CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
HENRY STARED AT THE peat fire. It had rained most of the previous day and night, keeping them trapped. As Barnabas pointed out, they were in their undergarments. If they went out in the cold rain and didn’t find help quickly, they risked catching pneumonia. Not an experience he wanted to repeat.
Instead they’d gone over every floor board looking for a loose one to pull up. Then they’d examined the walls for a chink. Barnabas had made his fingers bloody and bent most of her hairpins beyond fixing trying to loosen a hinge. The only way out was the window with a rose bush underneath. If the fall didn’t wrench an ankle or break a bone, the thorns would shred their clothes and skin.
Then they’d argued about whether she should stay behind and wait for him to get help. She wasn’t going to sit here and wait for Coleraine to come kill her. If Barnabas went out the window, she would, too. But the rain, wind, and cold continued all the day and night. So they waited.
With dawn the rain had lightened to a mist.
Barnabas didn’t say a word as he handed her a chunk of bread and sullenly chewed on his. He sat as far from her as he could on the mattress and refused to meet her eyes. Last night he’d told her to keep the blanket when she’d offered to share. He had probably grown tired of her.
He looked haggard, with circles under his eyes.
“Did you sleep?” she asked.
“No.”
Barnabas was clearly frustrated. Probably a little ashamed of allowing them to get in this predicament. Not that he would have been prepared to be chloroformed or for a solid door that resisted his efforts to break it. His pride was probably hurt. Men put a great store in pride.
She didn’t blame him. It wasn’t his fault they’d been imprisoned. He’d sensed something was wrong. He had asked about her gun, before they’d been accosted. If she’d been wearing her companion as she should have been, they wouldn’t be here now. Maybe.
She unwrapped the blanket from her shoulders and handed it to him. “You should try and take a nap. I’ll wake you when it stops raining.”
He tilted his head to the side and listened. “Is it still raining?”
She rose and went to window and opened the shutters. She stuck her arm out the window and the moisture beaded on her skin, almost as if the raindrops were forming on her rather than falling from the sky. “It is a very gentle rain. I think it is likely to clear by the afternoon.”
He rubbed his face.
He’d stayed as far away from her as was possible, which wasn’t all that far. He’d adhered to her no kissing, no touching, no seduction edict, and she almost wished he hadn’t. But maybe he didn’t want her anymore. After three solid days and nights in her company, he’d probably changed his mind or was breathing a sigh of relief that he’d escaped having to marry her.
Other men would have been lashing out in this situation. But he’d been protective and considerate. That wasn’t how men always behaved.
“Really, when it stops, I’ll wake you,” she told him. “Then we can throw the mattress down.”
That was the best protection they’d have from the thorns.
He grimaced, but then he knew her well enough to know she wouldn’t wait long before jumping out after him—if he couldn’t open the door from the outside. She’d finally agreed to give him time to try to break the lock before jumping.
“You won’t do anything stupid while I sleep, will you?”
“You have such a high opinion of me.” She closed the shutters. Even though he was tired she could feel the weight of his gaze on her and the less light the better. His looks were getting more intense as time wore on. More than once she’d seen stark hunger on his face in a way that both frightened her and sparked an answering hunger in her.
“Better than you know,” he muttered.
“I’m not going anywhere without you, if that is what you’re worried about.”
He squinted and looked pained, but gave a short nod.
“I’ll keep the fire burning.” Critical for her plan.
He lowered himself to the mattress and pulled the blanket over his shoulder. “All right then.”
Well, he might think her plan was stupid which was why she’d decided she’d rather tell him after the fact, rather than try to convince him.
*~*~*
Barnabas smelled wood burning. He wanted to roll over and go back to sleep, content with the idea that Henry was keeping the fire fed. The sound of the pump had been the lullaby that lured him into sleep. She had seemed to be taking a bath as near as he could tell, but he’d been trying to be accommodating. He allowed her privacy, tempted as he was to watch her, but then the lack of sleep had grabbed him and wouldn’t let go.
