Earl of Hearts

by Meara Platt

  Blessed Mother. What was in this book?

  Nicola glanced up at him, her eyes wide with fear.

  John waited a moment longer to be certain they were alone in the garden, then he eased her away from the thicket. “You’re coming with me.”

  “Where?” she asked, trying her best not to stumble in the darkness as he dragged her toward the stable where his horse remained at the ready. He wanted to take Jordan’s horse for Nicola, but that would leave Jordan trapped. Besides, Nicola was not a good enough rider to manage a gallop on horseback in the dark of night, not on a horse she’d never ridden over terrain that was not familiar to her.

  He had no choice but to have her ride with him.

  “We’re going to Inverness and from there to Edinburgh. I’ll leave you with the Royal Scots Dragoon Guards. You’ll be safe in their hands.”

  “You’re going to leave me there?”

  John ignored the plaintive tone in her question. “Somersby is desperate to recover this book. I don’t know what it contains, but I suspect it is something important to the Crown. If so, I’ll need to get it to London and into the hands of the Prince Regent as soon as possible. I can travel faster on my own. But first, I need to make certain you are safe. The regimental commander will protect you while I’m gone.”

  “But he isn’t you, John.”

  “Damn it, Nicola. I can’t take you with me. I’ll come back for you as soon as I’ve handed the book over to the royal authorities. I promise.”

  “You won’t forget?”

  He wanted to laugh out loud. Forget this girl who now filled his nightly dreams? He wasn’t certain just when he’d gone from loving her as a sister to loving her in a completely different and carnal way. But one thing was certain. He’d always loved her. “No, I won’t forget.”

  He motioned for her to be quiet and told her to stay behind the stable while he climbed into the hayloft to make certain none of Somersby’s men were lying in wait for them. He’d be able to see all that was going on in the stable from his vantage point.

  Two of Somersby’s men were hiding near the stalls.

  He crept behind the first man and quietly knocked him out. He did the same to the second man. Only the young groom remained. Would the frightened boy call out in alarm? John tossed him another coin. “I won’t hurt you, lad. Bring my mount to the rear of the stable, then count to twenty and run off to report my escape to Lord Somersby.”

  “Oy don’t ’ave to tell ’im a thing, m’lord. You can clobber me, too. One good wallop to knock me out. Please m’lord. It’ll be easier that way.”

  John had never struck a child before.

  Nor would he ever.

  Not after… he shook out of the haunted memories. “Sorry, lad. Can’t do it. Here, I’ll tie you up and gag you. Never mind about bringing my horse around back. Courtyard’s clear. I’ll do it myself. Tell him you heard me say something about catching a boat at Fort William.”

  John knew he’d wasted precious minutes, but he worked fast to bind the boy’s hands and was rewarded by the look of relief in the lad’s eyes. “As soon as he rides away, I want you to find Lord Darnley and tell him that I have his niece and she’s safe with me. Make certain none of Lord Somersby’s men hear you or you’ll be putting us all in greater danger, even yourself. Understand?”

  “Aye, m’lord.”

  “Good.” He gagged the boy, then quietly led Valor to the back of the stable where Nicola was waiting. He lifted her onto the saddle and quietly cursed himself for the fire that shot through him the moment his hands circled her waist. “Hold tight to that book,” he said, making certain she was securely perched in front of him as he mounted behind her and swallowed her in his arms.

  She nodded and clutched the book to her chest, giving a little gasp when he suddenly spurred Valor to a gallop.

  Despite the wintery chill now in the air, John felt as though his body was engulfed in flames. Nicola’s soft curves were plastered to his hard chest. Her sweet roses and apples scent mingled with the scent of the pine and heather that surrounded them.

  He ought to have been shivering with cold.

  He ought to have been shivering with fear, for Somersby and his men could not have been more than a few steps behind them.

  But all he felt was an odd contentment. Nicola was in his arms, almost lost within his jacket that was still wrapped around her like a blanket. This was where she belonged. With him. “My aunt and uncle,” she said, raising her voice slightly to be heard above the wind.

