Chapter Five
Claire yanked the sheet over her naked body, fire and anger dancing in her emerald stare. He saw the challenge in her, the fight, and he loved it. It made him want her all over again, but it also made him want to take up arms at her side. Her chevalier. Her champion.
But he wasn’t any of those things to anyone. These twinges of desire to be a hero were foolish at best. Dangerous at worst.
“Fuck you,” she growled.
His eyebrows lifted at the harsh words spilling from such pretty lips. She had been underground a long time, for he couldn’t picture the proper Claire of years past even knowing such a slur, let alone daring to use it. But then, he supposed she was trying to shock him.
He refused to rise to the bait and shrugged. “You already did that, Claire. Now we work.”
Her cheeks brightened with color and she flung herself from the bed, barely keeping the sheet around her curves. “That’s exactly what I want to do, War, but this is my daughter we’re talking about. I’m not going to just blindly follow you and your orders.”
“You won’t be blind,” he said, ignoring the image of Claire naked and blindfolded, at the mercy of his wicked whims. “You will see exactly where I’m going. I’m just telling you that if you want my help, you’ll follow.”
She shook her head. “I’ve followed far too long.”
The words hit him hard and he turned his face. “Well, I’m not Aston. And I think you know that or you wouldn’t be here.”
She was quiet a moment, and then she sighed. “I’m willing to listen. I’m not saying I’m willing to agree without argument.”
“I’ve been thinking about it all night,” he said, choosing to ignore her defiance for the moment. “And all morning while you slept. If I’m going to help you, Claire, there have to be rules we establish and you follow.”
“Such as?” she asked, her tone cold and dark as she glared at him.
“My brother Jack and I…it’s complicated,” he said, running a hand through his hair and trying to suppress the intense pain that rushed through his entire body with that massive understatement.
“With family it always is,” she said softly, and he heard a version of his pain in her voice. And why not? They shared that estrangement from those they had once been close to, though for very different reasons.
“Well, it won’t be so easy as just strolling into his lair,” War continued. “You must let me manage both how we go to London and what we do once we’re there to contact Jack.”
Her brow wrinkled. “Why do you think I came, War? I’m fine with you making all the arrangements as long as we can get to him.”
He pursed his lips at her enthusiasm about Jack. She didn’t know the man. She didn’t know what she was asking.
“Yes, well, I also must insist that once we have made those arrangements, you let me take the lead. I’ll be the one to meet with my brother.”
He’d known the reaction that demand would create. And Claire did not let him down. She flew forward, her eyes wide, her cheeks pink. She was shaking her head so that her blonde hair bounced on her shoulders. God, he wanted to taste her again, despite how utterly inappropriate that drive was in this moment.
“No,” she snapped. “Absolutely not. I want to speak to him myself.”
“He’s dangerous, Claire,” War growled, backing away from her since he had no faith that if he touched her it wouldn’t spin out of control.
She laughed, a bitter sound that held no beauty or pleasure. “Dangerous? I’ve lived with dangerous for over two years, War. I’m not afraid of it.”
But that wasn’t true. War could see it wasn’t. Everything that drove Claire now was related to fear. Fear not for herself, despite her precarious position, but for her daughter. And she would toss aside her own safety in order to obtain Francesca’s future.
“I see that,” he said, his tone softer. “But I don’t like it. You would destroy yourself, Claire?”
She held his gaze without any hesitation. “To save my child?” she whispered. “Oh yes. I will do anything.”
It was clear there would be no talking her out of this foolishness. So he had to go back to controlling her in it as much as possible.
“Good. Then you will be willing to do as I say since I’m the only one who can get you close to Jack.”
Her nostrils flared delicately and she pursed her lips in displeasure. He could practically see the wheels turning in that beautiful head of hers, Claire trying to find a way to thwart him. Finally, she smiled and her demeanor changed slightly. She eased closer.
“Very well, War. I’ll agree to these terms.”
He shook his head gently. She was convinced she would find a way around him. And perhaps she would at that. Claire was clever, it was one of the qualities he admired most about her. But for now, at least, he had her word and he would hold on to that until the moment she broke it. Hopefully he would manage to break her before that happened and she put herself in harm’s way even more.
“What else?” she asked.
He arched a brow. “How do you know there’s something else?”
This time her laughter was real and it filled his small chamber with warmth that far outstripped the fire. “I see it in your face, War.”
He didn’t return her smile. He couldn’t. His second requirement to helping her was not going to make her any happier than the first. In fact, he had a feeling it could very well send her flying from his chamber, naked or not. But there was no way around it. It had to be done.
“Claire, if I’m going to help you, I’m going to require one more thing,” he said. “When we get to London you will see your family.”
All the color drained from Claire’s face and the smile vanished from her lips in a heartbeat. She backed away from him, hands lifted as if warding off a physical attack.
“No.”
Terror, as real as any she felt when she allowed her mind to picture Francesca’s future with Aston, filled every inch of Claire’s body. Just the thought of facing her family made her body react, her heart racing, her hands shaking, her legs twitching to run out the door, run far away, never come back.
