Chapter Eight
Elizabet shimmied back through the window and dropped the pistol on the chair beside the tub before quickly stripping her clothing. Her bloodstained chemise would be difficult to explain if anyone cared to look closely enough. She looked around for a hiding place that wouldn’t be immediately noticed and finally shoved it into the simmering water of the cauldron. It needed to be laundered in any case. Of course, she’d never washed her own clothing before so she wasn’t entirely sure how to go about it. But she’d seen the palace laundresses with great vats of boiling clothes, so hopefully it wouldn’t appear odd to anyone who might see it.
A loud banging at the door sent a jolt of fear shooting through her, and she clapped her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming. Despite her bravado in front of Jack, his words had hit home. She had nothing to prove her identity. Nothing to keep her safe. For the first time in her life, she had nothing between her and possible danger but her small dagger. At least when Jack and his men had attacked her carriage, she’d had her parents and the drivers. Small help though they were, at least she hadn’t been alone.
Still, she was a lady in dire straits. Perhaps if she asked the soldiers for help…
The pounding shook the door, and she grabbed the quilt from the bed and the pistol from the chair near the tub.
“Elizabet! Open the door! It’s Jack! Quickly!”
She gasped again, her heart hammering in her chest. Only this time from relief. Whatever their differences, Jack meant safety. That he’d risked his own to ensure hers meant more than she could contemplate. She’d barely lifted the bar when the door flew open and Jack ran in looking like the hounds of hell were on his heels.
“Soldiers are coming,” he said, his chest heaving with the force of his breath. “They gave chase…”
“You shouldn’t be here!” she said. “They’ll find you. Why did you come back?” The terror that rushed through Elizabet nearly paralyzed her with its intensity. Most of it centered on the man before her and the danger that hunted him.
“You have to go,” she said.
He cupped her cheek, drawing her close. “I couldna leave ye here alone. If they came…” He swallowed hard and shook his head. “Not all of the king’s men are honorable. I couldna leave ye to their mercy.”
She covered his hand with her own. “Jack…”
“I promised ye my protection.”
“Even at the expense of your own safety?” She shook her head, trying to calm her racing heart. Damn stubborn, wonderful man. She didn’t mention the relief coursing through her at his presence. He didn’t need the encouragement. “You can’t always protect me, Jack.”
“That sounds like a challenge, lass.”
She sighed and shook her head. “Must you always joke?”
“Always,” he said, smiling. He kissed the top of her head, and she shivered against him.
His hands smoothed down over her back, and he seemed to notice her state of undress for the first time. His mouth quirked up into a smile, and he opened his mouth to say something but before he could, hoofbeats echoed through the small clearing where the cottage sat. Men’s voices shouted.
“They’re here,” Jack said.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
“Open in the name of the king!”
Elizabet looked around wildly, fighting the urge to hide under the quilts as she had as a child. Jack was the one with a price on his head. And hiding places were scant, save for under the bed or in the armoire. Two places so obvious they’d be immediately searched.
“Open up or we’ll break the door in!”
“Into the water,” Elizabet said, running to the armoire to throw open the doors. Then she hurried to the bed, twitching the blankets aside to clearly reveal the floor.
She turned to Jack who stood beside the tub, frowning in confusion.
“Get in the water,” she said again. “There’s nowhere else. I’ll get rid of them.”
Something large and heavy crashed against the door, and the wood splintered, but held.
“Do it!” She gave him a shove. “I’m coming!” she said in the direction of the door. “I’ll open. A moment, please, I beg you.”
She snatched his hat from his head and frantically searched for a place to hide it. Finally, she shoved it behind a pillow on the bed and hoped that she could keep the soldiers from entering the room too far. Jack jumped into the tub, took a deep breath, and ducked beneath the water. He’d be discovered if they got too close, but if they stayed near the door, he couldn’t be seen over the lip of the tub and, with the fire in the hearth as the only light in the room, the water would be dark enough to hide him. For a few minutes at least.
She hurried to the door, still clutching the gun in her hand as she tried to keep a grip on the quilt covering her. She threw aside the bar and hurried back, barely in time to miss getting crushed by the door being thrown open. The soldier who had been barreling his way inside stopped short when he saw her. Elizabet knew she didn’t look a threat. A lone woman huddling inside a quilt would be no match for a soldier.
He glared at her. “We’re looking for an outlaw, a highwayman. He was seen coming this way.”
