Fourteen
By the time Tom and Bianca arrived back at the inn, Victoria and Fin stood waiting in the inn yard, next to an unmarked carriage, with grim looks on their faces. The sun cast its last meager rays across the darkening sky as dusk settled in around them. Tom was grateful they’d be able to travel under the cloak of darkness.
He jumped from the horse first and then pulled Bianca down after him. She hadn’t said a word the entire ride. Although they’d been riding as if Satan himself were at their heels, so it didn’t open the door for much conversation. Still, he couldn’t help but feel that this would go down as one of the worst moments of her life. It was obvious what they were celebrating when he arrived at the camp. Though it had brought up unwanted feelings of jealousy within him, the fact that he had to tear her away also riddled him with guilt.
But there wasn’t time to think about any of that. They had to go, run, as fast as they possibly could, if they wished to marry before Tisbury caught up to them. If they didn’t, Tom would have no right to her—no right to keep her and protect her from the irrational man.
Victoria ran to them and pulled Bianca into her embrace. “Thank God he found you,” she said, and then she immediately disposed of the pleasantries and set to business. “I’ve packed you two of my gowns to wear on your journey. It isn’t much, but you can’t very well get married in that.”
Bianca opened her mouth to protest, but Victoria wouldn’t let her get a word in edgeways.
She turned her focus to Tom. “Your bags are packed and loaded onto the carriage. There’s a ship leaving Portsmouth first thing in the morning. We’ve sent a messenger ahead on horseback—he’ll secure your passage. If you travel through the night, you’ll make it.”
“Why a ship?” Tom asked. “I have the special license. I can marry her anywhere.”
She shook her head, sending her dark curls into a frenzy. “The risk of Tisbury finding you before you find a vicar is too high. This way, you’ll be out to sea by dawn tomorrow. You can marry once you arrive on land.”
Tom looked to Bianca. She’d lost all color in her cheeks and her mouth opened and closed like a guppy. Clearly, this was not part of her plan, and Tom couldn’t help but feel sorry for her.
On the other hand, the idea of being married to her had an altogether different affect on him.
“We don’t know how much time you have,” Fin said quietly. “You need to go. Now.”
Fin opened the door to the carriage and Tom gestured for Bianca to go first. She looked from him to the carriage. When she faced him a moment later, there were tears brimming at the edges of her eyes.
“Where are we going?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
Tom looked to his sister, who said simply, “The Caribbean.”
The ship could have been to anywhere—India, America, Africa—but the news that it was headed to the islands…well, all Tom could think was, I’m going home.
“Please,” Bianca said. “There must be another way. Somewhere else we can go where he won’t find us.”
“My sister is right. This is the only way,” Tom replied. He refrained from adding that had she said yes when he asked days ago, they’d be happily married by now, already ensconced at the estate.
Seeing the conflict and the pain in her eyes drove him toward her. He took her by the shoulders and made her look at him. She did, and it nearly tore him in two.
“I’m so sorry, Bianca,” he said, and he meant it. Despite his attraction to her, his desire for her, he didn’t want to rip her away from the man she truly loved. He didn’t want to be the one to inflict this kind of pain on her. “But we have to go. Now. It’s either me or Tisbury.”
He gave her a half smile and shrug. Hopefully she would choose him over Tisbury, for God’s sake.
She closed her eyes and nodded her head as a small tear trickled down her cheek. With that, Tom ushered her to the carriage where Fin was waiting to help her up, then followed her inside.
Victoria ran to the small window. She was crying too, and Tom understood why. “Be safe,” was all she said, though, as the carriage pulled out of the inn yard and onto the road toward Portsmouth.
~*~
Bianca sat quietly in the carriage as they started out on their journey. She stared out the window at the setting sun. It was nearly gone now, and the air was turning chilly. She wished to be near the warmth of the gypsy campfire, wrapped in Emil’s arms.
Oh, God. Emil. Had Tisbury found the camp? Would he leave them be now that she was nowhere to be found?
