She gaped at him, completely taken aback. Did he really believe that?
He gazed back at her calmly. Sincerely.
Dear heavens. He did seem to believe it.
She shook her head. “No, I mean when did you crawl between that harpy’s legs?”
“Rebecca, please,” he chided her.
“When?” she insisted.
“Does it matter?”
“Yes!”
“I find the topic of Maria Seymour and her legs tedious.” He touched her lower lip, tracing his fingertip along slowly. “When I am with you, I don’t want to think about anyone or anything else.”
“Please don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what?”
“Touch me.”
“You’re mine. To have, to hold, to touch, to torment, whatever I choose.”
Chapter Thirteen
With the opiate holding the rat in his guts at bay, the ungodly burning that had tormented Stephen all during the previous night and morning was gone. The mutton stew was laden with carrots, potatoes and onions that must have been slow cooked with especial care for the taste was exceptionally rich. He hadn’t enjoyed a meal this much in some time.
Or was it just that he was so relieved to have her back safely with him?
Or that he felt so damned happy whenever he was near her, no matter the circumstances?
Whatever the reason, he ate with pleasure and it was only when his spoon scraped the bottom of the wooden bowl that he looked up to find Rebecca gazing off into space.
Damn. She still was in a shock of sorts. He had ordered his men to treat her gently. And Gerard had wilfully disregarded that order. That meant he could no longer be trusted. Something had happened there. Gerard was showing rebellion.
Something nagged at Stephen about that.
But he’d taken far too much opiate today. He hadn’t wanted to risk collapsing into a retching mass of pain in front of Rebecca. God, he was rather intoxicated, wasn’t he? Christ, he had gushed all that nonsense at her about love. Just when she was least open to hearing it.
He shook his head slightly trying to clear his mind. The chamber spun and a wave of giddiness washed over him. He rubbed his eyes and attempted to focus his thoughts.
It was so devilishly hard.
Gerard’s treatment of Rebecca.
Yes, right, that was it.
Such men were invaluable for the work Stephen did but they were also like curs, they needed harsh treatment and when they went bad, they had to be dealt with as any mad dog.
Stephen didn’t have the time to devote to the matter presently and so he had sent Gerard back to London on a fictional errand. He would have to deal with the man more permanently but later. Right now, he just wanted him as far from Rebecca as possible.
Rebecca looked up. Her pale eyes were glassy, the blue looked washed out, closer to grey. Her lips were pallid, appearing dry, and her cheeks were missing their usual delicate blush. Her soup remained untouched.
The rough treatment had left its mark on her. Tenderness gripped his heart. He’d have to do a lot of making up to her in order to atone for it. “What’s the matter, sweeting?”
“I should send a note to Lady Ruel. I was to accompany her and Viscount Midhurst to Blackmore Castle. Her daughters are ill and she wished to shield the heir from infection.”
“I know.”
“Oh, yes, you’ve a spy in their house.” Her tartness cut into him.
“There’s no need for you to send a note. I already sent one, making your excuses and explaining that you’re with me and will remain so for the time being.”
Her mouth fell open. “You did what?”
“I sent Ruel a message, I let him know the situation and that you are safe with me.”
“Ha! He despises you, he warned me about you. He will never think I am safe in your company.”
The subject of the Earl of Ruel began to pall. He gestured to her bowl. “Aren’t you hungry?”
She didn’t reply but glanced to the window.
“Rebecca,” he said, putting an edge into his voice.
She turned her head slightly, her eyes slowly moving to his.
“Aren’t you going to eat?”
She lifted one shoulder, weakly. Then she glanced at his bowl. “Do you want my portion?”
“I want you to eat something.”
She shook her head. “I couldn’t possibly.”
Damn and blast! She could be so infuriating. He sighed, trying to release the sudden increasing tension rising in his guts. “In any case, the Earl of Ruel will have no time or consideration to worry over you much.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Lady Ruel was so overset at your unexplained disappearance, along with that of the boy on the beach, that her lord disregarded their agreed upon quarantine and dared to take her into his arms. He then discovered her to be burning with fever. Shortly after, she collapsed into her bed, in delirium. His hands are quite full at the moment.”
A pained expression contorted her features. “Oh, dear God, if you had not abducted me, I would be able to help her.”
He hardened himself against the increasing feeling of tenderness. He made his voice firm and forbidding. “Your help shall not be needed. Lord Ruel has sent for the best physician from Mayfair and paid a fortune to have him come to Devon to attend her.”
“She will hate that. She distrusts doctors. She trusts me, if I were there, I could assure her that—”
He lifted a forestalling hand and spoke over her. “It’s Ruel’s problem. Not yours.”
She compressed her lips and stared at him for several moments. “Let me go to her.”
She had made her voice soft, pleading.
Again, he had to harden himself. “No, I am afraid I cannot do that.”
The hurt look on her face slashed into his heart. Her shoulders sank and she slumped against her chair’s back. “You will not. But you could.”
“No, I cannot. I do not know what the Earl of Barnet wants with you. And until I do, I dare not allow you out of my protective custody.”
