Lady Allerton's Wager (13 page)

Beth instinctively stepped back and felt the hard wood of the banister against her back. In the dim light she could see nothing of his expression but felt rather than saw the intensity with which his gaze rested on her flushed face. She wondered if he and Justin had been drinking copiously. Not ten minutes previously she had hoped that they would be so sunk in their cups that they would not notice or suspect her escape. Now it seemed that that was all too likely—and rather dangerous.

‘A moment, Lady Allerton.’ Marcus spoke silkily. ‘I have just been up to your room to check that you and Mrs Cavendish had everything for your comfort
and I was concerned to find you absent. I cannot believe that it is appropriate for you to be wandering the corridors of an alehouse alone at this time of night! Whatever can have prompted you to venture out like this?’

Beth raised her eyes to his face in a look that she hoped was innocent. ‘I was merely checking that all was well with my servants and carriage for the onward journey, my lord,’ she said.

There was a pause. Marcus was still looking at her quizzically and Beth had the unnerving feeling that he was not convinced.

‘I see. Well, I shall be very happy to attend to such matters myself and spare you the trouble.’ Marcus shifted slightly and Beth backed away as far as she could. It had the reverse effect from the one she was trying to achieve, for Marcus took hold of her arm and drew her closer to him. ‘Be careful that you do not fall over the banisters, my lady. They are a little rickety.’

Beth pulled her arm away. ‘I am perfectly safe, I thank you, my lord.’

‘I would dispute that,’ Marcus said, giving her a smile. His gaze appraised her with disconcerting thoroughness. ‘I think I should see you to your room, Lady Allerton. This inn is no place to be loitering alone. It has a somewhat…raffish…clientele in the evenings.’ As if to underline his words the taproom door opened and a couple fell out into the corridor, laughing and amorously entwined. Beth looked away.

‘There is no need to come with me,’ she said a little abruptly. ‘I can find my own way! Goodnight, my lord!’

Marcus stepped back and she brushed past him and
hurried up the remaining steps. When she looked down, he had reached the bottom of the stairs but he was still watching her and the mocking light was back in his eyes. He raised a hand.

‘Goodnight, then, Lady Allerton! Sleep well!’

‘And you, my lord!’ Beth said politely.

Marcus’s grin widened. ‘Oh, Justin and I will no doubt sleep like tops once we have polished off our brandy!’ He disappeared down the passage and Beth heard the parlour door close behind him.

She let out the breath she had been holding, and slumped against the banister, moving quickly away as it creaked protestingly under her weight. What to do now? She was certain that Marcus suspected something, but there was no chance that she would give up her scheme. It was tonight or not at all. Beth sped away up the stairs to pack her trunk and put her plan into action.

It was pitch black. Beth crept down the stairs, feeling for each tread and clutching the banister tightly so that she should not fall. Every creak of the steps sounded like a thunderclap and she was sure it was only a matter of moments before a door was thrown open above and she was discovered. Her trunk seemed very heavy and she could feel it nudging against her leg and threatening to push her down into the darkness beneath as she tried to steal silently down to the hall.

There was no sound in the passage but for the scratch of a mouse in the wainscot and the uneven tick of the parlour clock. Beth tiptoed to the door and drew back the bolt stealthily. She could see a faint light shining in the stables but there was no sound
and the carriage was certainly not waiting in the yard for her. Perhaps Fowler had decided it would cause less of a stir to set off only when she was ready. Beth shivered. The moon was riding high amidst the stars and a cold breeze was swinging the weathervane on the stable roof. It was a frosty night.

Beth slipped out of the door and across the yard. The moonlight was very bright and it was easy to pick her way past the water trough and in at the darkened stable door. One torch still burned at the far end of the stables. A couple of the horses heard her approach and shifted in their stalls, bumping against the wall. There was the chink of harness. Beth paused, then went through the wide doorway into the coach house.

