03 - The Wicked Lady

by Brenda Jernigan

  "I think you're smarter than that," he remarked casually. "Just a warning. If you try anything, one of my men will be outside the door to deal with you, that is if I don't get to you first."

  "I ain't afraid of ye." Kristen lifted her chin, hoping he didn't see the tremble that showed she was lying.

  He reached over, took her chin, then brought her face so close to his that she could feel his breath on her cheek. For a slight moment, she thought he was going to kiss her. It was impossible to tear her gaze from him. He rubbed his thumb back and forth across her chin. "Well, you should be afraid, Kristen."

  At that very moment she wanted to be kissed, something that had never occurred in her young eighteen years. She gazed into his eyes. She could see how intense he was, and she wondered if he had a wife and children. His eyes were not one color, but instead a mixture of blue-green with just a touch of brown specks in the middle. As they stood staring at each other, she could see how they darkened to a deep royal blue, and she wondered what he was contemplating.

  Kristen couldn't read his eyes, so he must be good at keeping his emotions and thoughts to himself. His warning hadn't left her, though. She was no fool. She wouldn't push this man too far, and she'd pray he'd let her go. "I need tae wash my hands before working on ye shoulder."

  His eyes glittered with a reckless energy. He seemed a little hesitant to let her go, but he did, and she felt a stab of disappointment.

  Gathering her wits, she found a metal basin and pitcher on a nearby stand. She poured water into the basin, then scrubbed her hands good with lye soap.

  When she came back to him she said, "I need tae remove yer shirt so I can clean the wound."

  She watched as he unbuttoned the white billowing shirt. He winced as he tried to remove the material off the damaged arm.

  "Here, let me." Kristen gently moved her hand down his arm, and a fine arm it was, too. He was very muscular, proving he'd done a bit of hard work. She loosened the material from the dried blood, not realizing she was rubbing her bust across his chest as she did so. Hearing his quick intake of breath, she looked sharply at him and asked, "Ye all right?"

  "I think so." He scowled and his eyes darkened.

  He didn't look all right, and he sounded a wee bit funny, but since he was quieter, she ignored him. With the shirt removed she examined the nasty hole. She'd gotten used to taking care of unfortunates on the streets, so she was no longer squeamish. They all came to her with their bumps and bruises, but working on this one was very different. Her gaze went to the man's chest, and she breathed in the word "magnificent." Somehow she managed to keep a straight face. "Appears the bullet went straight through the meaty part of ye arm," she commented as she placed the dampened cloth on his wound.

  He flinched.

  "Sorry," she murmured, not liking the way he stared at her. It was as if he wanted to know all about her, yet she knew that was absurd. "I don't know yer full name," she realized out loud.

  "Trevor Claremont." He paused. "And yours is Kristen--?"

  "Johnstone."

  "That figures," he said and glowered.

  "And what do ye mean by that?" She put her hands on her hips.

  "I've no use for the Johnstones."

  "Appears ye do at the moment," she answered tartly and resumed her nursing. She couldn't help smiling at his frowning face.

  "My da died a long time ago, so ye canna have known him." Gently, she cleaned his shoulder. Then she slid the box over and took some white salve and started applying it to the wound. His skin was warm, and his fragrance hadn't escaped her notice either. He smelled like the wind and the sea. A fresh scent she couldn't remember smelling on a man before.

  She barely touched him, but each time she did, his muscles tightened. She wondered why her touch affected him so when she couldn't possibly be hurting him. This man was a puzzle to her. He seemed gentry, yet he was different. The dandies, as she liked to call them, were such an indifferent lot who looked down their noses when they saw the likes of her.

  She hadn't always been on the street. She had a vague memory of growing up in a big house, but the memory had dimmed so much over the years, that she wasn't sure if her memory was genuine or a dream. She couldn't remember her real father, but sometimes in the wee hours of the morning she could hear his Scottish burr. "Kristen, my girl, yer goin' to be a real beauty someday." He would be disappointed that his prediction hadn't come true. When Kristen had questioned her mother about her da and what their life had been, she'd only received a blank look. The answer was always the same. "Why dredge up the past? This is your life now. Only you can make the best of it." Then two years ago, her mother had died of consumption, leaving Kristen with her stepfather and a three-year-old brother.

