Come the Night (The Dangerous Delameres - Book 1)

by Skye, Christina

  The villain was laughing at her!

  They had all laughed at her when she’d insisted on taking charge of her father’s lavender farm at his death two years before. At first her greedy brother-in-law, Sir Charles Millbank, had tried to wrest the land from her control, but the terms of William St. Clair’s will had been clear: Silver would hold Lavender Close until her brother, Brandon, reached his majority.

  And Silver had proved them all wrong, producing a fine harvest every year since her father’s death.

  She had shown them. And she would show this man too!

  Her blood burned as his gaze moved over her heaving chest. Tightening her fingers, she leveled the pistol at his neck. “Here will do nicely, I expect.”

  “Go ahead and pull the trigger, my sweet. Since I’ve already tasted all the delights of a life misspent, I might as well see what novelties death has to offer.”

  The coldness and sheer indifference in his voice made Silver shiver. “But surely — that is, you cannot wish to die.”

  Blackwood shrugged. “There is so little spice left, my dear. Life becomes quite trying when one has tasted every vice and sampled every sin. You can have no idea.”

  “In that you are right,” Silver said stiffly.

  But as her breast was shoved against his arm while she spoke, her disapproving speech lost some of its sting. Flushing, she tried to squirm away, only to feel her hip lodge against the saddle of his thighs.

  None of which escaped the notorious highwayman’s notice.

  He shifted beneath her, bringing her lower still, until she came into full and heated contact with his exceedingly aroused male anatomy.

  Silver gasped. Her cheeks red, she struggled to sit up but it was like fighting a Channel wind. She thought of shouting for help, but who was there to hear?

  “Let me go, you — you brute!”

  “I think not, beauty.” Amber eyes blazed through the slitted silk. “Not until I have your name. And perhaps even more than that…”

  “You shall have nothing from me this night!” Silver shoved her pistol downward, somewhere in the vicinity of his shoulder. “I know how to fire this weapon. And use it I shall!”

  “By all means,” came the bored answer. “Fire away.”

  Silver’s eyes snapped, a fury of green and gold. “You damnable creature! I will fire, I warn you!”

  “Of course you will,” the highwayman observed calmly. “As soon as your fingers stop shaking. Do get it right the first time, won’t you? It would be very bad form to leave me lying bloody and only half dead out here.”

  “I could hardly miss at this distance!”

  “You think not? I fear that your aim seems rather in question. Never done this sort of thing before, have you?” His tone was utterly sympathetic.

  Silver looked down, furious to see that her hand was shaking. He was right, of course. “Oh, bloody hell!”

  But the rakish highwayman who had faced death with utter equanimity suddenly froze. His fingers tightened on Silver’s waist. “Be still.”

  “Why should I even consider—”

  “Silence, I said!” This time the urgency in his voice silenced her.

  The man known as the Black Lord eased back into the shadows. Turning his mount, he studied the strip of road glimmering in the moonlight to the north.

  And then Silver heard it, the quick clip-clop of horse hooves coming fast.

  In the blink of an eye her pistol was wrested from her fingers. Sputtering furiously, she tried to regain it, only to feel a hard hand clamped across her mouth.

  “Quiet now, love. It appears my domain is to be breached a second time this night. And I’d advise you not to move. You are very delectable, and you might not care for the consequences.”

  Silver gasped as she felt his thigh drive against her hip.

  “Exactly,” her captor said grimly.

  Don’t listen to him, Silver told herself wildly. Above all don’t look into his eyes.

  But it was too late. She turned and was lost.

  Those strange, sharp eyes…

  Silver felt a hammering in her chest as she was drawn down into their shadowed depths. The color of finest amber they were, flecked with hot veins of gold.

  Brightness within shadow. Not at all what she had expected.

  Heat swept her cheeks. The night became a thing of mystery. Of storm and fury.

