Earl of Infamy

by Tammy Andresen

  Without a sound, he loosened his arm from her grasp, and she had a panicked moment where she thought he might leave her side. Her heart pounded in her chest as she reached for him again, but then his arm wrapped about her, pulling her against his side as he guided them both deeper into the shadows.

  Her arms slid around his waist and she buried her face into his hard chest as she heard another man call back. “Who wants to know?” Avery had to assume that was the driver.

  “Men you don’t want to trifle with,” a third called back.

  The driver grunted. “You friends of the countess’s husband?”

  Both men stopped, their boots falling silent. “Countess’s husband?”

  “That’s right. My employer…” The driver’s voice dropped down to a low, conspiratorial tone. “He’s visiting with a certain lady but her husband…”

  The other two men laughed. The sort of vulgar chuckles that made her press even closer to Ivinhart. She might have fallen into these men’s very hands if not for him.

  He tightened his arm about her back, his hands splayed out in a display of protection that left her breathless and grateful. Silence fell but they stayed where they were for several more seconds before Ivinhart finally eased his hold on her.

  But his arm stayed about her as he guided her toward the carriage. He stopped just before the building gave way to the street and peered into the darkness. For Avery’s part, she’d never been more grateful to be in black.

  Ivinhart must have decided the men had left because he pulled her out onto the street and then to the carriage.

  Snapping open the door, he all but picked her up, pushing her into the vehicle before he climbed in behind her and snapped the door closed.

  The driver hadn’t uttered a word. Instead, he snapped the reins, and they were off into the night.

  She glanced back, trying to catch a glimpse of Devonhall’s home, the only place she’d remembered ever being happy, but she couldn’t see it through the darkness and the surrounding buildings.

  She’d made a choice tonight. The right one, she hoped.

  But as the carriage moved away, she realized there was still so much she didn’t know.

  Case in point, Avery hadn’t a clue where they were going.

  Noah stared across the carriage at the woman he’d just held in his arms.

  Why did she affect him so?

  They’d been in danger standing in that alley. He should have been fixated on the men who posed the threat, instead all he could think about was how well Avery fit against him, her softness melding to his harder edges.

  Each of the men at the club had a nickname. Devonhall, for example, was nicknamed Decadence. The Marquess of Milton went by Menace at the club. It protected their identities in their illegal business, but it also signified something about them as men. Decadence had lived a lavish life of excess before he’d married Isabella. Menace caused trouble wherever he went before he’d met Eliza.

  Noah’s nickname was Infamy. Chosen perfectly for his behavior in his adult life. He bounced from one scandalous rendezvous to the next.

  His driver had lied to those men. But the lie was derived from a series of actual late night calls Noah habitually made. He was infamous for his debaucherous behavior.

  He frowned as he looked at Avery, her delicate profile just visible in the darkness of the carriage. He wasn’t even certain he enjoyed the debauchery. It had become a habit after Lily’s death. But the clandestine meetings filled his time and ensured he made no solid commitment to anyone.

  What he didn’t understand now was why holding Avery had caused such a stir in his body. He’d done far more very regularly with a wide array of women. Why would simply holding her make him tighten so?

  Was it the danger? The fact that she was innocent? The knowledge that they’d marry?

  He’d purposefully chosen a woman he’d never even seen until now so that he would not have to deal with attraction or any other unwanted feelings of commitment.

  This was not the plan.

  But how did he withdraw now?

  She looked at him then, her hands folding in her lap. “May I ask you some more questions?”

  His jaw clenched, a muscle ticcing in his cheek. Questions? Now? He could barely sift through his own thoughts. “I suppose.”

  She stared at him in the dark for several moments before she finally spoke. “Where are we going?”

  He relaxed back into his seat. That was one question he could answer. “I already told you, my country estate.”

  She cleared her throat. “Is your country estate in a secret location? Can you give me the county perhaps?”

  Despite himself, he smiled. And then a small chuckle passed his lips. She might look vulnerable, but she had an edge. The very kind he liked. “Very secret. I can’t even tell you the country.”

  Silence stretched between them and then she laughed. A light and bright sound that tinkled like a bell and tickled his ears. Christ, it tickled other unmentionable places too.

  “Did you,” she started between laughs. “Did you just make a joke?”

  “I believe I did,” he answered. Then he sat forward again. “If you’ll permit me, I’m going to wait to say more until after we’ve left the city.”

  He heard her sharp intake of breath. And then she looked behind her on one side and then the other.

  Without warning, she rose from the seat and, unable to fully stand, she hunched over to cross the carriage. She settled next to him, squeezing herself between him and the wall.

  The softness of her hip pressed against him. He slid over a bit so that she more comfortably fit on the seat and his arm came across the back of the bench to clasp her narrow shoulder in his hand.

  “Are we in danger still?” she whispered, then she looked up at him, her large brown eyes swimming with uncertainty and vulnerability and… He clenched his jaw again, resisting the urge to kiss her.

