Miss Frazer's Adventure

by Alexandra Ivy

  “I see. A very bold adventure, but it is nearly time for breakfast. Perhaps it would be best to continue your search another day?”

  “I . . . I am cruelly hungry,” he admitted even as he huddled more firmly upon the ledge. “But I think I might stay just a mite longer.”

  Realizing he was far too terrified to move on his own, Kate gave a nod of her head. “If you wish. Do you mind if I remain to keep you company?”

  He offered a watery smile. “I should like that very much.”

  “Good.” Keeping her attention upon the boy, Kate knelt as Luce began to ease himself a short way down the cliff and then over the side. It was obvious that he hoped to rescue Billie while she kept him distracted. She leaned down further, well aware that it was imperative that the boy not sense Luce’s approach. One wrong move and . . . she sucked in a steadying breath. “Do you know, I am out here to search for the hidden treasure as well?”

  “You are?”

  Her lips twitched at his obvious surprise. Clearly he thought her too old to be daring enough to search for a legendary booty.

  “Oh yes. I believe it must be very wonderful to discover a chest filled with ribbons and bows and pretty gowns.”

  As expected, Billie grimaced in horrified disdain. “Cripes, that ain’t no treasure.”

  “It isn’t?”

  “Course not. What would a pirate be wanting with bows and ribbons?”

  Her breath caught as her sideways glance revealed that Luce was boldly moving over the jagged rocks toward the young boy. He seemed utterly unaware of the danger as he easily pulled himself toward the ledge.

  She clenched her hands in fear as she returned her attention to her young friend.

  “What do you suppose the treasure to be, Billie?”

  He offered her a condescending sigh. “Why everyone knows it is gold coins and swords and diamonds as big as a meat pie.”

  “Good heavens, whatever would you do with such riches?”

  He took a moment to consider the pleasure of uncovering such a bounty. Thankfully, he did not seem to note the sound of pebbles being dislodged just behind him.

  “I should buy me ma a beautiful carriage so that she could drive about like a fancy lady, and me pa a new plow.”

  “Why, that is a lovely notion, Billie, but I believe your parents would be even more pleased to simply have you home with them.”

  His expression crumpled and the tears once again threatened. “Yes, Miss. I should dearly love to be home as well. Me ma promised to have muffins for tea.”

  Kate smiled in relief as the man moved onto the ledge and was within easy reach of the child.

  “Muffins? Then, indeed, we must ensure you are returned home with all possible haste.”

  “But ...” Billie’s protest was abruptly halted and he let loose a shrill screech as Luce firmly grasped him about the waist and hoisted him upward.

  Already suspecting what was about to occur, Kate was prepared to reach out and grasp the dangling form, wrapping him in her arms and pulling him away from the edge of the cliff. Once safe upon the grass, she continued to hold his shaking body close, pressing her cheek to his tousled hair.

  “Here now, you are safe, Billie,” she soothed, her anxious gaze remaining trained upon the edge of the cliff as Luce brazenly risked life and limb to pull himself upward and over the sharp precipice. Once again standing upon firm ground, he pushed back his ruffled golden hair as if he climbed about dangerous cliffs every day. “Nothing is going to happen to you.”

  Still shaking, the boy nevertheless managed to pull from her grasp and swat at the tears that had flowed freely down his grimy face.

  “I wasn’t frightened, Miss,” he said in choked tones. “Not truly.”

  “No, of course not,” she quickly agreed. “You are a very brave lad.”

  With a sniff, Billie’s eyes abruptly widened as the sound of a distant voice calling his name echoed through the air.

  “Ma. Oh lordy, she will be ever so mad I have been gone so long.”

  Kate reached out to ruffle his red hair. “You had best run along. Those muffins will not stay warm for long.”

  With a sudden smile, the lad was scurrying toward the nearby path, clearly recovering from his near disaster with a speed only a child could accomplish.

