Two of a Kind

by Sasha Cottman

  Long nights he had lain awake thinking of her, imagining how wonderful it would be to hold her naked in his arms. How it would feel to run his hands over her body, make love to her, and watch her face as he brought her to completion.

  James dared not say anything of his thoughts aloud, but his lust-filled body was screaming. If only Leah had not mentioned the word ‘satisfied’. He fought in vain, but his cock hardened.

  He struggled to his feet, turning quickly away from her. The evidence of his arousal was plain before him. “I just remembered I need to speak to the landlord about the horse. Hold that thought and I shall return shortly,” he said.

  He staggered out of the room with undue haste, closing the door behind him. The bulge in his trousers was not the least bit amusing. He chided himself. He wasn’t a callow youth; he should be able to maintain his dignity around a woman.

  Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes. “Egbert, Aethelwulf, Aethelbald, Aethelbert, Alfred the Great . . .”

  Reciting the long list of English monarchs was an effective trick handed down to all schoolboys upon experiencing the first unwelcome signs of puberty. As his body softened and came back under his control, James gathered his thoughts.

  Last night he had been too tired to worry about his physical reaction to being close to Leah. Now he had a real problem on his hands. If he was to continue sharing the bedroom with her, he was going to have to deal with his lust. He had to come up with a new plan. One which didn’t involve her seeing the bulge in his trousers.

  He had only just managed to get Leah to somewhat trust him; he didn’t need for her to start thinking he was a sex-starved blackguard.

  A bright idea dropped into his mind. Since the innkeeper already thought they were a young married couple, it wouldn’t take much for James to convince the man of the need for him to sleep on the floor. Many a husband had been made unwelcome in his bed by an unhappy wife. That was a plausible enough excuse for him to ask for a spare mattress and blanket.

  He was halfway down the stairs to speak to the innkeeper when a second idea struck him.

  “Much better,” he muttered.

  Chapter Thirty

  “You told them I was with child and you had to sleep on the floor because I felt nauseous. Really? Was that the best idea you could have come up with?” said Leah.

  James had returned to their room with a soft mattress slung over his shoulder, and a blanket tucked under his arm.

  “The other option was to have told them we had a row, and that you refused to sleep with me. I thought that might be a tad embarrassing for us when we had to face them at breakfast tomorrow,” he replied.

  Leah rolled her eyes. Now she would have to deal with being fussed over by the innkeeper’s wife in the morning. Men and their pride.

  “I had to give the innkeeper some reason to hand over this mattress and blanket,” he said.

  By rights, as an unmarried woman she should have been well pleased not to be sharing a bed with a man. Not to be lying beside James’s warm, hard body. Not to suffer the indignity of him draping his muscular arm around her waist, nor of listening to his deep breathing as he slept. And especially pleased not to be taking in the heady scent of his cologne. All those things she now found herself secretly craving.

  She cautioned her heart. She had just escaped one near disaster—she shouldn’t go racing toward another possible one. Allowing a tender spot for James to form in her heart would be a foolish thing and could only result in having it bruised, or worse, broken.

  “You did the right thing, James. And tomorrow morning I will make sure I am a little tired and unwell if any kind soul asks. There is one thing which would make our story more plausible,” she said.

  “Yes?”

  “I need a wedding ring.” Her gaze settled on his signet ring. The amber flames from the low burning fire were reflected on the gold band. The signet was black onyx inlaid with a gold horse and three stars: the Radley family crest. A reminder of his family’s powerful, ancient heritage.

  He nodded, then removed the ring from his finger. With a smile, she held out her hand, and James slipped the ring onto the third finger of her left hand.

  “With this ring,” she said, then softly chuckled. Their gazes met. James leaned forward toward her, and for a moment, Leah imagined that he was about to kiss her.

  “Good night, wife,” he said.

  A lump formed in her throat as he pulled away. He had called her his wife. With an odd sensation in her stomach, she turned and climbed into the bed.

  James plopped the mattress down on the floor next to the bed and after taking off his jacket, he lay down. Within minutes, the sound of his soft snores could be heard in the room. Leah turned over and much as she fought it, fatigue finally caught up with her. They both slept the sleep of the exhausted.

  After the second night, they fell into an easy pattern. Each morning they would rise early and make as much headway as they could during daylight before seeking a village off the main road in which they could stay. By the fifth day out from London, they were close to the tiny hamlet of Mopus Passage where Leah’s grandfather lived. A small stone marker on the side of the road was the first and only sign of their destination. From the few other travelers they had passed on the road, James began to wonder just how small the village really was.

  “How many people live in Mopus Passage?” he asked.

  “A handful. The inn was built only a few years ago, along with a half dozen houses. That is the sum total of Mopus,” replied Leah.

  At least there was an inn where Leah could wait out of sight while James went on to Mopus Manor to speak with Sir Geoffrey. “Will you tell me why your father and Sir Geoffrey are not on speaking terms?”

  She nodded to him. “Things had been bad for a number of years, but the final straw was a little over two years ago when my sister got married. My grandfather thinks that she was forced into marrying a man just like my father. And to be honest, I would have to say I agree with him. Your friend Guy, my brother-in-law, and my father were all unfortunately cast from the same mold.”

