Hope gasped and took an involuntary step back. Clearly Mr. Cochrane-Johnstone had arrived and, as she feared, he wanted her dead. She very much doubted he wanted to kill her for what she knew—he had already been incriminated, after all—but rather, his murderous intent was based on the fact that she was the one that had incriminated him.
Then she heard his voice and leaned in once again to hear his rationale behind her forthcoming demise.
“There is nowhere you could send her where she could not cause trouble, Stuckeley. What do you plan to do, watch her every minute of the day to ensure she does not post a letter, or befriend someone into sending a message for her, or any other manner of ways she could contact someone with the power to see us all hanged?”
“But with the right husband in an appropriately isolated land. Perhaps a country where she does not speak the language…? Surely she does not have to, ah, die.”
“Stuckeley, you knew going into this that this was a dangerous business. Have I not just handed you an obscene amount of money? You said you needed the money for your family. Your new family. What difference will it make to your plans if your eldest daughter is dead rather than simply out of sight and mind? It would, in fact, save you her dowry expense.”
Hope held her breath as she waited for her father to answer.
“That’s sick,” Mr. Stuckeley replied forcefully. “As you said, I wanted this for my family…all my family. I love Hope more than anything. She is the only reminder I have left of her dear mother. Now, I agreed to a far-off marriage, but killing her? I will not stand for it!”
“Yes, of course,” Cochrane-Johnstone agreed immediately. “I don’t know what I was thinking. She is your daughter, after all. I acted in poor form.”
Hope could practically feel her father’s relief. So he really did love her. She could almost forgive his actions in the face of that much needed revelation.
“Very well, then. You will continue with our plan to find her a suitable husband?” she heard her father ask.
“Of course, of course,” Cochrane-Johnstone assured Mr. Stuckeley. “Now then, you go on and wait downstairs while I consult with my men on the best…er…way to deal with this situation.”
Hope didn’t hear any response, but she guessed her father gave his assent before he turned to leave. She could hear his footsteps fading away as he left her in the hands of a madman.
“Ah, sir?” one of the other men asked. “I’ll marry the chit, if you’re looking.” He laughed raucously with another man.
“Oh, do shut up,” Cochrane-Johnstone replied sharply. “Go after Stuckeley and kill him. The plans with the girl have not changed. Tonight, father and daughter will both find their maker.” Father, Hope thought for one desperate moment before whirling around and looking determinedly at the window. Now she had no choice…it was time to face her fear.
Moving quickly, Hope ran to the window and opened it as high as it would go. Leaning out, she quickly assessed her escape route options. As she remembered, there were no trees nearby. Taking a deep breath, she looked down at the bushes below her. They grew densely together and could probably cushion a fall, if she were desperate, but they were also of the prickly variety and she could just imagine getting so caught up in them that she would have to strip off all of her clothes just to get out in one piece.
No, there had to be a better way…and that’s when she saw it. A ledge, about eight inches wide, running down the whole length of the house.
The mansion was Georgian in style, which meant it was basically a great big, very symmetrical, square box. This worked in Hope’s favor, because that probably meant the ledge ran around the entire second floor. And, God willing, there would be at least one tree growing close enough the house for her to climb down somewhere on the other side of the house.
Knowing time was of the essence, Hope closed her eyes and said a quick prayer. Then, as if she weren’t deathly afraid of what she was about to do, she swung her legs over the sill of the window.
…
Michael had circled the large house at least a half a dozen times gathering information about possible ways to get to the second floor unseen. There weren’t many options, and to make matters worse, on his last trip around, he saw Cochrane-Johnstone arrive. Throwing that man into the mix would only bode ill for Hope.
Luckily, the man’s arrival allowed Michael a better chance to follow the candlelit path to wherever they were keeping Hope. None of the rooms upstairs showed any light, and Michael had not yet been able to discern her location.
Watching the windows light up as the new arrival passed up the stairs, Michael could see that he turned to the west side of the house. That meant that Hope was probably in one of the rooms on that side of the mansion.
That cut down his options considerably.
Also, there were no trees on that side of the building. As far as he could tell, there was only one way up to the second floor from outside, and that was to scale the only tree growing near the house—at the back of the mansion, near the servants entrance—and make his way around to the west side of the building on the narrow ledge he could just make out from the ground.
That didn’t pose much of a problem for him, but getting Hope from her room to the tree was a bit more of a process than just dropping her a foot or two out a window. Still, Michael didn’t see as he had much choice.
Walking around to the side of house where he believed Hope was being held, he tried to judge the distance they would have to traverse to reach the tree. And that was when he saw Hope, clinging for dear life to the rough-hewn stones making up the outer walls of the mansion.
She was sobbing with every step and appeared to be making her way along the narrow ledge with her eyes…shut. The silly girl was feeling her way across the face of the building.
“She’s going to get herself killed,” Michael muttered, but at the same time, he was bursting with pride that she had taken it upon herself to escape by a means almost worse than death to her. She had to be the bravest person he had ever met. And she was going to be his wife, he thought fondly.
Assuming they both survived this farce of a getaway.
