A Seduction at Christmas

by Cathy Maxwell

  Fiona was impressed. She wasn’t a large woman but she wasn’t petite either. Holburn hadn’t even blinked.

  “Are you going to lower me down the rest of the way?” she asked, picking up her clothing bundle. If he did, she could be off and running from him before his feet could touch the ground.

  But the duke was on to her. “I know what is stewing in that crafty mind of yours. We stay together, Fee. You and I. They will hurt you to find me or to cover their own tracks. Don’t worry. I’ll see to your protection.”

  You and I. When he’d talked about “protection” before, she’d rebelled. She knew Holburn’s reputation and was wary.

  But she heard another tone in the duke’s voice—kindness. It had been a long time since she’d heard kindness.

  It went right through the walls she’d erected around her heart. It made her want to trust him, even though she knew she should know better.

  “I’ll see you on the ground,” was all he said before taking hold of the roof’s ledge and swinging himself down to the ground, not bothering with Tad’s ladder of crates and barrels. He made it look easy.

  “Do I have to go down that way?” she asked.

  He laughed. “I’d like to see you try.”

  She was tempted to give it a go for no other reason than to prove her mettle, but one glance over the edge dissuaded her. She tossed her bundle to him and then started to drop to the roof to climb down to the ground. She hated thinking what the filth on the roof would do to her dress.

  Holburn stopped her. “Don’t climb down those crates. Just jump. You did it once, Fee, and I caught you. Trust me again.”

  This time the distance was farther. Holburn didn’t know what he asked. You and I. She closed her eyes and jumped.

  Strong arms caught her. Her body was pressed against his hard chest as he absorbed the momentum of her jump. She threw her arms around his neck to keep her balance and because jumping had been more scary than she had imagined. For a long moment, he held her close before slowly lowering her to the ground. Her senses were full of him. The man was rock-solid hard. She believed there was nothing he couldn’t do. It was that simple. He could protect her.

  “We make better bedfellows than enemies, don’t we, Fee?” he said, his arm around her waist kept her against him. The warmth in his voice flowed through her.

  She started to nod her head—and then came to her senses. “I’m not that sort of woman, Your Grace. My honor is all I have left, that and the piece of plaid I’ve wrapped my clothes in. Stop this nonsense talk about us being lovers. It won’t happen.”

  All humor faded from his eyes. “Don’t pass judgment on me, Fee. Don’t assume my motives. And don’t think I don’t understand the meaning of honor. I’ve spent my life defending my honor.”

  He let her go then, and she almost lost her balance. He steadied her with a hand on her arm, the gesture chivalrous. Other men might have walked off then. He didn’t. He picked up her bundle of clothing.

  And Fiona felt guilty. She didn’t think she’d jumped to conclusions…but the man had just helped her escape a dangerous situation, and she had no choice but to rely on him until she was completely safe.

  “I just think it best we be honest with each other.” She avoided his gaze, preferring instead to brush at dirt on her skirt.

  “Honest?” He snorted his opinion and took her arm, forcing her to meet his eye. “Honest, Fee, is saying that I’ll not ask for more than what you are willing to give. But I’m growing bloody irritated with you pretending you aren’t as attracted to me as I am to you. I’m no bloody lecher.”

  “I never said you were,” she defended herself.

  “You don’t have to. It’s there in the stiffness of your back any time I’m close to you and the prim set of your mouth. But the truth is you are more afraid of yourself than you are me.”

  That was honest. And true.

  “You don’t understand,” she whispered. “It’s not what you think.” A headache was forming behind her eyes. She was tired, worn thin, but not just from the events of last night. She’d been raped. She’d been beaten. She needed peace. She needed to feel whole again.

  And this man who had occupied so much of her imagination, this man for whom she had stayed in London, was larger, stronger, and more vital than she’d ever expected…and she had nothing to offer in return.

