The Hero Least Likely

by Darcy Burke

  And he’d expected her to. It was why he’d done it. She’d been flirting with him, dammit, and he was already too attracted to her. Nothing good could come from their association and once he settled her in Wootton Bassett, it would be at an end. He’d post a letter to Jason asking him to ensure her safety when she returned to London and he’d enclose a letter for Carlyle. The man owed him, and Ethan would collect. Carlyle would find a way to protect her until Gin Jimmy realized Ethan was gone for good.

  A chill settled at the base of Ethan’s neck. He’d never planned his life around the welfare of someone else. It was a bloody nuisance. And yet, he’d bound himself to her—at least temporarily—when he’d snuck into her house for waltzing lessons.

  If you decide to go to America, I hope you’ll take me with you.

  Her request had kept him up long after she’d fallen into slumber. He’d actually considered what she said. Fleeing to America where he could be Ethan Lockwood. And she could be . . . What could she be? His wife? The dream he’d long envisioned of somehow regaining the life that had been stolen from him had never included domestic bliss.

  That dream had started to become reality when he’d entered Society several weeks ago as Jason Lockwood’s long-lost bastard brother. People had been titillated by his mysterious background and his charming disposition, which was at such odds with Jason’s reputation as a potential lunatic who hosted notorious vice parties, a reputation Ethan took credit for creating.

  Ethan had done a good job displacing Jason from Society years ago when he’d accidentally scarred his face in a fight. Then he’d ensured Jason’s staff had fled his town house, declaring him mad like his mother. Jason’s marital eligibility had promptly disintegrated and he’d been left with nothing but a frightening reputation, which he’d turned into one of scandal and decadence when he began hosting London’s premier vice parties.

  But Ethan didn’t want that revenge anymore. Instead, he and Jason had begun to claim the brotherhood they’d lost amidst the wreckage their parents’ hatred had left. That was more valuable to Ethan than he’d ever dreamed anything could be. To feel a sense of belonging, of rightness . . . He wanted that. And he couldn’t get it in America, which meant he had to find a way to make it happen in London.

  “I’m not sure where Bassett Manor is located.” The lilt of Audrey’s voice broke into his thoughts. Bassett Manor was the estate where her friends resided.

  “Shouldn’t be too hard to find,” he said as their horses walked onto the High Street. “How many estates can one little village have?”

  “Actually, there’s another nearby, Cosgrove.”

  Bloody rich people. “Let’s just have a look, shall we?”

  They rode up the street past some shops and a pub. Several coaches were parked in front of a large building. As they came closer, music drifted from the open doors.

  Lanterns from the coaches and from the building illuminated the area and allowed him to see her face more clearly. She was smiling. His heart did a little trip, as if it had missed a beat.

  “Can we listen, just for a minute?” she asked, guiding her horse to the side of the street.

  He followed her and dismounted, his body protesting with its various aches and pains. He tied his horse to a post and helped her down. While he secured her mount beside his, she moved to the side of the building where a window was open and tapped her foot to the music.

  They ought to find Bassett Manor, but he couldn’t deny her a moment’s joy after their grueling journey. Nor could he deny himself the joy of watching her.

  The music stopped and then started again, but with a slower tune. A waltz.

  She turned toward him. “Have you been practicing?”

  He had, in fact. With some of the lightskirts at the Crystal, the flash house where he kept his primary lodging in St. Giles. They hadn’t been nearly as skilled or graceful as Audrey, but he’d closed his eyes and done his best to imagine her in their place. He realized he had the opportunity to enjoy the real thing. Perhaps the last such opportunity he’d ever have.

  He went to her and offered his most courtly bow. “May I have the honor of this dance?”

  She curtseyed in return. “You may.”

  He clasped her hand and splayed his palm against her back as he swept her into the dance. He’d practiced enough to make the steps without counting, but he still worried about stepping on her toes, as he’d done the first time she’d taught him.

  “You have been practicing. And with excellent results. You dance divinely, sir.”

  He resisted the urge to nuzzle the graceful column of her neck. “I had an excellent teacher.”