  “They’ll be safe. Jordan will protect them.”

  She laughed lightly. “No, John. You needn’t sound so pained. I know you’re worried about them, but they can take care of themselves. What I mean to say is that my aunt and uncle will protect Mr. Drummond. The marquis won’t dare harm them, not while so many of their Society friends are watching. I doubt he even cares about them now. He’s desperate to find us. Do you know what’s in this book?”

  He shook his head and groaned. “Something illegal, possibly treasonous. Something that I was sent here to investigate. If he’s involved, it will get him hanged. What possessed you to do something so reckless?”

  “I am not reckless. I’m… I don’t quite know what I am. But Somersby said something to me on the ride back from MacNaughton’s Tavern that alarmed me. He doesn’t love me.”

  “That’s alarming.”

  She frowned at him. “My point is I think he’s using me to hurt someone close to me. I had to find out who. Can you blame me for wanting to protect those I love? I don’t know what else is in this book, but I hope it reveals the identity of the person he’s seeking to destroy. It could be my uncle or Julian. I can’t imagine who else values me enough.”

  “You’d be surprised.”

  She snorted. “Doubtful. This is my third season and I’m firmly on the shelf.”

  He drew her up hard against him. “Nicola, there is someone out there who loves you more than anything in this world, who cares for you more than he cares for his own life. Trust me. He’s out there.”

  “John, you are a terrible liar. But thank you.”

  He made no comment in return, for he’d said too much already.

  They rode in silence for several more hours, heading northeast toward Fort Augustus and traveling as fast as they dared in the dark. Once there, he’d have to find a boat to take them up Loch Ness to Inverness. The boat would have to be big enough to carry Valor, for he wasn’t leaving this beautiful horse behind. While he trusted the locals to return the powerful stallion to Drummond Stables where he or Jordan could pick him up later, there was no telling what Somersby would do if he got his hands on the majestic beast first.

  John slowed Valor as they rode over an uneven hillock, concerned that he might stumble and injure himself.

  The terrain was rugged in this area.

  The crags were plentiful and dangerous.

  They were riding along the Fraser border, familiar territory to him, and John debated whether to forgo the boat and remain on horseback, turning south toward MacPherson land. He and Nicola could spend the night at Cluny Castle, the ancestral home of one of his school mates, Malcolm Gordon. If Malcolm was in residence, then perhaps he could leave Nicola in Malcolm’s care while he rode on alone to London without going to Edinburgh first. He’d make much faster time without her. And staying on as a guest at Cluny Castle wouldn’t be a hardship for Nicola. She would have a hot meal at least twice a day, a hot bath whenever she wished, and a soft, clean bed to sleep in every night.

  No, he decided almost at once. Malcolm was a scholar, not a fighter. He wouldn’t know how to protect Nicola if Somersby forced his way in.

  In truth, John wasn’t certain he could leave Nicola behind even if Malcolm was capable of fighting off Somersby and his vermin.

  His heart would not allow it.

  Nicola was his to protect.

  Could he leave her in Edinburgh with the regimental commander?

  He gathered he
r more securely in his arms, for their tense escape had exhausted her and she appeared to be falling asleep, lulled by the steady, loping stride of his horse. He’d worry about what to do with Nicola once they reached Edinburgh. Logically, he knew that she would be safe and well guarded there. He knew that it was wisest to ride off on his own to deliver the ledger into the Prince Regent’s hands.

  But he was never logical when it came to Nicola.

  Valor suddenly lurched forward, jolting John out of his musings and almost unseating him from the saddle. “Damn.”

  The stallion recovered immediately, but appeared to be favoring his front right foot slightly.

  “John, what’s wrong?” Their near fall had shaken Nicola out of her sleepy haze and she cast him a worried look.

  “Valor must have stepped on something sharp or gotten a pebble lodged in his shoe.” He dismounted and helped her to dismount while he quickly checked the extent of the damage to his horse’s hooves, especially that front right hoof. “We’ll have to stop in Fort Augustus and find a blacksmith to tend to him. It shouldn’t delay us too long. I’ll need a little time to secure our passage on a boat to Inverness anyway.”

