It was empty, the fire in the grate died down to embers. The front door was closed. Had he left her here, then? Surely he would not. She could sense that he was still somewhere nearby.
Barefoot, she tiptoed over the rough wood planks of the floor and eased the door open. The rain still poured down outside, gray and cold, and Edward stood in the garden in the very midst of the storm. He was bare-chested, his arms outflung and his head thrown back as if to shout at the sky. Rivulets trailed over his naked skin.
He looked like a primitive god commanding the elements. But when he turned to look at her, that deep sadness still lingered in his eyes.
Elizabeth swallowed hard past a sudden knot of tears in her throat. Silently, she held out her hand to him.
For a moment, she feared he wouldn’t take it, that he would turn away and this fragile new bond between them would be broken.
Yet he came to her and took her hand in his, letting her draw him back into the cottage. Without a word, Elizabeth closed the door against the storm and retrieved the discarded cloak to wrap around him. She gently wiped the raindrops from his handsome face—and had the wildest, strongest urge to kiss them away and hold him against her until she could banish his mysterious, palpable pain.
Confused by the sudden rush of tender emotion toward Edward Hartley of all men, Elizabeth turned away from him and sat on a rickety stool by the wall. It was one of the few pieces of furniture in the small, bare room except for a table that held a large basket, and was lined by two benches. Shutters were drawn over the windows, but she could see the bright flashes of lightning between their uneven slats. The storm wasn’t abating yet.
Edward stirred the slumbering embers of the fire, building them up to warming red-orange flames again. Elizabeth studied him as he stood there by the hearth, his tall body silhouetted by the glow. He had dropped the cloak and his bare chest gleamed in the light. His hair was pushed back in damp waves from his face and the pearl in his ear glinted, the one remnant of the courtier she knew before.
He no longer looked like the gentleman of fashion, elegant and roguish, but like some tribal king of centuries past, so rough and primal. That glimpse of him, the Edward Hartley no one else ever saw, made her want him all over again.
But surely she did not look like herself, either. She was rumpled and tired, clad only in her chemise, her feet bare and her hair loose. She tucked her dusty feet beneath the stool and watched warily as he left the fire and came to kneel beside her.
He took her hand in his and pressed a soft kiss to her fingers. He turned it over and kissed the inside of her wrist, at the point where her pulse pounded beneath her skin, and in the vulnerable center of her palm.
“I’m sorry, Elizabeth,” he said, his voice low and rough. “I never meant for you to be caught in the middle of my old battles. I’ll send you back to London as soon as the storm ceases.”
To return to London, to her old life, as if naught had happened. Was that what she wanted? Yesterday, in all her fear and fury, of course it had been. But she felt as if during the course of the night something had shifted inside her, something deep and real. Surely nothing could be the same again.
She softly laid her free hand on his head, feeling his damp, silken hair against her skin. Her fingers slid down and cupped his cheek. A muscle flexed there, and his body stiffened, but he didn’t draw away from her.
“Tell me why I’m really here,” she said. “That is all I want now.”
He stared up at her, and his gray eyes were very dark. “Aye,” he said. “I do owe you that at least.” He sat down on the floor beside her, his back to the wall and one knee drawn up so he could brace his forearm there. The leather breeches he wore stretched taut over his muscled thigh.
“I won’t tell anyone,” Elizabeth said. “This place seems made to hold secrets, I think.”
Edward looked at her, his gaze unreadable. A tiny, humorless smile touched his lips. “Do you have secrets, Lady Elizabeth?”
She had one now—her growing feelings for him. “No one lives a blameless life.”
“My brother did. And that is why I’m here.”
“Your brother?” she said in surprise. She had never heard of another Hartley son.
“Jamie. He was younger than me, and a sweeter, kinder soul never lived,” Edward said, and in his words Elizabeth could hear the love he had for his sibling—and a terrible pain. “But he was also much too trusting. It led to his death.”
