He shook his head. “Your parents never mentioned any of this. Thomas never said a word.”
“My family doesn’t know.” She drew a ragged breath, her gaze training on his chest. “Andrew died last fall when the weather was too bad for them to travel to his funeral. Then, the time was simply never right to tell them about the servants.”
Never right? For God’s sake, she’d been widowed and abandoned by her staff, and the time was never right to ask for help? “Mrs. Crenshaw—”
“I was unwell,” she interrupted. “Andrew’s death was such a shock—I fell ill. And then…” Her voice trailed off, and whatever she had been about to say was lost. “But I’m better now. In fact, I plan on closing up the house and returning to London next month, when the roads will be passable and when I’m feeling stronger.” But the words came far too smoothly, too practiced, and her eyes lifted to his, as if searching for proof that he believed her. “And now you know everything.”
That was a laugh. He’d barely scratched the surface of the secrets being kept here.
“As you can see, there’s nothing to concern you, but I cannot accommodate guests. Nor do I feel up to traveling…even as much as I want to see Thomas.” An aching grief passed over her face before she averted her eyes, and she drew a shaking breath, her hands wrapping in her skirt. “So when will you be leaving, Major?”
“Tomorrow.” He stared at her, grimly noting all the obvious signs of fear and unease she so openly displayed. “First light.”
Her shoulders sagged, and a soft sigh of relief escaped her. “I’ll have Yardley bring the letter to you at the inn—”
“Oh, no,” he interrupted with a forced calmness he didn’t feel. “You misunderstand me.”
Her eyes darted up to his. Sudden panic made their blue depths resemble a storm-tossed ocean. The tip of her tongue darted out nervously to wet her lips, and he watched, fascinated by the little movement. He placed his hand on the wall beside her shoulder and leaned in closer, close enough to see her pulse racing tantalizingly in the hollow at the base of her throat.
The brat, he reminded himself again. Thomas’s sister, which meant she was as good as a sister to him, too…a sister who just happened to have amazingly plump breasts.
“I’m not leaving without you.” He drew a deep breath to steady his concentration. “Hedley and I are spending the night here, and in the morning, you’re coming with us to—”
With a frustrated groan, she shoved futilely at his shoulders. “Why won’t you just trust me?”
His rising frustration matched hers as he ground out, “Because the last time we met, you nearly ‘trusted’ me straight into a duel.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” The words poured from her with an angry groan. “How many more times will that kiss ruin my life?”
His head snapped back as if she’d slapped him. “What?”
Her hand flew to her mouth as she realized what she’d said, deep regret dancing in her wide eyes. “I’m so sorry,” she forced out, muffled between her fingers. “I didn’t mean—oh, Grey…”
His eyes narrowed on her. She’d certainly meant it, all right. “The last time I saw you—” He angrily choked off. Lord, how this woman roiled his insides! One moment, the minx had him wanting to strip her naked, the next he wanted to wring her little neck. “Damned stupid of us—of me—to let you talk me into…” Christ!
He’d been kicked out of Ivy Glen, nearly lost Thomas’s friendship—now the damned woman had the nerve to blame him for ruining her life?
“Forget it, Emily. Please.” He’d certainly done his best to do just that, until Thomas sent him here, apparently straight into hell after all. “I’m still being punished for it by your parents. I don’t deserve to be punished by you, too.”
She gaped at him. “Punished—you? When I was sent—” She stopped, her eyes narrowing curiously on the bewildered look he gave her. Remorse darkened her face as she asked quietly, “You truly don’t know? Thomas never told you?”
“Told me what?” He sighed heavily, wanting nothing more than to put the past behind them for good, get on the road to London, and leave for Spain, where he already should have been. “He said you went off to school, then got married.”
And widowed last fall. Was that what was wrong? His heart skipped. Was all this emotion because she was still grieving her late husband?
“Emily,” he pleaded, his voice gentling, “tell me what’s wrong so I can help you.”
She hesitated, an expression of such grief and fear dashing across her face that he lost his breath. For one moment her lips parted, and she looked pleadingly at him for understanding, as if she wanted to unburden herself—
Then her mouth snapped shut, the veil once more falling over her face.
She arched a brow. “You won’t leave here without me?” she asked, veering the conversation back to their standoff.
“No,” he answered firmly.
“Then we seem to have a problem, Major.” Indignantly, she pushed him back and stepped past. “Because I’m not going anywhere!”
Clenching his jaw so tightly that the muscle twitched in his cheek, he watched her bend over to pick up the hunting gun she’d used to shoot at him. Then she walked away toward the house.
“You don’t have a choice,” he called out to her retreating back. He’d shove her into a carriage and drive away with her inside if it came to that.
She faced him, holding the gun expertly in the crook of her arm. “Thomas taught me how to shoot. He’s a very good shot. The best, in fact.” She paused meaningfully, a warning in her voice. “Since my husband’s death, I sleep with a loaded pistol next to my bed. And I never miss.”
His mouth twisted wryly. “You missed me earlier.”
