Blackthorne's Bride (9 page)

And he reached out, took her in his arms, and kissed her.

Maddie tried to pull away, to escape Lord Blackthorne's embrace.

Until his lips touched hers.

The man might be reckless, arrogant, and dashed in the head, but his lips were achingly addictive.

One touch, and she couldn't pull away. One touch, and she didn't want to pull away.

She had been kissed before. More than once, but not more than she could count on one hand. And before this moment, she could honestly say that she didn't care if she were ever kissed again. She'd found the activity boring at best and sloppy at worst.

Blackthorne was neither boring nor sloppy. In fact, he was slow, deliberate, and tantalizing. His lips were firm and cool, so gentle as they brushed against hers that she wasn't even sure at first that he was kissing her.

And then he kissed her again, and this time she felt his mouth move, felt the tingle of plea-sure zing through the sensitive skin of her lips. It almost tickled. She wanted to reach up and rub her lips, but she knew that would not remove the ache.

Only Blackthorne could do so. And he did.

He pushed her back against the tree, cupping her head in his hand so he had complete control. Then he pulled back slightly, and their eyes met.

Maddie's lips were still tingling, and she couldn't help darting her tongue out in an attempt to quell the strange sensation.

His black eyes grew darker yet, and he took her chin between two fingers.

"I'm going to enjoy kissing you," he murmured.

She swallowed and shook her head. "I don't think you should."

One dark eyebrow lifted. "Kiss you or enjoy it?"

"Either," she whispered. She was Lady Madeleine. She shouldn't be allowing this. But already her traitorous gaze had lowered to focus on his mouth. She wanted it on hers again. She wanted more.

"Then tell me to stop," he murmured while his finger trailed from her chin to her lips, parting them slightly.

"I will," she said, feeling his finger move as she spoke. But she didn't. His body was warm against hers. He felt like liquid steel—so hard and yet so flexible.

"I'm waiting," he whispered.

"So am I," she answered; Oh, Lord. She shouldn't have said that. Lady Madeleine wouldn't have said that.

She was going to go to hell for encouraging him. But she was in a hell of anticipation right now. She needed him to kiss her again.

With infinite slowness, he obliged. He lowered his head, his gaze holding hers until the last possible second, then he touched his lips to hers. She felt like a feather had brushed her skin, only no feather had ever made her skin zing before.

She moaned slightly as the tingle infiltrated her body—traveling from her lips to her neck, her shoulders, the tips of her fingers. She felt numb. Drugged. Intoxicated.

Seemingly of its own volition, her hand came up to touch his back. As he wore only a linen shirt, she could easily feel the cords and bands of his muscles. Wrapping both hands around his waist, she pulled him closer. She felt his mouth curve in a smile against hers.

"Do you want more, Maddie?" he whispered against her mouth.

She nodded.

He caught her bottom lip, and she felt his tongue trace her mouth slowly. The shock of that erotic sensation made her body come alive. She shook with the zing of pleasure, feeling it shoot through her—from her fingers back up her arms, straight to her back, where her spine tingled and the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood up.

"Tell me."

Maddie closed her eyes. She shouldn't allow this to go any further. She should walk away, walk back to Mr. Dover, who was waiting for her, worrying about her.

Or at least worrying about being behind schedule.

"Give me more," she whispered.

With consummate skill, he slanted his mouth over hers. Maddie felt her nipples grow erect and hard, felt her legs grow wobbily. Blackthorne deepened their kiss, taking it from playful and innocent to somewhere she'd never been. Somewhere dark and dangerous and exciting.

And then he opened her lips, and she gave in to the sweet surrender of his invasion. The way he moved, the way he explored her, and encouraged her to explore him in return, took her breath away.

Or it might have been that she was pressed so tightly against him that she wasn't sure where he ended and she began. And still she couldn't get close enough.

It wasn't until he broke away that she realized she hadn't been breathing. She was light-headed and dizzy, and she had to clutch him to keep from falling over. She closed her eyes, hoping the world would stop spinning.

When she opened them, he was still looking at her.

"You were right," he said.

She shivered at the husky timbre of his voice. It made her want to grasp his shirt and pull him back to her.

But she didn't.

"Right?" she asked, managing to keep her voice from wavering.

"We shouldn't have done that."

"I'm always right," she moaned, not in the least pleased by that fact at the moment. "I should start listening to myself."

"Lady Madeleine!" Mr. Dover called again. "These men are growing quite ... impatient!" His voice squeaked, and Maddie knew she had better get out there.

"I have to go," she said.

"Oh, no you don't." He put his hands on either side of her head, trapping her. "I won't let you risk yourself."

Maddie scowled at his attempts to control her. She'd been right again. "Move out of my way. I don't need protection."

"The hell you don't."

She tried to hold her temper. "You're just like my father, always trying to stop me from helping."

"Maybe he stops you because he doesn't want to have to rescue you. Now stay here."

"You
stay here." And she darted under his arm and sprinted back toward the road.

Blackthorne was close on her heels. She thought she heard him mutter, "You'd better be right this time," but then she saw poor Mr. Dover, and she slammed to a halt.

The large man from the village was holding Mr. Dover captive, the man's big beefy arm tight about his skinny neck.

"Mr. Dover!" Maddie's hand flew to her lips.

"We won't 'urt him, me lady. Just give us the coachman and we'll let you pass."

Maddie took a deep breath and moved forward. Cutting her gaze to the carriage, she saw Lord Nicholas hidden in the shadows. He was rubbing his head, looking groggy. She prayed he would stay put.

