by Em Taylor
“Lady Beattie, that horse looks hungry. Do we have any food in the carriage?”
Emily caught the gleam in Gideon’s eye. Perhaps he was as soft-hearted as she.
“I did bring some bread, cheese and a little meat from the inn when we set off, this morning, my lord. Do you think the horse would like that?”
“I believe the horse is a beggar and cannot be fussy, my lady. Denholm, be a good chap and fetch it for us. Is it under the seat, my love?”
“It is.”
He nodded to the coachman who moved inside the coach to do his master’s bidding. Denholm appeared a few moments later holding a couple of large handkerchiefs filled with bread, cheese and meat as Emily had said. She always brought a little extra food with them in case they got stuck in the mud. Gideon had initially laughed at her for doing it, but he had come to agree that it was a sensible precaution.
Emily expected Gideon to continue to play the game with the boys and tease them, but their eyes were so large with longing when they saw the food, clearly her husband’s ire with the children crumbled.
“Go on then. Jack, you take something first, but leave something for your brother.”
Jack took a small slice of bread and some cheese and waited for his brother to take an equally small amount of food. Neither boy ate.
“What are you waiting for?” asked Gideon, frowning.
“Are you not eating too?” Gerald asked. “We must wait for the lady.”
“I am not hungry. You eat,” Emily said. “Please. Eat it all between you.” Gideon nodded and shook the food slightly at them. Gerald looked at his brother and shrugged then took a bite, closing his eyes as he did so. Poor little mites.
Gideon handed Gerald the closed handkerchief filled with food. “Go and sit at the side of the road, on the grass with Jack and eat.”
“They can’t sit there. It’s wet,” Emily protested.
“We’re always wet, my lady. We haven’t been dry for weeks. We’re fine sitting on the grass.”
It was Gideon’s turn to shrug and Emily gave a frustrated little sigh.
“Speaking of getting wet, you shall be getting soaking and I do not want you getting a chill. Get back in the carriage.”
Emily glared at him. “You don’t mind children getting soaked though.”
“They are urchins, my love. They are used to it.”
“They are babes.” He lifted her bodily and placed her inside the carriage then started to force his own way inside. “Oh, you are impossible. What if they were our children, Gideon?”
“Our children would not be attempting to be highwaymen.”
“Only because they will have better opportunities in life. That pure luck, Gideon. One child is born the heir of a viscount, another’s mother dies in childbed leaving him with a violent step-father who abandons him. It’s so unfair.”
Gideon ran his hand through his wet curls. He had left the carriage without a hat. His coat was wet through, his face wet and Emily could tell from the set of his jaw that his temper was frayed.
“No one ever said life was fair, my love.” Emily opened her mouth to speak but he raised a finger and she shut her mouth to let him carry on. “We cannot leave them here. They can ride in one of the grain carriages until they dry out and then we shall make sure that Denholm and John look after them in the servants’ quarters. I am sure on my vast estate, I can find work for a strong lad and we can put them both into school. Jack can help out in the kitchens until he is old enough. Perhaps he’ll be good with horses. Who knows. It is just as well for you that you married a Whig, my love. God knows how many arguments you would have had, were it a Tory whom you had kissed awake that fateful day.”
Emily smiled. “I could tell, even as you slept, that you were a kind and honest man.”
“You could?”
“Oh yes. You have a lovely face when you sleep.”
“And awake?”
“You scowl too much.”
“Only when you ask silly questions about exiled poets with questionable proclivities.”
“You stopped scowling soon after you explained that.”
“My mind was otherwise engaged.”
“Yes, it was.”
“Stop smiling lasciviously, Lady Beattie, here come the children.” Emily bit her lip and wished she did not blush so easily.
“Thank you, my lord,” said Gerald. “’Ave, you decided if Jack is goin’ ta hang too.”
Gideon climbed down from the carriage and told Gerald that neither of them would hang. He offered to take them back to Herefordshire and let them work on his estate, on one condition—that they go to the village school for lessons. Both boys bowed low and promised to behave themselves. Gideon put them in the smaller carriage that transported maize and Emily winced as she heard him threaten to shoot them through the head if they tried to escape. She looked at the pistols lying on their seat. She moved them gingerly and sat down then picked up both weapons.
When Gideon returned he raised both eyebrows and both arms.
“Whatever you want is yours, my lady. Gowns, jewels, gloves, hats, shoes, sexual favours.” She laughed as he stepped into the carriage. “I shall even do it like Lord Byron as long as you do not put a lead ball through my chest.”
“Write poetry?” she asked, handing him the pistols.
“I would be a terrible poet.”
“I have noticed.”
He placed the pistols under the seats after having un-cocked them
“Oh yes?”
“Yes. After all, what kind of poet would tell his wife that he loves her as he releases his seed into her body and then would not mention it until they were about to be set upon by highwaymen the next day?”
“The type of poet who loves his wife so much that he wanted her to be able to declare her love for him in her own time without feeling forced into it.”
“And if his wife does not feel the same way.”
