He was loath to leave her alone, but he needed to regain some objectivity. He carried the old clothes to his own room across the hall, but ’twas a cold and empty place without Jenny.
Bringing Sinann’s face to mind, he tried to imagine her, instead of Jenny, waiting for him in that simple Tuath room, ready to execute his dangerous plan. But he could not.
Sinann was the sorceress most likely to help him deal with the current crisis when he returned to Coruain. Months ago, his father and the elders had urged him to take the beautiful sorceress as his mate. But he had not done so, partly because of Ana’s quietly voiced reservations, citing Sinann’s apparent disinterest in Druzai affairs.
Merrick had not objected to her propensity for playing riddle games and working complex puzzles with the other noble idlers of Coruain. Merrick had enjoyed the occasional crìoch-fàile puzzle and was quite good at them. But there were far more important occupations for the Druzai high chieftain and his mate.
Now he wondered how Sinann could be at the heart of their struggle for survival.
How he could ever call her céile mate.
Merrick dressed in the old clothes, then removed the thin band that held his hair at his nape. He left his room, reminding himself of the importance of his success with Lambton. He could not let all that he had come to feel for Jenny distract him from his purpose. She let him into her room after his quick knock.
The sight of her in the candlelight took his breath away. The bright, shiny blue cloth of the dress left her shoulders and the slopes of her breasts bare. Drawn in tight at her waist, it hugged her hips and legs. His cock sprang to life at the memory of all that the gown concealed, and all the pleasures they’d shared, arousing him to the point of pain.
“Are you all right?” she asked, trying ineffectually to cover her chest with her hands. “I know I’m not very—”
“No, lass. You are…stunning.”
She blushed pink and turned her back to him.
“You needn’t give false compliments, Matthew. I know my shortcomings.”
“I’m no’ ly—”
“The buttons run down the back of the bodice. I couldn’t reach all of them.”
The fine skin of her back was exposed in the narrow vee created by the opening in the gown. Merrick’s hands itched to touch her. He wanted to take her to the bed and make love to her there, to tell her that all would be well. Though he knew better, he could not help himself from pressing his lips to the slight hollow at the side of her neck.
Chapter 12
She sighed deeply when he slipped his hands under the edges of the gown and pushed the bodice down to her waist, pulling her back against his hard arousal, and he knew she was not as indifferent to him as she tried to let on. Her breasts were barely concealed under her thin white shift, and her nipples pebbled against it. Merrick struggled for breath, for the control he needed to keep himself from cupping their fullness, from laying her on the bed and showing her how irresistible she was.
Using all the restraint he could muster, he drew the sleeves back up her arms, sliding them over her shoulders.
“We canna,” he said, the truth of his words hitting him forcefully. He quickly fastened the buttons down her back and put some distance between them. “I need to help you find the locket and then…”
“You’ll return to your wife in Scotland.”
“Jenny…”
Abruptly, she gathered up her cloak and threw it over her shoulders. Keeping her head down, she spoke soberly. “We should go, don’t you think?”
No, he did not want to leave. But prudence won out, and they left the hotel by a side entrance to avoid being noticed in their shabby attire by the hotel staff. Merrick hired a coach to take them close to the Lanes, and from there, they walked. He wanted to take her hand, to turn ’round and get her back to the quiet warmth and safety of the hotel. But he could not delude himself. This was the only way to find Lambton.
Jenny did not cower as they walked, nor did she bear the same beaten-down appearance as the other women he’d seen in the city. But she looked entirely too vulnerable. Merrick had no doubt he could protect her from Lambton or any other ruffian who approached her.
But he vowed to use magic to keep her safe if it became necessary, and damn the consequences. He would deal with Eilinora or any other Odhar if they showed themselves.
“You’ll need to go in alone,” Merrick said. “We canna give the impression of being together.”
“Where will you be?”
“Close behind you, but I’ll act as though I doona know you.”