Blackthorne was a lost cause. He was so close on her heels that he stepped on her slipper.

When she was beside the carriage, she turned to glare at him, but he only rammed into her. "Stand back," she hissed.

"Lady Madeleine, I'm not your problem." He indicated the beefy man.

She turned back to the road. "Sir, I have what appears to be unfortunate news."

The beefy man's eyebrows came together, and Mr. Dover whimpered. Maddie opened her mouth again, then closed it abruptly. She simply couldn't tell this man his daughter was a loose woman. She glanced at Blackthorne, took a deep breath, and lied. "Our coachman has apparently run off and left us."

There was a sound of protest from underneath the conveyance, and Maddie kicked dirt back, hoping a mouthful of grime would shut Lord Nicholas up. Didn't he realize she was trying to save him?

She gave the beefy man and his companions a sad smile. In fact, she did feel sad for them. "We are as distraught as you. And I can only imagine how your daughter must feel," she said sympathetically. "Perhaps she will find another suitor?"

One of the men on horseback sniggered. " 'Ardly likely! She's got a face like an 'orse—"

The beefy man turned abruptly, and the man quickly closed his mouth. Poor Mr. Dover swung this way and that as the beefy man moved.

Maddie pretended she had not heard the other man. "Is there anything we can do to make reparations? Perhaps we can give you something toward her dowry?"

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she remembered her reticule flying out of the carriage window. She glanced at Ashley, who was unusually quiet. Hopefully, her cousin, who claimed to be ready for an adventure at a moment's notice, had thought to bring a few pounds with her.

The beefy man frowned at her offer of reparations. Obviously he was less than pleased at the prospect of returning with anything less than a groom.

Finally, he lowered the blunderbuss and released Mr. Dover. The poor scholar immediately fell to his knees and cowered.

"I suppose we can come to some sort of arrangement," the beefy man said after perusing them. Most likely he was evaluating the quality of their clothes and carriage and tallying up their worth. "Ten pounds would be some help."

Maddie blanched. "Ten pounds?" she squeaked.

"My daughter is worth it," the man said with a nod.

Maddie stared at him, blew out a puff of air, then bit her lip. She gave a tentative smile.

"Of course she is, sir. One moment."

She moved closer to Ashley, and Blackthorne followed. The three of them made a tight circle. "How much money do you have?" Maddie asked Ashley.

"A fiver. You?"

Maddie shook her head. "None. I lost my reticule—"

"Don't worry about it," Blackthorne interrupted. "I have a better plan."

Maddie whipped around to face him. "I already know your plan, and I don't agree. If we don't have enough money, perhaps we can give him something else of value. I have these earrings."

But Blackthorne wasn't watching her. He was staring at the coach as though it were new and he'd never seen it before. Then he moved away from her, saying, "Hold onto your earrings. In fact, hold onto everything!"

There was a howl from the front of the coach and the horses reared up. Maddie and Ashley jumped back, out of the horses' way for fear of being trampled. But Blackthorne—fool that he was—raced toward the animals.

Maddie had a moment to glance at the men from the village. She prayed they didn't startle easily and accidentally shoot Mr. Dover, but they were staring at the commotion in surprise. The big beefy one was moving toward his horse. The other two frowned in confusion.

Wondering at their bewilderment, Maddie looked back and blinked in disbelief. Lord Nicholas was on one of the bays, racing toward the armed men. He was howling at the top of his lungs, trying desperately to control the spooked animal.

Behind him, Blackthorne was mounting another carriage horse and turning his animal to charge as well.

"Are they armed?" Ashley asked as the men rode by in a blur of dust and horseflesh.

"I don't think so!" Maddie yelled over the noise. And then as the two groups of men converged, she shut her eyes.

The Martingale brothers were obviously going to die. They'd be shot dead in the middle of the road. She didn't want to be pessimistic, but they were clearly doomed.

She squinched her eyes closed and tensed, waiting for the shots to ring out. The sound of the horses' hooves grew farther away, and still she waited.

When Ashley put a hand on her arm, she jumped in surprise and opened her eyes. The road was deserted. Except for poor Mr. Dover, still huddled across the way, the men had disappeared.

"What happened?"

Ashley shook her head. "Those idiots from the village took off, and Lord Blackthorne and Lord Nicholas went after them."

"But Blackthorne and Lord Nicholas aren't armed."

Ashley gave her a foreboding look. "I imagine that will become apparent soon enough."

Mr. Dover had cocked his head at the sound of the girls' voices. "Are—Are they gone?"

Ashley shook her head and muttered, "Where did you find him? I thought Sir Alphonse was a simpering fool."

Maddie ignored her and went to help Mr. Dover up. Poor man. He wasn't used to these types of adventures.

She wished she weren't either.

* * * * *

Jack and Nick chased the men within a few yards of the village before the men realized the brothers weren't any real threat.

One moment Jack was whooping and hollering, trying to distract the men lest they realize he hadn't fired any shots, and the next the men had turned on them and Jack was screaming for Nick to go back.

Nick barely got his horse to retreat before the first shot rang out. Jack cursed and bent low. He glanced behind him, saw his brother riding fast and hard, and veered his mount toward the trees off to the side of the road. Nick followed. They were too vulnerable out in the open, and Jack hoped they could lose the men in the woods.

He couldn't lead them back to the carriage. That would put the women in too much danger. Damn fool woman put herself in enough danger as it was. Lady bloody do-gooder Madeleine.

He ducked to avoid low-hanging branches as another shot rang out. It chipped the bark of the tree beside him, and a spray of wood flew in his face.