forgotten but the heat of their desire.

It was the restless sidestepping of the horse that dragged them back to sanity. The bay neighed, jerking softly at the reins, ears high and alert.

Morland muttered harshly and slid Chessy back to a more secure position before him, then bent down to stroke the horse’s neck. “What is it, girl? Is there something—”

He never had a chance to finish. The next second, a rifle cracked from the underbrush and a bullet whined past his face.

The big bay reared wildly, pawing at the air and nearly hurling Chessy to the ground. Morland gripped the horse, fighting to hold her.

Damn it, which of the servants would be fool enough to shoot blind into the underbrush?

But with the next instant he knew the answer. Not one of his servants at all. The shot had been no accident.

The horse danced in tight, restless circles under Morland’s rein, and another shot broke from the forest to their left.

Cursing, he spurred the mare forward, channeling the animal’s fear into action before it could rear again.

Over the green woodland they crashed, with boughs and twigs slapping their faces as Tony raced the horse at a gallop just short of foolhardy. Chessy’s face was pale, but she made no sound as she clung to his waist.

Behind them came the sharp snap of small branches and the drum of hooves, but Morland knew every inch of this land and had a thousand places to hide.

He cut down a narrow shepherd’s path, then reined in sharply, sheltered behind a granite outcropping overhung with densely clustered azaleas.

And there they waited, breaths drawn, while a faint cloud of steam rose from the flanks of the great bay. Petals of white and crimson rained over them, carried on the wind from the bushes overhead, but that was the only movement in their green bower.

Behind them all sound ceased. Now there was no sign of their pursuers.

The silence stretched out, broken only by the low rush of the wind through the giant oaks and the bay’s steady breathing.

And then some instinct made Morland pull back farther beneath the rocky overhang. The same instinct that had saved his life at Badajoz and Salamanca made him reach down and stroke the horse’s neck, whispering soft words to soothe the restless mount.

A moment later, just beyond the granite cliff face, just beyond a shimmering green bank of willow fronds, a rider slid into the sunlight, rifle leveled before him.

The sight, coming amid the silence and the softly falling rain of azalea petals had all the raw impact of a nightmare.

Morland tensed, but his fingers never ceased their slow stroking of the mare’s neck. Somehow they quieted the great horse when it seemed just on the verge of launching into a nervous dance.

A dance that would have given Chessy and Morland’s hiding place away instantly and spelled their death.

For now a second rider appeared, coldly professional in his dispassionate survey of the surrounding forest. They were at point-blank range now, and if the riders had spotted them, Tony would have had no chance to tug his own rifle from its pouch at his saddle.

So they waited, scarcely daring to breathe, while yards away, the riders slid through the slanting light of the great forest, silent and lethal amid the cheerful clamor of bird cry and rustling leaves.

Chessy watched in numb horror, her breath locked deep in her throat.

So close. Once again, so close to dying…

After what seemed an eternity of waiting the men disappeared back into the foliage. For long moments neither Chessy nor Morland spoke; his fingers simply continued their smooth, rhythmic movements against the bay’s neck.

And then he looked down at Chessy. Her eyes were huge and bewildered.

“Steady, love,” he whispered. “It’s not far now.”

Even through her haze of shock and fear, Chessy noticed that he continued to whisper.

So they were still in danger. And this was no random attack of poachers, not disgruntled peasantry nor reckless highwaymen abroad by day.

“Ready?”

Chessy nodded, swallowing her fear and the thousand questions that were choking her.

Morland’s eyes seemed to flare with fury as he saw how much the motion cost her. “Good girl,” he whispered, his hand pressed to the curve of her cheek. And then his arm fell, catching her waist tightly as he nudged the bay around, back in the direction from which they had come.

Chessy did not ask why or where but only pressed close to Morland’s chest, sick with shame for having brought such danger down upon him.

For it was obvious that the riders were pursuing
her,
not him. Equally obvious was that they were commanded by the same people who had sent her attacker on the rooftop.

Tears burned at her throat, and she bit them back in taut silence.

 ~ ~ ~

They backtracked and zigzagged for what seemed like hours, keeping to shepherds’ paths and the deepest part of the forest, following tracks that Morland had known since he was a boy. Once they heard the crack of a gun several hundred yards away, and Morland eased the bay into the shadows behind a huge, twisting yew tree.

The grass hissed. Again a rider appeared, moving quietly through the slanting sunlight.

