Undressed by the Earl (17 page)

Only she didn’t want to be married to a man who sincerely believed he was irresistible. She had to tread carefully and do whatever she could to ensure that she didn’t end up stranded.

“You put something in my lemonade, didn’t you?” she said.

“Just a sleeping draught.” He had the grace to look guilty at that. “I was afraid you’d say no when I asked you to come away with me.”

Before she could ask anything else, he continued, “I know I offended you that night in the garden. But I was so overcome by your beauty and charms, I acted without thinking.”

The way you did just now
, Amelia thought. The man hadn’t bothered to consider what she wanted—he’d acted only to serve his own needs.

She had to appeal to his pride and somehow make him understand that he’d made a terrible mistake.

“This isn’t the sort of wedding a woman wants,” she said. “We should stop for the night somewhere.”

Which would give her family the chance to find her.

“Your father would murder me for this,” Charles remarked. It was the first sensible thing he’d said.

“And that is why we should turn back now. If you can bring me home before he knows I’m gone—”

“It’s too late for that.” He appeared glum, and he added, “We’ll be married just after we cross the border into Scotland.”

Amelia decided it was time to be frank and hope that he would be reasonable. “As I said before, I don’t want to marry you anymore, Lord Lisford.”

“But you did once,” he said. “I was certain of it.”

Before I knew who you really were
, Amelia thought. “If you force me into marriage, you’ll get no dowry,” she said. “If you were trying to gain wealth, it will bring you nothing at all.” She asserted her final point. “If you bring me back now, I promise you, we can make amends.”

But the viscount had gone silent, his gaze fixed on the outside. He ignored her pleas, and Amelia realized that she would have to wait until they stopped.

She closed her eyes, praying that someone would rescue her. In her mind, she envisioned Lord Castledon riding hard, intercepting the coach. He would throw open the door to the carriage and pull her into his strong arms. Her fantasy played out, giving her a thread of hope to cling to.

“Would you like to sit beside me?” the viscount offered. “The night air is cold.” She wasn’t certain if it was his attempt to be courteous or whether he intended to accost her.

“If I move, I’ll likely be sick all over you,” Amelia responded. It was partly the truth, but she didn’t want Lord Lisford anywhere near her.

He grimaced, and she closed her eyes again. Though she was frightened, she had to keep her wits together and find a way out of this mess. Thankfully, the viscount had not laid a hand upon her—possibly because she’d struck him hard the last time he’d attempted to kiss her.

She believed this was about money, more than all else. It was the move of a desperately foolish man, not a villain. As she leaned against the side of the coach, she wondered if anyone was coming to save her.

If not, she would simply have to rescue herself.

Chapter Seven

D
avid hadn’t planned on driving in the middle of the night toward Scotland, of all places. After confirming with several sources that the viscount had been traveling north, he’d paid his driver a large sum to follow the main road. Margaret had promised that she and Cain Sinclair would take an alternate path, so that regardless of which way the viscount had gone, one of them would intercept Amelia.

He hoped to God that the viscount hadn’t hurt Amelia. After what had happened the last time when she had struck out at Lisford, David questioned whether the man had revenge in mind. The thought of her being a victim made him want to tear Lisford apart.

Amelia was an innocent. Impulsive, talkative, and generous to a fault, she didn’t deserve a fate like this—much less being forced into marriage to such a man.

Margaret’s suggestion, that
he
marry Amelia, weighed upon his mind. It was a solution, yes, but one he didn’t like.

She would brighten your days
, he could almost imagine Katherine saying.
Christine would grow to love her.

But he didn’t want a wife like Amelia, someone who would drag him out of his solitary existence. He liked being alone, damn it. He liked sleeping alone, without a woman to interfere with his habits. He wanted a wife who would fade into the background, someone who could make herself happy by mothering Christine. Amelia would never do such a thing. She would badger him mercilessly.

And worst of all, he could easily imagine himself sharing her bed. He could picture her gold hair spilling over bare shoulders, her body lithe and inviting. He strongly suspected Amelia would drive him over the edge, until he could hardly remember the sweetness of Katherine’s arms.

She’s no good for me
, he told his wife’s ghost.

She needs you
, his conscience reminded him.
Perhaps now more than ever.

The hours stretched onward, and he tormented himself with thoughts of Amelia weeping. Or worse, being violated.

The rage built up inside him until he longed to kill the viscount. He’d long ago believed that Lisford had straw for brains, but he’d never imagined the man would go this far. Idiocy didn’t begin to cover this foolhardy act.

His fists were clenched, and God above, he hoped they would reach Amelia in time. It didn’t seem possible that they could have gotten too far.

They stopped to change horses, and David went to sit with his driver. He felt certain that they were close now, and at any moment they would find Amelia and the viscount.

