by Rebecca King
Of course he is. Just keep telling yourself that he is only a companion and one day you might believe it, a small voice chided her.
She was fooling herself. She had known the man for less than a day yet it already felt like she had known him all of her life. It was shocking just how hurt she was at the mere thought of being at odds with him, especially after all they had shared. Battling tears, Rose looked across the table.
Their eyes met. Barnaby’s knife dropped unnoticed onto the plate, the heavy clatter not heard by either of them. The atmosphere thickened as the tension grew until it became almost palpable. Rose had never noticed just how startlingly sensual his gaze could truly be. That particular shade of blue tinged with grey was hypnotic and seemed to draw her in.
“Rose,” he growled in warning. “Don’t look at me like that.”
Rose’s stomach flipped over, but she didn’t break eye contact. “Like what?” she whispered.
Determined to thwart the adoration in the look she levelled on him, Barnaby launched out of his chair. Ignoring its heavy clatter behind him as it toppled over he leant over the table, grabbed her roughly by her bared shoulders and hauled her upright at the same time that he slammed his lips onto hers. Hauling her tightly against him wasn’t enough because she returned the caress of his mouth with equal fervour. It was not the response he had been looking for. His intention had been to worry her into not wanting to tempt things she wasn’t able to cope with.
She is untried God damn it, she shouldn’t be looking at me like that, he thought as he hauled her roughly around the table and into his arms. If he scared her a little, and made her warier around him then that would stop the loving looks and gentle concern, and help him put some much needed emotional distance between them, wouldn’t it? He certainly hoped so because he was taking a gamble right now. If his scare tactics didn’t work, he was well and truly sunk.
Rose clung to him and allowed him to plunder. She made no protest when his kiss became more forceful and deeper, and moaned low in her throat when her body was suffused with molten warmth.
He shifted and allowed her to feel the very physical evidence of his desire.
Intrigued, she pressed closer, unsure what she was asking for. Some instinct she had never known she possessed knew that whatever it was that raged inside her, only Barnaby could ease it. Unmindful of her nakedness she released her hold on the blanket and held on to him instead.
Barnaby held her tighter to try to prevent the downward slide of the blanket when he felt her hand slide seductively across his shoulders. Clamping the material firmly in place by sliding one arm across her back he felt it tug downward anyway. Groaning at the feel of her bare flesh beneath his fingertips he swept her off her feet and stalked across the room.
Rose barely touched the narrow confines of the bed before she was pressed into the hard surface by his weight when he followed her down. She welcomed him with loving arms and barely noticed the blanket slithering away to reveal her nakedness. For now, Barnaby was her protection – in more ways than one.
“Tell me to stop,” he demanded when he found the strength to lift his head.
“Stop,” she whispered half-heartedly because that is what he had asked her to do. She then did what she wanted to do. “Don’t stop,” she pleaded.
When Barnaby merely looked steadily at her, she captured his head in her hands and dragged his head back down to hers. At first, she thought he was going to object because he hesitated, but only for a fraction of a second. Rather than kiss her longingly the way she wanted him to, he placed a single kiss on her lips before he rested his forehead against hers.
“You don’t know what you are asking,” he murmured. “We can’t do this. I can’t offer you anything.”
He wanted her – more than he had wanted any woman for a very long time yet he still couldn’t bring himself to offer her the things he knew she should demand from any lover. She should expect hearts and flowers, not a brief tryst in an isolated hut while running away from London’s seedy underworld.
“I am not asking you for anything,” Rose whispered. Something within her began to break free and crumble but she wasn’t sure what it was. The reluctance in him was something she had not expected to see and it was humiliating. “You were the one who dragged me here, remember? I didn’t ask to come with you.”
“I know, but I have to keep you safe, Rose. It is my job,” Barnaby replied. He winced when he realised how that sounded.
Rose felt heat flood her cheeks and knew then that her humiliation was complete. She hadn’t even known what she was offering, but he had rejected it. Suddenly, the way they were lying so intimately became considerably less pleasant than it had been a moment ago. It now felt awkward and uncomfortable. The hard boards beneath the straw bedding bit painfully into her back. The coarseness of the rough blanket offered her no comfort now that she was cold. Deep inside, a wintry chill settled around her heart that Rose suspected was never likely to thaw. Unsure what to do to cover her awkwardness and not make a bad situation worse she began to look for the blanket.
“Rose,” Barnaby murmured gently.
“I have lost the blanket again. I need to see if my dress is dry,” she said silently telling him that she didn’t want to discuss this.
I don’t know why he thinks I would want to talk to him about his rejection. He doesn’t want me. What else is there to discuss? Rose thought. When tears began to sting her eyes, she squirmed in earnest beneath him, eager to get free.
While this response was the one Barnaby needed to be able to maintain a more professional distance between them, to see Rose crying was awful. He wanted to offer her some sort of comfort but knew it would lead to a lot more than a few hugs if he did. He daren’t even try it.
“We barely know each other, Rose,” he reminded her. “Why, this time yesterday we hadn’t even met.”