Morland’s hand tightened on Chessy’s waist. She felt the force of rage slam through him.

But he did not move, and the rider melted back into the cheerful green forest.

By then, Morland’s face was very harsh. For Tony had seen what Chessy could not have: These men knew the hills and streams of Sevenoaks nearly as well as
he
did.

And that thought worried him most of all.

~ ~ ~

The sun was past mid-heaven when they finally cantered up the gravel avenue leading to the Jacobean house at the head of the valley.

Chessy was pale and tired, too tired to find warmth in the lovely walls of native stone and the banks of mullioned windows that crowned the south front overlooking the valley.

“Home.” Morland’s voice was soft in her ear. He let the horse go and thundered up the last yards to the house.

Gravel flew up as the great oaken door opened, and Elspeth and Jeremy flew out, with the duchess and James Cameron close behind.

“There you are, Uncle Tony!” Elspeth’s face was intent. “We beat you home by ages!” And then her cornflower-blue eyes widened. “What—what’s wrong with Miss Chessy? Why is she … bleeding?”

Only then did Chessy realize her ankle was slick and cold. Blinking, she stared down at the dark red stain at her hem. She hadn’t felt the bullet graze her, hadn’t even realized she’d been hit until now.

She managed a reassuring smile for the worried child. “It’s just a scrape from a branch, Elspeth. I’m afraid I urged your uncle to take the last hill recklessly fast.”

His eyes dark, Chessy’s father moved to the dancing horse and lifted her down. Chessy shivered and accepted his arm as she moved up the drive to the house.

Morland slid from the great bay and tossed the reins to Jeremy, who was staring at the blood on Chessy’s gown. “It’s nothing,” he said softly. “But the horse is winded. Will you see that she’s brushed and bedded down?”

Jeremy swallowed and seemed to rouse himself from some sort of dark reverie. “Of course.” He turned to his white-faced sister. “Come along to the stables with me, Elspeth. We’ll find some sugar for Storm.”

But as her brother moved off, Elspeth stood white-faced, overlooked by the sober adults moving off toward the house.

“She’s going to die, isn’t she?” Elspeth asked softly, of no one in particular. And no one seemed to hear her when she clutched her doll to her chest and whispered, “They all die.”

~ ~ ~

“Where did it happen?”

James Cameron watched grimly as Morland ran a pad of white gauze over Chessy’s ankle.

The bullet had left a jagged red path four inches long, but thankfully it had not pierced deeply or the bone would have been shattered.

“Just at the ridge where we left you. There were two of them, both armed. And they were waiting for us.”

Cameron muttered a graphic curse. “Did you recognize them? Were they local poachers?”

Morland gave him a swift, warning look.

Chessy saw that look and knew that he did not want the subject broached in front of her.

More secrets. More deceptions.

She closed her eyes as the pain bit deep. She had hoped it was over, that the future could finally begin for the two of them.

But now she knew it was not to be, not with the Triads still involved. Not until she found the wretched book that would set them all free.

“There, that looks clean enough.” Morland gave the wound a final critical look, then lapped several lengths of gauze around it. “I’m afraid you’re not going to be able to dangle from any roofs for several days, my dear.”

But the awkward joke, kindly meant, only made Chessy shiver.

For she had discovered what it meant to be afraid, there in the quiet wood as she had ridden pressed to Morland’s chest. Not afraid for herself, but for Tony and the two children, who came into grave danger simply by their association with her.

Chessy had never before known the full, blinding sense of fear, not since she had taken up the disciplines of Shao-lin.

But for Morland and her father’s sake, she tried to hide the blankness in her eyes, the quiver that shook her fingers. “You’re probably right. I suppose that means no acrobatics either?”

Morland studied her face, undeceived by her forced effort at humor. “Only one sort of acrobatics,” he said softly, too softly for her father to hear. “And that will be with me, Cricket. In my bed. With my arms secure around you.”

Her lips trembled at the harsh need she read in his eyes.

Then her father coughed. “Let her sleep, Morland. That’s what she needs now. And in the meantime I’d like a word with you. Outside, in the corridor.” It was a command, hard and clear.

Tony tucked a quilt around Chessy and settled her leg at a more comfortable angle. “Better?”

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

“Go to sleep. I’ll be back in a few minutes. And then I’ll stay here with you, so you needn’t worry.”

She swallowed audibly and managed a smile. “I won’t.”