The Highwayman (Rakes and Rogues of the Restoration Book 3) (21 page)

“I’ve a powerful hunger,” he murmured against her ear, before he went to open the door.

A liveried waiter, dressed as fine as any footman, laid a feast before them. Tender slices of thin cut beef sprinkled with breadcrumbs and grilled to perfection were served on silver dishes, accompanied by a large helping of potatoes and butter, a pitcher of frothy beer, and a bottle of fine Bordeaux wine.

Despite the interruption, the mood between them had changed, and what had earlier felt tentative and awkward was now intimate, flirtatious, and strangely relaxed. They fell to the casual conversation typical of the dinner table, but the air between them crackled with the same barely contained power she’d felt when high in the peaks, or racing an angry surf before an impending storm. It was a curious feeling. A thrilling, fascinated calm that heightened all the senses and made her feel exquisitely alive.

Jack was charming, entertaining, and a wonderful conversationalist. He was well traveled, and she enjoyed his anecdotes about France and Holland, and his adventures on the North African Coast and in Tangier. She sipped her wine as she listened. A lovely rich red that hinted of pepper, spice, and berry, and left her completely at ease.

The waiter appeared again as if by magic, bringing them mulled wine and coffee, and a light saffron butter cake, layered with lemon curd and topped with sweet clotted cream. Jack tossed him a coin that made him smile, and when he left he seemed well pleased.

The mulled wine made Arabella feel warm and mellow and everything seemed to take on a golden glow. Jack’s voice was pitched low, and she leaned in, the better to hear him. Amidst coffee and spiced wine, her own floral perfume and sweet dessert, she caught his scent and it made her nostrils flare. Even in the civilized confines of the sitting room, he smelled of moss and stone and heather––as wild as the Yorkshire moors.

She leaned her chin on her hand and tilted her head sideways, twirling an escaped ringlet of hair, watching his mouth as he spoke. When he pushed a plate of cake toward her, she dabbed at the cream with a finger, taking a luscious swirl and dipping it in her mouth. Jack paused in his conversation and she looked at him curiously. His eyes were alight with hunger, and gleamed with something more. She looked at him, wide-eyed and innocent, then swirled her tongue around her finger, watching his eyes darken as she slowly withdrew it from her mouth.

“Jesus!” He said with a short laugh. “ I swear you know exactly what you do.”

“You
shouldn’t
swear,” she said primly. Her finger slowly traced the rim of her plate, and gathered another dollop. She watched him intently as she brought it to her lips and sucked the tip. She wasn’t sure what it was she did, but she was eager to see if she could do it again.

“You make a man hunger for more than food,” he whispered, making her blush. “Come.” He rose abruptly and held out his hand. “Sit with me and have some wine beside the fire. Or is it time for me to take you back?”

Arabella was in no hurry for the evening to end. When she was with there was no place she’d rather be. She tottered only a little when he helped her to her feet.

“You said that I might ask you anything. I think it only fair that you might ask anything of me.”

Jack grinned, amused by her disingenuous double entendre. She settled on the settee and he dropped down beside her, stretching his legs and resting his arm along the back so his fingertips brushed her shoulder. She relaxed against him, her body warm and loose-limbed, and rested her head against his chest. In another woman he might think it blatant invitation, but he knew from Arabella it meant innocence, trust, and perhaps a bit too much to drink.

“But first I should like to have some more mulled sack.”

He chuckled and ruffled her hair. “Have pity, my lady, on this poor knight of the road. I vouch you
can
drink me under the table, but I pray you don’t humble me by proving the point. It will give us both sore heads as we start our adventures tomorrow.”

“You will be my guide.” She nodded happily.

“Yes, I will, in this and other things, should you permit it.” He allowed his fingers to drop to the nape of her neck, and gently stroked the sensitive skin just below her ear.

She gave a tipsy giggle and leaned into his caress. “That tickles in a most delightful way.”

“I know many other delightful things I should be happy to show you.” He slouched down so he was half reclining, and wrapped her in his arms. “I have whiled away many an hour, dreaming of holding you like this.”

“You mean in prison.” She tried to sound disapproving, but it took too much effort and she was too content.