  The highwayman’s full lips curved in a knowing smile. “A grave mistake, little one. You have looked into my eyes and that makes you mine. For ‘tis all true, my beauty, every grim tale and ruthless deed that legend assigns me. The Lord of Blackwood has done them all, I assure you, so do not think to trifle with me.” As if to strengthen this warning, his fingers slid to her waist.

  A moment later three riders broke from the wooded vale. Their faces were muffled in dark wool and each one wielded a pistol.

  “Damn it, where’d the wench go? I could have sworn—”

  “Her horse! It’s over there!”

  “I don’t want the horse, I want the bloody female! She’s got to be here somewhere. He swore she’d be coming this way tonight!”

  Fear blocked Silver’s throat. She watched in horror as the riders pulled her mare to a halt and jumped down to paw through her saddlebags. What were they doing? She had nothing of value with her. Nothing except—

  Her face paled as one of the men slit her leather bag with a knife. She tried to move, but the highwayman’s fingers tightened warningly on her waist.

  “Aye, she’s a bold piece, that St. Clair bitch. But even she’d not venture onto the devil’s heath this late. She must be down the hill. Maybe her horse threw her.”

  His companion laughed roughly. “And her with her skirts tossed up over her rump? That’d be a rare sight, lads. Let’s go and enjoy it!”

  As the trio galloped off, Silver’s horror grew. They knew her name. They had followed her here! But why?

  “Friends of yours?”

  She shook her head, trying to avoid the highwayman’s keen eyes. “I h-have no idea who they are.”

  “Unfortunate. It appears that they knew exactly what they were looking for. Do you carry some treasure that has escaped my notice?”

  With a quick thrust he lifted his leg over the saddle and slid to the ground, with Silver still locked against his chest.

  They landed upon the heath with a thump. She was up and struggling even before she could catch her breath. Thrusting her russet curls from her face, she scrambled toward the road.

  And then she felt a prick, the very lightest of pricks, just at her shoulder.

  She turned slowly — and stared down the gleaming length of a polished silver blade.

  The rapier rose and gently lifted a strand of hair from her shoulder. Silver shivered, feeling the man’s perfect control as he brushed the lace at her neck and skimmed the cameo pinned there.

  “A nice enough bobble, but hardly worth the interest of those ruffians. You see, I know all the men who work these roads. That particular trio will perform any task for a fee, but they are singularly expensive. Which means that someone of substantial means thought the job worth doing and doing well.”

  With that his rapier slid lower, into the lace clustered at Silver’s bodice.

  The next second his steel sliced off two buttons, leaving her riding jacket and underbodice to fall open over creamy skin.

  “Stop! You cannot—”

  He ignored her, moving with lightning skill and a grace that left Silver breathless, feeling only the barest kiss of air upon her skin.

  This time her chemise was slit. And then the velvet ribbon beneath.

  With one quick twist he found the small linen bag she wore and captured it on his blade.

  “Noooo! Give it back. You can’t take that!”

  The highwayman’s eyes narrowed. “Do continue, my dear. You interest me vastly. What do you have in this bag that is so terribly valuable?”

  “N-nothing.” Silver’s lips clenched. �
�Nothing at all, blast you.”

  Blackwood frowned, fingering the unimpressive square of linen. His nose curled as he brought the bag close and sniffed. “Lavender? An elegant scent, but hardly worth—”

  “Give it back to me!” Silver launched out, her fingers flying wildly for his masked face. “It’s mine!”

  In her fury Silver knocked the bag from his fingers. She watched in shock, her face bleeding white as the precious seeds, the outcome of years of planting and careful selection, spilled over the dark ground. “Oh, no! They cannot be lost. They must not!”

  The Virginia planter she’d seen tonight in King’s Lynn had been so impressed with the seeds that he’d arranged to come to Lavender Close with an offer. That money could have bought her several months of freedom from the creditors who had been swarming like bees ever since her father’s death. Silver had managed to pay off one and then another, but each month it was growing harder.

  Now it was too late. The seeds were lost. She was ruined.