  "Something tells me you've slipped away from me," Trevor whispered, wondering what a Johnstone tasted like.

  Kristen realized she'd finished his bandage, but she hadn't moved from between his legs. She'd been staring at his chest, lost in her thoughts. Now she looked up at him and saw that his expression had softened for the first time. "I--I think I've finished."

  "Have you?" Trevor reached out and traced his finger lazily along her jaw, marveling at how smooth her skin felt. He had no idea why he was feeling this odd attraction to the girl, but somehow he needed to touch her and, for just a moment, chase away the sadness he'd seen in her face. He found himself wanting her. He noted she hadn't jerked away from him. His hand slipped to the nape of her neck, and her silky hair seemed to wrap around his fingers while he pulled her ever so slowly to him.

  Just one little kiss . . . that's all he wanted. Then he'd be satisfied and could send her on her way. Her lips were soft and wet as he moved his mouth over hers. It was a featherlike kiss and then it was over.

  " 'Twas nice." Her eyes were wide and clear, staring at him with unblinking innocence.

  "Nice?" Trevor drew his brows together. Since when did a woman describe his kiss as merely nice. "Nice?" he repeated.

  "I thought p’haps there would be more."

  "Don't tell me you've never been kissed before."

  "Nay, I have not."

  "Then, perhaps, we should try again."

  "What for?"Trevor couldn't help but chuckle. "I would hate to leave you disappointed. There is a little more to a kiss than I've shown you."

  Kristen had always wondered what a kiss would be like. Would it be magical? She sure hadn't felt any magic yet and, seeing as this man's teeth were not rotten like most of the lads she knew, she didn't see any harm in satisfying her curiosity. " 'Tis more, ye say?"

  His arms went around her, and he pressed her to him till she was molded to his body. Again his lips touched hers, softly at first, but this time the kiss was different and all her senses sprang to life as his mouth moved over hers. His tongue touched her lips, and she jerked.

  "Trust me," he whispered and pulled her back into his embrace.

  He touched her lips again, and she hesitantly opened her mouth to find a heaven she didn't know existed. Her arms slid up his chest and curved around his neck while she innocently pressed her breasts against his chest. Trevor's mouth was insistent, exploring, tasting, and a desire for something more burned within her.

  Kristen trembled.

  Trevor groaned.

  Trevor's desire soared to red hot. She felt so good in his arms, and he sensed a passion lay buried deep within her. He ached inside. He was glad she wasn't experienced, or they would be in his bed in two seconds. Then it dawned on him what he was doing. He'd never been a seducer in his life. His women had always been experienced and knew the rules. He took her by the arms and reluctantly moved her back.

  The sudden shock from heaven to reality stunned Kristen for a moment. He seemed to be waiting for her to say something, so she said, " 'Twas better."

  "I'm glad I could be your first teacher."

  "I sense there is still more."

  He chuckled and said. "There is, but that lesson would be better off taught at a later time. M
aybe even by another man." As soon as he said it, he frowned at the picture of the girl in another man's arms.

  "Now the question is what to do with you. I could turn you over to the constable or let you go." He chuckled. "Then I suppose you would just pick someone else's pocket."

  "Ye should let me go," she answered solemnly.

  Trevor stood and went over to a drawer. He pulled out another shirt and slipped it on. "When was the last time you ate?"

  "Ye asked that before," she challenged. "Why do ye care?"

  He recognized the defiance was back in her voice. Turning, he stared at her for a moment. "I wish to God I knew."

  "I don't need yer charity. I've been doing the best I can for the last few months."

  Trevor looked at her skinny arms. He'd wager she'd not been eating very well. "You don't have any family?"

  She put the bandages back in the bag. "My mother died two years back, and I ran away from my stepfather."

  Trevor rubbed his chin. "I see."

