Lord of Ice (14 page)

CHAPTER
FIVE

“I say, stand aside!” the first boy yelled.

“Who’s this?” the tutor murmured.

But Miranda could only stare in dread. The moonlight outlined the big, broad-shouldered silhouette of a man standing in the road, sword in hand—six feet of powerful, angry male—a tough, taciturn force of destruction. His breath clouded around him in puffs of steam, shrouding him in mist like some warrior out of legend.

“Halt!” his deep voice bellowed.

“Do as he says,” she blurted out, terrified that he might go on the rampage as he had last night.

“You know him?” the second boy exclaimed.

“It’s . . . the colonel,” she said faintly.

The curricle had hardly stopped, but Damien was already stalking over to it.

“You said he was old!”

“What is going on here?” their tutor demanded.

“Now, look here—!” The first boy gulped, swallowing his protests, as he stared down Damien’s sword, the tip of which suddenly hovered an inch away from the throat.

“Winterley! Don’t hurt him; it’s my fault!” Miranda cried, aghast.

“Colonel . . . Lord Winterley?” their tutor breathed in dread.

Damien’s steely gaze swung from him to Miranda.

She pointed to his weapon. “Put . . . that . . .
down
!” She held his stare unflinchingly, willing him to get control of his fury.

Slowly, the battle rage cleared from his eyes, but his lips twisted in a proud, defiant snarl. He lowered his sword and slammed it point-first into the muddy road, driving it several inches into the ground so that it stood where he left it, jutting out of the earth, vibrating with the force of his movement. Without a moment’s hesitation, he reached up, lifted her bodily out of the carriage, and slung her over his shoulder.

Miranda shrieked as she swung down over his broad back.

“Give me her bag,” he growled at the lads.

The tutor handed it over in awe. “Please forgive the boys, my lord. The young lady told quite a cock-and-bull story.”

“I can imagine,” he said through gritted teeth, then pivoted toward the inn.

“Damien, put me down!” Miranda cried, shaking her long hair out of her face, but his grip on her was iron. He went and retrieved his sword.

Carrying her effortlessly over his right shoulder, her satchel and his weapon in his left hand, he strode across the yard and back inside, not relenting even as he marched through the lobby, past the astonished maitre d' and up the stairs. She cringed with mortification, dreading what he might do to her the moment they were alone. She didn’t have long to wait. All too soon, he was marching swiftly down the hallway on the third floor. He slammed the door of her room open and strode inside, kicking it shut behind him. Crossing the room in three strides, he threw her down on the bed.

She landed on her back on the soft mattress and stared up at him, her heart in her throat as he loomed over her, fierce and wild, the few top buttons of his shirt undone down his bronzed, heaving chest.

“You ungrateful . . . reckless little . . . hellion!” He pivoted on his heel and took a few paces away from her, turning his back on her.

Warily, she eased up to a seated position, not daring to take her eyes off of him. He lowered his head and rested his hands on his lean waist. She stared in fright at his giant shoulders rising and falling as he struggled to tame his wrath.

“Why did you run from me?” he asked in a numb tone, not turning around. “How did I possibly wrong you?”

She clung to her pretense. “I’m going to become an actress, and you can’t stop me!”

He spun around and glared at her. “Do you think I want this any more than you do? Do you think I have nothing better to do with my time than play nursemaid to you?”

“Let me go and be done with it, then!”

“Would it were possible, but I have a duty to your uncle. Good God, girl! Going off with strangers?”

“You’re a stranger,” she said in a low tone of defiance.

“You trust them more than you trust me? But, of course. You
don’t
trust me, do you, Miranda? I only saved your life. I only took a bullet for you. That’s why you spent the whole day lying to me. Well, that’s your game, isn’t it? The minute I turn my back, you run. Are you too much of a coward to confront me face-to-face?”

She started to protest, but he cut her off.

“No. No more lies. I understand you better than you realize, Miranda. You want to be an actress because you crave the applause, I know. You think your audience gives a damn for you, but I’m going to tell you the unvarnished truth: Those men only want to bed you,” he said harshly. “Trust me when I say that men don’t have the slightest respect for the kind of woman you want to become. Where will they be when your beauty fades? Do you know where actresses past their prime end up? In the gutter, that’s where. Forgotten. Alone. Is that what you want?”

“You don’t know what I want,” she forced out, her whole body shaking at his tirade. He had seen through her with such devastating clarity. She looked away.

“Applause isn’t love, Miranda.”

“It’s close enough for me.”

“No, it’s not. Lord, you are a vexing chit! You want someone who will stand by you. Care for you. Take up your battles for you. What you need is a husband, so quit bloody fighting me, come to London, and let me find you one!”

“Why do you even care what I do?” She jumped off the bed and stood before him, out of patience. “Why don’t you mind your own business? I don’t want your help. I don’t need a guardian. Leave me alone! As your ward, I hereby absolve you of all responsibility—”

“I have a legal responsibility to you that is not so easily shed, besides which, I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing it for Jason.”

“He’s not here to check up on you, if you haven’t noticed. He’s dead,” she said bitterly.

“You watch your tone when you speak of my friend,” he warned. “A promise is a promise, and I gave him my word. Now hand over your room key. I’m locking you in until morning.”

“The devil you will!” She dove toward the small nightstand where she had left the numbered key and grabbed it.

