Читать книгу Regency Pleasures and Sins Part 1 - Louise Allen, Christine Merrill - Страница 35

Katherine looked deep into the dark eyes opposite and read anger, frustration and truth. She was not married to a highwayman, she was married to Nicholas Lydgate who was falsely accused and was due to be hanged in five days’ time. Fear ran through her, knotting her stomach.

‘What happened? Who did it?’

‘You believe me?’ He sounded incredulous, as though he had not expected this reaction.

‘Yes, of course.’

‘Why? Why should you believe me, Kat?’

Katherine thought about it. ‘Instinct? I trusted you from the beginning, I am not sure why. I look into your eyes and I see the truth. I am used to living with a weak man, one who lies and twists. I believe I can recognise a strong and an honest one when I meet him.’

Nick flushed, half-turned from her, running his hand over his face as though to smother some emotion her trust evoked. ‘Thank you for that.’

‘So what happened?’ she prompted.

‘I had just returned from France. I had been on the continent for some time and it was years since I had been in England. I went first to Aylesbury, hoping that an old friend was still there, but they told me he had moved away long ago. I decided to go to London, it seemed as good a place as any while I thought about what to do next.

‘Just outside Hemel Hempstead the road runs over an area of rough grazing beside the river, called Box Moor. It had been a filthy day—wet, driving rain and cold with it. It got dark early and I was trying to decide whether to push on to King’s Langley or turn off to Hemel Hempstead when I saw an inn ahead. Not much of a place, certainly not somewhere gentry frequent, and when I walked in I thought either they or I were drunk.’

‘Why?’ Katherine reached for the wine bottle and poured herself a glass without thinking. His voice was easy to listen to, strong yet well modulated. Nick removed the wine from her hand, topped up his own glass and put the bottle out of reach.

‘They recognised me. For a few seconds people turned as if to greet me, hands were raised, the landlord reached for a tankard and began to draw ale without being asked. A pretty barmaid ran over and gave me a kiss.’

‘But did they know you?’

‘No, of course not. The moment I stepped out of the shadows into the light of the bar it all changed. Shoulders were turned, men went back to their cards and their pipes. Even the barmaid flounced off.’

‘Then what happened?’ Katherine was so engaged with the story and the wine was so warm in her veins that she forgot her reticence at being alone with Nicholas. It felt like being alone with an old friend.

‘I asked for a room and stabling for my horse. The landlord was reluctant, surly even. If it had not been such a foul night, I would have walked out and found another lodging. I wish I had! But I persisted and eventually the girl showed me to a room. Not much of one, but it would do. I saw my horse settled and had a meal. The atmosphere was strange; they were uneasy, as though waiting for something, and people would slip out and come back in again.’

‘Um, the privy?’ Katherine suggested.

‘That is what I thought at the time. Then it all went very quiet. The barmaid brought me a beaker of rum. It was to help me sleep, she said, because it was such a rough night.’

‘You drank it and it was drugged?’

‘It was. I made my way upstairs, wondering why my legs were so weary, but I put it down to the long ride. I pulled off my clothes, I think. I can remember falling on the bed, then nothing until I was shaken awake.’

‘By whom?’ Katherine swallowed with tension.

‘A captain of dragoons, two of his men, the local magistrate and his parish constable. The magistrate had a bandage round his head and was in a towering rage. It seems he had just been held up at gunpoint on the Moor by Black Jack Standon, scourge of those parts, and had been hit on the head and lightened of his watch, card case and rings. The man had become such a menace over the past few months that the dragoons had been stationed in the vicinity to catch him and the magistrate put them hot on his heels.’

‘But why did they think you were he?’ Katherine demanded. ‘A perfectly respectable traveller …’

‘A man bearing a close resemblance to a tall, dark, black-eyed highwayman. And a man, apparently drunk on rum, slumped on a bed in a shady inn known to be one of Black Jack’s haunts. My clothes and all my possessions had gone and I was dressed in the clothes you saw me in today. My horse had vanished and in its place was a distinctive black gelding with one white foot and a white blaze. Black Jack’s horse. The barmaid put on a particularly good act, throwing herself on my chest and sobbing that I was not Black Jack. Naturally that looked as suspicious as hell.’

‘But you told them who you were? Surely your friends …’ Once again the light went out of his eyes, just as it had when she had asked him about his dependents. Katherine watched the strong line of his jaw tense before he answered.

‘There is no one. Everything I had to prove my identity had gone. The trial was a foregone conclusion and so was the verdict.’

‘So Black Jack escaped the dragoons. And all he has to do is lie low for another week or so …’

‘Five days to be precise, as of noon tomorrow.’

‘Why are you not angry?’ Katherine demanded. Fury was building in her on his behalf. ‘The coward might just as well have shot you in the back!’

