Eleven

Emma could not believe she had woken up in bed next to a stranger. A practically naked stranger. The blush heating her cheeks showed signs of permanence. She would not be surprised if it lingered for days. She had shared a bed with a man whose full name she did not even know!

When Dare had become agitated in his sleep, demanding that she lie down, she had planned to pretend to give in until he fell back asleep and then return to the uncomfortable chair. She feared he would rip out his stitches and cause himself more harm, so it seemed best to humor him.

She had underestimated how exhausted she was. Wrapped in the thick covers, she had sunk into the mattress, soothing her aching muscles. She had closed her eyes just for a moment, and the next thing she knew, it was morning.

And she was still in the bed.

Next to a half-naked man.

A gorgeous, muscular man.

A man about whom she knew practically nothing, not to mention she still had no idea who had attacked her on the road or why.

“I believe you said your name was Dare?” she asked, sitting primly in the chair, her hands folded on her lap…as if a demure posture could erase the fact that they had slept in the same bed.

“Robert Ashton, Earl of Darington,” he responded without fanfare.

Emma caught her breath and stared at the strange man. Did he say…earl?

Her heart pounded and emotions fluttered through her at this startling revelation. She had read the name in the society papers. He was the one they called the Pirate Earl. She thought for a moment of doubting his declaration but could not do it. His clothes, his manner, his actions all betrayed the truth. He must be the Earl of Darington.

“I beg your pardon, my lord.” She could not believe she had behaved in such a familiar manner with a member of the nobility. A dangerous member of the nobility.

“Call me Dare. What friends I have call me by that name. You have earned the doubtful privilege more than most.”

“Dare, then.” She gave him a hesitant smile. Given how he had defended her, she should not have been surprised to learn he was a man of action.

“Miss St. James.” He did not smile in return, but his eyes grew softer.

“If I am to call you Dare, then you must call me Emma.”

Dare gave a slight bow of his head. “I would say ‘at your service,’ but it seems you are at mine.”

“No, indeed, I cannot imagine what would have happened to us if you had not helped,” exclaimed Emma. “If you had not bravely stood to defend me, goodness only knows what would have been my fate. And you being shot too! What an adventure we are having!”

Real-life adventures were much more uncomfortable and messy than reading about them in books, but Emma was no less enthralled. Now that they had survived to morning, the events of the previous night were taking on epic proportions.

The crease between his eyebrows deepened. He did not appear to have the same enthusiastic view of adventures. Of course, he had been shot, so his perspective was not quite as bright. “Only did what had to be done. Any gentleman worth his salt would have done the same.”

“I have not a wide knowledge of gentlemen with which to judge,” replied Emma, thinking of her stepbrother. “But I can say for a certainty that many men would not have acted as you did. It is pointless to try to convince me otherwise. You are a hero to me, and you always will be, my lord.”

“Dare.”

“Dare.” She smiled. Her hope for one in return was in vain. Perhaps he was not the smiling type.

She paused, hoping he would say more, but they lapsed into silence. “I confess, that I have been greatly interested in the circumstances that led to you being shot. I hate to press, but if you are up to it, I should like to hear the story.” One could only be polite so long.

Dare paused and seemed to consider his options. “I hate to involve you.”

“I believe I am already involved.”

“Not sure where to start,” he began. “My sister and I had attended a wedding for the Earl of Wynbrook’s sister. We were all riding back to London and stopped at a posting house. Kate, my sister, went outside. I followed just in time to hear her scream and see her being pulled into a coach.”

“Your sister was abducted on a public road?” gasped Emma. “What did you do?”

“Grabbed a horse from the stable. Chased the coach. I managed to get her free but got shot in the process.”

“I cannot believe such a brazen attack! Who attacked you?”

“Not sure. But I expect we were targeted.”

“You were targeted?” she asked, hoping he would explain, but he frowned as if remembering something.

“Did you say you thought the men were after you?” Dare asked.

