The Rebel (28 page)

There could no longer be any denial.
Nicholas already had become much more to Jane than she would have
thought possible. Still though, she had gone this route once before
and had suffered. And what was worse, this time around she saw the
journey would be even rougher and more painful.

She tore her mouth away and pushed at his
chest. He immediately let her go. Jane took an immediate step back,
but couldn’t bring herself to look into his face.

“We should go…’tis late. They shall be
worrying about you.” She took a few steps toward their horses, but
turned around when she realized Nicholas was not coming.

He hadn’t moved. He stood there among the
stones, the moon behind him, his face in shadow, watching her. Her
own heart was hammering in her chest, her tingling body crying out
for his touch. It took all of her strength not to run back to
him.

“Nicholas, I…I am planning to go back to
Ballyclough tomorrow. I will be going from there and making other
visits, too. If you…if you wish to come with me…”

“I do.”

She tried not to be distracted by the relief
washing through her.

“Then…I shall let you know tomorrow
morning.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

*****

Patrick placed a firm hand on Ronan’s arm,
stopping him from moving out of the ruined cottage.

“Nay, ye have no business going out there.
Let’s get back to the horses.”

“I’ve business enough.”

“Ye’ll not lay a hand on her.”

“I’ve nothing against Egan. That filthy
English bastard is another thing entirely.”

“He’s done nothing to rile ye.” Patrick
watched the two begin to mount their horses.

“The dog has made a pact with Musgrave,
hasn’t he?”

“We don’t know if he has or if he hasn’t. We
only know that he went into the barracks at Buttevant alone and
came out with Seamus’s widow. We don’t know what went on there, but
I’m thinking we have as much reason to be thankful as we do to
suspect him. Maybe more. We don’t know what that magistrate will do
for someone like him.”

The two men, keeping an eye on the barracks
since news of Rita’s arrest, had followed Spencer and the widow to
Ballyclough, and from there they’d kept a discreet watch on
him…until Egan had caught up to the man halfway to Woodfield
House.

“I still want to break the bastard’s
neck.”

Ronan’s menacing tone made Patrick put a
hand on the fighter’s muscular arm. “Ye want to break his neck,
sure, but is it because he was kissing Egan, maybe?”

“The man is taking advantage of her,” Ronan
growled.

“Ye seem to be forgetting that she’s the one
that came after him,” Patrick retorted. “When are ye going to get
it in yer thick head that Egan is a grown woman? She doesn’t need
the likes of ye to be pining and drooling after her like some
lovesick whelp.”

“What do you mean, the likes of
me
?”
The young man turned fiercely toward his companion. “The likes of
him
is what she’s been running away from all these years.
She…she’s fond of me. She’s just waiting for me to do the
asking…and she’ll be taking me in the place of Conor…bless
him.”

Patrick shook his head disbelievingly. “I’m
thinking when she calls you ‘runt,’ she must be talking about size
of your brain.”

“Ye may be my mate, Paddy, but ye are about
to feel my knuckles on yer head.”

Patrick met Ronan’s glare without flinching.
Age and experience gave him an upper hand that he knew Ronan would
not test.

“Ye can do yer worst with me anytime, Ronan,
but get it in yer thick head right now that ye’ll never do for her.
Ye’ll never be a Conor. And ye have a better chance of becoming
Lord Lieutenant of Ireland than ye do of making her take ye as her
man. I’ve known Egan since she was a wee spit of a lass, and I’m
telling ye
she
is one that’ll be doing her own
choosing.”

Patrick looked over his shoulder and found
Egan and the Englishman had disappeared. Thank the saints.

“I say Liam should know about all of
this.”

The older man returned Ronan’s hostile
glare. “And Liam will. But remember, not a word about this kissing
business, or I’ll tell Egan myself about your stupid notions of
becoming her man.”

Ronan waved off the threat and started out
of the cottage with Patrick on his heels.

“And God help you then, runt.”

The moment he heard the light tap on the
door, Nicholas yanked open the latch and grabbed Jane’s arm. Her
gasp of surprise was silenced the next instant when he closed the
door again and pressed her back against it. The next moment his
mouth was ravenously devouring hers.

