She could not abandon them.
Unwilling to leave the animals trapped in the barn, Lilly rushed about, opening stalls and encouraging them to escape. They too, would have their liberty.
Fearing she’d wasted too much time already, she frantically returned to the enclosure holding her chosen mount and unlatched the stall door. Stepping on the slats, she climbed to the top of the wall, took hold of the mane, and then swung one leg over the horse’s back.
She did this as calmly as possible. It had been nearly a decade since she’d ridden. She didn’t wish to spook the horse, for already chaos abounded outside and she was a strange rider.
“It’s all right, sweetheart. You and I are going for a ride, that’s all. I’ll take you far away from that bad man.” Lilly spoke in a soothing voice and gently allowed her weight to settle on the horse’s back.
Instinctively, she gripped the mare’s flowing mane and urged the horse forward and toward the door. As soon as they exited the barn, Lilly headed down the long drive.
Afraid of being thrown, but even more fearful of someone stopping her, she urged the horse from a canter into a full-out gallop. “Good girl,” she said, squeezing the mare’s girth with her legs. She continued talking to the horse. “Let’s get out of here, but please, please, please don’t throw me!” She hadn’t ridden since Edgewater Heights those many years ago—and that had been with a sidesaddle.
She only knew she must travel as far as possible, as quickly as possible. But to where? She hoped they were headed in the right direction.
Not really knowing what she was doing, she allowed the horse to run freely for what seemed like a very long time. When they finally slowed to a walk, every bone in her body felt as though it had been jarred loose.
But she’d kept her seat. She’d not fallen off!
When a thunderous roar echoed behind her, Lilly glanced back and saw the entire manor engulfed in flames. But that was not all. The tree she had used for her escape had caught fire. It had fallen onto the stables.
Thank God she’d left the barn doors open. The horses inside had fled in all directions.
As the roof collapsed onto the manor, Lilly patted her horse’s neck. “Well done, my lady. Now let’s get out of here.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Rescue?
After changing their horses in Reading, Michael and his men found the going slower after turning onto the less-travelled route to Maple Hall. Muddy and full of ruts, the condition of the road required the mounts to pick their steps carefully. Slowed but not deterred, Michael tamped down his frustration until something unusual caught his eye.
Off in the distance, an orange glow lit the horizon.
“Lilly.” Michael mouthed her name.
A shiver ran down his neck as he realized the pungent scent hanging in the air was smoke.
And then, like a mirage, he spied a lone rider in the distance approaching. He remembered the young grooms who had assisted him and John the last time they had been there and hoped they were safe. The fire appeared to have engulfed several of the estate’s buildings.
“Oh, God, Lilly…” he whispered raggedly into the darkness.
Rightly suspicious of the rider up ahead, John and Arty both pulled out their pistols.
“Ho, there!” Michael called out roughly. “Hold up!”
The rider seemed to consider them for just a moment before turning off the road and racing into the woods.
“Oh, hell, he’ll kill himself and his horse running in this mud.” Arty put his pistol back into his waistband.
Michael wasn’t sure, but he’d thought he’d seen a flash of silver-white hair in the moonlight as the rider turned. Pulling his reins to the right, he spurred his own horse into the darkness in desperate pursuit. It had to be her. He couldn’t bear the thought of a world without her ever again.
“Lilly!” he hollered. “Lilly!”
At first, he thought the rider would try to elude him, but then the horse abruptly halted and the rider slid to the ground.
“Lilly!” he called out again and then nearly cried when she turned in his direction.
“Michael!”
It was her. His heart raced. With his eyes locked on the glint of her hair, he urged his horse forward until her shadow took shape.
The clouds moved in just that moment, and the moon lit the field. Beside the horse, on the ground and covered in mud, sat Lilly.
She lifted her arms toward him. “Michael.”
He dismounted his horse in one easy motion.
Not quite believing he’d found her, he forgot about the mud, lost his footing, and fell headlong in the darkness.