Emma sat back in the chair, not sure how to respond. “I…I thought perhaps.”

His eyes narrowed. “Why?” His voice was so low it came out as a growl.

Emma took a breath, trying to determine how much to reveal. “Well, you might as well know. I have run away from home.”

The eyebrows rose in surprise. “Why?” He caught himself and shook his head. “Not used to female company. Don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“No, I understand. I have been curious about you too. My problems come from inheriting my father’s estate. I come into my majority…well, actually, today!” She realized it was her birthday.

“Many returns of the day.”

“Thank you. My stepbrother, Mr. Eustace Ludlow, was not pleased with me inheriting. He made things…uncomfortable, so I decided to accept an offer of marriage and have an adventure.”

Dare’s frown returned. “I see.”

She was not exactly sure what he saw, but he clearly wasn’t pleased with the view.

Dare cleared his throat. “Miss St. James, I am greatly indebted to you. Without your help, I would be dead in the hedgerows. But you need to leave. Now. Get somewhere safe.”

Emma shook her head. “I cannot abandon you while you are still injured.”

“It would be different if we…” He paused and pressed his lips together, giving his angular face a severe expression. “You are engaged to another man. I have no right to trespass on your time and your good name. You need to leave.”

Emma swallowed hard. She acknowledged the sense of his words, but still, it was difficult not to feel rejected. “I would not feel right leaving you in such a condition. Besides, we have taken this room as husband and wife. It would look rather strange should I abandon you now.”

“But in truth, we are not married, and your reputation will be irrevocably damaged by remaining here.”

“Fortunately, my betrothed is an ocean away,” she said lightly.

“In addition, we do not know who those men are, why they attacked, or if they are still looking for us. You need to run as far and as fast from here as you can.” His voice was firm, and it was clear he was a man accustomed to giving orders. She, however, was not easily cowed.

Once she had grown into womanhood, and her body had developed a decidedly rounded and unabashedly plump figure, most men addressed themselves to her bosom and never gave her another thought. Apparently, according to conventional wisdom, a lady with a generous bosom must not have a logical thought in her head. People seemed to believe one could only grow brains or breasts. Not both.

“I will do as my conscience dictates,” she said calmly, folding her hands in her lap.

He glared at her. She continued to regard him with placid determination. If Eustace, with all his threats and unpleasantness could not force her to obey his demands, surely an injured man could have no hope in securing her compliance.

“You need to leave.” He also was a man of determination.

“Even if I were inclined to leave, I have no way to do so at this point. My coach is quite damaged and… Oh, the coach.”

“What about it?”

“Well, I had to leave a little earlier than I planned and so I took my own coach. It is still lying there in the road. Even if those men were not sent by my brother-in-law, he will certainly come looking for me.” The overturned coach would be a beacon telling him she was in the area.

“The mail coach comes by in the evening. You will be on it,” said Dare firmly.

They shared equal looks of resolve, in a silent battle of wills. Finally, she acknowledged his plan with a slight incline of her head. “As long as you are recovering and can manage without me.”

“I hope your future husband is of an understanding sort,” he muttered.

“I hope so too.” She sighed when she said it, and a spark of suspicion ignited on Dare’s face.

“May I ask the name of the fortunate man who has won your heart?”

Emma smiled to cover her discomfort. Her intended may have a marriage contract on his side, but certainly not her heart. “He is the son of Captain Redgrave, an American.”

“I am familiar with the name. Fearsome opponent. Good privateer. I have not met him in battle. Which son are you to wed?”

Emma looked away and busied herself with smoothing her skirts. “I am not rightly sure.” She coughed a little in a futile attempt to hide her discomfort.

“You are not sure?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, it is a long and boring story. I think you need some rest.”

“I think you need to tell me the story.”

Emma again struggled with how much to reveal. In truth, she longed to share her situation with someone. Someone who might be sympathetic. Someone like Dare. And yet as she turned her predicament around in her mind, the story sounded rather sordid. She wanted to reveal herself but maybe soften the edges a bit, for she could not bear to be pitied.

