Swept Away (16 page)

“What are you talking about?”

“It is obvious that we are getting nowhere. Hopefully, if you sleep on it, you will be more cooperative in the morning. I can assure you that I, at least, will be in a better humor for a night's sleep.”

“You expect me to sleep like this?” Julia held out her bound hands.

“I don't remember your worrying excessively over whether I could sleep—or even sit comfortably—with my arms and legs bound to that chair.”

Julia could not mask the guilt that touched her face at his words, and he said, faintly surprised, “Ah, so that arrow went home, did it?”

“I—I did not want to hurt you.” She thought that she must sound as if she were begging his pardon, which she
would
not do, so she lifted her chin and looked him defiantly in the eye. “But I did not shrink from it. Your comfort was not a consideration.”

“Obviously. However, I find I haven't as hard a heart as you.”

To her astonishment, he began to undo the knot that bound her ankles. “I trust,” he said, “that you will not take it into your head to flee for the door. It is locked, and I would easily catch you. Then I would have to tie your ankles up again, forgetting all about mercy.”

He took the rope that had bound her ankles and tied it to one of her wrists, just above the rope that held her hands together.

“What are you doing?”

“Allowing you a bit of movement—without letting you have the freedom to get into trouble, as you no doubt would, being the most troublesome female I have ever met.” He led her to the foot of the bed and tied the other end of the rope to the bedpost closest to the wall. “Now I shall untie your hands, with the same warning. If you start to fight or try to untie yourself, I shall bind you up again in a trice, and I think you will find it infinitely more awkward.”

Julia nodded her understanding. She refused to thank him.

He untied her hands, and Julia could not hold back a sigh of relief. Unconsciously she rubbed the red marks on each wrist. Stonehaven looked down at her wrists. His jaw clenched, and he turned away abruptly.

“There are the conveniences,” he said, gesturing toward the wall, where a washbasin and pitcher stood ready on a table, towels hanging on the lyre-shaped chair back. Next to it was a plain brown wooden commode, in which was hidden, Julia knew, a chamber pot.

She could not help but feel a rush of gratitude toward Stonehaven, and she remembered with even more guilt that she had shown him none of the same consideration.

He walked toward the door, saying, “I shall go outside for a few moments. Since I am quite good at tying knots, I shouldn't waste my time, if I were you, trying to undo the one that binds you to the bedpost.”

“I shall not endeavor to flee,” Julia said. “Not now, I mean, though I won't guarantee for the future.”

He turned and shot her a quizzical look, brows raised. Julia gazed back at him pugnaciously, hands on hips. “There's no need to look like that. I give you my word!”

“Ah, and I am sure I consider your word a bond,” he replied ironically.

The gratitude Julia had been feeling toward him disappeared, and she glared at him. “Go on, then! Think whatever you like!”

He bowed toward her in a sardonic way and left the room. She noticed that he took the key with him and locked the door. She grimaced toward the blank door and stuck her tongue out. Then she turned to avail herself of the opportunity he had offered.

She felt much better once she had used the facilities, awkward though it had been with one hand tied to the bedpost. It was not quite as uncomfortable to wash her hands and face, and she felt much relieved afterward. If only she had a brush, she thought, she would be able to feel almost satisfied. However, she did not have one, so she had to content herself with running her fingers through her hair to comb it. She had not put her hair back up after Deverel had had her take it down in the carriage, and it was, as a result, rather tangled.

With a sigh, she sat down on the end of the bed to await Stonehaven's return. She occupied herself by examining the rope around her wrist and the knot that kept it there, as well as the knot around the post of the bed. She had promised not to undo them at this time, but, she reasoned, she had not said she would not look at them for future reference. Depressingly, however, she could see that he was right in his assessment of his knot-tying ability. It would take her ages to undo the thing, if she was able to at all. The best recourse was a knife, but unfortunately, she did not happen to have one of those handy.

It occurred to her to wonder how Lord Stonehaven had gotten out of his bonds back at the hut. She would have sworn that Nunnelly tied a sturdy knot. He must have used something to cut his way free—had he had a knife secreted about him that he had somehow managed to get to? She could not imagine how. He had probably used something there in the hut to cut it. She glanced around the room, wondering what object in here she might use. The only things she could find within reach were the washbasin and pitcher. Perhaps, if she broke one of them, the shards would be sharp enough that she could use one of them to cut through the rope. Tomorrow morning, she thought, she would not give any promise not to run, and she would see what she could do with broken pottery. She craned her neck to look out the nearest window, hoping that there might be a tree handy for climbing down. Unfortunately, it was too light inside to allow her to see anything out there.

The door opened behind her, and she jumped guiltily and whirled around. She had been so busy looking that she had not listened for his footsteps in the hall.

“No hope there,” Deverel told her with annoying good cheer. “I looked when I was outside. There are no trees or trellises or even a useful drainpipe. I fear it is a sheer drop straight down.”

She gave him a quelling look and sat down on the bed, looking, she hoped, as indifferent and disdainful as a duchess. Stonehaven turned the key in the door, locking it. Julia noticed with some hope that he had left the key in the lock. She would be able to unlock the door—if only she could get free from this rope that bound her to the bed. He took off his jacket and hung it carefully over the back of the chair. Next he yanked off his cravat, much rumpled and disordered, and pulled his shirt out of his breeches. Julia wondered with a certain amount of horror if he planned to undress in front of her, but he removed nothing else except his shoes and stockings.

He strolled over to the washstand and, rolling up his sleeves, began to wash his hands. Julia, seeing his wrists for the first time, let out a gasp. There were several streaks of dried blood on his wrists, particularly the left one. She saw now, too, that there were streaks of blood on his shirtsleeves.