  “You seem the perfect gentleman.” Her tone had been light but now took a darker, more serious turn. She looked at him again with that infinitely warm and sympathetic gaze that threatened every wall he’d built around himself. “I’ll say it again, you can change what you are, who you want to be. Who you want to be with.”

  He knew what she was asking. Temptation hovered before him just as surely as the promise of brotherhood was luring him back to London. Both were a risk and he was no stranger to risk . . .

  “Ethan.” Her voice drew him back. Had she called him by his Christian name? No one save Jason had called him that since his mother had died. He’d been “Jagger” nearly as long as he could remember.

  The music seemed to fade from his ears as he looked into her eyes. He slowed until they were no longer waltzing. She touched his cheek. His smooth, unscarred, pretty-boy cheek.

  “Did you know I gave Jason his scar? I wish it had been the other way around.”

  She shook her head. “Why?”

  He smiled wryly. “A menacing facial disfigurement would’ve suited my lifestyle far better than his.”

  She brought her other hand up and cupped his face. “Don’t wish that. Don’t.”

  A part of him knew what she meant to do before she did it, but he was paralyzed by her touch, by the soft look of understanding and empathy in her gaze. And by God even if he could’ve moved, he wouldn’t have. He wanted her lips on his.

  She kissed him, her mouth pressing against his with an innocence sweeter than any delicacy he’d tasted during all of his decadent years as Gin Jimmy’s right hand. During that time, Ethan had evaded death countless times, always with a fervor for life and an absolute refusal to surrender, but right now he thought he might welcome his maker, for nothing could be closer to heaven than her. Nor had he ever wanted anything more.

  He wrapped his other arm around her and drew her up against him. Her tall, lithe body fit into his with sweet precision, as if their coupling was ordained by God himself. A silly notion, for God wouldn’t have paid any attention to Ethan Jagger.

  Her hands moved from his face to the back of his neck. He took the action as an invitation and slanted his head. With his lips, he applied pressure to her mouth, coaxing, teasing. He held her close, anticipating she might flinch as he licked along her lower lip. She surprised him again by clasping him more tightly. Her lips parted in another invitation he couldn’t refuse.

  He slid his tongue into her mouth. Cautiously, so as not to frighten her, he swept along her interior, relishing her velvety softness. She was hesitant, allowing him to kiss her but not responding in kind. It wasn’t enough. He wanted her to give what she was getting, to share in the rapture he felt.

  He skimmed his left hand up her spine and fingered the curls that had escaped their pins and grazed the back of her neck. They were as soft and silky as he’d imagined. He wanted to twist his hands in them as he probed her mouth. And why not? He might never get this chance again.

  He speared his fingers into her hair beneath her bonnet until he palmed the back of her head. Then he deepened the kiss, stroking his tongue into her mouth with mad possession, demanding her response.

  Now she flinched. Or did she shiver? Whatever she did, she didn’t pull away, and that was all he needed. He tugged at her hair, pulling her head slightly back and arch
ing her neck. He nipped at her lower lip. “Kiss me, Audrey.”

  He’d looked at her shuttered eyelids as he’d spoken. Her eyes flashed open, their aqua depths sparkling like jewels. She stared at him the barest moment before pulling his mouth back to hers and doing exactly as he’d instructed.

  Her kiss wasn’t perfect and it wasn’t graceful. Her teeth grazed his as their mouths connected, but the ferocity with which she clutched him to her and pressed her tongue into his fired his need better than any lustful imagining. But she was no dream. She was real and wonderful and everything he never knew he wanted.

  He massaged her scalp as he plundered her mouth. The kiss burned through him. His cock grew hard as it had been the other morning when he’d rolled on top of her. That he could explain away as a typical morning problem. But he could no longer deny he wanted Audrey. He wanted her naked and moaning beneath him. On top of him. Every way he could have her.

  Her fingers dug into his neck. She copied him and nipped at his lower lip. His lust roared and he pulled her head back farther, exposing her neck, then put his open mouth on her flesh. He sucked and nibbled beneath her jaw, then licked a path to her ear. He’d just lightly closed his teeth over her sensitive lobe when a cough behind him froze his desire.