  He was a seasoned rake, for fuck’s sake. How could this woman strip him of so much control? “We can’t be too careful,” he replied. He truly worried that they might be, but she needn’t. He pulled her a touch closer. “But try not to be concerned. Decadence chose me to protect you for a reason.”

  Inwardly, he cringed. The real reason Decadence had chosen him was that there was no one else left. All the other men had married, or were about to, in their little group. Which was fitting. No man would trust him with a woman’s life otherwise.

  He thought of Lily again. His little sister.

  The woman he was supposed to protect. He shivered as he thought of her.

  “My lord?” Avery asked, her voice trembling.

  “Call me Noah,” he said, attempting a light tone.

  She didn’t nod or even murmur her agreement. Instead, she cocked her head to the side. “I felt you tremble. Are you afraid?”

  He squeezed her shoulder tighter. Perhaps he should kiss her after all. After all these years, he was quite good at it and it would surely distract her. “I’m not afraid. I just caught a cold draft.”

  She didn’t answer as she continued to stare up at him. The carriage stopped rumbling over stone and started bouncing on wooden slats. She leaned away from him then, peering out the window. “We’re headed north.”

  He didn’t answer. She was right. The sun had started lightening the sky to the east. He contemplated her profile more clearly, the fullness of her lips, the slender column of her neck. He wished he wasn’t so aware of the delicate details of her face. Of her. “You should lay your head on my shoulder and get some sleep.”

  She let the curtain fall from her hand. “I’m not that tired.”

  He doubted that but he didn’t argue. Instead, he gave her arm a gentle tug. She leaned against him, her cheek resting on his shoulder. Once again, he wrapped the arm about her, settling her deeper against him as he too leaned back and to the side so they might stretch out a bit.

  She was warm fitted against him, and her hand came to rest on his chest.
It was a simple gesture of intimacy, but he stared down at her hand for the longest time. He’d known women for less time and done far more intimate acts. But somehow, this touch, her hand on his chest, filled him with an uncomfortable need to pull her even closer.

  Chapter Three

  When Avery woke, the sun was high in the sky, birds chirping away as distant voices drifted into the interior of the carriage. She lifted her head. Was it her imagination or was the carriage at a complete stop?

  She rubbed her eyes. When had they stopped?

  Her body was still pressed into Noah’s side, her hand resting on his chest. For its muscular firmness, it had made a lovely pillow. She flexed her fingers, feeling the ripple of muscle beneath his clothing. He stirred underneath her, trailing his hand from her shoulder where it still rested down her arm to her elbow.

  But he didn’t stop there.

  His fingers pressed to the indent of her waist and then began tracing the flare of her hip.

  Avery swallowed a yelp as tingling pooled in her core. She sat up quickly, pushing off the muscles she’d just been admiring.

  The shove seemed to wake him more fully and he blinked open his eyes giving her a sleepy grin.

  Had she thought the man handsome last night when he’d scowled? Like this he was…devastating. A woman could drown in that soft, sleepy look.

  His hand was still on her hip and he gave the flesh a squeeze as his grin widened. “Good morning.”

  “I believe it might be the afternoon,” she answered, looking back at his hand still lightly massaging her hip beneath her skirts. While the intimacy was disconcerting, the light touch continued to be delightful.

  “Did you get any sleep?”

  She stared down at him. He wasn’t the least bit concerned about where his hand had wandered? And what he was doing to her body and mind? “My lord,” she started. Then she rose from the bench to cross back to hers. Distance was best in this situation.

  And that’s when she saw his breeches.

  Her gasp filled the carriage.

  His pants were rather fitted and…

  Noah sat up straighter pulling his jacket down over his hips. “You seemed quite comfortable tucked against me, I’m assuming you did all right?”

  “I don’t think…” Her face burned. Because she had been comfortable with his feel, his touch, his hand and even…

  “Not going to answer my question?”

  She sat down on the other bench with a decided plop. Her cheeks radiated heat as she looked at him across the small interior of the buggy. Drawing in a cleansing gulp of air, she attempted to collect her wits. “You’ve hardly answered a single one I’ve asked. I’m only returning the courtesy.”

  He raised a brow, but his smile only grew wider.

  “What’s so funny?” she harrumphed, feeling like a fool. He was completely comfortable with both touching her and whatever had been happening below his waist while she struggled for composure.

  “I’m just noting that you’re not all that sunny when you wake. It’s good to know.”

  She harrumphed again, crossing her arms. “I am perfectly sunny. These are extenuating circumstances, and your hands were wandering.”

  He chuckled then, his ease only making her more uncomfortable. She had no plans to be with any man. The last thing she wished for was his touch to have so much affect on her.

  “Forgive my hands. They were curious.”

  “That is hardly an apology.”

  He chuckled again. “We must be stopping to change the horses. Shall we get something to eat?”

  “Fine,” she replied.

  He reached across to the seat next to her, leaning close. So close, she could smell him again, a scent she’d become familiar with as she’d slept, but it still hit her nose with a mix of excitement and comfort. Leather and cigar and pine mingled together in a pleasant concoction.

