Amanda Scott - [Dangerous 02] (45 page)

“I do,” he retorted.

“How unfair, and foolish, too! Michael Peryllys would have killed you if I had not been here.” The very thought tied a knot in her stomach and made her shiver.

“You don’t know that,” he said.

Employing one of his own favorite tactics, she said nothing.

The silence lengthened. Then, with a sigh, he said, “Very well, I suppose he would, at that. I’d give something to know how much he really knew about me.”

“Cubert Breton said Michael set a man to watch you—to watch Sir Antony, that is—after he learned of Jenifry’s rescue,” she said. “It’s been only a few days, but if his man saw you leave Seacourt as Matois, Michael might suspect that you play two roles.”

“And because Matois is French, Michael connected him to
Le Renardeau?”

“Well, how many Frenchmen are running around Cornwall whose antecedents are unknown to him? His wife is French, after all. Even without setting a spy to watch Sir Antony, he must have wondered if Jean Matois could be
Le Renardeau.”

He nodded. “You are right, of course.”

She waited.

He released her arm, slipping his around her shoulders as he said, “If you expect me to apologize for expressing my displeasure, angel, you’ll have a long wait. That you may have saved my life does not lessen what I felt when I learned that you were here.”

Remembering with a glow of warmth wholly at odds with her opinion of violent men how fiercely he had shaken her, she said, “How did you find out?”

“Oakes, of course. What I said before was true. He was waiting for me, certain I would not want the men who know me as Matois to see me at the same time as his men, who know me as Sir Antony Foxearth. When he and Gabriel told me you were guarding the trail to keep anyone from leaving that way, they scared me witless. I didn’t consider Michael then, but I should have. All the lads expected him to be there tonight.”

“Cubert would not have warned him to stay away,” Charley said as he guided her off the path onto rougher ground. “Could Michael simply have been lying in wait for you, do you think?”

“I doubt it. The more I think about it, the less I believe that anyone connected Matois and Sir Antony before tonight. Seacourt Head is open land, and we’d have heard if any strangers were hanging about. I think it’s more likely that Michael was cautious because he knew they were looking for him. He must have overheard us speaking, and recognized me as Matois then. Annabelle is yonder in the shrubbery,” he added. “I expect Oakes’s men will have moved Dancer to the same place.”

They met no one except the agent Oakes had left to mind the horses, and when they had mounted, Antony led the way. He avoided the main path along the cliff until they had passed beyond the far end of the bay, explaining that he did not want to meet anyone coming up from the beach on any of the trails at that end.

Noting that most of the fires along the coast were dying out, Charley said, “What if the French are still lingering nearby in the Channel, waiting for the Duke’s ship?”

“These waters are crawling with revenue cutters by now,” he told her. “Not only did Oakes send two boats to watch for the merchantman and anyone who accosted her, but he sent several more to warn ships coming from the east to keep clear of the area. They’ll hang about this side of the Eddystone to bring the Duke’s ship into Fowey when it appears, and now that the mist is clearing, I doubt if they will miss it. At all events, with Michael out of the picture now, the Duke will be safe enough.”

“Except for
Le Renardeau,”
Charley reminded him with a chuckle.

“Perhaps I ought to have reassured Gabriel on that head,” Antony said. “It’s a pity for him to miss the ceremony after he’s put in so much time and effort preparing for it, but it’s still habit with me not to trust easily, especially where
Le Renardeau
is concerned. And since he can’t bring himself to trust Oakes to do his job …”

“That does not surprise me,” Charley said. “Mr. Oakes is no doubt perfectly capable, but by Cornish standards he
is
still a foreigner.”

“I can see that it’s a matter of pride with Gabriel to make sure the Duke does not meet trouble in Cornwall, but he is carrying things a bit far now, don’t you agree?”

Warmed by his evident interest in her opinion, she smiled and said, “We have worried for so long that it’s hard to believe the danger is over, particularly since Mr. Gabriel is still uncertain about that. He does take his position seriously, and I think the lack of a military presence to protect the Duke makes him very nervous. He seems to grow more so each time I meet him.”

They rode in silence for a time, until she said quietly, “If you are still vexed with me, Antony, I wish you would say so now, before we reach the inn.”

“Why?”