  Kate watched his hurried retreat before slowly turning to regard Luce with warm admiration. He had been . . . spectacular. A hero who had charged to the rescue with as much courage and daring as any warrior from ancient stories.

  Just at the point of revealing how much she admired what he had done, Kate suddenly widened her eyes, and she tilted back her head to laugh with rich enjoyment.

  * * *

  Luce scowled with fierce discomfort.

  Bloody hell. This was not how a knight in shining armor was supposed to be treated. Good grief, he had saved a child, at some not inconsiderable risk to himself, and returned him to his terrified family. But rather than being greeted with kisses and rose petals that were only suitable for a knight of old, he had been laughed at, mocked, and followed back to the inn by giggling children.

  It was all decidedly unjust.

  Of course, he had to admit he did not appear particularly knightly at the moment. His lips twitched with irrepressible humor as he glanced down at his once elegant attire, now thickly coated with a layer of mud. If truth be told, he looked more like something that had been found in the bogs than a gentleman.

  Glancing up, Luce met the twinkling gaze of Kate as she stood in the center of her chambers. Through the connecting door he could hear the servants preparing the hot bath he had ordered, but for the moment, he was unfortunately trapped in the rapidly drying muck.

  “I suppose you find this amusing, my sweet?” he demanded with an expression of magnificent disgust.

  “Of course not. You were very brave, Luce,” she said in choked tones.

  He lifted a brow at her patent lie. “Then why are you laughing?”

  She struggled a moment before her treacherous laughter rang through the room. “I was just thinking of those children as they followed us back to the inn.”

  He planted his hands on his hips, flakes of dried mud fluttering to the carpet.

  “You did precious little to halt their jesting.”

  Another bubble of laughter rose to her lips as she recalled the merry parade that had drawn the attention of every household in Brighton.

  “Well, it is not every day that they are treated to the sight of a nobleman covered in mud. They thought you the true Mad Monk.”

  “No, just a Mad Nobleman,” he protested. “Made all the more mad by allowing himself to be lured into traipsing through the fog and mud for a nonexistent treasure, I might add.”

  She gave a remarkably unsympathetic shrug. “I did tell you that you need not come with me.”

  His gaze narrowed as he gave a slow shake of his head. “And I told you that you are not going anywhere without me,” he retorted in possessive tones. “Speaking of which, I believe my bath is almost prepared. Would you care to join me? We could share luncheon among the bubbles.”

  Not surprisingly, that ready blush touched her soft features. “Actually, I believe I would prefer to share luncheon without bubbles and with a gentleman who is not quite such an interesting shade of gray.”

  “My dear, I am wounded,” he murmured, taking a step forward. “I was after all forced to endure humiliation after so heroically saving a young lad from his perch upon the cliff. Surely that is worthy of some reward?”

  Her lips twitched at his words. “Are good works not supposed to be a reward in themselves?”

  He allowed his gaze to sweep over her slender form, enticingly revealed by the soft peach gown.

  “I prefer a more . . . tangible reward.”

  She seemed to catch her breath at his soft words before she was sternly meeting his wicked gaze.

  “Perhaps Billie’s mother would be willing to share her muffins. He seemed to believe they wer
e quite tasty.”

  He wrinkled his nose. “Not at all what I had in mind.”

  “I fear that is the best offer you are going to receive,” she pertly retorted.

  A rueful amusement rippled over his mud-crusted features. “At least assure me that you were suitably impressed with my attempt to play the role of the knight in shining armor.”

  “Oh, I was definitely impressed,” she assured him.

  “Then I suppose being the town’s temporary jester was not entirely a waste of a morning.” He tilted his head to one side. “You are certain about that bath?”

  She wrinkled her nose at the pungent layer of sticky mud. “Very sure.”

  “Then how about a kiss to sooth my bruised pride?”

  “Umm . . . I believe I shall have to decline.”

  He heaved a disappointed sigh. “You are a hard and heartless woman, Miss Kate Frazer.”