  He grabbed the satchel from next to her hip, his hand grazing her again. She pulled back a bit and he only chuckled louder, as he pulled the satchel onto his lap and pulled out her veil. “To protect your identity.”

  She didn’t reach for the silky fabric. Partially because she didn’t wish to touch him. He’d knocked her off kilter with his feel, and his smell, and the ease of which he handled the entire situation.

  He held the garment further out, but her hands remained in her lap. “I’m not going to wear it.”

  That made his smile slip. “You said it yourself. It’s the best way to hide your identity.”

  “I’ve decided I don’t care about hiding my identity.”

  He dropped his hand and his features hardened, the smile disappearing as his mouth dropped back into a frown. She cocked her head, trying to decide which look suited him more. Something about the sternness accentuated his masculine features, not that he looked frightening. Whatever else she might say about him, he didn’t scare her. Strange considering what a bully her father had been. Whenever he frowned, his wife and his daughter had understood that something terrible was coming their way.

  It might have been a smack or a lengthy lecture about how absolutely useless they both were or how he deserved so much better in life. She’d always found that particular discussion odd. Her father had joined a ring of criminals when he’d run through her mother’s inheritance. Then he’d stolen from the family business, nearly bankrupting her cousins. Finally, he’d managed to get himself killed.

  “Not protect your identity? Why is that?”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. He’d not answered a single one of her questions. She was not about to answer his. “Where are we going? Why did Bash agree to this plan? Were those men from last night the same that killed my uncle and father?”

  He paused then letting out a long breath. “Fair enough.”

  Her chin notched a bit higher, but she had to be honest she appreciated that he had not grown angry in the face of her defiance. Her father would have lost his senses if she’d spoken to him that way. “I’ll start answering your questions when you answer mine.”

  He ran his hand through his hair and then scrubbed his neck. “I can answer a great deal of them on the next leg of our journey but not here while we’re surrounded by people.” Then he held up the veil again. “Though unlikely, we might have been followed. The veil helps to keep you safe. So, if you would please wear it, I’ll be most appreciative. It makes the job of keeping you safe easier.”

  Well, that was a solid point. “I concede,” she said reaching for the veil. “But this afternoon, you are answering some of my questions that you previously ignored.”

  “Understood,” he answered and handed her the black strip of lace fabric. Then he peeked out the window. “Mr. Underwood?”

  “Yes, my lord,” a man said. Avery recognized his voice as the driver from the night before.

  “Is it safe for us to come out?” Noah asked as she adjusted the veil over her head, casting the world into a hazy grey.

  “It is. I’ve pulled behind the stables.”

  “Very good,” he answered and then reached over and snapped open the door. “I’ll be sure to get us a private dining room so that you may push back the veil to eat.”

  Was that why he thought she’d objected to the veil? “I’m sure I’ll manage.”

  He stepped out and then offered his arm. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to introduce you as my widowed sister.”

  She nodded. It was as good a ruse as any. “All right. And what will my name be?”

  He cleared his throat. “My family name is Everly. Why don’t we use that?”

  Mrs. Everly? The name made her pulse jump. She didn’t wish to marry. Why should a name like that please her? Was it because it was attached to him or was she softening toward the idea of marriage? “Thank you for your efforts,” she said. “I appreciate the lengths you’ve gone to keep me safe.”

  He gave a stiff nod, but his mouth remained in a frown. His shoulders had grown rigid… “You’re welcome.”

 
She looked at him and attempted to discern his mood. She was wearing the veil as he’d requested, and she’d acknowledged his help by thanking him. What had happened to the relaxed, smiling man who’d just been in the carriage with her?

  Avery gave him a sidelong glance. His mood had changed when they’d discussed his family name.

  “When we arrive wherever we’re going, will I meet your family?”

  He stopped at the edge of the barn, looking about the street before he stepped out and led her to the tavern that was only a few buildings away. His arm grew so tense under her hand, she thought it might break. “I don’t have any family. Not anymore.”

  Her heart turned over in her chest. That was a pain she knew well. “I understand. I’ve lost my family too.”

  He gave a nod. “Let’s not discuss it now, Mrs. Everly. We’re both famished, I’m sure.”

  She held in a sigh. Yet another topic they weren’t discussing. But her curiosity had been piqued. What had happened in his past to make him so tense?

  Avery had gone quiet under the veil. He’d secured a table, ordered food, and now they sat in a room alone, the silence expanding uncomfortably around them.

  “Did you get any sleep?” he asked, hating the veil that masked her expression.

  “You already asked me that. Remember?” She folded her hands in front of her on the table. “I did fine, considering.”

  “Considering?” he asked, grasping at anything.

  She paused for a moment. “I’d rather not discuss it now.”

  His brows drew together. What did that mean? “All right.”

  But then the silence returned. She sat straight in her chair and if he wasn’t mistaken, she stared at him through the fabric, but spoke not a word. The innkeeper had come and gone and now only the distant sound of the common room filtered into the quiet.

  “We must have met before. Were you at Isabella’s wedding?”

  Again, she stared at him. “I don’t think we should talk about that.”