They walked past the dragheens near the church, and Merrick gave them an imperceptible shake of his head. He sensed that Jenny’s nerves were raw enough without having these stone creatures speaking to her. They continued on, heading into Feathers Court.
“Look.” He pointed to the row of empty buildings, not far from their destination. “’Tis possible we’ll become separated, and if we do, I want you to turn into this passageway. Go ’round to the back and hide inside the building.” He did not mention the rats.
“Where will you be, Matthew?”
“I’ll be following Frank Lambton.”
She shivered perceptibly and pulled her cloak tight. “I’ve never been inside a public house, Matthew. I’m not sure exactly what I should—”
He put his hands on her shoulders. “When you go to the bar, just ask for a mug of ale.” ’Twould be better for her to ask the men at the bar to buy for her, but he could not let her face that. He’d given her some coins, so he knew she had sufficient money, but not so much as to attract the wrong kind of attention. “Take the drink to a table in the center of the room. Doona go into any dark corners.”
She nodded. “Then what?”
“You wait. Take your shawl down from your head so your hair is uncovered.” And let the whoresons at the bar peruse her bare shoulders and soft fullness of her breasts. “Mo oirg,” he muttered under his breath, wishing for the thousandth time there was some other way to draw Lambton out.
Jenny gave a quick nod and turned to walk down to the tavern alone.
“Jenny,” he called quietly after her, “you may no’ see me, but I’ll be nearby. Doona be afraid in there.”
With a mug of ale in her hand, Jenny turned around and searched for a likely spot to perch. The only light in the place came from a few sputtering candles in a dusty, old iron chandelier that hung from the center of the ceiling. Her feet stuck to the floor, and as she walked to the table, she was tempted to ask for a cloth to wipe it down first. Hell would freeze over before she actually drank from the mug given her by the barkeep.
Silence had descended on the place when she’d come in, and the men at the bar did not resume their talk, even after Jenny took her seat. She avoided looking at them, preferring to glance around the room. But when she saw the reason Matthew had warned her to stay away from the dark corners, she blushed hotly. And nearly panicked.
What if one of those ruffians dragged her into a corner and forced her to her knees to—
The door creaked open and Matthew came in. Relief flooded through Jenny, even though he did not come near her. He stayed at the bar and started talking to the patrons, without mentioning Frank Lambton. The men did not answer him, but kept their attention on Jenny.
Their watery gazes made her skin crawl.
She remembered Matthew’s instructions, to take off her cloak and appear as though she were waiting for a lover. Lowering the hood of her cloak, she found she could not make herself remove it, not while wearing the revealing gown underneath. Instead, she opened the fastening at the neck and pulled the edges apart to some degree, but not off her shoulders.
One of the men at the bar left his place and approached her. “Eh, dolly lass—ye be lookin’ fer a man t’ take away yer worries?”
Jenny forced herself to keep her expression neutral, or even a bit aloof as she looked at the filthy drunkard with his foul breath and missing teeth. Sending a
silent prayer of pity for the man’s poor wife, she thanked heaven that she’d at least received an education at Bresland and would never have need to rely upon such a man for her livelihood.
“Not the likes of you,” she said, and turned away in disgust.
“Why, ye little—”
“Watch it, Kip,” said another man. “This toffee-nosed bitch be fresh meat. Ye know the Gaffer’ll want first crack at ’er.”
Kip growled and stepped away, leaving Jenny to wonder who the Gaffer was. The second man sat down across from her. His face was greasy, and he’d tied what was left of his thin hair into a queue at the back of his neck. He still had most of his teeth, but they were jagged and brown.
“Werst t’ from?” he asked. “We’ve nae seen ye afore.”
“My business, sir.”
“Oh, so high-and-mighty,” barked the man, lifting his chin and holding his nose in a parody of Jenny’s superior attitude. The rest of the men in the tavern laughed and slapped one another’s backs, adding their own mockery to his.