Breaking his fall with one arm, he caught hold of her with the other and together they lay in the mud. “Thank God! It is you! Are you hurt?”
She was covered in mud, laughing at him and crying at the same time. Michael ran his hands along her arms and waist, assuring himself she was all in one piece.
She touched his face in wonderment as though assuring herself that he was real. “I’m fine. Oh, Michael! You are here!”
With a surge of intense relief, Michael took her face in his hands and pressed his lips to hers almost violently. His tongue pushed through her lips hungrily as though she were an oasis to a dying man.
She was alive. She was safe!
Lilly grasped the back of his head in her muddied hands and pulled his face closer still. Their teeth gnashed, and she explored his mouth with equal longing.
Abruptly, Michael leaned back and looked into her eyes. “Did he hurt you, my love? I should have killed the bastard!” His eyes burned. He fought back tears of anger and relief.
Lilly, somewhat clumsily, sat up in the mud. “No, I am f-f-fine. When I saw you, I tr-tr-ied to get off my h-h-horse and fell instead!” She began trembling. And then a sob shook her.
Michael wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight. Rising to one knee and planting one foot firmly on the ground, he put one arm under her knees and pushed himself to his feet. Careful not to slip again, he placed Lilly upon his horse, in front of the saddle and then pulled himself up behind her. All the while murmuring soothing words.
The other horse didn’t have a halter, so it was impossible to pull along. Luckily, the mare followed of her own accord. Michael allowed his mount to carefully find his footing as they headed back to the road. Arty met them halfway.
“It is Lady Beauchamp?” he asked in surprise when he realized the duke wasn’t alone.
Michael nodded and indicated they head back toward Reading. “Ride ahead and reserve some rooms at the inn. Then hire a carriage for the trip back to London tomorrow morning.”
“Right,” Arty said, looking stunned that the baroness had managed to get away with no assistance from them whatsoever.
John jumped from his mount and placed a makeshift lead on Lilly’s mare so he could pull her safely behind. But then his eyes lit up as if a thought occurred to him. “If we traveled back by carriage tonight, Your Grace, you could make it to Westminster Palace in time to vote.”
“No,” Michael said, “Lady Beauchamp needs rest. She’s in shock, I think.”
Michael kept tight hold of Lilly, aching each time he felt a tremor run through her body. “You’re safe now, love,” he murmured, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “We’ve a short ride ahead of us, but we’ll get you cleaned up and tucked into a soft bed as soon as we get to Reading.” He pressed his lips into her hair. “Lean into me, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” He couldn’t believe they had found her. Or that she had found them, rather.
Lilly stirred. “Your vote? Your vote is tomorrow?”
“It’s no matter.” Michael dismissed her concern. “You aren’t up to traveling tonight, and I’m not about to let you out of my sight.” He chuckled ruefully. “This day has taken ten years off my life.”
“Arty!” She sat up so quickly her head knocked him in the chin as she yelled after his driver. “Get the carriage for tonight. Let’
s get the duke to London in time for the vote.”
Arty, having turned back when he’d heard her call, merely tipped his hat before resuming his errand.
Aware of the man’s propensity to carry out Lilly’s orders, Michael knew exactly what he’d find when they pulled into Reading. Arty would be awaiting them with a carriage and fresh horses. Night travel was difficult but not impossible. The moon was high and full. With some luck, it just might be possible to make the vote.
“Are you certain you’re up to it?” he asked her. It seemed impossible to still make the vote. And yet, with Lilly in his arms, he was beginning to believe anything was possible.
“Absolutely! We can rest in the carriage.” She snuggled back into him. “Now, tally ho and all that nonsense. Let’s get a move on.”
Michael laughed and spurred his horse forward. After only a few steps, Lilly perked up again and began telling him everything that had happened.
