“Yes, my dear.”
“Please, Lord Pillington. Do not force me to be unkind.”
“It is done with now,” he squeaked, oblivious to her growing impatience. “You must accept it. Come, Miss Stafford. Let us seal our future with a kiss.”
“A kiss! Ha!” She laughed. “Pillington,” she stated calmly, while mimicking his earlier condescending tone. “I would not kiss you if you were all that stood between life and a slow painful death. You are old enough to be my grandfather, fat enough to feed a family of four through a very long winter, and stupid enough to even think, for one moment, I would ever,” she took a breath, “have anything to do with a cowardly, manipulative, shallow, money-grubbing, weak-chinned, foolishly attired, shadow of a man such as yourself.”
Joshua listened to her assessment, rapt. He couldn’t agree more. He thought he heard a grunt from Marcus as well. That about summed the man up, though in truth, he had no idea as to the cad’s manner of dress and didn’t think it particularly wise to provoke an overeager suitor.
Lord Pillington sputtered, furious and advancing. “You arrogant priss. You’re nothing but American sea trash. You will marry me, Miss Stafford. You have no choice.”
Joshua heard the click of a trigger and stepped from the curtain instantly, ready to defend. Instead, he froze, stunned at the scene. He stepped back and shook his head toward Marcus on the other side, also about to advance. This woman did not need their help. It was a pale Lord Pillington who was looking down the barrel of a gun. Her next words made Joshua shake his head in wonder.
“And herein, my lord,” she said, “lies the difference between an Englishwoman and an American woman.” Her voice was without humor. Her hand steady. Her face hard. She knew how to threaten and didn’t waste the experience. God knows she tried to be polite about it.
Pillington turned ashen. Beaded sweat, once lingering in excitement, dripped from his brow and lip. “You wouldn’t.”
“My dear, Lord Pillington,” Alex drawled, imitating him. “How foolish and naïve you are.” Alex began to recount with cool logic a new scenario. “Let me set the scene for you. A shot is heard. Guests come rushing. I wasn’t feeling well, you see, and came to the library to rest. Then you came.” She mocked being frightened. “It was horrible. You tried to force yourself upon me. Lo, I only meant to scare you. But you wouldn’t stop. The gun went off. It was a terrible accident. Such a waste.” She pretended to weep. “But secretly everyone will think you deserved it. You were obsessed after all. And desperate, some will say. Your name will be ruined. You will be dead. But,” Alex ended pleasantly, “at least you will not have to worry about your debts any longer.” She advanced a step. “Do you wish to thank me before I pull the trigger?”
“Please—”
She cut him off impatiently. “Oh, don’t beg. It’s such a horrible waste of one’s last words.”
Pillington choked on a plea.
“Very well, since I consider myself both a generous and reasonable woman … tonight you will live.”
Joshua wondered what kind of reasonable woman carried weapons to social events. Hell, carried weapons at all. He had no doubt Marcus was thinking the same thing.
Alex watched as Pillington slumped in relief. “Don’t make me regret this,” she said coldly.
Pillington swallowed fearfully. There was a long silence.
“I’m not going to regret this, am I?” she prompted harshly.
“No, no, of course not!” Pillington promised.
“Good.” Alex motioned with the gun toward the open window.
Pillington looked confused.
“Well you can’t leave by the door,” she explained. “Someone might see you, and then I would have to kill you another way. Let’s not make it messy. The window, please.”
Pillington gazed out forlornly.
“Well?” Alex waited, wondering at the problem.
“My shoes. They are brand new.”
Alex looked down at the shiny spectacle of footwear with continued dismay at the man’s vanity. “So they are. And what snappy little buckles. Very well. Take them off.”
“But—”
“Shoes. Now.” Alex forced the humor from her voice, though her lips twitched from the effort. “I shall toss them down to you.”
Pillington proceeded to take off his shoes. It took some wiggling. They were very tight. Then he sat on the sill, trying to get the courage to jump.