  A single tear spilled from her green-gold eyes.

  “They were of such value then?” Her captor frowned. “A memento from a lover, perhaps? Some family token?”

  Silver rounded on him angrily. “Of course they were valuable! But what would a villain like yourself know about hard work? About days spent in the blazing sun or a chill Norfolk drizzle?”

  There was a glint in the highwayman’s eyes. “You might be surprised, my dear.”

  “Well, now it’s gone, do you hear? All of it gone. Without those seeds I can never hope to—” Silver caught herself with a sob and swung her head away from those piercing eyes.

  “Come, it can hardly be so bad as that.”

  Oh, but it was. It was all that bad and more, Silver thought wildly. Now she would have to put off her creditors yet again. She would have to make her workers wait for their wages and deny her brother the tools he needed for his experiments.

  Of course she could always ask Sir Charles Millbank for help. He had made that clear on his several visits to Lavender Close. He had also made his price clear — the possession of her body.

  No, she would never ask for that cur’s help. Nor for a highwayman’s!

  Silver wrenched away, shoving a line of tears from her cheek. Abruptly hard fingers slid over her chin and forced her face upward. She closed her eyes, trying to block out his strange, keen stare.

  And then she gasped as Blackwood seized her hands and studied the sturdy, work-roughened palms. “Yet again, you astound me, little beauty,” her captor whispered. “So you truly have done all those things you spoke of.” His lips brushed her palm. Heat seemed to flow wherever he touched.

  “You work for the St. Clairs, do you? They must drive you hard that you wear such calluses. Did you borrow your mistress’s riding costume tonight? Is that why you were hurrying home, to return it before she discovers your theft — and her seeds along with it?”

  “It was no theft!”

  “Of course not.” The man’s full lips curved slightly. “Merely a loan.” His mouth touched the sensitive skin at the base of one finger.

  Silver shuddered. What was wrong with her? Why were her knees shaking so strangely?

  Her captor drew her closer. His hand slid deep into her wild auburn hair.

  She had to get away! She had to get home before—

  “Give me your name,” the highwayman demanded hoarsely. “I must know to whom I’ve lost my heart.” He spoke softly, but there was an edge of dark hunger in his voice that made Silver’s heart spin oddly in her chest.

  “Silver.”

  “Pardon?”

  Her eyes widened at his accented question. “You are French?”

  The scar gleamed at his full lips. “I am — many things, little one. But why this word, silver?”

  “It is my name.” She told him no more. It would be far safer if he believed her only a lowly servant.

  “Silver.” He repeated the name slowly, measuringly. “I should have expected nothing less. An exceptional name for an exceptional creature. Something tells me you’ve eyes to match your name.”

  For a moment Susannah St. Clair forgot about her vicious brother-in-law, forgot about the poverty that had dogged her since her father’s death. She even forgot about the precious lavender seeds that lay scattered upon the dark earth.

  Such was the power of the man’s charm. Now she understood exactly how the masked Lord of Blackwood had acquired his legendary reputation for seduction. Though she knew she should be fighting to escape, Silver couldn’t seem to pull away from the warm brush of his lips against her hand.

  Not that she could have escaped him anyway. At that moment her legs felt like a mound of orange trifle. And a melting one at that.

  “What if I could restore those lavender seeds you place such high value upon?”

  Hope surged through her. “Could you? Oh, would you?”

  “I might be persuaded. For a small token, that is.”

  “What manner of token?” Her voice, usually low, now fell even lower. She knew the risk in opening any sort of negotiation with a hardened criminal such as this. But she was desperate.

  The catch in her voice made her captor’s eyes glitter dangerously. It made his body go tense and his fingers tighten, sheathed deep in her warm, brandy-red hair. It made him yearn to tug that silly little riding hat from her head and push her down beneath him on the dark heathland while he bared her silken body to his hot gaze.

  But he did not. For all her fire she was clearly an innocent. Norfolk’s most notorious highwayman told himself that he had not yet stooped so low as that.

