“Why … because I’m kidnapping you, of course.”
Stunned, Harmony felt as if a bucket of cold water had just been dumped over her head. She drew herself up a little straighter.
“You can’t … you can’t do that.”
Anthony shrugged, smiling. “I already have.”
Harmony’s natural sense of spirit and rebellion surfaced from wherever it had gone into hiding. She cast about her for a break in the trees, a place to run.
“I wouldn’t try that, if I were you. You’ll never find your way back in the dark. And I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you now that I’ve gone to so much trouble to find you again.”
Anthony smiled, a brilliant, slightly crooked smile, and, to her horror, Harmony felt a trembling weakness in her knees. She was suddenly reminded of the sensation of being watched that afternoon as she stood at her window.
“You followed us, didn’t you?” Harmony demanded.
“I found out where, and who, you were. Yes.”
“So you could kidnap me.” It was a statement, not a question. “But why?”
“Because you have a wealthy sister who will, no doubt, pay a great price to get you back.”
Harmony took a moment to savor the irony of her captor’s statement. Agatha, doubtless, would pay him, but not to get her back … rather to keep her hostage.
Puzzled both by his hostage’s silence and the faint, enigmatic smile curving her lovely lips, Anthony cocked a single brow. “Besides, how else to get to know the lady in blue … the girl with the sapphire eyes?”
Like a debutante at her first ball, Harmony felt a blush rise to her cheeks. But she was neither a debutante nor in attendance at a ball. She was in a dark forest, evidently in the middle of the night, with a man who had kidnapped her and was going to demand money from her sister for her return. She looked away self-consciously. Shouldn’t she be running? Screaming? Something?
“You can’t possibly get away with this,” Harmony said at length, in lieu of taking physical action.
“Well, we’ll soon find out, won’t we? Now, I think it’s time we got going.”
Anthony turned his back and tightened the chestnut mare’s girth. Over his shoulder, he asked, “Are you coming?”
Harmony hesitated. She told herself yet again she should turn and run, take the chance of getting lost in the woods, anything but meekly succumb to her captor. But it was as if she had been hypnotized.
Harmony had to force her thoughts away from the present, her bizarre circumstances, and think about her sister. What would Agatha do when she learned she’d been kidnapped? Would she worry? Would she feel guilt over the things she had said to Mrs. Rutledge? Or was her first reaction the most accurate? Might Agatha actually be glad she was gone?
The answer to every question nearly overwhelmed her, as if a flood of cold, dirty water had swept her from her feet and sucked her under to drown. Flailing mental arms to bring her back to the surface, Harmony envisioned Agatha standing in her dark, unwelcoming parlor, muttering to Mrs. Rutledge that the kidnapping was: “Good riddance to bad rubbish.”
Heartsick, she knew her imagination was undoubtedly, and sadly, not far off the mark. If she could not go back, however, at least she could go forward, even into the unknown. Sniffing back tears, Harmony realized the terrible irony of the situation. Going along with her kidnapping was preferable to trying to return to a sister who apparently despised her. Decision made, she sidled up next to her captor.
Without apparent effort, Anthony lifted her to the front of the saddle, then slipped his foot into the stirrup and swung up behind her. He put one strong arm around her waist and his heels to the mare’s sides. They walked from the clearing into and through the trees until they reached the forest’s edge where a moonlit meadow stretched before them. Anthony kicked the mare into a gallop.
Harmony was thrown against Anthony’s chest. She remembered how it felt when he had clasped his hand over her mouth and pulled her back against him. He was hard and broad and she found herself wondering what it would be like to run her hands across his chest. Would he have long, silken hair there, like that which fell over his shoulders? Or would his flesh be smooth, with only the definition of his muscles over which to run her fingers? Harmony closed her eyes.
And why, oh why, was she thinking such thoughts?
To keep them away from Agatha and reality, an inner voice whispered. But she felt guilty nonetheless and tried to turn her attention to other things.