It was some time before he drew back and let
both of them catch their breath.

“I do not recall…ever being so delighted
with a morning greeting.” She smiled up at him.

“That’s because I had all night to plan
it.”

“You have quite a way with words, Sir
Nicholas.”

His body was still pressing hers against the
door. The mold of her soft curves against his hard edges was
perfect. “I didn’t care much for your insistence on arriving at
Woodfield House at different times last night. I had no chance to
kiss you goodn…to say goodnight.”

Jane’s dark eyes danced with mischief, and
her arms tightened around his waist. “Are you telling me that the
want of a single kiss last night is responsible for your greeting
this morning?”

“Very well. It wasn’t only the kiss…but
everything about you that is responsible.”

His mouth descended. This time with
patience, he coaxed and parted her lips again, his tongue darting
inside to sample and tease and unleash her passion. Jane’s body
arched against his. Her hands rubbed the shirt’s fabric against his
back, and her hip answered the slight but seductive movement of his
own.

Nicholas dragged his mouth to her ear and
bit on the lobe. “All night I dreamed that I was making love to
you.”

His hand pressed against her breast through
the dress, and he felt the peak of the nipple harden as his thumb
brushed over it. Jane laid her head back against the door and
closed her eyes, and he tasted the skin of her neck.

“You were here. We locked the door.” His
hand moved down the front of the dress. “I slowly peeled away each
layer of your clothing until my mouth tasted and feasted on every
inch of your sweet flesh.”

A low moan escaped her lips when Nicholas’s
hand cupped her mound through the layers of cloth.

“We made love on that bed…and then on the
floor…and once there on the chair, with you mounted upon me…and
once more against this door.”

Her face was flushed. Her eyes, incredibly
dark and large, opened and stared at him when he pulled up the
heavy fabric of her skirts and pressed his fingers against her
moist folds.

“What do you say to that, Jane?” He brushed
his lips against hers while his fingers stroked her below. “What do
you think of my dream?”

He didn’t wait for an answer and slipped his
tongue between the parted lips. He felt the moan of pleasure as his
fingers copied the motion of his tongue.

The time for questions or answers was past,
now, and he pleasured in her body’s responses as his gentle
ministration of her flesh set her on fire. Slowly, expertly, he
manipulated the center of pleasure and sweet torment, lifting her
ever higher, reveling in her cries of release as she finally came
apart in his arms.

Fighting to ignore his own raw need,
Nicholas cherished the feel of her in his arms. He loved the
softness and the strength—the struggle and the surrender—the beauty
and the intelligence. He held her tight while the waves of release
continued to ripple through her, and kissed her tenderly.

The sound of two women’s voices in the
corridor outside his door jerked Nicholas back to reality. Jane
descended like a stone from her place of bliss, and he couldn’t
help but smile at her efforts to focus on the present. He dropped
her skirts and pushed her behind him as the knock came. Nicholas
chuckled inwardly, thinking it was a good thing he hadn’t dragged
her directly to his bed for he hadn’t even latched the door. With a
reassuring look at Jane, he opened it a little.

The surprised faces of two young servants
greeted him.

“Oh, sir…begging yer pardon, sir. We saw yer
valet and…we…”

“We thought…ye were already…down…taking your
breakfast…downstairs…”

“We were making up the bedchambers
and…and…”

“Come back in half an hour,” he told them.
“Then you can do with the room what you will.”

Both curtsied hurriedly and disappeared down
the hallway. Nicholas waited a moment and then cast a quick glance
up and down the now empty corridor before closing the door.

“I…I cannot tell you how shocked I am…by my
own behavior,” Jane whispered from the wall. A trembling hand
pushed loose tendrils of hair behind an ear. “Acting the way I
did…falling so wantonly into your arms…allowing you to...”

“Yes, such a moment can leave you shockingly
satisfied.” Nicholas pulled her away from the wall and into his
arms. “If it were not for those two coming back, I would show the
meaning of wantonness.”