“I didn’t mean to leave for so long!” she explained. “But they wanted me to marry Danbury! Danbury! Can you imagine? But I was planning to return, and then Hawthorn told me Aunt Eleanor had suffered an attack! She did not really, did she?” At Michael’s reassurance, she continued. When she informed him the earl had shot the footman and then pointed the gun at her, Michael tightened his grip around her. “It was horrible, Michael, but I couldn’t dwell upon it. He’s crazy, the earl, but I got him to untie my legs, and then…” She told him of the tree, and the fire, and the horses. “And then I found you, and now we are going to get back to London so you can make your vote!” She’d turned into a bundle of energy, and by the time they arrived in Reading, she seemed, once again, her normal self.
Every time he imagined what the outcome could have been, he had to force the scenario out of his mind. This day could have ended in a very different way!
But it did not.
It had not.
As Lilly slid off the horse into Michael’s waiting arms in Reading, he noticed for the first time her unusual attire. She wore a man’s britches! And they hugged her firm behind in a way no dress ever would.
Being with her, touching her, was almost unreal. She was safe. She was alive. And now he was certain, she would be his.
Adjusting his own trousers, Michael climbed into the rented carriage and closed the door behind him. The cabin lurched a bit as the coach began to move. Reminded of the bags Lady Eleanor had sent along, sitting on the floor, he reached for one and tossed it on the bench next to Lilly.
“Are you hungry, love?”
Lilly returned his gaze with a devious grin. She was a seductress, this mud-covered urchin of his.
He laughed softly. “For food, my love. In the bag.”
And then her stomach chose that moment to make a growling sound.
They both laughed this time. “Don’t make fun.” She blushed as she opened the pack. “I haven’t eaten all day!” When she pulled out some bread and cheese and a flask of wine, Michael realized he too, was famished.
Handing the wine back and forth, together, Lilly and Michael finished off the crusty bread and pungent cheese in a comfortable silence. By some crazy chance of fate, she was given one more night alone with her love. They were both exhausted, however, and filthy.
Michael stuffed the leftover bread back into the bag and then moved across the carriage to sit beside her. Wrapping one arm around her shoulder, he reclined them both against the side of the carriage while keeping one foot on the floor for support.
His hands covered hers, which rested upon her stomach.
If she told him she thought she might be carrying, he would never let her go. She had to force herself to remember the reasons this wasn’t a good idea. What were those reasons? His honor, a duke’s honor, to his people, to his betrothed. She could have him for herself, but in choosing her, he would sacrifice that which he lived to uphold, in the name of his father and all those other dukes before him.
She mustn’t take that from him.
Instead, she moved her own hands to cover his…so his now rested on her still flat tummy.
This was most likely the closest he would come to touching their child—if one existed. She smoothed her palms over his strong long fingers. Oh, to be like this with him forever. Lilly did her best to stay awake. She didn’t want to miss even a minute wrapped in his arms.
She drifted off moments after he did.
****
Michael awoke when the sounds of street venders and other carriages rumbling along intruded on his dreams. They were pulling into London just as the sun was rising. John and Arty had made incredible time. Michael’s hands were under Lilly’s shirt, and he couldn’t resist tenderly caressing her warm skin. As she stretched like a cat, Michael allowed his fingers to drift downwards until he was threading his fingers through tight curls.
Her breathing hitched. Oh, yes, she was awake now.
She was his. She would always be his.
He teased and massaged her warmth, feeling his own breaths quicken as he did so.
“Good morning,” he whispered, nipping at her tiny ears. She made a soft mewling sound as his fingers moved slowly, in and out of her most tender of openings. He knew exactly what she liked, what she needed. How had they gone so long without one another?
Moving more purposefully with him, she turned her head and searched for his lips with hers. Aroused, but intent upon her satisfaction, he kissed her languidly, thoroughly. Their breath, tasting of the wine they’d drunk the night before, mingled. As he continued his motions with his hand, Lilly wound one arm around his neck. She clung to him but also arched beneath his touch. Her tongue mimicked the motion his fingers made as she thrust it in and explored his mouth.
She held back nothing of herself from him. It had always been this way.
