“Hot baths all around, then!” Colin dug into his weskit for a coin, then frowned. “Bailiwick, did Wilberforce send you with pence or three? I appear to have been robbed.”
“I’ve two guineas, sir,” Bailiwick said proudly. “One for you and one for Lady Melody.”
“Good man.” He grinned foolishly down at Pru. “Miss Filby, I order you to have a bath.” A dreamy glaze passed over his eyes. “You like baths. I remember when I caught you bathing by the stream—”
“Bailiwick! See to the children!” Pru jumped to her feet and glared at the two men flanking the rambling Colin. “You there, take Sir Colin to a room and order up baths for us.”
Bailiwick jumped to obey, as did the village man.
“Isn’t it droll when she talks posh like that? One would almost think she’d been speaking so all her life . . .” Colin’s cheerful rambling faded with distance. Pru closed her eyes and ordered the always ready blush on her cheeks to fade.
It was hard to be ginger.
Pru bathed quickly and efficiently, though she longed to dawdle in the warm water. The children would be returning soon. There would be carefully edited explanations to give and heaven knew when Mr.—when Sir Colin would be fit to give them.
The fact that she was dying for a few explanations of her own didn’t signify, she thought bitterly. She was no one, after all.
She donned her nightgown to wear while she dried the greater part of the water from her hair. After she’d pulled her damp hair back in a quick twist, she dug out her second-to-last clean gown. Again it was a simple dark dress with no real shape. A servant’s dress.
It was becoming harder and harder to clothe herself in such things. It was becoming harder to remember why she should.
A crash and a curse came from the next room. She waited for someone to respond but she heard nothing but slow and steady profanity in a deep, familiar voice. Setting her gown aside, she went to the door. Biting her lip, she peeked into the hallway, but there was no one there. Slipping out of her room, she went to the next door and tapped lightly.
“Mr.—” Blast it! Would she never remember? “Sir Colin? Is everything all right?”
“Bloody mumble-mumble. Damn it all to mumble-mumble.”
Pru pressed the latch and opened the door just a crack. “Sir?”
“Pru? Come in! Come in!”
She entered, then realized that she ought not to have. Sir Colin was sprawled on the floor next to the tub, entirely naked but for a drugged grin and an advantageously draped piece of toweling.
And the towel was slipping.
CHAPTER 31
On the floor, Colin flopped over onto his back and looked up at Pru. “Now I know how Gordy Ann feels.”
“Gordy Ann,” Pru muttered as she bent to help him, “is far too intelligent to get herself into such a pickle.” Do not look. Do not.
“Pickle? Ambushed by opium runners is a pickle?”
“If you’d stayed with us where you belong, you and the opium runners would never have met.”
He shook his head. The motion was a little wobbly. “We would have, you know. All Chantal’s lovers are converging in this chase.”
Bloody Chantal. “She is a one-woman disaster on wheels.”
“Shiny spinning curricle wheels,” Colin said dreamily.
Chantal was shiny, all right. A bright and shiny toy mesmerizing men all over England. “You reek.”
“I scraped off the worst of it.”
Pru looked at the wreckage of poor Olive’s best linens. “I see that.”
He shrugged. “What’s the point of bathing if the water is filthy?”
“And will you replace what you’ve ruined in the process?”
His dreamy eyes fixed on her face. “You’re quite pretty, you know. Even when you’re angry with me . . .” He laughed. “No, especially when you’re angry with me . . .”
Her heart flipped over in her chest. You’re pretty.
I covet you.
“Now is hardly the time, sir.” Taking a muscular arm in both her hands, she helped him to his feet. The towel around his waist slipped. He grabbed for it but it fell to the floor. “Oops.” He gave her an embarrassed grin.
I will not look down. I will not look down.
She glanced down, then yanked her gaze right back up. Her palms went damp . . . and that wasn’t all. Oh, my.
I hope he didn’t see me do that.
Fortunately, Colin was still too dreamy to notice much. With her help he climbed into the tub and slid beneath the concealing soapsuds.