Running as quickly and quietly as he could, Michael reached the tree and scaled it in record time. Stepping with ease onto the ledge, he could now see that it was nearly as wide as his foot was long. It made for a very steady perch, and the coarse stones of the wall in front of him provided ample traction for his fingers. If he didn’t know about the paralyzing terror gripping Hope, he would have laughed at the ease of the task before them.
As it was, he wanted to approach her calmly and with anticipation of her alarm at seeing him so suddenly, so that he could prevent any unexpected accidents or stumbles.
Michael quickly reached the corner of the building and when he looked around the edge, he could see that Hope was just a foot away from him.
Reaching out to steady her should she need it, Michael said softly, “Hope, I’m here.”
…
Hope opened her eyes in shock and practically jumped out of her skin when she found herself looking into eyes that could only belong to Michael, her love. Eyes that should not have been there…on a ledge…two stories up…in the middle of nowhere.
“Am I dreaming?” Hope whispered. Perhaps she had fallen and died after all. Lord knew that was the only thought that had been running through her mind the whole time she was edging along the narrow ledge of her own personal hell. Don’t fall and die; don’t fall and die; don’t fall and die.
“No, sweetheart, you are not dreaming,” Michael replied with a smile.
“How…how did you find me?”
Chuckling, Michael said, “That is a long story I think best saved for another time. We really should be going.”
Remembering the precariousness of their situation, Hope readily agreed and, with Michael’s help, they quickly made their way to the tree and down to the ground. It was remarkable how much easier the second half of the ledge-walking was wi
th Michael by her side.
Then, just as Michael took Hope’s hand, ready to run to where he had tethered his horse, they heard Cochrane-Johnstone yelling, “What do you mean she’s afraid of heights? That is your reasoning for not securing the window? You imbecilic, moronic…!”
Hope and Michael didn’t stay to hear the rest of the tirade, but instead hurried through the brush and trees to his mount. Michael swung up into the saddle first then, reaching down, he swept Hope up to settle in front of him.
Grabbing the reins in one hand and holding Hope firmly with the other, Michael wasted no time in galloping as far away from the dilapidated old house as fast as he could.
It was then they heard the gunshot.
Chapter Twenty-six
It’s amazing how much strength one can gain from being loved.
~The Duke of Lancaster
After racing at full speed for ten minutes or so, Michael began to see the streetlights of Mayfair glowing in the distance. They were leaving the country behind and returning to the safer, more populated area of town. Slowing, as to not draw undue attention, Michael kept to the quieter streets as he made his way to Lady Lancaster’s.
Hope hadn’t said a word, and now that they were moving at a more sedate pace, Michael could feel her shaking uncontrollably. He wasn’t surprised. Having been abducted, her life undoubtedly threatened, and facing her fear of heights…he was amazed she was even able to remain upright. Frankly, if anyone deserved a bout of hysterics, it was Hope.
“Are you all right?” Michael whispered in Hope’s ear, embracing her even more tightly.
Hope began to nod, but then shook her head and, covering her face with her hands, she started to cry—big, wracking sobs—as the reality of what had happened, what could have happened, finally sunk in.
They were still many blocks away from the Lancaster Manse when they passed the street on which Lichfield Lodge was situated. Concerned about Hope and unable to comfort her as he would like, Michael didn’t even take the time to consider the ramifications of his actions as he turned his horse toward home.
Minutes later, Michael was handing his reins off to the stableboy as he held the still weeping Hope in his arms. Ignoring the looks of his staff, Michael carried Hope into his ancestral home and up to his private chambers. Dismissing his startled valet, Michael laid Hope on his bed and, lying beside her, he gathered her up into his arms and simply held her, willing his calmness, warmth, and love to envelop her.
…
Hope burrowed into Michael’s embrace, trying to feel safe, trying to forget her ordeal. During their flight from her captors, she couldn’t help but think how narrowly she had escaped death. Both from Cochrane-Johnstone and her daring second-story getaway. And she broke down. The fear, and exhaustion, and her father’s betrayal all built up inside her until she couldn’t help but burst with it.
Now, however, wrapped tight in Michael’s arms, Hope was numb. She felt nothing. It was as if her spirit, her very soul, had fled her body for a safer, less corporeal existence. And she was left empty.
She thought about how much she would have missed if she had been killed…getting married, having a family, growing old with Michael. The need to cling to that dream now was overwhelming and she was overcome with the need to feel something, anything, with this man she loved so much.
Needing a physical reminder that she was alive, Hope reached blindly for Michael and pressed her lips to his and began kissing him with unrestrained passion.
But then everything changed. Hope broke off her frenetic kisses and buried her face into the warm crook of his neck. She wrapped her arms about his waist and clung for dear life. She breathed in deep and felt her body relax with her long exhale. The shaking subsided and her tears stopped.
Pulling back slightly, Michael brushed a few damp strands of hair away from her forehead and said, “Feeling better now?”
Hope looked up at Michael with her eyes still wet from her recent tears, and she blushed.
“Yes, thank you. I apologize for my forwardness. But I needed…needed…” Hope laughed self-consciously. “Well, I don’t know what I needed, exactly, but the, ah, kissing helped.”
