“You deserve better than me, Louisa. Even you must be able to see that.”
“All I can see, Lewis Knight, is that you are a stubborn fool.” Her chest rose and fell with one long breath. “I shall eat in my room tonight. Goodnight.”
Before he responded, she scooped up her abandoned bonnet and shoved open the door, slamming it with such force that the wall sconce vibrated, making the candle in the hallway flicker.
Knight exhaled and ran a hand over his face. She might not realize it, but he was right. The more distance between them, the better. Louisa needed someone stable in her life, someone with everything to give. Not some battled-scarred smuggler.
Chapter Twelve
Louisa clenched her eyes tightly shut and tried counting her breaths. One, two, three, four...She huffed. Sleep eluded her while the memory of that kiss surged through her mind over and over. She’d never experienced a kiss like it. How could he push her away after that?
She tossed onto her side and rearranged the tangled bedding around her legs. Her stomach grumbled. Although she had brought dinner up just as she had vowed, she’d been unable to eat much of it and regretted that now. Her stomach had been a jumble of regret and need. If Knight would only talk to her, explain why he was so reticent. But the blasted man was so set on keeping his strong jaw shut she doubted she would ever understand what was going through his mind. She understood that they’d agreed to remain friends but he had kissed her.
And she’d seen it—the need in his gaze. It was easily as strong as hers, and he was a fool to deny it. She did not much like being a fool, so she was done fighting it. After all, there were few reasons why they could not give in, and after the day she’d endured, she could think of nothing she wanted more than to be wrapped in his arms.
But, of course, he was insisting on playing the martyr. She thumped a fist against the pillow. Stupid, stupid man.
She stilled and frowned. Something scraped against the door to her room. Drawing her next breath in slowly and silently, she listened carefully. Another scraping sound. Her heart gave a little judder, making her careful breaths harder to draw in. It could not be Knight, she was certain of that. The stubborn man would not give in now.
The door flew open suddenly, crashing against the wall and sending splinters flying across the room. The haze of candlelight illuminated the imposing outlines of several men. Louisa screamed and scrabbled to stand as sheets tangled around bare legs. Three men barged into her room, one coming straight for her. He clamped a hand across her mouth and nose before she could utter a word, making it hard for her to breathe. She lashed out, scratched and kicked at anything within reach. Her toe connected with the bedstead and sent a wave of pain through her. Her cry was muffled against the huge, sweaty palm.
A flash of light catching on a blade sent her heart racing anew. Oh God, they intended to kill her. She clawed at her captor’s arms and released his pinching hold over her mouth long enough to draw air. The scent of old sweat fouled her next breath, but the brief reprieve allowed her to scream again and bite down on his hand.
“Bitch.”
She hardly saw the movement but she felt it—a blinding light surged across her face when the back of a palm struck her cheek. Knuckles met her cheekbones and the strength in her legs left her. She sagged onto the bed.
Through clouded vision, she spotted the knife once more, looming over her. Louisa slid off the bed, her limbs heavy and her mind thick and muddled. All she knew was that if she did not do something, these men would kill her. She crawled a mere few inches when a rough hand latched around her ankle and forced her to a stop. Groping for something—anything—to protect herself, her fingers met air.
Another man charged into the room, broad shoulders highlighted by the sputtering candlelight of the hallway. The fingers around her ankle released, and she kicked out, even though there was no longer anyone there. When she realized she had her freedom, she huddled into the corner of the room, arms around her knees, away from the fray.
The steady pound in her head continued, but her vision gradually cleared. “Knight!” Relief washed through her.
Knight knocked the knife from one of the men’s hands with ease and laid out another with a fist. He grabbed the third and paused. “Bastard,” he spat and thrust a punch into his gut. The man retched and collapsed, lying fetal on his side while Knight loomed over him for a moment, drawing in ragged breaths.
Knight rushed over and gripped her arms, aiding her to her feet. “Are you hurt?” He ran hands over her face and her body, and she felt the tremble in them. Or perhaps that was her shaking?
