Far Too Tempted

by Emma Wildes

  Go…faster.

  If there was a flock, there was a nearby farm, and if she could only make the cover of the trees ahead and hide, she was confident she could find shelter. At least that’s what she told herself. It was better than riding placidly along with an assassin.

  Her abductor was behind her, she realized as she heard the sound of a growled curse that was disturbingly close. It lent wings to her feet and Jessica flew forward, realizing with dismay the charming stone wall skirting the edge of the pasture was higher on this side.

  She reached it and clambered over with graceless haste, falling in a sprawl on the other side, her chest heaving as she regained her feet.

  Unfortunately, Jack, being so much taller and unhampered by long skirts, vaulted over it and caught her about two strides later, his hand clamping in a relentless grip on one shoulder, jerking her backwards. “That’s far enough,” he said breathlessly, his tone harsh. Long fingers curled into her loosened hair and jerked.

  She turned and fought, the attack unexpected for he fell back a step, but she couldn’t shake his cruel hold and a moment later found herself caught up despite her struggles as he began to walk back to the carriage, carrying her weight easily.

  “That was foolish, Mrs. Ramsey,” he told her, his dark eyes glittering. “You would have been little use to me if you’d have broken your pretty neck by jumping.”

  “I have no desire to be of use to you,” Jessica snapped and tried to free her arms but he clamped down even tighter and walked on. Her scalp ached from where he’d pulled her hair.

  “I don’t want to hurt you, but don’t press me. You made a beautiful bride, my dear. You’d make an equally lovely corpse. If I can’t trade you back for Eloise, revenge would be the next order of the day, don’t you think?”

  The icy threat was made with enough conviction she quieted, miserable and stinging from a dozen scratches, her heart still pounding.

  At least this time Alex couldn’t accuse her of bringing trouble into his life. He’d brought it into hers.

  * * * *

  The faint hint of Jessica’s perfume lingered poignantly in the bedroom, a scent all her own, both floral and sweet. Alex methodically changed his clothes, remembering how it felt to hold his wife close, to taste the soft, tempting depths of her mouth, to hear the sound of her sigh against his ear. It was startling to realize how much Jessica had haunted him in the past four years, how the memory of her young, impassioned declaration of love had ended up changing his life. That fateful day long ago had truly made him think about commitment and honor.

  She had grown up while he was gone, but he’d also matured and changed.

  In retrospect, he wondered now if he had unconsciously hoped their night together at Braidwood would be discovered. Certainly if it had been any other young woman, he wouldn’t have done the same thing. He’d have walked to Grayston rather than risk being involved in a compromising situation. Self- preservation, especially when it came to unwanted marriage, was a skill he’d honed well.

  Jessica never inspired particularly rational behavior, he thought, his worry a palpable thing. He hoped she wouldn’t do anything reckless with a man as dangerous as Jack Rivers.

  Even back in Spain, when he’d learned of her engagement, he’d felt conflicted over happiness for the idea her future was secure and the realization he was no longer a part of it. Somehow, the ridiculous notion he still wanted to be her hero at all was a revelation. More than just her husband, her lover, the father of her children if they were so blessed, he wanted with a surprising fervent intensity to have her trust and even admiration.

  He wanted her. Safe. In his arms. Forever.

  Was this love?

  All he knew was if thought about her with Jack, he felt a dread he’d never experienced even before the most horrific of battles. The note had been very to the point. Her life was in danger. With shaking fingers he fumbled with his cravat and gave his haggard face one more glance in the glass before he quit the room.

  * * * *

  Jessica flexed her hands and arched her back experimentally, trying to brace herself. Her skirts were twisted around her legs, and the simple ribbon she’d used to hastily tie back her hair when Jack first arrived had long since come loose. Doing her best to shake the tangled hair out of her eyes, she reflected furiously that while it had been bad enough before being tossed about as they racketed along the uneven roads, it was nearly unbearable being bound hand and foot. Trussed like a chicken and sitting on the seat, she had no protection from the wild swaying of the coach.