Jenny cast a quick glance toward Matthew and saw his dark expression. He was going to come to her defense if she didn’t do something, and then they might never find Frank Lambton. She stood abruptly. “Maybe not so high-and-mighty, but certainly too good for the likes of you!”
She hoped she’d managed to do enough to attract Harriet’s brother to the tavern, but was too nervous to sit still. “And who is the Gaffer, anyway?”
“I am,” came the answer from the entryway.
He was a large man with hair the color of sun-bleached straw, same as Harriet. And as he came into the tavern, all the other patrons moved aside to give him the choicest place at the center of the bar. But he did not move. He stood still and let his small, pale eyes wander over Jenny’s body.
A fine stubble of reddish-blond hair covered his chin and cheeks, and an angry red gash graced the bridge of his nose. His mouth was a thin, sneering line of implacability. Jenny had no doubt he was Harriet’s brother.
Now that she’d drawn him out, she wondered what Matthew was going to do with him. They hadn’t discussed what the plan would be, once they found him.
“I’ve heard of you,” Jenny said, though her knees were knocking together under her skirts. She did not want to look at Matthew, afraid he might do something rash, but needing him to do…something.
“Oh, aye? From who?”
“Harriet. Your sister. She told me to look you up if I ever came to town.” Her mouth went completely dry, and she had no idea how to continue the conversation or what she hoped to accomplish with it.
“So now ye’ve found me.” He spread his arms wide, as though to display his wares. Jenny saw that his hands were the size of hams, and she stepped back.
“I-I don’t suppose your sister is in town…”
He smacked his lips once. “Let’s nae talk about that mordy cow.”
Jenny backed up as he closed in on her, ignoring the loud guffaws at the gross slight of his sister.
“I got me a reet cushty room nearby wit’ a bed. Jus’ a short walk down the ginnel.”
Grabbing Jenny’s arm, he pulled her close and lowered his head as if he intended to kiss her.
But he jumped away suddenly, and not of his own volition. Matthew had grabbed him and yanked him away from her.
Lambton reacted immediately, whirling on Matthew and swinging one of his meaty fists at him. Matthew ducked, and Lambton lost his balance with the momentum of his blow, giving Matthew an opening to shove the man into the bar. Lambton landed on two of the men standing there, who took exception to the inadvertent assault and shoved him back.
“Jenny, get out of here!”
Lambton and the two men at the bar exchanged shoves and punches, but they quickly turned to the outsider who had instigated the trouble. Matthew moved to shield Jenny as the three men closed in on him. “Go, Jenny!”
“I’m not leaving you!” She held on to the back of his jumper as he avoided the first blow and mounted an attack of his own. Jenny did not have time to wonder if this was what he’d intended all along when he grabbed Lambton again and used him as a propellant against the other two attackers. The three men fell into one of the tables, which cracked and splintered, and crashed down in a thousand pieces. Jenny scooted away as the women in the corners shrieked and scattered, their male patrons adjusting their trews as they came out of the darkness to join in the fray.
Jenny shuddered at the sight of them and headed for cover, but one of the men at the bar grabbed her and spun her around. She felt a familiar prickling near her heart, and the silvery threads of her power appeared. She tried to control them, but they seemed to fly from her chest to the ceiling, pulling the ancient chandelier from its anchor, smashing it into a table beneath.
The chandelier and table collapsed to the floor, distracting her assailant just enough for her to get away from him and get clear of what was quickly becoming a full-fledged brawl. The prudent thing would be for her to get out of there, but with punches being thrown in every direction, she did not want to leave Matthew. She was reluctant to try unleashing the powerful threads again, afraid that whatever disaster they caused might hurt Matthew.
Every man in the tavern became engaged in the fight, and most of them seemed intent on destroying Matthew. Jenny moved away from the few who were brawling independently, and circled around to where Matthew was using his size and strength against Lambton and his cohorts. He punched and ducked blows, shoving and using his attackers’ own lumbering size against them. But Jenny did not think he could win without help against so many.
