The Gallows Bride (18 page)

“
He’s detected a problem; just keep your face averted,” Peter
cautioned, unsurprised when she immediately slid across the wooden
bench until she was pressed against him.

Although
seemingly unperturbed, Peter practically hummed with tension as he
kept the horse at a steady pace down the main street. As he
approached his eyes met and held Hugo’s meaningfully for several
moments. He caught Hugo’s slow blink and quickly looked away,
urging the horse onward, past the inn’s entrance.

“
What is it?” Jemima whispered as they turned off the main
street and started to make their way out of the village.

“
I don’t know. We agreed that Hugo would ride ahead and check
the taverns before we arrived. If he saw anything unusual, he would
wait outside, so we could see him, so we knew not to
stop.”

“
Do you think it is Scraggan or his men?” Jemima’s stomach
lurched at the thought of such evil being so close. Suddenly the
discomfort of the bench beneath them seemed a minor thing, in
comparison to their safety. She felt a pang of loss for the easy
companionship they had shared throughout the day. Even the sun,
shining so brightly up in the sky, suddenly didn’t seem so warm or
so bright.

“
I don’t know.” Peter eased the reins into one hand and slid
his arm around her. “You’ll be all right, Jemima, I
promise.”

He hated
to see the haunted look return so easily, and cursed Scraggan for
his very breath for the damage he had done to such a wonderful
woman. Quickly checking the road ahead, he waited until the hedges
on the sides of the road disappeared before tipping her head
backward for a quick kiss. He took the opportunity to take a quick
look behind them, and caught sight of Hugo galloping across the
fields, clearly trying to get ahead and search for somewhere else
to stop.

Jemima
was so cold. Peter’s warm body sitting so close to her did little
to penetrate the chill that pervaded her bones, yet she returned
his kiss without hesitation. The warm reassurance of his chiselled
lips gliding softly over hers was so tender that she felt some of
her tension begin to wane. When he would have drawn back, Jemima
eased her hand into the soft hair at the nape of his neck and held
his head still while she deepened the kiss, reassured when he gave
her everything she asked for.

“
You’ll pay for that, minx,” he whispered huskily, placing one
last, lingering kiss on her lips before easing back. He eyed the
slight flush that gave her face a peachy glow with masculine
satisfaction, and continued to hold her tightly against him as he
settled back to study the area, urging the horse onward with the
reins.

“
What do we do now?” Jemima asked, still struggling to shake
off the sensual fog Peter had woven around her so
easily.

“
We move on to the next village,” Peter replied, catching
sight of Hugo heading around the village ahead. Clearly, they
wouldn’t be stopping at the next village either. Shaking his head,
he understood that Hugo wanted to put some distance between them
and whoever had just passed, but that didn’t do anything to aid
their sore bottoms, or help their tired horse.

As it
turned out, they travelled for several more miles until the sun was
beginning to wane, before Peter saw Hugo lingering ahead on the
outskirts of a small hamlet several miles away from
Gloucester.

They
were too close for Peter to make eye contact with him, but heaved a
sigh of relief when Hugo slowly turned his horse down the main
thoroughfare.

“
What is he doing?” Jemima whispered, casting a furtive glance
around.

Peter
smiled encouragingly at her. “He is signalling to us that this
village is fine, and we can go straight to the tavern.”

Jemima
scowled and wondered if she had missed something. “Is this some
sort of secret boy’s code?” She hated being kept out of the loop
and hated secrets even more.

“
If you like,” Peter replied, knowing she was waiting for him
to elaborate when she continued to stare at him. He could almost
hear her mentally tut and sigh at him, and fought the urge to
smile. “For both of our sakes, we cannot talk to Hugo directly. To
do so would immediately connect him to us and put all of us at risk
if Scraggan or his men are in the area. I don’t know what was back
there, but it was something that Hugo wasn’t comfortable with. We
have agreed that he will do certain things to tell me when places
are all right for us to approach. If he is visible and turned
toward us, he has seen something that could pose a threat. If we
have to drive through somewhere, Hugo is going to circle around us
and ride ahead, to check out the next few villages before we get
there. We are travelling a lot slower than he is, partly because we
have to travel by road, and partly because we have one horse
pulling the two of us. Hugo can jump fences and ride across country
to get where he needs to go, faster.”

Jemima
shook her head, and considered the lengths they were going to. She
was about to ask if all the subterfuge was necessary when she
remembered the stern look on Hugo’s face as they had passed, and
her own fear at the thought that Scraggan or his men were
nearby.

“
Are you sure you want to do this?” Peter asked after several
moments of thoughtful, yet tense silence. “It’s not too late to
turn back you know.”

Jemima
immediately thought of Eliza and Edward, and her friend alone and
at risk still in Padstow, and shook her head. “I have to do this,
Peter.”

Peter
sighed and shook his head. “Then onwards it is. I don’t know about
you, but if I stay on this seat any longer I may not be able to
stand upright again. Let’s hope Hugo has found us somewhere to stay
that isn’t too far away.”

“
Amen to that,” Jemima replied fervently. She realised she was
still pressed close to Peter, and wondered if she should ease back
a little. But he had made no protest at her closeness, and seemed
to have forgotten he still had his arm around her.

Placing
a gentle hand on his thigh, she lowered her head to his broad
shoulder, smiling slightly when his arm immediately held her near,
and he kissed the top of her head.

“
Are you alright?” he murmured gently, knowing how arduous the
day had been for himself, let alone Jemima, who was still
recovering from her ordeal.

“
I’m fine,” Jemima whispered, kissing his chin. “Just
fine.”