“I hit a foot above your head, exactly where I aimed.” She tucked a golden curl behind her ear. “So please keep that in mind should you decide to try kidnapping me in the middle of the night.”
With a toss of her head, she opened the door and disappeared inside the house.
Grey stared after her, blowing out an aggravated breath. Where on earth had the adorable brat gone? How had this woman with the temperament of a she-devil and the body of a temptress taken her place, a stubborn minx who refused to leave her home without force and who had just threatened bodily harm to him should he attempt to try?
He rolled his eyes. Good Lord. What had he gotten himself into?
* * *
Emily leaned against the wall and squeezed her eyes shut as she struggled to calm both her racing heart and her swirling mind.
Captain Nathaniel Grey…Impossible!
Yet here he was. The man she still remembered so vividly from his visit to Ivy Glen when she was sixteen…those chocolate eyes that crinkled when he laughed, that mouth that grinned so charmingly, and that thick, unruly blond hair curling at his neck. His body was broader now, the hard muscles of his chest and shoulders much more developed, but those eyes were the same. So were the chiseled lines of his handsome face.
Grey. She could hardly believe it. Thomas had sent him to her after all these years, and he’d appeared like some dashing knight in shining armor. Yet as she fought back a sob of anguish, she knew she had no choice but to chase him away.
With grim resolve, she pushed herself away from the wall and hurried downstairs to the kitchen to find Yardley.
The woman had been with her for the past two years, arriving just after Andrew brought her to Snowden, when he decided the maid who had attended Emily since her debut was disrespectful to him and replaced her. Emily had been devastated. But the older woman was kind and gentle, and now Yardley was the only person in the world she trusted with her secrets.
“My lady.” Yardley nodded as Emily entered the kitchen, putting together a tray to take upstairs to the men.
“We’re having guests for the night,” Emily told her unhappily.
Yardley’s hand froze in midair as she placed a saucer on the tray. “Is that wise?”
“And who are they, my lady?”
“Major Nathaniel Grey and his man.” Emily hesitated. How on earth did one describe Grey? “The major is…an old family friend.”
But he was far more than that. Even at sixteen, she’d realized how special Grey was. Dashing and kind, he possessed a fierce determination to carve out a brilliant career for himself, and a handsome presence that caught the ladies’ attentions. With her, though, he’d simply captured her heart. Yet to her chagrin, he’d paid her no more mind than a piece of furniture…until that one afternoon in the garden.
“A family friend, eh?” The suspicious glance Yardley slid her as she placed a teacup onto the saucer told her that the woman didn’t believe her.
“It’s not what you think.” Yet she couldn’t stop the blush of embarrassment heating her cheeks.
The last time she’d seen him, the very last time—heavens, she’d been so foolish! She’d asked him to give her a kissing lesson so she would know what to do with suitors…or some such silly nonsense she barely remembered now. Yet her manipulation worked, and he’d kissed her. It had been the most magical moment of her young life, until her parents stumbled upon them. Amid angry shouts and accusations, Grey left Ivy Glen, with Thomas riding away after him. And two days later, she was sent to boarding school, where her parents hoped to keep her away from “upstarts” like the captain.
“Major Grey served with my brother in the wars,” she explained with more pride than she had a right to feel. Even after suffering the consequences of what she’d done that day, she couldn’t forget him and followed him the best she could through Thomas’s letters—her heart soaring with his heroics, laughing at his antics, even crying when he’d been wounded. She’d been so upset, in fact, that she wrote to his parents to assure them that he had friends in her family, only for the letters to return undelivered. “I trust him.” I think…
Yardley removed the water from the stove and poured it into the teapot, giving Emily a wary look. “Why do I suspect there’s more you’re not telling?”
She bit her lip and divulged with embarrassment, “When I was a girl, I fancied him.”
Yardley paused as she set the teapot onto the tray.
“It’s nothing to worry about now,” she insisted. She shrugged it away as the childish infatuation it was.
But it wasn’t childish infatuation that had just made her curl her hands around his lapels and attempt to pull him closer, that had her pulse racing and her body tingling in the most intimate places—
Silently, she cursed herself. It wasn’t Grey that made her behave like such a cake. It couldn’t possibly be him. Certainly, she’d gotten over her fascination with him years ago.
No, it was all the changes she was going through. All the lonely and fear-filled nights she’d endured. All the responsibility for the farm sitting on her shoulders. For the past two years, she’d run the property in Andrew’s absence, managed the tenants’ leases, and somehow made certain the servants were paid. Then she had to bury her husband and pretend to mourn. No one could go through that and remain unaffected.
So when Grey appeared this afternoon, a kind face from her past offering to help her, it was natural that she should yearn to be comforted, consoled, protected—God help her, she wanted to be wanted. Of course, it hadn’t helped that Grey had lain on top of her like that, the solid weight of him pressing down deliciously into her, or that the masculine scent of him filled her senses, the heat in his chocolate-brown eyes warming between her thighs…
Well, she thought with chagrin, perhaps she hadn’t completely gotten over him, after all. While he’d certainly not given her a thought in five years.
