"Impossible," Lord Howell cried.
"No, it is not, Uncle George." If he minded the old endearment she used to use prior to her becoming a social pariah, he didn't show it. "Each of you has almost the same power as my father. Each of you could release Nathan Trevain if you so desired. And each of you could also tell me where his brother is. In fact, I would wager you all have that information in your head."
None of them responded. Smoke from their smoldering cigars rose toward the ceiling. A clock tick-tick-ticked in the room.
"Not going to tell me?" she asked.
"According to our sources in the colonies, he is a criminal and a traitor," Howell snapped. "He belongs in the Tower."
"He is guilty of nothing more than defending his country. If that makes him criminal, my lords, then you are criminals, too."
"You are wrong," Parker contradicted her. "What is more, if you do not leave my house this instant, I will see to it your father hears of your activities."
She laughed. "I would wager he will hear of it whether I leave or not."
"Yes, but you can be certain of it if you do not heed my warning this instant."
"You cannot order me out, Lord Parker. I am not one of your ensigns."
"No, you are the daughter of a trusted friend, a daughter who should have been married off or sent out of the country long ago. That your father did not do so was considered a bad mistake by us all, his lack of judgment showing its effects now. You are a disgrace, Ariel D'Archer, a woman it shames me to admit is the daughter of our First Lord."
His words hit her like tiny rocks, though she told herself it was silly to let his barbs affect her so. She tilted her chin, telling herself Lord Parker only said aloud what everyone else thought. It shouldn't hurt. It shouldn't.
"Leave, please, before I have you forcibly removed."
She looked at them all. Each one was staring at her with identical looks of icy coldness and disgust. "So you will not tell me?"
"No," Parker said with impatience, others murmuring no along with him.
She struggled to keep her chin up, fought to stand there without letting them see how much they'd disappointed her. That her fellow countrymen—nay, men she'd once considered friends—could treat a fellow human being this way. . .
"Very well, then, I shall leave." She held herself erect, let her loathing shine from her eyes. "But when each of you looks in the mirror this night, ask yourself one question. Can you live with yourself if you cause the death of a man who was forcibly removed from his ship, made to serve aboard another vessel against his will, then not released once the reason for capture was over?" She let her eyes linger on each and every one of them. "If you can live with that, gentlemen, then you are sadder than I thought. Good evening."
She turned on her heel, barely seeing her surroundings. But when she reached the carriage, it all came undone. Her shoulders slumped, her eyes filled with tears. She stood there trying to get her breath. Failed. Again.
"Lady D'Archer?"
Ariel stiffened.
Lord Gordon had followed her from the house. "A moment, if you please."
She turned, stared, damned if she would be the first to talk.
"You should not have come," he said after a lengthy pause.
"I had no choice."
His aged gray eyes looked disturbed. "It will go ill with you and your father."
"I know that, too, but it does not stop me from doing what is right."
He didn't answer, just glanced back at the house. Light shone through the windows. Ariel thought it looked remarkably serene, considering the tumultuous words that had just been spoken. Gordon turned back to her. The war had aged him, she realized. Well, the war had aged them all. For the first time Ariel understood what that meant, for she felt a different person since meeting Nathan Trevain. Older. Wiser. Less naive.
"I never agreed with the navy's unspoken approval of press gangs. 'Tis a deplorable practice for a nation that prides itself on civil liberties."
"As I recall, my lord, 'tis exactly that right which the colonist fought for."
He grew silent again. Ariel didn't know what to do. Hold her tongue? Plead Nathan's case again?
She did what came naturally, reaching out and placing her hand on his jacket. "If you know where his brother is, at least tell me that."
His blue eyes stared at her with unwavering consideration for a long moment. Then he seemed to nod to himself. "Very well. He is being held aboard Captain Pike's ship, HMS Destiny. It's due into Portsmouth any day now. A court-martial is convening."