Pru straightened and wiped her damp palms on her nightgown. Looking down at herself, she realized that her old, thin gown was no match for the way his nearness affected her nipples.
Next time, she would dress before getting close to him.
Crossing her arms over her chest, she backed away from the tub as he closed his eyes and lay back with a sigh.
And nearly went under.
“Sir Colin!” Stepping forward quickly, she plunged both hands into the water and grabbed him by the shoulders. “Wake up!”
He came up blinking and sputtering, then clumsily pressed her away. “I’m fine, I’m fine. It’s just rather remarkable . . . every time I close my eyes . . .”
Pru took a deep breath. “I think I’d best stay with you.”
He smiled at her. “That’s nice. I like it when you’re with me.” He leered happily at the front of her nightdress. “Especially when you’re wet.”
“Oh, for pity’s sake!” She grabbed up his discarded towel and threw it over her shoulders like a shawl, hiding her dampened bosom.
His brow crinkled. “What a shame. Such a magnificent pair of—”
She tossed the sponge into the water, splashing his face. “Time to get the pig off you.”
He dutifully tried, but the soap eluded his fumbling grasp and he had the tendency to fall asleep in the middle of scrubbing. Finally, Pru had had enough.
“Give me that.” She knelt by the tub and took the sponge from his hand. “Where’s the bar of soap?”
He blinked at her innocently. “I dropped it.”
She stared him down. “Then find it.”
He snickered and began to feel around the bottom of the tub. “It was worth a try, don’t you think?” He found it and handed it to her.
She bit her lip. Laughing would only reward him. She soaped the sponge well. “Lean forward.” His shoulders ought to be a safe enough area to begin.
Except for the fact that she happened to be particularly fond of his wide, muscled shoulders. Except for the fact that she couldn’t resist using her hands as well as the sponge, stroking over and over his slippery skin to remove the black stain of the mud.
He sat quietly with his hands braced on the sides of the tub and his head bent, submitting to her touch once again. There wasn’t a sound in the room but the small splashes of the bath and their own breaths.
Pru’s mouth went dry and her body began to hum with an unfamiliar vibration—unfamiliar until she’d encountered this man. Now it seemed that she was always in some state of excitation when he was in the room. Here, now, spreading her hands wide over his hard back, feeling the muscles shift under his skin, seeing the way the light moved and rippled with his every breath, outlining every hard ridge and flexing fiber . . .
Her body tightened, squeezing her thighs together involuntarily. This strange state, this awakening to senses she hadn’t known she had, what was she to do with all of this . . . this power?
She swallowed hard and leaned back, dragging her hands from his skin with effort. “I have to wash your hair.” Was that her voice, all husky and shaking? “Sit up and tilt your head back.”
When he lifted his head, the expression blazing in his hot green gaze made her look away.
“Close your eyes,” she ordered as she picked up the tin pitcher and plunged it into the water to fill it. She used one hand to shield his eyes while she poured the water over his scalp. Then she ru
bbed her hands full of lather and began to work it into his thick hair.
The suds turned dark as his hair turned fair once more. She rinsed it and then lathered it again. This time she rubbed slowly to get all the grit free . . . and also because she loved running her hands through his hair. She itched to since the first moment she’d seen him holding Melody on that stage in Brighton. He’d been like a golden god standing there, except he’d been so real and solid in that place of lies and fantasy.
He’d offered her everything she’d thought she wanted and had delivered it as well.
Why now did she want more? Why couldn’t she simply take his pay and watch his child and then go on her way?
I don’t want to part from him.
You’ll have to tell him the truth.
He won’t understand why I’ve lied.
You’ll have to trust him to.
She rinsed his hair once more and sat back. “Can you manage the rest?” I cannot do this any longer. I can’t sit here in this steamy intimacy and be his servant girl.
So tell him. Trust him.
Perhaps . . . perhaps I can.
Perhaps I will.
He opened his eyes and ran wet hands through his hair. “I’m clean. How wonderful.” He smiled at her, his grin a little off center. “You saved me.”