But what will you do when you find her?
his brain queried. He didn’t know. The right course of action would be to wed her himself. But Amelia had already made it clear that she didn’t consider him a good marital candidate for Margaret. Why, then, would Amelia agree to wed him herself, despite her ruined reputation?

Unless the ton believed that she had, in fact, run off with
him
and not the viscount.

Ahead, he spied the dim flare of a lantern in the darkness. There. It had to be them. His pulse quickened, and he ordered his driver, “Move alongside the coach.” He needed to see for himself if it was Lisford’s vehicle.

They would be nearly off the road, but there was a straight stretch where they could manage it. David waited until they were parallel to the other driver. “Pull to the side,” he called out to the man.

When the other driver responded by increasing the pace of the horses, David was certain it had to be Lisford’s vehicle. His driver, in turn, sped up until the coaches were both in danger of overturning. David hesitated, judging the speed. If he missed the other coach, he could break his neck in the fall. But then again, if Amelia was inside, she needed him to save her. There was no way to know if Lisford was threatening her, even now. He had no choice but to risk it.

Once the two vehicles were parallel again, he gripped the dashing frame and the seat. The only light gleamed from lanterns hanging on the side of each coach, while below him, the wheels jostled against the ruts in the road. It was madness to jump from a moving coach, for one misstep could mean being crushed beneath the vehicle.

David steeled himself and took a deep breath. Then he braced his hands against the seat and leaped across the space. His hands skidded across the seat irons, and he landed hard against the coachman. The driver lost his balance and barely kept from falling over. Before the man could react, David took command of the reins and forced the coach to stop. The vehicle lurched against the ground, but he brought the horses to a halt.

“Lisford has her, doesn’t he?” he demanded of the driver.

“I only did what I was paid to do,” the man protested, lifting his hands as if to surrender.

Then that was a yes. “Go now, and wait by my driver,” David commanded.

A moment later, the door opened, and he spied Lisford peering out. “Why have we stopped?”

Rage boiled through him at the sight of the man.
Because I’m going to beat you senseless.

David climbed down and seized the viscount by his cravat, knocking his head against the coach. “Did you think no one would come after her?”

The viscount’s face paled with fear. He reached up, struggling to free himself, but David wouldn’t release him. Panic laced his voice, and Lisford insisted, “She wanted to marry me!”

Like hell.
David followed up with a blow to the man’s jaw, and Lisford crumpled to the ground. The viscount didn’t even have the strength to give a decent fight, which was disappointing. He’d rather hoped the man would exchange blows, giving David a reason to break a rib or two. Instead, he stepped over the unconscious viscount and opened the coach door wider.

Inside, he saw the relieved face of Amelia. He half expected her to begin talking at a rapid pace, babbling her thanks or sobbing.

Instead, she moved toward him and sat down at the doorway to the coach, as if she didn’t trust her legs to move. Not a word did she speak. She was deathly pale, and he didn’t know what to say to her other than, “Are you all right?”

She gave a single nod but didn’t move. Without asking for permission, David lifted her up and carried her over to his own coach. She climbed inside, and after that, he gave instructions for the viscount’s driver to take Lisford to northern Scotland,
without his bride
.

It would take weeks for the viscount to return home, and in the meantime, David intended to take care of Amelia. “I’ll let you know when to start our journey back to London,” he told his driver. “She needs a moment to collect herself.”

He climbed back inside the coach and sat across from Amelia. The only sign of her ordeal was her shaking hands. For a long time, she remained silent, which was the strongest evidence of her fear.

“Do I need to go back and kill him?” he asked.

She shook her head. David waited endless moments for her to speak, but she never did. At last, he went outside and gave the order for the driver to begin their journey back to London. He would return her to her parents, and they would decide what to do after that.

Marry her
, the voice of his wife seemed to say. He ignored it, watching Amelia. It took every ounce of his patience not to ask questions, waiting for her to speak.

But after long minutes passed and they traveled in silence, he caught the gleam of tears on her cheeks.

David cursed, afraid of what that meant. “Look at me, Amelia,” he demanded, using her name for the first time.

She did, and the misery on her face only strengthened his anger toward the bastard who’d taken her.

“This wasn’t your fault.”

Her shoulders bowed, and she covered her face, still crying. He didn’t know whether to speak words of consolation or reassure her that it would be all right. Instead, he pulled out a handkerchief and offered it to her. She sniffed and took it, staring at the linen for a moment.

“You’re supposed to use it,” he reminded her. “Not stare at it.”

An odd expression came over her face, and she wiped her tears away. From across the coach, she appeared lovely, like an angel struggling to remain strong in the face of danger. It struck him in the gut with no warning at all.

He wanted her, even after all of this. Fate had given him the means to marry her, no matter that it was unfair or wrong.

“I used to call you this,” she said quietly. “When I was sixteen.” He didn’t understand what she meant, and she elaborated, “I told Margaret you had the personality of a handkerchief.”