She closed her eyes and prayed fervently. She actually couldn’t remember the last time she’d prayed, but she thought this was probably as good a time as any to start.
Her thoughts turned to her future, which it seemed would be in the Caribbean now. At least for a while. A few days ago, when she’d met Tom, that had seemed so appealing. But she knew her heart was with Emil. Paradise was wherever he was.
But it didn’t matter anymore. She might never see Emil again, and while admitting that made it feel as if someone were ripping her insides to pieces, she prayed that her leaving would insure the safety of him and his tribe. That was the only thing getting her through and keeping her from dissolving into the deepest of despair.
“You were going to marry him.”
Bianca looked up at Tom, surprised that he’d surmised as much in the few moments he’d been at the camp.
She nodded. “We were celebrating our engagement tonight.” She choked slightly on the words, on the memory, on what would never be. “He was willing to…” She shook her head. What did it matter what he was willing to do, to give up? Neither of them had to worry about any of that anymore. Maybe it was for the best. Maybe they both would have been unhappy and resentful somewhere down the road.
In her heart she didn’t believe that they would, but it made her feel just slightly better to tell herself that.
“For what it’s worth,” Tom said, “I truly am sorry.”
Bianca met his tender green eyes. “I know you are. But it’s not your fault. I’m the one who should be sorry. I’m the one who ran away, who caused all this havoc. I could have just married Tisbury and lived with my fate, like so many others have.”
“Don’t say that.”
The intensity in Tom’s eyes, his set jaw, told her he didn’t like her line of thinking.
“Why not?” she demanded, frustration and anger building inside of her. “Now not only will I be married to someone I don’t love, but I’ll be halfway around the world from my family. Who knows if I’ll ever see my sisters again, my parents? How many lives have I ruined now—other than my own, of course—with my selfishness.”
“The man is a brute, and he doesn’t deserve you,” Tom nearly shouted back, causing Bianca to gape in shock.
“You hardly know me, Tom,” she said, softening her tone and offering a small smile. “How do you know I’m not a complete shrew?”
Thankfully, that lightened the mood a bit. Tom gave a little chuckle and then leaned back against the squabs again.
“I may not know you well, but…”
The way he looked at her—the intensity, the adoration—made her heart race and her skin flush. But flattery couldn’t replace the all-consuming love she held for her gypsy.
“Tom, don’t,” she begged.
He shook his head. “I’m sorry—I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I know you need time after all that’s happened, and I’m willing to give it to you. I just want you to know—to understand—that I am not doing this merely out of obligation or pity. I’m doing it because I want to.”
Those words were simple: Because I want to. But they held a wealth of meaning. Somehow, he cared for her. It wasn’t love. That would be impossible with how little time they’d spent together, how little they knew of each other. But it was a lovely promise that gave her hope. Paradise might not be so bad after all.
Fifteen
At some point during the long, overnigh
t ride to Portsmouth, Tom had convinced Bianca to use his lap as a pillow. Several very uncomfortable hours later, he admitted to himself what a horrible idea that had been. Every time she stirred or mewed in her sleep, even when she snored softly, it reminded him of her proximity to his manhood and thereby prompted it to action. Though there was no action to be had, of course. Not yet, anyway. Bianca’s heart belonged to another, and Tom would be damned if he took advantage of her vulnerability. She would regret it and then she’d hate him forever.
No, this was a delicate situation. One he couldn’t act upon until they were at least married, if even then. They’d be married soon enough, but that alone wouldn’t make her forget her gypsy. He would just have to be patient. She’d come around eventually, wouldn’t she? Surely the romantic moonlit nights on the Jamaican shores would trigger her more amorous side.
Tom could only hope.
It was still dark outside when the carriage finally drew to a stop. Tom peeked out the window to see they were near the dockyard. The full moon cast shadows along the wharves. Crates and boxes lined the docks, ready to be loaded onto ships. Not far in the distance, a vessel loomed in the mist, swaying in the shallow waters. The ship that would carry him home.