She ignored the twinge of vexation in her chest as she admitted, “He never paid me any mind then, and he won’t now.”
“Don’t be so sure, my lady,” Yardley warned as she wrapped a towel around the pot to keep it warm.
No, that was the one thing about which Emily was certain. Clearly, Grey remembered that kiss only for the temporary rift it caused with Thomas and the lingering animosity between him and her parents. But she’d lived with its consequences every day since, in a life of isolation and abandonment that affected her even now…only to discover that he hadn’t known any of the hell she’d suffered.
She’d never blamed Grey—well, perhaps she’d blamed him just a little bit. But truly, it had all been her fault, a childish stunt to capture the attention of a man with whom she’d been so infatuated that she hadn’t considered the consequences. And yet, while she regretted manipulating him and certainly regretted getting caught, she’d never once regretted kissing him.
“Why are they here, then?” Yardley asked, reaching for the spoons.
“My family sent him.” Emily took a deep breath to steady herself and not let fresh tears fall at the thought of Thomas. “He came to tell me that my…” She choked out around the knot in her tightening throat, “My brother is alive.”
“Oh, my lady.” Her bottom lip quivered, and Emily suspected Yardley might just cry, too. “It’s a miracle!”
She nodded slowly, then forced out with a smile, “Thomas has asked the major to escort me to London to see him.”
A teacup slipped from Yardley’s hand and smashed against the stone floor. Emily startled, jumping back a step, her hand reaching to cover her belly.
“Oh no!” Yardley shook her head adamantly.
Emily knew she wasn’t speaking of the broken cup. “Don’t worry,” she reassured her. “I’m not going with him, and I’ve told him so.”
But her heart tore at not being able to sit at Thomas’s side and hold his hand while he recovered. How much she so desperately wanted to do exactly that! But at what cost? To endanger her own life, the lives of her family, possibly even Grey—her father was a duke now, but even a duke and all his money wouldn’t be able to stop someone determined to harm them. Her heart ached with grief and fear. Dear God, how would she ever bear it if anyone was hurt because of her?
Doubt darkened Yardley’s face. “He doesn’t seem like the type of man who gives up easily.”
No, he certainly wasn’t that. In fact, she doubted Grey had ever waved a white flag of surrender in his life. “I’ll find a way to convince him to leave.”
“How?”
“I don’t know yet.” She lifted her hand to her mouth and worriedly chewed on her thumbnail. He had seemed so determined to keep his promise to Thomas, but she was just as determined to stay right where she was. “But I will.”
Yardley lowered her voice. “Are you going to tell him about your husband?”
“No,” Emily answered firmly. “And neither can you. Not one word, not to anyone.”
Yardley bent down to sweep up the broken cup. “You can trust me.”
At the hurt tone in her voice, Emily immediately felt guilty and murmured apologetically, “I know.” But sometimes she wished there was someone else she could confide in and trust besides Yardley. Ironically, someone exactly like Nathaniel Grey.
No. Not even he could know her secrets. Because then he would tell her family, and if her family knew, they would come for her to return her to London themselves, and then it would only be a matter of time until all their lives were endangered.
“We’re going on to Glasgow, just as we planned,” she said quietly. But her chest tightened painfully as she realized that meant she couldn’t see Thomas when he needed her most, that she might never see her brother ever again.
As if sensing her doubt, Yardley smiled reassuringly at her. “My sister will be right glad to have us with her. New place, new life…you’ll be safe there. No one will think to come looking for you there.”
Her shoulders slumped. She was suddenly tired, the energy vanishing from her limbs as a headache pulsed at her temples. Usually at this time of the afternoon she lay down for a nap, partly because she always tired after lunch, but mostly because she was seldom able to sleep well at night. Today, with the surprise of seeing Grey again, the fatigue swept over her in a wave.
Yardley frowned, placing a motherly hand on her shoulder. “Are you all right? You don’t look well.”
“I’m just tired.” She was so very tired, in fact. Tired of struggling on her own and not being able to turn to her family for help, tired of being so isolated and alone with only Yardley to confide in, tired of being frightened all the time…“I think I’ll go up to my room and lie down. Would you take the tea things into the drawing room for the men and give my apologies to Major Grey? They’ll need rooms as well, and please ask Phipps to stable their horses.”
“Aye, my lady. I’ll take care of everything.”
Emily smiled wearily. “I know you will.”
Yardley nodded over her shoulder at her as she lifted the tray and carried it from the kitchen. “I always do.”
Chapter Three
With a muttered curse, Grey gave up all hope of sleeping and rolled out of bed. He couldn’t get Emily out of his head.
He grabbed his trousers from the chair and yanked them on. The sweet girl he’d remembered from Ivy Glen was gone, and in her place was a harridan who claimed she was too ill to travel. A delay was possible, he supposed, if she’d been especially distraught over her husband’s death. But she certainly wasn’t behaving like a grieving widow. And after the way she’d begged off his company this afternoon and evening, he suspected that her bouts of illness were more convenience than convalescence.
Along Came a Rogue Page 4