  “Oh my goodness, is that Audrey Cheswick?”

  Audrey’s eyes flew open and she stepped backward. Ethan let her go—there was no point in trying to think of him as anything other than Ethan now—and her knees wobbled. She managed to focus on the couple gaping at them from maybe five feet away, standing between them and the street. She recognized them of course, as they were the people she and Ethan had come to find.

  “Lady Foxcroft.” Audrey strove to keep the apprehension from her tone. She curtseyed, as one would do in the presence of the daughter of a duke. Then she repeated the action for her husband. Though he wasn’t a peer at all, he still deserved a curtsey, she reasoned. “Mr. Foxcroft.”

  “Good evening, Miss Cheswick,” Mr. Foxcroft said. He gave both Audrey and Ethan a thoroughly assessing perusal. “You are, ah, a bit underdressed for the assembly.”

  Audrey and her friends had known Lady Foxcroft as Miranda before she’d been expelled from London two and a half years prior for exhibiting scandalous behavior. Her exploits had, in fact, inspired Audrey to launch her own ill-fated adventure with the blacksmith’s son.

  Miranda smacked her husband playfully on the arm. “Fox, they are clearly not going to the assembly. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be skulking about the window. What are you doing out here?”

  The fear that had shot through Audrey when she’d heard the cough returned tenfold. She glanced at Ethan and hoped she didn’t look as panicked as she felt. He, on the other hand, looked calm and cool, not at all as if they’d just shared an incredible embrace that had been tragically interrupted.

  “We’re actually looking for you.” Ethan smiled and the effect caused Audrey’s knees to wobble again. The man possessed devastating charm when he wanted to, and probably even when he didn’t. “We’re, ah—”

  “Eloping,” Audrey said, sidling closer to him and putting her arm around his waist. There was no sense hiding what they’d been doing. And really, what else were they going to tell them? Their plan, rather, Ethan’s plan, had been to simply drop her at Bassett Manor and leave her to explain how she’d gotten there. However, now that they’d both encountered the Foxcrofts and they’d been caught in an embrace, it seemed a new plan was in order.

  Miranda and her husband looked at each other, doubt clearly etched on their faces. Her mouth curled into a confused moue. “You came here on your way to Gretna Green?”

  “Something like that,” Ethan said smoothly, moving away from Audrey. “We’ve come a long way. Might we go to Bassett Manor for a bath and perhaps a meal?”

  Miranda straightened. “Of course! We only just arrived for the assembly, but we’ll have the coach take you home.”

  Fox looked at her, his mouth lifting in a half-smile. “Shouldn’t we go with them? For propriety’s sake?”

  “Why bother? They’ve clearly been traveling alone.” Miranda glanced at Audrey who was certain her face had turned a vivid scarlet. She gave her a commiserative smile. “Sorry, dear.” Miranda touched her husband’s arm. “I’m sure they want to get cleaned up. We’ll see them later. I refuse to miss the quarterly assembly.” She turned to look at Audrey and Ethan. “You see, my husband is the finest dancer in all of Wiltshire.”

  Audrey didn’t think it would be seemly to argue that Ethan was, in fact, the best dancer in all of England. Probably because her opinion had more to do with his kissing than his actual dancing skill.

  Mr. Foxcroft scrutinized Ethan. “Gretna Green, you say? You’re a bit out of the way if you’ve come from London.” His gaze raked over them again and he clearly wondered why they were dressed as they were—Ethan in an incomplete suit of clothing and Audrey in an unfashionable, ill-fitting sack. Thank God she at least had the bonnet to mask her disastrous hair, though she suspected it was a catastrophic mess after the way Ethan had tangled his hands in it. Heat bloomed in her belly and she tried desperately not to think of their kiss. Rather, kisses.

  Ethan’s features were placid, his smile benign. “As I said, it was something like that. We’re not on our way to Gretna Green.”

  Audrey recognized what he was doing; he’d done it with her the past few days. He acted as though he was answering questions in a polite fashion, but in reality he didn’t impart the information one was looking to ascertain. Then again, he’d also outright ignored her questions or told her plainly that he wasn’t going to answer them. She decided this was a better tactic.