  “So, Sir Geoffrey would likely be inclined to take your side if he knew the truth of what happened with your betrothal?” he asked.

  “I hope so. He is the only person I can turn to right now. If he fails me, I have no one else whom I can trust,” she replied.

  He could have argued that point with her but decided on leaving her remark unanswered. Today was a day for unity and giving Leah as much support as possible. From the way she kept wringing her hands, it was obvious she was nervous about what lay ahead for them.

  “Once we reach the village, I shall go into the inn and secure us a room. After we have you safely tucked away, I will head over to Mopus Manor and do a sortie of the house. If I find any sign of your father or Guy being in residence, I shall return immediately to the inn and we can discuss alternate plans. If they are not, I shall make myself known to Sir Geoffrey,” said James.

  “Agreed. And I will stay in our room until you return,” replied Leah.

  A little more than an hour later, they turned off the old Malpas Road and into the stable yard of the Mopus Passage Inn. Leah had pulled up the hood of her cloak and covered her face the same as she had done when setting out from London. James helped her down from the barouche before handing the reins over to the inn’s stable hands.

  “Don’t bring my trunk inside yet; we may not be staying tonight,” he instructed them. If Guy Dannon or Tobias Shepherd were waiting for them at Mopus Manor, he planned to take Leah and find an inn in the larger town of Truro which was only a few miles away. After that, they would be headed to Scotland as fast as possible.

  The inn was a narrow two-storied slab stone building of recent build. From the look of the rest of the houses in the village, Mopus Passage was a new settlement. Leah caught his questioning gaze.

  “During the war against the French, a number of small ports were established along the southwest coast to support the Br
itish navy. Smaller ports like this one took the bulk of the minor shipping traffic away from the major ports, enabling the navy to move its larger ships in and out of the south coast with ease,” she explained.

  “That makes sense.”

  Once inside the inn, they made their way upstairs. They locked the door of their room behind them and politely refused the offer of tea and locally baked pasties.

  “Mopus Manor is farther along this road, only a half mile from here. You cannot miss it. The main house sits on a bluff overlooking the convergence of the Tresillian and Truro rivers. The road leading up to the house has a small dip in it. A narrow track which runs around to the rear of the house strikes out from the eastside of the dip. If you take your horse up the track, you can approach the house without being seen. That will give you a view of the stables before you arrive,” said Leah.

  The stables would hopefully give James a clear picture of who was at the manor. Guy’s fancy travel coach with its gold striped details and red curtains would be easy to spot, although he doubted his friend would make the effort to follow his wayward bride to Cornwall. Leah had given James enough of a description of her father’s coach for him to be able to identify it if it was in the yard.

  The moment of truth had arrived. A nervous bubble sat in his belly, caused partly by his secret wish that the others were indeed waiting for them at the manor. If Leah could not reach her grandfather, then the only road left open to them would be the one which led to Strathmore Castle in Scotland.

  James would avoid knocking on the front door of Mopus Manor, and in doing so would keep Sir Geoffrey out of the family squabble. Instead he would return to Mopus Passage, pack up Leah and their things, and make all due haste to the Great North Road and Scotland. Once they were in Scotland, he could turn to the task of wooing Leah and then making her his wife.

  Just remember, Radley. You may want to marry her, but she has to accept your marriage suit of her own volition.

  He dusted off his coat, checked his pistol, and after making certain that Leah was comfortable and safe, he headed for the door. “Make sure you keep this locked until I return. I won’t be long.”

  His hand was on the door when Leah hurried over to him. She rose up on her toes and placed a hurried kiss on his cheek. “Good luck, James. I shall be waiting here for you.”

  After stepping through the door and onto the landing, James heard the door close behind him and the key turn in the lock. His hand settled on his cheek, right at the spot where Leah had just kissed him.

  “Well that was unexpected,” he muttered.

  He made his way down the stairs, the heavy clump of his boots matched by the loud thump in his chest.

  What he would give for her to be kissing him every day.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  James tied the reins of his horse to a clump of bushes and started to climb his way up the side of the rise which led to Mopus Manor. The low coastal shrubbery along the road afforded him little cover, so Leah’s plan for him to sneak around the back of her grandfather’s house was unfortunately not such a sound one. He would have to venture up the hill by foot and hope he could stay low enough to reach the top of the bluff and still remain unseen.

  He finally managed to make his way up and around to the side of the manor house without being disturbed. He could see the stables but needed to get closer in order to see what coaches and carriages were inside. He had just decided on how he could best make his way through the low bushes when the click of a pistol being cocked stopped him in his tracks.

  “This area is well known for smuggling, so we do tend to keep an eye out for unwelcome visitors,” said a voice from behind him.

  James put his hands up in surrender.

  Fuck. I knew I should have kept my pistol in my hand.

  “Now turn around slowly. Don’t make any sudden moves, otherwise you might find yourself with a hole in your head.”

  He did as he was told. His plans for the day did not include getting shot.

