How I Married a Marquess (30 page)

A hand closed over her elbow.

“I need to speak with you.” The familiar deep voice at her shoulder curled heat down her spine.

She stiffened, her back rigid. “We have nothing more to talk about.” With a jerk, she pulled her arm free. “Good night, Lord Chesney.”

Then she walked on, her head held high and her gaze firmly focused in front of her despite the shaking in her weakening knees. She forced herself with every ounce of determination she possessed not to give him the satisfaction of glancing back.

Walking on, she headed straight through the drawing room and out the double doors on the other side, then down the hall and through one of the morning rooms, where she opened the French doors leading out onto the side terrace and continued right out into the darkness. Most likely she would have kept right on walking even then if not for the stone balustrade surrounding the terrace, which prevented her from stepping out into the garden and losing herself completely under the cover of night.

Even then she pressed against the balustrade, leaning on her palms and staring out at the dark gardens. She trembled, her elbow still burning from his touch, and inhaled deeply to fill her lungs with the cool night air and calm herself.
Breathe
…Tomorrow Thomas would be gone, awake at first light and riding hard for London as soon as the morning mists cleared, as if he'd never arrived in Islingham and stepped into her life at all.
Just breathe
…

And while he was riding for London, the life she'd come to know would end, and she'd be locked away, trading herself for John Cooper. Gaol
had always been a possibility. From the very first time she'd galloped after a coach, she'd known that, yet even then she'd been willing to give her life for those of the orphans. But that was before she'd met Thomas, before she'd begun to look forward to having a future. Now that her life would never include him, though, would it matter what became of her?

She gave a strangled laugh. Would the constable even believe her?

She'd covered her tracks so well during the past two years that she feared tomorrow would be just as she'd warned Thomas—that no one would think it possible that she could be a highwayman. The daughter of a baron, for goodness' sake! And what proof did she have that she was the highwayman, anyway? None. Even her horse implicated John Cooper, not her. Ironically, the only person who could definitively place blame on her for the crimes was Thomas, and by the time she turned herself in tomorrow, he'd be miles away.

She pressed her hand against her forehead. God, she was pathetic. She couldn't even get herself arrested properly.

Thomas.

The back of her neck tingled as she sensed him step up behind her in the dark shadows like a panther, graceful and silent. And so very dangerous. Without a sound or a touch, he sent her heart racing and the blood coursing hot through her body. He reached around her to place both hands on the balustrade on either side of her, trapping her within his arms and standing close enough that the heat of his body seeped into her back and twined shivers down her spine. She sent up a silent prayer that he couldn't see the way he still affected her. And most likely always would.

“Did you wear that dress for me?” his deep voice purred smoothly over her shoulder, his mouth close to her ear.

“Of course not.” A lie. She'd chosen the emerald-green dress specifically with him in mind. With its low neckline and tight bodice that showed off her breasts, it was the most spectacular gown she owned, and with its sleeveless cut and narrow shoulder straps, it was also the one that revealed the most flesh. Wearing it had been childish of her, a fanciful attempt to remind him of how much he'd enjoyed her body and to show him exactly what he'd given up when he chose Royston's ledger over her.

But apparently he
had
noticed, and goose bumps dotted her skin at the thought that even now he still paid attention to her.

“Pity.” His breath fanned warmly across her cheek and stirred the tendrils of hair against her face. “Because you look beautiful.”

She closed her eyes. “Stop it,” she ordered weakly. She held her breath, half fearing he would ignore her chastisement, half fearing he wouldn't.

“My apologies, then.” But there was nothing apologetic in the husky tone of his voice. Rather she suspected he knew exactly how much his comment tortured her, devil take him. “Admiral Wesson must be a fascinating dinner partner.”

“The admiral is a
true
gentleman.” The backhanded insult was sharp, but he deserved it.

“You didn't take your eyes off him all night.”

She caught her breath. Was that jealousy? Surely not. “He told exciting stories about his adventures in the Caribbean fighting pirates.”