Nick shrugged. ‘Anger will not do me any good. He was caught like a rat in a trap and got out of it with some quick thinking. It was just his good fortune that I have no way of proving who I am. Most people would have been shown to be innocent within days; as it is, the hunt will be off—he could not have predicted it.’ He looked keenly at her. ‘Now, Kat, don’t cry. Why are you crying?’

‘Because I am angry,’ she said, rubbing furiously at her eyes with her handkerchief and glaring at him, defying him to read any other emotion into her sudden spurt of tears. He looked back, an amused smile tugging the corners of what she was increasingly aware was a very sensual mouth. His eyes were dark and steady on her and she swallowed. He was a very attractive man. A very big, very masculine man and any minute he was going to …

‘I think we should go to bed, Kat.’

She had been expecting it all evening, knew it was inevitable; still she could not suppress the little gasp of alarm.

‘Kat, I said we should go to bed, not anything else. We can talk if you like or we can go to sleep, but that is all, I promise.’

‘You don’t want to—’ Her voice failed her.

‘Make love to you? Yes, of course I want to,’ he said matter of factly. ‘I am a man, you are a very attractive young lady who just happens to be my wife. But I have no intention of forcing an unwilling woman.’

‘You would not be—I mean, I would not be.’ Katherine swallowed. This was very difficult. ‘We had a bargain. I am resolved to honour my side of it. How else can I repay you?’

‘With a daily supply of plum cake for a week?’

‘Do not laugh at me!’

‘I am not, I respect your courage and your sense of honour. I should not have said what I did about the marriage being consummated. Of course it does not have to be: all that is needed is for us to be seen to have spent the night together.’

‘But we are married, we are here and you said you wanted to.’ Inwardly she flinched. Did she sound as though she was begging him to make love to her? Of course she was not, it could not be that making her feel confused and disappointed and hot inside.

‘I have been doing some thinking.’ Nick got to his feet and began to shrug off his coat. ‘What if you were with child as a result? You will have a hard enough time of it as it is without carrying a highwayman’s child.’

Katherine’s internal turmoil took a new frightening swoop. ‘I never thought of that.’

‘Yes, well, it happens. Now please, Katherine, get into bed. I have been dreaming of a good night’s sleep in a decent bed for weeks.’

‘You have the bed then, I will sit up.’ She felt as panicky as if he had begun to make love to her.

‘Do you want me to undress you and put you to bed?’ That glint was back in his eyes, the sensual drawl back in his voice. Katherine was in no doubt he would enjoy the tussle.

‘There is no need,’ she said with a dignity she was far from feeling. ‘If you would just turn your back, I will get into bed.’

He did so, spinning his chair around and sitting at the table. Katherine scrambled out of her clothes and into the nightgown she had brought. She had chosen the flimsiest, prettiest one she had while she was still buoyed up with her determination to prove willing and to please him; now it seemed scandalous.

She pulled the pins from her hair until it tumbled down her back and slipped into bed. The sheets came up to her chin. ‘I am in bed.’

‘Good. Now close your eyes in approved maidenly fashion and I will join you.’ He was laughing, the wretch. Katherine screwed up her eyes and reflected that if Nick Lydgate was getting some amusement from the evening it was no more than she owed him.

There was the sound of boots hitting the floor, the softer sound of clothes falling on a chair, then the covers moved, the bed dipped and he was beside her. Katherine felt his warmth, the touch of linen against her skin. Thank goodness he had retained his shirt. He smelt good; there was the familiar soap she bought for Philip, but under it a faint scent that could only be himself, clean, warm and relaxed.

‘That is a devilishly pretty nightgown, Kat.’ The straw mattress moved as he shifted to settle himself beside her. She opened her eyes just a fraction and saw he had snuffed all but two of the candles. ‘You should not be looking. Oh!’

He caught her in his arms and rolled her against his chest, his face buried in her hair. ‘My God, you smell good.’

‘No! You promised.’ Katherine wriggled.

‘I am not going to do anything but hold you and enjoy the scent of you. Now stop wriggling, it is extremely provocative and I will either break my promise or fall out of bed if you persist. That is a very charming noise you are making—you sound like a cross kitten.’

Katherine subsided. Infuriating man … but he did appear to be as good as his word, he was simply holding her. She could feel his breath stirring her hair, but his arms were strong and unmoving around her and his hands did not stroke or caress.

This was a very strange sensation, being held by a man. She tried to sort it out. The bed was surprisingly comfortable and she had drunk a whole glass and a half of wine, so her head felt a little muzzy. Nick’s arms around her, though unfamiliar, made her feel protected and safe. But his body—that was quite another thing. That made her feel anything but safe, yet she was not in the slightest bit frightened. Just shy and confused. He was hot and long and felt very hard and strong. She shivered, not from fear, but from a restless need to explore, touch …

‘Try and relax and go to sleep.’

