The Stranger She Married

by Donna Hatch

  His smile flashed, calmly stirring her into chaos with even greater efficiency than normal. Yet tonight she saw him in a new light. She knew deep hurt resided behind that confident smile, a hurt she wanted to help heal if she could. But somehow, his effortless control over her senses threw her into a state of irritation.

  "My lord,” she greeted him. She tried to keep her voice nonchalant. His handsome grin widened, and her knees weakened.

  "Can't you agree to call me Cole just for tonight? Cousin?"

  She raised her chin haughtily. “Very well, Cousin Cole, you scoundrel. I will be civil to you, for my husband's sake. I am sure you are somehow behind this. How you ever convinced him to allow this ridiculous scheme, I shall never know."

  He awarded her his heart-stopping grin. “Would you believe it was his idea?"

  She sniffed. “I suppose he isn't as intelligent as I thought. It's like asking the cat to guard the fish bowl."

  He grinned. “An apt metaphor.” Then he leaned closer, and her swirling senses spiraled higher. “I have been looking forward to spending this evening with you, Alicia.” He chuckled softly at the look of alarm that must have come over her face. “Fear not, I promise I will be a perfect gentleman. Your gown is exquisite. It suits you perfectly. And the jewels are a nice complement."

  "Thank you.” She eyed his immaculate blue superfine and the stark white of his shirt and cravat against his tanned skin. “You look well. Dashing, as usual."

  He grinned while something dangerous smoldered in the depths of his eyes. “Dance with me.” It seemed a plea rather than a command. Against her better judgment, she allowed him to lead her to the dance floor.

  Armed with an arsenal to keep him talking about safe subjects, she said, “I understand you spent much of your youth at sea?"

  He nodded. “I left Cambridge and joined the British Navy when I was fourteen."

  "I am surprised your family let you go away to sea. Normally the eldest son is required to stay home, isn't he?"

  "I often break with convention. I was angry, foolish, and craving excitement. I'm surprised my father approved. Perhaps he thought I'd do some growing up."

  "Were you in many sea battles?

  His face closed over. “Yes."

  She paused, wondering if she should pursue this topic, but the desire to understand the man beneath the calm exterior urged her on. The dance pattern took them apart. When they were back together, she looked up at him. Very gently, she pressed, “Were you wounded?"

  Tension radiated from his body. “Everyone is wounded at least once."

  She suspected that he had been hurt in many ways. The ravages of war left their mark on many men. Some wore their scars on the outside where a mask must shield them, others wore their scars on the inside and masked them with a careful expression and a teasing manner.

  His voice took on a lighthearted tone, but it sounded forced. “My brother Jared had a different idea. He signed on with a privateer. Fewer rules, better pay. Jared was promoted faster than I. He loved to lord it over me that my younger brother was ahead of me in rank, but since he wasn't in the Navy, I did not consider it a contest."

  "Did you serve with my husband?"

  "On different ships, of course, but we were in some of the same battles. I sold my commission after the war. My brother Jared is still at sea, as captain of his own ship.” His face softened as he spoke of his brother, and his tension dissolved.

  The dance set ended and he led her off the floor. They sat on a sofa between two large ferns and sipped drinks Cole snatched from a passing tray.

  "Tell me of your brother,” she urged. “Jared, is it?"

  "I have three living brothers. Jared...” he let his breath out slowly as is trying to determine how much to divulge. “He's been living as a pirate for nearly three years. It's a role he's taken to rather well. Perhaps too well.” He glanced at her. “I'm trusting you with this family secret."

  She nodded to assure him she'd never breathe a word.

  He grinned at some fond memory. “He's arrogant, incorrigible, and completely without honor."

  "So, in other words, you are much alike,” she interjected with a teasing smile.

  He chuckled, his eyes glittering. “I see you know me well."

  He began relating their antics as children. She easily pictured a younger Cole causing mayhem in his corner of the world with an adoring younger brother innocently participating in all of his exploits. With her gently probing questions, he told her of his school days and the pranks he and his classmates orchestrated. Alicia laughed until her cheeks hurt.