Her eyes widened and she went a degree paler. “Protective custody? How ominous and official you make that sound.”
“It is the truth.”
“You certainly think much of your power.”
“I told you that I work for the Home Office.”
“Yes, you did.”
“Then know that I have the authority to act as I do. If you escape me, I have the full authority and power to recapture you and detain you as long as I see fit.”
“That’s not legal! I have committed no crime.”
“It is a power beyond the law. No one shall interfere. But if you were to leave my custody and find yourself taken by the official authorities, then I might have a thorny time gaining you back. I would regain you eventually but you might come to some harm in the meantime and I don’t want to risk that.”
“Jon told me not to worry. He said that he will deal with Maria and afterwards, she won’t dare to pursue this matter.”
“And if he doesn’t succeed in that? What then? What solution does the Earl of Ruel offer?”
Her expression hardened. “Jon says that no one would believe me if I did testify that he had lain with other men. He says no one in the House of Lords would ever take on the investigation of such a case.”
“And why is that, sweeting?”
“Because it would be too easy for an earl like himself to have my words dismissed as the ravings of a jealous former mistress. He says no self-respecting prosecutor would ever take such a case and that Maria will find herself out in the cold once more.”
“He’s either bluffing for your sake or deluding himself. Seeing as Ruel is an intelligent man, I think the former. Being a gentleman, he doesn’t want you to worry on his account. Yes, Maria Seymour doesn’t have the power to make an accusation like that stick. But the Earl of Barnet does. Ruel knows that.”
Stephen made a wry expres
sion. “Ruel thinks he can intimidate and storm his way out of this situation just as though he were still facing a battle in the Dragoons. One would have thought politics would have taught him better.”
“If he fails at that, I shall simply testify to whatever Maria wants and then Jon can have me declared an insane, jealous bitter woman.”
Stephen shook his head slightly. “No, the Earl of Ruel is never going to allow that kind of scandal and speculation to touch himself or his name or his house. You don’t understand the least thing about noblemen if you think he would.”
But this whole discussion did give Stephen a sudden insight into what Barnet might be intending. The realization left him reeling for a moment.
She had crossed her arms over her chest and leant back in her chair.
“I don’t think he’d allow you to be ruined like that, either. The gentleman in him would not be able to do it. He’s telling you what he thinks will ease your mind. But I don’t know what he intends to do. Perhaps he thinks he can point the finger of accusation for Saxby’s murder at Maria or even Barnet.”
Her brow wrinkled with a frown. “Barnet? How could he possibly factor in Saxby’s death? He wasn’t there.”
“Ruel may be thinking of pointing a finger of accusation towards Barnet for something far greater.” Yes, Ruel might well be considering that. And if he made any move to do that, Stephen would be forced have the Earl of Ruel detained in some fashion or else he would interfere with too much that Stephen had worked months to bring about. He would endanger Stephen’s mission and Stephen would allow nothing and no one to interfere with his mission.
But he didn’t want to disrupt Jonathon Lloyd’s life at such a delicate moment as was currently unfolding, so he was watching that matter closely.
Rebecca frowned. “Far greater—like what?”
Stephen compressed his lips. Damn, he had nearly told her more than he ought. The opiate was making him loose-lipped. Why was he even allowing the discussion to deepen? He fixed her with a stern gaze. “It doesn’t matter in any case. You will never be able to stand before a prosecutor and tell lies that could send your former lover to the gallows.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I know you. You’re simply not capable of that kind of subterfuge.”
Her shoulders sank a little more, if that were even possible. He knew his point had been made and he let the matter drop.
She continued to study him. “Jon says you do not work for the Home Office.”
Tension sparked along Stephen’s nerves, tensing his neck muscles. “The Earl of Ruel would not know about the circumstances of my employment.”
She made a sceptical moue. “I see. He says you were sent home from Vienna because you were uncultured.”
With his neck muscles going stiff as boards, Stephen twisted his mouth. God, he was damned weary of having to defend and explain himself. “Again, what would he know about the circumstances of my employment?”
“He says it is common knowledge.”
“It does not matter now and it has no bearing between the two of us.”
“So you will not explain?”
“There is no need.”
She looked stricken. “Of course you feel that way. You will not share anything of your past.”
His chest tightened at her obvious hurt. But he couldn’t allow himself to soften. If he told her the truth about Vienna, she would be horrified. Again, he fixed her with a stern stare. “Listen to me carefully, Rebecca.”
Her nostrils flared slightly. “Yes, I am listening.”
Her voice held a sharp edge. It could have cut a man’s throat as easily as any stray arrow at an archery contest. Unconsciously, he touched his collar, then passed it off as adjusting his cravat..
He made his own voice firm. “You must not attempt escape. I have my men guarding the door. You will not succeed in any attempt to flee again.”
Bright red colouring flared in her pallid cheeks, a most dramatic sight. “I see!”
“Don’t overexcite yourself. The situation is not nearly as dire as you are making it seem.”
“I have already had a taste of your men’s gentle ministrations.”
“I sent Gerard back to London. You needn’t worry. In any case, if you simply stay by my side, you will come to no harm.”
