by Meara Platt
Obviously, they were no longer talking about pies. “Nicola—”
“Just go, John. You needn’t say anything more to me. I’d like to get into the tub while the water’s still warm.”
He could have cleared up the misunderstanding with ease. One kiss. One confession of love. Kissing her on Captain Grant’s boat had been a mistake. Kissing her again would change everything.
He had murderers to hunt down. He still sought vengeance for his family.
He wasn’t ready for his life to change.
Not that he had doubts about Nicola. Any doubts were about himself. Could he give up his quest?
His thirst for revenge defined him. It’s what had turned him into one of the Crown’s most effective agents. It’s what had turned his heart to stone.
He left their quarters, waited to hear Nicola latch the door after him, and then took a quick walk around the inn. He scouted the common rooms and then the grounds, taking in the best routes of escape should the need arise. He walked to the stable and took note of several carriages and horses other than this own.
“M’lord, ye needn’t worry about yer horse,” the young groom said. “I’ve fed ’im and groomed ’im.”
The lad appeared to have a natural love of animals. John had seen it in the way he’d handled Valor when they’d first arrived. “I have no doubt. But I rode him a long way and thought I’d bring him a treat.” He’d picked up an apple that had fallen off one of the trees he’d passed along the path and now handed it over. “Care to feed him?”
“Thank you, m’lord!” The boy nodded and took off with it to Valor’s stall. “Look what I have for ye,” he cooed to John’s massive beast and continued to stroke and compliment him while feeding him the apple. “Ye’re the finest horse I’ve ever seen. Perhaps the finest in all of Scotland. But ye know it, don’t ye?”
As though in response, Valor gently nudged the boy’s shoulder. “Och,” he said with a genuinely merry laugh, “ye do know it. No humbleness in ye, is there? Ye know ye’re the best.”
John could not recall when he had ever felt such youthful pleasure. It seemed odd that such innocence should flourish at this inn where everyone who stayed here harbored secrets and deceptions.
He returned to the quarters he shared with Nicola a short while later. She’d finished her bath and was now wrapped in the slightly too big robe that Adela Fraser had provided to her. She’d brushed out her wet hair so that it fell down her back in a glorious, red wave. He caught the scent of the lavender soap she’d used on her body. The fragrance lingered in the air and blended with the steam off the bath water and the smoke of the hickory wood fire.
By the open book of accounts on the table, he realized she had been studying its contents while waiting for his return. “The bath water is still warm, John.”
She looked delectable.
He wanted to strip her out of her robe and haul her into the tub with him. He’d left to cool his ardor, but he’d no sooner taken a step into the room than it was back with full force. The thought of Nicola’s silky, pink skin, still damp from its earlier washing, had him hot and aching.
He wanted to lift her into his arms and carry her to bed.
He would have done it, but he smelled worse than an unkempt stable, certainly worse than Sammy Fraser or his boys. He removed his jacket and shirt, and was about to toss them onto the settee when Nicola cleared her throat. He’d thought she’d gone back to deciphering Somersby’s book. But she must have been slipping him glances whenever his back was turned. “Are you still angry with me?” He wouldn’t have blamed her if she was.
“No.”
He sank onto the settee beside the clothing he’d just removed and tugged off his boots. He wasn’t certain he believed her, but anything was better than resuming that painful discussion and hurting her feelings again. He was glad that she’d distracted herself by attempting to decipher the book. “Find anything interesting in there?”
She nodded. “Actually, I think I did. These entries are written in some sort of code. That’s why I couldn’t make sense of them when we were sifting through the pages last night. So we just need to figure out what each letter represents and then we’ll be able to read the words.”
“I thought as much. Close your eyes.”
“Why?”
“I’m about to take off my breeches. Not that I mind your looking at me, but I felt I ought to give you fair warning.”
Her cheeks turned to crimson flames. “Um… oh… yes, I see. I’ll shade my eyes and concentrate on this cipher.”
“You do that.” He shed the last of his clothes and sank into the tub with an aaah. The water had cooled, but was still warm enough to soothe the ache in his bones. Not that he was very sore, for he was used to riding over long distances. In truth, the only part of him that ached was his heart.
What was he going to do about Nicola?
He shook out of the thought and concentrated on washing the dirt off his body. Since they had only the one tub, and he had no wish to impose further on Adela’s generosity by demanding a fresh bath be brought in, he’d used the same water that Nicola had rinsed in. It was fairly clean. And there was a full pail of fresh water beside the tub that he now used to wash his hair.
Their clothes had absorbed most of the road dust, and although he hated to leave them without clothing even for a few minutes, he decided to ring for a servant to take them for a quick cleaning. “Ah, Adela provided sandalwood for me. I was afraid I’d be forced to use one of your scented soaps. Not that I would mind smelling like a rose. Or a lavender cake.”
“I used the lavender.”
“I know,” he said while scrubbing himself down. “I caught the scent of it on your skin when I walked in.”
