“Back to where you and your family are residing at Lord Travelli’s, at least for tonight. On the morrow, we sail for London.”
“Are you mad?” she asked. “I cannot sail to England with you! I still have many antiquities in Mr. Bartelli’s shop to catalogue. Besides, I would be completely ruined traveling with you.” Not that she particularly cared, but her family would.
“And scaling the wall of a villa wouldn’t ruin you?”
“No one was about to see me.” Thankfully. For it would reflect poorly on her family, and she had no wish to cause them any further upset.
“I was.”
“Yes, well, you don’t count. Besides, everyone else has already long ago arrived.”
He paused in his stride. “The appreciation you show me, after all I have done for you over the years, takes my breath away.”
“Oh yes, your high handedness and interfering ways have always been very much appreciated.” Bree’s voice was like a silken purr. “With such skills, I am sure one day, you shall attract a lovely mouse of a lady and make her a fine husband.”
She felt his head shake as he continued walking past the hedges lining the Duke’s residence. “I’d take a mouse of a lady over you, any day of the week. At least, I’d live a peaceful life.”
Unexpectedly, his words cut her to the quick. Why she should care he thought her entirely unsuitable to marry was something she did not wish to analyze. “It may be peaceful, but I’d wager rather short lived, as you’d both bore each other to death.”
He stayed silent as they rounded the path onto the gravel-lined drive. She heard him call out something in Italian toward the house before someone’s footsteps scampered off with a voice replying, “Si, si,”
“Can you put me down now?” she asked him as he came to a halt.
“Are you going to run away?”
“I haven’t run away from you since I was thirteen.” She could still remember the look of absolute astonishment in his expression when she’d done so, and he’d been forced to chase after her. It still brought a smile to her face, thinking of the pompous Earl of Thornton running through the woods after her. But she’d managed to outrun him for a short amount of time before he’d caught her. What else could she have done, when he had just threatened to throttle her after catching her releasing the grouse that all of the men her uncle had invited to his estate were going to shoot at later in the day? Not that she’d actually thought he would ever lay a hand on her, but he’d looked pretty angry, and running had seemed like the thing to do at the time.
His grip did not loosen. “That is not answering my question.”
“Oh for goodness sake,” she hissed. “I will not run away. I shall allow you to escort me home, but that is all. And I need to let my aunt and cousin know I’m leaving.”
He lowered her until her boots touched the ground and she was standing.
Bree pushed back some of the wayward strands that had slipped from her chignon, in a belated attempt to look a little more presentable.
It annoyed her that she was always more conscious of her appearance when he was around. Really, what did his opinion of her matter?
It matters a great deal, a small voice inside her head whispered back. Hmm, she would have to have harsh words with that particular voice of hers. “You did ask for your carriage to be brought around, didn’t you?”
“No, I asked him to fetch us some wine.” His voice was completely sardonic. “Of course I asked him to get the carriage and to inform your aunt I would escort you home. What do you think I asked for?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Well, I told you I don’t speak Italian.”
“You should learn. You are half Italian.”
“I am well aware of my own heritage.” Bree crossed her hands over her chest. Part of the reason why she’d adamantly refused to learn the language when she was younger was that she’d already been considered different enough in society because of her background, and she’d had no wish to be perceived as any more so. And, if she was being truthful, the thought of learning a language that should have been taught to her from birth, if her mother had been alive, was rather painful, as it was a constant reminder that her parents had been snatched away from her as a baby. “I don’t need to be prompted by some old man.”
“Old?” he snapped. “Who the devil are you calling old?”
“Oh dear,” she batted her eyes up at him. “Did that rankle?” It felt very satisfying to throw his own word back at him.
He clenched his fists by his sides, looking for all the world like he wanted to throttle her. She let out a little laugh. “Oh do relax. You can’t help how old you are.”
“I’m only nine years senior to you.” His voice was clipped.
“My goodness, I could have sworn it was more than that. Senior even sounds older, doesn’t it?” She feigned a look of innocence.
The side of his jaw began to tick once more. “One day, that mouth of yours is going to get you into trouble.”
She pursed her lips at him. “So you have said many times before. And by the way, you are lucky my aunt knows you to be honorable and without any romantic inclinations toward me. Otherwise, with the number of times you’ve accompanied me home without a chaperone, she would have insisted you marry me.”
“Thank goodness for small mercies,” he muttered.
She really could kick him. The earl aroused in her an anger that no other could. The fact that he seemed the only man immune to her charms was also a slightly sore spot, though she would never admit that to him. “As if I’d even have you anyway. I’d rather be ruined.” She turned on her heel to face away from him.
“Be careful, princess,” he ground out. “You may just get what you wish for.”
“Please,” Bree scoffed. “As if you could ruin anyone. You wouldn’t know how, for everyone knows you to be a stuffy prig.”
“I wasn’t threatening—” He grabbed her arm and spun her back to face him. His hold wasn’t rough, but for some reason, her body felt cemented to the spot. “Someone should teach you some manners, Miss Penderley, for you sorely need them.”
“I need them? You are the most ill-mannered man I know.” She wrenched her arm away. “And I’ve already told you not to treat me like a child. I am not your sister to boss around.”
