The Stranger She Married (22 page)

Captain Hawthorne had come as Catherine's guest. His handsome face and dark eyes brought a smile to her lips as he greeted her with a polite bow and asked for a dance.

Alicia accepted. “I am happy to see a familiar face here, Captain Hawthorne,” Alicia said as they danced. “You've come a goodly distance."

"You're looking well, Lady Amesbury,” he replied.

She glanced at Catherine, who stood laughing in a circle of ardent admirers. “Are you and Miss Sinclair...?"

His dark eyes were shielded. “I'm not certain. I do not believe my lineage is impressive enough for her."

"Then she is blind. You are handsome, polite, and your father is a respected gentleman. Any girl should be grateful for your attentions."

He inclined his head in a bow. “You are very kind."

The dance ended and he thanked her for the honor. Cole appeared at her side, greeted Captain Hawthorne civilly, and took her hand again, sweeping her away.

A footman appeared with the message that Lady Edenburgh had fallen ill. The hostess had offered to let her remain for the night and had already put her to bed.

Alicia's bliss faded. “Oh, dear, nothing serious, I hope?"

The footman shook his head. “No. The doctor was not sent for, but she developed a dreadful headache."

Cole seemed to be amused by the whole thing.

"What?” Alicia demanded of him when the footman departed.

Cole shrugged. “It's possible her ‘headache’ is nothing more than a tryst with her lover."

"Cole Amesbury! What a thing to say."

He chuckled. “Her husband is sixty and an invalid. You can't expect a thirty-year old woman to live a life of celibacy, can you?"

She glared at him. “Are all men so depraved, or just you?"

He laughed. “Most are, I fear. However, I'd expect her to be a bit more discreet than to leave you to return home alone. Who knows? Maybe it is a mere headache.” He turned pensive. “Nicholas would have my head if he found out I'd let you travel all that way alone. You had better let me escort you home."

"What? And risk that kind of scandal?"

"You're a married lady now, Lady Amesbury. The scandal dwindles once you are no longer husband-hunting."

"Still,” she sputtered. “It would reflect poorly upon me. And him. He—"

"Would shoot me if harm came to you. He's as good a shot as I. And Aunt Livy likes him better. She'd never let me live in peace.” He grinned.

Alicia smiled reluctantly. “Very well. I admit, I'm not overly fond of traveling alone at night."

His grin widened. “Someday, you'll say you'd love to spend an hour in my company."

A gentleman approached for a dance, and the dancing and music swept her away.

All too soon, the magic ended. Alicia's joy did not, however. She climbed in to Cole's coach still smiling at her charming escort. They talked and laughed while the coach made its way down the road. The swinging lamps played with the shadows. He lounged across from her, his long legs stretched out and she marveled again at his handsome face and the breadth of his shoulders.

Dancing for hours began to catch up with Alicia and she had to fight her fatigue. She removed her slippers and rubbed her feet.

"Here, let me,” he said.

She only weakly protested as he massaged her sore feet. They looked tiny in comparison to his large, strong hands.

"Ohh,” she moaned, “that feels wonderful."

With controlled strength, he coaxed the soreness out.

"Mmmm,” she heard herself moan again.

"Stop that, you're making my imagination run wild."

"Hmmm?"

His eyes glittered darkly in the lamplight. “Never mind.” He rubbed her feet until she felt both renewed and drowsy before his hands stilled. “Better?"

She smiled at him, her eyes half opened. “I think I could dance for a few more hours now. You have magical hands."

He opened his mouth, but then closed it firmly without speaking. The carriage rolled its way over the rutted road and they fell into a comfortable silence.

He moved to her side. His hands cupped her cheeks, his thumbs caressing her skin as ever so slowly, his head lowered toward hers. Her heart pounded in anticipation as his nearness, his touch, filled her senses.

A tiny smile touched one corner of his mouth an instant before he brushed her lips with his. Once. Twice. Then he settled in for a kiss. She was lost in the sweet warmth that permeated her body, vibrating every nerve, stirring her to acute alertness. He tasted mildly of sweet wine and cinnamon. She breathed deeply of his masculine scent while his surprisingly soft lips gently tugged at hers.