“Then the poet would have to punish his wife for telling untruths because before the children stopped the carriage, the wife had just let it be known that she loved her husband.”
“Punishment?” Heat rushed to her core and her nipples hardened at the very thought. Emily glanced down at the falls of Gideon’s breeches. He had a veritable bulge there.
Gideon’s gaze roved up her body. They had been good since they had left Aelton Manor and kept their sexual activities to the inn bedchambers, but he was like a leashed wild animal now.
“Take off the pelisse, Emily.”
She removed it as he undid the falls of his breeches and released his cock into his hand, stroking it slowly as he slid down the squabs slightly until his knees touched the seat in front.
“There,” she pronounced sitting primly beside him but licking her lips as she looked at his hard length being expertly manipulated.
“Slide over here and straddle me. You shall need to hitch up your gown.”
It was a difficult manoeuvre in a moving carriage but Gideon held her steady as she adjusted her skirts.
“You have done this before,” she accused.
He grinned. “No, but I have had seven days on the way to Scotland and five days on the way back to figure out the logistics of how to do it. You do not suppose I was reading all this time, do you, my love?”
“You were working out how to tumble me in the carriage?”
“Y-e-e-es. You disapprove?”
“Not at all. I am disappointed it took you twelve days.”
He bit his lip as he tried not to smile. “You are a most impudent wife.”
“I believe you like your impudent wife, Lord Beattie.”
He held himself with one hand, raised her knee onto the seat beside him and guided her down so that she took him fully inside her. Emily sighed as Gideon groaned, almost feral. He caught her other knee up and guided it onto the seat. All the time, making sure she did not topple. Then he clasped her around the waist an
d helped her to ride him.
He pulled her face down to his shoulder.
“Correction. I love my impudent wife. Now keep your head low, my love. If you start banging your head on the carriage roof, firstly you will end up with an egg on your skull and secondly, Denholm will know what we are doing.”
“I suspect Denholm knows fine what we are doing,” she said as worked herself up and down his hard length.
“Possibly, but let us not leave him without doubt altogether.”
She chuckled and he turned his head and captured her lips.
Emily really did like being married, and she really did love her husband.
Chapter 21
Gideon was actually excited to be bringing his wife home. For a start, he could take her to his comfortable bed and make love to her for hours if he wanted. He would ring for his valet and her maid when he wanted to in the morning and he did not need to worry about anybody judging them or having to load themselves into a carriage.
Of course, he would have to drag his arse out of bed and away from her luscious warm body long enough to arrange the return of Whitsnow’s coaches. Also, to decide, along with his steward exactly what he could do with the meagre amount of food he had managed to bring south. The more he had thought on it during the carriage ride home, the more he had become concerned that this really was just a drop in the ocean.
However, it was something. His steward had said the crops had not all failed. There would be something and they had meat.
Getting through the winter would be difficult but it may not be impossible and Whitsnow had promised more food.
The carriage turned onto the long private road up to the manor in the centre of Beattie Park. Emily was practically bouncing in her seat. His hat was still on the seat in front, though Emily had on her bonnet and gloves in readiness to leave the carriage. He bent down to see under her bonnet and moved in to press his lips to hers. She squirmed away.
“Gideon, you will make my face all red and puffy with your day beard.”
“I thought you liked my day beard. I thought it was an extra sensation.”
Emily bit her lip but placed a hand on his chest.
“You can give me all the sensation you please once I have met the servants.”
“You have already met the servants.”
“As Lady Emily, a friend of Lady Rutherford. I have not met them as Viscountess Beattie, your wife.”
“Is this the same Lady Emily Beresford who was caught in a compromising position, kissing a viscount in his bedroom just over a fortnight ago.”
“She no longer exists.”
“So-o-o, Lady Beattie does not want her husband’s day beard anywhere near her skin from now on. I understand. I shall simply have to bend you over my bed, take you from behind, like a farm animal does, and never kiss you again. It is the only way to fill my nursery.”
“Gideon!” She was laughing as she punched him on the arm. He caught her balled fist and gave her a severe look.
“We discussed you punching me, Lady Beattie and your punishment.”
Her eyes flared with promised passion but shouts outside the carriage drew Gideon’s attention away from his now, obviously aroused, wife.
As they neared the Hall, he could see a crowd of people on the East side of the building—fist raised and shouting. They did not seem happy.
“Stay here,” he commanded Emily. He banged on the carriage ceiling and the vehicle began to slow. Before it was fully at a standstill, he opened the door and leapt to the ground, setting off at a run. He looked back to see Emily looking out of the carriage door, but she had made no moves to follow him. He gave her no further thought as he hurried towards the crowd.
“What the devil is going on,” he asked the vicar who was standing on the edge of the crowd.
“Oh, Lord Beattie, thank goodness you are here. I’ve tried to make them see sense but they are not listening to me. Perhaps you shall have better luck.”
“What’s happening, vicar?”
The man sighed. “Davy Matthews, Eddie Evans and Bill Veitch have been trying to stir up trouble in the village for some weeks now.”