  “Token? Not your brooch, certainly. You can ill afford to lose that, since it, too, must belong to your mistress.” His lips curled. “Not that it’s worth much, for it is an inferior copy.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Ah, my silly innocent, in my business it is necessary for me to know such things.”

  He was right, of course. All the good jewelry had been sold long ago. Even so, Silver didn’t care to have this mocking stranger remind her of the fact. And it meant she had nothing left to barter with, for now even her seeds were gone.

  Not that he would care for seeds.

  “What do you want of me?”

  The breathless sound of her voice made him scowl. “Not your jewelry. Not your virtue, either, little fool. Acquit me of the offense of ravishing virgins.”

  Her eyes widened. “But everyone says—”

  “My crimes are legion, sweet, but they do not yet run to that. Nor have I the slightest need. Far too many giddy females throw themselves at my feet already. They are most eager to offer their bodies, when all I wish is to divest them of their jewels.”

  “Oh.” Silver’s head cocked. “But how did you know this?”

  “That you are a virgin?” Blackwood’s rapier probed a curl that had strayed across her cheek. “Because of the pulse that beats there at your neck. Because of the flush that stains your satin cheeks, little one. They make incontrovertible evidence to experienced eyes like mine.”

  There was bitterness and something else in his voice. Something that sounded almost like regret.

  Silver frowned. “It must be a great trial to you, this wild sort of life dashing about the heath courting death. Dogged everywhere by languishing females just waiting to be seduced. It cannot be very … well, comfortable.”

  “Comfortable?” The highwayman broke into a startled laugh. “You are right about that. Alas, there is such riffraff upon the high road these days, and all of them claim their felonies in my name.” Abruptly Blackwood sheathed his rapier, then stared down into Silver’s shadowed face. “But what would a slip of a thing like you know about seduction and languishing females?”

  Silver shrugged. “Oh, not so very much. Being a servant of the St. Clairs, I live very quietly in this district.” There was sadness in her voice for a moment. Once it had been different, of course. Once there had been gowns and balls and laughter. Once
she had had a mother to guide her and a father to protect her.

  But no more…

  Abruptly Silver drew herself up to her full five and one half feet. “At least we lived quietly until you came to harass us. And I am not totally without contact with the world, I assure you.”

  The amber eyes gleamed lazily. “I’m glad to hear it, Sunbeam. This would be a strange sort of place if a woman of your fire and beauty was ignored.”

  Silver blinked at the softness in his voice. She felt dizzy suddenly. Her blood seemed to race, first hot, then cold. It was not precisely comfortable, this feeling — but it was not entirely unpleasant either.

  Certainly it was unusual. Silver had never before felt this way in the presence of any man. Sheer shock held her still. “Why do you call me Sunbeam?”

  Blackwood studied her. “Because there is a glow about you, an honesty that I have not often seen.”

  His jaw hardened. Somehow Silver realized his intent even before his head began to fall. Even then she did not move or cry out as she should have.

  “You — cannot,” she whispered. “I should not even think of—”

  His eyes glittered. “All too true, little one. You should not. But ‘tis too late for running. Far too late. And though my dark domain has many roads leading into it, not one of them ever leads out again.”

  His lip curled. The movement made the scar just below his mask gleam in the moonlight. Somehow Silver could not tear her eyes away from that pale, gleaming curve.

  “Besides, my beauty, you have looked into my eyes. Now you are mine forever…”

  And then his mouth swept down, hot and hard atop hers. She closed her eyes with a shiver, knowing what he said was true.

  She was lost, well and truly lost, just as her old nanny had warned.

  And as his lips opened over hers, Silver decided she didn’t even care…

  As a touch it was faint, a mere hint of pressure.

  And yet at the same time it was damnably deceiving. After all, what danger could there be in just one kiss?

  She found out when his lips hardened, sliding hot and sure over hers.

  Grave danger, Silver thought dimly. Oh, he was good, this midnight lord.