Although aroused and hard, Michael pleasured her enthusiastically until she broke down, shaking, and pushing herself into his hand. And then, gasping, she let her head fall onto his shoulder.
Ah, yes, ah yes. So beautiful, his Lilly. Michael kissed the side of her face, her neck.
He never wanted to move.
Until, that was, he realized they were heading down Whitehall directly for the palace.
Good God, the vote! As he tensed, Lilly’s eyes flew open, and she too apparently realized they were travelling along a very public route in the center of London. Scampering off him at the same time the carriage hit a rut, Lilly landed in an ungainly heap on the floor. Looking up at him, she appeared startled and then burst into laughter.
And Michael laughed with her.
How could one not laugh? She was alive. They were together. And he planned on righting the wrong he’d done nearly a decade ago.
Lilly tightened the rope around her breeches, climbed back onto the bench, and with the napkins left over from the packet they’d devoured the night before, brushed at the mud on his face, in his hair, on his shirt…
Michael stilled her busy little hands.
“I have a change of clothing in my office,” he assured her when she tried to swipe at another chunk of mud. And then he stared into her eyes. “Whatever happens today, will happen.”
“You’ve worked so hard for this…”
But he shushed her. “The most important thing in the world to me, right now, is in my arms.”
She looked all of seventeen again wearing a shirt several sizes too large, with tangled hair about her flushed face. Her lips were full and lush though. Ah, yes, he could believe they had just made love.
The carriage had sat, unmoving, now for several moments. Michael knew John must be standing outside. “I’ll come to you as soon as the vote’s over. You’re not to worry about anything.” He reassured her one last time before kissing her hastily on the lips. He’d not leave her right now for anything, but it was at her insistence they were even here, in London. “Wish me luck?”
Lilly took hold of his face and pulled him into her desperately. “You won’t need it.” She said against his lips. And then with
one last kiss, she released him. “Now, go!” Her eyes were bright, but her smile encouraging. Feeling alive again for the first time in years, Michael leapt out of the carriage and rushed into Parliament.
Chapter Thirty
Déja Vu
Lilly felt disoriented. She knew, since the vote was being held that very morning, that some issues had been resolved, but others had not. Nobody pressed her with the necessity of meeting with Danbury, nor did they mention Glenda’s endangered betrothal.
Instead, she’d arrived at her aunt’s home to an abundance of hugs and kisses and profuse apologies from her niece. She had barely mentioned that she would appreciate a quick bath before Glenda had run to the kitchen and ordered one made up in Lilly’s room. Her aunt had wrapped her in a blanket to cover her scandalous attire from the servants, and then lovingly escorted her upstairs.
“Oh, darling, I am so happy you are not harmed! When we heard Hawthorn had taken you and there had been gunshots, we were hard pressed not to imagine the worst. But you are safe, and everything is going to be fine! I am so happy.” And then her very stoic and enduring aunt burst into tears. “Ignore these, my dear. I am just so happy you are not harmed!”
It was Lilly’s turn to embrace her aunt. She was the one person in the world who’d never failed her. “I love you, Aunt. I am so sorry to cause you worry.” Sitting on Lilly’s bed, they held each other and cried softly. Miss Fussy was not to be left out. Frantically wagging her tail, she jumped at Lilly and attempted to lick away every tear. And she would not be dissuaded. Lilly finally hugged her little dog tightly, settling her down. Both women were laughing as Glenda came marching in ahead of the maids and footmen to fill the tub.
“Enough of that,” Glenda said.
The women dabbed at their eyes and smiled ruefully at each other.
“Aunt Eleanor, how can you sit by her? Lilly, you smell as if you have been rolling in manure. Come along, Aunt.” She dragged Aunt Eleanor toward the door. “Let’s leave Lilly to her bath and the soap—plenty of soap!” Holding her fingers as though to plug her nose, she peeked around the door and smiled at Lilly. “I am so very glad you are back, Lilly, even if you do smell like something dragged in from the stables!” And then she left.
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