Читать книгу Regency High Society Vol 3: Beloved Virago / Lord Trenchard's Choice / The Unruly Chaperon / Colonel Ancroft's Love - Elizabeth Rolls, Anne Ashley - Страница 11

Although uncertain quite what had disturbed him, Daniel was suddenly wide awake and very conscious of something soft lying against him, and something softer still tickling his chin. Even in the dim light of early morning he could clearly see long tendrils of hair stretching across his chest and instinctively raised one hand to twist several of the gently curling strands round one finger; then just as quickly he released them and carefully edged himself away, before his suddenly aroused body tempted him to take further liberties, which at this early stage in their relationship would, he felt sure, be met with fierce resistance. The last thing he desired was for his soundly sleeping companion’s understandable wariness to deepen into fear. No, it was her complete trust he must win, then maybe …

Refusing to allow his thoughts to dwell on what hopefully would be the very satisfactory outcome to a closer relationship developing between them, Daniel carefully raised himself on one elbow in order to study the perfect arrangement of delicate features now framed in a tussled mass of fiery curls: the small straight nose, the infinitely kissable and perfectly moulded lips above a determined little chin, which tended to lift so stubbornly on occasions. Undeniably she was a most desirable young woman, beautifully packaged and utterly feminine. Which made her single state rather puzzling, though he strongly suspected that this was entirely through choice.

He detected the slight movement of ridiculously long, curling lashes, and a moment later those striking turquoise orbs were gazing up at him rather wonderingly, before a suspicious frown drew finely arched, dark brows together.

‘What on earth do you imagine you are doing hovering over me like some ravenous bird of prey, about to swoop, Major Ross?’ she demanded to know.

‘Spot on form again, I see.’ Shaking his head in disbelief, Daniel rose to his feet. ‘How is it possible, I ask myself, for someone to appear so beautifully angelic in sleep and yet possess the tongue of an adder?’

Katherine satisfied herself with flashing him an angry look, which only succeeded in igniting a rumble of masculine laughter. With narrowed eyes, she watched him walk over to the window and remove the piece of sacking. Tongue like an adder, indeed! She inwardly fumed. He had a crass nerve to criticise her when he wasn’t above uttering some barbed remark himself! she decided, scrambling to her feet and giving her cloak a vigorous shake.

‘You haven’t time to concern yourself over your dishevelled state,’ Daniel told her bluntly, turning in time to see her attempting to make use of the few pins that remained in her hair. ‘We cannot risk being found here by the blacksmith when he arrives. Which, if I know anything, will be quite soon. It’s already daybreak.’

Although she prided herself on her appearance, and never set forth unless perfectly groomed, Katherine appreciated that attempting to make herself presentable was hardly important in the circumstances, and merely thrust her reticule into her cloak pocket before swirling the fur-lined garment about her shoulders once more.

‘As you appear to have a way with horses, sweet Kate, perhaps you’d be good enough to collect our trusted steed from the stall so that I can hitch him up to the gig?’ Daniel requested, and received his second dagger-look of the morning.

‘Willingly, Major Ross … and don’t call me Kate!’

Grinning wickedly, he occupied himself, while Katherine went to do his bidding, by plumping up the pile of hay to hide all evidence of two people having used it as a bed. With his back towards it, he didn’t notice the large wooden door open a fraction. Katherine too was oblivious to the fact that an unkempt rascal was stealthily entering, or that three equally villainous rogues were at their compatriot’s heels. The first indication she had that they were no longer alone was when a shot rang out, by which time it was already too late to scream out a warning.

Katherine saw Daniel extract the pistol from his pocket and with unerring accuracy dispose of one of the intruders, before the other three, on him in a trice, knocked him to the ground, raining a barrage of kicks and blows down on him. Hidden by the gelding, Katherine looked wildly about for some weapon, and her frantic gaze swiftly fell upon a solid piece of wood. Without the least concern for her own safety, she joined in the fray, felling one of the attackers with a single blow to the head before anyone knew she was there.

‘You damnable coward!’ she screamed, delivering such a powerful blow to yet another assailant that he dropped the weapon he had been wielding, and made for the door with all possible speed, screaming in agony as he clutched his right arm.

