Chapter Five
‡
Dominick was half afraid he’d hit his head. He could not be seeing what he was seeing. Miss Dashner had just appeared from nowhere and disarmed the highwayman who’d held a rifle to his coachman’s head. And now she strode along the road, rifle cradled in her arm and at the ready, as though she knew exactly what she was about.
Perhaps she did.
All was silent for two heartbeats, and then one of the highwaymen swung his pistol in her direction. Dominick felt his heart stutter as though a pistol ball had been driven into it.
“Put that down, chit, before I blow it out of your hands.” He cocked the hammer.
Dominick swore when she paused and then did as he asked, lowering the muzzle of the weapon.
“Now bring it here,” the highwayman called, while the others chuckled.
“You want it?” she asked. “Get it yourself.” She tossed the rifle aside, and then, so quickly he could barely follow her movements, she scampered up a tree and disappeared into the foliage.
“Where did she go?” the bandit called, while the man she’d disarmed dismounted and went for the rifle. A shot rang out, and everyone froze.
“Hands in the air!” John Coachman called out, raising the rifle he always kept tucked under his box. Immediately, the man who’d leaped off his horse closed his eyes, clearly regretting his rash behavior. He’d not only lost his rifle but he was without a quick means of escape. Assuming the rifleman also had a pistol, the odds were now even—two armed highwaymen against Dominick and the coachman. Dominick still held the leader, so he would make a poor target. But if anyone fired at the coachman, it would take time for Dominick to shove the leader away, aim, and fire. He didn’t have the advantage.
The leader must have been thinking along the same lines. “There’s no need for anyone to die today. Give us your money, and we’ll be on our way.”
“How about we keep our money and none of you have to die?” Dominick answered. One lesson he had learned from his father was to never admit defeat.
Dominick heard a hammer cock and glanced wildly about to try to determine if another highwayman had been in hiding and might be about to fire, but all he saw was a blue blur drop down from the trees. The highwayman nearest him tumbled off his horse, and John Coachman shot the one in the road, who was reaching in his coat, in the arm, causing him to fall to his knees. Dominick didn’t stop to think. He shoved the leader aside and ran to Miss Dashner. The highwayman she’d landed on had shoved her off, and she’d rolled away into an immobile heap. Panting, the bandit she’d taken down rose to his feet and stumbled toward his fallen pistol, but Dominick grabbed his shoulder, spun him around, and punched him hard in the jaw.
“Let’s get out of here!” the leader called and ran for his horse. The other followed suit. Only the man the coachman had shot still lay in the road.
Dominick knelt beside Miss Dashner, who hadn’t moved. He placed a hand on her arm. “Miss Dashner? Miss Dashner?”
Slowly, she turned her face toward him and opened her eyes. “Am I shot?” she whispered.
“I don’t think so. I think you hit your head when you tumbled off the horse with him.” She had a small red bump on her forehead.
“That explains why my scalp feels as though a dagger is lodged inside. Too bright out here.” She closed her eyes again.
The outriders ran to Dominick’s side. “One of you check on that bandit.” Dominick indicated the man who now lay in the road. The coachman hadn’t moved from his box, focused as he was on keeping the team calm and still. “And you, open the carriage door. I want to put Miss Dashner inside.” Dominick reached to lift her.
“I can carry her, Your Grace.”
“No.” He lifted her, noting she didn’t weigh much more than a child. She batted his hands away at first, then laid her head on his chest. He placed her in the carriage, and the maidservant, who’d been cowering on the floor, lifted her head.
“Your Grace! Are they gone?”
“Yes. You’re safe, but your mistress has been injured.”
“I’ll see to her.”
“Good.” Dominick wanted to move again as quickly as possible. There was no knowing when or if the highwaymen might return. The man the coachman had shot was bleeding from the arm. The outrider had tied a tourniquet about the injury. “Bind his hands and put him in the coach. We’ll take him to the mayor in the next town.”
The horses were checked, the bandit placed in the coach, and Dominick sat beside him. He wouldn’t leave the ladies alone with a highwayman. An hour later, they’d deposited the would-be thief with the mayor and Dominick had reserved rooms at an inn called The King’s Rest. It was much earlier to rest than Dominick had wanted, but they’d all had enough for the day.
After supper, which he’d eaten alone, as Miss Dashner hadn’t been well enough to come down, Dominick went to her room and tapped on the door. His brows rose when Miss Dashner opened the door herself. When she saw him, she opened the door wider and moved aside, an indication he was free to enter. “Come to chide me for climbing trees?”