  He breathed a sigh of relief upon finding nothing wrong, but he had the horse trot in a circle around them a few times to be sure he was in no lingering discomfort.

  “He seems fine.” John turned to Nicola. “Let me help you back into the saddle.” He still intended to stop at the blacksmith shop. No harm in making certain Valor hadn’t been injured.

  Nicola held onto his shoulders as he lifted her up.

  He climbed on behind her and drew her close, trying to convince himself it was only because Nicola needed the warmth of his body. It had nothing to do with his fiery ache for her. No, nothing to do with him.

  Nothing to do with his heart. “We’re about an hour’s ride from Fort Augustus. We’ll get there shortly before sunrise, but we may have to wait around until the shops open. You need warm clothes. Sturdy boots and stockings.” He would purchase a woolen cloak or heavy scarf for her, as well.

  Her teeth chattered as she nodded. “Yes, I’m cold.”

  “You must be hungry, too.” He’d look for an inn or tavern to secure a hot meal for both of them.

  “Famished, but anything will do. We can eat while on the run, if we must.” She attempted to stifle a yawn, but it didn’t fool him.

  “I can see that you’re exhausted,” John said. “Rest your head on my shoulder. Close your eyes and try to sleep. I have no food to give you or blanket to keep you warm. But I can offer you my shoulder as a pillow. It may not be the most comfortable—”

  “It’s perfect.” She turned slightly to snuggle against him. She was now facing him and her breasts were lightly pressing against his chest.

  Had he not been holding her close for hours, he would have shot out of his saddle at the heavenly touch.

  Had Nicola noticed the quickening beat of his heart?

  He was responding and it wasn’t even direct contact. His jacket was still wrapped around her, providing an added layer between them. But it did not seem to matter. He felt her against him.

  He felt her softness.

  He felt her every lush curve.

  Mostly, he felt her chipping away at the thick stone wall surrounding his heart.

  He held her tightly against him as she began to drift off to sleep, wanting to protect her from the worst of the bitter cold. It was a bone-seeping chill. She had to be half frozen in her thin, silk gown.

  She’d never once complained.

  His lips twitched in the hint of a smile when he heard her light snores a short while later and knew she’d given in to her exhaustion. He was glad she’d managed to fall asleep. They rode on without incident and John breathed a sigh of relief when the town of Fort Augustus came into view shortly before sunrise. “Nicola?”

  Her eyes were closed and her breaths were soft and steady.

  He bent his head slightly and kissed the top of her head. “I’m glad you’re alive, brat.”

  She gave a sleepy purr. “Did you just kiss me?”

  “No, brat.”

  She purred again, a soft, kittenish sound that stirred him in places that should not be stirred while she was pressed so tightly against him. “It felt like a kiss.”

  “It wasn’t. You’ll know when I kiss you.”

  “I will?” She smiled against his chest. “John, promise to do it soon.”

  “Go back to sleep, Nicola.”

  Bollocks, what had he gotten himself into?

  CHAPTER 5

  JOHN CAST HIS gaze skyward and gave muttered thanks when he found the blacksmith shop open. They’d reached Fort Augustus shortly before dawn and he wasn’t certain how early the townspeople stirred. Early, he realized, hearing the sound of wagons and wooden carts rattling over the cobblestone road. This was a seafaring town. Several fishermen were up and about, setting off to catch their trout and salmon from the local streams. Boatmen were already sailing out to sea in search of bigger catch that would keep them out for days or weeks until the hulls of their vessels were weighed down by fish to sell.

  All that mattered to John was that he did not have to waste time pounding on doors to obtain the goods he needed. Several shopkeepers were already in their shops, preparing to open for the day. Innkeepers had lit their fires and were serving their patrons a morning meal. The scent of eggs and sausages and freshly made bread tickled his nostrils and made his mouth water.

