Chasing Eliza (2 page)

When he
had first entered the dingy tavern and studied the occupants, he
had thought she was a young girl. He had spent most of the past
half hour watching the inn’s raucous patrons try to grope her. The
angry rebuttals she gave them had been met with ribaldry and sexual
challenge. She had dealt with the situation with a stalwart
determination that had been impressive. As time had passed, he
realised she was considerably older than first
impressions.

As she
came to serve him, he had got his first good look at her. She
wasn’t a girl at all; indeed she was a young woman. Somewhere in
her early twenties, her face held wisdom far beyond her years. Her
face held more character, more strength and determination than was
common for her age. There was also an innate wariness that warned
him she had experienced far more than someone of her age should,
and it had made her cynical.

He
wondered briefly if she took her turn upstairs, servicing the men.
The thought made him intensely angry and resentful for some reason.
Although she wasn’t his usual type, there was something about her
that called to him and he didn’t feel entirely comfortable with it.
He immediately banked out the surge of sensual awareness as she
perched on the rickety stool before him.

Her
lovely eyes were framed by delicately ached brows sitting on a wide
forehead. Her hair was light brown, and curly. Her nose was
straight, her chin tapered and her lips lavishly curved and rosy.
He studied the errant lock of hair that had refused to remain
confined in the tie at the base of her long, pale neck. She had
spent most of the evening batting away the errant curl that
although wayward, was clean and brushed. He wondered if it really
was as thick as it looked, and eyed the gathered mass hanging
loosely down her back.

Although
slender, she wasn’t thin but well rounded. Her breasts were full
and high, her thin waist flared into the hips that were neatly
rounded. He wondered if her thighs were as lush as the rest of her.
Her work-worn dress was clean and serviceable, and covered her
luscious frame adoringly. He wanted to take it off her and see for
himself.

The
sudden surge of sensual images that ran through his mind were out
of place for their situation and he immediately slammed the door on
them; turning his attention to the matter at hand with an inward
shudder.

Eliza
watched, transfixed as the long fingers holding her wrist slid
downwards. His hand swallowed hers in a firm clasp that was less of
a threat and more of an intimate declaration.

“
Let me go.” She tried to remove her hand, but his fingers
tightened imperceptibly holding her still.

“
Do you know of a Jemima?”

“
J-Jemima?” She stammered looking around frantically, as if
she expected her to pop out from under one of the
tables.

Edward
studied her carefully. He could feel the tightening of her fingers
into her palm; a good indication that she did indeed know Jemima
but was reluctant to confide in him. Briefly he considered
intimidating her, but knew simply holding her hand had knocked her
off kilter. If he was honest he was finding it too darned
disturbing himself.

“
You know her.” His soft words weren’t a question but a
statement; a soft hint of challenge shimmered beneath.

Held
captive by his long fingers encircling her hand and his steady
gaze, Eliza remained quiet. She shifted uncomfortably intensely
aware that his long fingers were slowly stroking the tender skin of
her wrist. The sense of being held captive to his command grew,
distractingly so.

“
Why?” Eliza snatched her hand out of his gentle hold and
frowned at him.

“
I know someone who is looking for her.” Edward watched the
myriad of emotions cross her pretty face. Alarm, confusion, worry,
fear followed by wariness. He knew immediately that he had the
right person. She knew something, and he had every intention of
getting it out of her.

“
Who?” Eliza shifted, fully aware that his dark gaze was
studying her closely.

“
A friend.” Edward wasn’t willing to give her any more
information until she furnished him with some in return. “I need to
know where she is.”

“
I-I don’t know.” Eliza shook her head firmly. Was he with
Scraggan?

He
didn’t look like one of Scraggan’s men, but who knew the type of
men Scraggan had in his employ? The man was dangerous, she knew
that much. Even seated, the man had an air of menacing authority
about him that made the rest of the men in the tap room sit
somewhere else; preferably as far away as possible.

Eliza
turned to leave, only to find her wrist captured once again in his
much firmer hold. She ignored the tiny thrill of awareness that
swept through her and watched in consternation as he placed a gold
coin into her palm.

Her eyes
grew wide as she stared at it before lifting her eyes to meet his
steady gaze with alarm.

“
I need to find her-,” Edward scowled. “I don’t know your
name.”

“
Eliza.”

“
Eliza. I need to find Jemima. I pose no threat to her; she
needs help.” Edward watched as the girl paled and sat back down on
the stool with a thump. She seemed to buckle inwards under his
declaration and he briefly wondered if she was going to faint on
him.

Eliza
knew she should continue with her bravado and deny any knowledge of
Jemima, but the worry and stress of the past few days drove her to
seek his help.

“
Do you know where she has gone?” Her voice trembled with
emotion. She knew this was the wrong place to show feminine
weakness but couldn’t stop the fear that had been steadily growing
since Jemima had failed to show for their last weekly meeting.
There had been no note of explanation, nothing.

Eliza
had managed to get away for long enough to ask Jemima’s room-mate
where she was, only for her fears to be fuelled when her room-mate
informed her that Jemima had simply vanished. One night she had
gone to bed; the next morning her bed was empty and it was evident
it hadn’t been slept in. Nobody had seen or heard from her
since.

“
No. We know she was here until a few weeks ago but she has
vanished. I need to find her.”

“
Why?” Eliza stared at the gold coin in her hand before
quickly tucking it away inside the collar of her dress, casting a
furtive glance around the room in search of witnesses. “What do you
want with her?”

