by Wendy Vella
His eyes went to the bed and found it empty. He searched the room then and found her bags gone. “Stupid, idiotic, bloody woman!” He roared these words so loudly that in seconds, Merlin was pounding at his door. In two strides, he had it opened. “Miss Belmont appears to have taken the notion to continue this journey on her own. Get the horses ready to leave at once.”
Simon grabbed his clothes and pulled them on. Reaching for his gun, he noted it was gone and raised his eyes to the roof. Picking up his luggage, he then left the room, slamming the door so loudly, it shook the walls.
“Where is my wife?” Simon found the proprietor in the kitchen with a woman who was presumably his own wife. Both looked at him in wide-eyed terror as he stormed in. “Answer the bloody question, or last night’s mess will seem like a tea party compared to what I will do to this place.”
“Our son drove her in his cart to catch the stage to Liverpool, my lord.”
“In a cart!” Simon cursed again, this time dredging up a few words he normally used only when alone. “And did you not think letting a young woman leave here with only one man for company would be dangerous?”
“Henry knows the shortcuts, my lord. People rarely travel those roads.”
“How much did she pay you?”
The proprietor edged closer to his wife, bloody coward that he was. “A great deal, my lord.”
Simon had never wanted to hit someone more than he did right now. However, his knuckles were raw and his body ached. Furthermore, he needed to get to Claire before she fell into more trouble. “How long ago did she leave?” The words were snapped out at as quickly as a bullet fired from a gun.
“Last night–not long after you retired, my lord.”
But she was in a cart that would travel much slower than he could, Simon calculated. “Draw me a map with the route they took, and be quick about it.”
“Can’t say as I can write or draw, my lord,” the man said, swallowing.
Gritting his teeth, Simon exhaled slowly. “Tell me the roads he took, then.”
The man stuttered out several words, one on top of the other, which Simon tried and failed to decipher, and just as he was about to wrap his fingers around his neck, the wife elbowed the fool aside and told him in a clear voice what he wanted to know. Without another word, Simon turned on his heel and stalked away.
His carriage was waiting, and he retold the directions to his drivers, both of whom had colorful bruises to match his. “They’re in a cart, so we should catch them before they reach their destination, if not just as they arrive. His men merely nodded, obviously noting the look of fury burning behind his eyes. “Go as fast as you can, Merlin. I fear for her safety if left alone too long.”
“We’ll get to her before trouble strikes, my lord.”
Nodding, Simon felt a small grain of reassurance from his stoic coachman’s words. Climbing inside, he then prayed.
They traveled roads that were not well used, so the journey was not a comfortable one for a man whose body was not in good form. His ribs hurt. His face ached, and when they hit a rut and he gripped the strap above his head to steady himself, his knuckles protested furiously.
“I will shake you, Claire Belmont, until your teeth rattle. Then I will sit you across from me and lecture you for hours,” he muttered. Christ, was she safe? Had she already fallen on trouble?
Closing his eyes, he rested his aching head on the back of the seat while bracing his boots on the one opposite. He could see her as she had looked last night, standing on that table, his gun braced in her hands and that ferocious look on her flushed face. She’d been ready to take them all on, every man in the room, and each one, Simon was sure, had envied him at that moment. She’d stood there with her pretty dress on and demanded every man but the three that belonged to her leave.
“God, Claire, where are you?” Pulling the curtain aside, he searched the paddocks and trees as if she would suddenly appear. Fear gnawed at his insides, and that made his anger climb.
She was so much more than he’d ever believed her to be. She was loyal, and he now knew would do what it took to protect those she felt needed protection. Not that he had ever doubted her, but still, at that moment when he’d seen her standing on that table ready to fight for him, through his horror, he had felt a large, warm weight settle in his chest. She’d been there for him and his men, and there were not many people in Simon’s life who would have taken such a risk to secure his safety.
She’d tended his cuts and bruises and plied him with spirits, and he’d then fallen asleep, and the little witch had left him. Had she thought he would wake and see her gone and just shrug? Simply make his way back to London and let her continue alone?
Foolish woman.
Simon didn’t know how long they had been traveling before he felt the carriage slow to a stop. He had the door open and was outside in seconds.
“The cart, my lord. I think that’s it.”
Following Ben’s hand, he saw they had entered a small village, and coming down the main street was a cart being driven by a young boy.
“Why do you think that’s it, Ben? Surely, there is more than one cart in this village.”
“I saw that horse in the stall next to ours yesterday, my lord.”
“Good enough,” Simon said. “Ben, you get food for all of us, and Merlin, you take care of the horses. I will meet you at that stable.” He pointed to a large building that had horses and carriage milling about in front of it.
Simon walked across the street towards the cart, which had to stop or go around him. It stopped. “Where is the woman you brought here?”
The boy looked at him silently for several seconds.
“I mean her no harm, Boy.”
