Nothing but Trouble (11 page)

Charity
returned a few minutes later, a light wrap covering her gown, a confection of blue silk that brought out the fathomless blue of her eyes. He saw dainty slippers poking out from beneath her gown. Perfect attire for a night at the theater. Not at all suitable, though, for what they were actually going to do.

“Miss Medford, I fear the evening has turned chilly. Will you be warm enough?”

She glanced at her attire
. “I shall manage. The theater is often quite warm.”

Insisting she bring warmer clothing would only draw suspicion, so he let it go
. “Shall we be on our way, then?” He took her arm, escorting her from the house and down the short walk to his waiting coach. A footman assisted her up, and he followed quickly after.

She turned to him in surprise
. “I thought you said your cousins would be joining us?”

“
Yes. About that.”

This was it
. The telling moment. Suddenly he realized he should have practiced a speech. They were still too close to her home. He needed to buy time.

“I do hope you’ll forgive the impropriety, but we travel alone tonight.”

She was silent for a moment. “I have been alone in a coach with you once before.” He could hear a note of amusement creep into her voice. “I had not thought to make a habit of it.”

He reached for her
. “’Twould seem to me a fine habit to make.”

Her face fell
. “Lord Maxwell, I understand that the way we met might have conveyed the wrong impression about the type of behavior I typically engage in. And whatever rumors are being bandied about…”

“
Nay. It is I who have conveyed the wrong impression. What I meant was, it won’t matter once we’re married.” He drew his fingers along her hair, her chin, guiding her lips to his. Her body belied her words, for she did not pull away. He heard a soft sigh as he settled her more comfortably against him.

“But we are not married,” she murmured against his lips
. “And my reputation is already in tatters.”

He kissed her once, then again, unable to resist
. “A problem for which, fortunately, I know the remedy.”

She
gave a muffled laugh, and the remainder of her protest was swallowed by his kiss. He took her mouth fully, shaping her lips with his, delving inside to taste her. Her sharp intake of breath fueled his desire, as did the way she grasped him as though she were drowning and he the only rock amidst the swirling water. His tongue tangled with hers as he stroked her back, feeling the soft curve of her hip.

He pulled back just enough for air
. God. Who was this minx? A few kisses and he was practically panting, imagining her naked and writhing beneath him.

“We can’t,” she murmured, though her fingers running through his hair, clutching him to her, said they most certainly
could
.

“Aye, we can.”

“We haven’t time. We must be nearly to the theater by now.”

He followed the instructions of her fingers, rather than her words, and bent his head to hers once more.

Minutes later, the carriage hit a bump—just enough to jostle them apart. Just enough for Charity to regain her senses. She was breathing hard. So was he. He would have reached for her again, but she pressed her face to the small window. “Shouldn’t we have arrived by now?”

He could avoid the truth no longer
. “About that,” he said.

She turned her face back to him, and in the dim light he could see her eyes widen.

He took her hand. “Your sister told me you had a flair for drama. This should be right up your alley.”

Chapter
8
:

Sometimes,
reckless seduction achieves what proper courtship cannot.

“What? What should be up my alley?” Charity demanded. “Where are we going?”

“Gretna Green,” he informed her with more confidence than he actually felt
. “We’re getting married.”

“We’re doing what?” she screeched
. “No! We most certainly are
not
.”

“We most certainly are,” he countered
.

“This is
madness.”

“I prefer to think of it as daring
. And you, Miss Medford, are known to be daring, are you not?”

“But—”

“Our courtship is public knowledge. More public, as you yourself admitted, than is healthy for a maiden’s reputation. Once we are married, no one will question how the marriage came about. Or what we were doing alone together in a carriage. Or anything else they might think we have done.”

“Oh
, yes they will.” How could this be happening? Her situation had gone from dire to…to…

“Not for long
. Some other scandal will come along to distract the masses. Just think of the stories you can someday tell our grandchildren.”

“Grandchildren?” she squeaked
. She sucked in a breath and fought the urge to tug at her hair. What he said was true—the first part, at least. A rushed marriage invited speculation, but rarely resulted in prolonged censure.

But that didn’t mean she was ready for it
. “This is not a traveling carriage,” she pointed out.

He laughed
. “And here I thought the notion of marriage was what you objected to. Never fear, beautiful one. My traveling coach is being readied. ‘Twill be no more effort than stepping from one to the other, and we will be on our way.”

“I have nothing with me. No trunks, no clothing
…”

His smile grew. “Another problem that can be easily rectified
. We will send for your things to follow us. Ach. Look. Here we are.”