Ariel stared up at the man, speechless. When the words finally penetrated, she spun on her heel and entered the carriage.
There was no time to waste, not even on a good-bye and thank you to Lord Gordon.
18
The acrid smell of urine and sweat filled Nathan's nostrils as he awoke. Bits of straw clung to his white shirt and breeches, the guard having stolen his naval jacket. It was cold, though Nathan didn't feel it. No, he burned inside, burned as he had never burned before.
Betrayed.
Again.
By a woman.
How could she do it? he asked himself. How could she stand there and seem so sincere, all the while plotting his capture? He stood up from where he leaned against a cold, hard wall. Muted gray light shone in from a window high above him. He stared at it, his jaw tight with bitter anger. He would escape from this hellhole, he silently promised, escape and then find his brother. Then he would leave this godforsaken country and its treacherous people.
But as he looked into the cloudy sky, a pair of golden eyes haunted him.
Damnation. Why could he not get her off his mind?
Because you'd started to like her, Trevain. More than that, you'd started to care about her.
Yea, he'd cared about her just a bit too much. Fool. Imbecile. He'd almost done it again, fallen in love with the wrong woman.
He clenched his fists, felt the scabs on his knuckles begin to crack. The realization only brought back memories of her.
I'll help you, she had said.
And she'd looked so damn earnest, so damn heartfelt. So damn beautiful.
But as the memory of her beauty splintered apart his heart, so did his trust. He choked on that trust, surprised to feel himself unable to breathe for a moment as he tried to get his rampaging emotions under control.
"Well, my bloody patriot. Time to move you to yur new 'ome."
Nathan spun to face the door, his dirty sash flaring. He welcomed the interruption, for with it came the opportunity to think, think about something other than Ariel D'Archer.
"'Ave you 'eard? Yur ta be taken to the Tower this mornin'. First-class 'ccommodations, they are. Like it there you will, I'll wager. They've got more mice than we 'ave."
The man opened his mouth, a loud guffaw emerging past his cankerous-looking gums. He clutched his gut, squeezing out the words, "Come along, then, let's put these chains on ya."
Nathan tensed, thinking he could take the man on, but two more guards entered the cell. One of them pulled out a pistol, the other came forward to put on the chains. Nathan forced himself to calm. Time enough to fight later. . .when he wasn't so outnumbered.
The light outside his cell seemed bright after the dimness of his former quarters. Two more guards stood outside, these with muskets, the muzzles pointed at the sky. Nathan followed the first two out, his wrist and ankle chains rattling as he walked up a flight of stairs, down a narrow hall and out a door.
Be patient, he told himself. Bide your time.
He emerged into a courtyard of some sort. A prison transport with a single draft horse stood impatiently pawing the ground. The horse's breath steamed in the chill morning air. Nathan felt a shiver race up his spine as they led him toward the vehicle. Big wheels, high, wooden walls and a thick roof. A small door had been cut into the back. A square window with iron bars over it was the only adornment.
"Get in."
He did as inst
ructed, using the steps they provided. The inside of the cart smelled as horrendous as his cell. He settled himself on the grimy, dank floor, his lip curling in disgust. The light faded as the door closed. The carriage tipped as someone climbed aboard—the driver, no doubt.
"'Ave fun in the Tower," called the gaoler. "Try not ta lose yur 'ead while yur there."
Again a loud guffaw rang out. Nathan closed his eyes, leaning his head against the wooden sides.
Would this day never end?
But unfortunately, it would, without Wess's location discovered. Without even a clue as to if he was still alive. Bloody, bloody hell.
The streets seemed to be deserted. The sound of the carriage was the only thing Nathan heard besides the persistent beat of his thoughts. That they used no soldiers as escorts showed their contempt for him as a prisoner. They would realize their mistake soon enough. Not for nothing had he fought in hand-to-hand combat for a year.
The carriage picked up speed. The road became bumpier as it flew over cobblestones, then bumpier still as it rounded a corner.