“Yes, in prison. A fit place for a highwayman, whereas roaming the country on horseback alone hardly seems a fit place for an aristocratic, unmarried English lady.”

She twisted her head to look up at him. “I never seemed to fit in with other ladies. I am bored by the things they enjoy. I hate needlework and shopping.”

“And you love to explore.” One hand rested against her ribcage. He spread his fingers so they cupped her breast. He must feel her heart, softly pounding as he pressed his lips to the side of her neck in a light caress.

She smiled happily. “I knew
you
would understand.” She stretched her neck to allow him greater access, and sighed with pleasure when he accepted the gift. “I feel so free when I travel, Jack. Being on the road, unencumbered, with no plans but those that interest me that day. I love not knowing what is around the next bend. Since I have left London I’ve seen so many wonders! I don’t think I can ever go back to the life I knew before.”

~

Jack found her breathless enthusiasm endearing, even though he suspected she was slightly foxed. His own sense of wonder had barely survived his childhood. No child marveled at his surroundings when his limbs were broken, his body was sold, and the monster who owned him roared drunkenly in the next room. Imagination, curiosity, amazement, those were things he’d thought dead until his bond with Bess and their wild rides under a fat-bellied moon rekindled them. But it was a lonely pleasure. Like drink, it satisfied and soothed until one woke empty and heart-sore in the morning. He envied Arabella her wonder and he felt a fierce need to protect and guard it. That he had found her at all, was a wonder to him.

He took her hand and squeezed it. “So you will make a career of your travels now.”

“And writing about them, yes. I have discovered, after all, that I don’t want to fit in.”

“And of course, there is your fragile health,” he added with a grin.

“I am not an utter fool. I’ve no desire to risk my inheritance or any claim to respectability. It’s a perfectly acceptable excuse.”

“We do share much in common it seems. A yen for the highway, a taste for adventure, and we are play actors both. But what of all the attendant dangers? You risk highwaymen, foul weather, accidents and wild beasts. Arabella Hamilton, how did you grow so bold?”

“I come by it naturally I think. Perhaps I got it from my mother. She was an Irish rebel you know. And of course, my father was a leveler. They believe in leveling the ranks and distinctions of men. They needed to be made of sterner stuff to risk defying church, dictators
and
kings. I know you are a royalist, as are most of your kind.”

“And yet you are a countess, and I am but an ordinary man.”

“Being a countess has its advantages. My father always counseled practicality. And there is nothing remotely ordinary about you.”

He favored her with a roguish grin. “We are rebels both. I too believe in leveling the ranks and distinctions of men, though not quite in the same way you do. I do it by spreading the wealth.”

“You are well-spoken, well-educated, and well-mannered. Were you a gentleman born?”

“Why? Do you think only your aristocratic friends have good manners?”

“No. I didn’t mean—”

“I apologize. Neither did I. I know you meant no offense.” He filled a cup with mulled wine from the pot warming by the hearth, and handed one to her. “I am convinced, like your father was I suppose, that a fellow’s birth has little to do with what kind of man he becomes. I envy you your memories. From what you say your father was a good man. Mine was not. He was a drunk, sadistic bastard, yet he was called a gentleman too.”

“I do understand, Jack. The same might be said of my cousin.”

He nodded. “My father was well spoken when it pleased him. He belonged to the same circle as yours, though they were on opposite sides of the war. It amused him to make me speak like he did. Or maybe it amused him to correct me when I didn’t.” He touched his finger pensively to the slight crook in his nose.

“There is nothing I would own of him, though. It was an innkeeper and his wife who taught me good manners, a stranger who provided for my keep, and a schoolmaster with a passion for teaching who taught me to learn and think. And what I know of patience and trying to understand another I learned from Bess.”

“And what of your mother?” She asked carefully.

“She had some education. She was gently bred. In quiet moments she taught me what she knew.” A memory came to him, as fresh and vivid as if it were yesterday, of gentle fingers stroking his brow and a voice softly humming. “She was often tired and sad. She didn’t survive my youth.” There was a bitter twist to his lips.

“I am sorry, Jack.” She pulled his hand to her chest and squeezed it.