The mare’s gait was mercifully smooth. Harmony tangled her fingers in the animal’s mane anyway, and hung on tightly. The ground beneath the thudding hooves fairly flew past. Harmony could smell the rich odor of the moist earth and green, green grass the horse’s shoes tore up in her passage. She tried to focus her attention on that, instead of the muscular man at her back.
Time as well as reality lost its meaning. The ride seemed to go on forever. Harmony had no idea how much time had passed when she finally saw a road in front of them and a light beyond it in the distance. Anthony pulled the lathered mare to a walk when they reached the road.
“Now, in case anyone comes along,” he murmured in her ear, “we’re man and wife, returning from an evening with friends. All right?”
Harmony was only able to nod. They continued on in silence until they reached the source of the light.
The inn was rustic and quaint, filled with the sounds of Saturday night merrymaking. Anthony slid to the ground and tied the mare to a rail in the courtyard. He turned and held out his arms to Harmony.
What else was she going to do? She edged around until she had both legs on the left side of the horse, let herself start to slide, and found herself once again in Anthony’s arms. They held her close against him, and she fancied she could almost feel the beating of his heart. Her own heart was behaving oddly and she tried to pull away. Anthony held her fast.
“Before we go in, Harmony,” he whispered in her ear, “I want you to forget any foolish notions you might have about trying to get away. These people here are my friends.”
He released her abruptly and Harmony stood, trembling slightly, as he withdrew something from the pack on the back of his saddle.
“Here, put this on. Keep the hood up. Please,” he added. He draped the dark cape over her shoulders and drew the hood up himself. “Once seen, no one would be able to forget those eyes and that hair.”
Harmony clutched the edges of the cloak closed over her breast and adjusted the hood. At a gesture from Anthony, she preceded him through the door he held open.
“Tony, me luv!”
An immense, jolly woman with apple cheeks crossed the room with surprising alacrity and enveloped Anthony in a bear hug.
“I was beginnin’ t’think ye wasn’t comin’ t’night after all.” She released him only to clasp him firmly by the shoulders. She nodded, with a huge smile, in Harmony’s direction. “But now I see what ye’ve been about, I s’pose I kin fergive ye.”
Harmony ducked her head, blushing furiously. She heard Anthony chuckle.
“So now that you know I’ve a beautiful lady to tend to, you won’t mind if we, uh … excuse ourselves … will you?”
The woman laughed heartily. “'Course not, luv. Y’go right on up. Yer room’s ready an’ waitin'. Me finest sheets, too.”
“Thanks, Maggie. You’re a good girl.” He swatted her generous backside, which brought forth another peal of raucous laughter. “I’ll bet you kept my dinner warm, too, didn’t you?”
“'Course I did! I knew ye’d be about some hungry business or other.” With a wink and a sly nod in Harmony’s direction, Maggie burst once more into laughter and headed off into the kitchen.
“Come, my dear.” As if he were about to guide her onto the dance floor, Anthony crooked an arm and held it out to Harmony. “I think it’s time we sought some privacy. In spite of all that wrapping, you’re attracting far too much attention.”
For the first time since they had entered, Harmony glanced aroun
d her. The low-beamed, smoky room was filled with men, almost all of them regarding her with prurient interest. One of them raised his mug in salute and winked lewdly. Harmony grabbed Anthony’s arm and let him lead her quickly from the room and up a steep, narrow stair.
The entire building was constructed of wood, and a pleasant woodsy fragrance filled Harmony’s nostrils. The corridor, she noted, was more well lit than the hallways of her sister’s home.
Anthony paused in front of one of the doors, inserted a key in the lock, and turned it. When it clicked, he pushed the door open in front of him.
“After you, my lady.”
Although she wasn’t cold, Harmony realized she was shivering. She stepped across the threshold.
The room was large and homey. Worn, but comfortable and sturdy furniture was strewn about, including a cozy sofa covered in bright chintz. A colorful hooked rug lay in front of a cheerfully crackling fire. Beyond a partially open door to her left, Harmony glimpsed a wide bed. Her legs were suddenly so weak she had to grab the back of a chair to steady herself.