  He released his frustration with a heavy sigh. He leaned toward her, dropping his voice even though they were alone in the narrow alley, Tad waiting patiently at their feet. “I’m not one to explain myself. I don’t understand the twists and turns of fate. I don’t know you, not in the way I will know you.”

  His prediction brought her gaze up to his.

  “So let it be,” he told her. “Stop thinking beyond the moment. We’re here. This is now. That’s all that is important.”

  She could have argued with him. A woman had to think ahead if she valued herself. Fiona had learned hard lessons because she’d trusted.

  However, when he took her hand, she silently followed.

  And that was enough.

  Holburn paused at the alley’s entrance onto the street. The narrow, winding lane was alive with human traffic. He used his height to scan the passing crowd.

  “Do you see the Irishmen?” Fiona asked.

  He shrugged. “I assume we saw them last night but I don’t remember what they look like. I don’t see anyone who appears to be searching for us. There is one burly man leaning against the wall sleeping.”

  Fiona moved so that she could see and immediately recognized the sleeper as one of their pursuers. “He’s one of them. Do you think he is really asleep?”

  “I have no doubt of it,” Holburn answered. “Look at the slump to his shoulders. It must be hard chasing and murdering people. His mate must be upstairs. Come. This way.”

  He took her arm and led her in the opposite direction, Tad at their heels. They came out on the street where Fiona had met Hester’s coach the night before. It was very busy. Horses, wagons, and coaches clogged the streets while women of every class saw to their shopping, servants bustled along on errands and men on business. A gang of sailors strolled along, obviously fresh from their ship and taking stock of their surroundings.

  All was as it should be. While she and the duke had been running for their lives, the rest of the world had gone on.

  The duke raised his hand to signal at a passing hack. The driver’s cab was empty but he drove on by.

  Holburn shook his head. “That was odd.”

  “We don’t appear as if we can afford his fare,” Fiona explained.

  “Do you think?” the duke asked as he glanced down at his person as if just now realizing what he was wearing. His shirt was open and his jacket was still damp from where Fiona had tried to clean it. He ran a self-conscious hand over the growth of beard. “You’re right,” he conceded.

  “I don’t appear much better,” she consoled him.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said without hesitation.

  The compliment startled her. She knew she wasn’t, especially right now. It had been a long, rough night. Her eyes felt gritty and the braid in her hair was coming loose.

  He saw another hired vehicle and waved to it. This one didn’t stop either.

  “It’s hard, isn’t it?” Fiona couldn’t help noting.

  “What is hard?” he asked.

  “Being like everyone else.”

  He took her teasing as a challenge. “I’m not like everyone else, and well you should remember that, Fee.”

  “I’m not certain I could forget,” she murmured.

  The flash of his grin was like the sun coming out from behind the clouds and just as stunning. He’d taken her gentle jab as a compliment. Fiona gave her head a little shake. She could arm herself against his good looks, his strength, his power…but the smile could be her undoing.

  “Let me prove it to you,” he said eagerly, taking her arm.

  Fiona gave him a suspicious frown
. “You are enjoying this adventure a bit too much.”

  “I am,” he admitted readily, his eyes searching for another hack to hire. “It’s a challenge. It’s been a long time since I’ve been challenged.”

  A new concern grabbed Fiona. She came to a halt. He turned in question.

  “My friend Grace McEachin,” she said. “She’s supposed to return to my rooms tonight. I almost forgot. I must warn her.”

  “Where is she?” he asked.

  “Covent Garden.”

  “She’s in the theater?”

  Fiona nodded.

  “It won’t be hard to send word to her,” he said. “Relax, Fee. I’ll handle everything.” His head lifted. “There’s a hack over there,” he said and guided her across the street to where a horse and driver waited as they often did since that corner was close to a busy mercantile exchange.

  They approached the hack from the rear. Holburn opened the door and all but lifted Fiona into the cab before giving the driver an address.

  The driver’s manner was immediately one of pleasing subservience, until he caught sight of the duke’s ragged appearance—and even then, he was uncertain whether to drive them or not.