He gently shook Bianca, who was clearly reluctant to awaken. But when she rolled over and his hardness pressed into the back of her head, she sat up with a start. Her cheeks burned a bright red, and so did Tom’s. Should he apologize? Perhaps not, it might only embarrass both of them further. Best to pretend nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
He cleared his throat. “We’re here.”
Bianca nodded, but said nothing.
“Are you hungry?” he asked, though he wasn’t sure if or when they might have access to food.
Thankfully, Bianca shook her head. “My nerves are far too frayed to eat. But thank you.”
They alighted the carriage and walked toward the ship. The driver followed behind with Tom’s bags and then dropped them on the dock near the ramp that would take them aboard.
“Thank you.” Tom held out a small purse full of coin for the man.
The driver held up his hands. “Oh, no, my lord. The earl done took care of me.”
Fin. “Well, then you shall eat extremely well tonight, won’t you?” He shoved the purse at the man and sent him on his way before turning to Bianca. “Ready to walk the plank?”
She gave him a smile that said she appreciated the humor, but no, she wasn’t ready. She turned to look back at the driver, heading for the carriage again. Tom had the distinct feeling she would have chased the man down and forced him to take her back had Tom not been standing there with his hand on her elbow. As it was, he wasn’t about to let her go anywhere but aboard this ship.
Finally, she picked up her skirts and stepped onto the gangway. Tom followed behind her, eager to board the ship and get her out of plain sight. Who knew where Tisbury had eyes?
~*~
It wasn’t that Bianca wasn’t grateful. She was extremely grateful for all that Tom and the earl and countess had done to keep her safe. It was quite a sacrifice he was making, leaving England, taking a girl he barely knew on a ship bound for the islands where they would eventually be married. Not that going back to the islands was much of a sacrifice for him. Bianca knew that’s where he truly wanted to be and now he had an excuse to go back without feeling guilty that he was shirking his duties or his family.
Still, to take a girl he’d only known a few days and to make her his wife at the same time—well, he was quite a catch, wasn’t he?
Perhaps Bianca needed to accept that he was her fate, her destiny. She and Emil were probably better off without one another. Think of the sacrifices they would have to make were they to marry. Although, Bianca had the distinct feeling that the greater sacrifice would be on Emil’s part. She didn’t much mind living in the gypsy camp—she’d come to love it, as a matter of fact. But how would Emil fare in Society?
Bianca shook her head. It wasn’t as though it mattered now. The ship would be leaving the dock any moment and soon they would out to sea—she was as good as married to Tom.
She glanced across the tiny cabin at him now. He held a book up in front of his face, but she could tell he wasn’t actually reading it. His eyes didn’t shift at all, and he hadn’t turned the page in at least five minutes. She was fairly certain he knew how to read, so the only explanation was that he was deep in thought—or perhaps worry—over something.
“Is it any good?” she asked teasingly.
Tom raised his head, his green eyes wide at having been caught. “Sorry,” he said, his blond waves shifting with the shake of his head. “I—I…”
She lowered her voice and sobered her expression. “What is it, Tom? We are to be married—you might as well get used to confiding in me.”
He gave a little chuckle. “That’s the problem, Bianca.” He rubbed a hand across his face and stood from the small wooden chair. “I have no problem at all confiding in you.”
“How is that a problem then?”
“Because…because I know that you don’t feel the same way about me that I feel about you.”
Bianca sucked in a breath but sat perfectly still. What was she to say to that? What did it even mean, anyhow? Did he mean to say he cared for her? The way a husband might truly care for a wife?
He turned away, as if what he was about to say would be easier said were he not looking at her. Bianca was grateful for that, even though she wasn’t entirely sure what he meant to say.
He propped his hands on the worn wooden desk and took a deep breath. “I find you…desirable,” he finally said.
Truthfully, this wasn’t a terribly great shock to Bianca. She’d seen it in his eyes, the way he looked at her. And if she were telling the truth, she would admit the same. But desire and love were two different things. If Shakespeare had taught her anything, it was that.
She decided to take pity on him.