Eager to be done with the task, Alex lifted her foot and assisted him with a helpful shove. As promised, the shoes followed.
She leaned out the window. “Oh, dear. That wasn’t your head, was it? So sorry. Well, do have a nice evening!”
Alex turned from the window with a satisfied huff and flounced over to a comfortable chair nearest the whisky decanter, carefully laying her gun on the table. “If that doesn’t earn me a drink, I don’t know what does.” She poured a healthy splash of the amber liquid. Lifting her glass, she saluted the portrait of one of the earlier, stern-looking, dark-haired Stonewoods, and drank with pleasure. The amber liquid went down hot but smooth. The earl had excellent taste. “Nothing left to do now but go back and join the guests,” she spoke out loud. Slowly she gathered her items together and made for the door.
The lock turned easily, and she peeked outside for witnesses before opening the door and closing it again.
There was a full minute of silence before he stepped out from behind the thick drapes with a sigh of relief and an empty glass still in hand.
As the immense shadow moved from behind the curtain, Alexandra Stafford thought she had just made the biggest mistake of her life. Danger set off the hairs on the back of her neck. The figure of the man came into view sparking a faraway memory at the back of her mind while self-preservation came to the front. The face she thought forgotten came into sharp focus then disappeared with the sheer impossibility. Alex forced unnecessary thoughts away. There was no time for reminiscing.
With her gun hand unwavering and her voice distinctly cool, she spoke. “And you are?”
His smile was disarming. His looks devastating. His size terrifying. This was not some pretty, English fop. This was a man.
He was well-dressed in traveling clothes that seemed to slide over muscles that rippled from hard work. Her mouth went dry taking in his white shirt, opened casually at the neck. A summer coat draped over one powerful arm. At the end of the arm was a large, tanned hand holding the missing glass. His free hand casually hooked the waist of his slim-fitted riding pants, drawing her attention to long legs and muscular thighs.
But it wasn’t his looks that did her in. It was the sparkle of amusement and intelligence in his eyes—intense blue eyes reflecting an inner glow of vitality that so many pampered aristocrats lacked. She stiffened against the attraction.
Alex knew he was not a thief. He was a man of wealth. He was very comfortable in his surroundings and he smiled with much too much ease. To make matters worse, he was entirely too tall, too broad, too confident, and too attractive.
And too familiar.
“To answer your question, I am a friend of the Earl of Stonewood.”
His voice was deep and rich and full of humor. It sent shivers down her spine. She ignored the sensation and debated the possibility with a frown. It could be the truth. If not, well, she doubted a small bullet would stop this man. Evidently he thought the same.
“You don’t intend to shoot me with that?”
Alex slowly pulled out a knife from her sleeve and redirected the gun to the corner. “No. The knife is for your throat. The bullet for your friend in the corner.”
If possible, his smile got bigger. “Ah, we have been found out.”
There was a curse from the other side of the study as another man came out of hiding, a stubborn, lord-of-the-manner expression on his face.
When she turned to Marcus, Joshua took the opportunity to simply enjoy the woman before him. She appeared nearly five foot seven, lean but rounded with sh
apely hips and, he imagined, long legs. His gaze took in the golden skin at her swooping neckline then followed her features from stubborn chin to arched brow.
Each feature seemed a collection of sharp angles, but all fit together perfectly. Deep green eyes glittered at him from behind full, dark lashes. He liked the way her right brow arched provocatively when she had questioned him. He imagined the pink lips, when not pressed together with determination, were full and soft. Rich auburn hair was pulled back from her face and piled atop her head in an arrangement of shiny, stylish curls. Just one long strand fell over her cheek in a spiral, slightly obstructing her vision in a way that made his loins tighten. She was exquisite.
He took one look at Marcus and realized his friend had not expected the unexpected. When he turned back to his angel, he realized she was experiencing the same thing. He watched with interest as her features turned to recognition, then dismay. She ventured a discreet peek at the large portrait of Marcus’s father on the wall, and he held back a laugh as she visibly winced. The earl’s high cheekbones, jet-black hair and dark eyes were hard to miss.