CHAPTER
SEVEN

“
Would you mind leaving a candle on tonight?” Jemima murmured
from beneath the sheets. They had followed the same nightly ritual
as the previous night. Peter had just returned from his meeting
with Hugo, and his absence had given Jemima a few moments of
privacy to see to her ablutions and get into bed.

“
Of course. I got some more candles from the innkeeper
earlier,” Peter replied, eyeing the tiny bed in
distaste.

Although
they had turned into the yard of the run-down inn with a sigh of
relief, their joy had been short-lived as they had studied the
shabby, unkempt state of the place. Luckily it hadn’t turned out to
be a bawdy house; Peter would certainly have refused to let Jemima
stay there, but it was only one very small step above.

He eyed
the sheets warily, unsurprised to find Jemima still in her shift
and lying beneath a threadbare blanket. The pillow covers they had
taken from the previous night’s inn covered the grime on the
pillows they were going to use.

“
If you wake up itching in the morning, it’s probably the
fleas on the bed, rather than me,” Peter declared flatly, opting to
remove his shirt but leave his breeches on, before climbing beneath
the blanket.

He
turned on his side to face her, knowing she was waiting.

“
It seems that Scraggan’s men were in the tavern,” Peter
announced, mentally cursing at the shadows that appeared in the
depths of her amber eyes. “It appears they are on their way back to
Padstow to tell Scraggan you are dead.” He had broken their
agreement and sought Hugo out to ask him.

“
How do we know that?” Jemima murmured, wondering if they were
a search party out to find them.

“
Because Hugo went in for a quick pint and overheard them
discussing the hangings. They were talking about who would get to
be the one who broke the news.” Peter yawned and rolled onto his
back.

“
That’s macabre,” Jemima grumbled, lifting her head as Peter
slid his arm across her shoulders to draw her close.

“
That’s Scraggan for you,” Peter countered, quirking a brow at
her and waiting while she found a comfortable spot on his chest.
They were already acting like a married couple, he mused silently,
staring up at the cracks in the water-stained ceiling with deep
masculine satisfaction warming the blood in his veins. Ignoring the
aching in his loins, he tried to ignore the dips and curves of her
feminine body lying against him, and closed his eyes.

“
Get some sleep, because it’s going to be another long day
tomorrow.” He smiled when Jemima groaned.

Sometime
during the night, Peter was woken by the sound of mumbling. Jemima
had moved to lie on her back and was now thrashing her head against
the pillow, whispering incoherently.

“
Jemima?” He rose up on one elbow and leaned over her to try
to shake her awake.

He
didn’t expect her eyes to pop open and for her to stare at him,
having seemingly brought herself out of her nightmare.

“
Peter? What is it?” Jemima whispered, staring deeply into his
tired eyes. She knew from the look on his face that she had been
having another dream, and turned her eyes to the candle stub on the
table beside them. Although it hadn’t burned out completely, the
solitary flame was so tiny that it did little to erase the darkness
within the room.

“
I’ll light another one,” Peter growled, fighting the urge to
kiss her. He studied her eyes carefully but could see no signs of
fear, or anxiety. The clear depths of her amber eyes shone brightly
in the darkness, free of shadows for once. He knew it was folly;
that to kiss her would bring more problems for them; but it had
been so long since he had touched her, he needed some reward for
his forbearance in keeping his hands off her so far.

He
lowered his head slowly to give her the opportunity to stop him,
and was unsurprised when she made no attempt to evade the gentle
kiss he placed on her lips. He captured her gasp and kissed her the
way he really wanted to.

“
Stop me,” he gasped several moments later, his body rock hard
and aching desperately.

Her only
response was to draw his head closer, and open her mouth beneath
the persistent pressure of his. At that moment, he was lost. His
love for her; the frustration of the months of endless searching;
the grief of losing her; together with the new easy companionship
they had discovered all drew together until they formed one solid
entity.

He
shifted, lowering his chest to the soft, thin material of her
undergarment. The dark hairs on his chest crinkled as they met the
soft material. Peter eased back and tugged the neckline down,
revealing her breasts to his hungry gaze.

Jemima
watched his head dip and felt the wondrous sensations streak
through her as she lay under his marauding mouth. She watched as
his lips caressed the swollen crest of her breast.

While
his mouth was busy, Peter eased his hands to the delicious
smoothness of her thighs, sliding beneath the hem of her shift and
drawing it upwards as his hands traversed each dip and hollow
before coming to rest just beneath her breasts. Holding them still
under the tender ministrations of his mouth, he suckled deeply and
was rewarded by Jemima’s soft cry as she arched off the
bed.

Releasing his prize for a brief moment, he tugged the shift
over her head and dropped it over the side of the bed, leaning back
to let his eyes roam over her bare flesh.

“
You are so beautiful, Jemima,” he groaned, sliding his hands
over the dip of her waist and the flare of her hips. He quickly
divested himself of his breeches, dropping those onto Jemima’s
shift, and resumed his position beside her, relieved that she had
made no attempt to stop what was about to happen.

He
captured her lips as his hands set to work to learn each loving
curve, moulding and shaping her breasts, teasing the budding peaks
mercilessly until Jemima began to squirm, searching for the
completion only he could give.

Jemima
arched her back, lost in the warmth of his mouth on the aching
peaks of her breasts. She slid a hand into the thick hair, holding
his head still, demanding his attention. Reassured she had his
complete devotion, she allowed her hands to wander over the smooth
skin of his broad shoulders, down over his heavily muscled arms,
and back up again. His muscles rippled as her hands swept over
them, easing down his sides to his lean hips.

He could
stand no more: releasing her nipple, he blew on it gently as he
eased Jemima’s questing hands away from his loins. Wrapping his
arms around her, he drew her hips upwards in his hands and
positioned himself between her widespread thighs.