Dominick peered into her small chamber. “Where is your maid?”
“I sent her to have supper with the other servants. I couldn’t stand her fussing anymore. Are you coming in, or shall we converse in the doorway?”
It would have been more proper to converse in the doorway, but she was in her night rail—at least, he thought that was what she wore under the large wrapper she tugged about herself. He didn’t want everyone to see her in her wrapper. Not that he should see her either, but now that he’d already seen her, a few more minutes seemed inconsequential. Not to mention, from what he could see, the night rail was a thick, voluminous white sack. Not much to see.
“I’ll come in.” He stepped inside, and she closed the door then indicated two chairs. A teapot sat on the small table between them.
“Would you like tea? I have sugar left.” She gave him a mischievous smile and sat.
He couldn’t help but smile back. “No, thank you.” He sat across from her. The red bump on her forehead had faded to a dull pink. “How is your head?”
“It feels like it did when one of my brothers whacked me when we were children, but I’ll survive. The tea helped.”
“Then would you care to explain to me what the devil you thought you were doing?”
She rolled her eyes. “I wondered when the lecture would come. You can’t even wait until I’m well again.”
“You’re well enough.”
She scowled. “No sympathy. You’re as bad as my brothers.”
“You might have had plenty of sympathy. You almost died.” He realized he was practically yelling and lowered his voice. What was the matter with him? He never raised his voice.
“That is a gross exaggeration. I bumped my head. Nothing more.”
His jaw dropped. “Miss Dashner, you snatched a loaded rifle from a man intent on using it, faced highwaymen with firearms, then jumped from a tree onto the back of another armed man. You should have stayed in the carriage.”
“Then we’d all be much poorer.”
Oh, he resented that implication. “I could have handled the highwaymen. My men and I have done it before.”
“I had the element of surprise on my side. Besides, you didn’t hire me to cower on the floor of the carriage.”
He rose. “I didn’t hire you to get yourself killed!”
“Because then you might never acquire the book.”
“No! Yes. I mean, you frightened the hell out of me today.”
She studied him as though she were a painter and he the subject. “Are you saying you care about me?”
“Of course I care about you.”
She set her tea cup down and raised her brows playfully. “Really? Your Grace, this is all so sudden.”
He realized what he’d said and had to qualify the statement. “I mean, I care about you as an employer cares for his employees. I don’t want any of my people injured.”
“I see. So if Alice had done what I did today, you would be lecturing her.”
“Alice would never do what you did today.”
She rose and stood before him. “I think that’s why you like me. I surprise you.”
He took a step back. “I don’t like you.” But he remembered how his heart had seized when he’d feared she’d been shot, and it hadn’t all been because he’d hired her to get him the manuscript. There had been genuine fear and a need to protect her.
“Not even a little?” She took a step closer to him.
“This conversation is inappropriate.” He moved back again.
“It is. If I told you that you impressed me today when you grabbed the leader of the highwaymen, would that also be inappropriate?”
“I—” He’d impressed her?
“It wouldn’t be suitable for me to mention how handsome you looked, how dangerous.”
“Miss Dashner.” But he didn’t know what to say. Heat radiated from his neck to his cheeks, and he feared he was actually blushing.
“Have I embarrassed you, Your Grace? Surely you know you are handsome.”
He fumbled for the door latch behind him. When had he turned into a bumbling schoolboy? “I should go so you can rest. We’ll leave at first light tomorrow.”
“I’ll be ready.”
He opened the door, then hesitated. “I owe you an apology.” He looked back. Her brows were high and her expression one of surprise. “Yesterday I insinuated you had no honor. I was wrong.” Dominick stepped out. “Good night.” Closing the door, he walked quickly to his own chamber. There, he closed the door, leaned against it, and took a deep, deep breath.
*
The man she’d teased and made blush the night before, the man who had apologized to her for insinuating—ridiculous, he was not so subtle—she had no honor had disappeared in the morning. He’d been replaced by a stern, demanding oaf who rattled off a litany of orders. As most of them didn’t have to do with her, Rosalyn climbed into the carriage, shut the curtains, and closed her eyes. She hadn’t slept well the night before. She blamed it on the dull ache in her head and the lumpy bed, but her overactive mind had been part of the problem as well. Why had the duke blushed? She’d been teasing when she asked if he liked her.
What if he did like her?
Did she like him?