“I know,” she replied. “I don’t know what came over me.”
“It is just worry, fear, and the fact that we are alone together, that’s all,” Barnaby assured her gently. “It is the wrong reason to allow things to go further between us. Maybe once we know each other a little better you will see things differently.”
Rose nodded even though she knew that was not likely to happen. The questions she had asked him hours ago still remained unanswered. After this she didn’t think she could bring herself to ask him anything else. She suspected he still wouldn’t answer. He didn’t seem to want any kind of connection with her, and that was deeply upsetting because she did.
“It is fine,” she said offering him a brave smile that quivered ever so slightly at the corners. “It’s fine.”
Barnaby sighed and rolled off her to sit on the edge of the bed. He remained with his back toward her for a while to give her time to cover herself with the blanket.
“Do you need help to get back to the table?” he asked wryly as he studied the pile of unused blanket on the floor beneath her feet.
“No, thank you,” Rose whispered. “I can manage.” Bending down, she picked up the trailing ends of the material and draped them over her arm almost regally before she glided toward the fireplace. Her dress had blessedly dried enough to put on without her catching influenza.
“You can’t put that on,” Barnaby protested.
“It is fine,” Rose assured him.
“No, Rose. You need to wear this disguise. The men we encountered last night will recognise that dress from a mile away. You need to wear something else.” Barnaby handed her a clean set of clothes and nodded toward the bed area of the tiny hut. He didn’t wait to see if she would put the clothes on. Instead, he picked up his plate, ambled over to the window and stared outside while he waited for her to get dressed.
Now that she was alone, Rose allowed herself the luxury of allowing a few tears to fall. Doing so released some of the tension hidden beneath the surface. Unfortunately, it was considerably harder than she realised to stop them again, dry her cheeks, and plaster an insincere ex
pression on her face, but she did and squared her shoulders militarily as she turned to face the room again. The trousers Barnaby had brought were far too long, but at least they were warm and, together with the shirt and a thick woollen cloak, covered any trace of the innocent young woman who had been accosted at the ball last night.
“Right,” Barnaby said forcefully once she was dressed. “Let’s eat and then we will get some rest. We will wait until night-fall and then make our way to Portsmouth.”
Pleased to have something else to think about other than the hurt lingering around her heart, Rose took a seat and began to eat the food she didn’t taste.
“Why wait until night-time? Won’t it be even more dangerous out there if we can’t see where we are going?”
After what had happened, Rose knew she had to stop looking toward Barnaby for everything. She had to start to assert herself, and was determined now to challenge his plans if she didn’t feel they were right for her. She had no idea where this pseudo-bravado was coming from, but if it gave her the strength to face the next few days in his company without revealing her inner heartbreak then she would embrace it.
“It is safer to travel at night. The clothing I have brought for both of us is black. While shrouded in black material we can move about without being seen. We can be in Portsmouth by morning if we keep moving. I have secured us two horses in the village, and need to take this one to the tavern on our way out of the area. Then we can be on our way.”
Seeing no reason to object to his plans, Rose nodded and began to eat, all the while blatantly ignoring the awkward tension that now lay between them.
CHAPTER NINE
Later that night, when dusk had bathed everything in an orange glow, Rose left the cosy confines of the small hut. While it had been a welcome relief from the chill of the night air, she was glad to leave it behind. The memories she had of the place were less than welcome, and something that had changed her relationship with Barnaby forever.
“Do you want to walk to the village or ride?” Barnaby asked as he led the horse out of the lean-to.
“I will walk,” she replied eyeing the heavy boots on her feet. It was the first time she had ever worn such items. They felt heavy and cumbersome. It would be a blessed miracle if she didn’t fall flat on her face. She could only hope she didn’t have to run anywhere. At least they would keep her feet warm and dry.
“Let’s go.” Barnaby closed the door to the hut and followed her.
He had tried several times over the last hour to find some way of breaking the uncomfortable silence. Rose had only become increasingly conservative with each response she had given him until the last question he asked her had been answered with nothing more than a shrug.
Once outside of the tavern, Rose stood in the shadows and watched Barnaby disappear into the yard with the horse. Moments later, he emerged with two huge animals, both of which danced excitedly on the end of the reins Barnaby held loosely in his hands. Rose’s stomach dipped at the thought of having to ride one of them by herself. She had never done anything like it before and wasn’t sure where to start, but absolutely refused to ask Barnaby what to do. Instead, with her chin tipped up defiantly, she waited until Barnaby reached her and began to check the girth and stirrups. When he was done, he stepped back and looked at her.
“Just step into the stirrup and swing yourself up if you can,” he suggested gently.
Rose sat atop the huge animal and was too immersed in fear to pay any attention to Barnaby until he moved his horse to stand alongside her.
“We need to go this way,” Barnaby whispered with a nod toward the end of the road.
“Why are we whispering?” Rose breathed. “Chadwick isn’t likely to be around still, is he?”
Her eyes widened when Barnaby nodded.
“Really?” Rose frowned. She didn’t believe it but didn’t want to argue with him.