“I am so very sorry,” she said gently. She wanted to touch him, to wrap her arms around him, but it seemed as if he were encased in ice. So distant from her. He was lost in that old sadness and anger. “How did he die?”
“On a voyage to the New World, one of Raleigh’s schemes for an American colony to rival the Spanish. Jamie died of a fever aboard the ship, though we knew nothing of his death until months later.”
Elizabeth nodded sadly. She had heard tales of the terrible conditions aboard ships on such long, perilous voyages. Men such as Raleigh and Drake grew wealthy from the journeys, but many more died painful deaths of disease or drowning. “How did he end up on such a voyage? And what does his death have to do with what has happened here?”
“He went on the voyage because he lost most of his fortune to a scheme he was persuaded to take part in by a man he considered a friend. Jamie was ashamed to face our father with his mistake, and he thought he could make back his money on this journey. He still thought this man was his friend, you see, that the loss had been mere misfortune. The man was able to persuade Jamie to invest what he had left in this colony—and to go there himself to oversee the venture. Jamie left before my family knew what he was about, and we only discovered all this later, in reading his journal.”
“How appalling!” Elizabeth cried. She had heard of such criminal, coney-catching schemes before, of the fleecing of poor innocents, and it never failed to make her angry. “What happened to the villain? Did he hang for what he did?”
“No indeed, for like many successful villains, he covered his scheme well,” Edward answered. “In fact, he is quite wealthy from his ill-gotten gains, and betrothed to your friend Mistress Jane Courtwright.”
“Sir Thomas Sheldon,” Elizabeth gasped. Strangely, she was not surprised—she would put nothing beyond the man’s greed and ambition. It was a great blessing Jane was safe from him now. If only Jamie Hartley could have made such an escape…
Then the realization of what this story truly meant hit her like a lightning bolt. Oh no. It could not be. “You meant to kidnap Jane to avenge your family on Sheldon!”
Edward merely nodded. “That was the scheme. He would be shamed in front of the world at last, Mistress Courtwright would find a better husband from among my friends, and Jamie would at last be able to rest in peace. But…”
“But you met me instead,” Elizabeth said tightly. She wasn’t sure what to think or feel. Anger and confusion—and an odd relief—were all tangled up inside of her. Poor Jane would have been terrified to be snatched like that—until she found out the reason why, and that she was being saved from the clutches of Sheldon.
But what if Sheldon cheated once again and it was Edward who fell prey to some scheme?
She stared down at him, her vision suddenly hazy with tears. He smiled up at her, once again the unrepentant Court rake, as if he had not just told her his deepest secrets and changed her life forever. He reached for her bare foot and kissed her ankle, openmouthed, his lips hot and damp.
“I found you instead,” he said. “And it hasn’t been such a terrible mistake, after all, has it?”
As she watched in dizzy fascination, he slid his mouth over her ankle and traced the tip of his tongue over the sensitive arch of her foot. It made her shiver, all ticklish and tingling. He softly kissed the curve behind her ankle and lightly bit it.
Elizabeth’s eyes closed, and her head fell back in a rush of abandon as his mouth traced a fiery path of kisses up to her knee and the curve of her bare thigh. His ha
nd slid up her leg, pushing her chemise out of his way.
“Edward…” she whispered. How could he do this so fast, make her forget all else with his touch?
“Shh, Elizabeth,” he said against her skin. “Just let me touch you, I beg you.”
He begged her? Elizabeth bit her lip to keep from screaming out as he rose up on his knees before her and urged her legs apart. He eased her chemise higher around her hips, and his hands closed on her waist to pull her closer. To her shock, she felt his cool breath on the dark, damp triangle of curls between her thighs.
“Edward!” she cried as a thousand hot sensations shot through her. Her hips arched but his hold on her tightened, and he wouldn’t let her go.
And she didn’t want to leave him at all.
He leaned closer and kissed her there, his tongue darting deep inside her to touch her most sensitive, secret spot. With one hand he still held her by the waist, and with the other he gently spread her open so he could kiss her even deeper, taste her, rough and delicate at the same time.