Anthony was at her side in an instant. “Are you all right?”
Harmony found she was incapable of speech. She couldn’t take her eyes from the bed. Anthony followed her gaze. Then he looked at her quizzically.
“Is there something wrong with our bed?” he inquired casually.
“Our … our bed?” Harmony breathed.
Anthony nodded, smiling broadly. It was the last thing Harmony saw before her world went black.
Chapter Six
Harmony regained her senses swiftly. She opened her eyes to find she was, yet again, cradled in Anthony’s arms. Before she could protest, he laid her gently on the sofa. Eyes wide, she shrank away from him.
Anthony made a clicking sound with his tongue and planted his hands on his narrow hips. “Now, now, now,” he admonished. “Don’t go getting any foolish thoughts in your pretty little head. I’ve brought you here to extort money from your sister … not to rape you.”
Harmony could not even bring herself to look in his direction. She sat upright, tried to smooth away the wrinkles in her skirt in order to have something to do with her hands, and prayed for a hole to open in the floor so she could throw herself into it and vanish forever.
“I think I might have the cure for what ails you,” Anthony went on mildly. He pulled a stopper from a crystal decanter and poured a deep amber liquid into two petite crystal glasses sitting side by side on a silver tray.
The subtle symbolism was not lost on Harmony, but she could not keep herself from looking up through lowered lashes to watch what Anthony was doing. The obviously expensive tray, decanter, and glasses seemed somewhat incongruous in a place like the inn. But perhaps the proprietress kept such things around for her more special guests.
An instant later Harmony caught herself with an inward gasp. She was speculating on niceties when she’d been kidnapped for ransom by a stranger and was alone with him in his private chambers?
“Here you are.” Anthony handed one of the glasses to Harmony. “It’ll do you good. Help you to relax.” Following his own advice, Anthony sipped delicately from his glass and sprawled in the chair opposite the sofa. “There’s no reason why you shouldn’t be as comfortable as possible for as long as you’re here.”
Still reluctant to look Anthony in the eye, or think again about her situation, Harmony decided to stall by tasting the liquor. Feeling no guilt whatsoever—how could she when drinking an alcoholic beverage seemed like the least of her worries?—she brought the glass to her lips.
“Go on,” Anthony urged. “It’ll make you feel better about all this. Also, I promise that if you get a little tipsy, I won’t take advantage of you.”
Did he mock her? A spark of indignation ignited in Harmony’s breast. She threw her head back and tossed half the contents of the glass down her throat. An instant later Anthony was on his feet, pounding her on the back while she choked.
“What … what is this?” Harmony managed to ask when the coughing had subsided to a mere sputtering.
“A rather fine brandy, actually,” Anthony replied as he returned to his chair. “I apologize if you didn’t find it to your liking.”
“No, I … I do like it, as a matter of fact.” Harmony stared into the depths of her glass and felt a welcome warmth spread through her midsection, loosening the grip of her anxiety. The burning on her tongue turned into a pleasant aftertaste. She took another sip.
“That’s it. After you’ve had dinner and some wine, you’ll feel even better.”
Anthony rose and refilled their glasses, and Harmony found herself in an increased state of wonder and disbelief. She had been kidnapped, and was now being served an excellent brandy from the hand of her kidnapper. They were going to have dinner and a bottle of wine. It wasn’t real. Couldn’t be happening. She was definitely asleep.
Right. Like she had fallen asleep in the coach, and with her back against the tree.
But it seemed better to treat the situation as if it were a dream. Reality was simply too much to contemplate at the moment. If she forced herself to dwell on the details of her current circumstances, she might very well do what she should have done in the woods and run away screaming at the top of her lungs.
Then Anthony’s fingers brushed hers as he held the bottle over her glass and Harmony had a whole new problem to worry about.
The sensation at the origin of the touch was like the first taste of the brandy on her tongue. It burned. Then it went on a flaming journey through her body. She tried to take a deep breath without appearing obvious. It was impossible. Instead she took another sip of brandy.
