More than Tempted (Scandal Sheet Survivors Book 1), page 3
He felt a prickling on his scalp.
A rippling down his spine.
“Hence why you’re nervous about taking this minor risk with me.” Thankfully, he did not believe the soothsayer’s nonsense. “I can’t imagine you ankle-deep in pig muck, Miss Langley. Let’s pray your mystic is wrong on all counts.”
“Would you like to know what she told Miss Ferrington?” Her tone brimmed with amusement. “My poor friend hasn’t looked at a gentleman in the same way since. I shall give you a clue. Mina shuts her eyes tightly whenever she enters a room.”
He was more mesmerised by Helen’s smile than the intriguing prophecy. “Might she identify her future husband by the tone of his voice?”
A laugh burst from her lips. “No, she will see her husband’s buttocks before seeing his face. Mina has considered donning a blindfold and using a walking stick to navigate the ballrooms.”
Laughter was contagious. For the first time in months, he forgot that Charles Holland wished to ruin his name and drain him dry. “Perhaps she will stumble upon a lord with his breeches to his knees, piddling behind the potted fern.”
“We spend so much time hiding behind the fronds, we’re sure to catch some fellow in the act.” A tear trickled down her cheek, reminding him of the day he had almost dared to kiss her.
The memory proved sobering, and he was forced to watch her dash the droplet away while trying to catch her breath.
To distract his mind, he moved the blind and established they were already heading to the Queen’s Elm tollgate on the Fulham Road. At this rate, they would be at the Saddlers Inn before amorous thoughts threatened to consume him.
“You don’t have to hide in the corner,” he said softly, though he was glad he didn’t have to watch her dance with other men.
“Clearly, you know nothing about the rules of disgrace.”
“Feel free to enlighten me.”
She sat forward, excited by the prospect of educating him. “First, you must spend a month at home, dine on gruel and receive no visitors. Then you may attend social functions but only because the ton reserves the right to cut you dead in the corridor.”
Her situation provoked his temper. “Tell me the names of those who insulted you, and I shall humiliate them in turn.”
“The way you humiliated Mr Parbrook?” Her gaze dropped to his pristine cravat. “The night you showed me the savage hiding beneath those impeccable clothes?”
“I behaved like a brute, yet I am not sorry.”
Satan had possessed his mind and body. He might have killed Parbrook had Helen not grabbed his arm and been the voice of reason.
“You behaved like a warrior when I am used to seeing the restrained gentleman. I find the contradiction intriguing.” Her eyes softened, and she placed her hand over her heart. “I have never thanked you for defending my honour. You acted in Sebastian’s stead. Risked your life for me. For that, I will be eternally grateful.”
Sadly, it was not her gratitude he wanted.
“I pray I never see you in distress again.” He doubted his heart would take the strain. “Next time, I’ll probably murder the devil.”
Perhaps that was the answer to his problem. To escape the noose, he would flee to a monastery in France and spend his days in seclusion. He already lived like a monk—it had quickly become apparent he could not bed another woman while his heart was engaged—so it would be no hardship.
She frowned. “You really are a conundrum.”
“How so?”
“You’re always so tense. Even when you dine with us in Grosvenor Street, you don’t laugh like you used to. You rarely show any emotion. Yet that night at the Hamptons, anger exploded from you like a raging volcano.”
Every suppressed thought and feeling had burst from him that night. He had punched Parbrook when he wanted to punch Sebastian for being the voice of his conscience.
Be the brother she needs.
Ease the burden of Michael’s passing.
“A gentleman must have many strings to his bow,” he said, skirting around the real reason he would die to protect her. “He must be respectful, be an objective voice amid the chaos. But to defend his family against aggressors, he must rely on primitive instincts. Therefore, to be a gentleman, one must be a savage.”
“Is that why you train in pugilism? Sebastian said you have the strength and skill to tackle three men.” The hint of admiration in her voice warmed his blood. “Mr Parbrook had a lucky escape.”