Sure enough, the carriage stopped
along the drive to a well-kept townhouse. A footman hurried to open the door. He assisted Charity down, with Graeme following scant inches behind her.

“As I said, a quick transfer of vehicles, and we shall be on our way
. Look, your carriage awaits.”

Just ahead on the drive, a lacquered black
traveling coach and team of six stood, the horses huffing and shifting their hooves as though eager to be off.

Charity couldn’t breathe
. Graeme held her hand, tugging her along so that she nearly tripped in the fluster of consternation…but not holding her so tight that she couldn’t have wrenched her arm free if she’d wanted to.

Did
she want to? She couldn’t even think. This past week had thrown her from dizzying heights, down to the depths of despair, and back up again. She’d thought her engagement over before it was ever officially announced. When he’d returned tonight, she’d been afraid to hope. Part of her still feared he’d come only because he was a man of his word. She hadn’t realized he was serious. No. That wasn’t it. She’d known he was serious about marriage. Just not that he meant to marry
now.

Before she knew it,
Graeme himself was helping her into the traveling coach. She couldn’t say he tossed her in, exactly, but it was hardly her most graceful entrance.

She landed with an
oomph
. Graeme landed across from her, and the coach took off at a pace that was surely unsafe on London’s busy streets.

This was not her first experience with being kidnapped
. Though, if she came willingly, Charity supposed it couldn’t quite be called kidnapping. This time, she knew one thing for certain, deep in her gut: Graeme had no intention of hurting her. From the very first night they’d met, he’d had the opportunity to take advantage. Yet he’d done nothing but protect her, even defend her. He admired and believed in her when the family and friends she’d grown up with did not. Reminding herself of that, she took a few slow breaths and tried to quell the nerves that raced through her.

“I left instructions with my secretary,” Lord Maxwell informed her
. “If I have not returned by tomorrow at noon, he is to deliver a pre-written note to your family, informing them of my—or rather, of
our
—intentions.”

She considered this
. “You do not wish them to fear for my safety.”

“Precisely.”

“Nor do you wish them to catch up to us.”

“Smart lass.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “I suppose it is as gentlemanly a gesture as one can make, given the circumstances.”

“I try.”

She could only imagine the pandemonium in her mother’s house when
that
letter was delivered. She was almost sorry to miss it.

Charity had never in her life been able to
say “no” to an adventure. She was certainly attracted to Lord Maxwell. Very much so. In fact, it was her inability to resist him that had landed her here in the first place. His solid strength, coupled with that smoldering gaze she often found focused on her, seemed to enthrall her. She longed to touch him, to sink gratefully into all he offered until she was lost. She supposed, all things considered, insisting on immediate marriage was the only gentlemanly thing he could do.

If it weren’t for her fears of marriage in general, of revealing her troubles when one of the uncontrollable nightmares came on, she’d have no qualms about marrying Graeme Ramsey Maxwell.

As if he could read her thoughts, he said, “All will be well.”

“But
…” Her ability to reason was shrinking in the face of his confidence. Finally she could come up with only one word. “Marriage!”

“Aye, marriage
.” His smile fell away as he searched her face. “Of course, I could never force you to speak the vows. I see I have taken you by surprise. You are nervous. Understandable. But think on it, love. If, by the time we reach Gretna Green, you decide you truly are against this marriage, I will relinquish my claim.”

“By the time we reach Gretna Green,” she muttered, “it will not matter
.” The trip to the little town just over the Scottish border would take three days, even traveling fast. By then, she’d have spent so long in the sole company of Lord Maxwell, with no chaperone, relative, or even a maid present, any remaining shreds of her reputation would be destroyed. If she refused to marry him at that point, even her own family would likely cast her out.

He peered at her, then nodded
. “You have a point. It is a risk I am willing to take.” He sat back, looking so smug she had to stifle the urge to wipe the look off his face with the back of her hand.

“You’re actually enjoying this,” she accused.

“What’s not to enjoy?”

“You’re kidnapping me!”

He cocked his head. “Now, now, lass. No need for such dramatics. Do you wish me to stop the carriage?”

That silenced her
. If she said yes, she had no doubt he would, in fact, stop. He would let her go. She
trusted
him.

It was a tough re
alization to swallow. It meant she had a role in whatever actions they took next. If she said nothing, if she continued on with this hare-brained scheme of his, she would have to own that choice.

One word from her, and he would stop the carriage
. She knew it. But what would she go back to?