“It is an arranged match,” she began hesitantly. “The Earl of Langley’s daughter married the American, Captain Redgrave, apparently against her father’s will. The earl is now concerned that his grown grandsons find English brides. I am being sent as a bride for one of them.”

Dare’s frown etched deeper onto his forehead. “You are being sent to wed some man you have never even met? And you don’t even know which brother you are to wed?”

“I have always wanted to travel.” Her smile was beginning to hurt her face. “I am very excited to see the New World. I feel I am a great explorer.”

Dare’s face told her he did not like her arrangement. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again, deciding instead to glare at her in an accusing manner.

“And your guardian has agreed to this?”

Her smile vanished. “My stepmother and stepbrother have served as my trustees. My father passed away when I was sixteen.”

“I am sorry for your loss.” He was silent for a moment. “Both my parents have passed also.”

“I am sorry for your loss as well,” said Emma.

“It is hard to lose a parent.”

“Yes.” Emma’s first instinct was to brighten the maudlin conversation. She never wished to burden anyone with how much her heart grieved the loss of her father, so she typically kept the conversation light. In the immediate aftermath of her father’s death, Eustace had taken great offense at her grief, calling her tears childish and manipulative. Emma had learned to smother her feelings behind a calm facade. Yet one look at Dare’s somber eyes told her that he would prefer honesty over superficial pleasantries.

“When my father died, it was quite a blow to me.” Emma glanced away from the intense, black eyes of the Earl of Darington.

“Where were you when he passed?”

Emma looked up. It was a question she had never been asked before. It took her back to that moment in time.

“I was beside him. He had been injured, shot by accident by one of the village lads hired to help with the annual hunt. A shotgun had accidentally discharged, and he had been struck. I tended his wounds, following his instructions. It seemed as though he would recover, but then the wound turned hot and festered. I did everything I could to save him, but he grew weaker and weaker every day, until finally…”

She could not stop the memories from flooding back. The night before he passed, he told her he was dying and not to blame herself. She had begged him not to leave her. She stayed by his side, trying anything to help. By the morning, his breathing was ragged and labored. She knew it was close to the end. She held his hand and told him she was sorry. When he breathed his last, she had cried until her breath came in silent gasps.

Regina had blamed her for his death, saying Emma should have let them bleed her father, and that if they had called a proper doctor, his death could have been prevented. Her stepmother’s words still haunted her. “I miss him greatly,” Emma whispered.

“Forgive me the lack of a handkerchief.”

Emma started and looked up at Dare, confused by the comment. Why would she need a handkerchief? She blinked and tears fell down her cheeks. She quickly found her own and attempted to remedy the situation. “Please do forgive me.” She feared his recrimination.

“It is a natural thing to mourn one’s parent.” The only thing she saw in his eyes was compassion.

“Yes, yes it is.” She was enormously relieved by his acceptance. Dare did not attempt to fix her tears and make her stop, nor did he seem inclined to run away. Of course, he had little option to flee. “How old were you when your parents passed?”

“My mother died bringing my sister and me into the world. My father died when we were twelve. I was at school and not able to be present at his passing.”

“I am sorry for your loss. My mother also died in childbirth when I was young, attempting to bring a son into the world. Unfortunately, neither survived.”

They were quiet for a moment.

“I think, perhaps, losing a mother early, it is not good for a child. I felt I missed something,” confessed Emma.

“Yes. If my mother had lived, life would have been very different.”

“Yes. Very different,” agreed Emma. No stepmother. No stepbrother. Mothers were the protectors of children; they stood in the gap to shield their offspring from pain. Without them, children were vulnerable.

It was odd that in the sparse room with a complete stranger, Emma felt she could talk about things she could never share with her family. The Earl of Darington was different. Though she was supposed to be taking care of him, it was he who was providing comfort to her.