Married in Haste (21 page)

Pulling her skirt up one thigh, he slipped his hand under the petticoats and rubbed the warm, tender skin of her thigh. She sighed against his mouth, and he discovered she was already wet and ready for him.

Who would have thought that Tess Hamlin, the Ice Maiden, would be such a sensual creature? Her arms curved around his neck, the movement thrusting her breasts against his chest, and the next hour, aided by the rocking of the poorly sprung coach, passed very quickly and pleasurably indeed.

Later, sated and drowsy, his half-dressed wife in his arms, Brenn finally conceded that marriage wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

They stopped for lunch at a picturesque inn located beside a small stream. The food was delicious. They then continued their trip without taking time for rest. After another hour of travel, they turned off the main road to continue their journey to Wales. The poor condition of these roads would slow their journey. The luggage coach followed at an even slower pace.

Tess didn’t mind. She was completely lost in a world of passion. She had discovered the elixir, the meaning of life. Men and women should always make love, she decided. She could become addicted to it.

Tess, the Debutante, had vanished and in her place was a woman who was just now beginning to understand what life had to offer.

Her stocking feet in Brenn’s lap, she said, “I don’t want this trip to end. Not ever.”

He stopped massaging her foot. “It has to end if we are to reach Erwynn’s Keep.”

Tess stretched with the satisfaction of a cat, enjoying the way his eyes followed the movement of her breasts. Her husband was a passionate man. They were well-suited.

“I don’t need Erwynn’s Keep,” she said. “I have everything I want right here.” To emphasize her meaning, she lightly rubbed her foot against the masculine bulge in his breeches and almost purred when she felt him respond.

He laughed, his hand pushing her skirt up her leg. “Don’t tell me you are bored.”

“I could be amused.” She slid him a sly smile.

His fingers untied the garter of one stocking. “I think I can imagine a game or two we can play.”

Tess giggled. “You’re tickling.”

“Really? Right here?” His fingers found a new spot. A place that made her gasp.

But before she could answer, a pistol shot rang out.

The horses screamed in fear. The coach halted with a mighty jerk, throwing Tess to the floor. The postboy shouted as he tried to control the animals.

And then a strong male voice shouted, “Stand and deliver!”

“Highwaymen?” Tess said. She’d never imagined herself involved in anything so dangerous.

“Damn,” Brenn said succinctly. He lifted her back up on the seat, pulling her skirt down as he did so.

“Tess, put on your shoes. We are going to have company.”

“But what will they do to us?”

“Nothing, as long as we do what they say.”

She’d just slipped on her slippers when the coach door was yanked open. A bedraggled man in a burlap sack mask, with two holes cut out for eyes, ordered them to get out. “You first,” he ordered, pointing at Brenn with a huge, ominous-looking pistol.

Brenn held up his hands to show he had no weapon. “Easy with your weapon, mate. There is no need for bloodshed.”

The highwayman didn’t answer but stood back. Tess could see that as her husband unfolded himself out of the coach, his size and breadth made the highwayman nervous. Brenn started to help her down but a gruff command for him to move back from the coach door forced him to step back by the wheel.

Too frightened to speak, Tess climbed down. Her one stocking was still free of its garter and it hung loose around her ankle. Her hair was mussed. She refused to show fear.

The coach had been stopped where the quiet country road took a little dip into a gully. The area was framed by oak trees and overgrown hawthorn bushes. The luggage coach must have been at least a mile or more behind them.

The highwayman was not alone. His accomplice wore a similar mask and sat on a horse a few yards away, the rifle in his arms aimed straight at Brenn. The postboy, who in actuality was a man in his late twenties, stood with his hand on the horses’ reins so they wouldn’t bolt.

Tess choked back the desire to whimper and eased a step or two toward Brenn. She’d heard that people were robbed all the time, but this couldn’t be happening to her.

One of her trunks suddenly fell on the ground. She looked up. A third robber stood on top of the coach, ransacking her trunks.

She cried in outrage, and took a step toward the thrown trunk. The lid had come open and her delicate petticoats, scarves, and other intimate apparel were scattered all over the ground.