He stiffened at the insult, not knowing what to make of that. “Did you?”

“Oh, don’t look so offended. Clearly, I was wrong in my opinion of you.” She let out a sigh and folded the handkerchief. “Beneath your shyness, you really
are
a hero.”

He was still taken aback by her earlier remark. “I think you should give me my handkerchief back. You don’t deserve it anymore, since you likened my personality to linen.”

She ventured a smile, and it was like a razor, shredding his good intentions. He wanted to pull her to sit beside him and hold her.

But she handed him back the handkerchief. “You’re much more than that, I promise you.”

David wasn’t so certain. “Tell me what happened with the viscount.”

Her smile faded. After she explained what Lisford had done to her lemonade, she admitted, “He thought he was making a grand, romantic gesture. And he believed that’s what I wanted.”

David wanted to ask her what she wanted now but wisely kept his mouth shut.

“Once, I thought I wanted adventure and a man who was devastatingly handsome,” she continued. “I wanted flowers every day and a man who adored me.”

David resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Men don’t make grand gestures unless they’re after a dowry, Miss Andrews.”

“You rode most of the night, trying to find me.” Her smile softened. “I’d say that’s a grand gesture. And I’m so grateful for it.”

He froze, recognizing the danger of an attraction he’d never wanted. A soft curl lay against her throat, and her green eyes held him captive. He wanted to kiss her, to take away the horrors of this night. And that was wrong on so many levels.

“You’re certain you’re all right?” he asked again.

“Now, I am.” She drew her hands together in her lap and said, “I was hoping you would come for me. I didn’t know if I would have to rescue myself.”

He didn’t ask how she would have done so but was relieved to hear that she didn’t seem to have been harmed during the journey.

“Could we…stop at an inn?” she pleaded. “I’m so tired, I can hardly stand it.”

No. He couldn’t risk an inn, not now. “Your family will be terribly worried. Once we arrive home, you can sleep for days if you wish.”

“What will happen when I get back?” she whispered. “I know what they’ll say about me. It won’t matter that I was taken against my will. They’ll believe I was ruined.”

“None of us will let your reputation be harmed,” was all he could tell her.

“They’ll think that I led him on, that I went with him to elope.” She bit her lower lip, and he saw the worry there. “And perhaps it was my fault, a little. A few months ago, before I knew the man he was, I
would
have eloped with the viscount.”

“But you came to your senses.” He motioned toward the cushioned seat of the coach. “Why don’t you lie down and sleep? It will be hours yet before we reach London.”

He didn’t want her conjuring ideas about what would happen next. Everyone would expect him to wed her, since he’d been the one to rescue her. Even Margaret believed it was the best solution. But he resisted the arrangement, sensing that Amelia would expect far more than he could give.

“I want to thank you,” she said to him. “You didn’t have to come for me.”

It had never crossed his mind to refuse. He liked Amelia too well to leave her at the hands of the idiot viscount. “You’re welcome.”

“And I’m sorry I called you a handkerchief, a while ago. It was rude of me, and I probably shouldn’t have told you about it.”

He wondered why she was trying to be so courteous, all of a sudden. But then she stretched out on the seat, tucking her hands beneath her face. When she closed her eyes, although the worry still lurked, she was undeniably beautiful.

If she were his wife, she would look like that, lying beside him. Her hair would tangle against her face, those lips turning soft.

“You’re staring at me,” she whispered, opening one eye. “Why is that?”

“Go to sleep.”

Instead, she propped up her elbow, resting her cheek against one hand. “I think I provoke you, without even meaning to. You seem to be angry right now.”

He wasn’t angry. It was desire taking command of his senses, pushing back the walls of grief and making him crave her. In this small space, he could smell the floral scent of this woman, and he wanted to close the distance, letting her rest her head against his lap.

He locked down those visions. Amelia deserved so much more than a man like him. She should have a husband who would adore her and children of her own.

“I’m not angry,” he said. “But I’ve been thinking about how to solve this problem. You shouldn’t be ruined because of one man’s impulsive mistake.”

“I will not marry him,” she insisted. “No matter what anyone else says I should do.”

“No. But if you remain unmarried, the gossip will worsen.”

Amelia sat up and regarded him, her face serious. It seemed that she’d suddenly understood what he was implying. “
You
could marry me,” she ventured. “No one would say a word against me or my family if the man who rescued me became my husband.”

Before he could say anything, she sighed. “But then, I don’t suppose I would make a very good mother to your daughter. I tend to break the rules more than I follow them.”

“Unfortunately, so does Christine.” The change in topic gave him the means to avoid a direct answer. “She has a governess, but Miss Grant cannot teach her how to properly behave in London society.”

“I do
know
the rules,” Amelia admitted. “Margaret drilled them into me, often enough.” She let out a heavy sigh, her green eyes staring at him. “I don’t know what we should do, either.”