Silk and Scandal (10 page)

But worrying over that now, as she sat drenched upon her horse, was not an option.

A small outbuilding set near the house. She urged her mount close then managed to slide from the horse before taking the reins and leading him inside the barn. There was a hole in the roof but it would suffice as shelter until they could again be on their way back to London. Eliza removed the saddle then gave Majesty a quick rub on his silky nose. “I shall return for you soon, my lad,” she whispered before dashing back into the rain.

Mrs. Brown’s cottage was a quick sprint away and, uncaring of propriety, she lifted her skirts slightly and began to run. That strange uneasy feeling swept over her again. She paused to spare a glance toward a nearby copse of trees then screeched aloud as a rough hand grabbed her from behind. A slender blade pressed to her throat as the fetid breath of the man who’d accosted her hit her nostrils. The villain’s fleshy belly pressed against her back.

“Here she be, Shorty. The ‘igh falutin’ miss we been lookin’ fer.” He laughed against her cheek. “Him wat hired me will be mighty ‘appy with this days work.”

Hired?

Only Stanhope would dare such a thing!

She fought against the man’s hold but he only laughed and pressed the blade against the flesh of her throat. Twas no use! Eliza thought of the pistol she carried in a concealed pocket in her gown but there was no way to retrieve it. Another man, this one quite thin, stepped into view. He grinned at her through rotten teeth and stared at her as rain ran in rivulets over his grimy face. “A good bit o’work, Mott. Now stick her so we can get our pay from the nob. A pint of ale be waitin’ fer me in London.”

“I will pay you more not to kill me,” she managed. “Release me now and my father will see to it.”

The man who held her went still and slowly the blade was removed from dangerous proximity to her throat. Her heart pounded a relentless tattoo as she struggled to regulate her breathing.

Never had she been more terrified.

Alone in the country with no help near!

How could she have allowed herself to assume such a position of weakness?

The villain moved from behind her enabling her first look at him. Much like his partner, he was a filthy, ragged cretin. He stared at her as if considering her proposal and all the while she inched her fingers closer to the pocket that contained her weapon. He opened his mouth to speak but then the lot of them looked up as a madman on horseback rushed toward them with a wild cry.

The the madman in question was Duke Weston.

Unbridled relief claimed her. How he’d managed to be in exactly the right place at the right time wasn’t something she would question at the moment. He was here and that was all that mattered. Before any of them could react, Nicholas leaped from the back of his horse and grabbed the first villain he encountered. The hapless skinny man with the rotten teeth was helpless against the fist that landed on his cheek. Propelled to the ground, he rolled then managed to re-gain his footing and began to race toward the copse of trees where, no doubt, mounts waited.

Eliza frantically reached into her pocket to retrieve her pistol as Mott turned to run as well but Nicholas grabbed him and landed a solid punch to the man’s belly. Her fingers brushed the steely surface of the weapon. She pulled it free from the clinging fabric of her gown but her hands shook so badly, it fell to the muddy ground. Nicholas stood over the villain, his hands fisted, then spared her a glance. His eyes narrowed. “You are bleeding.”

She was?

Nicholas stalked from the writhing Mott and touched her throat. It wasn’t until he removed his fingers that she saw she had, in fact, been pricked by the knife. A pinkish-red color showed upon his hand.

“I am fine.”

The Duke scowled then faced Mott again and together they watched as the villain raced off into the woods. Eliza rushed up to grab his arm as Nicholas prepared to give chase. “Let him go. Please. I have had quite enough.”

Beneath her palm, his muscles relaxed yet she knew without any question that had she not stopped him, Nicholas would have pursued. A crack of lightning rent the air and the Duke’s mount whinnied, pawing the air in distress as if to emphasize her concerns. Nicholas turned to look at her. “Are you in pain?”

“Merely a scratch, I assure you. Let us go inside.”

He nodded. “Yes. Go ahead. I will see to my horse.”

As he turned to go, she rushed to thank him. “Yet again, you saved the day. How can I repay you?”