Here also a torch still burned, high on the wall. Her carriage was standing in the middle of the cobbled floor, exactly where it had been five hours previously when she had come to give Fowler his instructions. The door was open but of the coachman there was no sign and it was quite evident to Beth that she would be going nowhere other than back upstairs to bed. Fury and disappointment swept over her. It had been such a good opportunity to get ahead, with Marcus and his cousin no doubt dead to the world and unlikely to wake for hours. For a moment she toyed with the idea of harnessing the carriage horses herself and driving off, but she knew it would not serve. She had taken a gig out alone on more than one occasion but the idea of driving a coach and four was clearly unworkable. She almost stamped her foot in frustration.

Just as she was turning to leave the coach house Beth heard a sound emanating from inside the carriage itself. She froze, staring into its dark interior. There was no movement, but then the sound came
again, a soft scraping that turned her blood cold. Someone was inside.

For a moment Beth wanted to turn tail and flee, but then she was seized by the conviction that the unfortunate Fowler must have fallen asleep about his work—or, worse, was dead drunk and was even now sleeping off his excesses in her coach. She marched up to the carriage steps and peered inside the open door.

‘Fowler! Wake up at once! How dare you sleep when I require you to be working—?’

Strong hands grabbed her and pulled her inside the coach before she even had the chance to finish her sentence. All the breath was knocked out of her so that she could not have screamed even had she wished. In a hair’s breadth of time she found herself tumbled on the velvet seat, pinned under a hard masculine body. She struggled and the cruel grip tightened, forcing her back against the cushions until she could not move. It was too dark to see anything of her assailant and her hair was blinding her anyway as it came loose from its plait and fell about her face. She drew a ragged breath, intending to call out or at the very least make a small yelping noise, but she suddenly froze, overwhelmed by the message that her senses were passing to her. Her assailant was none other than Marcus Trevithick.

Beth could hear him breathing and could smell the faint aroma of smoke and brandy that overlaid the more elemental scent of his skin. As soon as this impinged on her she felt herself weaken hopelessly in a way that was both inappropriate and unhelpful to her current circumstances. She let her breath out on a shaky sigh.

‘Lord Trevithick!’

Immediately the ruthless grip eased and Beth heard the sound of flint striking sharply. A flame flared, then settled to a warm glow. Beth sat up and looked around.

The interior of the carriage, which was not particularly large in the first place, looked even smaller and oddly intimate in the glow of the lantern. Marcus adjusted the wick, then sat back in the corner. He was watching her with a mixture of amusement and calculation.

‘That was…interesting, Lady Allerton. How did you recognise me?’

Beth had no intention of telling him, just as she had no intention of allowing him to gain the advantage. She edged towards the doorway and his hand immediately shot out and took her by the wrist.

‘Not just yet. I believe you have some explaining to do!’

‘I!’ Beth looked him straight in the eye. ‘It is your actions that require explanation, Lord Trevithick! Lurking in darkened stables, attacking innocent women…’

‘And all in the middle of the night!’ Marcus finished laconically. ‘You start, Lady Allerton! Or perhaps I can help you?’ His voice took on a sardonic inflection. ‘When we last met you had apparently been checking on the welfare of your coachman. Perhaps you are repeating the exercise? To my mind it shows an unconscionable consideration for one’s servants to come out to visit them at two in the morning!’

Beth sighed angrily. ‘That was not my intention, as well you know.’

Marcus shifted on the seat. He was still holding her wrist and Beth had the unnerving impression that he would not let go of her until she came up with an adequate explanation. It was likely to be a long wait.

‘So your intention was—what, precisely?’

Beth flushed at his tone. She was conscious that her hair was tumbled about her face and that Marcus was looking at her in a speculative manner that just made her feel all the more self-conscious.

‘By what right do you quiz me anyway, my lord?’ she demanded. ‘It is not your place to question my conduct!’

There was a loaded silence, then Marcus shrugged. ‘I suppose not, Lady Allerton. And as a matter of fact I do know the reason for your appearance here. You had asked your coachman to be ready to depart in the early hours, no doubt wishing to gain a march over us!’ He smiled politely. ‘I am sorry that your plan has failed, but, you see, Justin and I felt that Fowler was deserving of several glasses of the best brandy as a reward for the work he had done today, and alas…’ He shrugged. ‘It has such a detrimental effect on one’s ability to drive a coach in the dark!’