“Well, as you can see, he’s not here,” she said, hoping Jack could hold his breath for a while longer. She needed to get the soldier out.
“Says you. I need to search to be sure he’s not hiding anywhere.”
He made a move to enter farther but Elizabet countered his movement, keeping her body blocking as much view of the tub as she could.
“There is nowhere to hide, sir, as you can plainly see. It is a small cottage. Naught to it but this,” she said, waving her arm. “The armoire is the only possible place and you can see from where you stand that he is not in there.”
The solider looked around, obviously wanting to argue but unable to.
“Under the bed…”
“Bend down. No one is here.”
The soldier did as she said, straightening with a frown.
“There,” she said, her heart thumping in her chest. She had to get him out, now, before Jack had to surface. Or drown. “You can see no one is here. Get out. Now.”
The soldier’s attention turned to her, and his look of anger turned to one of a much more dangerous nature as he noticed what Elizabet wore. Or rather, wasn’t wearing. He moved a little nearer.
She had no intention of letting him get even an inch closer to her. She brought the pistol out from beneath the quilt. “Get. Out. Now.”
The solider scoffed. “Oh, come now. You wouldn’t shoot me, would you? I want only to get to know you a little better, that’s all. A pretty little thing like you, all alone in the big, dark woods? No man here to protect you.”
He stepped closer, his eyes gleaming with evil thoughts. Elizabet didn’t wait to see what he intended to do. She dropped the quilt. The soldier stopped in his tracks, his attention riveted to her naked body. Then she raised the gun and shot the floorboards near his feet. The wood splintered, sending a shard up and into the man’s calf. He yelped and grabbed his leg, stumbling back out into the yard as Jack heaved out of the water, sucking in a lungful of air.
“Elizabet!”
“I’m okay,” she said, her hands shaking. She dropped to her knees to grab the quilt and quickly wrapped it around herself again. More shouts and footsteps.
“Back down,” she ordered.
The look of pure astonishment on his face would have been comical if their very lives didn’t hang in the balance. But they did, so he needed to obey. Now.
“Quickly!” she commanded.
Jack looked as though she were forcing him to chew molten steel, but he took another deep breath and dropped back below the water. And not a second too soon. A man who looked like he was the one in charge entered with two other soldiers. Elizabet backed up as far as she could without allowing them too far into the room.
The commander glared at her. “What’s happened here? Did you shoot a member of His Majesty’s army?” he demanded.
Elizabet swallowed her anger. She needed them to leave, quickly, and arguing wouldn’t make that happen. Men such as this liked their women weak and afraid. It wouldn’t be too difficult for her to let that show, since her shaky legs were seconds from collapsing beneath her.
“He attacked me,” she said. The quilt slipped a bit lower, exposing a shoulder. She clutched it tighter.
The commander’s eyes narrowed, and she let him see her trembling lip, her shaking hands. When he took a step closer she let a terrified gasp escape her lips and brandished her pistol.
He held out his hands. “Be careful with that! I’m not going to hurt you, you silly girl. We’ll trouble you no further tonight. But this can’t go unanswered for. You may have been provoked, but we can’t have people going about shooting at officers. What is your name?”
“Mary Smith,” she said, giving him the most common name she could think of with her wits rattled as they were by sheer panic.
He seemed about to speak again before the moaning man in the courtyard drew his attention. He sighed. “As you were obviously provoked, I will let the incident go. For now. I would suggest in the future calling for help before firing your weapon.”
Elizabet nodded and curtsied, and the commander motioned his men out. The second they were over the threshold, Elizabet rushed forward, slammed the door, and dropped the bar back in place. When she heard hoofbeats riding away from the clearing, she allowed herself to slump against the door with relief.
Jack rose from the water, dripping wet and desperate for air. She stayed put, dragging air into her own tortured lungs. She didn’t think she’d breathed the entire time the soldiers were there, terrified they’d discover Jack.
She probably should have run into their arms. Instead of fighting the urge to run into his. Instead of hiding the man who’d taken her. Who had a vendetta against her family he wouldn’t forget. She’d truly chosen sides this time. And looking at the towering, dripping wet, masked man before her, his clothing plastered to him, muscles tensed and ready for a fight—to protect her—she didn’t regret her decision for a second.