Wood. They didn’t have wood for the fire.
His heart jolting, he sat up.
The light was stronger and at a high angle. And he definitely smelled wood burning. Not coming from the peat fire in the fireplace.
He jerked to his feet and ran into the next room where Henry knelt on the floor nursing a small flame.
She’d lit the floor on fire. His chest felt as if she’d taken a sledge hammer to it.
“Are you trying to burn the place down?” exploded out of him.
The teapot was next to her knee, full of water. He grabbed it and doused the fire with a sizzle.
She huffed out a dejected sound. “I just got that going good. I was being careful. I wet down the rest of the floor. If I could just burn a hole big enough to get this board loose...”
He tried to breathe normally, but couldn’t. She could have burnt down the house around them. Did she not see all the potential pitfalls of her plan? “Henry,” he started.
“The worst that could have happened is we would have had to jump from the window into the rose bush anyway.” Her lips tightened, pulling her dimples deep. “So we wouldn’t be any worse off than before.”
She kicked her heel down hard.
The board didn’t so much as move. Her wince of pain made him feel better for half a second, until he started feeling bad for wishing pain on her.
“Inspector Harlow,” came a shout from outside. “Are you in there?”
Barnabas pivoted and yelled an answer. He started toward the door.
Henry clutched his arm and sidled against him. “Is that the earl?”
Her body against his was like she’d lit him on fire. He took a slow breath. “Sounds like it.”
“I’ll have you out in a second,” called Coleraine through the door. “I have your bags, and Tess—Mrs. Hall, my housekeeper, is with me.”
“I told you he had something to do with our abduction,” hissed Henry. Her eyes were wide and she was half hanging behind him and half peering around him to the main door in the fireplace room. “I’m not going with him.”
“Let me question him before we decide.”
“Right,” she said skeptically. “You’ll believe everything he says.”
“Not if he is lying.” He’d know in seconds if the earl had known about their abduction before it happened. Although the creature comforts they’d been provided seemed like Coleraine.
Henry snorted.
“Stay here,” said Barnabas.
He tried to guide her to the inside wall of the room, but she wouldn’t let go of his arm.
“Are you all right?” called Miss Hall.
“See, he brought you a chaperone,” Barnabas whispered. In a louder voice he called, “We’re fine, Miss Hall.”
“Do I get a say in that?” Henry demanded.
“You aren’t hurt,” Barnabas whispered at her. He tugged on his arm again.
Henry refused to let go.
“Do you want the earl to see you in your shift?” he asked.
“They drugged you first last time. I’m not going to just wait for them to come and get me.”
“Fine.” He strode to the door Henry hanging on tightly.
He didn’t mind that she wanted to hang on to him, really. What he minded was the sparks that flew through his system and left him hungry to pull her into his arms. Two nights of being with her in her thin shift and not being able to explore her generous curves or kiss her breath away was more than he could stand.
The lock clicked. The clink and scuffle of a bar being moved came through the wood. They both watched for the door to open, but it remained closed.
“I, um, am leaving your bags on the landing.” Coleraine said. “Mrs. Hall and I will wait outside while you dress, unless, uh, your companion needs her assistance.”
The earl sounded uncertain.
After a couple of seconds, Barnabas reached for the door.
Henry planted her feet and wouldn’t let him move forward. In an urgent whisper she said, “It could be a trap.”
“Do you really want to stay here longer?”
“No.” She glanced toward the shuttered window. “I want to be able to see him, before you open the door.”
He rolled his eyes, but called out, “Miss Brown would like you to stand in view of the window.”
He turned to open the shutters. Her breast pushed into his arm as she held him back. The sparks became a raging conflagration.
Rolling into her hold, he pulled her to him and bent to steal a kiss. A kiss he’d wanted since she’d first nestled against him. Her lips were soft and rounded in an “O” of surprise. He took full advantage, deepening the kiss and pulling her barely clad body tight against him. For a heavenly moment she responded, kissing him back with the fervor he wanted, needed.