Michael smiled. “You are more than welcome to kiss me anytime, my love. No apology is ever necessary for that.”
Turning her head away shyly, Hope noticed for the first time where they were—or where they weren’t, as the case may be.
“Michael,” Hope asked hesitantly, “where are we?”
“We are in my chamber…at Lichfield Lodge. It was close and you were so upset. It seemed the logical place to bring you.”
“But Michael,” Hope whispered. “The scandal…what if someone saw us?”
“No one saw us…well, aside from my servants, but that hardly signifies.”
“Hardly signifies…?”
Hope looked at him, horrified.
With a deep sigh, Michael cupped Hope’s chin and said, “Hope, we are practically an engaged couple. And after everything we have been through lately, we are as good as married as far as I am concerned. We will make it official as soon as I can arrange it. Any whispers that may get out about this rendezvous will fade the moment you become my wife. There truly is nothing to be upset about.”
Hope considered Michael’s words and wanted to believe him. Her old fear of bringing shame upon Michael’s good name bloomed briefly, but then it dawned on her…bringing her here was his idea, not hers. He was responsible for this particular scandal, and if he was not worried about its effects, then why should she be?
And they were as good as married in her mind, too. She had made a commitment to him the minute she saw him on that ledge, all that was missing was a silly piece of paper. And in the grand scheme of things, a little slip of paper seemed such a small thing. It was time to show the man she loved that she was all his…in every way.
As Hope considered that thought, all her maidenly outrage and overwhelming need to be proper faded away. She felt liberated and unencumbered. How exhilarating was it to be spoken for, loved, and covered by the infallible protection of a husband…a viscount husband, no less. The freedom she felt made her feel positively wanton…and daring.
Hope glanced up at Michael from beneath her lashes and smiled slowly, wickedly. With her arms still wrapped around his waist, she traced the muscles of his back with her fingertips. She explored every dip and valley and reveled in the feel of him. She loved the way his muscles jumped and contracted with her every touch. She could hear the rapid beat of his heart and noticed the way his breath became shallow, more ragged.
And she felt powerful.
…
“Hope?” Michael gasped as his body reacted to her unpracticed, but extremely effective caresses. If he didn’t know any better, he would think she was trying to seduce him.
“Yes, Michael,” Hope purred, leaning up to press soft kisses against his cheek, throat, and jaw.
“W-w-what are you doing?”
Hope batted her lashes as she smiled again. “I would have thought that obvious, Michael…I am loving you.”
“But, but…ahhhh.”
Michael couldn’t even finish his thought as he felt Hope’s tongue dart sweetly into his ear. Did she even know how good that felt? Probably not, he thought wolfishly, but perhaps she should find out. Because while Hope was just acting on instinct, Michael knew exactly what he was doing. And if making love was her intent, he was more than happy to oblige.
In one swift movement, Michael turned them both over on the bed until he was laying half on top of her. Capturing her hands in his and pinning them firmly on either side of her head, Michael looked at Hope heatedly and said, “Are you sure this is what you want, Hope? Because once we start, I will not be able to stop.”
Looking back at him with equal intensity, she replied, “I have never wanted anything more than I want you, Michael Ashmore.”
Fiercely aroused by her words, her look, and her actions, Michael took control of their lovemaking.
Releasing her hands, Michael began untying, unhooking, and unfastening anything he could get his hands on—both on her and on him—all the while, kissing Hope with passion-filled, passion-inducing kisses.
Michael was on the verge of losing his patience and was ready to rip the gown off of Hope’s lithe and writhing form when finally, the last of the stays came loose and he was able to lower the garment to expose two of the most beautiful breasts he had ever seen. They were large and round and tipped with the most rosy nipples…and they just begged to be tasted.
Leaning down, Michael pulled the first nipple into his mouth and groaned with the pleasure of it.
Hope screamed at the sensation.
“Mich—” she gasped before losing all ability to be coherent.
Hope’s mewling and moans were enough to drive Michael mad, and if he didn’t enter her soon, he felt sure he would expire then and there.
Working by feel alone, Michael changed his focus to Hope’s other breast while he lifted her hips up to slide her dress and undergarments the rest of the way off of her. When she was gloriously nude, he turned his attention to his own clothing. Much more familiar with his own gear, he was able to disrobe with very little interruption to his continued ministrations to Hope’s magnificent form.
His lips returned to hers as he spread her thighs and his fingers went in exploration of her most private area. When his hand brushed over the small patch of protective curls, Hope jolted in surprise, but Michael pressed on. Moving his fingers lower, he slipped one inside her and nearly lost all control when he felt her clench around him, so wet, so ready.
“Oh my G—” Hope cried, stopping just short of blasphemy.
“Shhh, love,” Michael crooned soothingly, “I’m just checking if you are ready for me.”
Hope closed her eyes tightly before wailing softly, “I am ready for…something, Michael…I just don’t know what.”
Michael chuckled. “You are ready to be made love to, my dear, and that is what I plan to do.”
Nodding frantically, Hope just begged, “Please, Michael, please.”
Tempting Her Reluctant Viscount (Entangled Scandalous) Page 20