She lifted her chin. “Don’t worry, guv, it won’t happen again,” she retorted saucily.
He reached out and took her hand, splashing her in the process. “Pru, I mean it. You saved me.” He blinked and shook his head, trying to focus his vision. “In the inn last night, on the road here, in Brighton.” His words tumbled over each other a bit, but he pressed on. “You keep saving me, again and again. Why do you do that?”
His hand was large and hot wrapped around hers. She stared at it so that she wouldn’t have to meet his eyes. “That’s what you’re payin’ me for, guv.”
“Since when is such a valiant heart for hire?”
When no one wants it for free.
She tried to slip her hand from inside his. His grip tightened, not harshly but not yielding, either. “Why won’t you talk to me, Pru? What secrets are you keeping? What is going on behind those impossible eyes of yours?”
She lifted her head then, snapping her gaze to meet his. “You’re a fine one to talk, Sir Colin!”
He blinked. “Sir Colin. Yes.”
“You never mentioned it.”
He shrugged. “It’s a bit new. I’m still getting used to it.”
“You were knighted. By the Prince Regent himself.”
He nodded. “Prinny, yes. With a sword and everything. It felt very odd.”
“So you’re Sir Colin and Melody is Lady Melody.”
He blinked rapidly. “Well, yes. No matter who her father is really, she would be Lady Melody, wouldn’t she?”
Pru narrowed her eyes. “Are you her father?”
“I think so, yes.” He lifted his brows and smiled. “That’s a bit new as well.”
Nanny Pruitt took me to Brown’s to meet my papa.
“So you’ve recently discovered you have a child.”
He nodded, a few times too many.
Pru hesitated. It seemed in this state she could ask him anything and he would tell her the truth. It was a heady power but she ought to take care. Knowing too much could be dangerous.
Yet she had to know. “Who is Melody’s mother?”
Don’t say it. Don’t say—
“Chantal. Chantal is Melody’s mother.” He shook his head. “At least . . . I need to be . . . I need to find Chantal.” He held her hand and gazed into her eyes, trying mightily to focus his pupils. “Do you understand why it’s so important to find her?”
Pru nodded slowly. “To ask her about Melody.”
“Yes, and to wed her.”
Pru drew back. “Are you using Melody to get Chantal to marry you?”
“Yes.” He blinked. “I mean . . . there’s more, don’t you see? I need Chantal!”
Pru stiffened. “You’ve made that very clear. You’re mad for her.”
“No, no, not anymore. I see now that she’s . . . she’s not the woman I thought she was.”
“Then why?”
He let his head fall back in frustration. “I can’t . . . words aren’t coming . . .” Lifting his gaze to hers, he held her hand and drew her closer. The intensity in his green eyes made her breathless.
“Melody is a b . . . a bastard.” He said it as if he could scarcely bear to use the word. “I can fix that. I can make her part of Society, make her my own in truth . . .”
Ah. Pru’s heart broke a little as the fog cleared. “You can legitimize her birth if you wed Chantal.”
“I must. I must wed Chantal.”
There it was. It had been right in front of her the entire time. His drive, his compulsion, his burning desire to find the woman he’d once loved—it was all to save little Melody from a life of being snubbed and ridiculed. If he didn’t, no matter how powerful her father might be and no matter how openly he might claim her, the shadow of illegitimacy would follow that sweet child forever.
She would always be on the outside, looking in.
Pru’s chest tightened. A wave of protectiveness swept her. No. Not that, not for brave Melody, with her passion for bloody pirate tales and her silly little knot doll.
And Colin, desperate to become the father Melody needed, was willing to wed an amoral woman who was bound to make him unhappy for the rest of his life, just to give Melody the future she deserved.
He was still watching her, blinking in his effort to fix his eyes upon her. “Do you understand now?”
She nodded, for she did not trust herself to words. I understand and now I understand that I can never have you and that’s really, truly too bad because I just realized that I am in love with you, entirely and completely.