“Never assume. Someone as dangerous as Chadwick is won’t give up easily. He won’t just allow us to walk free. We have watched him kill someone and can put him in jail for double-murder. He won’t give up.”
“Have you seen him?”
He couldn’t lie to her and slowly shook his head. “Take it from me, I know men like Chadwick. He won’t leave until he has found us. He will be more determined than ever to catch us now that we thwarted him last night.”
Rather than remain in the area and chat any longer, he nodded to the road they needed to take. “Come on. The sooner we get there the faster we can find somewhere we can get warm and dry.”
He didn’t say as much to her but he had very little in the way of funds on him now that he had purchased the two new horses, their clothing, and food. Thankfully, they still had enough food left to be able to eat while they rode but it was going to be a very long night, especially if Rose didn’t want to talk to him.
“It looks like it is going to rain,” Barnaby sighed as he glanced at the star-lit sky.
Rose nodded but didn’t even bother to glance upward.
Barnaby studied her downcast expression and wished he knew what was going on in her head. He had been right to do what he had but couldn’t explain it to her without sounding conceited. He knew she was hurt but how he went about easing that pain while keeping his distance was anyone’s guess. He had never been one to be too bothered by a woman’s delicate sensibilities. It had never bothered him before what any woman of his acquaintance had thought or felt about anything. With Rose, though, this rather subdued side to her was completely unlike her normal self that it bothered him more than he cared to admit.
“Are you alright?” he asked when he couldn’t stand the quiet any longer.
Rose looked at him. “Yes thank you,” she replied politely. She wasn’t sure what else she could say.
“I know you are tired but this will all be over soon. Then you can rest and get warm at last.” He offered her a wry smile, but it wasn’t returned.
He wished now that he had succumbed to the need that had pummelled him in the hut, even though he knew it was foolish to do so. However, it was too late to go back now. What was done was done. She was hurt, that much was obvious, but he needed to keep watchful and alert if he had any chance of keeping them alive. He couldn’t be that if his attention remained focused entirely on her and what they had shared in bed.
“We need to swap this horse,” Barnaby murmured after several long hours of painful riding. He frowned down at the animal and knew something was amiss.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t think it is all that well. It is not as lively as it should be and keeps stumbling over things. If we have to run anywhere my chances aren’t all that great on this. We need to swap it at the village over there.” He nodded to a small hamlet to the left of them. It would mean them taking a slight detour but it was worth it if they both had horses they could rely on.
“How long will it take us to get to Portsmouth?” Rose asked when they were nearly at the houses.
“We will be there before daybreak. We will wait until the docks get busy and then make our way into town,” Barnaby said.
Rose stared straight ahead. She hated to ask, but he seemed to expect her total compliance in everything – well, almost everything – the least he could do was tell her a few details about himself. Irked a little at his complete lack of trust in her, she pierced him with a look that pinned him to the spot.
Barnaby lifted his brows and braced himself for the inevitable.
“Who are you?”
He blinked and looked at her. “Pardon?”
“Who are you? You seem to know a lot about this underworld thing and don’t seem to want to tell me who you are yet you expect me to embark on this journey with you and trust you with my life. How do you know so much about criminals in London?” Their eyes met while she talked. “Who are you?”
At first, Barnaby had thought she was asking about him, the person, but she wasn’t. She only wanted to know how much danger being in his presence put he
r in. It was a little disappointing to his ego if he was honest but at least she was talking to him.
“My name is Barnaby Stephenson,” he said after several moments of thoughtful silence. “I work for a government organisation called the Star Elite. We are based at the War Office, but of late our work has taken us out into the Shires, and we now have men located in the counties working on all sorts of crime.”
“Like this Chadwick person?”
“Yes, Rose, like this Chadwick person. During the war, we helped locate numerous French spies who had been smuggled into the country. The Star Elite managed to disband a quite ingenious network of smugglers from all walks of society who were providing the spies with false identities, accommodation, and even money. When the war ended, we turned our attention to other types of crime like serial murders and that kind of thing. Then, about two years ago, our boss in the War Office began to hear grumblings from numerous members of the aristocracy in London that they had been burgled. Not just anything was taken though. Just some – not all, but some – valuable jewels disappeared. We were asked to investigate, and a pattern emerged. Not just in how the crimes were committed but with the types of items that were stolen. The burglar walked past some extremely expensive paintings and objet d’art, and stole specific gems and jewellery sets. We have traced a network of crooks who all seem to work for one man: Terrence Sayers. He is nothing more than an East End crook, but is good at what he does and has earned himself a formidable reputation.” He looked at her and realised she had no idea what he meant. “The East End of London is dockland. It is full of ships, and has many sailors, vagrants, and foreigners coming and going constantly. It is a poor area; quite disreputable in fact. It is not the type of place someone like you should ever go anywhere near unless you are catching a ship overseas. Otherwise, steer clear because criminals like Sayers thrive there. He has numerous people, some of whom grew up in deprived circumstances like him, on his payroll. They are all out to make quick cash at someone else’s expense and don’t mind if they have to commit crimes to get it.”