Brenn took her arm, silently warning her not to move. Of course, any movement from him was considered threatening.

The highwayman who had ordered them from the coach waved his pistol menacingly. “If you know wot’s good for you, you’ll step back and away.” He had a trace of the Irish in his muffled voice. “Or you could make it easy and just tell us where the money is.”

Brenn took two steps away from Tess. She started to follow him, but he gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head—no.

The Irishman nodded. “That’s right, guvner. Let the lady stay here.” He placed a hand on her arm and pulled her close. Tess glanced at Brenn, uncertain what to do. Then the Irishman pointed the pistol at her head. “Where is the money?”

Tess wished she were the type of woman who swooned. She would have liked very much to close her eyes and black out, but it wasn’t to be.

Suddenly, the man on top of the coach said, “This isn’t what I was brought in for. I don’t want any killing.”

“Shut your mouth and keep looking,” the Irishman ordered.

“The money chest is in the coach,” Brenn said.

“Well then, fetch it,” the Irishman commanded.

“Release her first,” Brenn countered. Tess could not believe how calm he was. She was ready to swallow her heart whole, and he acted completely undisturbed by the presence of weapons.

She stood so close to the Irishman, she could see his glittering eyes through the face mask. He exchanged a glance at the man on the horse. A silent communication seemed to fly between them before he roughly shoved her in the horseman’s direction.

The Irishman waved his pistol at Brenn. “Fetch the money.”

“Fetch it yourself,” Brenn said calmly. “It’s under the seat in the coach.”

The Irishman did not like his response at all, but he didn’t quibble. Instead, he stuck his pistol in the waistband of his pants. “Watch him close,” he ordered the rifleman and started to search inside the coach.

In a matter of seconds, the Irishman found what he was looking for. He straightened. In his gloved hands was the small money chest Brenn had been carrying around with him. “This is what we’ve been looking for! Let’s go, lads.”

Suddenly, Brenn moved, pushing Tess away as he reached in his pocket.

What happened next occurred quickly. A shot was fired. One moment the man sat on the horse, the next he had toppled over backward. The animal reared, its hooves too close to Tess for safety. She fell to the ground, covering her head with her arms.

The man on top of the coach jumped down, landing heavily. The Irishman shouted someone’s name. The coach horses whinnied wildly, thrashing in their harnesses. Heavy footsteps ran past her.

And then another shot was fired.

A heartbeat later, all was quiet.

Chapter Twelve

Tess opened her eyes in the silence. The rifleman lay less than five feet from herself. She saw his fingers make a crawling movement against the ground. Then his hand went slack and his eyes took on the cold-eyed stare of death.

Tess rolled over, ready to scream, but Brenn was by her side. He lifted her into his arms. “Are you all right?”

She nodded mutely, still too shattered to speak.

He hugged her close. “It’s over, Tess. You don’t need to be afraid. It’s over.”

The postboy spoke. “The horses don’t like the smell of death.”

“I’ll take care of it in a moment,” Brenn said impatiently.

“That other one ran into the woods,” the postboy informed him.

“And he won’t stop running until he reaches the sea,” Brenn answered. “Come, Tess, do you think you can stand now?”

She nodded. How could he be so calm? It was almost as if the taking of human life meant little to him.

On wobbly legs, she managed to regain her balance and let him lead her back to the coach. She sat on the step and then gasped when she noticed the Irishman’s body sprawled by the wheel. “Is he—?”

“Yes,” came Brenn’s grim reply.

“You should have seen Lord Merton, my lady,” the postboy said. “I’ve never seen a man move so fast.

He killed that one on the ground by the wheel with the man’s own gun.”

“What happened?” she asked Brenn.

“I moved faster than they did,” he answered.

“His lordship had a pistol,” the postboy said. “And good aim. Knocked the one right off his horse.”

“See to the horses,” Brenn ordered, his voice curt. He reached in the coach for the hamper of food he’d ordered earlier at the inn. There was a bottle of wine in it and he poured Tess a generous glass. “Drink this.”

“Is it true? Did you have a pistol?”

“Drink.”

She did as he asked and he pulled out of his coat pocket a pistol no larger than the palm of his hand.