‘I am relaxed.’

‘No, you are not, you are quivering.’

‘Oh. I am sorry.’ She must stop thinking about how this felt, think of something else. It did not take much effort to find a topic. The story Nick had just told her came back in all its horrifying detail. It was as effective as cold water splashed in her face. This man who was holding her so gently was going to be executed in just a few days for a crime he did not commit. Anger stirred again and with it the beginnings of an idea.

‘Nick?’

‘Mmm?’ He sounded half-asleep.

‘What was the name of the inn? The one at Box Moor.’

‘The Lamb, I think. No, the Lamb and Flag. Why?’ ‘Nothing.’ She yawned. ‘I just wondered.’ And slept.

When she woke there was daylight in the room from a high barred window and she had no recollection of stirring in the night. They were lying as they had gone to sleep, but in a far more intimate tangle. With the colour rising to her cheeks, Katherine realised that her nightgown had ridden up around her hips and one of Nick’s legs was over hers.

She felt him move and raise his head. ‘Kat? Are you awake?’

‘Umm.’

‘We had better get up soon, I heard the clock strike seven.’

‘Oh.’

Are you usually this chatty in the morning?’

She smothered a snort of amusement. ‘I do not know. I am not in the habit of waking up in bed with anyone.’

‘I am glad to hear it.’

She felt him throw back the covers and his warmth left her. Grumbling, she burrowed down into the body-shaped dip in the mattress, eyes tight shut.

‘You look like a cat who has finally managed to secure all of the sofa cushion,’ Nick remarked. From the muffled sound of his voice he was pulling a shirt over his head.

‘You let the cold in.’

‘I am sorry. But you must get up now. There is some cold water on the wash stand behind the screen in the corner and I am gazing fixedly at the ceiling and a large spider directly above the bed.’

‘Wretch.’ Reluctantly Katherine opened her eyes and jumped out of bed. The water was indeed cold, and by the time she had washed and dressed she was well and truly awake. And the chill seemed to have settled in a hard knot in her stomach.

When she emerged, Nick was laying the remains of the meat and bread out on the table and had found the bottle of ale she had included. ‘Are you as silent over breakfast?’

‘No.’ It was strangely difficult to look at him. Katherine wondered how she would be feeling if they had made love last night. She jumped as he pulled the cork from the bottle with a pop and made herself smile and take the proffered glass. ‘Thank you. Did you sleep well last night?’

‘So well. I should not have done with a beautiful woman in my arms. I should have lain awake in torment.’ He laughed as Katherine frowned at him. ‘You are very soothing.’

That was a mixed bundle of compliments to be sure. ‘Beautiful’ produced a warm glow. No one had ever called her that before. But she was not sure that being soothing was preferable to being the sort of woman who drove men wild with uncontrollable desire.

She sneaked a sideways look at him while he ate. His hair was too long and was decidedly untidy. Goodness knows what he had done with the comb. There was the night’s growth of stubble shadowing his chin and his eyes, despite his protestations of a good sleep, seemed heavy and brooding. Good cheekbones, she decided, and a very straight nose.

Katherine wanted to get up and go and rub his shoulders, wrap her arms around him and hug him until that bleak look vanished. But what power had a hug to banish the thought of the cell he was about to return to?

They packed the hamper again, stripped the bed and folded the sheets. Katherine risked teasing a little. ‘You are very domesticated.’

‘It comes from being in the army.’

‘Were you? Which regiment?’

‘A cavalry regiment,’ he said evasively.

‘But surely there are some of your fellow officers in England, in London! Tell me some names and I will go to Horse Guards. Oh, Nick, why did you not think of that before?’

‘Because I enlisted as a trooper, under a false name,’ he said with a finality that warned her not to pursue the reason why. ‘There, all packed.’

The clock began to chime. ‘Nick … ‘

‘Come here,’ he said roughly, pulling her towards him by the shoulders.

Katherine went without conscious thought, wrapping her arms around him and tipping her face up to his. His mouth on hers was not gentle, not tender, it made no allowance for her innocence or inexperience.

Clinging to Nick’s shoulders, swept along by his need, Katherine opened to him, instinctively parting her lips as he ravished them, meeting his thrusting tongue with hers. It was as though he needed to absorb her, press her to him until she left an imprint on his body.

He let her go as suddenly as he had taken her, staring down with eyes like dark flame. Katherine licked her lips, tasting him on them. Her hands went up to lock into the long hair at his nape and he put his own hands up to catch her wrists.

‘Katherine …’

The clock struck eight.