Nicholas had to release his frustration somewhere. Jackson’s establishment was too tame for him, too much prancing and not enough punching. He liked brawling with rogues, risking his life. Yet, ironically, he was powerless in his fight with Charles Holland.
“A man never knows when he might need to defend himself.”
Despite falling silent, she observed him with unnerving intensity. He could almost hear the cogs in her mind turning.
Then, as if she had solved a confounding riddle, Helen’s mouth curled into a confident smile. “You have a secret, Mr St Clair.”
He had more than one.
“What makes you say that?” His laugh sounded hollow.
“You’re more guarded than normal.” She narrowed her gaze. “And I heard something in your voice when you spoke about defending yourself. The merest hint of resentment and anger.”
He feigned arrogance. “You have a vivid imagination, Miss Langley. Perhaps my reservations stem from worrying about us being found alone together in a closed carriage.”
Her eyes widened. “But you said no one would know.”
“That does not negate the risk.”
The air became instantly fraught with tension.
She moved the blind a fraction and peered out. “Thank goodness. We might relax a little, for we have reached open countryside.”
“Our problems will arise once we reach the Saddlers Inn.” What if it took Sebastian hours to find Parbrook? What if some devil had sent him on a wild goose chase? “Someone may recognise your brother’s crest and attempt to gain an audience.”
Helen touched her throat. “Then we should wait on the roadside half a mile from the inn. If Sebastian is on horseback, he’s bound to see us.”
“But a passing carriage will assume we need assistance. We’re not the only guests journeying to Grayswood Folly.”
“No,” she said with a sigh.
“Maybe you want someone to see us, Miss Langley. Then you can persuade Sebastian to let you venture to the land of the Pharaohs.”
An image entered his head, an exotic tent nestled in the hot, rolling desert of the Nile valley. Helen stripping off her clothes amid the stifling heat and drawing a damp muslin cloth over every inch of her bare skin.
Bloody hell!
“He’s more likely to force me to marry the first man who’ll have me than let me do anything so adventurous.” Her deep exhale carried the weight of regret.
“I doubt that’s true.”
“Sebastian changed when Michael died. It’s as if a part of him died, too. He blames himself. It’s why the whole scene this morning makes no sense. He would never put business matters before my welfare.”
Guilt flowed like poison in Nicholas’ veins. “He knows I will protect you with my life.” Sebastian’s compulsive need to punish Parbrook had left them in this tenuous position.
“Because you see me as family?” she said curiously.
“In a manner of speaking.” In his dreams, she bore his name and slept in his bed. “I would never presume to replace Michael, but Sebastian needs my friendship and counsel. His bravado is a mask to hide his grief.”
Hence why Nicholas held his tongue. Why he put brotherhood before his own needs. After suffering a shocking betrayal, the worst of which he had only recently discovered, nothing was more important to him than loyalty.
“Yes, he is lucky to have you in his life.” She paused to moisten her lips, to torment him further. “We both are.”
Nicholas wasn’t sure if he had imagined the last comment. Just as he wasn’t sure if the carriage had picked up speed. Was his heartbeat thundering in his ears, or was it the sound of horses’ hooves pounding the dusty road? Did this woman make him dizzy with need, or was the vehicle lurching to the left?
He knew it was the latter when Helen gripped the overhead strap as one might clutch the reins of a wild stallion. Her face turned ashen. Her eyes grew wide and fearful.
“Good Lord!” She gasped. “Do you think Jenkins is ill?”
Nicholas raised the blind closest to him. Hellfire. They were teetering dangerously close to the edge. “What the devil is wrong with the man?” Had the fool been taking secret swigs of liquor? One small swerve would send them plunging twenty feet down the embankment.
Jenkins’ muffled protests reached their ears.
He reached across and raised the other blind, stunned to see a black vehicle veering towards them, the coachman whipping Jenkins, not his team of four.
What in blazes!
Nicholas reached beneath the seat, quickly opened the cupboard and removed the mahogany box containing a brace of pistols.
