Swept Away (15 page)

Tears gathered in her eyes as she realized despairingly that she must let Lord Stonehaven go. It meant that she would probably never be able to prove that Selby had not embezzled the money. It galled her to think that Lord Stonehaven would be able to continue to live free from scandal or retribution. But what purpose would it serve to keep him in the hut any longer? He would not give in, and she would only increase her sins if she made him suffer hunger and thirst.

Julia indulged in a brief cry, and afterward she felt better. There was one good thing, at least, about this whole affair, she told herself: Lord Stonehaven did not know who she was. He had assumed that she had kidnapped him in an attempt to get money from him, and she had fortunately not mentioned anything about Selby yet. He knew her as Jessica Nunnelly, and, though he had heard Nunnelly call her “Julie,” she doubted that he would remember—or even know—that Selby had a sister named Julia. Since she and Phoebe did not go out into Society, he would never meet her. Nor was it likely that he would connect her with the odd-mannered, bespectacled creature whom he thought of as Miss Armiger. At least he would not be able to tell the world what she had done and bring ruin down on the Armiger family a second time.

She got up and made her quiet way back down the stairs and out the side door. She hurried across the yard to the stables and there took a bridle and saddle from the tack room and slipped along the stall doors until she came to that belonging to her own mare, Clover. Clover greeted her with a pleased whinny and nudged her head against Julia's chest. Julia stroked her nose and whispered that she was sorry that she had not brought her a carrot this time. Quickly and efficiently, she slid the bridle over the mare's head and fastened the straps, then led her out of the stable. She was afraid at any moment that one of the grooms, who lived upstairs, might be awakened by the small noises she was making and come downstairs to see what was going on. Of course, once he saw who she was, he would not stop her, but he would exclaim about it, and Nunnelly would doubtlessly awaken and demand an explanation, too. Julia did not feel up to telling him that she was letting Stonehaven go, that all his efforts had been for nothing.

She led the horse out of the yard and over to a tree stump that would allow her to mount. There she stopped and put the saddle on Clover, pausing now and then to stroke her and tell her how much she had missed her the past few weeks. When she was done saddling the mare, she climbed onto the stump and mounted, and they set off toward the shepherd's hut. She rode slowly, letting her trusty mare pick her way in the pale light, and as she rode, she tried to decide exactly how to let Stonehaven go.

She had not really thought about the details of it when she left the house, but she could see now that there would be problems. She had intended merely to cut his bonds, then ride off, leaving him to find his way from the hut to the road. But it occurred to her that if he left the hut and sought help at the nearest cottage, he would soon learn that he was on Farrow land, quite close to the Armiger house, and she feared that he would become suspicious that the kidnapping had had to do with Selby. That would never do. She could, of course, run off, leaving him the horse, for then he might very well ride until he found the highway back to London, might even go back to London without really realizing how close the Armiger house lay. But she could not do that, either, because that would mean giving up her favorite horse. She could see that she had acted rashly once again. She should probably have roused Nunnelly and had him carry the man back to London and leave him there, no matter how incensed Nunnelly might have been about her giving up.

For a moment she considered turning back and doing that, but then she thought that Nunnelly would not do it until the horses had been given a chance to rest, and she did not want to wait any longer. She would feel far too guilty about leaving Deverel there in that uncomfortable position with nothing to eat or drink for several more hours. Besides, she did not want him to get a good look at her in the daylight. Finally she decided that the thing to do was to tie his hands but release him from the chair. His muscles were bound to be cramped from being tied in that position, so she did not think she had to fear his attacking her while she did those things. She would blindfold him and make him get on the horse, hands tied, and lead him to the highway to London. There she would release him and ride home, hoping that he would grab a ride to London without inquiring about who lived in the area.

After some time she caught a glimpse of the hut, nestled in the trees ahead. She rode on, her nerves tightening, and stopped in front of the shack. Dismounting, she tied her mare to a nearby sapling, then strode toward the cottage.

Through the cracks in the shutters she could see the dim glow of the oil lamp, which she had left burning. It made her feel a trifle better to think that at least she had not left him sitting bound in utter darkness. She reached the door and paused, drawing a steadying breath, then reached out to turn the knob.

A faint movement to her right caught her attention, but before she could even flinch, an arm like iron wrapped around her, clamping her own arms to her sides, and a hand came up to cover her mouth.

Fear paralyzed Julia for an instant, but then she began to struggle and scream. Her cries were muffled by the hand on her mouth, and her struggles were utterly futile, given the strength of the arm around her, but she refused to go down without a fight.