  No protection from a murderer who wanted to use her as a pawn.

  Crack. The wheels shook and the whole vehicle shuddered. It gave her silent satisfaction to hear Jack Rivers curse, a dull thud undoubtedly signaling a collision between his head and the top of the carriage.

  Serves you right, she thought darkly.

  I hope you knock yourself bloody unconscious.

  Turning her head slightly, she leveled a glare at the other side of the carriage. Rivers returned the look with an arched, ebony brow. His dark gaze was unreadable to her as a crystal ball.

  The result of her precipitous attempt at escape had been a rope binding her hands and her feet. While he hadn’t been brutal, his detached efficiency was almost more unsettling. She twisted and tugged furiously at her bonds.

  “Why struggle?” The words were cool and calm. “As I pointed out earlier, I have no desire to cause you distress or injury. I will if I must, but that’s entirely up to you. If you had not tried so foolishly to escape, you would be more comfortable.”

  Glaring out from beneath a veil of loose, unruly hair, she said tartly, “You are a self-confessed killer who has abducted me from my own home. It seems to me it would be more foolish not to try to escape, sir.”

  He looked amused, a sardonic smile lifting the corner of his mouth. “Even at the cost of broken limbs? Come now, leaping from a moving carriage is reckless. Why chance it? Let us both trust in your husband’s prudent behavior and anticipate your freedom.”

  Alex, prudent? Jessica laughed. She said sarcastically, “My husband will not set loose a murderous spy on my behalf, Mr. Rivers. Rest assured his duty to England will come first. He has spent the past four years in Spain and has been wounded many times for his country. He’ll hardly toss aside his principles and yield to your blackmail so easily. You should know him better.”

  Jack laughed also—a short, sharp sound. “You are still so young. How little you understand men. He will do anything to secure your release, just as I risk my own neck for Eloise. The concept is one of both protection and possession. A masculine privilege to be sure, but it exists.”

  “Privilege?” Jessica sputtered. If he had chosen any other word, he could not have sent the blood running so fast and angrily through her veins. “Damn your male privilege.”

  “Ah, I’m afraid it’s the way of the world, my dear.”

  “That,” she declared, twisting on the cracked seat, “makes it even worse.”

  “Such passion. So, Alex has married himself a militant female?” A low chuckle came. “What a change from those malleable ladies constantly throwing themselves at his feet. Love does strange things to a man’s judgment, I’m afraid.”

  They careened around a corner, Jessica having no purchase and sliding helplessly into one side of the vehicle, hitting her head. Eyes smarting, she blinked and swallowed back tears of pain. “Not militant,” she managed to say in a credible voice, “but practical. I am sorry to disappoint, sir, but I have to tell you Alex never wanted to marry me in the first place. Love has nothing to do with it. The situation being as such, he will hardly risk his career and good name under the influence of blackmail.”

  “I think you underestimate your own appeal. Please remember, I was at your wedding. Alex is entranced. If your husband is not willing to barter, I will be forced to doubt my own powers of observation.”

  Was it true? Jessica allowed herself one quick flash of joyful
hope before she tamped down the emotion with the reality of the moment. She was a prisoner, tied like a farm animal, and completely helpless. Her husband and his possible feelings were as remote as the moon. Besides which, no doubt Rivers was like any other man, and lust sufficed just as well as love in his eyes.

  Over the rattle of the wheels, she challenged, “When we reach London, I suppose we will find out which one of us knows Alex best.”

  “London?” Jack shook his dark head and negligently shifted his long body, his booted feet scraping the dirty floor. “What makes you think we’re going to London? Once Alex receives my message, he has an allotted amount of time to make a rendezvous point in Bristol, my wife in hand.”

  “Bristol?” Swaying helplessly, she stared. “You said we were going to London.”

  “Yes, but that was when I was convincing you to come along quietly with me. Not that you have cooperated much since.”