The only other man who had tried to kiss her had been rough, brutal, and nothing like this. Only the slightest pressure of his large, strong hands on her face kept them anchored beyond the gentle contact of their lips. She knew she could escape at any time and he would not press her, but escape was not her wish. She wanted more.

He obliged her unspoken desire. His hands guided her head to a different angle, coaxing her lips to part. He deepened the kiss, his controlled passion coaxing her to follow, stirring her to greater heat.

She met him, hesitantly at first, but as desire stirred her blood, she let her hunger guide her in response. She felt the fabric of his superfine and his heart thudding under her hand. Instinctively, she slid one hand up his coat toward his head, speared his hair with her fingers and pulled his mouth more firmly upon hers. A strangled groan escaped him and he trembled with restraint. Sweet desire made her pulse gallop.

"My lord?” The coachman's voice broke through the darkness.

Cole closed the kiss and lifted his head. “What is it, Parker?” His voice sounded hoarse.

"Trouble."

He released her with a regretful, rueful smile, caressed her cheek, and then put his head out of the coach's window to converse with the driver, but the wind carried their voices away from her. Her senses spun with Cole's taste, his scent, his touch, the desires he stirred.

Cole pulled his head back inside, his expression grim. He drew in a breath, held it a moment, and then released it slowly.

"Forgive me, my lady, but I must ask you to move to this seat.” He indicated the bench across from her.

After she complied, he knelt and lifted the cushion of the seat they had recently vacated to reveal a compartment filled with handguns. Cole deftly loaded them all and laid them out on the seat next to her in a neat row, all the handles facing the same direction.

Seeing guns in his hands left her cold. “What is it?"

"Highwaymen. Take off the pearls and give them to me."

At his commanding tone, she obeyed without question. After placing her jewels in a small cache hidden in one corner of the compartment, he blew out the lanterns and parted the curtains over the windows. Alicia craned her neck around his head to see riders approach from both the front and the rear of the carriage.

A voice called out, “Stop the coach and cooperate and no one will get hurt."

The coach stilled and the riders surrounded them. Alicia's heart pounded. Her breath sounded loud in the stillness.

Cole placed a hand over hers. “Courage,” he whispered.

As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she watched Cole soundlessly heft a gun in each hand and held them poised, his hands steady, his expression impassive. She could easily imagine him as a soldier; deadly, ruthlessly calm in the face of danger.

"We aren't carrying any money,” Cole called out.

"Send out the lady."

They exchanged wide-eyed glances and then Cole frowned, clearly wondering why they would make such a demand. “Lie down,” he mouthed.

Alicia sank to the floor and flattened herself.

"If it's ransom you wish, take me!” Cole shouted.

"We want the girl."

Alicia peered out from a crack between the door and the frame. In the bright moonlight, she could see that all of the highwaymen had guns pointed at the coach. One of the highwaymen, she presumed the one who had spoken, eased his mount closer.

"Send her out now, unless you wish for bloodshed!” the leader called.

She glanced up at Cole who had his guns trained carefully upon the highwaymen. An explosion erupted from beside her. With a gasp, she covered her ears and realized Cole had fired one of his guns. The leader let out a grunt and folded in his seat, but before he dropped from his saddle, Cole fired again, and another rider fell. Both lay motionless in crumpled heaps on the ground. With howls of fury, the highwaymen all opened fire.

The coach began moving again, and judging from the swaying, the horses were at a full run.

Alicia watched a hole appear in the doorframe, and then the wall behind her splintered. She flattened herself to the floor, her heart hammering against the floorboards. Cole dropped his discharged guns and picked up others, firing without pause as incoming balls tore their way through the walls of the coach and the seats. The acrid smell of gunpowder filled the air.

Cole dropped his guns next to Alicia in the small pile of firearms scattered on the floor and picked two more, watching out the narrow back window. He continued firing outside as the highwaymen pursued, their shots growing wider as they fell behind.

He looked down at her. In the semi-darkness, she could not see his expression, only the direction of his gaze. “Are you all right?"

She nodded mutely.

"Alicia?” A trace of panic colored his voice and she realized that he could not see her clearly enough to have seen her nod.

"Yes."

"A ball didn't strike you?"