  “No, I am a clean and tidy woman, and I intend to stay that way,” she informed him with a smile. “However, if you must insist upon a reward for your heroic deeds, I will order a tea tray with your favorite apple tarts.”

  “Mmm . . . actually, I believe apple tarts are your favorite, Kate.”

  “Really? How very odd.”

  He gave a low chuckle before turning and heading into his chamber. Despite the trials of the morning, he felt strangely lighthearted. Well, perhaps not so strange.

  Since his rescue of young Billie, there had been no mistaking the increased warmth within Kate. Oh, it had not been anything dramatic. She had not suddenly tossed herself at his feet. Or proclaimed the words of never-dying devotion he longed to hear. But there had been a definite thaw.

  It had been in the manner in which she had regarded him with those fascinating, changeable eyes. In the manner in which she had reached out to touch him when they were returning from the cliffs. And in the manner in which her expression had softened when she gazed at him.

  The wary barriers that she kept so rigidly between them were beginning to falter. Now he had to make certain that they crumbled completely. And he had to do so with enough finesse that he did not inadvertently ruin what progress he had managed to make.

  A rather fine-edged sword.

  With a wave of his hands, he dismissed the hovering servants and began peeling the stiffened clothes from his body. Then, with a deep sigh, he sank into the warm water and thankfully scrubbed the filth from his hair and countenance.

  A part of him longed to linger in the refreshing warmth and simply soak away the chill that seemed to have settled in his very bones from their lengthy walk. But a larger part of him was far too impatient to return to Kate’s company to waste a moment.

  They had only a few hours left in Brighton. He had to ensure that she was truly his before they returned to London.

  With that thought in mind, Luce left the bath and attired himself in a dark blue coat and a silver waistcoat studded with pearls. His golden hair was still damp, but he combed the locks in an elegant style toward his countenance and even took the tedious effort of tying his cravat into a far more elaborate knot than usual.

  At last deciding he had done all that was possible to make the maiden’s heart flutter, he gave a tug on his cuffs and moved across the room to pull open the connecting door.

  Rather to his amazement, he experienced the oddest flutter in the pit of his stomach. Nerves? Surely not.

  He had faced his father’s drunken fury. Raging seas. Murderous pirates.

  How the devil could a slip of a girl rattle his fire-forged courage?

  It was absurd.

  Dragging in a deep breath, Luce forced himself forward, not halting until he had crossed the chamber and was settling his long form on the sofa next to the titian-haired beauty. Perhaps a strategic mistake, he ruefully acknowledged as her warmth and alluring scent wrapped about him.

  His intent was to charm, not to pounce.

  Although . . . no, no, no. Definitely no pouncing.

  Fiercely gathering his frayed control, he met her searching gaze with a smile.

  “Well, my dear, I do hope that you have ordered a lavish tea,” he teased as he settled back in the cushions and draped an arm over the back of the sofa. “I have discovered that toting half the countryside back to the inn upon my clothing has given me rather a sharp appetite.”

  “Actually there was no need.” She leaned forward to pull the cloth off a large tray set on the table before them. What she revealed was an astonishing feast with thin-sliced ham, stuffed mushrooms, braised potatoes, and strawberries in cream. “It seems that the inn’s cook happens to be an aunt to young Billie and, after learning of your daring deeds, decided that you were in need of a reward.”

  “Good God.” Luce regarded the platters with genuine surprise. “Did someone tell her that an entire battalion rescued Billie?”

  Her lips twitched. “No, just one very muddy knight in shining armor.”

  “Ah, but now I am a well-scrubbed knight in shining armor,” he pointed out as he reached for a strawberry.

  “Yes, and decidedly less pungent.”

  He flashed her a scandalized glance. “Pungent? I will have you know that a Peer of the Realm is never pungent.”

  “Aromatic?”

  “Fragrant.”

  “Fah.” She wrinkled her nose at his teasing. “Your fragrance reeked to high heaven.”