Glowering sternly at her, Damien stretched out his hand in front of her. “Give it to me, Miranda.”

She put it behind her back, her heart pounding. “You can’t have it. I won’t let you lock me in.”

“Stop being a child!” He grabbed for it, seizing her wrist, trying to pry her fingers open. “Damn it, Miranda, I’m not going to let you throw your life away!” he said through gritted teeth as they struggled. “You’re not going to be an actress; you’re going to be a respectable woman, as Jason wanted! Yield, you insufferable shrew!”

With that, he easily overpowered her and pulled the key out of her hand.

She lost her hold on it with a wild cry. “I hate you!”

“I don’t give a damn.” He pivoted and stalked toward the door. “I advise you to get some sleep. The coach leaves early.”

Aghast at the realization that in mere seconds, she would be locked in, prevented from going to Amy’s rescue, Miranda watched him striding toward the door. “Winterley! Don’t do this!”

“You can’t be trusted. You leave me no choice.”

Tears jumped into her eyes. “Wait!”

He paused and glanced warily over his shoulder. “What do you want?”

She swallowed hard, her pulse slamming in her arteries. “I wasn’t running away to be an actress.”

“Yes, you were—”

“Yes, but only because I have no choice.”

“What can you possibly mean?”

“I want to go to London with you. I want to be a lady. But I can’t only think of myself. That’s why I have to be an actress. But I had to go back to the school first.”

“What? You’re not making any sense.”

“Oh, Damien,” she whispered, shaking her head. “All is not right at that place. You don’t understand. Please.”

“What is the matter, Miranda?” he asked in a hard tone. “Come to the point.”

She closed her eyes for a second, trembling.
I cannot believe I have to tell him this.
But he gave her no other choice. He probably wouldn’t even believe her. It was her word against the vicar's, and she had already proved herself a bit of a liar.

But he had to believe. He had to.

She braced herself, took a deep breath, and flicked her eyes open again, evenly meeting his penetrating gaze. “Do you remember the little girl with the golden ringlets? She curtseyed to you in the schoolyard.”

He nodded skeptically.

“She’s in serious danger,” she choked out.

He rolled his eyes and started to turn away. “Another of your cock-and-bull tales.”

“No! Damien, please listen to me! I have to go back and get her. You’re right; I was lying to you today, pretending to do whatever you said. And I lied to those boys in the curricle. I was planning all day on going back and saving Amy.”

“From what?”

She held him in a stare of stark, silent pleading. “Mr. Reed.”

He shook his head blankly. “What do you mean?”

“What do you think I mean?” she whispered with failing bravado, shaking visibly now.

Staring at her, he walked back slowly toward the bed. He rested his hands on his lean hips and searched her face. “Go on.”

“He . . . harms the girls. He is not . . . natural. Nobody else knows what’s really going on inside those walls. He flogs us with a b-birch rod.” She squeezed her eyes shut in disgust and forced herself to say it. “He . . . touches us. And himself.”

When she forced herself to look at him again, there was murder in his eyes. He lowered himself to sit on the bed beside her, rubbing his mouth for a moment.

His voice was very quiet, very controlled. “I’m listening.”

“It’s the little ones he goes after. He likes them when they’re still flat-chested.” Bitterness rose in her throat. “I think it’s the only reason he started a girls’ school in the first place. He’s had his eye on Amy Perkins for months now, but so far, I’ve been able to keep her out of his path. Tonight, with me gone . . .” She faltered, fairly paralyzed with fear at the thought of what might be happening already. “Oh, Damien, please. We’ve got to help her. She’s only twelve. He’ll wait until the other girls go to bed—”

“I’ll handle it,” he whispered. Reaching out, he took her hand and held it for a minute between both of his. “You’re telling me the truth? Because I’m going to put my reputation behind this. My honor on the line.”

“Yes,” she whispered with an imploring sob, then quickly wiped away a tear.

He reached out and cupped her cheek in his hand, staring fiercely into her eyes. His voice was brusque, the underlying rage tautly controlled. “Nobody hurts you anymore, do you understand? You are under my protection now—”

She moved into his arms before he could finish, hugging him tightly around his neck. She clung to him, pressing her shivering body flat against his. His arms encircled her hesitantly. He stroked her hair for a moment, then just held her.

“Angel, I know you’re scared of me after last night,” he whispered, “but no matter what happens, you can trust me. Just give me one chance to show you that.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, too moved by his words even to address them. Knowing that time was of the essence, she somehow pulled back and looked into his eyes. “I want to come with you,” she said in a shaky voice. “The girls will need me.”

He nodded and rose, but she reached for his hand, staying him.

“Damien, please, no more bloodshed. I know he deserves it, but I don’t think I can bear it.”

He lifted her hand to his lips and bowed his head, pressing a kiss into her palm. “Not for the world would I ever frighten you again.” Tenderly, he closed her fingers into a fist, as though to save his little kiss for later. Releasing her hand, he prowled to the door and opened it. “Get yourself ready. I’ll hire a carriage. A fast team can take us there in an hour and a half,” he said, the light from the hallway glimmering along his profile.

She nodded, too choked up to voice her gratitude. Then he went out, leaving her holding her curled fist against her chest and trembling in the dark with the frightening newness of having someone on her side.