How had he gotten loose? She had no doubt that it was Stonehaven. It would stagger the imagination to think that there happened to be some other man lurking around the hut in which he had been held, waiting to attack her. But it had seemed impossible for him to get free. Nunnelly had bound him, almost too tightly, she had thought, and though they had not gagged him, there wasn't a soul for miles around to have heard him yelling.

Julia kicked backward, connecting once or twice with his legs, but with her arms immobilized, she had little chance against him. He bore her to the ground, turning her around so that she lay facing him, and effectively pinned her there by straddling her. His strong thighs clamped her legs together, and she was very aware of the intimacy of their positions. His hand had left her mouth so that he could grasp both her hands and bring them together in front of her. She screamed, knowing that no one could hear her, but having to make the attempt, anyway. It took him only a moment to wrap one large hand around both her wrists, holding her arms helplessly together. Then he reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out his elegant handkerchief and stuffed it into her mouth, effectively muffling her cries.

Next he picked up a length of rope from the ground and lashed her wrists together. By the time he had done that, Julia had managed to spit the kerchief out, and she began to shriek again, but with her hands tied, Deverel could devote his efforts to gagging her, which he did again, taking the handkerchief and shoving it between her lips, tying the ends tightly behind her head. Julia glared at him impotently, and he raised a sardonic eyebrow.

“How does it feel, my dear, to be on the receiving end?”

He slid down her legs and off her, taking her ankles in his hand and holding them firm while he tied them together, as well. Then he stood and gazed down at her, surveying his handiwork in the dim light. Apparently satisfied, he reached down and pulled her to her feet. When she was standing, he wrapped her cloak, which had gotten twisted and pushed behind her, around her once more and retied the ribbons at the top tightly. Then he pulled the hood of the cloak forward as far as it would go, effectively hiding her face from any observer who did not come right up and peer into her face.

Julia swallowed, trying to push down her fear. What was he doing? After he had gotten free, why had he waited to ambush her? Why had he not simply fled? Her hopes of escaping a scandal were quickly fading. Indeed, at the moment she was in fear not only for her reputation, but for her very life. She could think of no reason for him to have waited as he had unless he meant to exact revenge upon her for what she had done. She shuddered to think what form that revenge might take. It seemed all too likely that he would take from her what she had teased and trapped him with—the pleasures of her body.

She closed her eyes, trying to still her trembling. She refused to let him see that he had terrified her. He might strip her of her virginity tonight, but she would be damned if she would let him see that he had beaten her.

Expecting him to drag her back into the hut now and rape her, she was surprised when he bent and picked her up in his arms, then carried her not toward the shack but to her horse. He tossed her up onto the mare so that she lay facedown upon it, head dangling down on one side and her feet on the other. It half knocked the air from her, and she lay there ignominiously, the blood rushing to her head, while he adjusted the stirrups to suit his long legs. Then he untied the mare, talking softly to her, and climbed up into the saddle. She thought she felt his hand brush over her bottom, and she stiffened, but he pulled her none too gently over and up, so that she sat sideways on the horse in front of him, his arms around her, forcing her against his chest. He clicked to the horse and tapped her with his heels, and they started forward.

Julia saw with some relief that he started along the faint track in the opposite direction of her home, moving instead toward Farrow. But long before they reached Thomas's home, they came upon a better-marked path and took it instead. They rode for some time and finally came out upon a road that led to the village of Whitley. Julia sat passively as the ground stretched out beneath them. She knew that, bound and gagged as she was, there was no point in struggling. When they reached their destination, whatever it might be, there might be an opportunity to get away, and she would take it. She did not let herself think about the difficulty of escaping with her ankles bound together.

Finally, they reached the village, and Stonehaven turned the mare into the yard of the inn. Julia stiffened. A new fear swept over her.
Was he going to turn her over to the authorities for kidnapping?
The local constable would recognize her in an instant.

It was the dead of night, and the inn was dark and quiet. Stonehaven, however, did not hesitate to set up a shout for the innkeeper. He dismounted and pulled Julia off. Making sure her hood was still far forward, he picked her up, cradling her against his chest, so that one could see nothing of her except a feminine shape. Her cloak effectively hid her bound hands and feet, as well as her face.

He carried her to the door and pounded upon it. “Innkeeper! Open up. I need a room!”

From inside came a muffled roar to keep it down, and a few moments later the rotund innkeeper, still in his nightcap and nightshirt, his trousers hastily pulled on beneath, opened the door.