“All lies. Wesson was stationed in Greenwich for most of his career. He's never left European waters.”

“How do you kn—” She clamped her mouth shut, realizing with exasperation exactly how he knew.

“My stories, on the other hand,
are
true.” He leaned closer, so close that his hard chest brushed tantalizingly against her back. “I really did risk life and limb for England.”

“No need to worry. I promise not to tell a soul about you.” With a haughty sniff, she shifted away and pressed closer to the balustrade, but immediately he followed, only trapping her more securely. “In fact, I plan on never thinking about you again.”

“Pity,” he repeated in a hot murmur. “Because I certainly plan on thinking about
you
.”

With a cry of vexation, she whirled around in his arms to face him. For a moment he must have thought she'd given in to her desires, because she saw his sensuous lips curl into a self-pleased smile, which only frustrated her more.

“Stop it!” She put her hands against his chest and fiercely shoved.

He stepped back, putting distance between them. His smile faded, but his eyes were just as heated as ever.

So was the ache that sped through her. “I came out here to be alone, so please leave.”

But he only folded his arms across his chest and remained firmly in place. “We have to talk.”

“There is nothing left between us to discuss.”

“There's a mountain left between us,” he muttered, risking a second shove by leaning closer. “But that's not why I needed to see you.”

Inexplicably, her chest plummeted painfully at his words. He didn't need her; he needed something
from
her. “What do you want?” she demanded angrily, her chest burning with fresh rejection.

The words slipped out before she realized what she was asking. Stupid, stupid girl! His eyes flickered heatedly, and she thought for a moment he might just answer
I want you
, and if he did,
oh God
! She might very well lose the thin string of resolve to which she was clinging and throw herself into his arms.

But, thankfully, he didn't rise to the bait and said instead, “You cannot turn yourself in for the robberies.”

“I can, and I will.”

“No one will believe you. I've made certain of it.”

“How?” She clenched her fists, the familiar doubts rising inside her. She'd made herself vulnerable once by trusting him, and he'd only hurt her. Very deeply. She wouldn't let herself be wounded by him again. “What did you do?”

“Me? Nothing.”

Oh, how he made her head spin! “You just said—” She groaned in frustration. “Oh, never mind! Just go back to London tomorrow where you belong, and I'll convince the constable it was me all along.”

“With what proof?”

“The cottage. There's plenty of proof there.”

“Not anymore.”

She stared at him as anguish tightened in her belly. So he'd destroyed everything there that incriminated her, leaving no trace of the robberies. Or of the passion they'd shared. Her heart plummeted. It was as if he were systematically erasing himself from her life, and that realization hurt her so deeply that her breath strangled. She had to swallow hard to clear the knot from her throat to speak. “I have my gang, remember? You'll be gone, but they'll vouch for my involvement. John Cooper will—”

“Listen to me.” He took a step closer, his hands again returning to the balustrade on either side of her. He leveled his eyes with hers. “By this time tomorrow, everything will be resolved with the highwayman.”

But nothing would be resolved between
them
. He would be far away by then, heading back to his life in London, and she would be here, somehow trying to survive without him. She took a deep breath and resigned herself to that lonely future. “How?”

“I'm setting John Cooper free.”

Her eyes widened, her anger vanishing beneath her surprise.

“I'm going to the gao
l
at midnight to free him. He can hide at the cottage until we find a way to prove he isn't the highwayman.”

“I want to help.” She reached for his arm, and as her hand closed around the hard muscle beneath his jacket sleeve, heat seeped up her fingers. Her heart skipped. Would she ever be able to touch him again? Ignoring the fresh stab in her hollow chest, she pressed, “What can I do? I know the village. I can—”

“What you can do is go home and stay there until morning. You'll have a solid alibi that you were nowhere near the gaol when Cooper was freed.” He paused and his eyes softened. “And I won't have to worry about you getting hurt.”