He brushed his lips against hers, and he
felt her body melt again into his embrace.

“Tell me, my love. Where are you taking
me?”

It took her a moment to focus on his words,
but he watched her eyes clear as she placed her hands on his
chest.

“As it turns out, only to Ballyclough to
check on Rita and her children, and back again.”

“Nothing after that? No bishops to rob? No
kingdoms to overthrow?”

“On the days that I spend at Woodfield
House…of which there are many…I use the afternoons painting.”

“And where to you paint?”

“In my work area, in the attics.”

“Will you take me there?”

Jane fixed a wry look on him. “Are you
always so demanding?”

“Only when I can get away with it.”

“Why do I have this feeling that there is a
great deal that you get away with.”

She smiled up at him, and Nicholas held her
tightly, cherishing the wild beat of their hearts.

“I will take you there, sometime. But we do
have more important duties to attend to first.”

Nicholas couldn’t bring himself to let this
moment go. “Tell me, are you going to force me to wait for five
minutes after you have left before I can face the household? I will
not be required to go to breakfast by way of Cork City, will
I?”

“As a matter of fact, I am going to insist
that you go and have breakfast with my family without me.” She did
manage to break free of him. “Apparently, my mother was complaining
incessantly yesterday about not seeing you. You can meet me at the
stables when you are finished.”

He caught her arm as she reached for the
door. “I will only go down into that den of lions if you come with
me.”

“Are you serious?” she scolded over her
shoulder before peeking out into the corridor. “Do you want the
pyramids to crumble? The oceans to run dry? Nay, sir. If I join
them, they will think the Second Coming is surely at hand.”

“Jane, I will
not
go down if you will
not join me. We can leave for Ballyclough now.”

“But we cannot just go,” she insisted, her
expression growing serious. “In spite of anything you say…about
your plans not to marry Clara…they have high expectations of you
down there, and it is…”

“Then come with me.”

“Heavens, you are stubborn, sir.”

“Come Jane. We shall go down separately and
behave as perfect strangers.”

As she stared at the door, considering
momentarily, Nicholas had to stop himself from bending down and
placing a kiss on her long and beautiful neck.

“I just want to look across the room and see
your beautiful face before me.”

“Well, that is too much to ask.” She sent
him a cross look.

“What? Sitting across the room from me?”

“Nay! Making my face beautiful.”

He laughed and placed that kiss on her neck
to show her exactly how beautiful he already thought she was. Jane
sighed contentedly but then placed a hand on his chest.

“Very well. But I shall make my entrance
before you. And not one look…nor touch, either…”

“I give you my word.” He stole another kiss
before she quietly slipped out of the room.

Nicholas buttoned up his shirt, tied his
cravat, and reached for his jacket. Glancing once in the mirror, he
was amazed at the starry-eyed face staring back at him. He’d seen
other men wearing this look, he realized.

Men in love.

***

“What do you mean,
she’s disappeared?” Sir Robert Musgrave planted his hands on the
desk and pushed himself to his feet. “Yesterday, you told me the
woman is old and blind. How far can a blind, old woman go?”

“We have turn the cottage inside out.”

The captain of the dragoons was sitting bolt
upright in his chair. He was an idiot, of course, Musgrave thought,
but he was also the youngest brother of the Earl of Kildare’s
wife.

“I had my men scour the countryside around
the place. I even had them drag out a few of the farmers in the
area and question them about her. Naturally, no one knows anything
of her whereabouts. She was there last night, Sir Robert, but she
is gone this morning.”

Musgrave strode angrily to the window. He
should have followed his intuition and had the older woman brought
in yesterday, directly after the baronet had left with the other
one. All that slop Spencer had fed him about wanting to help the
poor still sat ill in his craw.

He’d had Rita arrested because she was the
widow of the miserable cur who’d been killed last month. He knew
how the Whiteboys worked—and he knew they took care of their women
and children. So he’d had his spies keeping an eye on the widow.
And just as he’d expected, the woman had shown up with money to
spend in the market.