“Don’t be,” he said, pulling her close. “It was a long time ago.”

“My mother died a long time ago too, but I miss her still.”

“Your beautiful free-spirited rebel mother ? She lives on in you.”

Arabella ducked her head, hiding a lone tear, but his words made her smile. “I see nothing of the man you describe your father as, in you.”

Jack nodded. “We are of a height. That is all.”

“Was he a highwayman too? Your father? Is that how you took to the road?”

“Sweet Arabella. So many questions. But as I insist on pursuing you, I suppose you have a right to know. It’s traditional though, when you want a man’s story, to ply him with strong drink.”

Jack filled his cup and swallowed it down, then set it on the floor. “Let’s see...How did I become a knight of the road...?” He tapped his fingers contemplatively. “I can tell you that I was a contrary lad, and if my father
were
a highwayman, I would have been anything else just to spite him. I was not seduced into it by bad women, nor driven to it by poverty brought on by the war or to support bad habits such as gaming and drink.

“He…my sire, was a soldier for a time, a cavalier, until he came into his inheritance. He was busy spending
that
on cards, drink and women when I was born. He never felt he had enough money and was always looking for more. He didn’t seek it on the highway though. He sought an heiress to add to his lands and replenish his funds.

He thought my mother would serve well enough, but she turned out to be a disappointment. There were rumors that he had been cashiered from the army. Something to do with rape and assault. That was before he came into his inheritance so it was forgiven if not forgotten, but he had a reputation as a drunk and womanizer and worse, a man who cheated at cards. Not the sort a respectable family wanted to associate with, earl or no. Particularly one with good connections and far better prospects for their daughter.

My mother had several better offers, so he said, but she chose him. He didn’t expect her family to cut her off without a penny and turn their backs on her though. Neither did she, I suspect. He...Harris...destroyed her for that, and then a stranger seeking vengeance for some past wrong destroyed him.”

“What stranger?”

“Some captain or other, on the opposite side during the wars. Nichols was his name. It was something personal. Something to do with what Harris had done to his sister.”

“And this man killed your father?”

“No. Though he meant to. I watched him waiting in the shadows with his sword drawn and didn’t say a word. I wanted him to do it. But Harris used me as a shield and Nichols let him go free. The captain saw to him later, though. Ensnared him in his own trap. Saw him arrested as one of the plotters planning treason against the king just a mile down the road in Farnley Wood. I never saw Harris again, except at a distance in chains, and a good thing too. I would have killed him, Bella...if he didn’t kill me first––and sons shouldn’t murder fathers, nor fathers their sons.”

“Oh, Jack!” Arabella was momentarily stunned. He always seemed so cheerful. Amused, even carefree. She’d had no idea his youth had been so dark.

“I have shocked you. My apologies.” He gave her a weary smile. “I have never shared that with anyone, unless you count my drunken ramblings to Bess. But you take a great chance to spend time with me, Bella. It is something you should know, and I would rather it be now than later. Now you can decide if it’s truly worth the risk.”

She touched his cheek in a light caress. “Though you made light of it and called it entertainment, I knew when you turned back to help a stranger that you were worth the risk.”

Something inside him relaxed. He had half resolved to keep his past a secret, dreading both her pity and her fear. He kissed the tip of her nose and grinned when she scrunched up her face. “Were you ever a stranger to me, Bella? It’s funny, but I can’t remember when.”

“Don’t change the subject.” She nudged his side. “You still haven’t explained why you became a highwayman, Jack.”

“Ah! Yes. Why...? It was simple enough at first. My sire, the depraved earl of whatever was a proud and useless hate-filled man, but my mother...as I told you, was a lady, like you.” He played absently with a strand of her hair as he spoke. “She had a lovely voice. I remember how she would sing to me, even after she was broken by Harris and discarded by those who call themselves noble and think themselves well bred. I was an angry youth though I fought it, for fear I’d become like him. But I wanted to avenge her. By refusing to aid her, I felt they had robbed me of what I valued, and I decided to take what held value to them. Gold, jewels, property, their own sense of privilege and inviolability within the confines of their golden little world. It made sense to me at the time.”