  It was when Holburn said to the dog, “Tad, climb in,” that the driver decided to protest.

  “Wait there,” the driver protested. “You can’t think to put that animal in my vehicle.”

  Holburn left the door and went to the driver’s box. Fiona could hear them murmuring. The duke returned and said, “Come, Tad.”

  In truth, Fiona didn’t see how there would be room for the three of them. The cab was very narrow and not wide at all. It would be crowded for her and Holburn.

  But the duke pointed Tad to the floor and the dog obeyed—which was the most amazing thing of all. Tad hadn’t been completely obedient to her of late and he never listened to strangers. It was as if the dog was pleased that Holburn had come into his life.

  The wolfhound took up all the floor space. Fiona and the duke had to position their feet around him. Holburn knocked on the roof.

  The coach started forward and then stopped with a jerk. Apparently someone had stepped into the hack’s path. The driver yelled. Fiona’s heart leapt to her throat, her first thought being the Irishmen had caught them escaping. She reached for the door, but Holburn placed his hand over hers.

  “Courage,” he said quietly.

  A beat later, the hack started forward again without further mishap.

  “Why don’t you rest?” he suggested. “Lay your head on my chest and I’ll keep watch.”

  “I couldn’t sleep,” she assured him. Every muscle in her back was tight and her nerves were stretched thin. “Once I know Grace is safe—”

  “She will be,” he said, cutting off any other protests. Fiona couldn’t stifle a yawn. “Close your eyes for a moment,” he suggested.

  He was right. She should relax while she had a chance. It had been a long night.

  It had been a long year.

  She closed her eyes, leaning back as comfortably as she could against the hard leather seat. Tad rested his head on her foot and there was only so much room for her to maneuver away from the duke’s body heat. She folded her hands on top of her precious bundle of clothing in her lap. All she owned, everything that was either necessary or the most precious to her, such as the silver brush her parents had given her the last Christmas the family was together, was in this bundle. As long as it was with her, she was safe.

  “I can stay with my friend Grace,” she said softly.

  “We’ll worry about that later,” the duke answered.

  Fiona hadn’t even known she’d spoken aloud. She was that tired.

  His arm came around her shoulders, pulling her head toward him. “Sleep, Fee. You don’t need to worry. I’m here.”

  I’m here. You and I.

  This man both comforted and terrified her. He could swallow her whole, absorb her being into his, hurt her in ways she only had an inkling were possible…and yet she fell into the deepest sleep of her life with her head against his shoulder.

  Cold, damp air brought Fiona to her senses. She sat up with a start, completely disoriented and yearning for more sleep.

  The duke’s laughing voice said, “Come along, Lazy Ann. We’re here.”

  Holburn.

  The hack’s door was open and she was alone on the seat. Even Tad was gone.

  The duke leaned into the coach, offering his hand. “Come along. The driver has been paid his fare and he wants to be done with the two of us.”

  Fiona climbed down out of the hack. Her legs ached in protest at the movement. “Where’s Tad?” she grumbled.

  “He’s run over to investigate the park across the street,” Holburn answered before speaking to a footman dressed in deep blue livery trimmed in silver braid.

  Still not completely awake, Fiona stepped up onto the marble curb. The road here was nicely paved with cobbles that fit tightly together. She glanced across the road at a charming little park where Tad sniffed at the wrought-iron fence. Fiona realized it had been a long time since he’d seen a tree or blade of grass.

  The hack drove away. As if realizing she couldn’t think for herself, which was true, Holburn took her by the shoulders and gently turned her to face the house.

  Fiona woke up.

  Before her was a row of four-storied houses that were a study in opulence married to exquisite taste. Their windows sparkled like jewels in the winter sun. Their façades were of decorative brick and marble behind elaborate wrought-iron fencing. It was all so clean and new she almost felt as if she wasn’t in London anymore.