She picked up the remains of a broken chair and swung it at the back of one man’s legs. She hit him so hard, he went down with a crash. No one seemed to notice the one less attacker, so she did the same thing to another of Matthew’s assailants. This time, one of the other men took note of her actions and made a grab for her.
She screamed.
The ugly, beady-eyed Tuath managed to jerk Jenny’s cloak from her shoulders as she scrambled away, leaving her much too exposed in the damned dress Merrick had bought her. Though she managed to get away into the shadows, it did not ease his worry about her.
She might be indomitable, but she was not invulnerable. Any one of these Tuath brutes could break her in two, and now a few small fires had sprung up where the chandelier’s candles had scattered. “Jenny,” he muttered, furious with her. He should have known she wouldn’t leave when he told her to go. Now he had to get both of them out of the building that was rapidly filling with smoke.
He moved fast, using nonmagical talents common to all Druzai warriors, to hammer at Lambton and the others. He was anxious to finish them off and get out of the tavern, and away to the hidden place where he could watch for Lambton to leave the Old Scratch. Fielding punches as well as dirty attacks, he caught sight of Jenny as she ran behind the bar and grabbed two bottles of whiskey. “No! Mo oirg, bhur eiridinn cròlot aimsith!” he shouted, more terrified than he’d ever been in his life. “Get out, Jenny!”
But she returned to the fray and crashed a bottle over the head of one man, then did the same to another. In spite of his frustration with her, Matthew had to suppress a grin at her audacity.
He caught her eye and shouted over the clamor. “Go ’round to the door, lass! Do it!”
“Only with you!” she shouted back.
Merrick found himself muttering yet another low curse and shot her a look that would brook no defiance. She turned and wavered only a second, then made her way across the floor that was now wet with whiskey and covered with splinters of glass and wood. She made it to the door just as Merrick leveled the man closest to him.
Lambton came at him again, but Merrick did not want to disable him completely. He wanted the man capable of walking out of the tavern and leading him to his sister. If only the scoundrel hadn’t made a grab for Jenny so soon, they might have learned more about the sister’s location without all this useless violence.
H
e had to admit that Jenny’s efforts during the brawl had helped to thin out the crowd against him, though a few still refused to give up. ’Twas utter chaos inside, with the fire growing and the smoke thickening.
Merrick fought his way to a corner of the tavern and put his back against the wall. Then he sidled toward the door, following in Jenny’s tracks. He considered conjuring a quick blinding spell to get away without being seen, but knew ’twould be too risky. Instead, he yanked a heavily framed painting from the wall and smashed it over the heads of Lambton and two others. While they struggled to extricate themselves from the splintering wood and torn canvas, Merrick reached Jenny, grabbed her arm, and pushed her out the door.
“Come on!”
She ran alongside him, turning to look back toward the tavern.
“No time to gape, lass!” Merrick pulled her into the alleyway where he’d told her to hide if things became dodgy inside the tavern. Turning sideways, they edged their way through the narrow passageway as the men came pouring out of the tavern after them.
“In here!” Merrick whispered when they reached the end. They turned ’round a stone corner and pushed through the rickety door of a vacant building. “Wait here for me while I follow him.”
Some small thing skittered away in the dark, and Jenny grabbed his arm. “No! Don’t leave me here alone!” She’d lost her cloak and was shivering with cold and possibly fear. Merrick was torn. He knew he could not just abandon her and leave her there.
“Come on, then—out here!” Using another route altogether, they left the building. Merrick grabbed her arm, leading her quickly through the maze of buildings and back alleyways as he pulled off his woolen jumper.
He pressed it into her hands. “Put this on, but keep moving,” he whispered urgently. “And if we become separated, make your way back to the dra—to the two statues we passed near the old church.”
Temptation of the Warrior Page 21