“What the devil do ye mean—” he began wrathfully, but stopped when the light of his candle revealed to him a man whose clothes and bearing proclaimed him instantly to belong to the world of quality. He lifted his candle, peering more closely at the bundle in the gentleman's arms.

“My wife is sick. I have need of a room immediately.”

Julia began to squirm and make noises around her gag, for at his words, the prospect of rape had again raised its ugly head, shoving the threat of discovery back into the more remote regions of terror. However, Stonehaven's arms merely tightened around her, stilling all motion, and his hand pressed her head into his chest.

“As you can see,” he said smoothly, “she cannot even speak, she is so weak.”

“Oh, aye, come in, come in, sir.” The innkeeper stepped back, holding the door to let him enter. “What be wrong with her, sir? Do ye be needing a doctor?”

“No, I think not. Traveling often lays her out like this. She is of a delicate constitution.” When the landlord peered out into the yard, empty save for Julia's horse, Stonehaven went on, “Our chaise broke down some distance back. Our coachman is repairing it, but my wife was feeling so sickly that I decided to take her ahead on my horse and get us a room for the night.”

“Of course, sir. The best thing for her.” The innkeeper, always happy to make a profit, turned and led them through the public room and up the stairs. “I'll give ye the room at the back. It's the quietest we got, only the garden behind it and no one staying in the room next to ye.”

His words made fear squeeze Julia's heart, but Stonehaven said with satisfaction, “Sounds like just the thing.”

The landlord opened the door to the room, asking if he would like to have a warming pan brought to warm up the sheets or perhaps a hot brick for the lady's feet.

“No. We'll be fine. I know my girl, and all she needs is a night's sleep.”

The landlord lit the candle on the small table by the door and bowed out of the room. Stonehaven bent and turned the key in the lock. Then he carried Julia across the room and tossed her onto the bed. She landed with a thump, the hood of her cloak falling back and the sides opening. Julia was very aware of the picture she made, utterly helpless, bound and gagged, her skirts rucked up to the knees, showing her stocking-clad legs.

He loomed over her, his eyes traveling slowly down the length of her body, and a wicked grin lit his features. “Well,” he said, “I think we might say that you are completely in my power.”

D
everel sat down beside her on the bed, and the mattress sagged beneath his weight, sending Julia sliding into him. She did her best to wriggle away, and he smiled. Casually he slid his hand down her front, touching her breasts and abdomen through her dress in a way that was devoid of feeling, demonstrating only his power. She squirmed, blushing hot with humiliation, feeling far more shame than she had in the carriage, when he had touched her so intimately and looked upon her naked chest.

“Oh, yes, I could take you if I wished,” he told her conversationally. “I could claim that prize with which you teased me.” Her nipples stood out against the material of her dress, and he took one bud between his forefinger and thumb and rolled it a little. Julia was horrified to feel it harden beneath his contemptuous touch. “Does the thought frighten you? I cannot imagine why. Given the way you make a living, I would think you are quite used to a stranger's touch.”

Julia made a strangled noise of rage and glared at him.

“Well, you needn't worry,” Stonehaven continued, taking his hand away and standing up. “I have no interest in sharing the questionable pleasures of your body. Frankly, the sight of you fills me with disgust. I would as soon bed a snake.”

His words stung, but Julia went limp in relief. She could see that his pride had been too much wounded to permit him to admit that he desired her. The source of his anger, she thought, was not so much that he thought she had meant to swindle him, nor even that she had made him look foolish. He was furious, she thought, because she had deceived him, had pretended that she felt passion for him. Well, she was certainly not about to admit to him that her passion had been anything but feigned.

“I shall take the gag out now. I want to talk to you. But if you scream, I shall tell our landlord the whole story and send for the authorities. I don't think you wish to end your days at Newgate, do you?”

Julia shook her head. He looked at her for a moment, seeming to judge her, then reached down and untied the handkerchief and pulled it from her mouth.

Julia's mouth was as dry as cotton. She felt sure she could not have yelled even if she had wanted to. But she was not about to draw a crowd. The last thing she wanted was to attract attention, to have the innkeeper in here and then the constable. She didn't know what Stonehaven wanted, but her only goal at the moment was to get away from him without his finding out who she was or dumping her in the gaol.

She tried to speak, but it came out only as a croak. She cleared her throat, wet her lips and tried again. “What do you want from me, then?”

“Something quite simple, I assure you. I want the names of your accomplices. I want the person who thought this up, who decided to use me.”