Surprised that he had to ask, she answered with some asperity, “Because I cannot be certain that you will not make me angry, of course. I’d as lief not have to worry about what the inn servants might hear us say to each other.”

He chuckled.

“That’s not funny!”

“Very well,” he said, stifling his amusement with disconcerting ease, “I’ll say exactly what I think. You acted impulsively, and unwisely. No, don’t argue with me yet. You asked me to tell you, and I will, but I’m tired and so are you, and the last thing I want to do is to quarrel.” He paused, clearly to see if she would reply, and when she did not, he said, “You should have brought someone with you, angel, if only Teddy. I don’t say that because you are female, either, or for any reason other than that you would have been safer that way. I’d say the same thing to a man.”

She doubted the last, but she said, “I expect you are right about its being the safer course, but I wanted Teddy to go with Letty and Jenifry to help Jeb protect them, and I did not know whom else I could trust.”

“You sent Teddy with Letty because you knew he would try to talk you out of leaving the house,” Antony said. When she glanced guiltily at him, he added, “Now, explain to me why you felt you could not trust Hodson.”

She sighed. “I did think he ought to be where you expected him to be, in case you had need of him. You would not send to me for help, I knew, and in truth, I had no plan, sir. I was worried about your safety, and I thought I could get help in Fowey, but I knew I would have to have a convincing tale to tell. I rode out to see what I could see, that’s all.”

After a moment, he said gently, “Well, I’m not angry anymore, angel, but I was.”

“I know.” Again she remembered the fierce way he had shaken her. “I have never killed anyone before.”

“That was not your fault. Gabriel was right. Michael would have shot us both.”

“I know. I just think I ought to feel something, and I don’t. Not so much as a tremor of remorse. You don’t suppose that I am going to suffer a huge reaction later, do you, like I did after Papa and Mama died?”

She half expected him to laugh, and was relieved when he replied flatly, “No, I don’t. What happened then was perfectly normal, because you had not allowed yourself time to grieve for them. You kept telling yourself that you had more important things to worry about. Moreover, you loved your parents, angel, and in a way, I think you were protecting yourself against your deep feelings for them. You don’t care the same way about Peryllys, only as you would about any chap who died, and less about him than most. You can say a prayer for his soul, and I daresay that will exorcise any sense of guilt that might linger.”

If she did not do as he suggested, she did send a silent prayer of thanks that she had been able to pull the trigger when she did. Just the thought that Michael Peryllys might have killed Antony sent ripples of horror through her even now.

Their conversation was desultory after that until they reached the inn. Inside, however, they met with an unexpected obstacle when they woke the landlord to request two rooms for the night. Though mine host did no more than blink at Antony’s drab jacket and breeches, he proved unable to fulfill their request.

“I regret having to disoblige you, sir,” he said, rubbing his forehead in apparent distress, “but I’ve kept only the one bedchamber free, as your man asked me to do. It’s got a small adjoining sitting room, which he said would serve you and her ladyship well enough, since you wasn’t expecting to stay the night but would use the rooms only to change your clothing. We didn’t expect to see the pair of you tonight.”

“Our plans changed,” Antony said, “Now, be a good fellow and see what you can arrange for us. You need not to be choosy, you know. I can sleep anywhere.”

“But I’ve got nowhere else,” the landlord said helplessly. “I give you my word, sir. What with the Duke of Wellington in town tomorrow, folks have come from miles around to see him. I’ve got bodies lying cheek by jowl in every attic and stable loft. ’Tis the same at the Lugger, across the way, and Fowey’s only got the two inns. Surely, since you’re married, sharing the bed won’t matter. ’Tis a fine, large one.”

Before Antony could reply, Charley said quietly, “That will do perfectly well, thank you. Indeed, sir,” she added, smiling at her husband, “I shall not complain, I promise you. The Ship is said to be one of the best inns in Cornwall, after all.”

Though the landlord smiled gratefully, she thought her husband nearly grimaced, but he said with Sir Antony’s customary hauteur, “Very well, my dear, it shall be as you wish.” However, when a sleepy chambermaid showed them to their bedchamber, he waited only until she had stirred up the fire and departed again before he said, “I will not sleep on that spindly sofa in the next room, or on the carpet by the hearth. I scarcely closed my eyes last night. My lodgings were extremely rough.”