He nodded then and lifted his hand, pointing to a large, two-storied establishment further down the road.
“Has the stage been through today?”
“No, my lord. I’ve been here many hours and it has not arrived yet.”
Nodding, Simon stepped to the side, then made his way to the establishment called The Goat. He entered and made his way slowly from room to room, of which there were many. She was in the last. Relief nearly buckled his knees as he saw her sitting alone in the corner with her bags at her feet. She wore a black bonnet and cape, presumably the same ones he’d seen her in that day in the lane. Around her, people chatted and laughed while she slept. Her head rested on the back of the seat, hands neatly folded in her lap. Unlike last night, when she had appeared fire and brimstone, she now looked small and vulnerable again. He walked across the room, nodding to people as they moved out of his way. He suspected this was due to his battered face and ferocious scowl. Reaching her, Simon had an urge to haul her into his arms and hold her. However he was still furious, so he nudged her shoulder with his hand instead.
She woke suddenly, sitting upright in the chair, eyes wide and unfocused as she looked up at him. Blinking several times, she then looked around the room, as if to remind herself where she was, and then back at him.
“Simon.” One word but it sounded wrenched from deep inside her.
“Follow me outside, Claire. If you don’t, I will throw you over my shoulder and make a scene bigger than any you have ever witnessed.” Simon picked up her luggage and walked towards the door instead of following his impulse and scooping her into his arms. He knew she followed, because he heard her apologizing as she passed people.
“Simon, please…”
He ignored her, instead making his way outside and then starting back down the road towards where his carriage awaited. She surprised him by cursing, but still he did not stop. Walking into the stables, he located his carriage. “Load these, please, Merlin.” Simon handed Claire’s luggage to him and then opened the carriage door.
“Why won’t you at least listen to me, Simon?”
She now stood beside him, looking up at him from under the brim of that ugly black bonnet. Her brown eyes were wary, and he knew she was scared, yet she didn’t back dow
n.
“Get in,” Simon said, pointing inside the carriage.
“No.”
He wouldn’t laugh. He was too angry for that, even if she looked delectable defying him. “Claire, the pain in my body is not making me amiable. Therefore it would be in your best interests to do as I say and do it quickly.”
“It is best I go alone, Simon. Surely after last night you can see that? This is my problem, not yours.”
“For the love of god,” he muttered, picking her up. He stepped up into the carriage and threw her on the seat with perhaps a bit more force than necessary. Sitting near the door, he slammed it shut, trapping her inside. “I’ve told you I want to come with you, I’ve told you it is my choice, and still you take the foolish notion into your head to flee in the middle of the night, thus, in your eyes, protecting me.”
“It was for the best,” she said defiantly, crossing her arms.
“For whom? Did you think I would wake to find you gone and think, well that’s that, then. Claire’s gone–I shall now return to London and enjoy the season?” Simon’s voice was a furious growl as he glared at her. “You thought I wouldn’t worry what had become of you? That I would not wonder if you’d made it to Liverpool to collect the child? And what if trouble had befallen you? Who would have known where you were? Certainly not your family, as they believe you are safely nestled at Stratton with your dearest friend.”
His words made the color leech from her face.
“Think with your head, Claire. Think rationally before doing anything else rash, I beg of you.”
Tears fell silently down her cheeks as she looked at him. “I don’t want you hurt anymore, Simon. I couldn’t bear it. I thought if I reached Liverpool and collected the child, I could be back in London before you caught up with me.”
“Do you know what would hurt me more than these?” he asked, lifting a hand to the bruises on his face.
“No.” Her voice was husky as she wiped away tears with her gloves.
“Hearing that some man had hurt you, or that you were lost and alone with no one to turn to. Those things would hurt more than any pain a fist could cause.”
She pressed her hands into her eyes to try to stem the flow of tears.
“I have been cold with fear since I woke. Had the proprietor’s wife not been beside him this morning when I confronted him, I would have, in all likelihood, killed him for letting you leave alone.”
“You sh-should not be involved in this, Simon.”
He blew out a loud sigh that made his ribs ache.
“I am involved, Claire. Why can’t you see that?”
She started to say something, but instead, her words turned into a sob.
“I’m not leaving you. I will see you and the child safely back to London and it would be in your best interests to accept that,” Simon said.
She wanted to talk, but every time she tried, another sob came out.
“Come here, Claire.” Her tears were undoing him, causing his own eyes to itch. “Please,” he added, holding out his arms to her. Suddenly, she flew at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding him close as she wept. And he, for the first time since she’d left him, felt peace. Nestling her into his body, they sat that way until Ben knocked on the door. Only then did he put her on the seat beside him. Opening the door, he took the food, and soon the carriage was once again on the road to Liverpool.
“Remove that offensive coat and bonnet, Claire. You look like you’re in mourning,” Simon said as he bit into a pie, the warm meat and gravy doing admirable things to restore his spirits.