“Surely you’re not going to shoot the coachman!” Helen cried when he raised the lid. “We should lower the window and attempt to reason with him.”
“One does not reason with a madman.” He steadied his hand and tried to pour the powder into the pistol’s muzzle, but the carriage rocked violently on its axis. “Doubtless he’s intent on robbery.”
“In broad daylight?”
The villain wasn’t afraid to take risks.
That made him unpredictable.
“Study the vehicle,” he said, rushing to load the pistol. “Are there any passengers? Get a good look at the coachman. You will need to describe him later.” Assuming they survived.
Helen gathered her wits and pressed her face to the glass. That’s what he loved about her. She wasn’t a simpering miss but an intelligent woman capable of dealing with the unexpected.
“The blinds are drawn,” she said, panting with fear. “It’s impossible to tell if there’s anyone inside. And the coachman looks like the gruff fellows one hires from the Crown Inn in Whitechapel.” A startled gasp tore from her throat. “Wait! There is someone inside the carriage. I saw a hand at the—”
The conveyance pitched wildly left.
There was no time to lead an offensive.
Nicholas threw the unloaded pistol back into the box. He grabbed Helen’s hand and pulled her to the floor. “Quickly. Crouch down between the seats like this,” he snapped, taking the same position. “Hurry! Clasp your hands over your head and brace yourself.”
“For what?”
“For the impact. We’re about to plunge sideways down the ravine.”
Chapter Three
Nicholas St Clair’s strong hands moved over her body, sliding from her ankles to her calves to her thighs. Then his firm fingers captured her chin, tilting her head as his warm breath breezed across her cheek.
Kiss me, she whispered silently, anticipating his taste.
She had repeated those words often in her dreams yet always woke as his mouth hovered an inch from hers, feeling hot and damp and desperate.
“Miss Langley?” came the smooth voice she could identify amid a thousand men. “Helen? Can you hear me?” He muttered a curse when he received no response. “As God is my witness, someone will pay dearly for this.”
She should speak, reassure him, but her mind was hazy, her bones cold as the grave as she lay stretched corpse-like on the ground.
“I—I’ve managed to free the horses, sir,” said the groom in a harried voice. “Spartan has a gash to the flank what might need a stitch, but there ain’t no bones broken, thank the Lord.”
“Has Jenkins regained consciousness?”
“Aye, sir, but he’s got a lump the size of a plum above his left eye, a few whip marks to the cheek, and his ankle hurts like a hound has taken a bite. What of you, sir?”
“Doubtless I’ll have a few bruises, but I’m fine. Here, let Jenkins finish my brandy. It will help dull the pain for an hour or two.”
Helen opened her eyes to see Nicholas giving her groom a silver flask.
The groom gestured to the overturned coach. “Do you think the fellow meant to kill us, sir? He came charging up the flank at breakneck speed and swerved into us without no warning.”
“If he meant to kill us, he would have waited to finish the job. Did you notice the carriage at the turnpike? Were cross words exchanged? Did Jenkins rouse the man into a violent rage?”
“No, sir. The devil came upon us like a wraith in the night. His eyes were as black as Satan’s soul, I tell you. There was no mistaking his wicked intentions.”
Why would anyone want to force their carriage off the road?
It made no sense.
Kneeling so close their thighs touched, Nicholas glanced at her and saw she was awake. “Miss Langley! Thank heavens!” He moved to cup her cheek, but his hand froze an inch from her face. “Are you hurt, in pain? Can you move?”
“I—I am just a little dazed.”
“Forgive me, but might I examine your eyes?”
She nodded, her heart beating a wild rhythm in her chest as he lowered his head and lifted her lids.
Eyes as blue as a tropical sea peered into hers. “Follow my finger,” he said, and she looked left and right as instructed. Then he asked to inspect her ears for traces of blood, his fingers touching her lobes, his skin pressed to her skin. “Do you think you can stand?”
No, her knees would likely buckle from the strain.
“I can try,” she breathed, torn between wanting to throw herself into his arms, but knowing she should maintain some distance.
