Malia Martin (16 page)

“You did not ask me to quit before the captain arrived. You believed in me then,” she said, and immediately hated the pathetic words.

“Prudence,” Clifton said on a long-suffering sigh, “you can do anything you put your mind to, ’tis not you I’m afraid of. But I
am
afraid of the power he could have over you.”

And without putting it into words, they both knew of whom and what Clifton spoke.

Out of the corner of her eye, Pru saw Delilah quietly put down her stirring spoon and discreetly leave the kitchen.

“You do not show much confidence in me if you think I would allow him to have power over me.”

“You are naive, Lady Pru, and do not understand the sway this kind of thing can have over a man’s, or a woman’s, mind,” Clifton said solemnly.

When he had said the word “naive,” Pru had bristled, but because of Clifton’s demeanor and tone of voice, she stopped herself from making a cutting remark.

Clifton turned away from her and stared out a window. “I fear for the people of Gravesly, yes, and so I worry about this new man. I do not fear your ability or have any less confidence in you. I do, however, fear for you as a woman. The attraction you trifle with is something you do not understand.”

“He speaks true, Pru.”

Prudence had been so intent on Clifton’s speech, she had not heard Leslie enter the kitchen. Her butler turned quickly and stared at Leslie for a silent moment. Then he bowed slightly. “I must get things ready,” he said quietly and left through the back door.

Leslie stared after him with a bemused smile curling her lips. “I do know how to scare that man off, don’t I now?” She sighed, her bodice straining across her heavy bosom.

Pru turned to look at the back door, which had clicked softly shut after Clifton’s retreating figure. Her mind was awash with thoughts of the captain and his power over her, and along with those fears, the shock of Clifton’s searing glance at Leslie churned and roiled about. “You both think me so naive, but I do finally see that you are wrong, Leslie.”

The woman lifted her brows and turned her gaze upon Pru.

“You think Clifton hates you, that he runs from you, because he abhors you.”

Leslie frowned at Pru’s words.

Pru laughed without much humor. “It is funny, I think, that I should be the one to see this, when you are the one who sees all. Surely you must notice that he runs from you because he has feelings for you.”

Leslie made a sound of disgust. “Yes, dear, feelings of pure hatred.”

“That man looked at you like you were the last drop of water on a desert island just now, Leslie. I have seen that look only once before in my life.” Pru’s stomach tightened just from the memory.

Leslie stared at Pru, then blinked. “Goodness,” she said as if she had just seen a vision of angels.

Pru bit her lip, but couldn’t stop the small giggle that escaped.

Leslie plopped down upon a chair. “Really, Pru, you are not jesting with me, are you?”

Pru laughed outright and shook her head. “No, Leslie, there was no misunderstanding the look in Clifton’s eyes just now.”

Leslie nodded, her gaze thoughtful. “I do believe you are right, Pru. He runs from fear, not hate.” She sat up, determination glinting in her eyes. “Get that man back in here right now.”

Pru’s laughter died a sudden and silent death. “Now, I am not sure …”

“Go get him.”

Pru jumped up off her stool and went to the back door. “Clifton,” she called, her voice a bit wobbly. She cleared her throat and yelled again, “Clifton, come here, please!”

They waited quietly, Pru not at all sure that Clifton would heed her call. But then she saw the man stomp out of the stable and come up the garden path.

He stared warily past her and into the kitchen, and stopped before he reached the door. “What do you need, Lady Pru?” The poor man was scared to death to come into the kitchen.

“Clifton, I need you,” Pru said, gesturing for the butler to enter. Pru felt Leslie beside her and watched as Clifton’s eyes rounded in what could only be fear.

Pru had never seen Clifton afraid of anything. She stood stunned as she realized that her friend was right; Clifton had always run from Leslie Redding because he was afraid, not because he could not stand her.

Leslie put her hand on Pru’s shoulder. “You have brought him far enough,” she said, and walked past Pru into the garden.

The woman went to stand before Clifton, and the butler did not move an inch. The poor man looked as if a poisonous snake had just wriggled out of the house and begun speaking to him.

Only Leslie had not yet said a word.

Pru watched for a long moment, very much intrigued at what Leslie would do, then she realized that she should not be so nosy. Reluctantly, she turned back into the kitchen and sat on her stool. Taking up another potato, Pru scraped her knife over its skin. She kept her ear cocked toward the outside door, but heard nothing at all.

A good half an hour later, Leslie swung through the door with a big smile. She plunked down beside Pru and grabbed a potato. And then she peeled it, humming to herself the whole time.

Pru waited through two whole potatoes before she dropped her knife with a clunk and planted her fists on her hips. “Well?” she asked, exasperated.

Leslie shrugged one shoulder, but did not look up from her task. “Well,” she said, “I’ve given Eurel a few things to think about.”

“And …” Pru prompted her friend.

“And, I want to thank you for pointing out what I should have seen years ago.”

With a long sigh, Pru picked up her knife.

Leslie laughed. “I really did not say much, Pru. I stood really close to him, and looked in his eye, and then I told him that I loved him, and that he should consider himself a hunted man from now on.”

Pru blinked. “And I thought I had been forward with the captain.”

Leslie threw her now white potato in the basket. “Some situations warrant fast action.”