That was what she had been doing for years. Ever since the horrible moment when she’d realized how little she belonged in her own family, her own skin. She’d never told anyone about the realization which had turned her to the broken path she now walked, not even Aston. She had no intention of doing so now.
She pushed the thoughts from her mind and crossed the room to where she had discarded her clothing the night before. She pulled the long men’s shirt over her shoulders and fastened it with shaking fingers. She dropped the sheet and fumbled for her trousers.
“No,” she repeated. She tried to make her tone firm, but despite those efforts her voice cracked under the strain of her emotions. “I refuse.”
She heard War come toward her, but she didn’t look at him until he reached out. He caught the hand with which she gripped her rough trousers, covering her white knuckles with his rough fingers.
“Claire.” He turned her toward him. “This is not negotiable.”
She stared up into his dark eyes, stubborn but filled with understanding and a desire to help. She didn’t fully trust those impulses, but she wished she could. She wished she could curl up against his broad chest and tell him everything.
But it would change how he saw her, just as it had changed how she saw herself. And she didn’t owe him anything.
She lifted her chin. “Why do you care if I see them again, War? It should mean nothing to you.”
He hesitated a moment, and she drew back at the flurry of emotion that crossed his handsome face. Sadness, guilt and something else. Something deeper that she couldn’t quite place.
“Your family took me in when I didn’t deserve it,” he said softly. “And you’ve tortured them long enough.”
“Tortured them?” she repeated in horror. His choice of w
ords cut her as deeply as she could possibly be cut. “No. I haven’t. I haven’t done that.”
He arched a brow. “Haven’t you, Claire?”
His voice was so quiet and yet it felt like he screamed that accusation. She flinched away.
“No. No, I protected them.”
Protected them from the secret she had uncovered. Protected them from the shame of her presence after she ran with Aston and threw away her innocence. Protected them from the dangerous life she had led ever since, the dangerous people who watched her every move.
She had protected them from herself and all she had become.
“I won’t go back there,” she whispered, more to herself than to him. “I won’t undo all I’ve done to keep them safe by seeing them. They’ve forgotten me. Let it be.”
He reached up and his big hand cupped her face. His fingers were rough, but gentle and warm against her skin. For a brief, wild moment, she longed to lean into him, to collapse against him and let him use his strength to hold her. Foolish, of course. She didn’t depend on anyone, especially a man she was forcing to help her.
She pulled away from him and he let out a long sigh.
“They haven’t forgotten you,” he said. “And you will go Claire. It’s time.”
She flinched. “I can’t! I don’t want to tell them—” she began.
“Tell them what you like,” he interrupted, throwing up his hands. “I’m not dictating the interaction.”
She folded her arms as she faced him. “No, just demanding that there be one.”
He nodded, and he was utterly unmovable. She shut her eyes. God, she did want to see her family. Her brothers and sister had all married during the time she was gone. Lady Woodley had too, she heard. She longed to be part of their loud, wonderful clan again. To be folded into their open arms and pretend that she belonged.
The tears she had been trying to fight overcame her. One slid down her cheek as she whispered, “Please don’t make me.”
“You must,” he said, his voice firm but not unkind.
She heard the steel in his tone. He wasn’t going to bend on this subject. She would have time, of course, to convince him. And she intended on working very hard to turn the tables on him during the days to come. But for now, if she wanted his assistance, she had to agree to his terms. Even if they made her stomach tie itself in knots.
“Fine,” she lied. “I’ll see them.”
His eyebrows lifted as if he was surprised. And his expression told her that he didn’t quite believe her surrender to his demands. He saw through her somehow, and that made her uncomfortable.
She needed to regain some control over the situation. Over him. And she had one very good idea how to do that.
“Is there anything else, War?” she asked, moving toward him and dropping the trousers she still clutched in her fist. “Anything else you want in return for your help?”
He stared at her, his gaze even and unmoved even though his body weight shifted ever so slightly. She would wager that, if she broke their stare, she would see the outline of his erection against the front of his pants. Her mouth watered at the thought.
“Don’t offer what you can’t take, Claire,” he warned softly.
She laughed. “I took it just fine a short while ago.”
He shook his head. “You think that was what I want from you? That wasn’t the half of it. I won’t deny I want more, even though you think to use it against me in that pretty head of yours.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he continued, “And if you offered yourself to me, gave over to me, I would take you. I would claim you. Change you. It won’t be some kind of game, Claire.”
His words burned through her, heating her blood, making her heart skip to a faster beat both in interest and in fear. He wasn’t talking about making love to her sweetly, making whispered promises he wouldn’t keep, giving her pleasure politely. He was talking about something else.
“What do you mean?”
“I would break you, Claire,” he said, his voice so soft it barely carried despite them standing so close.
She shifted. “Like one of your horses.”
He nodded. “You have always been wild, Claire. And I think I could tame you, but only if you bent to my will.”