Of course, she didn’t like him. But several hours later, when she couldn’t quite stop herself from opening the curtains to peer out at him, she had to admit she was at least attracted to him. And she hadn’t lied when she’d said he’d impressed her. He was more competent than she’d thought, and whether or not she’d placed too much emphasis on his lecture the night before, he did care enough to check on her.
That afternoon, the duke ordered they have a picnic lunch, as he didn’t want to take the time to stop at an inn and dine. He’d had The King’s Rest pack food for them to eat, and one of the footmen laid it on a blanket in a sunny field a little ways off the road.
“Join me, Miss Dashner,” the duke said. It wasn’t a question.
She sat, straightening her now stained blue dress. Alice had tried to clean it, but she’d been unsuccessful. They dined on cheese, apples, bread, and a very good wine, and there were more bundles to unwrap. Rosalyn wasn’t particularly hungry, though.
“How did you come to love books?” she asked.
The duke paused and looked up from the glass he was refilling with wine. “I always enjoyed reading. It filled the long hours in the country.”
She held out her glass for more wine. “I never read in the country, only when we came to Town. It seemed there was never enough time to climb all the trees or chase all the butterflies I wanted when I was in the countryside.”
“I was never one for climbing or chasing. The heir to a dukedom is expected to behave with decorum, even at a young age.”
That sounded awfully tedious. “But surely you had friends you might ride with or plan battles. My brothers would spend hours lining up their toy soldiers when we were young.”
“My brothers are quite a few years younger than I. My sisters are closer in age, but they were only interested in dolls.”
“And what of your friends?”
He sipped his wine. “I didn’t have many friends growing up. The other children seemed to think I was…”
“Dictatorial?” she offered.
“No.” He frowned.
“Overbearing?”
“No.”
“Arro—”
“Miss Dashner.” His voice held a sharp edge. “I was about to say they considered me too staid. I actually preferred reading.”
He looked so offended, she put her hand on his arm. “I was only teasing. My brother Michael is a great reader as well. I think there is no better pastime, as literature not only entertains but educates.”
Slowly, he pulled his arm away. “I do think you are the only person who has ever teased me, Miss Dashner.”
“That is a tragedy, Your Grace. You should be teased more. Anything that makes you smile is to be encouraged. You have a very attractive smile.”
His expression was one of absolute shock, and before she could laugh or he could say something to annoy her, she rose and strode back to the carriage. She had never met a man she could so easily surprise or whose reaction she enjoyed as much.
Several hours later, when they’d stopped at another inn and finished dining in the private parlor, the duke informed Rosalyn they would reach Cornwall and The Temples on the morrow. He had stubbornly resisted her attempts to make him smile all evening, even blushing at one point, but she couldn’t resist trying again.
“And when we arrive, do we charge the keep immediately, or do we attempt negotiation first?”
“This is not a game, Miss Dashner. I will call on the earl, and if I cannot persuade his staff to allow me to speak to him, then I will request your assistance.”
“And that’s when I’m to scale the wall of the fortress, breach its defenses, confront the earl, and persuade him to meet you in the drawing room.”
“More or less.”
“Why don’t I just find the library and steal the volume? It seems more efficient.”
They were seated across from each other at a small table near the hearth, and he leaned forward. “I don’t want to steal the volume.”
She leaned forward, so close they were almost nose-to-nose. “Then why did you hire a thief?”
“I like to be prepared for all eventualities.” He hadn’t moved back to put distance between them as she’d expected. And now she was the one who felt heat rising to her cheeks. “In any case, our time together is quickly coming to an end.”
She nodded. “Then I suppose if you want to kiss me, you should do it soon.” Rosalyn couldn’t have articulated why she’d said it. She hadn’t planned to say such a thing. She hadn’t even known she wanted him to kiss her, but as soon as the words were out, she both regretted them and hoped he would act on them. What would it be like to watch this carefully controlled man succumb to passion? And wouldn’t she like to be the one with whom he succumbed?
Ridiculous thought. Now she’d only made things awkward between them. She started to move back, but he lifted a hand and ran a finger along her cheek. The light, simple gesture made her freeze. Perhaps things were not quite so awkward as she’d feared.
“I have been wanting to kiss you since…”
“Since you first met me?”
“No.”
“Since you first saw me in a dress?”
“No.” Before she could speak again, he placed his finger over her lips. “Since I watched you stroll down the middle of a road, facing armed highwaymen.”
“Oh, that,” she mumbled, his finger still on her lips.
“I’ve never met a woman like you. I think I can hardly be blamed for wondering what it might be like to kiss such a woman.”