“It’s divine, isn’t it?” She glanced at him, realized he was naked in the tub, and hastily looked away.
He finished washing his hair and then ran his fingers through it to brush it off his face. Sparing a look at Nicola to be sure she wasn’t peeking, he climbed out of the tub and dried himself off with one of the large cloths Adela had directed the servants to bring in along with the other comforts.
The woman knew her clientele and made certain to anticipate their every need.
He wrapped the cloth securely around his waist and then strode to the bellpull to summon a servant. A young woman promptly arrived at their door. John gave her their clothing. “See that they’re freshened and brought back to us within the hour.”
She bobbed a curtsy. “Yes, m’lord.”
He closed the door and turned back to Nicola.
She had the prettiest blush on her cheeks, and even from across the room, he could see that the pulse at the base of her throat was madly throbbing.
He strode to her side and pulled out the chair next to hers, taking a moment to serve himself a tart and pour himself a cup of tea before speaking. “Have you made any progress with these ciphers?”
Nicola was fidgeting like a ferret in her chair. “No. John, must you sit so close to me?”
He arched an eyebrow. “How am I to look at the book if I sit across the table from you?”
“You’re naked.”
He glanced down at the drying cloth that was covering all of him below his waist. “Unless you’ve suddenly developed the ability to see through fabric, I would say that I’m as well covered as you are.”
“Which is hardly at all.”
He ran a hand through his hair. Less than an hour ago, she was ready to bare her heart and body to him. He supposed he’d hurt her very badly, allowing her to believe that this would not be a forever marriage.
Their marital state would have to be permanent. Her family would never allow him to walk away at the end of the handfasting period. Nor could the scandal of these days and nights spent together ever be taken back. It did not matter that they were running for their lives. It did not matter that he’d given her no more than a kiss up to now.
Her family would insist on their remaining marr
ied for that kiss alone. He glanced at Nicola, who was still fidgeting and whose pulse at her throat was still throbbing.
He needed to make matters right.
He took one of her small hands in both of his, surprising her with his touch. “I know we’d both rather avoid this topic, but I don’t see how we can. Nicola, let’s start this conversation again.”
She eyed him suspiciously, but did not attempt to draw her hand away. “Which conversation?”
“The one where I left you believing that our marriage would come to an end once Somersby was brought into custody.”
She emitted a ragged breath. “What are you saying? That it won’t end?”
He stroked his thumb along her palm, loving the softness of her skin. “Not unless you want it to. I won’t end it. I have no desire to end it.”
“You don’t?” She met his gaze and held it for an endless moment. “For my sake or for yours?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes, it matters very much to me.”
He sighed. “For both our sakes then. This Scottish marriage won’t be recognized in England, but that makes it no less valid. I’ll obtain a special license once we cross into England. We’ll be properly married under English law as soon as possible after that.”
“Wait, are you saying that you won’t leave me behind in Edinburgh?” Her eyes widened in surprise as the realization sank in.
“I’ve decided not to.”
“What changed your mind?”
A muscle twitched in his jaw. “Many reasons.”
How could he explain these feelings roiling inside of him without baring his own heart and soul? Although it had been his original plan to deposit her with the regimental commander, he now knew that she would never be safe until Somersby and his operation was destroyed. That vile scum would come after her no matter how many soldiers were guarding her, no matter how thick the walls in the regimental garrison.
If Somersby was so obsessed with doing harm to someone in Nicola’s family and using her to accomplish it—and if it was a case of vengeance, John knew all too well how strong the tug of that could be—then Somersby’s compulsion might send him after Nicola first. Not the book of accounts.
“Name one reason for your change of heart,” Nicola said, interrupting his thoughts.
“You’re mine to protect. It was a mistake on my part to believe that you’d be safer without me.” Indeed, since nobody understood hatred and revenge better than he did, there was no one better able to protect Nicola than him.
She cast him a hesitant smile. “Name another reason, John.”
“I won’t have you shamed or made the subject of scandal. You’re my wife and I mean to ensure you’ll have the respect you deserve. And before you mouth off to me, which you will, because that’s what you do,” he continued with a grin, “I—”
“John!”
“I don’t mind that you’re not meek or biddable. If I wanted that, I could have chosen a wife from a dozen brainless debutantes who cared not a whit for me, but fancied my title. So, to be clear about who I want and what I want… it’s you. Forever.”
“Forever,” she said in a whisper and released her breath in a frail shudder. But her lips began to twitch and tip upward in an almost smile. “That’s quite the ardent confession. My head is spinning. I think I might swoon.”
He winced. “I’m hardly one of those romantic poets who happen to be all the rage in London at the moment.”
“No, not even close.” She finally did smile, although hesitantly. “Thank you, John.”
He did not deserve her gratitude. She was the one who was saving him from a life of angry solitude. She was the one who gave him hope that his life might become something more than a quest for revenge.
He released her hand to wolf down the last of the light repast sitting on a tray on the table. Nicola had eaten a little, probably not enough. He’d order a full supper brought to them later tonight.