“Oh, dear.” Alex shuddered in complete panic. Emma’s dear Earl of Stonewood had returned! And quite unexpectedly. How damned rude! Alex wasn’t sure it was at all possible to make a good impression at this point. Cringing at her predicament, she lowered her weapons. “One moment, please.”
She hurriedly ducked behind the settee near the door, and sheathed her weapons. She straightened, catching them doing the same, eyeing her empty hands curiously. She ignored the earl’s questioning look.
“So … you’re friends of the earl? I’ve heard he is a nice man.” Damn. Emma had really wanted her to make a good impression on the earl and he looked anything but pleased.
The blond giant laughed out loud. “Perhaps we should introduce ourselves.”
“No!” Alex blurted out. “I mean it is obvious you are both well-mannered gentlemen, not thieves or anything equally notorious.”
“Thieves?” The earl seemed affronted. Great.
“Yes, you know, the type to sneak in through windows and such. I thought I saw something earlier and only came in here to investigate. Otherwise, I would never presume to enter the earl’s private domain,” she explained as carefully as an innocent criminal before a judge.
“Investigate? By yourself?” The earl appeared astounded by the thought. The hole was getting deeper.
“Yes, well the earl is away right now, as you probably know, and so with no one to see to security, I thought, as a friend of Lady Emma, I should”—she swallowed—“make sure the wrong people weren’t in the earl’s private study.”
“That’s very noble of you,” the blond man said. “But how did you get in?”
“How did I get in?” There was an awkward silence. She looked at him, annoyed. He wasn’t being helpful. “Why, same as you.” They looked surprised at that. “The door, of course.”
She plucked a pin from her sleeve and lifted the wayward lock of hair back into place on top of her head. She followed up with the two additional pins, then reached for her gloves. Evidence gone, and properly attired, she smoothed her dress, took a deep breath and gave the gentlemen a gracious smile. It worked. They smiled back.
Joshua felt a catch in his gut. It was a feeling he hadn’t experienced in years. She looked utterly sweet. He had to remind himself that minutes before she’d been ready and able to blow his head off. A dimple peeked out of her left cheek and her eyes lightened a bit, seeming unable to resist the humor of the situation.
She moved to the decanter and refilled both their glasses, acting the gracious hostess. “Please sit. I’m sorry I disturbed you. You look as though you had a long journey. You must be exhausted. I would like to hide with a drink … er, a refreshment as well after such a long journey. Have you come from London? Will the earl be joining you? I’ve heard he is a man of very good taste. And very forgiving. Is it true, he is forgiving?” she directed to the earl.
“I believe he’s fair,” Marcus answered with a winning smile. Joshua’s friend was willing to be flattered by a beautiful and mysterious woman.
“Will you join us?” Joshua offered to pour some whisky for her. She nearly snapped at him when he reached for the glass she used earlier. He grinned with delight.
“A lady does not partake of such things,” she recited dutifully.
Marcus looked at the used glass and his eyes filled with mirth.
She glanced at him sheepishly. “Well not in mixed company, and only when she has had a very trying evening.”
“Yes,” Marcus agreed. “I think the earl will definitely forgive you for requiring a drink. Would you have really injured him?”
“Of course not.” She sat delicately on the edge of a chair that was offered and fixed the folds of her skirt in a way that all proper women did. “There were witnesses,” she explained.
Joshua laughed. The earl choked.
“Oh, dear, are you okay?” Alex hurried to assist him with a whack on the back when they heard a commotion down the hall. “Oh, no!” she moved deftly and locked the door, then spoke with apology and panic. “Hurry! You must go.”
Marcus shook his head in self-disgust, moving toward the curtains. “I’m taking my drink this time.”
“It’s Lord Pillington’s friends. You cannot hide. They will be looking for him, and if they find you it’s just as bad.”
Marcus and Joshua both took offense at that.