No, best not to speak just now.
Or ever.
After she’d helped a clean and naked Colin to bed in the best room, Pru slowly descended the stairs to find Olive nearly had the public room back to rights.
Pru smiled wearily at her new friend. “Don’t you ever stop?”
“Rugg is due back this mornin’ and I don’t want ’im to worry too much. He’ll hear the tales right enough, can’t help that. Still, if he comes back to a shambles, he’ll never dare ride out again!”
Pru fell into a chair. “You were up all night. Stop before I sit on you.”
Olive gazed about her domain and declared herself satisfied. “Once Rugg gets them new benches and all, it’ll be right nice.” She pulled up the last chair and sat with Pru.
“When I saw ’em throw you in the cellar, I was that worried. Didn’t know if they’d ever let you out again.”
Pru shook her head. “It wasn’t so bad. I don’t mind the dark.”
“Ye got rid o’ that snake, Gaffin.” Olive gazed at her keenly. “That were right clever. How did you think o’ that so quickly?”
Pru shrugged listlessly. “I was too terrified to do anything else.” As the fear and fury and tension of the last twenty-four hours began to leak away, it left her empty and weary to her bones.
“You ain’t no servant girl, I can tell ye that.”
Pru let out a long sigh. “No, I’m not. I’m not anything. Neither fur nor fowl.” Abruptly she put her head down on her folded arms. Gentle work-roughened hands fell upon her shoulders.
“It’s all over now, pet. Ye can let it go.”
Pru sniffled. “But what about next time? What if I can’t think of anything brilliant next time? Or the time after that? What if something terrible happens to Evan? Or Melody?” Or Colin?
People died every day. Mothers and fathers and children and even strong powerful men. Sometimes she felt as though storm and evil and accident waited around every corner, ready to steal away the people she loved.
Olive chuckled. “Nothin’s going to happen to ’em. They’re fine. Come here. I got somethin t’show ye.”
&nbs
p; Olive tugged her into the kitchen. There sat the children by the fire. Evan was proudly showing Melody a scrape on his knee. Melody bent to peer closely at it, awe and admiration etched into her round little face.
Pru gave a damp little laugh. They were fine. They were beautiful.
They had all survived the night. Now if she could just survive the rest of her journey with Colin.
Colin woke with a foul taste in his mouth and new bruises all over his body. Memory swept into his mind.
Gaffin’s band. Pru in danger.
He remembered part of the night very clearly. After he’d been pinned down and stuffed with opium, everything was a smeary mix of images and sensation, smoke and dreams.
The dark chill of the cellar.
Pru in the rain. Pru wrapped around his cock, shivering in orgasm.
Oh, surely not. An opium dream. Unfortunately.
The smell of pig.
He lifted one arm and sniffed it. A trace of swine remained, nearly wiped out by the smell of soap.
Pru’s hands roaming over his wet, naked body.
Her bodice soaked, her nipples rosy and evident.
No. Another dream.
Then the bathtub full of grimy water and the piles of soaked toweling by the fire caught his eye.
Perhaps not a dream, after all.
He dressed, moving his sore body carefully. His ribs ached with every motion. He’d had a few beatings in his time. The ribs didn’t feel broken. He’d be fine in a few days. All in all, he’d come out fairly unscathed.
Which meant that he had no reason not to resume the search for Chantal at once.
He went down the stairs to see the inn looking as though nothing had happened. How long had he been asleep?
He smelled a meat stew and pushed open the door to the kitchen. Olive stood at the stove, stirring, while Pru sat at the table peeling potatoes. On the floor by the fire, Melody watched Evan play a game involving a handful of stones and a small India rubber ball while she chewed on a corner of Gordy Ann.
It was a blissful domestic scene. Oddly, it saddened Colin to his core.
What was he to do with Pru? She was too good for her position, too clever and brave by half to be a servant all her life. She glowed with honor and character, more beautiful than women with perfect faces.
Rogue in My Arms: The Runaway Brides Page 22