“Reserve your thanks, Miss, until I reveal what my reward shall be,” he finally said before turning away.

Eliza hurried through the mud and the muck left by the foul weather then entered the quiet cottage. It wasn’t until she leaned against the closed door in relief that she allowed his words to roll slowly through her mind. Reward?

This did not sound good at all.

Chapter Eight

Upon entering the small cottage, Nicholas immediately surmised that though the place was uninhabited, it had been recently cleaned. Someone had once lived here and lovingly tended it still. Curious about the owner of the cottage, he took in a long, rectangular table at the far end of the room and studied a grouping of chairs near the cold fireplace. A heavy, crudely carved mantel was devoid of pictures and bric-a-brac.  Eliza was nowhere in sight and he could only assume she was somewhere behind the closed door that sat to his right. Nicholas shifted against the discomfort of his drenched clothing and set about peeling his sodden coat and waistcoast from his body. He draped both articles, along with his shirt across the immense table and after tugging his boots off, went about the business of building a fire to ward off the chill of the place.

It wasn’t his intention to shock the lady currently hiding out in the adjoining room but neither was he prepared to become ill. In any event, it was far too late in the game for modesty between the lovely miss and himself. Despite the innocence of their current situation, she was well and truly compromised. A lady of breeding who shared secluded country cottages, even if only for a moment, with a bachelor gentleman was doomed to wed him whether she wished it or no.

A smile curled upon his lips as he continued to stoke the small fire into greater heights.

Yes, she was well and truly caught now but Nicholas had no desire to discuss the situation at the moment. She’d been traumatized enough. Rising to his full height, he leaned an arm against the rough mantel. The lady suffered more near-misses than anyone he had yet to meet. Wedding her as quickly as possible would solve the dilemma. He turned to face the closed door and walked barefoot across the planked floors. Best deal with the current situation. The rest could wait. He rapped sharply.

“Hand me your gown.”

“I beg your pardon,” she said from behind the door.

Nicholas grinned at the affront in her voice. “I intend no debauchery, believe me. I only know those sodden clothes will invite the ague. I don’t wish you to become ill.”

“Oh. I see.”

His grin widened. “Do you need assistance? I can come─”

“No! No, um, I can manage.”

He stepped away from the door. Quite fervently, he wished to remove his wet breeches but he wasn’t quite so insensitive as to embarrass the lady further. He would be dry soon enough. Hoping to hasten that occurrence, he approached the warm firm again to ponder the problem of one Lord Stanhope who seemed intent on harming his intended. Deep in thought, he started a bit as a door creaked open and he turned to see a disheveled Eliza framed in the doorway.

Even in disarray, she was lovely, her auburn hair down and curling wildly. Her ivory shoulders were bare above a hastily knotted bedsheet that hid her body from view. She looked down momentarily and then gazed around the room before finally meeting his eyes. “Thank you,” she said softly. “It seems once again you have saved me from villains.”

Smiling, he sketched a short bow. “At your service. My friends call me Saint Nicholas behind my back.” He crossed the short distance to her and cognizant of her embarrassment, gently took her hand. “Come sit near the fire. We shall both be dry and comfortable soon enough.”

As Eliza gingerly sat, apparently careful not to dislodge the sheet, she smiled a little. “It cannot occur soon enough, Your Grace.”

Nicholas took a chair beside her and waited. It did not take long.

“How did you manage to come to my aid so easily?” she asked. “Were you following me?”

“In truth, yes. When I arrived at your home to find you’d hared off for parts unknown, I promised your distraught parents that I would find you, fetch you, and bring you back to the nest.”

“How gallant of you.”

“Oddly, there is no sarcasm in your voice.”

She shook her head. “It was unseemly of me to leave that way but, you see, you continually press me, push me. I had had enough, sir.”

“And your solution was to leave with no escort? After what happened to you in Hyde Park?”

“It was stupid. I was ridiculous. But I do not care for feeling trapped.”

Eliza refused to look at him and simply gazed at her hands. They were fisted in her lap. Her shame and regret was palpable in the quiet room. A log sizzled and cracked in the fireplace as a fat tear landed on the back of her hand. “Those men might have killed me.”