Showing no mercy, Katherine scooped up the unwieldy firearm and gave chase like some avenging virago out for blood; while Daniel, having by this time managed to rise to his feet, easily disposed of the last attacker with a well-aimed blow to the jaw. He then turned in time to see Katherine, using both hands, striving to level the heavy weapon. Before he could yell out a warning, her finger had squeezed the trigger. There was the most almighty report, and a moment later, appearing dazed and not just a little embarrassed, she was sitting plump in the middle of the village street.

Galvanised, Daniel was beside her in an instant, demanding to know whether she was hurt. ‘Only my pride,’ she assured him, glancing at where she had dropped the firearm. ‘What in the name of heaven is that thing?’

‘The Lord only knows! Looks to be something between a blunderbuss and a “Brown Bess” to me. A “Brown Bess” is a musket,’ he explained in response to her questioning look.

He cast her an impatient one in return as he helped her to her feet. ‘Don’t you know any better than to attempt to handle unfamiliar firearms, young woman?’ he demanded sharply, continued anxiety over her well-being making him sound far harsher than he had intended. ‘They can be notoriously unpredictable, not to mention downright dangerous. Though it appears,’ he added, betraying a hint of admiration in his expression now, as he glanced at the spot directly in front of the inn, where the fourth attacker lay motionless on the ground, with something which Daniel couldn’t quite make out lying on the road beside him, ‘that you managed to discharge that monstrosity with remarkable accuracy. No mean feat, my darling, believe me!’

He quite failed to notice the swift and faintly sheepish look cast up at him through long lashes, for his attention was captured by a few villagers who had begun to emerge from their houses in order to investigate the commotion. To remain a moment longer would, he knew, be to court more trouble. There was every chance that others in search of them were in the area. Furthermore, he didn’t relish the prospect of trying to explain to the French authorities just why they were being pursued across the country by a gang of hired assassins. Consequently he took a firm hold of a slender wrist and, before she knew what was happening, hauled Katherine willy-nilly out of the village towards a large stretch of rising pasture land, dotted with sheep happily grazing.

Katherine perfectly understood the reasons for their hasty departure. She could appreciate too why they could not have delayed in order to harness the horse to the gig. All the same, she felt that she might have been allowed the few seconds it would have taken to collect her bonnet from the blacksmith’s barn.

The wind whistling across the open ground caught at her hair, lashing strands across her face. The cowl on her cloak was of precious little use, for unless she kept a firm hold on it the wind whipped it back in a trice. She refrained from complaining, however, for she needed all her breath in order to keep abreast of her companion.

Daniel set a cracking pace, and Katherine found herself almost having to run in order to keep up with that elegant, long-striding gait. Not until they had left the village far behind, and he seemed satisfied that no one was giving chase, did he attempt to walk at a more moderate speed; even so he did not suggest that they rest until quite some time later, when the open landscape had given way to a vast woodland area.

Settling himself on the grass, Daniel leaned his back against the substantial trunk of a conveniently fallen tree. Although he wasn’t breathing particularly heavily, after their swiftly executed cross-country flight, Katherine wasn’t slow to note that he was looking a little flushed. Initially she didn’t give much thought to the unusual ruddy complexion, until she noticed him favouring his left arm, grasping it at frequent intervals beneath the folds of his cloak. Then, as he withdrew his right hand again, she clearly saw the telltale red stains between the long fingers.

‘Daniel, you’re hurt!’

Forgetting her own insignificant discomforts, she dropped to her knees beside him, and threw back his cloak before he had a chance to stop her. The instant her eyes focused on the charred portion of jacket just below the shoulder, and the dark stain surrounding the hole, she remembered the first shot fired in the barn. She had thought the attacker had missed his target entirely. Clearly he had not.

‘Why on earth didn’t you say something, you foolish creature!’ she scolded.

Daniel assured her that it was nothing, barely a scratch, but made no demur when she insisted that he remove his cloak and jacket, and then his shirt, because the wound was too high up on the arm to reach by merely rolling up the sleeve.

Obligingly, he pulled the linen garment over his head, sending his dark brown hair into disarray. It was by no means the first time Katherine had seen a person of the opposite sex in a state of undress. Many a time when she had lived in Ireland she had seen men remove their shirts on warm summer days before they had attempted to groom one of her father’s fine horses. So the sight of dark hair covering a well-muscled chest came as no surprise to her whatsoever. What sent a shock wave rippling through her, however, bringing her almost to the verge of tears, was the clear evidence of past suffering, and unmistakable bravery.