  Kristen eased toward the door. "I'll just be collecting my brother, and we'll be out of yer hair."

  "I didn't say I was going to let you go."

  His brisk voice stopped her, and Kristen's breath caught. "Why not? I've fixed yer arm and ye got yer coins back."

  "Maybe I want more." Trevor realized he wasn't too sure what he was thinking about doing was sane, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. It was possible he had the answer for one of his previous problems in this very room. "If I turn you over to the authorities, you could rot in jail for a long time."

  "Aye." She nodded gravely and stared at him through wide, emerald eyes.

  Trevor knew he had to be insane, but he went on, "What if I offered you a . . ." he searched for the right word. " A situation?"

  "What kind of situation?"

  "I have a small predicament that you can help me with, and in payment I won't turn you over to the authorities." He knew he was about to make a rash decision. Something he normally didn't do, but he could see the answer to his problem right before him. He could solve everything quickly and with very little effort on his part.

  "I can help ye?" Kristen started laughing. "I can barely help myself."

  "I'm serious, Kristen. Please sit down." He waited until he had her attention again. "You see, my grandmere has decided it's time for me to marry and produce an heir. I wouldn't consider the thought, but she's been ill. Refusing her, I fear, might send her to an early grave. However, I don't care to attend every function the ton has to offer and fend off all the females looking for a rich husband."

  "So what does that have tae do with me?"

  "If you agree to be my wife, Kristen, I won't have to be bothered with looking for one. I'll have a wife, and you'll be free to do what you like. As long as I approve, of course. And I'll have my freedom, too."

  "Are ye crazy, man? There is no way I could possibly fit into yer life."

  "I agree you will need a little polishing and ..." He wrinkled his nose. "Definitely some new clothes." He leaned closer. "But I think you're smart, Kristen. You'll learn quickly. What do you have to lose?"

  Kristen shook her head, her eyes suddenly sad. "Ye should only marry for love.""Don't be foolish. How many loving marriages have you seen?"

  "Tae be truthful, none. But I do believe love is out there someplace."

  He lifted her chin. "Well, maybe we'll find it. Stranger things have happened." He traced her soft skin with his thumb.

  "Yer joking me?"

  "No, Kristen. I'm serious. This is to be a business arrangement. It will get you off the streets and hopefully into a better life."

  "I don't know." She shook her head again. This whole thing seemed like a wildly spinning dream. " 'Tis tae fast. I need tae think."

  "What is there to think about?" Her cheeks flushed with her stubborn refusal, Trevor pressed on. "You should think of your brother, if no one else. What will happen to him if he stays on the street? He doesn't have that hardness about him now, but he will." Trevor looked her straight in the eyes, sensing the advantage. "Do you want him begging and stealing for the rest of his life? And what will happen to you? The next person whose pocket you pick might not let you off so easily. You'll end up in prison or as someone's whore."

  Kristen felt as though she'd been slapped, but he was right. "What you say is true." A sadness entered her eyes. "But I'll be your whore, so there's little difference."

  Trevor took her by the arms and pulled her to her feet, looking at her steadily. "No, Kristen. You'll be my wife, and I will not touch you unless you want it also. So you have nothing to lose."

  Nothing to lose. She frowned. She would be losing her freedom. However, her life hadn't been that wonderful in the past. And Claremont did say he wouldn't touch her unless she agreed. There was also Hagan . . . "Then I guess I agree. But life willna be easy."

  "I've no doubt." He chuckled. "There is one thing you must promise me."

  "And that being?"

  "That you'll quit your thieving ways."

  "I don't know about that one." She shook her head. The man was daft.

  "That's part of the deal, Kristen. I'll have your promise now."

  She hesitated. "Ye have my promise that I won't steal no more." She crossed her fingers behind her back, knowing she didn't mean a word of it. "I guess this means ye'll be wanting yer change purse back?"

  Trevor patted his pocket. "How in the world did you do that?"

  " 'Tis a secret." She smiled, knowing there was something special about this man. Something she liked.

  "You're one wicked lady, Kristen Johnstone.""Aye, that I am, Trevor Claremont."