Enough!

He stood and, not wishing to stand dominantly over her, kneeled near her chair and took her hand. He pressed it too his lips astonished that the taste of her tears could move him so. “Your tears unman me. Please don’t torture yourself with recriminations at this point. Just be happy you are safe. I’ll let no one harm you.”

“You must think me an awful harridan,” she said with a sniff.

“I think you sweet. I believe, Miss, that you carefully hide that sweetness and gentleness of heart from the world but one can only continue a masquerade for a while. It is quite obvious to me that you are brave and fearless yet believe no one can save you.”

She met his gaze. “And you shall save me?”

“Yes. I will save you from anyone who would harm you, and yes, my dear, I will save you from yourself.”

“Perhaps that is a good thing but I have reservations.”

“Ah, well, reservations.” Nicholas stood and, using his fingertips, swept the tears from her cheeks. He smiled slightly then returned to his chair. “As to that, we have been well and truly caught. You realize, do you not, that you are a compromised lady. You would bring shame not only to me but to yourself and your family if you did not promise to wed me posthaste.”

She nodded and made a small sound, somewhat a cross between a squeak and a sigh. “Mm.”

“Would it be so terrible to marry me?”

Eliza shook her head and looked at him. For the first time since she’d entered the room, she appeared to notice is state of undress. Her eyes lingered on his neck and his bare chest and it was obvious from the slight widening of her eyes, that she’d never seen such a thing as a man’s near-nakedness. His body reacted. His muscles tightened and every nerve ending went on alert. Only the cloying discomfort of his wet breeches prevented a full-on erection.

Damn and blast!

He was no monk.

Nicholas wanted her beyond bearing but neither would he frighten her with his lust. Wedded
then
bedded. He did not want to begin their lives in any way other than what was proper and right. He wanted no regrets between himself and his bride.

It served no purpose to continue with this perilous topic when he wanted her beneath him in bed so badly. He blew out a slow breath and prayed for strength. She was the very vision of untamed loveliness. Soon, he vowed. Soon he’d have her but now there were questions that required an answer.

“Do you know the former owners of this cottage?”

“I do,” she said. “A friend raised her family here and she keeps it in order in the event one of her children may someday want it.” A crack of lightning sounded outside the walls of the cozy house and Eliza jerked, shook her head, and then continued. “Mrs. Brown is an old and dear friend who moved when her husband passed. I know this place well so when the storm began and raced here for safety.”

“But found villains awaiting you instead.”

“Yes. Quite unfortunate.” Her hair had begun to dry leaving heavy curls behind. They framed her face to perfection and Nicholas longed to touch to see if they were as soft as they appeared. In an attempt to train his thoughts elsewhere, he gazed into the fire.

“Do you suppose your friend had the forethought to leave tea in one of her cupboards?”

Eliza looked up, alertness brimming in her eyes. She stood. “Allow me to look. It shall occupy my mind until the storm passes and we can return to London.”

Nicholas watched her examine shelves and compartments then heard her delighted exclamation as she turned clutching a bottle of brandy. “Tis perfect. Not tea but this should warm us. Shall we?”

He smiled, happy to see her at ease. Standing he took the unopened bottle while she fetched two glasses. When finally filled them and pressed one into her hand, he watched her examine the contents and then sniff gingerly. The smile she gave him was sunshine bright. Without hesitation, she tossed back the contents. Instantly her eyes filled and she struggled for breath. “Oh my,” she finally managed as tears fell unheeded down her cheeks. “That was delicious.”

You, my dear, are delicious!

He dared not speak the words that blasted through his brain.

What a fascinating woman. Eliza was prickly on the outside and soft within, every nuance encased in a beautiful package that practically begged to be opened. How fortunate that he’d be gifted soon. He could barely contain the pleasure he felt at nearing his goal. She was about more than winning a ridiculous bet or gaining an inheritance. So much more. Eliza was the sort who would never bore him and always enchant.