Without conscious thought, she reached out and began to trace the path of the longest scar, which ran from his right shoulder almost down to his pelvis, only to have her fingers swiftly captured in a firm yet gentle clasp.

‘What is it, Katherine?’ Daniel wasn’t slow to detect long lashes moistened by tears barely held in check. ‘What has occurred to upset you?’

‘I-I feel so very ashamed.’ Her voice was little more than a shaky whisper, but there was no mistaking the heartfelt contrition it contained. ‘So very ashamed that I ever thought so badly of you; that I foolishly attempted to hold you responsible for dear Helen’s death, when I always knew deep down that it wasn’t your fault.’

Although she didn’t attempt to draw her hand from his, she seemed unwilling, or unable, to meet his gaze, and her complexion had grown worryingly quite ashen. He didn’t doubt her sincerity, but was puzzled by the admission. He had been inclined to dismiss her dislike of him as nothing more than a pampered young woman’s childish spite. Now that he had come to know her a little better he was certain that that initial judgement had been sadly flawed. She was no foolish ninnyhammer prone to take a pet for no reason. Far more, he now realised, lay behind her former conduct towards him.

‘Why were you so determined to dislike me, Katherine?’ There was no response. Undeterred, he added, ‘Come, do you not think that the man you’ve treated with such contempt on occasions deserves an explanation?’

This succeeded in drawing her eyes briefly to his, before she turned her attention to his most recent injury. ‘Because it was far easier to blame you than myself,’ she finally admitted, astonishing him somewhat.

Removing her hand from his at last, Katherine delved into the pocket of her skirt for her handkerchief, and proceeded to dab at the wound, which blessedly was little more than a scratch. ‘I’m a scourge, Daniel. Everyone I have ever loved, or cared for deeply, every person with whom I have lived, has died. I tried to convince myself that Helen, at least, might have survived had she not lost the will to do so because she was mooning like a lovesick fool over you. It was grossly unfair of me to try to pin the blame on you. She was far too immature to capture a gentleman’s interest. I suspect you were hardly aware of her existence … just as you were hardly aware of mine when I lived with my grandfather for those few short months. How I wish now that I had never resided in Dorsetshire!’

Not knowing quite how to respond, and feeling confused by these startling disclosures, Daniel remained silent as he watched her rise to her feet, and move in that graceful way of hers over to the tiny stream which gurgled its way through the woodland just a few yards from where he sat.

He didn’t doubt for a moment that for some obscure reason she was determined to hold herself in some way responsible for the deaths of her grandfather and her friend, and possibly her parents too. He had no idea how Mr and Mrs O’Malley had met their maker, but there was no mystery about Colonel Fairchild’s demise, and Helen Rushton was by no means the only person to succumb to that outbreak of smallpox. Unless he was mistaken, her mother had perished too. So why was Katherine so determined to blame herself?

Although he would be forced to admit that, as yet, he didn’t know her very well, he wouldn’t have supposed for a moment that she was a young woman prone to indulging in foolish flights of fancy. So what deep-rooted fear was persuading her to believe such absolute nonsense? There was something … there simply had to be! And he was determined to discover precisely what that something was.

Deciding not to press her for an explanation quite yet, and thereby risk damaging the rather sweet rapport which had surprisingly developed between them, he changed the subject the instant she returned by remarking that he was relieved to see that the sight of blood didn’t turn her queasy. ‘Not that I’m unduly surprised,’ he added, bestowing a look of the utmost respect upon her, as she began to dab at the slight wound with the handkerchief which she had soaked in the clear waters of the stream. ‘Any young woman who possesses the courage to do what you did back there in that village isn’t likely to flinch at the sight of a little blood.’

She cast him a distinctly rueful smile. ‘You may as well know now that I have been cursed with an appalling temper, Major. I’ve learned to control it over the years … well, at least for the most part,’ she added, incurably truthful. ‘But the sight of those four men setting about you made me fume. Damnable cowards!’