"Bloody hell," he heard the driver yell. The cart tilted abruptly. Nathan placed his hands against the walls to avoid being tossed about. The cart swayed in the other direction before stopping suddenly with a thunk.
"Bloody, bloody hell. I could have been killed," he heard the man mutter.
"Do not move," a female voice said a moment later.
Nathan froze.
"Step down from the carriage and let the prisoner out."
Ariel.
And if he didn't miss his guess, she was—
"Now," she added.
Staging a rescue. He shot up, his chains rattling as he flung himself at the door.
"'Ere now, lad. I can't be doing that."
"You will do whatever I say or I will use this pistol to put a ball through you."
Silence as the man obviously contemplated his options. And then he felt the carriage tip, heard keys jingle as they were pulled out.
Nathan closed his eyes in relief. Demme, it wasn't a lad. . .it was Ariel. She was rescuing him. And though he told himself what he felt was simple gratitude, he knew it was more than that.
Much, much more.
The door opened, a hooded figure stood behind the same guard who'd put on his chains, a figure disguised as a boy yet unmistakably Ariel.
"Take them off," she ordered, her voice low, obviously in an attempt to disguise it.
He could barely see her face in the early-morning light, for she wore a cloak over her boys' clothes, a hood shielding her face.
"Quickly," she added.
The man's eyes narrowed at the order. Nathan saw his intent before he had time to do it.
"Ariel—" He flung himself at the man, the pistol the guard reached for flying to the ground. They both landed hard. The breath rushed out as Nathan flipped onto his back.
But his chains turned out to be a blessing, for when the guard drew back to hit him, Nathan swung his arms, one of the iron bracelets he wore catching the man square in the head. He collapsed like a broken tent.
"Nathan, oh, Nathan, are you all right?"
He didn't answer. Truth be told, so many of his bones ached from his collision with the ground he doubted if he could have talked if he'd wanted to. He lay there, eyes closed.
"Nathan?" Small hands shook him.
Reluctantly he opened his eyes. Wonderful, beautiful golden eyes stared down at him. They were filled with concern and something else? Relief? His hand lifted automatically, only to fall back to his side as he winced. "I am well, Ariel."
"Oh, thank goodness. That means you can get up."
No, pray God, don't make me move.
She nudged him with her hand. "Hurry, Nathan, before someone comes upon us."
She had a point. He hated to admit it, but she had a point.
"Find the man's keys. We'll need to unlock my shackles."
She nodded, doing as instructed. Slowly Nathan pulled himself into a sitting position, watching her search, wanting to reach out and clasp her to him, wanting to kiss her, wanting to do so many damn things he was hard pressed not to touch her.
"Here."
She made short work of the locks, her hands shaking, her eyes darting behind and around them numerous times. When the last chain dropped away, he clutched at those hands. Her gaze immediately went to his.
"Thank you."
She nodded, her eyes filling with heartfelt emotion. "You're welcome," she answered softly.
The urge to kiss her overcame him, but she spoiled it by pushing herself to her feet, the gray cloak she wore flaring as she turned toward two horses tied nearby.
He turned toward the cart.
And gawked.
The horse was gone. All that butted up against the side of a deserted building was the cart.
"I worked the pin loose this morn," she explained. "'Twas a difficult task, let me tell you. And then I must have followed you for a mile before it finally worked its way all the way out. Gracious, this made forging those documents with my father's seal seem easy. Of course it was easy to copy my father's hand and cancel the order for an escort for you this morn."
"Ariel, I do believe I could kiss you."
"Save it for later, Nathan. For now we must hurry."
She took his hand, leading him toward the horses. They stood in the middle of a street with buildings on either side, some dilapidated, some not. 'Twas only a matter of time before someone spied the broken carriage and called the Watch, if they hadn't seen it already.
"Take the black," she instructed, mounting her own bay horse.
"Where are we going?" he asked as he mounted.