“We
are
married,” she said, flicking an amused look at him from beneath her lashes. “Surely, married persons occasionally occupy the same bed without … uh, without—” She broke off when she saw that he was grinning at her. “You know perfectly well what I mean!”

“I do,” he said, untying her bonnet and casting it onto the top of the bare dressing table. As he reached to untie the black stock she wore around her neck, he added, “Shall I help you unfasten your dress?”

Without a maidservant at hand, unless she chose to sleep in her cumbersome riding habit, she had no choice but to allow him to undo the tiny buttons at the back of the bodice. She removed her coat and the stock, and turned her back, while he stripped off his gloves and tossed them onto the table with her bonnet.

Antony undid the first buttons quickly. Then his progress slowed, and each time his fingers moved to a new one, they caressed her through the thin cambric chemisette she wore under her habit. At last he stopped, his hands resting lightly against her back. His presence behind her was disturbing, his light touch teasing. She wanted to see his expression, but there was something in the moment, a sense of intimacy, that she did not want to disturb. She could scarcely breathe. She wanted to lean back against him, to touch him, to feel his strong arms close around her, but she was afraid any movement would break the spell. When one of his fingers touched bare skin at the nape of her neck, above the narrow lace frill, she shivered, but she was not cold.

The little fire crackled on the hearth, its light joining that of several candles to fill the room with a reddish, golden glow. She could hear him breathe. She could smell the salty scent of ocean waves and coastal wind that clung to his damp wool jacket and breeches. She wanted to look at him, to judge what he must be thinking by the expression on his face, but she did not dare let him see hers. He would think her wanton if he could read her thoughts.

One of his hands, then the other, slipped gently around to the tiny chemisette buttons at her throat, buttons that her stock had hidden. As a finger tickled her chin, stroking gently, the other hand nimbly unfastened the top button. Two more followed, and still she said not a word.

She felt his breath against her right ear before he murmured, “You are not wearing stays, are you?”

“I never do,” she said simply.

“Excellent.” Two more buttons dealt with. These were larger than the ones that held the frill in place, and soon he reached the curved edge of the habit bodice. So intent was she on his progress in front that she did not realize his left hand had moved until she felt it touch the small of her back.

“Why do ladies wear so much clothing nowadays?” he asked.

“’Tis the fashion, of course.” The voice sounded unlike her own.

“A damned inconvenient fashion, if you ask me.”

In front, one finger dipped under the edge of her habit bodice, into the opening of the chemisette, touching bare skin between her breasts. She held her breath. If he did not think she was capable of undoing the front buttons herself, she was not going to tell him otherwise. But he knew she was, of course. She began breathing again, a little rapidly, wondering how far he meant to go and if he expected her to stop him.

In back, he dealt with the fastening at her waist, releasing it deftly. She felt the weight of her skirt tugging the bodice. Only her arms in their wide sleeves kept the habit from slipping to the floor. His hand returned to her waist, then moved lower and stopped. In a voice of amusement, he said, “More pantaloons?”

“When was the last time you undressed a lady who wore a riding habit?”

He choked on a laugh and turned her at last to face him. Dancing firelight enhanced the twinkle in his eyes. “What makes you think I make a habit of undressing ladies?”

“You do not seem unpracticed at this, but I only wondered because ladies have worn pantaloons or heavy stockings under their riding habits for a long time. All my life, certainly.”

“I prefer those things you wear that have lace edging round the bottom. Very enticing, I thought them, like a well-constructed invitation.” His gaze met hers and held it. He looked as if he were trying to read her thoughts.

She wondered what he saw and hoped it was nothing that would deter him. Wanton behavior or not, this might be her last chance to learn what married people did in bed, for now that Wellington was safe, they would soon have to arrange their annulment. Indeed, for all she knew, Antony had already arranged for the bishop to deal with it in Truro after the consecration. The thought made her sad, so she did not dwell on it, fixing her gaze on him instead, willing him to continue what he had begun. When he did not do so immediately, she reached out and put her hand inside the rough jacket he wore, stroking the fine lawn shirt beneath it. When her hand moved lower, toward the top of his breeches, she heard his breath catch. “Aren’t you getting hot in that jacket?” she asked, still looking into his eyes.