‘And you came to my aid without any thought for your own safety,’ he murmured, experiencing a wealth of oddly contrasting emotions which left him not quite knowing whether he wished to kiss or shake her for doing such a foolhardy yet courageous thing. ‘Wellington could have done with you out in the Peninsula, my girl. Who did you say taught you to handle firearms, by the way?’

‘My father,’ she reminded him, before asking if he had a handkerchief about his person.

He delved into the pocket of his breeches and drew out a square of linen, which she promptly pressed over the cleaned wound. ‘You’re a damned fine shot. You’d have made an excellent rifleman had you been a boy.’

This time he didn’t miss the faintly sheepish expression, and was puzzled by it until she announced, ‘It’s no good. My conscience simply won’t permit me to allow you to continue to view me as some sort of wonder woman. I’ve discovered today that I’m not that good a shot.’

He raised his brows at this. ‘You managed to down that rogue who was doing his level best to get away,’ he reminded her.

‘Yes, and no,’ she responded, confounding him still further, before once again casting him a glance from beneath long lashes. ‘Did you not notice the inn sign lying in the road?’

‘I noticed something, certainly.’

Katherine decided to confess before she had a chance to change her mind. ‘Well, the truth of the matter is … I hit the sign, shattering its hinge, and the sign hit him, plump on the head.’

For several moments Daniel regarded her in silence, then he threw back his head and roared with laughter. The woodland area surrounding them resounded with the infectious sound, and Katherine found it impossible not to laugh herself.

‘It isn’t that funny!’ she chided gently, regaining control first. ‘I was mortified, I can tell you, when I saw that dratted sign fall. My aim has never been so awry before.’

‘I doubt anyone would have stood the remotest chance of hitting his mark with that monstrous weapon,’ he assured her, as she rose to her feet and blithely tore a strip off the bottom of her underskirt.

The sight of a neatly turned ankle, swiftly followed by the renewed touch of those gentle fingers on his arm, as she deftly wound the strip of material over his handkerchief, certainly put a further strain on his self-control. Desperate to turn his thoughts in a new direction, he searched about for something, anything, that might take his mind off earthy masculine desires, and his gaze swiftly fell upon her bloodstained handkerchief, lying on the ground.

Reaching for it, and earning himself a stern reprimand in the process for not sitting still, he studied the beautifully embroidered monogram in one corner. ‘Is this your stitch-work, Katherine?’

‘No. Bridie embroidered it. She was my nursemaid when I was a child,’ she explained when he raised an enquiring brow. ‘Now she’s my personal maid … housekeeper … you name it.’

‘What does the “F” stand for?’

A moment’s silence, then, ‘Fairchild.’ She grimaced. ‘I’ve Bridie to thank for that too!’ she informed him, her disgruntled tone evidence enough that she wasn’t best pleased. ‘Apparently she took one look at me and announced that I was the fairest child she’d ever set eyes on. My mother, much struck by this, as it happened to be her maiden name, decided it would be most appropriate, and as Papa had chosen my Christian name he allowed her to have her way.’

‘Fairchild,’ he echoed. ‘Yes, it suits you. It suits you very well.’

Half-suspecting him of mockery, Katherine paused in her tying of the makeshift bandage to cast him a suspicious glance. ‘There, that should hold,’ she announced, reaching for his shirt. ‘Hurry and get dressed. I don’t want you taking a chill on top of everything else.’

The garment was stained with blood, but he had no choice but to put it back on. Neither of them had a change of clothes, which, Katherine mused, didn’t appear to trouble Daniel to any great extent; but she knew it would begin to irk her unbearably if she was forced to remain in the same garments for any length of time. She wasn’t accustomed to going without meals either. Not a morsel of food had passed her lips since the previous evening, and she was now beginning to feel decidedly peckish.

Refraining from bringing this to his attention, she merely seated herself on the fallen tree. Despite the fact that Daniel’s injury was, as he had stated himself, only slight, and she didn’t suppose any complications would arise as a result of it, he was still looking slightly flushed, so it could do no harm to let him rest for a while.

Evidently he was of a similar mind, for he made himself more comfortable, and very soon afterwards closed his eyes. Katherine sat quietly beside him for a while, content to gaze at their pretty surroundings, which were thankfully betraying clear signs that spring had arrived. Then her stomach elected to remind her quite noisily that she required something to eat, and she decided it was time to do something about it.