“Well not nearly as bad,” she amended. “It’s just that I have no desire to be married, especially not to an Englishman!”
They feigned insult.
“Though I am sure you are the best of the lot,” she reassured, politely. The study door jangled. Alex turned back to the window. “Would you like me to hand you your drinks?” She took their glasses, urging them, yet trying to be helpful.
The earl scowled. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.” He grabbed the whisky decanter.
“Jump or be fodder for husband-hunting mamas, my friend.” Joshua winked knowingly at the red-haired beauty as his friend jumped out the window.
Alex leaned out. “I’ve heard the earl has a wonderful sense of humor. Is his humor unsurpassed?” An irritated grunt was her only answer. Alex hastened to the blond giant.
“Ah, alone at last,” he teased. “Perhaps I should stay?”
Terror and consternation came at once. “No!”
“How rich are you?”
She gasped with disgust.
“Truly, no desire to be married to an Englishman?” he queried. She opened her mouth, ready with a tart response, but he stopped her. “No, don’t say it. You’d sooner be shot. And that wouldn’t be well done of you. Being a lady,” he mocked, before hopping easily to the ground.
Alex huffed at the impertinence of the man, decidedly relieved when he was gone. Then, just when she thought she was safe, he reached up and caught her wrists, sending heat up her arms. He held her still, and their eyes met with curious intensity as powerful hands slid deliberately over hers. The movement was both shockingly pleasant and achingly familiar.
He smiled knowingly. Then he relieved her of the two glasses.
Alex jolted back, annoyed at her unaccountable response.
“Careful, Miss Stafford, or I might change my mind about staying.”
“You’re too late.” Alex said, feeling inexplicably hurt. For one moment there was a spark of question in his eyes. She slammed the window, but could not turn away. Not possible. Not at all. And yet … why did she feel so certain? Leigh, she recalled the name. Was it his given name or surname? It would be easy enough to find out. Determined, she pulled the thick curtains shut.
Outside, Joshua froze, staring at her. It was as if she could still see him. He couldn’t make out her expression quite as well as he would’ve liked, but she shook her head. Was it in disbelief or dislike? What did she mean, he was too late? Surely he did not know her. And yet, there had been that spark of recognition. He shook
it off. This woman was too elegant. Too high bred. Too competent? The image of her was right. He wondered, perhaps disheveled, with her hair down? Yes, then the gun in hand seemed to fit … but no, too incredible. The curtains closed and he dismissed further deliberation on the subject. He didn’t really have time for a woman quite yet, still … when had that stopped him?
“I begin to wonder, Marcus, if that was not the most amazing woman I have ever met.”
“She picked the lock of my study,” Marcus pointed out.
“Resourceful,” Joshua defended.
“More amazing than your long-lost slave girl?”
“Equally amazing,” Joshua reflected. “Older, of course, and a bit pricklier. I’d have to hear her swear for a true comparison.” This woman was much too well-spoken to swear like his star-crossed slave girl. But, if the possibility of finding that girl mere miles from his home wasn’t so completely remote, he would question his own sanity. He was certain that girl had long ago married and no doubt had several children. Yes, that was the most likely circumstance.
“I hope you are up to the challenge, my friend. I don’t think she liked you much.”
“No?”
“No. She only scowled at you. She smiled at me. Obviously she thinks you lack charm.”
“Impossible.”
“But quite apparent. Whereas I am kind, forgiving, and full of humor,” Marcus mocked. “You don’t think I look too much like my father, do you?”
“Not at all,” Joshua lied.
They laughed again, this time without holding back, and drank a toast to the strange woman they had just encountered, never once expecting their lives would soon be forever changed because of her.
Chapter Six
Emma laughed so hard she nearly fell from her mare.
Alex had just relayed her adventure from the night before, conveniently leaving out her awkward encounter with the earl and his companion.
“He actually went out the window?” Emma wiped the tears from her eyes.
“Well …” Alex hesitated, “… not without a little help.”
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