Son of a Duke (17 page)

Did they care for one another?
 

Nora recalled the look on Nathan's face as he had said he wanted to be able to protect her.
 
Such a look did not come from a person who did not care, but what was it that had made him look so afraid?
 
Nathan had never been anything but strong and resolute when he had been with her.
 
What had made him so suddenly unsure?

She laid her hand against her forehead.
 
She did not have the energy to worry about such things.
 
Her mind kept reeling back to Samuel, leaving her exhausted when she had much to do before she could leave.
 

Her son had been kidnapped.
 
By big blokes with guns.
 
She should be filled with panic, brimming over with the stuff so that it made her shoes sticky.
 
But she was not feeling panic.
 
She was not feeling much of anything.
 

Someone else was taking care of her now.
 

And that someone else had very explicitly told her to pack.
 

So she did.
 

CHAPTER EIGHT

Nathan remained objective as he followed Michael to the stables.
 
If he let the turbulence boiling inside him get out of control, he would be of no use to anyone.
 
And Nora needed him right now.
 
He could not let his emotions, past or present, sweep him up until he could no longer think on the current situation.
 
If Samuel truly had been taken, their time was limited.
 
They needed to do everything in their power to get him back quickly and safely.
 

Nathan's hands itched with the memory of the softness of Nora's hair, her long slender back, what it felt like to grab a hold of her and pull her toward him.
 
It had felt so natural, so real, so perfect.
 
He did not know loving a person could come so easily.
 
For love was what he was afraid he was beginning to feel.
 
In a few stolen moments and one short week, he knew he was dangerously close to falling for Nora Quinton.
 
That alone was a prospect he did not want to think on in general let alone now.
 
He could not care for Nora as his wife on a War Office salary, and she deserved no less respect than that of an honest woman.
 

But the feel of her body against his radiated through him like nothing ever had, and he feared he would never be rid of that memory.
 
It would plague him for the many long, dark nights his life held ahead of him.
 
And for now, he needed to find Samuel.
 

The boy was smart and pragmatic.
 
He knew more about life than Nathan had at his age certainly and probably more than he cared to admit now.
 
But he was still a child, and he would think on emotion more often than not.
 
Nathan had to get to him before something made Samuel react unknowingly, causing his captors to respond in kind.

Nathan surveyed the ground that spanned the distance between the back of the house and the stables, but the solid ground showed no signs of anything that had transpired mere moments before.
 
The lack of rain was not helpful.
 
Not a drop for near on three days.
 

While Michael continued toward the stables, Nathan turned abruptly, looking back at the house to find the window that looked into Nora's chambers.
 
It was one of only three on the lower level, and Nathan made his way over to it.
 
He was careful not to look inside.
 
He had left Nora abruptly just minutes before, and although he was certain she had the strength to get through this, he was not so certain he did.
 
The memory of another woman and her sorrow flashed in his mind, and he took a sharp breath.
 
There were certain things that made a woman cry that Nathan could not understand, did not want to understand.
 
For once upon a very long time ago, he had been unable to help another woman's sorrow, and the memory still pained him.
 

But even more than the ghost of pain, the idea that he would not be able to help Nora now, help erase the sorrow that hung on her like a heavy cloak, that uncertainty gnawed at his stomach, churning his surety like a violent storm on the sea.
 
He could not let her down.

He scanned the ground around the window, letting his eyes scan up to the wooden sill and around the frame of the window, but there was nothing.
 
No footprints and no discarded clothing or fibers stuck in the cracked wood of the sill.
 
He turned away from the window in disgust, having no more idea of the size of the men, or woman, they were dealing with.
 
He did not know if they were wearing fine leather Hessians or worn work boots, something that would have helped place the person in a social class that could then be dissected for clues.
 
But Nathan had nothing.
 

He walked back to the stables and the cobbled alley that ran between the houses on this block.
 
It was all stone for as far as he could see once he stepped past the small gardens at the back of the house.
 

"Did they have a carriage, Michael?" Nathan asked approaching the man as he shuffled his feet just inside the stable.

Michael sniffed into a handkerchief as he huddled not quite in and not quite out of the stables.
 

"Na, sir.
 
Not 'ere they didna.
 
'Haps down the way further."
 

Michael pointed over his shoulder in the direction of the street.
 
Nathan followed the line of the other man's finger and watched the traffic of the street pass across the space between the row of houses.

Nathan nodded even as he was moving.
 
His boots sent echoes down the length of the alley to come ringing back at him.
 
He watched the ground, saw the places where the cobbles heaved or where they had sunk in.
 
A cat wandered across his path and disappeared completely into a pile of rubbish.
 
He skirted a stack of carts beside the stable of the neighboring house.
 
The carts smelled rather suspicious, and Nathan wrinkled his nose at them even as he kept moving.
 

Nathan kicked something with his boot and looked down.
 

It was a four of clubs playing card.
 

He picked it up and stared at it a moment, turning the card over in his hand several times.
 
And then he ran.
 

He made it to the cross street quicker than he thought he would.
 
Traffic suddenly moved directly in front of him, and it surprised him enough to make him stop.
 