“I told you earlier. That is I.”

He grimaced. “Do you take me for a fool? I know that there were at least two others in on it with you—the man who drove the coach and one other, at least on the occasions when they tried to take me on the street, before they conceived of the idea of sending you in as bait. Is two the total number? Neither of them seemed like a leader of the gang to me. I would have said flunkies both. Someone paid all of you, and I want to know who that is.”

Julia gazed back at him, setting her chin. There was nothing she could tell him. He obviously refused to believe that a mere woman could have come up with a scheme such as this.

“It is bound to be someone who knows me somewhat,” he continued in a musing voice. “Enough that they know my movements, where I live, how to—” he cast a hard glance at Julia “—how to intrigue me.”

“It doesn't take much intelligence to know that a woman is the best way to topple any man,” Julia said coolly.

“A sharp, maybe,” he suggested, ignoring her comment. “Someone who has seen me in places like Madame Beauclaire's. Someone who mingles with the ton to some extent. Perhaps it was he who taught you how to speak and act so that you seem almost a lady. What is he to you? Your lover? Your procurer?”

It took a moment for Julia to realize what he meant, that he was suggesting that this imaginary man provided her with prostitution clients. Fury flared in her, erasing her fear for the moment. She sat up, eyes flaming. “You bastard! How dare you?”

He made a derisive noise. “My, aren't we the fine lady now? I'm beginning to change my mind. Perhaps you are an actress. It would seem to fit your skills, as well as your morals. Is that it? Are you and your lover in the theater?”

“You are a fine one to condemn my morals!” Julia snapped. “What were you doing in that carriage or at Vauxhall Gardens? Holding off my rapacious advances like the saint you are?” Her mouth curled in contempt. “That's just like a man, to try his best to seduce you and then blame
you
because he was tempted. You would not have been so vulnerable, would you, if you had not been a libertine!”

“There is some difference, madam, between being swept away by desire and cold-bloodedly plotting to ensnare someone. The latter person has no heart.”

“But you do? What a bald-faced lie. You have no compassion, no feeling, no
heart.
You are the sort of person who would coolly stand on the bank and watch a person drown rather than get your clothes wet.”

His eyebrows lifted at the venom in her voice. “Indeed? And how did you, who know me not at all, manage to come up with that assessment of my character?”

Julia stopped, nonplussed. She had been so carried away by her anger that she had almost been to the point of revealing who she was and why she had done what she did. That, she was sure, would have been a mistake, perhaps even a fatal one. She had kept her mouth shut about her identity because she did not want to embroil her family in another scandal. It occurred to her now that it was probably safest in other ways, too, not to let on who she was. Stonehaven would not be pleased to learn that anyone suspected him of committing the crime he had blamed on Selby. He might even decide that he had better make sure she didn't go around spreading her suspicions to others.

“I know men of your type,” she said sullenly, and lapsed into silence again.

“Let us return to the subject at hand—your accomplices. Since you seem to have such difficulty in talking about them, why don't we start with the easiest one, the man who knocked me over the head. Who is he? You called him Nunnelly—a relation? Or is your name false, as well?”

“He is no relation. And neither of us is named Nunnelly. 'Twas a name that, uh, we came up with to hide our identities.”

“What is his true name?”

“I don't know.”

“Come, come, you don't know your own accomplices' names?”

“Only his first name—'tis Fred. I never heard him called anything else.”

“And the other?”

“What other?”

“There were two of them the times they tried to kidnap me before.”

“Oh. That was Will. He cried off after that last attempt—no stomach for hitting people, you see.”

“And your leader?”

Julia rolled her eyes and was silent.

“You might as well tell me, you know. I am a patient man. I'm quite willing to stay here until you tell me the truth—or until you tell the constable.”

“You won't turn me over to any constable,” Julia said with more confidence than she felt. “Then you would never find out about that other man—and I think you would be very interested.”

“Indeed? Why is that?” His face remained cool and blank, but Julia could see the flare of interest in his eyes.

She shrugged and slipped into the accent of one of the upstairs maids. “Well, sir, it might be because the one what 'ired me—aye, and taught me to talk fancy, too—is one of your own.”

“My own?”

“That's right. I was just a poor girl, working in a tavern, I was, when this gentry sort, a lot like you, come in. After I got off work, he said to me, ‘Jessie, me lass, 'ow would you like to come with me and make a lot of money?' 'Course I was willing. 'Oo wouldn't be, I ask you. So he takes me up in his fancy curricle and drives me back to this grand 'ouse. There's a woman there, see, 'oo teaches me 'ow to talk like gentry.” Julia abandoned her accent for the moment, asking in a grande dame manner, “She did a splendid job, don't you think?”