“Yes, I know,” she said quietly.
He whirled around. “You do?”
She nodded with an empathetic smile. “I would be lying if I told you I didn’t feel it too. You’re handsome and generous and one of the most selfless men I’ve ever known. Any woman would consider herself lucky to have your affections.”
“Any woman but you,” he said, his shoulders sloping with defeat.
Bianca wasn’t sure what made her do what she did next. It wasn’t pity really—at least she didn’t think so. More curiosity, she thought. But either way, she owed it to them both to at least explore the possibility. If they were going to be man and wife, after all, why not begin with the most basic of intimacies.
She stood from the bed and crossed the short distance to stand before Tom. He didn’t move. He only stood there, his green eyes turning to a gray smolder. Their lips were but a hairsbreadth apart. Bianca inched just slightly closer and—
“Ah!”
The vessel rocked when it presumably hit a wave, throwing Bianca off balance. She fumbled for something to grab onto so she wouldn’t fall, but there was nothing. Nothing except Tom.
She grabbed onto his shoulders as he reached out to steady her, putting his arms about her waist and holding on tightly. But then they were both falling, though whether he truly lost his balance or not, Bianca couldn’t say.
His muscular weight pressed her into the downy mattress and there they were again, face-to-face, lips so close it was a wonder they weren’t already touching.
But then they were. And it was heavenly and horrifying all at the same time. She didn’t want to stop yet she wanted desperately to throw Tom off of her and run from the room.
The war waged within her for the duration of their kiss, which was lengthy and passionate, almost desperate. Then Tom pulled away abruptly. He hovered above her, and they both just lay there, staring at one another, their breath heavy between them.
And then he was gone. Before Bianca even had a chance to think or speak about what had happened, the door close
d behind him, leaving a cold emptiness where he’d been.
Was it really Tom’s absence that she missed, though? Was he the one that sparked the subsequent sobs as she lie there in the ship’s cabin, alone?
Did it even matter?
Sixteen
The door to the inn slammed open, causing those in the taproom to turn abruptly toward the front door to see what all the commotion was about. A wild and harried Tisbury stood in the doorway and his eyes landed squarely on Victoria.
Her heart raced when he recognized her, but she didn’t move. She didn’t even bat an eyelash.
Tisbury stalked to the table where she and Fin sat quietly. They’d been expecting him, and they’d come up with a plan. It wasn’t a terribly good plan, as far as plans went, but with any luck, Tisbury would take the bait and leave them alone.
“Where is she?” he demanded, banging a fist on the table.
Victoria widened her eyes in feigned surprise. “Who?”
Tisbury seethed and growled like a wild dog. “You know who.”
“Oh, you must mean Miss Manning. Your fiancée?”
“You know bloody well that’s who I mean.”
Now, any other time, Fin would have stepped in and flattened Tisbury to the ground for speaking that way to Victoria, but since it wasn’t part of their plan, he held his silence. It was enough to know that it was killing him inside to not be able to defend his wife.
Victoria shook her head and tsked repeatedly. “Oh, how I wish I knew,” she said. “But they were already gone when we arrived.”
“Who?”
“Well, Tom and Miss Manning, of course.”
Tisbury narrowed his eyes at her. “I don’t follow.”
Victoria wasn’t sure she did, either. This was quite a convoluted situation, but it was the only story she had. Other than the truth, of course.
“Well, he told me he would be heading north to look for her, just as I’m sure he told you as well.” She waited for Tisbury to confirm the information, even though she already knew that to be the truth since she’d read the letter from Tom to Tisbury that had stated as much. “But then we spoke to a friend who’d seen him en route to Basingstoke. ‘Oh, no,’ I said to this friend, ‘Tom was headed north toward Nottingham. Surely you’re mistaken,’ to which my friend replied, ‘I assure you I am not mistaken. I even spoke with him while he had his horses watered at a coaching inn along the route.’ But by the time we figured out where he was—here—he was already gone.”
The Daring Debutantes Series Boxed Set Page 21