She was too tired to fight him, so she first took off her gloves, then the bonnet, and finally, the cloak.
“Eat this now, and then you can sleep.”
Taking the pie, she looked at him. “Are you finished ordering me about?”
“No.” Simon didn’t smile as she rolled her eyes.
They ate in silence, then he grabbed her cape and bundled it into a pillow before placing it behind his head. Easing back against it, he let out a relieved sigh. “At least I have found a use for it.” She tried to resist as he reached for her, but Simon simply wrapped both arms around her and settled her against his chest, where he knew she fit perfectly.
“Henry sang to me last night,” she said when her head rested under his chin.
“Who’s Henry?” Simon pulled the ribbon from her plait, and then he then slowly unraveled it.
“The innkeeper’s son. He had the voice of an angel.”
Her words were sounding slurred now, as if she had been overindulging, and he knew in seconds, she would be asleep. “Let’s hope he has his mother’s brains, as well.”
She snuffled into his chest. “It took me ages to plait that.”
“I’ll re-plait it. Now sleep, Claire.”
“Will you sing to me, Simon?”
“No.”
She gave a tired sigh and placed one hand over his heart. Minutes later, she was asleep. Simon smoothed her hair out and then, kissing the top her head, he joined her.
That night was spent at another inn. This one was very quiet, and the proprietor was happy to accommodate all of Simon’s needs. Simon had a bath ordered for Claire and left the room to give her some privacy, although the maid had placed a screen around it. When he opened the door a fair bit later, he felt his heart sink. The room was empty. “Claire!”
He heard splashing and gasping from behind the screen. Relieved, he pressed a hand to his chest, where it thudded uncomfortably.
“I fell asleep, Simon.”
“You sound surprised by that,” he said, making his way to a chair. He sat down and began pulling off his boots. He’d thought she’d run from him again.
“I… Yes, I am. I have never fallen asleep anywhere during the day.” He heard the wonder in her voice. “Of course, I cannot vouch for my infant years.”
“Perhaps after a few nights’ sleep, your body and mind have begun to enjoy the state of slumber, and a habit is forming.”
He could hear the sound of her rising and imagined the water running over her lush curves.
“Please ask the maid to bring you some hot water, Simon. I fear this is quite cold now.”
Glad to leave the room with his heated thoughts, he did as she asked, only to return to find her sitting in her nightdress on the edge of the bed.
“Your face is a myriad of colors now, Simon. Is it painful?” She was attempting to brush her hair, which fell in damp coils to her waist. God, she looked like heaven, sitting there in that prim white nightdress.
“Simon?”
“Uh…yes, much better now, thank you.”
The maids arrived and refilled the tub. Relieved, he slipped behind the screen to undress. Then he stepped into the water and began to scrub himself thoroughly, using a cloth. His skin was nearly raw by the time he stepped out, and his bruises ached, but he was no longer aroused.
“You take the bed, Claire. I will lay a blanket on the floor.”
“But your body is still sore. Surely you would be better on the bed.”
“I’m not letting you sleep on the floor, Claire.” Rubbing the drying cloth over his head and body, Simon then pulled on his breeches and stepped out from behind the screen.
“Then we will share a bed once more, Simon. I know you are a gentleman…for the most,” she added, blushing.
He watched her rise from the bed and move to the side, where she pulled back the covers and climbed in. Simon wasn’t sure he could do the same. He knew what she felt like in his arms now, and that had only made him want more. Part of him had always felt an attraction for Claire Belmont, but now it was a fire in his blood. Could he sleep next to her without reaching for her?
“If you sleep on the floor,” she continued, “then we shall both have no sleep.”
“How so, when you have the bed,” Simon said, moving to the opposite side. He then doused the lamp and pulled back the covers. He could do this. He was a grown man who had control over hi
s passions.
“I will worry about you, and that will keep me awake.”
He settled himself and then turned onto his side to face her. However, she was facing the wall. “So this gesture of yours is not actually because you fear for my comfort–it is because you fear for your own?”
She snuffled. “Oh dear. It seems I have been found out.”
He smiled into the dark and thought that perhaps he could do this if it meant she would sleep. It was a nice feeling that she was relaxed enough in his company now to sleep, especially considering what they had just endured.
“Good night, Simon.”
“Good night, Claire.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Simon woke to an elbow in his already sore ribs. Struggling through the waves of sleep, he tried to establish what had happened.
“You should support me!”
“What?” Turning on his side, he blinked several times to clear his eyes.
“How can you do this, Mathew?”
Lifting up on one elbow, Simon looked down at Claire. In the moonlight, he could see she was lying on her back, body rigid, arms waving around above her head. She still slept but was giving her brother a piece of her mind while she did so.
“Be there for the child, if not for me. You were never there for me. So many long, dark, and lonely nights.”
“It’s all right, Claire. It’s just a dream. Come on, wake up now.” Simon cupped her cheek, turning her to face him.