She wrapped a hand around his wrist and drew his finger down. “I think you should try it and see.”
“Here?”
“Yes.”
“Like this?”
“Yes. No choreography required.”
“But—”
She kissed him. All she had to do was lean forward and press her lips to his. Yes, the table between them was inconvenient. Yes, someone might enter at any moment and interrupt, but Rosalyn did not intend to lose her opportunity.
His mouth was warm and soft, and the act of placing her lips on his was quite nice. Initially, he seemed frozen in shock, but then he kissed her back, and that was quite nice as well. She didn’t have much experience kissing. She’d kissed a few boys here and there, but never a man. Never a duke. Now she’d have something to tell her grandchildren one day.
She drew back, smiling, but her grin faded when she saw the intensity of the duke’s look. “Did I do something wrong?” She rose. He rose as well and rounded the table. Now she was the one who took a step back. “Shouldn’t I have done that?”
“It was a bad idea.”
“Why?”
He stepped closer, and she stepped back again.
“Because now I want more.”
“More?”
“More.”
She stepped back again, but this time, he caught her arm and hauled her forward, against his chest. “Any farther back and you’ll step into the fire,” he explained.
She glanced over her shoulder and saw she’d almost backed into the hearth. “Thank you.”
“It was no trouble.” He was solid and warm against her, his strong arms enveloping her. “And since you are here.” He bent, and though she could see he intended to kiss her, she couldn’t quite believe it until his lips took hers. This kiss was not at all like the one they’d shared a moment ago. Then, she’d been teasing, testing him, really. But he was not teasing. His mouth took hers with a fierceness that surprised her and made her body catch fire all over. She half feared she had stepped into the hearth after all, because quite suddenly she felt so very, very warm.
His hand skated up her back and cupped the curve of her head, where her hair was pinned, then he deepened the kiss. She knew what he wanted, though she’d never done this herself. But she’d seen others do it. She opened her mouth to allow him entrance, and when his tongue licked inside, she gasped.
He pulled back, his blue eyes large and dark. “Should I stop?”
“Why would you stop?”
“I don’t want to scare you.”
“I assure you, Duke, the only thing I fear is that you won’t kiss me again.” The staid duke had hidden stores of passion.
With a smile that made her insides melt, he kissed her again. This time, she ventured into his mouth, her tongue tangling with his. It was his turn to catch his breath. He pulled back and looked down at her. “My name is Dominick.”
“Lovely.” She kissed him again, not caring what his name was, only wanting to feel his warm lips on hers again. His mouth slanted over hers, and she was not disappointed.
Until he pulled back again.
“May I call you by your Christian name?”
She rose on tiptoes to kiss him again, but he held her back, waiting for her answer.
“Yes, call me Rosalyn. And if you still feel like calling me Miss Dashner, I must be doing something wrong.”
His laugh turned to a groan when she took his head in her hands and kissed him deeply. Somehow, they had moved backward, and she felt the wall press against her back. She was relieved to have something to support her. Her legs felt wobbly, and her feet had lost all sensation. There was only the two of them and the way their mouths met, lips teasing and tasting.
And then the dratted man pulled away again. He braced a hand against the wall and, panting, looked down at her. “Rosalyn is a pretty name.”
Did he want to have a conversation? “Dominick is pretty too,” she said, then reached up again. But he took her shoulders in his hands and held her back. “This is not the time for a conversation, Dominick.”
He smiled, making her want to kiss him again. “I’d argue it’s exactly the time for a conversation. Otherwise, we may do something we’d both regret.”
She wasn’t so naïve she didn’t know what he meant, but she hadn’t considered the possibility that what had begun as an innocent kiss might turn into something much, much more. And if she enjoyed kissing him this much, then how much more might she enjoy what came after? But she was no wanton, and she neither wanted to be ruined by a duke nor bear his bastard. So she lowered her arms and took a fortifying breath. “You’re right. I should go to bed.”
“As should I. We have a long day tomorrow.”
“In that case, sleep well…” She wasn’t certain what to call him now that they were no longer touching. Your Grace? Duke? Dominick? “Sleep well.”
“You too, Rosalyn,” he said, as though he knew her dilemma.
She nodded and made her way on unsteady legs to the door. But she didn’t go immediately to her room. First, she stepped outside and pressed her hands to her cheeks and gulped the fresh air. But it would take more than a hay-scented breeze to take away the memory of his hands on her. And it would take sheer willpower to keep from kissing him the next time she saw him.