No, she silently and adamantly protested. A stranger’s touch simply could not have such power over her body. And yet she could not take her eyes from his.
He moves as gracefully as a cat, Harmony thought to herself as she watched Anthony return to his chair. He hung both legs over a padded arm and raised his glass to her in salute.
“Here’s to you, lovely Harmony. To the time you’ll spend as my hostage, as well.”
Was she really a hostage? The thought came to her with sudden clarity despite the fuzziness beginning to cloud her thoughts. What would he do if she really wanted to leave? His behavior was so gentlemanly, she found it difficult to believe he might actually try to physically restrain her, or harm her in any way. He would probably, she mused, apologize for the inconvenience and offer to take her home.
Harmony felt a smile touch her lips. To her horror, she giggled, then raised her glass in response to his toast.
“Thank you,” she whispered, and drank.
The fire had burned low and the chill of the late summer’s evening had crept into the room. But Harmony felt warm. She stared into the dying flames and tried to concentrate on their hiss and crackle. It wasn’t easy.
It was becoming increasingly difficult to remember that she was, indeed, a captive. Anthony, no matter how charming, was a robber and a kidnapper. He was going to extort money from her sister. Moreover, she was, for the first time in her life, alone with a man. In a room at an inn. Drinking spirits. And, apparently, becoming affected by them.
The warmth deepened to a flush Harmony felt rise from her breast to her cheeks. She was in a situation too racy even for the dime novels she read. And she was enjoying every moment.
Again unable to look in Anthony’s direction, Harmony stared into the dregs of her glass. She tilted it to watch the last golden drop run from the bottom to the side. Anthony, alert to her every need, misinterpreted her action.
“You’ve run dry. A fine host I am,” he drawled as he unslung his legs from the arm of the chair. He stood and reached for the decanter.
“Oh, no, no,” Harmony protested. “I’ve had quite enough, thank you.”
“A few more drops,” Anthony urged. “To make one more toast.” “Well …”
Anthony poured a finger into each of their glasses. “With these last drops, I make my final toast.” He
touched his glass to Harmony’s. “To a very lucky encounter.”
Harmony watched Anthony over the rim of her glass and wondered if he meant that the luck was in meeting her, or in the prospect of obtaining some of her sister’s money. Perhaps it was only the brandy, but she wanted very badly for it to be her.
“Why did you really do this?” The words were out before she could stop them, her tongue loosened, no doubt, by how much she had had to drink. Her parents had warned her about such things.
Grief and guilt momentarily threatened to overwhelm her. Then she remembered her sister, and what Agatha would have to say about the situation. The thought was abruptly sobering.
“You mean, why did I kidnap you?” Anthony said, pulling Harmony from her reverie. He looked faintly surprised. “I told you. Because, for one night’s work, I’m going to make enough money to retire. For a few weeks, at least.”
Harmony made a valiant effort to keep the disappointment from showing on her face as her spirits plummeted to her feet. She felt a welcome spark of irritation as well.
“But why do you have to steal at all to make a living? Surely you could find some better, easier way. An honest way.”
“My dear, this is an easy way for a man like me to make money.” Anthony turned from Harmony to stand in front of the fire. “Or were you expecting me to tell you that I do this because I am a pitiful child of poverty, stealing only to feed my aged mother and starving brothers and sisters?” He uttered a short laugh. “Sorry, but I’m afraid I steal because I am simply too lazy to make a living any other way. And the … adventure … shall we say, appeals to me.”
“Yet you … you’re obviously an educated man!” Harmony protested, though not entirely sure why.
“Why, thank you, my dear.” Anthony bowed low from the waist. Long, dark, shining hair fell forward, as if in a caress, across his shoulders. He straightened and brushed it back nonchalantly. “But I see no reason why the educated, as well as the ignorant, shouldn’t be allowed to steal. Do you?”
It occurred to Harmony that it was ridiculous for her to agree. Yet she did.
Lady Blue Page 4