  She didn’t care to discuss her ill-fated escape attempt. Had she gained the woods, maybe she wouldn’t even now be a pawn in a murderer’s game, but what happened next was more important than her failure to get away. Jessica desperately wanted to know more about his plans.

  Rivers continued, “Eloise and I are not so naive as to assume there was no possibility of our activities being discovered. We, of course, have an escape route planned and a loyal French captain and his ship at our disposal.”

  Jessica swallowed hard. “And what if, sir, Alex does not arrive at the appointed time? What happens then?”

  Without any inflection whatsoever in his voice, Jack replied, “I think you had better hope that he does, Mrs. Ramsey.”

  Despite the warmth of the afternoon and the closeness of the coach, she felt a shiver creep slowly up her spine.

  * * * *

  Marcus looked grim as they raced down the road. “It’s a devil’s own bargain, that is for certain. Trading the life of an innocent woman for that of destructive vixen responsible for the deaths of many men? However, since the innocent woman is your wife, I don’t see you have much of a choice but to do as Rivers has requested.”

  Alex thrust his fingers viciously into his hair. “I tell you, I am going to kill the bastard with my bare hands, Marc.”

  “That would solve part of our problem, certainly. Of course, you need to find him first. Try to get your emotions in check, man. This ranting is helping nothing. You are as shaken as I have ever seen you.”

  Alex had to actually curb a surge of anger that beckoned him to jump to his feet and shove his fist down his brother’s throat for that infuriatingly correct and very cool statement. However, it was not Marcus’s fault. He shot back, “Tell me, if it were Ariel in the grasp of a madman like Jack, wouldn’t you be spouting threats of vengeance?”

  “Undoubtedly.” Marcus still sounded irritatingly practical and calm. “And it would help me about as much as it is helping you. And you, brother, would be the first one to point out I needed a clear head and a plan. Now, we’re almost there, so explain to me more thoroughly just what you are going to say to General Wright to get him to release Eloise Rivers.”

  Damnation, Marcus must be right since the carriage was slowing. Alex shook his head and slumped back against the seat. An unfamiliar sense of fear and vulnerability that seemed to freeze the very core of his soul made him unable to think, much less form a plan. He’d spent the hours from receiving the message until now with his mind running in circles.

  At this very moment, Jessica was in terrible danger. Jack was not a man who made idle threats and he’d had all the hours of the night to get to Braidwood. That she was in his grasp was not something to doubt. Even if she was too suspicious to believe whatever lie he’d concocted, Jack could simply use force to take her prisoner. Alex said tersely, “I cannot risk asking Wright to free Eloise. If he refused and she mysteriously escapes, he will know it was me who aided that escape. Or worse, he might have her moved and more closely guarded.”

  Across from him, Marcus nodded with approval. “Excellent. I agree completely. We’ll need to break her out ourselves, no one the wiser to what is going on. How well does he have her watched?”

  Somehow, even with his chest tight as a drawn wire over the danger to Jessica, Alex had to suppress a smile over his staid and respectable brother’s obvious enthusiasm over violating God knew how many laws and any loyalty to their government.

  “Marcus, you need to stay out of this,” he warned. “I’ve sent a message to Tolley. He can help me… I think he’ll be willing and keep his mouth shut, even though he works for Wright.” Alex felt his mouth tighten. “He and I left O’Brien with Jack, and the two of us found him together and worked to save his life. It wasn’t exactly a pleasant experience to see such butchery. We have in common now a loathing for Jack Rivers that goes deeper than any affinity for country or king. Tolley will understand fully the danger to Jessica.”

  “And you and I have an even deeper bond, that of blood.” Marcus had a stubborn set to his mouth and his broad shoulders were tense under the finely tailored cut of his coat. “Not to mention that my own fondness for Jessica should be taken into account. I’ll not see anything happen to her.”

  “Good God, Marc, why do think I am sitting here like a shaken old woman? How do you think I felt, having to wait until dusk to even make a move? I can’t even bear the thought of anything happening to her.” Throat working, Alex glanced away to where the late afternoon shadows were slanting against the grey stone of the long building in front of them. Raggedly, he added, “To have her frightened, threatened, possibly harmed, I can’t stand it. I…I feel like wrapping my hands around someone’s neck.”