  When he finished turning to where the voice had come from, his gaze settled on a tall grey-haired gentleman holding a pair of pistols. Both pistols were cocked and pointed at James.

  “You are not very good at this secret agent lark, are you, young man? For a start, the handle of your pistol is showing in your coat pocket. Now, carefully reach into that pocket and pull it out. Slowly. Then throw it over into those bushes,” said the pistol-wielding gentleman.

  James did as he was told, silently praying that he would live to watch his former spy cousins, William, and Bartholomew, fall about laughing when he told them of this embarrassing encounter. He put his right hand back up in the air, alongside his left.

  “Now that I have done as you instructed, may I ask you a question?” ventured James.

  The gentleman raised an eyebrow. “If you wish to play it that way, please go ahead. But I would not make any sudden moves as you speak; these pistols have hair triggers.”

  “Are you from Mopus Manor, and if so, does Sir Geoffrey have guests staying with him?”

  A frown greeted his question. “That was two questions. But to hurry things along, I will indulge you. In answer to your first question, yes, I am from Mopus Manor. As to your second question, no, I don’t have visitors. I cannot recall the last time I did.”

  James’s shoulders sagged with relief, and he dropped his hands. A pistol shot rang out, and with a panicked cry, he quickly raised his hands again.

  “Bloody hell!” he cried.

  “The next one won’t miss,” said Sir Geoffrey.

  “My name is James Radley. My father is Hugh Radley, the Bishop of London. I have your granddaughter with me,” he replied hastily.

  Many times, he had resented hearing people note that his father was the Bishop of London. Yet the first time he found himself in any real danger, he had invoked the name of his father. If he managed to somehow not get shot today, he intended to be angry with himself.

  A trickle of nervous sweat slid slowly down his back. His heart was pounding like a drum in his chest. One of the pistols was lowered. Unfortunately, it was the one which Sir Geoffrey had already fired.

  “Which granddaughter?”

  “Leah.”

  Sir Geoffrey looked behind James, his eyes full of mistrust. “I don’t see her. Nor did you leave her with your horse. What have you done with my granddaughter?”

  James summoned up his courage. “If you could please stop pointing your pistol at me, we might be able to discuss this a little more civilly.”

  The loaded pistol remained pointed at him. “I shall be the judge of what is civil and what is not,” said Sir Geoffrey.

  James sighed. “I have her hidden someone safe. She fled London to avoid being married off to someone she did not wish to wed. I was the best man for the wedding and accompanied her here. I was trying to ascertain as to whether her father or the jilted groom were waiting for her at your home.”

  A soft chuckle carried to him on the wind, and to his immense relief, the second pistol was lowered and un-cocked.

  “I don’t think you can still call yourself the best man if you have stolen the bride.”

  James’s brain was too frazzled with fear to laugh at the obvious jest.

  “So, what you are trying to tell me is that you intend to deliver my granddaughter to me. And you, being a sensible young man and the son of the Bishop of London, decided to do a quick sortie of the area surrounding my home just in case that arse wipe Tobias Shepherd had beaten you here.”

  James nodded. “In a nutshell, yes.”

  “Well then, you had better come with me and we shall go and collect Leah.”

  “How was I to know he was a decent young chap? He was hiding in the bushes over yonder. He should be grateful I didn’t shoot him on sight. The shot I let off was aimed wide; he has nothing to grumble about.”

  Leah peered out the window of her grandfather’s study and gave James, who was sitting outside in the garden, a look of pity. Poor Ja
mes. It had taken several hours for the color to return to his face after the incident with her grandfather.

  James, fortunately, had recovered his humor, and after retrieving both the carriage and Leah from the village inn, he was now sitting in the afternoon sunshine, enjoying a second glass of spirit-restoring French burgundy. Leah had already apologized a half dozen times for her grandfather’s gun-wielding greeting. And while he had accepted each one of her apologies with good grace, she still felt terrible over the thought that not only had two pistols been pointed at him, but one had actually been fired.

  James took a sip of his wine before setting the glass down. He had retrieved one of his sketchbooks from his travel trunk and was now patiently drawing an outline of the low rock wall which ran along the edge of the garden.

  With his jacket lying on a nearby chair and his shirtsleeves rolled up, she was granted the sight of his strong muscular arms. The pencil held in his long fingers moved over the paper with comfortable ease. James was in his element.

  There was an odd sense of sadness in them having reached their destination. The days spent on the road with James had seen her come to view him in a new light. In her mind, he had confirmed himself as a kind and decent man. What the sight of him now did to her body was an entirely different matter.

  An aching desire for him stirred within her.

  Sir Geoffrey came and stood by her side at the window. She smiled at him, relieved that after weeks of planning and an at times frightening flight from London, she was now here at Mopus Manor. When the knock had eventually come at the door of their room at the inn, it had startled her. Her heart was all aflutter when she’d heard Sir Geoffrey’s voice on the other side of the locked door.

  Tonight, she would be able to lay her head on a pillow and hopefully not wake in the middle of the night fearing that her father was downstairs talking to the owner of whatever inn they were staying at and inquiring about a young woman traveler.