Beth’s eyes narrowed furiously. ‘I see that you are intent upon corrupting my servants, my lord, as well as laying violent hands upon my person!’

Marcus was still smiling with infuriating calm. ‘It was in your best interests, Lady Allerton! Driving in the dark is not a good idea and I was anxious to save you from harm. I believe that there is a frost tonight and the going might have been slippery. As for laying hands on you, well—’ his gaze swept comprehensively over her ‘—I confess that it is tempting…’

Beth tried to pull away from him. ‘I did not mean now.’

‘I am well aware of what you meant.’ Marcus looked rueful. ‘However, you have put the idea into my head…’

Beth tried to draw away. The thought of Marcus fulfilling his threat gave her a feeling of nervous excitement that she tried hard to quell. She summoned up her most severe tone.

‘This is foolish, my lord! We are in a carriage in a stables in the middle of the night…’

‘True,’ Marcus said, sighing. ‘By all means let us be sensible and go back inside the inn.’ He let go of Beth’s hand and she immediately felt both disappointed and cross with herself. Marcus picked up the lantern, jumped down from the carriage and held a hand out politely to help Beth descend.

‘Take care, Lady Allerton. It is dark and the steps are steep.’

Beth was never sure whether she slipped first or if he tugged on her hand, but as soon as the words were out of his mouth, she lost her footing on the carriage steps and fell into his arms. This did not appear to cause Marcus any problems; he held her pressed close against him for a second, a second during which Beth became acutely aware of the strength of his arms and the hardness of his body against hers. Then he slowly let her slide down the length of him so that her feet were once more on the cobbles but the rest of her body was still in startling proximity to his. Beth tried to step back and regain her balance, but Marcus simply moved closer so that her back was against the side of the carriage and he had a hand against the panelling on either side of her.

‘My lord!’ Beth’s voice came out as a squeak.

‘Yes, my lady?’ Marcus’s voice was barely above a whisper. His lips grazed the skin just beneath her ear, sending shivers rippling all over her body. He raised one hand to brush her hair gently back from her face.

‘You said you would not!’ Beth tried to sound authoritative but knew she simply sounded dazed. ‘You said you would not lay a finger on me—’

Marcus stepped back a little and spread his arms wide in an exaggerated gesture of surrender. ‘I am not doing so.’

Beth frowned slightly. ‘Then…’

Marcus bent his head and kissed her.

It was like putting a flame to tinder. Beth’s lips parted instinctively as his mouth came down on hers, its first light and persuasive touch deepening swiftly into passion. She reached out to him and his arms closed about her, holding her tight and fast. Beth gasped at the sensation of sensual pleasure that swept through her and Marcus took immediate advantage, tasting her, teasing her, exploring her with a languorous expertise that left her weak with delight. A wave of heat washed over her that had nothing to do with shame and everything to do with a more primitive emotion.

Beth struggled against the compelling demand of the kiss, the invitation to lose herself in the intense web of desire that surrounded her. She had almost forgotten that they were in a stables in the middle of the night; almost, but not quite. She had no intention of allowing Marcus to seduce her in the hay, which she was sure he would do without any compunction
at all. She freed herself and Marcus reluctantly let her go.

‘What is it, sweetheart?’

Beth frowned. ‘It is just that it is not right, my lord!’ She cast him a fulminating look. ‘We are meant to be at odds—we
are
at odds—over Fairhaven and it is simply not appropriate for you to—’ She broke off hopelessly. In the torchlight she could see a faint smile curving Marcus’s mouth and it quite made her forget what she was talking about.

‘To kiss you?’

‘Yes! To kiss me and to make me forget…things.’

‘Things?’

Marcus stood back for her to precede him through the coach house door.

‘Things such as the reason why I was angry with you in the first place—apart from the matter of Fairhaven, I mean.’

‘Ah.’ Marcus sounded pensive. ‘I think we may put that behind us now.’

‘Well, I do not! If I could remember what it was…’ Beth tried to marshal her scattered thoughts, but they remained obstinately elusive. ‘When I do remember—’

‘Beth? What on earth is going on?’

It was Charlotte’s plaintive voice, emanating from the back door of the inn. ‘I woke up and found you missing—’