“I heard rumblings of trouble before I left for Scotland. I did not know who the main protagonists were though.”
“They have been trying to gain others to join their cause, but most in the village are loyal to you. With the lack of food, my lord, it is becoming a problem.”
“Rev Lamb, please, why is everyone at my house?”
“Oh, I apologise, well, Matthews, Evans and Veitch decided you must be home by now so they brought a pistol and decided to come up here, confront you and demand that you do something. I’m not entirely sure what you can do. It’s not as if you can turn off the rain, but they found you from home. Instead, they stole food and took it home. They trussed up your poor housekeeper and kitchen staff.
When the villagers found out they marched them back up here en masse to untie your staff. Of course, the rest of your staff had found them and untied them, but now they want justice. They’re threatening to shoot them.”
“Shoot them?”
“Yes. I know they did wrong, but…”
Gideon held up his hand.
“Allow me.”
He started to push through the crowd. As people started to recognise him, he heard his name shouted and whispered around the crowd. When he made it to the front, he found Joseph Andrews, the pub landlord holding a pistol out and pointing it at Eddie Evans.
“Joseph, put the pistol down.”
“They trussed up my sister, my lord.”
“The vicar told me. They’ve done a terrible thing. They shall pay for their crime.”
“Too right they will. They’ll die.”
“Joseph, stop it.” It was Mrs Barrington the housekeeper and the sister of Joseph. “Put the pistol down. They only had me trussed up for a very short while. The other servants had me untied very quickly after they left.”
“Joseph, you do not want to shoot a man in cold blood. You shall hang.”
“I won’t, my lord. All these fine folks will say I was at the inn serving drinks. No one will be a witness.”
Gideon drew in a deep breath. “I shall be a witness and I shall be the one to choose your sentence. If I see you kill a man, I shall have no choice. Besides, would you have all these people swear an oath on the Holy Word of God and tell a falsehood?”
Joseph glanced at him and then back to Eddie. “They would do it. God would surely understand. Who trusses up four women and a young lad to steal food?”
“Someone who is desperate.”
“WE’RE ALL DESPERATE, MY LORD!” Gideon stepped back slightly as Joseph bellowed in his ears, but Joseph’s resolve was crumbling. Gideon could tell. The pistol was shaking and he glanced uncertainly at his sister who raised praying hands to her lips, pleading with him to listen to reason.
“I make no excuses for what they did, Joseph. They shall pay. Lower the gun.”
It seemed as though all the fight left Joseph in that moment. “I’m sorry, Lottie,” he whispered in the direction of his sister.
“Bring those men over here.”
The men were duly brought to him.
“I am going to sentence each of you to one month in the village prison and….” While he had been speaking there had been noise but there was now a deathly hush. He suspected it was nothing to do with his commanding presence. He looked to his side and his heart dropped into the pit of his belly. Cold gripped him at the sight of Emily held with a filthy arm around her beautiful throat and a pistol pointed directly at her head.
It appeared that the villagers had not tied up Davy Matthews particularly well and he had got free of his bindings. Joseph, in his relief at not being the one to kill other human beings, had let his guard down. Matthews must have taken advantage.
“I want to be let go with food and money. I want a carriage and a couple of horses. All three
of us want to go.”
“What about your families. You’re leaving them here to starve,” Gideon asked. He watched Emily closely. Her gaze was determined. Her lower lip trembled slightly but trust was the overwhelming emotion he read in her expression. She trusted him to get her back safely.
Devil take it. He was making this up as he went along.
“I… we… we’ll wait until someone gets them from the village.”
“That’s a terribly long time to wait.” Damn it, think man.
There was a slight tug on his coat tail and then his hand was pulled behind him and something cold and metallic was placed in it. A pistol. Was that Jack?
Instinct told him he was right, just at the same moment that he saw the scruffy messy brown hair of Gerald behind Emily’s shoulder. What the devil was the lad doing?
“Let Lady Emily go or I’ll shoot you. She’s been nice to me and my brother and if you shoot her, I don’t mind ‘angin’ to get rid of you. Drop the pistol.”
Gideon slowly lifted his own pistol and aimed it at Davy. “I won’t wait for you to shoot her, I shall just shoot you now. Drop it now or I shoot. Three, two. w…” the pistol dropped to the ground. Gideon dove for the pistol but Gerald kicked it out of the way. The vicar picked it up.
Gideon then grabbed Matthews around the feet and felled him, crawling up his body before planting him a facer with his balled-up fist. His other hand came up to punch the other side of his jaw and Davy grabbed at his face, yowling with pain. Gideon hit again. When he went to land the fourth blow, he was prevented. The smell of lavender surrounded him and she was clinging to his back.
“Gideon, stop! You’ll kill him.”
“He deserves it,” Gideon spat out.
“Maybe so, but you do not deserve to hang, my love.”
That pulled him up short. He rocked back on his heels and Emily stood, walking around him and helping him to his feet. She gave Matthews a little prod with the toe of her half boot.