“
You do know of her.” His conviction rang absolute as he
studied her. Leaning back against the hard chair, he let the
silence settle about them. It had the response he was looking for
when after a few tense moments, she began to shift uncomfortably on
the stool.

Eliza
looked into his dark eyes and took in unwavering determination in
his face. He wasn’t going anywhere, and she considered neither
would she until he had some answers. But Eliza had learnt from the
past few months that life – people – could be cruel, and she had
lost her faith in the goodness of human nature. Whatever the
reasons he wanted to find Jemima, she had a sneaking suspicion it
was for his own interests – not hers.

Ignoring
the shiver of awareness, she returned his unwavering
stare.

Edward
mentally cursed as he looked at the determination squaring her
chin. He had hoped that by making her uncomfortable she would tell
all; however the girl – woman – was no fool and had clearly decided
to play him at his own game. He mentally smiled, and wondered just
how far he could push her. He didn’t hesitate to change his game
plan and felt a thrill of anticipation sweep through him at the
challenge.

“
We think she has gotten herself into some trouble and needs
help getting out of it. A friend of mine is looking for her to help
her.” He smiled gently, relishing her resistance.

His
smile made her nerves tingle. “Who?”

The man
was an innate charmer who seemed to have seduction running through
his veins. She tried not to allow her inward struggle to show, but
she was having difficulty keeping up with the swift changes in him.
He seemed to flicker from battle-hardened warrior, to silken
seducer in a blink of an eye. She didn’t like feeling so off
guard.

“
I will tell you that another time. Now tell me what you know
about her.” Edward sat forward, smiling slightly as she immediately
eased backwards. He was fully aware she had been studying him. His
entire body was locked on the slow glide of her curious gaze
burning over him. It gave him an idea on how to get the information
he needed from her, if only he could get her alone.

“
I don’t know anything.” Eliza murmured with a quick glance
backwards at a particularly loud burst of laughter from the far
corner of the main tap room.

Her gaze
was captured by Bernard’s glare as he stomped past her line of
vision, and she knew she was about to be lambasted for fraternising
with the customers who weren’t paying her for her services. She
glanced at the new arrival warily.

“
I don’t know where Jemima has disappeared to.” She replied
honestly as she pushed to her feet. “I can’t help you. I’m
sorry.”

Edward
mentally cursed, wondering if he had left it too long. Whatever
feminine interest she had in him she had clearly set aside because
her face was now closed and distant as she made to leave
him.

“
Are you friends with Jemima?” Edward pushed watching as she
paused, clearly reluctant to tell him too much.

“
She is my sister.” Eliza replied quietly before quickly
turning away and returning to work.

Edward
cursed roundly. Of all of the replies he had expected it certainly
hadn’t been that one. He didn’t think Peter knew Jemima had a
sister. They had all spent several months looking for just Jemima -
no sister. How could Peter not know she had one?

Everything within him froze as he stared in dawning horror at
the woman who had returned to slapping tankards on
tables.

Was she
being honest? Or was she in fact Jemima?

Chapter
Two

He should
probably head straight over to Havistock Hall and send word to
Peter, but something kept him in his seat. He had never been so
captivated by a woman before, so ensnared in her feminine allure
that he couldn’t tear himself away, and that was the crux of the
problem. That’s what pushed him to take another drink of the
watered down brandy and settle back to watch the woman who
intrigued him.

She
moved with a lithe grace that was poetry in motion to watch. She
ducked and swayed past the groping hands, scowling occasionally
when one got too close. He watched the interplay, wondering how
long it would be before she finished for the night and he could
make his move. Whether she was Jemima, or Eliza didn’t matter.
Somehow he had to persuade her to go to Leicestershire with him.
Given her earlier reluctance to trust him, he knew that was not
going to be an easy task.

She was
pretty enough. He could understand why Peter was so absorbed by
her, but for the life of him he couldn’t understand why she would
want to remain hidden. What kind of trouble was she in? He eyed her
feminine curves with masculine appreciation. If she was Jemima,
then as far as Edward was concerned she was as far out of his reach
as humanly possible. He wouldn’t touch someone who had captured his
brother-in-law’s heart.

He
studied her as she took a quick break behind the bar. She was
turned towards him, giving him a full view of her face. He drank in
her features, the tiredness was evident but there was also defiance
in the upward tilt of her chin that was impressive. Despite her
exhaustion and the difficult circumstances in which she worked,
there was still a calm resolution in her face. Even knowing that a
brief dalliance between them wasn’t possible, he felt a surge of
almost pride for her fortitude. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder
what price she paid for her hardened resolve. Given the world-weary
cynicism he had seen in her face earlier, he considered it a shame
that such beauty was tarnished by her brutal lifestyle and wondered
if removing her to Leicestershire was indeed the best thing for
her.

Regardless of his masculine interest in her and his
sympathies for her current situation, he knew there could be
nothing between them, however fleeting. If she was indeed Jemima,
then she was Peter’s intended bride and far out of his reach. If
she was Eliza, then she wasn’t the kind of woman for a brief
dalliance and the last thing she needed was to be seduced by her
future brother-in-law.

He
cringed inwardly as the prospect of marriage loomed darkly before
him. With a shudder he quickly closed the notion off and turned his
attention back to his drink. It was best for everyone if he just
discovered her secrets and then left. It was down to Peter then to
find out who she really was.

Later
that evening, having drunk as much of the watered brandy as he
could stand, he made his way out of the tavern to use the privy at
the rear of the property. Nobody noticed him melt into the shadows
and minutes later enter the back corridor of the tavern, and it was
just the way he liked it.