“What?” He looked up at the noise she made.

“Your arms.” She pointed. “What happened? Why are they bloody?”

He glanced down at them as if a little surprised to see the blood there. “That's where I cut free of the rope. That's why I had only those short lengths of rope. I couldn't untie them, the way your friend bound me, so I had to cut them loose.”

“But with what?” Julia felt a little sick, looking at the jagged cuts that decorated his flesh.

“The chimney of the lamp you left. I worked the chair over to it, pulled off the chimney and broke it.”

Julia turned away, feeling guilty. But she hadn't expected him to go to such lengths to free himself! How could she have known that he would be so stubborn and recalcitrant? After all, she had not set out to hurt him, she reasoned, shoving aside the thought that she had intended to hit him over the head from the very start. Anyway, he was the enemy, she reminded herself; she could not allow herself to be softhearted about his hurts.

Stonehaven looked at her consideringly for a moment, then returned to washing his face and hands. When he was through, he went to the bed and turned down the covers. Julia, watching him, said with some asperity, “Do you plan to leave me standing here all night?”

“I might point out that it is no worse than you deserve. However, that is not my intention.”

He came around to the end of the bed and, to her surprise, began to work at the knot that tied the rope to the bedpost. She assumed that he intended to bind her hands together again, and she sighed at the thought of trying to sleep that way. However, to her surprise, he did not wrap the rope around her other wrist, but tied it instead to one of his own wrists. She gaped at him.

“What are you doing?”

“Ensuring that you do not try to escape during the night. I assume you realize that even a heavy sleeper would awaken if you tried to untie this rope. Since I am not accounted a heavy sleeper…”

“But that means that you and I—” She glanced toward the bed, then back at him, and a blush started in her cheeks.

“Yes, we shall have to sleep together. Don't worry about your precious virtue.” He gave the words a sarcastic emphasis that reminded her of how little he regarded her virtue as a precious commodity. “I believe I already made it clear that I lost all desire to bed you once I discovered what you were.” He executed a little bow, saying, “Like you, I shall give you my word that I will not molest you.”

Julia sniffed. “Then I must say that, like
you,
I place little credence in your word. It seems to me that honesty deserts a man when it comes to getting a woman into bed.”

He raised a brow. “I assure you that at this point I am interested in nothing but sleep. However, if you care to sleep on the floor, I am sure that I could rebind your hands and attach them to the bedpost.”

“No!” Julia looked at the dusty floor with revulsion. “I will sleep in the bed,” she agreed, somewhat sulkily.

He made a gesture toward the bed, inviting her to climb in first, and she did so, sliding beneath the covers and moving as far away from Deverel as the rope would stretch. She turned her back on him, lying as stiff as a board, every sense alert. She felt the mattress sag beneath his weight, then heard the gust of air as he blew out the candle. The room was plunged into darkness. He moved around a bit and then—impossibly quickly, it seemed to Julia—she heard his breathing grow slower and more even. He was, she thought with some resentment, already asleep. Of course, she was glad that he had not tried to have his way with her, she told herself, but it seemed a trifle insulting that he was able to go to sleep with so little disturbance—especially since she was lying wide-awake, every nerve stretched to the utmost.

She sighed and turned over, twisting and moving around in an attempt to get comfortable. After a time she slid her hand noiselessly across the sheets, following the rope until she found the knot which tied it to his arm.

“I believe I pointed out the futility of trying to undo that while I slept.” His voice came out of the darkness, causing her to start. “I am, as I told you, a very light sleeper.”

Julia made no reply but merely turned over again. Exhaustion finally won out, and she fell asleep.

 

Though the curtains of the inn were not heavy, allowing the sun to light their bedchamber as soon as it dawned, the light streaming through the window was not enough to waken the exhausted sleepers, who had been up until something close to dawn themselves. It was nearing noon before Julia was finally dragged from her sleep.

It was the heat that did it. She was burning up, in the midst of a dream in which she was tramping through a sunny meadow on a glaringly hot day. No matter how far she walked, she could not seem to reach the trees in the distance. Her throat was parched, and she was sweating, and her skin felt as if it were on fire. She came slowly out of the dream, blinking.

She was indeed wrapped in heat. She pushed against the weight draped over her, and finally it dawned on her where she was. She was in the inn, and the weight that lay across her was Deverel's arm. Her eyes flew open in alarm, and her brain started to work again.

She and Stonehaven were lying in the middle of the bed, cuddled together, with her back to his front, fitted together like spoons in a drawer. She could feel the hard length of his desire against her buttocks, prodding against her insistently. The arm that was bound to hers lay behind her, but his free arm was draped across her body, just as one of his legs was thrown over hers. Most disturbing of all, his hand was cupped familiarly around her breast.

His body was like a furnace. She felt as if she could scarcely breathe. Making it all worse was the fact that her skin was tingling and her loins were heavy and aching. Her breasts were swollen and the nipples taut. She was, in effect, thoroughly aroused by him without any effort on his part. What was the matter with her? Why did the man she hated cause such a reaction in her?

Deverel let out a small groan and snuggled his body closer to her, if that was possible. Julia was aware of an insane desire to push her hips back against him, but she controlled herself. He murmured something incomprehensible and nuzzled into her hair. She felt his breath on her neck, then the warm, velvety touch of his lips to her skin.

Julia let out a low shriek and rolled over, shoving against him with all her might. She managed to push him out of bed, and he landed with a thud on the floor, his eyes flying open in confusion, but her satisfaction was spoiled by the fact that their bound arms pulled her off, too. She landed a second later on top of him.