Elizabeth twined her fingers in his hair to hold him to her. Damn him, but he was so good at that! He knew just where to press hard, to be soft, to linger. It was so terribly intimate, somehow even more than when their bodies were joined, and she felt so—so…
So open to him. To the vivid life he offered in his touch.
His mouth slid away from her to kiss the inside of her thigh. He rose up before her and pulled her close to kiss her, hot and desperate, just as she was for him. He tasted of rain and mint, and shockingly, of her. He lifted her high in his arms, not breaking their kiss, and carried her back to the bedchamber.
Everything was hot and blurry around her as he tumbled her to the mattress. He came down on top of her as she moved her legs higher to hold him in the curve of her body.
Her hands reached around him to feel the heat of his skin, to trace the hollow of his back and the hard strength of his shoulders. How very alive he felt, so real and true! And he made her feel alive, too, for the first time in her life.
His lips traced the curve of her lips, her cheekbone, her closed eyes, and she couldn’t wait any longer. Her fingers slid down to unfasten his breeches and test the hard length of his penis. He was erect and ready, and she opened her legs wider in silent invitation. With a deft twist of his hips he plunged inside and buried himself to the hilt.
She wrapped her legs around his waist in joyous welcome, moving with him, arching and striving until they found their rhythm together, faster and faster. Her nails dug into his back to hold him with her.
That burning pleasure built inside her and she grabbed for it with all her strength. It drove her ever higher and higher, until at last she could jump free and soar up into the sky—with him.
He let out a rough shout and his body grew taut above hers. A great tremor rippled through him and he fell down beside her.
Elizabeth couldn’t think or speak, or even move. She could only shiver with the force of her feelings and hold on to him as she sank back down to earth and into sleep.
Chapter Seven
Edward watched as Elizabeth sorted through the basket of provisions Robert had left them, placing loaves of bread, wheels of cheese and jugs full of wine on the table. She hummed a soft madrigal as she worked, smiling as she sampled a bit of fruit. She wore her chemise again, and a blanket over her shoulders like a shawl. Her hair, waving and dark, was tied back with a length of ribbon, and her cheeks glowed pink.
She looked ridiculously happy—and he had never seen anything so very beautiful in his life. She made him smile, too, a true smile of contentment for the first time in so very long.
For years, ever since Jamie died and Edward embarked on his empty life of carousing and Court advancement, he had felt dead inside. Cold and numb, existing only for the day he would take his revenge.
Now he felt warmth again, like summer sunshine after a long, cold winter, just from gazing at Elizabeth. How had this happened to him? He had never looked for such tenderness in his life, never wanted it, yet here it was before him.
What was he going to do about it? Would he—could he—reach out for this rare gift that had dropped into his hands? Or would he abandon it to continue on his long-set, destructive course?
Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder at him and her smile widened. It made him smile in return—he simply could not stop it, not when she looked at him like that.
“Such a luxurious captivity this is!” she said merrily. “Ham, cheese, wine, fine white bread. I doubt any prisoner in the Tower is half so well provisioned.”
Edward laughed. “I’m a careful gaoler. I would hate for any captive of mine to suffer in my charge.”
“So I’ve noticed.” Elizabeth popped a bit of bread into her mouth as she watched him thoughtfully. “I’m tempted to stay here in this prison forever.”
He was tempted, too. This tiny cottage had given him a small moment of peace in a life that felt made of war. But their time here grew short. He felt it slipping away, even as he used all his strength to hold on to it.
He held out his hand to her, beckoning her to come to him where he sat on the stool. When she slid her fingers into his, he tugged her down onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her.
Elizabeth laughed and curled up against him. “But I suppose we can’t stay here forever,” she said, as if she could sense his very thoughts.
“Nay, not for much longer. We will be missed.” Edward kissed her temple, inhaling deeply of her sweet perfume. He wanted to remember this, how she felt and smelled, how she looked as she lay against him.