He laughed without mirth and stepped up closer to her. “Boss around? When have I ever been able to boss you or my sister around? Both of you are the most stubborn, obstinate, and opinionated ladies I know. And you are the bloody ringleader. Honestly, I’ve never met anyone as reckless and foolhardy as you.”
Bree saw red. She poked her finger into his chest. “How dare you say such things, you… you… brute of a man!” She couldn’t help it. She kicked him in the shin. And then immediately regretted it. Why, oh why, did she always lose her temper with this man, and this man alone? She acted like a foolish child around him, and now she felt like kicking her own self because of it.
His eyes widened for a second, and then a look of raw fury crossed his face. Yes, she knew she’d gone a tad too far. She tried to back away, but he grabbed ahold of her arm and pulled her against him.
She pressed her palms against his shirtfront, surprised for a moment on how she could feel the hard planes of his body beneath the cloth. “Let go of me.”
“Not a chance,” he warned. “As I said, someone needs to teach you some manners.”
She gasped as his chest pressed tightly against her own. She’d never seen the cool and reserved Earl of Thornton lose his temper before. Craning her neck up, she looked into his eyes. For a moment, she forgot to breathe.
They stood there locked together, staring into each other’s gaze, neither moving an inch. Suddenly, the anger that was flashing in his eyes was replaced by a look of…hunger?
The sound of a carriage clattering around the drive broke the spell. Daniel swore and released her. He stepped back and dragged a hand through his hair.
She, in turn, took in a hasty breath
and swiveled around to face the approaching vehicle. She was supremely grateful for the darkness, which would cover the blush now gracing her face.
What on earth had just happened? She never blushed in front of him. She hated him, normally. Well, perhaps not hated, but generally, she disliked him as much as he disliked her. But something had changed. The air was charged in a way it never had been before.
“When we get back, start packing.” His voice was glacial.
She shook out her skirts, having to do something with her suddenly fidgety arms. “I will not.”
The footman jumped down and opened the carriage door. Brianna swept up the hem of her dress and stepped inside.
“Do you disagree with everyone? Or am I the only person to have that pleasure?” He sounded rather perplexed as he followed her inside.
She sat down and smoothed out her skirt, feeling much more her ordinary self. “Oh, it is very much you and you alone, Lord Thornton. And if you think I shall meekly sail back to London in the morning, you are in for a very rude awakening indeed.”
Chapter Four
The ride into Naples was strangely silent as the horses and carriage moved swiftly through the mostly deserted streets of the city.
Daniel looked across at Brianna, who was sitting demurely on the padded seat opposite, having not uttered a word since getting into the carriage some time ago. He didn’t particularly like it when she was talking back to him, but he’d take a talkative Miss Penderley over a silent one, any day.
A silent Miss Penderley, he was highly suspicious of. She was bound to be plotting something in that pretty little head of hers—most likely how to foil his attempt to get her on the ship to sail for London, a plan that would, of course, lead to trouble. (When did it not?)
How, then, was he going to convince the chit to return to England? She was as stubborn as a mule when she chose to be, and he had an inkling she was going to choose to display that particularly charming characteristic in spades. Yes, she was going to be rather difficult to persuade.
He caught her staring across at him, appearing to want to say something, before she hastily averted her eyes to look out the window. Interesting. It was unusual for her to be deterred from anything. He was very curious to know what she was thinking. In fact, he was rather disliking the silence all of a sudden.
“Why did they ask you to marry them?” he found himself questioning her, somewhat abruptly.
She stiffened her spine. “What exactly do you mean by that?”
“Well, from all accounts, they both have titles and wealth.”
“So, you find it incredible that they would wish to marry me?” Brianna’s voice grew louder with each word she uttered. “Poor, orphaned Miss Penderley, herself with no title or wealth.”
He suddenly regretted his lack of appreciation for the previous silence. “Quite frankly, yes. Marriage is a business transaction first and foremost. You’re beautiful, we both know that, but—”
“But what?” Her perfectly arched brows drew together with her frown. “Are you suggesting I have nothing else to recommend me as a wife, except my beauty?”
He gave a half shrug. “Beauty in a wife is pleasant but not an absolute requirement. What is more preferable is someone able to hold her tongue and ensure the smooth running of the household.”
“What you are describing is a mute housekeeper.” She was beginning to look like a small thunderstorm in her blue silk gown.
“What I am describing is an ideal wife. You would do well to try to emulate some of those qualities.” It would save him from a great deal of headaches if she could do such a thing. But knowing Brianna, he doubted she’d ever had any experience in holding her tongue.
“Oh, I have quite enough qualities to recommend me without having to resort to scullery service,” she retorted.
“Yes, if a man was looking for a sharp-tongued harpy, you would have a lot to recommend you.”
“Ooh!” She went to kick him in the shin for a second time but obviously changed her mind at the last instant.
“Are you serious?” he questioned, unable to believe she’d nearly had the temerity to do such a thing again, even though the force of her original kick had been rather light. “What has gotten into you? You haven’t had to resort to violence with me in years.”