  Putting her hands against her face, she cocked her head to the side. “What do you do when you are not frittering about the countryside, trying to tempt hapless relatives to cuckold their husbands?"

  His easy laugh coaxed another smile out of her as well. “Seeing to the estate takes much time. In my free time, I ride and hunt. When I want something more vigorous, I box and fence. I am fond of horses and horse racing. I actually own several winners.” He spent the next several minutes telling her about his horseflesh, races and hopes for the future. He related the loss of his newest horse, and the injury of the jockey.

  As they talked, she felt her defenses fall. She told him of her childhood and of her parents, her brother, her terrifying first season in London with the beau monde dowagers watching her critically.

  "Alicia. And—Lord Amesbury, what are you doing here with her?"

  Alicia looked up in surprise to see Catherine standing over them, virtually glittering from head to toe.

  Cole shot her quizzical grin. “I was invited, I believe. And you?"

  "Visiting my dear niece for her first ball. And you were supposed to come alone."

  Cole smiled. “My cousin asked me to watch over his delightful wife, and I was only too happy to oblige. Lovely to see you again, Miss Sinclair. Good evening."

  He stood and led Alicia away as she tried to stifle a smile. “That may be the first time anyone has ever dared cut Catherine Sinclair,” she said when they were out of earshot.

  "She is a shallow, vain, conniving woman. I have had my fill of that sort. They fail to hold my interest."

  "Oh? And who would hold your interest?"

  "Someone who's already rejected me soundly.” He spoke wryly, but without rancor, and his smoldering gaze heated her cheeks.

  The evening was a magical swirl of music, lights, dancing and Cole's beautiful blue eyes. When other men asked her to dance, he glared at them and only grudgingly stepped back to allow them to take her hand. Under his attentiveness and open looks of admiration, she blushed with pleasure and something else she did not dare identify. Light and giddy, she forgot everything but the brightness of his smile and the feel of his strong arms around her waist as they floated across the dance floor. After a mouth-watering dinner, there was more dancing.

  Captain Hawthorne had come as Catherine's guest. His handsome face and dark eyes brought a smile to her lips as he greeted her with a polite bow and asked for a dance.

  Alicia accepted. “I am happy to see a familiar face here, Captain Hawthorne,” Alicia said as they danced. “You've come a goodly distance."

  "You're looking well, Lady Amesbury,” he replied.

  She glanced at Catherine, who stood laughing in a circle of ardent admirers. “Are you and Miss Sinclair...?"

  His dark eyes were shielded. “I'm not certain. I do not believe my lineage is impressive enough for her."

  "Then she is blind. You are handsome, polite, and your father is a respected gentleman. Any girl should be grateful for your attentions."

  He inclined his head in a bow. “You are very kind."

  The dance ended and he thanked her for the honor. Cole appeared at her side, greeted Captain Hawthorne civilly, and took her hand again, sweeping her away.

  A footman appeared with the message that Lady Edenburgh had fallen ill. The hostess had offered to let her remain for the night and had already put her to bed.
/>   Alicia's bliss faded. “Oh, dear, nothing serious, I hope?"

  The footman shook his head. “No. The doctor was not sent for, but she developed a dreadful headache."

  Cole seemed to be amused by the whole thing.

  "What?” Alicia demanded of him when the footman departed.

  Cole shrugged. “It's possible her ‘headache’ is nothing more than a tryst with her lover."

  "Cole Amesbury! What a thing to say."

  He chuckled. “Her husband is sixty and an invalid. You can't expect a thirty-year old woman to live a life of celibacy, can you?"

  She glared at him. “Are all men so depraved, or just you?"

  He laughed. “Most are, I fear. However, I'd expect her to be a bit more discreet than to leave you to return home alone. Who knows? Maybe it is a mere headache.” He turned pensive. “Nicholas would have my head if he found out I'd let you travel all that way alone. You had better let me escort you home."

  "What? And risk that kind of scandal?"