  Chapter Two

  Something tickled Kristen's nose.

  She opened her eyes to find an eyelet ruffle on her pillowcase. Startled, she realized she couldn't remember having a pillow, much less a fancy case. She bolted straight up in bed, having no earthly idea where she was, but feeling certain it wasn't jail. 'Cause if it was jail, 'twas a lot nicer than where she'd been living these last three years. "Think, Kristen. What happened to ye, girl?"

  She shut her eyes, squeezing them tight as she thought back to yesterday. She remembered a man . . . a shooting . . . a capture. Then she recalled the captain of the ship. She'd made a deal with him so she wouldn't go to jail, but then she'd fallen asleep after they had eaten, and she didn't remember anything at all after that. Had she been drugged or was she just exhausted?

  Her brother!

  "Hagan!" Kristen shouted. No answer.

  Frantic, she tried to crush the trepidation crawling over her as she listened for an answering call. She'd kill the man if he hurt her brother. When she didn't receive an immediate answer she threw back the covers and sprang out of bed. That's when she realized she had on a soft cotton night gown. One she didn't remember putting on herself.

  "Hagan!"

  "Kristen, in here." She heard a small voice from the other side of a door located near the far end of the bedroom. She scurried across the floor, barely feeling the smooth surface beneath her feet. Grasping the brass knob, she examined the finely polished metal, thinking what a price she could get for it on the streets.

  She shook her head and pulled the door open. Kristen looked inside, spotting her brother in a huge bed surrounded by a mountain of covers. "Hagan, are ye all right?"

  "Sure. But where are we?" He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands. "Look at all the pillows." He patted one of the four fluffy pillows around him. "This bed sure is comfortable."

  "Thank goodness ye're safe." She hugged her brother. "I dinna know where we are, but I'll find out." She looked around her. " 'Tis nice, wherever we are."

  "Are you really going to marry the captain like you said?"

  "Aye." She nodded her head. "And do ye approve?"

  "Sure. He's fun once you get over being scared of him." Hagan crawled out from under the blankets, then sat back on his heels. "Does this mean we don't have to live at our place anymore and hide from father?"
>
  Kristen nodded. "That it does. Wasn't much of a home anyway. Now ye'll have a home or a ship. I think it will be better."

  "I'm still a little sleepy," Hagan murmured, yawning and stretching his arms over his head.

  A knock sounded on the door, and Kristen called, "Who is it?"

  A young woman with short black hair entered the room. "Breakfast will be served in half-an-hour, mum."

  "Where are we?" Kristen realized the question sounded stupid. How many people woke up not knowing where they were? But, she couldn't figure out any other way to find out except ask.

  "You are staying at His Grace's town house."

  "His Grace?" Kristen frowned. "And who is His Grace?"

  "Why everyone knows him, mum. He's very important." The maid's face turned red. He's the one what brought you home last night. I really shouldn't say more, but I remember you and your brother were asleep when he carried you upstairs. His Grace is the Duke of Chatsworth."

  "Duke?"

  "I've said way too much, mum." She bobbed her white-capped head. "You'll have to ask His Grace the rest of your questions." With that she shut the door.

  "What's a Duke?" Hagan asked.

  " 'Tis someone of great importance, so I've heard. Never met one close up before," Kristen mumbled while her mind whirled with explanations. She couldn't figure out how or why she was here . . . wherever here was. She'd made a deal with the sea captain, or so she'd thought. Maybe the man had second thoughts and sold her.

  "Get dressed, Hagan. We'll find our answers downstairs! And mind ye, if I say run, ye don't stop tae ask questions."

  "We're not going to have to leave, are we?"

  "I'm not tae sure." She had a nauseating feeling in the bottom of her stomach. "Now get dressed." She went back to her room and noticed the beautiful four-poster bed for the first time. She couldn't remember when she'd slept so well or in a real bed.

  After hurrying to splash water on her face, she pinched her cheeks. Then she retrieved the only garment she had, praying her fingers wouldn't poke through the thin material.