She pushed him back and demanded, “What was that for?”
There were all kinds of answers to that question. He didn’t have to follow the rule now that they’d been rescued. He’d wanted to kiss her while she was nearly naked. He’d been thinking about little else for the past thirty-six hours, but he went with, “To get you to let go of me so I could open the door.”
*~*~*
Henry dressed in the room where she’d tried to burn a hole in the floor, while Barnabas dressed by the fire.
The char marks were an indication of how badly she wanted out of the house. But she didn’t want to spend one extra minute with Coleraine, whether his housekeeper—or mistress—was with him or not.
In the next room the rustle of clothing indicated Barnabas was dressing, too. She flushed, trying not to picture him in her mind’s eye.
“Do you need help?” he asked from the other room.
He was probably done dressing, while she had only managed to don petticoats and corset.
“No. I am quite capable of dressing myself, thank you.” She didn’t trust that he wouldn’t kiss her again, which was distracting. Too distracting for the situation, even if he didn’t see the danger.
The steel boning in her hoop petticoat was distorted from being shoved in her valise along with her wadded up brown traveling dress and jacket. She gave up on bending the bands into their correct shape. But that wasn’t the only problem with the contents of her valise.
Her pistol was missing.
When Barnabas had opened the unlocked and unbarred door of their prison to find their two bags resting on the landing side-by-side and no one else in sight, her fear had almost seemed misplaced. But why remove her gun?
“Are you about ready?” His voice was closer, as if he’d decided to approach the doorway.
She pulled a blue dress over her head and started on the steel buttons up the front. She would still need to put up her hair. “I undoubtedly have more layers to contend with than you do.”
“Regrettably,” he murmured. “I do prefer you in your shift.” There was an amused lilt to his voice.
Her fingers fumbled on buttons that didn’t want to go into their holes. “Stop it. There is nothing funny about this situation.” She grabbed her jacket and shoved her arms into it. “I’m the one in danger. Coleraine kills women, but not men so far as we know.”
“Well, he and Miss Hall are dutifully waiting in view of the window. They pulled the carriage around. I hope it doesn’t get stuck.”
Her heart was doing a mimicry of a jack-in-the-box. “Is it the same driver?”
“No. Much younger man.”
Well, that was a good thing she supposed.
“I’ll carry our bags down and wait for you outside.”
“Don’t go without me,” she cried. “I don’t want to go out there alone. Please, I just need to put on my shoes and do my hair.”
She forwent brushing and simply twisted it up and pinned. Her hat would cover the worst of it, or at least she told herself it would.
He moved to the doorway and took in her half-unbuttoned jacket and the spill of contents from her valise.
He went to a knee and picked up one of her brown and cream demi-boots. She bit back that a pair of blue shoes that matched this dress were in the bottom of the bag. She picked up her skirts and accepted his help as graciously as she could.
Once the first shoe was on, he ran a hand up the back of her stockinged calf.
Now he was going to be all seductive, when he’d barely touched her in the last twenty-four hours? “Don’t make me kick you.”
“I didn’t want you to think my restraint was because I didn’t want you.”
He may want to use her in that manner, but that was likely all he wanted. He’d made one mention of marriage and then never brought it up again. She couldn’t help it, but a shaft of pain went through her. Which was foolish, because she didn’t want to marry anyone. Clearly he just wanted her as a lover, not a wife. Or if he wanted to marry her, it would only be if she gave up reporting. But she might as well have ink for blood, because she couldn’t imagine giving it up. She’d fought too hard to get to where she was.
She shoved her foot in her other demi-boot as quickly as she could, then dropped her skirts on his hands.
Without hesitation he lifted up the material to finish using the button hook. “You’d think we hadn’t spent all that time in our undergarments together.”
“I didn’t ask you to help me with my shoes,” she protested. She was no Cinderella. Her fear was shifting into anger. “Nor did I ask to be robbed of my clothes and imprisoned with you.”