She would return to a life where she was nothing but a burden to her family
. Confined by their protection, yet fearful because no amount of protection could guarantee her former captors would not someday find her. Alex’s men had found no trace of them. Most likely they were in countries far away, living new lives. They probably never thought of her. They might not even know she’d lived.

What if all her fears were for no reason
? She could be living in a trap of her own making. If she went home now, she would almost certainly end up a spinster. Her own actions had ensured that. Lonely, with nothing but her fears—and tipsy Cousin Lily—for company. Compared to all that Graeme offered, there really was no choice.

She scuffed the toe of her slipper on the floor of the carriage.

“Charity?”

She didn’t respond
. Couldn’t. She felt two strong fingers beneath her chin, the touch both easy and firm, commanding her to look at him.

“Do you wish me to stop
the carriage?”

“No
.”

It was barely a whisper
. She couldn’t hear it herself over the clattering wheels of the coach, but the movement of her lips was enough. He dropped his fingers and took her hand in his, instead.

“Try not to worry, lass
. These things have a way of working out.”

“They do
? How would you know? If you had done this before, you would already have a wife, and therefore have no need of hauling
me
off to Gretna Green.”

He chuckled
. “I assure you, I have never ‘hauled’ any woman to Gretna Green—nor entered vows of marriage in any other venue—before. I have never even desired to do so. You are the only woman who has ever driven me to such lengths.”

She smiled weakly
. “I suppose that is a compliment.”

“Of the very best sort.”

She had no response to that, so they rode in silence for a while.

Charity
assumed she would spend this journey on the edge of her seat, her knuckles white from gripping the edge, her head sore from her nervous habit of tugging at her hair. Instead, she fell asleep.

Outside of London, the coach slowed to a pace that allowed the driver to navigate around the inevitable ruts and pits left by spring rains
. Graeme’s driver was skilled, and the gentle rocking of the carriage lulled her like a babe. Charity stared out the small window as the lights they passed grew fewer and further between. Eventually, she felt her head begin to nod.

Graeme noticed too, shifting quickly to sit beside her
. He eased her head onto his lap. She was too overwhelmed to protest. Besides, it felt nice, she thought sleepily. He smelled good. And he was stroking her hair, making her want to stretch and purr, like a cat. She couldn’t remember why she was supposed to be mad at him. Oh…yes. He was abducting her. But he was going to marry her. And she wanted him to. That made it all right.

Charity shook awake a short time later, as the
country road grew bumpier, the ruts unavoidable. Still, she awoke cradled in Graeme’s arms, his body shielding hers from the bumps as best he could. She opened her eyes slowly and found him gazing down at her.

“Why me?” She spoke the first words that popped into her head.

“Why what, lass?” His voice sounded rough, as though he’d been asleep too.

“You are an earl
. You have your choice of women. Why me?”

“Fishing for compliments, are we?” he teased.

She pulled back in mock outrage, but doing so deprived her of the delicious heat of his body. She snuggled back closer.

“How is it,” she asked, “that an absurd solution such as running off to Gretna Green, and the Scottish wilderness after that, seems entirely reasonable when proposed by you?”

He chuckled. “Three reasons. One, I am a Scot. Runaway marriages are practically a time-honored tradition for my people. I am only doing what any respectable Scotsman would do. Two. You, my sweet, have a penchant for adventure, and I dare not guess how exotic a suggestion would have to be before you would truly deem it absurd. And, three,” he paused, cupping the side of her face and gazing intently at her. “Sometimes, you just know.”

“Mmm.”

He tipped her chin up, brushing her lips with his. “And then, there’s the kissing…”

“Oh, yes, the kissing,” she murmured against his mouth
. He tugged at her bottom lip playfully, then traced the edge with his tongue until she reciprocated. At her capitulation, he plundered her mouth, coaxing and stroking as heat pooled in her center and moved lower, down to her woman’s core, suddenly aware and aching.

Too soon, he tore his mouth from hers, shifting focus as he trailed kisses along her jaw, until he reached her earlobe and gently
nipped it with his teeth. His tongue traced the delicate line of her ear, until he found the spot just behind her earlobe. Desire shot through her as he lingered there. Her head dropped back, giving him greater access.

He cradled the back of her neck in one hand, as his other came up to cup her breast.

She moaned. Too much. Not enough. Too much fabric in the way. She wanted that large, rough hand touching her where she needed it most. She didn’t dare say anything, though. Ladies didn’t think such things.

Thankfully, she didn’t need to say anything
. He was of the same mind. His nimble fingers worked the laces and hooks that held her bodice in place, until he’d loosened them enough to tug it down, freeing her breasts to his attentions.