“When did you put that there?” she asked.

“I always carry it.”

“I hadn’t noticed.”

Brenn shrugged. “There is no reason that you should.”

“I’ve never been more frightened,” she confessed. Her gaze strayed to the bodies stretched out on the quiet road.

“Don’t think about it.”

“It was so sudden.”

“They made their choices, Tess.”

“But it could have been you lying there.”

He frowned his answer. He obviously didn’t want to discuss it. Instead, he lifted the money chest from the ground. It had fallen open and a handful of gold coins spilled out.

“How much is in there?”

“A little less than two hundred and fifty pounds.”

“Two hundred and fifty pounds!” The words exploded out of her. “Why, that is an insignificant sum for which to risk your life!”

“Two hundred and fifty pounds is far from being insignificant,” he argued.

Tess shook her head. “Brenn, the petticoat for my presentation at Court cost more than that.”

He stared hard at her in disbelief. “You’re joking.”

“No,” she said with a shake of her head. “It is made of laces fashioned from silver and weighs almost more than the dress I wore, which is made of the finest brocade.”

He frowned at the petticoats and scarves scattered across the ground. “Is it one of those?”

“No, it’s on the luggage wagon.”

“Thank the Lord,” he said under his breath and bent down, favoring his bad leg, to pick up the coins off the ground.

At that moment, the luggage coach rolled around the bend with Ace tied to the rear. The postboy driving shouted for the horses to stop. He jumped down and came running to Brenn.

Willa’s head popped out of the coach window. A second later, she threw open the door. “What has happened, my lady?” she cried.

“We were almost robbed,” Tess said, surprised that her voice sounded so steady. “Come and help clean up the mess.”

Willa hurried to do as she was bid, making clucking noises of concern. When she saw the two men lying on the ground, she paused dramatically, clutching her heart. “Lady Merton—!”

“They are dead, Willa. They cannot bother us now.” She said the words calmly. In truth, she still hadn’t come to terms with what had happened. “Come and help repair these trunks.”

The other postboy looked around, taking in the petticoats and scarves strewn across the ground and the bodies of the dead men. “Blimey,” he said, one word and it seemed to sum it all up.

“You should have been here, Clarence,” their postboy told him. “Lord Merton took them both. I could barely believe my bleedin’ eyes.”

Brenn placed the money chest in the coach and then walked to the boot of the coach, pulling on his leather driving gloves. Tess followed. “What are you going to do now?”

He removed a small spade from a wooden box in the boot. “Bury the bodies.” His tone was grim.

“Why you? It isn’t your job. Have the postboys do it.”

“I killed them, Tess.”

His words startled her. “They would have killed us.”

“Aye, but once you kill a man, the least you can do is bury him.” He motioned to their postboy. “What is your name?”

“Tim, my lord.”

“Help me drag the bodies off the road, Tim. In fact, you help too, Clarence. Then I want the two of you to reload the luggage.”

They did as he said.

Tess and Willa were left alone. Willa kicked dirt over the bloodstains in the road. “It’s a pity when decent people can’t go where they wish without being set upon by murderers and vagabonds.”

Murderers. Tess pushed the thought out of her mind. It could have been Brenn or herself lying there.

A few minutes later, the postboys returned. One trunk was hopelessly damaged from being tossed to the ground. Willa carried on about the damage and made Clarence and Tim unload both coaches so that she could repack, something both men did reluctantly.

Over an hour had passed and Brenn hadn’t come back. How long did it take to dig a man’s grave?

After another thirty minutes in which Willa, Clarence, and Tim bickered incessantly, Tess decided to go look for him. “I’m going to find my husband.”

“He’s in a clearing down by the stream over yonder,” Clarence told her while Willa continued to tell Tim what a stupid knave he was.

Tess walked into the forest in the direction she’d seen the postboys return. In a few minutes, the coach was out of sight.

She stopped and listened. She didn’t hear digging but she could hear the sound of a stream making its way through the forest. She walked toward it and came into the clearing, just as Clarence had said.

Two fresh graves now rested beneath the shade of a spreading oak. There were no markers. Brenn’s jacket and shirt lay on the ground beside the graves.