“And you still have your task to complete,” she said.
“I do. I can’t let Sheldon get away with his foul deeds.”
“Of course not. But he should not take you as well as your brother.” She pleated a fold of his shirt between her fingers, a little frown creasing her brow as if she was thinking furiously. “But surely you can’t be the only person he has hurt. There must be many others, even people we know at Court.”
Edward went very still at her words. “What are you saying?”
“Perhaps using Jane is not the only way to expose him!” She sat up straight in his arms, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she looked at Edward. “We must find his other victims and unite with them to bring Sheldon down. If he would hurt my poor niece and your brother, then he would…” She suddenly paused.
“Would what?” Edward asked. At her words, wild and jumbled as they were, he felt an idea take hold in his own mind. A coalition to bring down Sheldon—it could work, if they could find the others. He knew they had to be out there; they were just ashamed, as Jamie had been, to be so taken in by the villain. Shame helped cruelty like his to thrive in the darkness.
They had to bring in the light.
“I just remembered,” Elizabeth said. “The papers!”
“Papers?”
“My niece managed to snatch some documents from Sheldon’s house at her terrible betrothal dinner. She can’t read very well, so she wasn’t sure what they were, but she wanted some kind of leverage against him.”
Well, well—so pretty little Jane Courtwright had something of her aunt in her, after all. “Where are they now?”
“Under the carriage seat. She gave them to me before she eloped with her sweetheart. Surely they would have something that could help us?”
“Possibly. And I have friends in Bankside who can help us, as well. I’m sure they would love to see Sheldon gone, since he takes away their own business.” Edward knew Robert Alden would be up for any scheme, and he was very well connected in the darker side of London.
Perhaps this scheme could work, after all.
Elizabeth kissed him and cried, “How exciting this is!”
“Oh, no,” Edward said. He tightened his arms around her, as if to hold her safe, keep her from touching Sheldon and his filth. “You must go back to Court, Elizabeth, and forget this happened.”
“Go back to my dull life? How
can I?” she protested. “Besides, Sheldon tried to hurt Jane. I want him gone, too.”
“I can’t see you hurt,” Edward said roughly, dragging her close. “I’ve hurt enough people in my life already.”
“You will protect me, I know you will. And I want to help.” She reached up to catch his face gently in her hands, her gaze earnest as she watched him. “I will be very careful. I do know how to do that. And I haven’t felt so alive in a long time!”
As he looked into her eyes, Edward knew that for the first time in his life he had found a spirit as willful as his own. Elizabeth would not back away—and neither would he. He would just have to stay very close to her to protect her, always.
And that was a prospect he liked only too much.
“On one condition,” he said.
Elizabeth frowned. “And what is that?”
“That you stay with me,” he answered. “I must insist.”
“Why?” she said suspiciously. “So that you can lock me up, keep me away from Sheldon?”
“I hadn’t thought about that,” he said teasingly. “But that would be one of the positive aspects of being your lover.…”
Elizabeth slapped him on the shoulder, and he laughed. He had never thought he could feel so lighthearted with a woman. But now, with Elizabeth, it was something he wanted most eagerly. He had found a spirit that matched his at last, a woman of fire, and together they could have a grand life of adventure. If he could persuade her to stay with him.
“I want to be with you because I have fallen in love with you,” he admitted. “And I never want to be without you. We could have a wonderful life together. One of excitement and adventure…”
Elizabeth seemed so surprised she nearly fell off his lap. He held on to her, not letting her go. “You—love me?” she whispered.
“Absurd, I know. I wasn’t even sure what love was before. But now I do, because of you and our precious time here.”
Tears appeared in her eyes, sparkling, and she laughed. “I—I love you, too, Edward. And I will stay with you. If you promise never to lock me up or lie to me again. I want this to be very different from my first marriage! I want this adventure with you.”
To Court, Capture and Conquer Page 4