…
John stood in the tub and wrung himself out as best he could. His mind raced. He had, for all intents and purposes, kidnapped her. For good reason, yes. But at the end of the day, he was the man responsible for trying to ruin her father, who had gotten her shot and kidnapped. He’d been certain there was something between them, something he grew less capable of fighting. But until that moment, he wouldn’t have been surprised had she thrown open the doors and welcomed them in. Instead…
“You didn’t betray me,” he said.
“No,” she murmured.
“Why?” He stepped from the tub, peeled off his coat, and pulled his shirt over his head, dropping them in a soaking heap on the floor. The mask he left in place, though the wet leather chafed against his skin.
Her gaze dropped from his and followed the line of his naked chest. The water ran in rivulets down the hard planes of his stomach. He grabbed the cloth she was going to use to dry herself after her bath and rubbed it across his skin and hair. Her eyes followed each movement. She bit her lip, her breath growing shallow. He took his time drying off. The heat in her eyes as she watched sparked an answering desire in him.
She glanced up and caught him watching. He smiled and her cheeks flamed bright red and she hastily looked away.
“Why?” he asked again.
She straightened, jutting her pert little chin into the air. “Betraying you wouldn’t have helped me much.”
“They would have taken ye home.”
“You’ve said you’ll take me. I believe you, and I’m not in any particular hurry.”
Her words meant more to him than he expected. “Ye believe me?”
She clenched her jaw. “I won’t pretend to understand everything that is going on. But whatever claims of your evil deeds may exist, you’ve not harmed me. You’ve actually gone to great lengths to see to my comfort. As far as I know, you haven’t lied to me. Even when you must have known your words would cause me pain.”
He almost flinched from the accusation in her eyes. But he would stand by his plan. Fergus must fall. And so would Dawsey.
“You promised to protect me,” she said. “And you have. So yes. I believe you.”
Her beauty, standing there in the candlelight, stole the very air from his lungs. In his whole life, he didn’t know if anyone had had as much faith in him as she did. He came toward her, and she sucked in a breath when he reached out and brushed her hair from her face.
“Ye’re trembling,” he said. His fingers lingered on her cheek. He stood so close hardly a breath of space separated them. Heat rolled through him in waves, though he’d spent several minutes submerged in a cold bath. The creamy white of her exposed skin, where the blanket had slipped, flushed pink.
“I’m…” She looked up into his eyes. His thumb brushed across her lower lip, and she shivered. “I’m…cold.”
He glanced down and grasped the quilt, pulling it more tightly against her. “So am I,” he said, surprising a laugh from her.
“Come.” He took her hand and led her closer to the fire. She sat on the bed while he stoked the flames. “I need to change out of the rest of these wet clothes,” he said.
Her mouth dropped open, and she turned around on the bed. He laughed and bent to tug his sodden boots from his feet. He finished peeling off the rest of his wet clothing and reached into the armoire for dry clothes. Though he stood with his back to her, her gaze burned into him. The thought of her watching him while he dressed stirred his blood, inflaming a passion he’d have difficulty containing if he let himself lose control.
Still, he couldn’t resist playing a little. If she wanted to watch, he’d give her something worthwhile to see. Though he’d keep his back to her so she couldn’t see how much her sitting naked beneath that quilt, watching him dress, affected him.
He pulled on a dry shirt, letting the muscles of his back bunch and stretch as he lifted his arms to let the fabric slide over his body. He made sure the material fell slowly, past his back, over his waist, and finally over his buttocks. A quick intake of breath from the direction of the bed rewarded him for his ministrations. The thought of her sinking her nails into his backside while he moved over her hardened him to the point of pain, and he had the sudden urge to see exactly how she’d react to the knowledge of what she did to him.
He grabbed a pair of breeches, letting his shirt bunch up as he hiked them over his hips, and turned, letting her see him. All of him. She gasped and quickly resumed her perusal of the opposite wall. His chuckle had her cheeks burning so hotly her eyes must certainly be watering.
He sat beside her, the bed sinking beneath his weight. “If you’d like a closer look, I’d be happy to oblige.”
Elizabet’s breathing sped, causing her chest to rise and fall in rapid succession. He didn’t know what had made him offer. Even if she desired him as he did her, and by the heat in her eyes he knew she did, nothing good could come of it. He couldn’t keep her. And he wouldn’t take her maidenhead and send her back to her family, no longer a virgin and unwed. She would be ruined. He had no qualms about ruining her father. The man was corrupt, cruel, and most likely a traitor. But Elizabet was not her father. And John had no desire to harm her, in any way.