He looked around.
 
Fine carriages and the occasional hack.
 
Nathan crunched the four of clubs in his hand and turned back around.
 

He almost knocked over the street urchin who had approached him.
 

"Beggin' yer pardon, sir, I 'ave a message for ye."
 
The boy held out an empty hand.
 

"How much will this message cost?"
 
Nathan gave the boy a look.

The boy glared right back.
 
"What 'ave ye got in yer pockets, sir?"

Nathan grabbed the only money he had out of his pocket.
 
It was only a pence, but he did not have to tell the boy that.
 
He made it look like more and held out a closed fist.
 
The boy reached, but Nathan drew the fist back.
 

"Message?"

The boy watched the fist.
 
"The message is stay out o' this.
 
It ain't of yer concern."

"That it?"

The boy nodded.
 
"Aye, that's it."
 

The boy lunged for Nathan's fist prying it open.
 
The pence fell to the ground.
 
The boy dove for it and stood up.
 

"This is it?" the boy squeaked, incredulously.
 

Nathan shrugged.
 
"You said what I had in my pockets."

He turned and walked back to Gregenden House, the four of clubs held tightly in his hand.

~

Nora had been packed for three minutes.
 

She had heard the seconds count off in her head.
 
She was at three minutes and thirty-one seconds when Nathan finally came back through the door.
 
She shot out of the chair she had been pretending to sit in, carpetbag beside her like a soldier's rifle.
 

Nathan stopped and raised his eyebrows at her.
 

"You packed," he said.
 

"You told me to pack."
 

Nathan nodded, looking none too convinced.

"You put your hair back."
 
He pointed in the general direction of her head.
 

She patted the white hat gently to see if it was in place.
 

"Yes, I did."
 
She stopped patting when her hand began to tremble.
 
"Did you find anything?" She asked, although she was not sure she wanted the answer.
 
"Did you find Samuel?"
 

She could not decipher the expression on Nathan's face just then.
 
It looked like something, and if not regret, than resignation.
 
It was as if Nathan was preparing himself for something he did not entirely wish to do.
 
For a brief second, Nora felt a pang of uneasiness.
 
It was not as if Nathan was here by choice.
 
He was
 
a professional.
 
He had been sent to complete a job, and then something had happened to escalate the situation, and he-

Oh god, she had kissed him.
 

Nathan would likely have been gone before Samuel had been taken if she had not lingered with him there in her chambers.
 
He would have been out of this situation entirely if it were not for her and her unpredictable emotions.
 
She felt herself shrink inward, and she must have made a motion, because Nathan suddenly stepped in front of her, his hands going to her shoulders.
 
The warmth of his touch burned through her gown, and she welcomed the pressure on her shoulders.
 
She watched him, her breath frozen in her chest.

"I did not find him, Nora.
 
They were long gone by the time I got out to the stables.
 
However, I believe Samuel left us a clue."

He released one of her shoulders to dig something out of his pocket.
 
She waited expectantly before he held up a wrinkled playing card.

"The four of clubs?" she asked when she could see the card.

Nathan nodded, returning the card to his pocket.
 

"Four of clubs," he confirmed, moving his now free hand back to her shoulder.
 
He squeezed gently.
 
"I just do not know what it means."
 

"Why do you think he dropped that card?"
 

He watched her, but she could tell he was thinking deeply, not entirely seeing that she stood before him.

"I do not know, but why exactly did he drop that card and not another one?
 
Was it truly a clue or was the card simply lost in the scuffle?
 
But then why did he not drop all of the cards?"

Nathan shook his head.
 
"I didn't even see him take this card, let alone any others.
 
So I simply do not know."
 

From this angle, the watery light from the window made his eyes appear almost the color of midnight, and she felt her body sway toward him.
 
Without realizing it, his arms slipped lower, coming about her waist as he drew her in.
 
She felt his chin against the top of her head as her body came to rest against his.
 
The comfort and protection she felt in his embrace was enough to drive tears to her eyes.
 
She held her breath again lest she suddenly start crying.
 

Was this what it felt like to have someone protect her?
 
To care for her?
 
Or dare she say, to love her?

Her hands moved tentatively to his back, but her fingers would not curl into the fabric there.
 
Her loose grip was all she could manage just then.

"I also received a message," Nathan said then, "From a very greedy street urchin."

"A street urchin?" she asked, her voice slightly muffled in the front of his coat.

"Yes.
 
Apparently I am to stay out of this.
 
It is none of my concern, which just confirms my suspicions from earlier."

He eased her back a bit, and she looked up at his face.

"Is there something you are not telling me, Eleanora Quinton?"
 

His tone was joking, and she was struck that he could be so teasing in a moment like this, but then she felt her heart lift just a bit, and she knew he did it on purpose.
 
Her lips curved the slightest bit, and she saw the responding softness creep into his expression.
 
He was doing this on purpose, and she welcomed the distraction.
 

"There is nothing that I am aware of that I am keeping from you.
 
I will not rule out the possibility of me knowing or having something of value that I am not aware of.
 
I do see and hear a lot of things in my position, Nathan Black.
 
I can never know if any of them are of value to another."