Following her lead, he tossed the fiery drink down his throat, set the glass aside and moved close. He took her glass as her gaze turned wary, confused. She was a woman who thought entirely too much, examined each little thing with the precision of a surgeon and Nicholas didn’t want that from her. Not now. He wanted what every man wanted. He wanted to taste his bride.

“And I suspect you taste as sweet as the brandy.” He raised his hand, cupped her cheek and heard the intake of her breath as he leaned close. “I must know. Forgive me but I must kiss you,” he whispered before brushing his lips over hers in a touch as soft as butterfly wings. Again and again, he teased her until that simple teasing was not enough. Eliza gasped in his mouth as he pulled her close and tasted her with a hunger he’d never know before. He’d had women aplenty in his wild and frivolous youth but nothing compared with the feel of this woman in his arms. The thin barrier of cotton barely contained the hard peaks of her nipples and he felt them like a brand against his chest.  He skin was soft…so soft. It felt like down beneath his fingers as he stroked her throat, her shoulders, and down the length of her arm. Her fingers entwined with his as the kiss carried them into the realm of an uncontainable passion.

This was completely inappropriate but he could not stop. It seemed he’d waited forever for this particular woman and now he had her in his arms.

Plunging his tongue deep, increasing the strength of his hold on her lush body, Nicholas drank her down, inhaled her, as the craving for her grew. He changed the angle of the kiss and if he’d been the begging sort of man, would have gone to his knees before her.

“Nicholas, I─”

“Tell me to stop and I will though I vow it shall kill me to do so. You are the sweetest treasure,” he whispered, stunned by the rusty quality of his voice.

“I should. I should but find I am weak in your arms. What in heaven’s name have you done to me? I have vowed to need no man but just a kiss, just a touch makes me someone I have never met before.”

Nicholas filled his hands with her breasts and had the pleasure of watching her eyes close. A look of rapture, of bliss settled upon her fine features as he plied her flesh. The sheet loosened exposing her further to his touch, his gaze. A shiver shook her but he suspected it was not the chill in the air that made her tremble so. He bent to take one pink-tipped nipple into his mouth. Sucking gently at first, then stronger, he reveled in the sound of Eliza’s broken breathing, the gasping little sounds she made. Moving to the other breast, loving the temptation of her naked body pressed against him, he drew his tongue over the hardened tip, sucking the morsel with bursts of suction that made Eliza cry out.

“Tell me to stop,” he breathed against her damp nipple. “Tell me now or, by God, there will be no turning back.”

“You shall hear no refusal from my lips. What have you done to me?”

He lifted her into his arms and turned toward the open bedroom door. She was soft and pliant against his chest and willing to let him take her. This wasn’t how he wished their first time to be…here in a stranger’s house but it would have to do. At this moment, he had no choice. The demands of his body overrode what good sense he yet possessed.

Suddenly a loud series of raps sounded upon the front door and he halted mid-stride. Eliza stiffened in his arms and without hesitation he allowed her to regain her footing. Putting a finger to his lips, he motioned for her to go inside the bedroom. When she obeyed, a frantic look in her eyes, Nicholas went to the front door, opened it, and peered out into the gloomy late-afternoon. The storm had abated and he’d not noticed. Little wonder that.

A small woman stood framed in the entrance a look of surprise stamped upon her face as she lowered her fist. He instantly recognized Eliza’s maid.  “’Tis sorry I am, Your Grace, to disturb you, but is Lady Eliza Grayson here? I am her maid, Pandora, and I must speak with her immediately.”

“As luck would have it, she is. Do come in. We retreated from the storm on our way back to London. Have you come from there?”

“No, I have come from up the road.” Gravitating to the fire’s warmth, she held out her hands and stared toward the bedroom door, suspicion bright in her eyes. It wasn’t difficult to see the little maid harbored secrets she was reluctant to reveal. Finally, she relented. “I have been with her since we set out this morning. She visited friends near here.” She turned to face him. “When I noticed foul weather approaching, I asked her not to go but she is stubborn.”