He came to his feet and brushed grass and twigs from his trousers before offering his hand. “Let me help you.”
His hands were as elegant as his clothes, his fingers long, nails neat. His touch was always gentle, yet the visible veins and the scar on his knuckle conveyed immense strength.
She stared for a few seconds, grateful she wore gloves. Still, that did not stop heat racing up her arm when their palms touched.
“Lean on me if you must,” he said, pulling her to her feet.
Pain was often reflected in one’s expression—unless one was a master at hiding their emotions—which was surely why he studied her face for longer than necessary.
“Are you sure you’re all right?”
She smiled. “Yes. I’m fine.” No doubt her legs would be littered with bruises in the morning. And the infernal ache in her chest never went away.
Nicholas reached up and plucked a leaf from her hair. “Amid the panic, and while checking for injuries, I tossed your bonnet into the undergrowth. I’m afraid it’s crushed. On our return to London, I shall purchase a new one.”
“Pay it no mind. It was old and needed replacing.” It was new, but if Nicholas bought her a hat, she would never take it off, not even to bathe.
“You have a small bump on your head,” he said, pointing to the place that throbbed a little. “There’s a tiny graze. Nothing serious.”
Helen pressed her fingers to the lump, aware he must have examined her thoroughly while she slept. Annoyed with herself for missing it.
Needing a diversion, she scanned the verdant fields that stretched as far as the eye could see. There were no houses, no men out working, just animals grazing. “What are we to do now?”
Nicholas thought for a moment. “We find somewhere to rest while your groom rides to the Saddlers Inn and waits for Sebastian.”
“But there isn’t a house for miles.”
A snort escaped him. “I was thinking of an empty barn or stable. You cannot be seen alone with me, Miss Langley.”
“Could we not remain here?” She motioned to the wreckage. It would serve as a temporary shelter. “With Jenkins’ help, you could right the carriage and we could wait inside. Sebastian won’t be far behind.” It would not take him long to gather figures and compose a letter. He was as intelligent as he was stubborn.
“And have the demon driver return to finish what he started?” Nicholas’ suspicious gaze flicked to the road. “Why push us over the edge if he didn’t mean to kill us?”
She suppressed a wave of alarm. “When his temper cools, no doubt he will feel very foolish. It must have been a misunderstanding. A case of mistaken identity.”
Why would anyone want to harm them?
Then a host of terrible thoughts struck her. Did Sebastian have secret gaming debts he couldn’t pay? Were his creditors out to scare him? Find the money or pay the penalty?
No, else he would not have increased her dowry.
Did the opposers of the mining scheme want rid of him? Had he stayed behind believing he was a target?
No, he’d given the impression he was journeying with them.
Still, something was definitely amiss.
Helen braced her hands on her hips. “Perhaps you should tell me why my brother let me travel alone with you.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“He is not writing to his solicitor.”
Nicholas shrugged. “Why would he lie?”
“You tell me,” she said, despite knowing he would never betray a trust. “Liars always get their comeuppance. In this case, we shall pay the price for my brother’s devious tales.”
Nicholas fell silent.
“Now is not the time for secrets, Mr St Clair.” He had something to hide. An icy chill swept over her. Was Nicholas the target? “We’re like family.” She inwardly groaned at her choice of words, but needs must. “You can trust me as you trust my brother.”
The groom chose that moment to cough and clear his throat, determined to get their attention. “Jenkins said there’s a farmhouse half a mile from here, sir. The other side of that copse.”
A farmhouse!
No!
“Should we not wait here for Sebastian?” Worried the mystic was right, Helen planned to avoid men who toiled the land, for fear of being abducted and forced to wed.
No cows. No dung. No marriage.
Simple.
Nicholas observed the surrounding area before facing the groom. “We’ll head to the farmhouse but will tell the occupants we’re married and use false names. It’s unlikely they’ll recognise us. Under no circumstances will we mention Viscount Denton or reveal our destination.”