With a nod, Pru went back to her work. “You are a wise woman, Leslie Redding, very wise.”

His simple dinner with the Sawyers had turned into a country fair. And he was the star attraction.

He sat now in Lady Farnsworth’s garden surrounded by a bevy of attentive faces, all wanting to hear of his exploits with the French. And he had to admit that he was terribly flattered, as well as very suspicious.

He had, again, thought trap, when the town decided to honor him with an impromptu party. He wondered if it was a distraction of some sort. He had told the officers, Pimpton and Lyle, to scout Gravesly during the party.

But, truly, the entire town was here at Chesley House. James had ticked them all off on a mental list, and he constantly looked about to see if anyone had gone missing.

He had actually started wondering about Harker, but there he was under one of the lanterns with a woman who had been introduced as Miss Templeton.

“Captain Ashley, what happened then?” a little voice piped up in front of him.

James looked down at the small faces surrounding him and laughed. “Sorry,” he said quickly, and returned to his story. Parents ringed their circle, also enthralled with his stories, and beyond them he could see out of the corner of his eye Prudence Farnsworth.

He resolutely kept from staring straight at her, for he was not sure that he could control the emotions that would surely cross his features, lust being the primary one and obviously not something he wanted people to see.

Fear hunkered in his heart as well, and confusion and anger and frustration. And it all had to do with Prudence Farnsworth.

Of course, it was compounded by the fact that he had been in Gravesly nearly a week and discovered absolutely nothing. The only clues that the town harbored a smuggling gang were the images of wolves that adorned every single doorframe in the town.

And those small, carved insignia would surely drive him to bedlam.

A crack of thunder interrupted the end of James’s story, and every face in the crowd glanced toward the heavens. They waited a moment in silence.

It was another warm night, too warm, James realized in that moment, the air heavy.

And just like that the sky opened and dumped buckets on the town of Gravesly. The entire lot of them ran for little Chesley House, women taking in trays of food, men grabbing children and slinging them over their shoulders, and the children giggling, screaming, and scuttling around the already muddy garden.

James stood and slicked back his soaked hair so that he could place his drenched hat upon his head. Lyle and Pimpton chose that moment to scurry up the hill.

“Nothing happening, Captain,” Lyle said quickly, and ran for the house.

Pimpton just nodded his agreement. James had yet to hear the thin, young man say one word. Perhaps he was mute?

James stood staring back at the dark town, contemplating a quick trip down the hill, but his arm was caught against the warmth of a body.

Without looking, he knew Prudence clung to his elbow. His entire body knew when she was near, every sense taking in her smell, sound, and feel. That he craved to taste her as well made James nearly tear out of her grasp and run.

“Come, James,” she said. “Some of the men have brought instruments; we can clear the furniture in the parlor and dance until dawn.”

James. She called him James. No other woman besides his mother had ever used his name.

He should probably tell her not to call him that, but he liked the sound of it on her lips.

She tugged on his arm, and they sloshed through puddles to the house. He glanced down at her and realized that her wet gown was plastered to her body. He could see the tight buds of her swollen nipples.

God help him.

Prudence opened the back door, and they entered the dark, slightly cool kitchen.

“You should change your dress,” he said.

“Oh no,” Prudence laughed. “Everyone is wet, and it isn’t very cold. We will dance to warm ourselves, and shan’t get sick, I’m sure.”

Suddenly James could think of nothing worse than for the entire town to see Prudence the way he saw her now. He stared at her breasts, then the soft swell of her belly and thighs.

“No,” he said, his voice rough. “Go. Change.”

“But …” She stopped, her gaze climbing his own wet chest to burn into his eyes.

They stood just staring at one another for a moment that seemed like an eternity.

She blinked then and took a step toward him, and the scent of her made him dizzy. He felt like he was leaning over the bow of a boat, staring into the dark, swirling waters of the ocean. If he jumped in, he would drown. But he knew he would jump.

Why, he wondered absently? Since Melissa, he had always been able to resist women with titles. At times it had been difficult. Never had it been impossible.

W
hy now? Why now, did his body find the woman that it would surely never be able to resist?

Now, when he needed desperately to focus on his job and bring honor to his much-belittled reputation. Now, when he was so close to the glory he had dreamed of his entire life. Now he was to be brought low by the one thing that had never made a problem of itself.

He raised his hand and placed it against Prudence’s throat. It was slender, but strong, and her heartbeat raced against his fingertips. He let his hand drop, his palm covering one of her straining nipples.

She let out a small sound, and he lowered his mouth and kissed her. Her lips were parted, and he touched his tongue to her teeth with a deep, inward sigh. She tasted divine.

He wanted to drown in her.

In that moment, everything left James’s mind except the intense desire to lay Prudence out on the stone floor and bury himself inside of her. He shifted the sodden fabric of her dress and cupped her bare, cool breast in his hand as he continued to take her mouth in a deep kiss that would surely be the end of him.

“Goodness,” Prudence whispered into his mouth, and then her breath hitched deliciously when he let his thumb track a light trail over her nipple.

All that mattered to him then was making Prudence Farnsworth sigh with pleasure. He tasted her mouth once more, then trailed kisses across her jaw and down her neck.