  He left Nicola at the blacksmith shop while he hurried down to the dock to secure a boat for them. The air was warming, but the loch remained cold. The clash of hot sun striking cold waters created an eerie mist that rose above the white-capped waves and crept over the vessels moored in the harbor like smoky wraiths waiting to steal unguarded souls.

  John strode along the wooden pier, taking in all the sights and sounds and pungent smells. His senses were heightened, as always. He was on the alert for Somersby and his men. But all seemed calm. Several women were talking and laughing as they set up their stalls beside the dock to sell their fish. He heard the groan of anchor ropes as they eased and strained against the ships that floated on the gently lapping waves.

  His own footsteps sounded loud to his ears, but few people seemed to notice him as he made his way along the dock in search of a boat to carry them to Inverness. It did not take him long to find a willing captain, a burly, leathery-skinned Scot by the name of Alexander Grant. He gave the man a few coins as a deposit. “I’ll be back within the hour.”

  “Take yer time, my lord. I ain’t in no rush.” He closed his beefy fist around the coins and grinned.

  John returned to the blacksmith shop to fetch Nicola. Their next stop was at one of the local inns for a meal. They’d take whatever was available. He did not care if it was last night’s stew or salted pork or week-old, smoked kippers. Anything hot would do. Oatmeal was a popular Scottish fare meant to warm a person’s blood and nourish his bones.

  Nicola was in need of that, for she was little and slender, and not used to this hardship.

  Her stomach was rumbling.

  So was his.

  They settled in the common room of one of the more pleasant-looking inns. John ordered a hearty meal for both of them and allowed himself a moment to escape from their worries. Valor was shod. Boat hired. Food now brought to them piping hot and smelling heavenly. All that remained was to obtain suitable clothes for Nicola.

  He hoped the ladies’ shops would open by the time they finished eating.

  “John, this food is delicious,” Nicola said, taking another spoonful of the hearty leek soup they’d decided to order. The tavern proprietor had delivered it to them with a loaf of bread that was hot, crusty, and steaming, it was that fresh out of his oven.

  John eased back in his chair, his attention divided between Nicola and the window that afforded him an unobstructed view of the street. He was always on the lookout for Somersby and his men, his pistols always at the ready. �
�Don’t eat too fast. You’ll make yourself ill.”

  She smiled up at him, her big, green eyes wide as she spared him a mere glance before digging into her soup again. “I’ll try not to. But I’m so hungry and everyone is staring at us. What must they think?”

  He shrugged. “Does it matter?”

  She blushed. “It does to me. We are alone, no chaperone in sight. I’m dressed in a delicate, silk evening gown that would not keep a mouse warm on a summer’s day, and I have your jacket wrapped around my shoulders. You must be half frozen.”

  “I’m fine.” Riding for hours with Nicola’s body pressed against his had generated enough fire inside him to keep him warm even under the full blast of an icy winter storm.

  She sighed. “I suppose I’m foolish to worry about our lack of a chaperone when I was the one who got us into this mess.”

  “None of this is your fault.” He sopped up the last of his soup with the warm bread until there wasn’t so much as a drop left on his plate. He had a cup of tea and then washed it down with ale. “Are you ready? Let’s find you some warm clothes to wear.”

  She smiled at him again.

  His heart shot into his throat.

  He was in trouble.

  He hadn’t slept all night and Nicola had managed maybe thirty minutes. They were on the run from villains intent on killing them. They hadn’t washed, and they’d just devoured their food like vultures feeding on a boar carcass. Yet, he’d never felt more content. Nicola’s smile was sweet and beautiful and all he could think about was how splendid she looked, and how badly he wanted to hold her in his arms again.

  He shook out of the thought as they rose to leave. While most of the locals appeared merely curious, some were frowning at him and Nicola. He understood why. These Scots were moral, churchgoing people with a pride in their heritage and a dislike for all things English. A few of them were old enough to have been alive during the Jacobite uprisings. For most of them, their parents or grandparents would have lived through those unsettled times and told them stories about it. He suspected that more than a few old-timers were still hoping to resurrect Bonnie Prince Charlie and start a new rebellion.