"Portsmouth."
"Portsmouth? Why?"
"Your brother's ship is due into port there."
He stared at her in mute shock. And then he gave in to the urge that had plagued him since first hearing her voice. Pulling his horse abreast of hers, he leaned over and kissed her—quickly, lest his body embark upon other ideas.
"I am in your debt, Ariel D'Archer."
"Yes, you are. And so I will settle for you moving that horse."
He smiled, then did as asked. Suddenly the day didn't look so bad.
19
They left London at top speed, Nathan turning his horse off the main road once traffic cleared. Ariel followed, wondering where he was going. Apparently to a stand of trees, tall oaks whose gnarled limbs reached toward the sky. He stopped in a dappled patch of sunlight. The smell of oak leaves and rich earth filled her nostrils.
"Why have we stopped?"
"Tell me what ship my brother is on."
"Why?" she asked suspiciously.
"Because you are staying behind."
She stiffened. "No, I am not."
"Yes, you are, Ariel. ‘Tis too dangerous for you to go any further."
"So you would have me ride back into town alone?"
"It is the lesser of two evils."
"Evils. Why, I—" She released a huff of air in mute belligerence. "I've just rescued you, you fiend. In broad daylight. And yet you worry that a ride to Portsmouth will be dangerous?"
He frowned. "The ride concerns me not. It is what awaits us in Portsmouth that I fear."
"Fear not, sir, for I shall be perfectly safe." She turned her horse to go.
"Ariel, wait—"
But she ignored him. Silly man. Did he not see there was no way to stop her from accompanying him?
Apparently he didn't see for one minute she was on the horse, the next he pulled her off it. They both landed on their feet.
"How in heavens did you do that?"
She pressed up against him. Her cape had parted. Without the mounds of petticoats and hoops, she could feel every hard muscle in his legs. Gracious.
"A trick I learned in war, my dear." And did his voice sound strained, too?
Her body began to warm in the most lovely way. Not in desire. No, not really that. In something else, something that felt wonderful a
nd sweet.
"'Tis a good trick," she admitted.
He still held her, his arms around her waist. "Yes, it is," he answered back.
He would kiss her, she was sure of it. That was good, for she felt quite willing to be kissed. But instead he put his nose next to hers. His face was a blurry blob. All she could see were his eyes. No scar, no forehead, just his eyes. She didn't move. Truth be told, she felt rather curious about what he intended to do.
"What are you doing?"
"I am trying to tell you with my eyes that you are not going." His breath whispered over her skin. She liked the smell of that breath, which was rather odd, for she couldn't ever remember thinking such a thing before.
"Is it working?" he asked.
If she tilted her head back just a bit, just a tiny bit. "No."
"Then listen to me. You are not going."
His breath wafted across her lips again, his body snuggled next to hers: hip to hip, chest to chest. "Yes, I am," she answered, moving even closer.
His eyes grew heated. "Please, Ariel, do not argue with me."
Gracious, but his eyes were amazing. So many colors all mixed into one: green, blue and silver gray. "I am not arguing, Nathan, I am merely stating facts. We are going together."
"No, we are not."
She drew back, hating the loss of contact but beginning to grow piqued. "And what will you do if I do not comply? Tie me to that tree there, like you did before?"
"Yes," he answered, crossing his arms in front of him.
"And how will you tie me?" she asked sarcastically. "With the ribbon that holds back your queue?"
"No, with your horse's reins."
She placed her hands on her hips. "Bully for you."
"Yes, it is rather a good idea."
Her eyes narrowed. "Nathan, we don't have time to argue. Your brother's ship will arrive shortly—"
"The name of that ship, Ariel," he interrupted.
"I am not telling it to you, so you will just have to take me with you."
He took a step, pulled her back into his arms, his eyes so suddenly earnest her breath caught, "Please, Ariel, do not be stubborn. 'Tis too dangerous."
Enchanted by Your Kisses Page 19