  “Very well, I might have carried with me a . . . scent of muck and mire, but now I am freshly scrubbed.” He allowed his hand to drift along the back of the sofa toward her bare neck. “Of course if you have doubt I could always return to the bath and you could ensure that I did not miss a . . .”

  “That is quite all right,” she firmly interrupted, although her eyes glittered with amusement rather than the wariness he had come to dread. And most shockingly, she did not even attempt to pull away from his light touch. “I will trust you managed to scrape off the worst.”

  He heaved a deep sigh. “And I thought being a knight in shining armor would mean at least a few favors from my favorite damsel.”

  “Favors?”

  Of their own volition, his fingers cupped the back of her neck. Despite all his stern warnings not to press this maiden into full retreat, her flirtatious manner was impossible to resist.

  He was a gentleman and a pirate, not a saint.

  “It is tradition, you know.”

  “I . . .” She licked her full lips and Luce knew he was lost.

  With a low groan, he slowly lowered his head to that tempting mouth. “Allow me to demonstrate, my sweet.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  The hotel had not changed.

  There was still a polite hush that clung to the cozy lobby, a lovely spice of freshly cut flowers in the soft air and the tempting scent of baking bread that escaped from the nearby kitchens.

  Kate felt a shiver sneak down her spine as she climbed the wide stairs to her chambers.

  She was uncertain what she had expected.

  It had, after all, been only a few days since she left London. What could possibly have changed beyond the odd guest or two?

  But Kate knew she had expected it to be different. Perhaps because she was different. The handful of days alone with Luce might have been an eternity.

  She had left the city as a willful child who believed she possessed the will and the divine right to control her destiny. She had presumed herself in utter command of her fate.

  Now she realized just how foolish she had been.

  No one controlled fate, destiny, or . . . the treachery of a willful heart.

  Not even the new, daring, utterly reckless Miss Kate Frazer.

  Which only made it more imperative that she flee from Lord Calfield, she acknowledged with a covert glance at the man walking silently at her side.

  Her breath seemed to be caught in a relentless vise as she recalled how, earlier that morning, he had solicitously ensured that she was warm enough in the carriage and provided her with the apple tarts he had ordered fr
om the kitchen. He had even commanded the driver to halt at a small cottage so that he could ease his mind that Billie had not experienced any ill effects from his adventure.

  There had been a poignant sweetness in his patience with the impish lad, and a true graciousness in his ability to smooth over Billie’s parents’ awkward gratitude.

  He was a gentleman that any maiden would be proud to call husband.

  For a brief, crazed moment as they had left the cottage, she had wondered why she continued to battle his offer of marriage. She enjoyed his company, she admired his intelligence, and after their kiss, she could not deny that she desperately longed for his touch.

  Why not return to Kent as he requested?

  Would marriage to a gentleman she considered a friend and potential lover not be preferable to the danger she courted by remaining in London? Her fantasy of glorious independence could not last forever.

  Then panic had set in.

  Marriage to Luce would be considerably different from sharing a few days of adventure. Once she signed the license, he would be in utter command of her life and her fortune. She would once again be under the control of a male who would possess the right to demand her absolute obedience.

  What if his seeming indulgence was no more than the desperation of a man in need of her dowry? a warning voice had whispered.

  There was every possibility that once he had her in his power he would readily return to his own interests. Interests that would keep him in London and perhaps even traveling about the world. While she would once again be buried in the country with the added burden of his mother and sisters keeping a judging eye upon her every movement.

  Gads, how could she take the risk?

  It would shatter her heart.

  No. There must be some means of winning her independence. A means that did not depend upon risking her future with Lord Calfield.

  All very sensible. Unfortunately, it did not keep her from experiencing an aching pain that clutched at the center of her chest.

  Lost in her thoughts, Kate barely noted her surroundings. It was not until Luce reached out to grasp her arm that she realized they had arrived at the door to his room.