“So I am your prisoner?” Her voice rang with hurt.
“I didn’t want things to be this way, Rebecca. You gave me no choice.”
“You persist in saying that.”
“It is the simple truth.”
She turned her gaze back to the window.
Pressure increased in his guts, the rat trying to gnaw through the numbing effects of the opiate. He placed his hand over his stomach and rubbed slowly. “I want you to eat.”
“I am not hungry,” she said woodenly.
“Are you punishing me?”
She turned and gaped at him.
“Are you?” he insisted.
“You’re so arrogant.”
“How’s that?”
“You think everything revolves around you.”
He raised his brows. “Do I?”
“Yes. You make it impossible to trust you.”
“You didn’t trust me before this morning. You haven’t trusted me at all, not this whole time, regardless of my sincerity or actions.”
“How could anyone blame me? You share so little about yourself.”
“I am at liberty to share precious little of myself with anyone. I told you more than I should have already.” He took the bread and broke off a portion then handed it to her. “Eat some of this.”
She took the bread and held it limply.
“Try it,” he urged. “You’ll find it is exceptionally fresh.”
With a gentle rise and fall of her shoulders in a sigh, she broke a small piece off and put it into her mouth. Chewed slowly, her eyes glassing over again.
His heart twisted painfully. She was so overset about his having taken matters into his own hands. Frustration beat through his blood and he tightened his jaw against the urge to speak sharply, to vent his emotion.
She had forced him to it. He’d had no other choice. She must be in his protective custody at all times until he could arrange things so that he could be assured of her safety. The Earl of Barnet was a man who held extraordinary influence. Stephen doubted that Rebecca could even comprehend the scope of the man’s power.
I have to know his intent. I don’t even fully understand what he hopes to gain with Rebecca.
But after interrogating Barnet’s man and having had the previous night to reflect on things, Stephen had a fairly good idea.
That realization had turned his blood to ice crystals. And set his guts burning all night. He felt as though he had heaved up everything he’d eaten since Rebecca had run from him.
He studied her delicate profile, her girlish features. Candlelight softened the fine lines that the glaring sunlight in the carriage had thrown into stark relief.
Those little things only made her face dearer to him.
Love for her pressed on his chest like pain and he had to pause and breathe more slowly.
If he failed, if she came to harm, he would never be able to bear it.
He would die for this woman.
A sharp, stabbing pain jolted through his stomach.
Warning him.
Underneath the table, he fished in his pocket for the vial and took out an opiate pill. Then, with Rebecca’s attention fixed on the window, he slipped it into his mouth and washed it down with some of the claret. Then he took her wine glass and moved it closer to her. “At least have some of this. It will relax you and then you’ll see the whole matter between us more clearly.”
She didn’t turn back to him but she shook her head weakly.
Damn it all anyway.
He stood then strode over to his satchel and rummaged through the contents until he set his hand on an amber bottle. A roil of distaste twisted through his g
uts. He knew where this had come from. But still, he returned to her with the bottle. “You left this behind at the inn.”
She looked up, then stared at the bottle. But she still said nothing.
He took her wineglass and tossed the contents into the hearth. The wine hissed as it hit the flames. An oddly satisfying sound.
He opened the whisky and poured three fingers into the glass. Then he put it in front of her, setting it on the table with a heavy thud. “Drink it.”
She flickered a glance at the whisky and then to him.
“Drink it.”
She put the glass to her lips and drank. Slowly at first, then more quickly.
“He gave you that, didn’t he?”
Without looking up, she nodded.
“He knows that you prefer Scotch whisky to claret. But you wouldn’t tell me.”
She jerked her gaze to his. “You insist on regarding my association with him as a direct affront to you.”
“I admit to being resentful of how easily you allowed him into your life. You showed him yourself, all of yourself. Gave him all of your trust.”
Something sparked in the depths of her pale, pale blue eyes. “I didn’t just give him all of my trust at once. And he didn’t just demand it. He never rode roughshod over me the way you have. I knew exactly who he was and what he was. He didn’t keep secrets. He didn’t keep parts of himself hidden away. He earned my trust.”
“How did he earn your trust?”
“He courted me.”
“I see.”
But then the Earl of Ruel was a civilised, urbane gentleman.
What did Stephen know of being civilised? He wore a veneer of civility when he needed to but in truth he was a savage. A predator. A hired killer.
What had such an animal to offer any woman?
Rebecca was watching him closely. She narrowed her eyes. “And by courted me, I do not mean that Ruel slung me over his shoulder and hauled me to his tent and tossed me onto his bed, just in case you do not understand the meaning of the word.”
“So that’s what you want? You want courtship?”
“A little courtship is always nice.”
“I know seduction.”
“Yes, you do.” Her tone was accusing.
He felt a twinge of guilt. It rested uncomfortably upon him. He wasn’t used to being troubled by conscience. He had his duty and he enacted that duty. But he had—how had she put it? Ridden roughshod over her. Seduced her at time when she was weak, when another man likely would have offered her tenderness and comfort.
Perilous Risk Page 20