Before he could move away she bit her lip and raised her hand. His forehead creased in a frown, but he didn’t move away as she tentatively touched him, brushing her hand along his jaw. She ran her finger along his lower lip as he’d done to her. He sucked in a sharp breath, and the sound seemed to ignite something within her. She leaned toward him.
This needed to stop. Allowing it to continue would be sheer madness. He was a highwayman, an outlaw with a price on his head. A man, not her husband, whose face she’d never even seen.
And she didn’t seem to care.
Just one kiss.
Her lips hovered over his, close enough the heat from her skin ignited the desire simmering beneath the surface of his.
Madness, it may be. But he couldn’t resist any longer.
He ran his hand through her hair, lightly grasping the nape of her neck to close the distance between them.
His lips touched hers, and she sank in to him. He pulled her close, keeping her captive in his arms while his heart thundered furiously in his chest. Her lips were sweet, soft. She yielded to him, following his lead with an eagerness that made his head swim. This woman embodied every lovely, intoxicating dream he’d ever had. He never wanted to wake.
She moaned, a soft sound that had him threading his fingers through her hair and nipping at her lip. She opened for him, and he delved inside. His body burned for her touch. She pressed herself closer, wrapping her arms about his neck. She plunged her fingers into his hair and held tight, which only spurred him on. But when she touched the bottom of the mask, he grabbed her hand and pulled away from her, shaking his head.
“No,” he said, his voice gruff.
“Why?” she asked, her voice hardly more than a whisper. “Haven’t I proven that I can be trusted? That I’ll protect you? And your secret?”
The hurt in her voice cut him deep. But there was no help for it. “This is for yer protection, lass,” he said. “Ye canna be made to tell what ye dinna ken.”
Elizabet searched his eyes and finally nodded. “All right.” She sighed and dropped her hand. “As you wish.”
He reached up to cup her cheek. “What I wish is of no consequence. ’Tis how things must be.”
She nodded, swallowing as though a lump had formed in her throat. Her eyes looked suspiciously moist, and he regretted the pain he might be causing her. But it would save her greater pain later.
He sighed, bringing her closer so he could kiss her forehead.
“Come,” he said. “Lie down, mo maise.”
“What does that mean?” she asked, lying back as he’d asked.
He gave her a gentle smile. “My beauty.”
Her heart fluttered. “You find me beautiful?”
“Aye. So much it hurts me just to look at ye.”
“Jack,” she said, her voice faint.
“Get some rest, lass. It’s been a long night. And we’ll have to leave at sunrise.”
“What? Where are we going?”
He gently pushed her down on the bed and dragged the coverlets over her. “It’s far past the time I took ye back.”
“Jack…”
But he shook his head. “I’ve enjoyed our time together. Far more than I expected. But ye have to return. Ye dinna belong in my world.”
She flinched at that and he tried again, gently stroking her face. “The soldiers might return. Ye’ve shot one of them. Even if ye didna kill him, that isna something they can allow.”
“And if they return for me, that means my presence is now a danger to you.”
“Aye. I suppose. But more importantly, ye’re in danger. I would fight for ye, Elizabet, until my dying breath. But even I canna win against so many.”
He caressed her cheek and leaned down to gently kiss her. “Rest. I’ll watch over ye tonight.”
She looked like she’d protest. He understood completely. He’d rather spend their last moments together finishing what they’d started. But that couldn’t happen. Too much had happened already. He ached for her. Both in body and soul. But playing with the fire they’d stoked would only end badly for them both.
John moved off the bed and sat in the chair by the fire, turning the clothes drying there. He noticed her chemise swimming in the cauldron and fished it out, laying it out to dry with his clothing. Elizabet rolled to her side and watched him until her eyes began to close.
He remained awake for hours, watching her, committing every breath she took to memory. He didn’t want to sleep, but they were as secure as he could make them, and weariness dragged at him. However, instead of retreating to the pallet on the floor as he’d done each night he’d shared a room with her, he climbed into the bed and lay beside her. His arms wrapped around her from behind and pulled her close to his chest. For one night, he’d let himself hold her.
He pressed a soft kiss to her head, and she settled back against him with a contented sigh. He buried his face in her hair, inhaling the sweet fragrance of her. He would forever long for her touch. And crave the lips still pleasantly swollen from his kisses.
Perhaps someday. If things were different. Only he wouldn’t pull away when she touched his mask. He’d let her remove it.
And then he’d finish what they’d started.