“Tell me you are not hurt.”
Louisa shook her head, unable to find any words. Her cheek throbbed and her elbows hurt from when she had rolled off the bed. She had no doubt she would be left with a few bruises from the ordeal. But nothing that would not heal.
She peered around Knight at the three men. Two were knocked senseless while the third remained curled on the floor, coughing and fighting to draw breath. She narrowed her gaze at him.
“Bastard!” Gathering the loose strings at the neck of her nightgown in one hand, she strode over and thrust a finger at him. “You swore on your mother’s grave you could tell us nothing more.”
Eli Jones groaned and gave a weak smile. “Don’t have no mother. Orphan, you see.” He sniggered then coughed.
Knight came up behind her. “I should kill him.”
“Perhaps you should,” Louisa agreed.
Knight raised a brow.
“No, no!” Eli lifted his hands briefly then moaned, wrapping them back around his stomach.
Louisa crouched next to him. “Perhaps I will prevent him from killing you, if you tell me why you tried to hurt me.”
“I told Hugh this was a bloody fool’s errand, but he don’t listen to no one.” Eli eased himself up against the wall, an arm banded around his waist. “Hugh was going to send coin if we helped him.”
“Help him how?” Louisa pressed.
“Ensure that people still thought he was Ralph.” Eli sent Knight a wrathful look. “Of course, he didn’t tell us there would be questions asked by someone like you.” Eli snorted and looked to Louisa. “He said we’d only have you to deal with and you’d hand over the inn with ease. We couldn’t have you going back to Cornwall and telling the truth.”
Louisa shared a look with Knight. “It seems you underestimated me, Mr. Jones.”
“I don’t like killing women,” Eli said weakly.
“Whereas I quite enjoy killing men who try to harm women.” Knight’s stare was cold and sent a shiver even through her. She’d seen the vicious side of Knight before and it was easy to forget that underneath that there was a man with feelings and insecurities. However, she was certain now that there was such a man there.
Louisa rose. “What should we do with them?”
“I shall take care of it.” He put an arm around her shoulders and eased her toward the door. “Wait in my room.” He handed her the key. “Lock the door and do not open it unless you hear my voice.”
She nodded and let him lead her to his room. With one candle lit and the bed untouched, she had to utter up a thank-you that Knight had not been sleeping. “I am glad you heard me.”
“I would have heard you even if I was asleep.” He shrugged as she peered at him. “A trick I learned in the Army. To go from sleeping to awake at the slightest sound in an instant.” He stepped out of the room. “Lock the door, I will not take long.”
Louisa dutifully locked the door behind him and sank onto the bed. Arms wrapped around herself, she focused on taking steady breaths and not listening to what was happening in the hallway or a few rooms down. Doors opened and shut and there were voices but she could not make out what was occurring.
She waited in that position until her limbs were stiff. Her heart had slowed but her cheek continued to throb painfully. To think those men had been willing to kill her over the inn. It meant Hugh was more dangerous than sim
ply being a swindler. They would have to move with caution when they revealed who he was.
No. When she revealed who he was. Knight had an estate and a title to claim.
A tap on the door made her heart skip back into her throat.
“Louisa.”
She exhaled and released her arms around from her waist. Barefoot, she padded across the room and unlocked the door. Knight slipped in and locked the door behind him.
“What happened?” she asked, swallowing the knot that seemed to have wedged itself permanently in her throat.
“The innkeeper aided me in clearing them out and sending someone to fetch the local constable.”
She nodded. The thought of them locked up made the tightness in her chest ease.
“The innkeeper shall ensure they see justice. He can press charges for them entering his property.” He glanced her over. “You are cold.”
Until he hauled his jacket off the back of a chair and slung it across her shoulders, she had little idea of what he meant. When the warmth surrounded her, tinged with the scent of soap and musk, she finally noted she’d been shivering. She huddled into the heavy wool gratefully and forced a smile.