  “Might we discuss this later, Foxcroft?” Ethan asked. “I’d like to see Miss Cheswick to Bassett Manor right away.”

  “Certainly, and it’s Fox.”

  Ethan held out his hand. “Ethan Locke.”

  Miranda offered her hand to Ethan, who pressed a kiss to her glove. “Fox, you remember, he’s Lord Lockwood’s brother.”

  Ethan smiled broadly. “Indeed. We, ah,” he glanced at their horses, “have mounts that will need to be tended.”

  “We’ll send a couple of grooms to collect them when the coach comes back to retrieve us. Fox?” She inclined her head toward the coachman.

  Fox shook his head at her, then went to direct the retainer. When he returned he said, “Everything is organized. The coachman will take you to Bassett Manor straightaway.”

  “Thank you.”

  Miranda went to Audrey and linked arms with her. “Pardon us, gentlemen.” She moved her away a few steps and whispered, “What the devil are you doing here with him?” Her gaze dipped over Audrey’s form. “And just look at you. Good Lord, what happened?”

  “It’s a dreadfully long story. I’ll tell you about it later.” Which will give me time to figure out exactly what to say. “However, if you have clothing we might borrow . . .”

  Miranda waved her hand. “Of course. Just ask my maid for whatever you need.” She turned and led Audrey back to where Ethan had moved to stand near the coach. “See you later!” She waved, then dragged her husband into the assembly.

  Ethan, meanwhile, helped Audrey into the coach and climbed in after her. They started moving almost immediately and the rumble and sway of the vehicle, and its delightfully cushioned seats, were a welcome respite from horseback.

  Ethan sat on the seat opposite her. The lantern inside the coach showed the firm set of his jaw and the lines around his mouth. “That was unfortunate,” he said.

  “Them catching us? Yes.” She’d been about to say the kiss had been anything but; however, she decided it might be better if they didn’t discuss it. Not when Ethan looked annoyed. “Are you angry?”

  His features relaxed slightly and he leaned his head back so that he was looking at the ceiling of the coach. “No. I just have to readjust my plan.” He lowered his gaze and directed her a half-amused, half-frustrated look. “They think we’re eloping.�
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  “What else was I supposed to say? They saw us . . . you know.” Audrey scooted toward the corner where the lantern light didn’t quite penetrate, in the hope of shadowing her flaming cheeks.

  He pulled the curtain aside and looked outside. “I don’t know. I suppose we’ll simply tell them tomorrow that we’ve changed our minds. I’m sure they’ll agree to come up with a story that will preserve your reputation.”

  “My reputation is beyond preservation.” She had no remorse about this, but recognized her family would be devastated. However, there was nothing she could do about it now. “My grandfather knows I left with you.”

  He dropped the curtain and sat back. “If everyone thinks I kidnapped you, your reputation could be salvageable.”

  She laughed, but it was hollow. “You don’t really understand Society, do you? I could tell them all you stole me away in the night but didn’t lay a hand on me. No one would believe that. Besides, I won’t let anyone think you kidnapped me, because you didn’t.”

  A long moment of silence stretched between them before she continued. “Let’s just tell them we’re going to America together. Then we can leave after your arm is healed.”

  “And actually go to America? My life—my brother—is in London, Audrey.”

  “You left London. In quite a hurry too. Won’t Bow Street be waiting for you when you return?” How she longed to know why they were pursuing him.

  “Probably.”

  This time the heat in her face was due to anger. “Why won’t you just tell me what happened? It can’t possibly be worse than killing someone, and you’ve already admitted to that.”

  He rubbed his hand over his eyes. “Audrey, please don’t ask me. I’ve told you far more than I’ve ever told anyone.” He lowered his hand and settled a dark glare on her. “Don’t make me regret that.”

  She leaned slightly forward “People would help you. Your brother and Lydia. Me. And we know other people.”

  “Your faith in people is astounding.” The disbelief in his tone filled the coach with a sour air. “You assume there’s a way to help me without even knowing what I’ve done.”