He scowled at her. Then he stuffed her clothes back in her valise.
She barely managed to snatch her hat away before it got crammed into the bag. He took it and grabbed his own bag while she gathered the crock and cups to put back into the basket.
“Leave it,” he growled.
“But,” she protested.
He was already going down the stairs, so she scurried behind him, unwilling to let him out of her sight.
The bottom floor was odd, strewn with old straw over a dirt floor with a wooden trough, half walls to stall like compartments, and an empty chicken roost. The stone wall had a wide opening more like a barn that the ground floor of a house.
Barnabas strode toward the waiting earl and the foolish woman who’d cast her lot with him. The earl was much as she remembered him—tall, dark-haired, with ghostly pale eyes. Miss Hall stood a foot from him, her golden brown hair catching the sunlight.
“Lord Coleraine, may I present Miss Brown,” Barnabas said curtly. “And this is Miss Hall.”
“Mrs. Hall,” corrected Coleraine. “She is my housekeeper now.”
How-do-you-dos seemed highly inappropriate. The earl had even managed to introduce Miss Hall in a way that claimed ownership instead of saying she was the housekeeper of whatever lofty name he called his house. Henry barely kept from rolling her eyes.
“Miss Brown, if I might speak with you a moment,” said the woman with her hand out as if they were going to step into a private parlor. She had the easy elegance of motion that Henry had never mastered, and it set her teeth on edge.
“No,” Henry said. It was rude, but she wouldn’t so easily be separated from Barnabas.
Miss Hall blinked.
“I came as soon as my brother told me what he’d done,” said Coleraine. His eyes lit on Henry and didn’t leave her. “I hope he made some arrangements for your comfort.”
“We had food, peat to burn, and a blanket,” said Barnabas.
At the same time that she said, “You would have us believe you knew nothing about it?”
Coleraine’s pale eyes looked guilty to her, and he made no further defense of himself.
Barnabas lifted his valise and wagged it up and down as if to stifle her. “The basket that was left for us is still inside.”
Miss Hall stepped into the awkwardness that followed. “I have ordered rooms prepared for you and asked the cook to prepare you supper trays. They should be ready—“
“I am not going to your house,” insisted Henry. “I won’t sleep under his roof.” Accepting his hospitality was tantamount to saying just murder me.
“It may be for the best tonight,” said Barnabas. The traitor.
“How could that be for the best?” she demanded.
He transferred her bag under his other arm and caught her elbow, pulling her back toward the house.
She dug in her heels, tears stinging her eyes. She determinedly blinked them away. She didn’t care if Coleraine and his mistress heard, “I’m not going to his house.”
“I would like to question his staff.” Barnabas sounded reasonable. “This is my only opportunity, so if you want to stay in town—”
She didn’t want to be anywhere she could be accosted again. Barnabas may trust Coleraine, but she didn’t. Not even in the town that bore the name of his title. “Staying in town isn’t safe, either. You need to arrest him and get on our way.”
“Henry, you’ll be fine.”
“You don’t know that!”
“We’ll leave tomorrow,” he pleaded.
She shook her head and crossed her arms. Their safety was more important than any information that could be gleaned from servants who were likely loyal to their master.
Barnabas rubbed his forehead as if he were developing a headache. “I will avail myself of the earl’s hospitality. You can come with us or we can find you an inn in town.”
“You have to stay in town, too,” she said. She wouldn’t be separated from him to be a sitting duck.
His nostrils flared. He gave a small shake of his head and stalked back toward the strange stable house. Tossing her bag through the door, he said, “Fine. You can stay here.”
Her legs teetered as she watched Barnabas stride towards the carriage where Coleraine and Miss Hall stood discreetly waiting. He was leaving her.
That was like an iron rod shoved through her chest.
She had no idea which way to walk to town—let alone she would be far too vulnerable. If Coleraine wanted her to disappear, she’d be an easy target for him. Barnabas was abandoning her.