“I suppose we had—”
A hand to her cheek trapped the words in her throat. He skimmed a finger down her face, his expression grim.
“If I had been with you, this never would have happened.”
He stepped away before she responded and dipped a cloth in the washbowl atop a slim washstand. Knight wrung out the water and urged her to sit on the bed. With the sort of tenderness she would expect from someone half Knight’s size, he dabbed her cheek then pressed the cloth to the swelling. She sucked in a breath as the cool fabric met the heat in her face.
Meeting his gaze, she curled her fingers around his wrist and lowered his hand. “Knight, I—”
“Forgive me,” he murmured and leaned in to kiss her.
She had no time to decide whether he meant for what had just happened or whether he was apologizing for the kiss. Either way, he needed no forgiveness, but she found herself unable to say as much when he moved his mouth to her swollen cheek and dropped a tender kiss there, then one on the bridge of her nose and another to her forehead.
Louisa closed her eyes and absorbed his tenderness. Rain pattered gently against the window and the bed creaked as he cupped a hand behind her head and eased her onto it. She coiled her arms around his neck, clinging like a sailor to a shipwreck. The feel of him, strong and secure against her body, made her mind swirl.
He kissed her lips again, and she opened her eyes to view him while she pushed her fingers through the soft strands of his dark hair then brought them down to cup his bristled jaw. An unbidden smile curved her lips. The candlelight warmed one side of his face, casting the other side in shadow. His gaze searched hers, a question lingering there. He might be a man of few words but she knew what he wanted.
“Please do not deny me again,” she pleaded.
Knight grunted. “As if I could.”
He touched a finger to her lips and she parted them, drawing in a breath thickened by need. Hitching up her chemise, he eased her legs apart and let his fingers linger on her thigh. She clutched him tight while his hand trailed up to her center, and she rose up to meet his touch.
“Oh.” She closed her eyes and tilted her head back while his fingers danced over her, sending delicious whorls of pleasure through her. He kissed her neck and drew her lobe between his teeth, making her shudder.
The sheets rustled beneath them while he freed himself from his breeches. Opening her eyes, Louisa lifted her head to meet his kiss and drew him fully onto her. His gaze latched onto hers as he joined them, inch by inch, moment by moment. She gasped at the sensation and felt the heat of tears in the corner of her eyes. He rocked into her, and she buried her head against his chest until the pleasure broke and washed over them both.
Knight said nothing as he tugged the blankets over them both and took her in his arms. Louisa smiled to herself. Of course she expected no different from him, but at least he was not running away from her this time.
Chapter Thirteen
Splinters of daylight seeped through the shutters, dusting Louisa’s bare skin with an ethereal glow. Knight swallowed and ran his gaze over her. A bruise stained her cheek and several scratches were visible. If he’d only reached her sooner, she would never have suffered so.
He lifted a hand and let it hover over her shoulder. The heat of her body seeped through the gap, beckoning to him. There was nothing he wanted more than to wake her with kisses and take her again. But reason fled him when he was lost in her. He could not let it happen again. He’d already spilled in her once and if she caught, he would be honor bound to marry her. That was something neither of them wanted—even if she did not realize it yet. He was hardly suited to the role of husband let alone father.
Knight gave in, briefly. He lowered the hand and stroked the bare skin of her shoulder. She began to rouse, her lids fluttered as she rolled onto her back. Standing swiftly, he sought out his breeches and tugged them on. The cut on his back sent a swift spear of pain through him, and he winced. Apparently brawling last night had done damage again, and he suspected he’d re-opened the wound.
Louisa stretched and peered blearily up at him. “What time is it?”
He struggled to answer for a moment. With her hair tousled around her shoulders, the sheets caressing her naked body, and her lips rosy and swollen, she was temptation in itself.
“Knight?” she prompted.
“Right. Yes.” He twisted and fished his pocket watch from his jacket, flipping it open and grimacing. “Nearly midday.”
“I cannot recall the last time I slept so late.” She gave a small smile.
“We had better make haste if we are to speak to Mrs. Stanton.”