  "You're a married lady now, Lady Amesbury. The scandal dwindles once you are no longer husband-hunting."

  "Still,” she sputtered. “It would reflect poorly upon me. And him. He—"

  "Would shoot me if harm came to you. He's as good a shot as I. And Aunt Livy likes him better. She'd never let me live in peace.” He grinned.

  Alicia smiled reluctantly. “Very well. I admit, I'm not overly fond of traveling alone at night."

  His grin widened. “Someday, you'll say you'd love to spend an hour in my company."

  A gentleman approached for a dance, and the dancing and music swept her away.

  All too soon, the magic ended. Alicia's joy did not, however. She climbed in to Cole's coach still smiling at her charming escort. They talked and laughed while the coach made its way down the road. The swinging lamps played with the shadows. He lounged across from her, his long legs stretched out and she marveled again at his handsome face and the breadth of his shoulders.

  Dancing for hours began to catch up with Alicia and she had to fight her fatigue. She removed her slippers and rubbed her feet.

  "Here, let me,” he said.

  She only weakly protested as he massaged her sore feet. They looked tiny in comparison to his large, strong hands.

  "Ohh,” she moaned, “that feels wonderful."

  With controlled strength, he coaxed the soreness out.

  "Mmmm,” she heard herself moan again.

  "Stop that, you're making my imagination run wild."

  "Hmmm?"

  His eyes glittered darkly in the lamplight. “Never mind.” He rubbed her feet until she felt both renewed and drowsy before his hands stilled. “Better?"

  She smiled at him, her eyes half opened. “I think I could dance for a few more hours now. You have magical hands."

  He opened his mouth, but then closed it firmly without speaking. The carriage rolled its way over the rutted road and they fell into a comfortable silence.

  He moved to her side. His hands cupped her cheeks, his thumbs caressing her skin as ever so slowly, his head lowered toward hers. Her heart pounded in anticipation as his nearness, his touch, filled her senses.

  A tiny smile touched one corner of his mouth an instant before he brushed her lips with his. Once. Twice. Then he settled in for a kiss. She was lost in the sweet warmth that permeated her body, vibrating every nerve, stirring her to acute alertness. He tasted mildly of sweet wine and cinnamon. She breathed deeply of his masculine scent while his surprisingly soft lips gently tugged at hers.

  The only other man who had tried to kiss her had been rough, brutal, and nothing like this. Only the slightest pressure of his large, strong hands on her face kept them anchored beyond the gentle contact of their lips. She knew she could escape at any time and he would not press her, but escape was not her wish. She wanted more.

  He obliged her unspoken desire. His hands guided her head to a different angle, coaxing her lips to part. He deepened the kiss, his controlled passion coaxing her to follow, stirring her to greater heat.

  She met him, hesitantly at first, but as desire stirred her blood, she let her hunger guide her in response. She felt the fabric of his superfine and his heart thudding under her hand. Instinctively, she slid one hand up his coat toward his head, speared his hair with her fingers and pulled his mouth more firmly upon hers. A strangled groan escaped him and he trembled with restraint. Sweet desire made her pulse gallop.

  "My lord?” The coachman's voice broke through the darkness.

  Cole closed the kiss and lifted his head. “What is it, Parker?” His voice sounded hoarse.

  "Trouble."

  He released her with a regretful, rueful smile, caressed her cheek, and then put his head out of the coach's window to converse with the driver, but the wind carried their voices away from her. Her senses spun with Cole's taste, his scent, his touch, the desires he stirred.

  Cole pulled his head back inside, his expression grim. He drew in a breath, held it a moment, and then released it slowly.

  "Forgive me, my lady, but I must ask you to move to this seat.” He indicated the bench across from her.

  After she complied, he knelt and lifted the cushion of the seat they had recently vacated to reveal a compartment filled with handguns. Cole deftly loaded them all and laid them out on the seat next to her in a neat row, all the handles facing the same direction.

  Seeing guns in his hands left her cold. “What is it?"

  "Highwaymen. Take off the pearls and give them to me."