Her legs began to shake. She feared he was correct that he could bend her to his will. Only if she broke, who would be there to bind her back together? Him? No, War was as much as scoundrel in his heart as Aston and any of his gang were. He would tame her and then set her loose, leaving her without her wildness to protect her in the cold.
And yet the very idea of giving in to him, of letting go and allowing him to guide her pleasure and her passion, it moved her. More than it should.
She turned, walked away on shaking legs and faced the fire. It was warm, but it couldn’t cut through her sudden chill.
“When do we leave for London?” she asked, hating that her voice shook and revealed so much about her reaction to his dark proposal.
He was silent for a moment, and she waited for him to pressure her about what he had just offered. He didn’t. Instead he cleared his throat. “We can leave as soon as you’re ready.”
“Good.” She looked at him over her shoulder. “Then go away so I can get dressed. We’ve waited long enough.”
“As you wish, my lady,” he said, his face not revealing anything to her. He nodded, then backed from the room and closed the door behind him.
Once he was gone, she collapsed with a groan against the rumpled bed where he had so recently claimed her. The sheets smelled of him, of them and their passion, and her body twitched with need.
What was she about to do? Throw in with him to save her daughter? Give herself to him?
She feared she would do just that. Hell, she knew she would. Despite his warnings, just the thought of him touching her was enough to make her weak with longing.
But he was a man just as dangerous as the last she had bedded. Perhaps more dangerous, even if it was in a different way.
“I just have to keep my wits about me,” she murmured as she fisted her hands against the sheets. “Whatever he does, I must remain in control. It’s the only way to get out of this.”
Chapter Six
Within half an hour, the door to the stable slid open and War watched as Claire stepped from the darkness. She was impossibly beautiful, despite wearing that ugly men’s shirt and fitted trousers that left no curve of her backside to the imagination. Her blonde hair was bound tightly into a bun, but having the locks pulled back only accentuated how pretty her fine boned face was. No one would ever mistake her for a man, no matter how hard she tried to make herself look like one with her clothes.
She stepped toward him, her expression guarded when she looked at him. It brightened as she caught a glimpse of Shakespeare, who was fully saddled and waiting for him.
“A beautiful horse, War,” she breathed.
Shakespeare turned his head toward her, as if begging to be touched. In that, War and his animal were the same, for as she lifted her delicate hand to Shakespeare’s neck, War shivered. He knew what those fingers felt like against his own bare skin.
Heaven.
“Thank you,” he choked out. “Shakespeare is a fine animal, yes.”
“Shakespeare,” she repeated with a smile.
“I’m not entirely uneducated, Claire. ‘For where thou art, there is the world itself, and where thou art not, desolation.’”
Her eyes darted away and she drew a long breath before she whispered, “Henry VI, yes?”
He nodded.
“I always preferred Cymbaline,” she said. “‘Men’s vows are women’s traitors.’”
He frowned both at the quote she had chosen and the broken tone of her voice when she said those words. Claire was forever on a tightrope with him, drawing him in because of what she wanted, because of what she needed. But also pushing him away because of what she feared.
He
decided not to press the issue and instead turned his thoughts to more practical issues. “Do you have a mount?”
“Of course. I mixed her in with Edward’s horses in the paddock last night.”
She pointed down from the stable a bit to a handful of horses that picked at the grass in a fenced in field. War saw the strange horse immediately and made a face at the animal’s appearance.
“A nag,” he grunted. “More skin and bones than horse.”
She shrugged at his blunt assessment. “You are a horse snob, Warrick Blackwood! I stole Nellie from fine stock and we make do.”
“You stole her,” he repeated, trying to keep the fact that he was impressed from his tone.
She shrugged. “I had no choice. It doesn’t matter at any rate, she will ride fine.”
“No.” He shook his head. “She won’t do. I’ll leave her here.”
Her lips parted. “And what will happen to her here?”
His eyes widened at her upset tone. “The stable hands will take care of her. Probably fatten the poor creature up and give her a comfortable rest for a while.”
She seemed to ponder that for a moment. “They won’t be surprised to see a strange horse in their care?”
“Perhaps they will be, but they’ll do and say nothing about it. The stables and the horses are my business. They don’t question me.”
“I can imagine very few challenge you,” she conceded.
He smiled slightly despite himself. “Only you.”
A blush filled her cheeks and he knew he had made her think of their earlier conversation about what he wanted to do with her sexually. He thought of it too, and his cock stirred. Damn it. Now he was going to have to ride all day in this discomfort.
“What will I ride if not Nellie?” she asked, lifting her chin.
“You can take one of mine. Stay here and I’ll saddle one.”
He moved away from her and moved to the same paddock where Nellie had been left. All the horses except for the one she had left there edged toward him, trusting him entirely. He had worked hard for that trust. With Claire it would be more difficult, he knew. He looked the animals over. Finally his eyes fell on his favorite, a spirited filly with a star on her nose. She allowed him to take her to the stable where he saddled her and brought her back to where Claire and Shakespeare awaited them.
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