“Splendid,” Stonehaven agreed dryly.

“And 'e bought me lots of byootiful clothes, like the dresses I been wearin', and she taught me 'ow to walk and sit and all, without slouchin' or lettin' me back touch the chair. Was proper exhausting, it was.”

“No doubt. What was the object of all this tiresome education?”

“Why, to trap you, of course. What else? 'E says, ‘I'll get that'—well, 'e called you a word me dad would 'a switched me proper if I'd said. That gentry fellow 'as a powerful dislike for you.”

“What is this gentry fellow's name?”

“I don't know. 'E told me to call him Andrew, so that's wot I did, but I don't think it was 'is real name. She, the lady wot taught me, she always called 'im ‘my lord.”'

“Why did he hold such a ‘powerful dislike' for me?”

“Well, 'e didn't say, exactly, but once he said that you was a thief.” Julia watched him closely.

“A thief!” He raised one eyebrow. “And what was I supposed to have stolen?”

“I'm not rightly sure,” Julia said, then added pertly, “'Ave you stolen so much that you don't know which thing 'e's talkin' about?”

Stonehaven sighed. “You are a most dedicated liar, and you're talking a bag of moonshine, as we both know. I have never stolen anything from anyone, and I doubt sincerely that there is any gentleman who harbors such ill will toward me that he would spend the time and the ready grooming you to seduce me. The accent, the walk, the demeanor—those were not things learned in a few weeks' study in some mystery lord's house. I daresay it took you years to acquire them. In fact, I am rather inclined to believe that you were raised speaking and acting that way. My surmise is that you are some well-bred girl who was wild from the time she was young and who probably disgraced her family by running away with her dance tutor—or perhaps a traveling troupe of actors.”

“You have a fascination with actors, haven't you?” Julia asked. “Why is that, I wonder?”

“Dammit!” He turned away, slamming his hand down on the small table beside the bed so hard that the oil lamp on it wobbled. “You are the coolest bit of muslin I ever saw! Nothing rattles you, does it? Seduction, kidnapping, being caught red-handed—certainly not lying! That, it seems, is what you do best.”

“Oh, I do many things well,” Julia responded calmly. She was not sure exactly why she had such an urge to goad Stonehaven, when all sense told her that it would be better to try to calm his seething rage. All she knew was that it was her last weapon against him, and she was not going to go down without a fight.

He snorted. “I am sure you do, no doubt most of them in bed. However, I have no interest in sampling your wares tonight. If you think to seduce me into letting you go, you are fair and far off.”

“I wouldn't think of it. The thought of your touch sickens me, quite frankly. Indeed, it was all I could do to stand to let you embrace me, no matter how much money I was going to get.”

“Then you are indeed a marvelous actress, my girl,” he snapped, jaw tightening. “I have never before met a woman who could flush with heat on cue or cause her nipples to pebble or soak her pantalets with—”

Julia vaulted off the bed with an inarticulate cry of rage. Had she not been tied up, she would have flown at him, biting and clawing. As it was, with her ankles bound, she could not maintain her balance after her impetuous jump off the bed, and she fell heavily.

He let out an oath and strode over to her, bending down to pick her up. “Are you mad? Whatever possessed you to do such a thing?”

Julia had knocked the wind from herself in the fall, as well as hurting one arm and hip and getting a crack on her head that had made her eyes water, so it took her a moment to speak. By that time the fury had subsided, and she was able to say coldly, “I wanted to kill you.”

“The truth hurts, doesn't it?”

She turned a flat gaze upon him. “Is it the truth? You speak of physical reactions caused by certain actions, sir. Any person could doubtless cause them. I spoke of emotions. If you were so sure that I enjoyed your kisses and caresses, then I doubt you would be quite so enraged by the thought of my ‘using' them to trap you. Now would you?”

She was rewarded by the tiny flare of anger in his eyes, quickly suppressed. He did not reply to her, merely picked her up once again and set her on the bed.

He untied her cloak and removed it, hanging it on a hook by the door. Then he squatted down in front of her and took her feet in his, removing each of her shoes.

A shiver ran through Julia at the touch of his hands on her feet, and she snapped, “What are you doing?”

“Taking off your shoes…unless you prefer to sleep in them?”