“I want to—”

“
Damnation
, Jo! For once just do as I tell you.” He grabbed her shoulders, but instead of shaking her, he closed his fingers around her arms and shifted her closer. “At eleven o'clock I need you to get a headache and ask Robert to take you home. He'll be more than happy to leave with you by then.”

“Why?”

“Because I spent all dinner telling Miranda Hodgkins how much he fancies her.”

“You didn't!” She gaped at him, not knowing whether to be angry or to laugh with amusement. But the way his blue eyes flickered over her arousingly in the darkness…well, there was nothing amusing about
that
.

“I'll excuse myself shortly after you leave, then sneak out and ride for the village. And you'll be home by then, innocently tucked into bed.” His hands slipped slowly down her arms to encircle her waist and draw her against him, the subtle movement anything but innocent.

For one moment she stiffened against the sweet torture of his embrace, not trusting him and certainly not trusting her own weakness for him. She should have been furious at him for destroying her evidence against Royston, for his betrayal of both her and the orphans. But at that moment, surrounded by the protective circle of his arms, all she could think about was how this would be the last time the two of them would be alone together, the last time she would ever be in his arms…With a soft cry, she let herself fall against him, her arms going around him as she rested her head against his chest. Closing her eyes against the rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her cheek, she shivered at the wonderful contact of bodies and the familiar heat and strength of him. Hot tears gathered at her lashes.

“By tomorrow morning,” he assured her, his lips resting at her temple, “John Cooper will be free, and you'll be safe.”

“And you'll have left for London,” she breathed, the painful words barely a sound on her lips as desolation stabbed into her belly.

His shoulders sagged. “This isn't easy,” he admitted, gently stroking his knuckles across her cheek. “Having to leave you behind is killing me.”

She raised her head and gazed up at him, his handsome face blurry beneath the tears welling in her eyes. “Then why are you doing it?”

“Josephine.” Her name tore from him in a hoarse rasp. “What you're asking…” He drew a ragged breath, then shook his head. “There is no future with me.”

She nodded knowingly, unable to speak for fear of breaking down. Nothing had changed between them. He'd found a way to save Mr. Cooper but not her heart. Nothing could save that.

“Eleven o'clock,” he repeated firmly. “You'll go home, and I'll take care of everything. Trust me.” With a last, heart-wrenching kiss, he reluctantly released her and stepped back. “Now go inside before you're missed. I'll be along in a few minutes.”

Not trusting herself to speak, she moved away from him to return to the drawing room. But she let herself pause to tearfully glance back one last time before stepping inside and closing the door.

Thomas watched her go, then leaned against the stone balustrade and closed his eyes, taking a quiet moment to gather himself. Even now, under the pressure of the night's pending events and tomorrow's consequences to live through, and knowing what parts he needed all of them to play, he longed for more time alone with her. But that wasn't going to happen.

Dressed all in black and blending into the night, Nathaniel Grey stepped out of the dark shadows of the garden and approached silently to join him. Leaning back against the balustrade beside Thomas, he folded his arms across his chest.

“It's set, then?” Grey asked quietly.

Thomas nodded. “She'll be at the gaol
at midnight.”

“How can you be certain?”

“Because she never does what I tell her.”
Damned woman
.
She couldn't even let him slink back to London in peace like a coward. He grimaced. “I suppose you overheard everything.”

“Not everything, but enough.” He added thoughtfully, “She loves you, you know.”

Thomas nodded heavily as he admitted, “I know.”

“Which should worry you.”

“It does.”

“And you love her.”

He blew out a hard breath. “Which completely terrifies me.”

Shoving himself to his feet, he began to pace, cursing at himself with each step.

Grey's eyes followed him silently back and forth across the terrace. While Thomas didn't know what his brother-in-law thought of the exchange with Josie, his gaze softened as he watched Thomas pace. The two men had been best friends in Spain, brothers born of blood and battle; then Grey married Emily, and they became true brothers. Grey was also the only other person who understood the choice he was being forced to make—his life as an agent or the woman he loved. Grey had chosen Emily. If he did the same, if he chose Josie, would marriage and family be enough compensation for him, too?