  At his commanding tone, she obeyed without question. After placing her jewels in a small cache hidden in one corner of the compartment, he blew out the lanterns and parted the curtains over the windows. Alicia craned her neck around his head to see riders approach from both the front and the rear of the carriage.

  A voice called out, “Stop the coach and cooperate and no one will get hurt."

  The coach stilled and the riders surrounded them. Alicia's heart pounded. Her breath sounded loud in the stillness.

  Cole placed a hand over hers. “Courage,” he whispered.

  As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she watched Cole soundlessly heft a gun in each hand and held them poised, his hands steady, his expression impassive. She could easily imagine him as a soldier; deadly, ruthlessly calm in the face of danger.

  "We aren't carrying any money,” Cole called out.

  "Send out the lady."

  They exchanged wide-eyed glances and then Cole frowned, clearly wondering why they would make such a demand. “Lie down,” he mouthed.

  Alicia sank to the floor and flattened herself.

  "If it's ransom you wish, take me!” Cole shouted.

  "We want the girl."

  Alicia peered out from a crack between the door and the frame. In the bright moonlight, she could see that all of the highwaymen had guns pointed at the coach. One of the highwaymen, she presumed the one who had spoken, eased his mount closer.

  "Send her out now, unless you wish for bloodshed!” the leader called.

  She glanced up at Cole who had his guns trained carefully upon the highwaymen. An explosion erupted from beside her. With a gasp, she covered her ears and realized Cole had fired one of his guns. The leader let out a grunt and folded in his seat, but before he dropped from his saddle, Cole fired again, and another rider fell. Both lay motionless in crumpled heaps on the ground. With howls of fury, the highwaymen all opened fire.

  The coach began moving again, and judging from the swaying, the horses were at a full run.

  Alicia watched a hole appear in the doorframe, and then the wall behind her splintered. She flattened herself to the floor, her heart hammering against the floorboards. Cole dropped his discharged guns and picked up others, firing without pause as incoming balls tore their way through the walls of the coach and the seats. The acrid smell of gunpowder filled the air.

  Cole dropped his guns next to Alicia in the small pile of firearms scattered on the floor and picked two m
ore, watching out the narrow back window. He continued firing outside as the highwaymen pursued, their shots growing wider as they fell behind.

  He looked down at her. In the semi-darkness, she could not see his expression, only the direction of his gaze. “Are you all right?"

  She nodded mutely.

  "Alicia?” A trace of panic colored his voice and she realized that he could not see her clearly enough to have seen her nod.

  "Yes."

  "A ball didn't strike you?"

  "No."

  Another gunshot from outside shredded the back curtain. Cole grunted and fired back both guns. He dropped them and picked up his last two, his eyes sweeping the road behind them. They rode in silence for several moments while Cole kept watch. Finally satisfied, he set down the guns and helped Alicia to her seat. He scooped her into his arms, crushing her against his hard, strong body, and let out a ragged breath. She felt him tremble as his iron control slipped.

  As the danger passed, the reality of their peril caught up to Alicia and she shuddered, tears gathering. They might have been killed. If not for Cole's skills as a gunman, they surely would have been. Or she would now be in the hands of criminals.

  Cole held her tightly, arms strong and soothing, all signs of the merciless gunman gone. He murmured words of comfort while she wept. She lay against him, wishing things could have been different between them. How right it felt to be encircled by his arms!

  By the time they arrived in front of her husband's home, she had pulled herself together and dried her tears.

  "You took a terrible risk, Cole."

  "I'd die before I'd deliver you to unscrupulous men.” His voice sounded tight, angry.

  Predawn gray spread across the eastern sky and mist swirled above the ground. He helped her out, holding her hand for a moment longer than necessary. His eyes searched hers with an intensity that set her heart racing. Then his expression softened, and he brushed a kiss against her temple before turning away.

  He looked up at the coachman. “Parker? Are you all right?"

  The coachman sat hunched over. Cole swung up onto the seat and carefully eased the driver's body back, causing him to unbend. The man sucked in his breath as Cole probed his side and then swore softly.