"No."

Another gunshot from outside shredded the back curtain. Cole grunted and fired back both guns. He dropped them and picked up his last two, his eyes sweeping the road behind them. They rode in silence for several moments while Cole kept watch. Finally satisfied, he set down the guns and helped Alicia to her seat. He scooped her into his arms, crushing her against his hard, strong body, and let out a ragged breath. She felt him tremble as his iron control slipped.

As the danger passed, the reality of their peril caught up to Alicia and she shuddered, tears gathering. They might have been killed. If not for Cole's skills as a gunman, they surely would have been. Or she would now be in the hands of criminals.

Cole held her tightly, arms strong and soothing, all signs of the merciless gunman gone. He murmured words of comfort while she wept. She lay against him, wishing things could have been different between them. How right it felt to be encircled by his arms!

By the time they arrived in front of her husband's home, she had pulled herself together and dried her tears.

"You took a terrible risk, Cole."

"I'd die before I'd deliver you to unscrupulous men.” His voice sounded tight, angry.

Predawn gray spread across the eastern sky and mist swirled above the ground. He helped her out, holding her hand for a moment longer than necessary. His eyes searched hers with an intensity that set her heart racing. Then his expression softened, and he brushed a kiss against her temple before turning away.

He looked up at the coachman. “Parker? Are you all right?"

The coachman sat hunched over. Cole swung up onto the seat and carefully eased the driver's body back, causing him to unbend. The man sucked in his breath as Cole probed his side and then swore softly.

"Come inside, Parker, we need to have that attended."

"Jest a scratch, milord."

Cole helped the man climb down while Alicia stood by feeling useless. As they mounted the front steps, she offered her arm to the coachman who obliged her, but leaned more heavily on Cole.

"I'm sorry,” she said to them both.

The coachman managed a weak smile, revealing a gap in his teeth. “We wouldn't let the likes o’ them ‘ave ye, milady."

Servants swarmed around them as Cole explained. Mrs. Hodges waded in, shooing the rest away. “Come on then, let's have a look at you. Potter, send for the doctor.” She led him away, leaving Cole and Alicia in the foyer.

In the dim lighting, Alicia saw a dark stain spreading on Cole's arm below a tiny hole in his sleeve. “You're hurt,” she gasped in alarm.

"It's not bad."

"Mrs. Hodges!"

Alicia's frantic cry brought the woman running. “The driver will be all right. I've sent for the doctor—” she began and then stopped short. “You, too, my lord?"

"It's nothing."

"You men!” Mrs. Hodges sighed in exasperation. “Come into the kitchen where the light is better and let me have a look at you."

"I'm only grazed,” Cole protested.

Her eyes flicked to Cole's. “My lord would have my head if he thought I hadn't seen to you properly."

Cole's mouth lifted in a crooked smile. “Very well."

They lit every lamp in the kitchen before Mrs. Hodges peeled off his cravat, frockcoat, and waistcoat. With his shirt unbuttoned, he pulled the neckline aside just enough to expose his wounded shoulder. Alicia set her teeth, unable to keep her eyes off the rounded, solid muscles of his chest and shoulder. His body had been beautifully sculpted. Even wounded, he was large, powerful, and oh, so wholly male.

The bullet had cut a path through the flesh of his upper arm below the shoulder. The wound still bled freely.

"It's not bad, my lady,” Mrs. Hodges assured Alicia.

Alicia hoped she would never see a wound that the intrepid housekeeper would consider serious. This one made her shiver. While Alicia helped Mrs. Hodges clean the wound, Cole's eyes remained shielded.

The desire to offer him comfort beset her. “Does it hurt very badly?"

He shook his head but his teeth remained clenched.

Mrs. Hodges scoffed. “Asking a man if it hurts will never bring the truth. They think they have to be so manly. But really, they're just big children. I'm going to need fresh bandages. I'll be back momentarily.” She swept out of the room.

Cole stirred. “I'm sure it must give you some sense of justice seeing me this way."

She stared at him, completely caught off-guard by his comment. “No. Of course not. How can you say that?"

The shields dropped, baring his self-recrimination. “Poetic justice, I suppose, since this is what I did to your twin."