She nodded, opened her mouth then closed it again.
“Louisa, I—”
Her lips curved. “You know, you rarely use my name.”
No. It was too dangerous. Her name on his lips made him feel weak. Hell, she made him feel weak.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, his voice low while he silently cursed himself for his cowardice. All he needed to do was remind her of who he was—what he was. She had an inn and a life to return home to and had no need of a man like him.
“A little sore.” She chewed on her bottom lip before lifting her gaze to his. “Knight...”
“We cannot let that happen again,” he said swiftly. If he waited any longer, he was going to wind up bedding her again and getting lost in her sweet kisses and even sweeter body.
Something flickered in her gaze, and she drew up her knees, wrapping her arms about the sheets covering them. She nodded slowly. “I know.”
He released a long exhale. She agreed. That was what he wanted.
Why then did it stab at his gut to know she thought it a mistake too?
“I am a smuggler, Louisa.” Her name slipped from his lips, and he regretted it. It tasted too good on his tongue, made him want to climb back under the sheets with her and say it over and over, letting the words caress her skin. “My life is dangerous...and complicated. I know you do not need such a person in your life.”
She lifted her gaze to his. “I understand, Knight. You need not defend yourself.” She reached out to him, and he found himself closing the distance between them and placing his hand in hers. When she curled her fingers around his large hand, he had to drag his gaze away from the sight. “I do not regret last night, but you are right—we cannot let that happen again.”
He forced himself to swallow the knot in his throat. “Good.” The word came out strained.
“Besides, you are not only a smuggler, you are a viscount.”
“Most women would think that an advantage.”
“I am not most women, and a simple innkeeper cannot marry...that is...” Louisa clamped her mouth shut.
He nodded and blew out a breath thick with frustration. This was the r
esponse he needed. If they both vowed that they would not repeat this, there would be no temptation. He should not be frustrated, but he damn well was. He eased his hand from her grip then scooped up his shirt and wrenched it over his head, thrusting his arms violently into the sleeves and pulling it down. Aware of her gaze on him, he purposely avoided looking at her while he shoved his feet into boots and left the laces undone.
“I shall fetch some food while you ready yourself,” he told her. “Then we can go to Abigail’s lodgings.”
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“You have nothing to thank me for.”
“You saved me last night. And have delayed your plans for several days. Not to mention...” She gave a strained smile. “Well, you comforted me when I needed it most.”
Uncertain how to respond, he simply gave a curt nod and left the room. He could have requested food for them and been served fairly rapidly. Despite the time of day, the taproom was not even half-full. He imagined a lot of the guests had travelled on and new ones would not arrive until the evening. However, he waited to order food until he had drained an ale. The cold liquid flowed through him, and he closed his eyes to savor it. If he had nothing better to do, he would be tempted to indulge in several more in an attempt to silence his own rambling thoughts, but Louisa was waiting on him.
With any luck, they would persuade Abigail to return to Cornwall with Louisa and identify Hugh as her husband. Once that was done, he would leave for Northumberland immediately and settle this damned estate business. By the time he returned, their nights together would be forgotten and he could go back to the stasis that was him watching her from afar.
And his gritty life as a smuggler, ducking the excise men and using his brawn and jagged looks to intimidate any who thought to cross them.
Knight returned to the room to find Louisa dressed with her hair tied up in a ribbon. He offered her a plate of fish and sliced meat, and he eased himself down onto the chair in the corner while she remained on the bed. They ate in silence, and he could not claim to have tasted one morsel of it. Temptation kept pulling its tantalizing lasso, drawing his gaze to her. Fingers tight around his fork, he eyed the bruise on her cheek. Anger ran its hot, spikey fingers through him until he let his gaze fall on her lips or her neck, even the wispy curls surrounding her face. Then he was transported back to last night. He could not fail to recall every soft moment, every whispered word. He’d never made love to a woman before—not truly.
What's a Rogue Got To Do With It (Rogues of Redmere Book 4) Page 9