He then drank his cup of tea, slogging it back as though it were a pint of ale. “Let’s have a closer look at those pages. How are you at breaking codes?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never tried before.” But to someone with a mind as agile as Nicola’s, he had no doubt she’d catch on quickly. “But before we start, there’s something I must ask.”
He nodded. “Go on.”
“I couldn’t help but notice the scars on your back. How did you get them? They look old.”
“It doesn’t matter. They aren’t important.”
Nicola must have caught the angry rise in his voice. She edged back in her chair, more irritated with him than intimidated by his scowl. “Not important? Something so trivial, you’ve forgotten all about it? I suppose those scars are what turned you into the jovial, outgoing man you are today. A Johnny-good-times. Always laughing. Always filled with good cheer for one and all.”
“It’s none of your business, Nicola.”
She shook her head and sighed. “Fine. You’ll tell me when you feel the time is right. Perhaps later this evening, after you take me to bed and we perform our expected mating dance, spawning like frenzied salmon in—”
“Bollocks! Who puts these ideas into your head?” He rose and strode across the room to stand before the fire blazing in the hearth. That’s how hot his anger burned for those who had destroyed his family. But it was also how hot his desire burned for Nicola.
The blasted girl had a rapier-sharp mind and just as sharp a tongue. He liked that about her, but at times—such as now—he wished she was a simpleton. Lord, she knew just how to rile him. He wanted to be angry with her, but instead, he threw his head back and laughed. “Spawning like salmon? Where did you hear such nonsense?”
“In one of those scandalous novels no innocent young woman is ever supposed to read. But I think the author misused the term. Spawning one’s eggs is what happens to a female fish after the act of… you know.”
“The frenzied mating.”
She nodded. “You do want that, don’t you, John? I mean, if we’re to have a real marriage. Is that what you had in mind when agreeing to a forever union between us? Because if it isn’t, then perhaps we ought to rethink the matter.”
He tossed another log onto the fire and watched the flames intensify. “No need to rethink. I’m… bollocks. I’m all in.”
CHAPTER 11
NICOLA WASN’T CERTAIN how she went from running for her life to jumping into bed with the one man she’d loved all her life. John had just told her that he was not going to end their Scottish marriage, that he was going to make it official as soon as they reached England. He was keeping her with him all the way to London, and keeping her with him forever afterward.
Before this night was through, he was going to take her innocence. At least, she hoped this is what he intended. For now, they were concentrating on the entries in the ledger and trying to decipher their meaning. Some were obviously numbers representing amounts paid or amounts owed. But the portions describing plans or listing names of buyers and shippers and goods transported were in an alphabetic code that made no sense. “Where are we to start, John?”
She tried to concentrate on the pages and not his body leaning so close to hers that she caught the scent of sandalwood on his golden skin. Although they were not touching, she felt a delicious heat radiating off him. “We look for words that seem to be repeating. Like these.” He pointed to several on the page that used the same letters. “These are four letters long. Maybe they represent the word ‘lord’ since most of the buyers of contraband merchandise are likely to be wealthy individuals who demand quality goods and don’t care if there is a war going on or that those goods must be smuggled into England.”
Nicola pointed to the sheet of parchment she’d asked the maid to fetch for her and nodded. “Oh, I see. So once we’re certain those ciphers represent L-O-R-D, then we can go through the page and figure out the rest of the ciphers. We can set up a coding chart on this blank paper. What if the sentences are written
in French?”
John gave a snorting laugh. “Somersby spent his university days drinking and womanizing. His father had to step in to keep him from being tossed out of Oxford on his ear. I doubt he’ll be so clever as to use a foreign language.”
“Very well. I suppose it will become obvious to us soon enough.” She set the book sideways so that they could both have a clear view of the pages. “Let me see if I can figure out this page. You work on the other page. This is so interesting.” Almost interesting enough to make her forget that a barely clad John, his muscled shoulders and broad chest spiking her heartbeat to dangerous proportions, was seated within a hair’s breadth of her.
John smiled at her, giving her one of the softest smiles she’d ever seen on him. His rare smiles were often polite and forced, and they looked more pained than heartfelt. But this one was different. It was a let-down-all-defenses smile that warmed her heart as nothing else could.
He arched an eyebrow. “You are looking at me as though I’m a strawberry cake topped with sweet cream.”
“I can’t help it. You’re handsome and naked and seated so close to me that I can feel the little fuzzy hairs on your arm tickle along my skin. I’m washed and well-fed and working on something important for the Crown. This is my idea of heaven. If it weren’t for a crazed beast ransacking the Highlands in search of us, I think this would count as one of the happiest days of my life. It will count as the happiest if you were to take me to that bed,” she said, glancing at the large four-poster situated right behind her.
“If?” His smile turned appealingly wicked.
She cleared her throat and nodded. “I did not wish to presume that you would… you know.”
“Frenzied mating?”
She laughed. “Yes, you wretch.”