She lifted her chin into the air. “Your attitude would turn many a mild-mannered woman violent.”
Mild-mannered? He couldn’t think of a more inappropriate description for her. Running a hand through his hair, he resigned himself to her illogical ideas. Perhaps he should leave her be and let her sort out the mess she’d gotten herself into, with her two fiancés, on her own.
But he had given his word to Sir Walter to assist, and as much as she vexed him, he would not go back on it. “Even to you, surely it seems unusual that two men, whom you’ve only just met, propose marriage at roughly the same time?”
“What is so unusual about that?” Her voice was dangerously sweet.
“This is pointless,” he said on a sigh, “if you are not going to engage in a rational conversation.”
For a moment, he swore he could feel her eyes shoot daggers at him.
“So, I am irrational now, too, am I?” she asked. “Are there any other insults you wish to shower upon me?”
He threw up his hands. “Good God, woman, you are impossible.”
The carriage lurched to a halt, and Daniel heard the driver yell in Italian; the exact words, though, were muffled by the roar of a pistol being discharged.
He heard a voice call out to search the carriage. He grabbed Brianna and hauled her over onto the seat next to him. “Stay put, and don’t say anything,” he warned, meeting her wide-eyed gaze. “This is no game. I believe we’re about to be set upon by bandits. Do you understand?”
She nodded, for once unquestioning.
He pulled a pistol from his jacket pocket and cocked the hammer. Angling his body in front of the door, he let the weapon rest unobtrusively by the side of his trouser leg.
The carriage door was flung open, and a short man, with a mask covering the lower portion of his face, waved a shotgun into the confines of the carriage.
“Dov’è il diario?” the man demanded.
Why on earth were bandits wanting to know where a journal was? “Sorry, old chap, I don’t speak Italian.” Daniel shrugged his shoulders as he casually looked past him into the street. He couldn’t see any others, but there was probably another bandit with a firearm trained on the driver to stop the carriage going anywhere, and for good measure, there would be a third keeping a lookout for the authorities.
Daniel briefly wondered why the robbers were searching for journals, not that he was going to give away his fluency in their language. Generally, members of the mafia, who, if he wasn’t mistaken, were called the Garendetta in this part of Italy, specialized in kidnapping and ransom. Though it seemed fairly risky for them to be carrying out such activities in the heart of Naples, particularly when the carriage carried well-to-do foreigners. King Ferdinand frowned upon that sort of thing happening in the heart of the Two Sicilies.
“Stupido Inglese.” The man sneered before spitting onto the ground in obvious disgust. “How you say? Jouranos?”
“Journals?” Bree gasped beside him.
“Si,” the man confirmed. “Journals.”
“I told you to stay quiet,” Daniel growled.
“Sorry,” she whispered.
The man tried to peer past Daniel’s chest to where Bree was seated. “You.” He pointed the shotgun toward her. “You, the girl with the journals. You know where they are. You show me them.”
“She doesn’t have any journals on her,” Daniel responded.
The man narrowed his eyes and turned the gun back to face him. “You, shut mouth.” Then he swung his gaze across to Brianna again. “Where are journals?”
“I do not know what you are talking about,” Bree’s voice was smooth and strong, not an ounce of hesitation.
&n
bsp; Daniel found himself reluctantly impressed at how well she was handling herself. Most ladies of his acquaintance would be cowering in their seats if confronted by a man waving a gun at them. But of course Miss Penderley was certainly not like most ladies. In fact, she was unlike any other lady he knew. And for once, he didn’t think that was such a bad thing.
“Bugiardo!” the man accused.
“What does that even mean?” she asked the man. “Clearly, you were not listening when told we do not speak Italian.”
“Careful, Bree,” Daniel muttered.
The man gritted his teeth and seemed to be thinking hard. Then, all of a sudden, his eyes lit up. “Liar! That what bugiardo mean,” he proudly informed them both.
“Oh lovely, a night of insults,” Bree mumbled beside him.
“Bree…” Daniel growled at her.
“Silenzio!” the man yelled.
“That, I understand,” Bree replied.
The man muttered something under his breath and then regarded Daniel with more sympathetic eyes. “She difficult. You have to put up with her, yes?”
Daniel sighed. “Yes, unfortunately, I do.”
A look of shared suffering passed between the two men.
Daniel motioned him closer. “The journals are underneath the opposite seat.”
The man stared over toward where Daniel was pointing, but before he could blink, Daniel used the butt of his pistol and slammed it into the man’s temple.
As the thief slumped down, Daniel gripped the man’s cotton collar and hauled him onto the opposite seat. He yanked the carriage door shut. “One down, two to go.” He tucked his pistol into the waistband of his trousers and grabbed the man’s shotgun from the floor.
“How do you know there are another two of them?” Brianna whispered as she poked the man with her boot.
“The Garendetta generally rob in packs of three.” He opened the slide of the shotgun, checking there was in fact a bullet nestled in its chamber.
“I think he’s unconscious.” She looked over at him. “Very impressive, my lord.”
Daniel grunted at her unexpected compliment, and he slid back the barrel.
The Elusive Earl Page 4