  “Understandable, as she is your wife. It is your duty to protect her.”

  That was too simple. Alex shook his head. “It’s more than that. I believe…I love her.”

  “Ariel has predicted all along that you would someday realize that very thing.” His brother reached out across the short space and grasped his arm in a steely, steadying grip. “Then, tell me, what are we going to do, Alex?”

  Stirring a little, Alex managed a grim smile. “We’re going inside, and let’s hope that I can convince whoever is in charge of the prisoner that I have further business with the treacherous and beautiful Eloise. I’ll insinuate I have permission from Wright, that he hopes maybe I can glean a little more of her husband’s plans. I feel certain she will aid me once she knows what’s afoot, especially if she thinks she can escape a hangman’s noose. Once we’re in there, we can take a look at how it is outfitted for guards and the like.”

  “Capital start.” Marcus twisted the handle of the door and swung it open, clambering out. He added in a dark mutter, “At least we’re bloody doing something.”

  Almost the second they alighted from the carriage Alex knew things had gone gravely wrong. Lights blazed in every window in the end of the building where Eloise was being held, and shadows moved behind the curtains in a macabre dance of darkness against illumination.

  What the hell? As late as it was, he had anticipated the place to be nearly deserted except for those guarding the dangerous Mrs. Rivers.

  Before he could reach the steps, a hiss came out of the darkness.

  “Guv!”

  Alex stiffened and whirled toward the sound.

  Alfred Tolley eased out of the shadows, his boyish face creased by thin lamplight, his expression grim. He said tightly, “I got your message, but we’re too late, sir. She’s one slippery female, our Mrs. Rivers. The lady has already escaped.”

  * * * *

  The room was silent except for the occasional creak of dry wood and the sigh of a night breeze by the cracked windows. Jessica fought to keep despair at bay, trying to figure out a solution to her predicament. She was tied to what had once been an elegant bed, ankles bound, wrists attached to the post to her right by a short length of rope that barely allowed circulation in her arms. Across the dingy room, Jack Rivers lay wrapped in a blanket on the warped floor, the distance between them
her only consolation.

  She’d stopped trying to loosen her bonds hours ago. Even if she managed to get free, how on earth could she force open one of the windows with the frames so old and swollen by time and neglect? And her captor; was there any chance that he, with his implacable stare and cold, black eyes, would he not wake at the slightest sound?

  Somehow, Jessica was sure he would.

  All he had allowed her the entire day was the barest chance to relieve herself and enough freedom to eat a few bites of food and take some sips of water. Now, she was bound hand and foot, and the aching muscles in her arms and legs made it impossible to sleep.

  What was almost worse, she couldn’t stop yearning for Alex. There was no way, held captive in an abandoned old house and cold and alone, that she could keep her thoughts from straying to her very handsome, very absent husband.

  Even though she closed her eyes, the warm trickle of tears slid down her temples into her disheveled hair. She would give almost everything to feel the warm clasp of strong arms encompass her, the stroke of gentle hands against her skin, the feeling of security and well-being that seemed to seep into her very pores every time Alex touched her.

  No, she thought fiercely, blinking hard. Stop expecting him to rescue you. You have a great deal of self-reliance and he can’t possibly know where you are.

  Her husband was back in London and she was left alone.

  She needed to plot her escape on her own.

  Chapter 18

  The air was warm, like a blanket covering his skin, the fecund smell of decaying vegetation mixing with chimney smoke and manure.

  “Let’s go.” Alex swung into the saddle and pulled the dripping brim of his hat low over his eyes.

  “We’re ready.” Marcus twisted the reins of his spirited black in one fist and deftly mounted. Tolley, obviously not used riding, did the same maneuver with far less ease, settling on the back of his horse and shrugging a shabby coat around his shoulders against the weather.