  These were the neighborhoods of wealth and privilege whose ranks her mother had someday hoped she would join. Her father hadn’t cared. He’d had his social concerns to keep him occupied but her mother had been practical. She’d envisioned this life for Fiona, had groomed her for it.

  Tad came bounding up to her, overjoyed to have found trees and dirt and certainly a few squirrels. He nudged her hand as if encouraging her to come with him, to see what he had discovered.

  Holburn laughed and rubbed the dog’s head. “You are easy to please,” he told the dog and then turned to her. “Are you ready to go inside?”

  “Inside where?” she asked, afraid of the answer. He couldn’t possibly mean to take her, in these clothes, these well-worn shoes, and with her hair looking like it had been through a wind storm, inside one of these houses.

  “In this one,” he said, and Fiona was robbed of speech.

  The house he indicated was the most magnificent in the square, a veritable lynchpin to all the others. The façade and columns were snowy white alabaster. The front door was open and a butler waited along with what seemed to be a column of servants all dressed in the same blue and silver braided livery.

  “It’s incredible,” Fiona said when she could find her voice.

  “Thank you,” Holburn answered. “My father almost wrecked the family fortune building it. Let me show you the inside. Are you hungry? I’m famished. I hope Cook has—”

  He broke off as she hung back. “What is the matter?”

  “I can’t go in there,” she confessed.

  “Of course, you can,” he said, pulling her arm to drag her along. “I do it every day.”

  “But the way I’m dressed—? Where’s my bundle?” she asked, slightly panicked to have lost track of it.

  “I gave it to a footman. Now, come along, Fee, and stop dragging your feet. It’s my house. I can take whomever I wish into it.” When she didn’t comply immediately, he tempted her with, “How about breakfast? Or a hot bath? A warm, snuggly bed? You won’t believe the delights we have in store inside.”

  Oh, she did believe.

  Tad didn’t share her reservations. He trotted right into the house, ignoring the group of servants who watched him pass.

  Disloyal dog.

  “Come along,” Holburn said, and she had no choice but to follow.

  “Good morning,
Your Grace,” the butler said as he and the footmen bowed. He was a lean man with close-cropped hair, the only male servant not wearing a wig.

  “Morning, Docket,” Holburn answered. “This is my guest, Miss Fee—” He caught himself. He pulled her back out onto the step. “What is your last name?” he whispered, keeping his back to the butler.

  Fiona feared she would be ill with apprehension. She did not belong here, but at the same time, would not deny her family name. “Lachlan.”

  Holburn turned to the butler. “This is Miss Fiona Lachlan. She is an important guest. Tell Mrs. James to prepare a room on the family floor for her.”

  “It is already being done, Your Grace.”

  The duke smiled his pleasure and led Fiona into a huge black and white marble-tiled foyer where trunks and hat boxes were piled high in the middle of the room. He stopped and looked to Docket.

  “What’s all this?” the duke asked. “Mother isn’t preparing for the country already, is she?”

  “Yes, Your Grace,” the butler answered.

  “She can’t do this,” the duke said. “She’s blocking the door with her possessions.” He explained to Fiona, “Mother is making preparations for the country and the family’s Christmas festivities. Every year the family meets there. My mother is not only terrible at organizing her life, but she has to take everything she owns. This pile will grow over the coming days.”

  Fiona didn’t see how it could. There was so much stacked up here it was hard to imagine a person owning more. However, all the servants nodded agreement with the duke.

  “She can’t do this,” Holburn decided. “I’ll talk to her. Has she come down to breakfast yet?”

  “No, Your Grace,” Docket answered.

  “Well it is time for us to seek ours. Come along, Fee,” he said with good humor. “Let’s see what Cook has for us.”

  He didn’t wait for her response but guided her along in the direction of his wants, Tad walking along with them. Fiona could feel the looks exchanged amongst the servants. She knew what they were thinking. Holburn must also know, except he didn’t care.

  She shouldn’t either. She was Lachlan, and she’d done nothing for which to be ashamed. Although wrapping herself in pride didn’t release the knot of apprehension.