A Dangerous Courtship (3 page)

Veronica made a fast decision. With a strangled cry, she flung herself up toward an outcropping of stone, stretching and reaching as high as she could, her hat tumbling off her head as she did so. If she was fast enough and strong enough, perhaps she could pull herself up and out of the beasts' reach.

The moment her gloved hands latched around the stone she knew she'd miscalculated. She wasn't strong enough to haul her entire body up the face of the wall.

She smothered a scream, squeezing her eyes shut tight and trying to fling her legs to the side and upward. But her gloved fingers slid down the stone and she felt the snap of a wild dog too close to her heels.

It was then that strong hands latched about her wrists and hauled her upward.

Veronica, thrusting her head back and finally daring to open her eyes, looked up into the blackest gaze she'd ever seen, framed in a very masculine face carved with what could only be described as fierce determination.

Bearded, his black hair shoulder long and shagged, the man looked thoroughly lawless. He wore snug breeches that encased his muscular legs, sported dusty knee boots that appeared the worse for wear, and wore a linen shirt that had seen better days. His ungloved hands were callused but strong, and he seemed to have the strength and unerring drive of two men as he swept Veronica's lithe body up and clear from the jaws of certain death.

Before she could truly comprehend all that was happening, Veronica found herself settled firmly atop an outcropping of flat stone, standing flush with a man who had clearly lived apart from the civilized world for far too long.

Veronica's terror at being eaten alive was quickly replaced by danger of a different kind... of a more human element.

She swallowed hard.

"Th-thank you," Veronica managed to say. "If not for you, I—I fear I would be at the mercy of those... those animals."

But no matter how wild the dogs below were, her rescuer appeared far more dangerous. He also didn't appear to hear a word she'd said—or mayhap, he did not
care
to hear.

Whatever his predisposition, Veronica's rescuer pressed her back against the stonework, pinning her there with the full length of his body. She wondered if he was acting as shield between her and the dogs below, or if he had a more sinister thought in mind.

Veronica drew in a sharp breath, feeling the thud of his heart against her breasts.

The man's body was hard and firm, his arms contoured with muscle. He spoke no words, just held her fast against the stone, staring hard into her face. His intense silence frightened her. Veronica was just about to thrust away from him when one of the animals lunged upward.

In that instant, her rescuer proved no stranger to danger. He spun about just as the animal leaped up and onto the ledge. He met the beast chest to chest, then heaved it back down to the ground.

Things happened fast after that. The man turned back toward her, captured her in a tight embrace, then thrust her to the left, out of harm's way just as she heard her coachman, Shelton, shout out. Immediately following came the sound of Shelton's trusty blunderbuss as the coachman, no doubt spying the animals, took aim and fired his gun.

A volley of sound reverberated within what was left of the abbey's walls. Veronica heard a screeching whinny from her horse, a growl from one of the animals below, and then heard her own boots scrape against stone as the stranger pulled her out of the line of fire... then plunged them both over the opposite side of the wall they stood upon.

Chapter 3

The two of them slid down a slope in the stonework, Veronica's body miraculously cushioned by that of her rescuer. She instinctively curled against him, hiding her face in his shirtfront.

Down, down they went until—with a thud that the man totally absorbed—they came to a stop within a small expanse of grass and flat stone. The area was flanked on one side by an outcropping of jagged rock that, thankfully, they had missed striking against by mere inches.

The world seemed suddenly to still.

Veronica, her body shockingly splayed atop her rescuer's, did not dare to move—not because she'd suffered any injury during their fall, but because she feared
he
might have been harmed in some way—or worse—snapped his neck due to how well he'd cushioned her.

Carefully, she lifted her head, her gaze skating over his handsome, bearded face.

His eyes were closed and he seemed frightfully still, all of which compounded the ripples of raw fear swirling through her.

"Sir?" she whispered. "Can—can you hear me?"

Nothing. No answer.

"Sir?"

At last he stirred.

"Aye, "he finally said, his voice just a hoarse whisper, as though it had long been unused. "I hear you. Heaven and angels and all things blessed
... I hear you."

Veronica thought his reply peculiar, but hadn't a moment longer to think more on it than that, for he lifted his lashes, revealing fully his obsidian-eyed gaze.

At such close proximity the sight of those darkling eyes unsettled her. There was mystery in their deep depths, causing her once again to wonder at the danger he might represent. He lifted his right hand, startling Veronica further.

Primed by years of knowing the sting of her father's swift palm, Veronica reacted like an automaton, turning her face slightly to the side and steeling herself for the inevitable blow.

It never came.

"Ah... no," the man murmured. "I mean not to hurt you. Had you thought that?"

Veronica did not move or speak, though her eyes remained fastened on his.

"Ah," he said again, his gaze narrowing, "'tis clear you thought just that."

He gave a click of his tongue and then, with a feathery touch, traced the pad of his thumb across her chin.

Veronica, unaccustomed to such gentleness, drew in a small, sharp breath.

"You've the look of a startled deer," he said. "Is it the memory of the dogs? Though the animals were frightful, you can rest easy, for they remain on the other side of the wall. You are not hurt, are you? No broken bones?"

Veronica shook her head, amazed at the calming effect the sound of his voice was having on her.

"Say something," he urged. "Assure me I am not dreaming this moment... did not conjure your voice a moment ago."

"You—you are not dreaming, sir. Not by far."

As she spoke, the stranger closed his eyes, breathing in slowly and deeply. When he opened his eyes again there was a surprising hint of wetness glistening in them.

"Do you know," he whispered hoarsely, "your unexpected presence here has been both my hope and need answered?"

The man gently slid his callused hand to the back of her neck, beneath her curtain of hair, which had come loose of its pins during their tumble. Then he quietly drew her mouth to his. He paused a second, as if to test whether or not she would slap him for his boldness.

She did not. Could not. And though he offered her every opportunity to pull away, Veronica found she could do no less than allow the moment to continue.

In the next instant, she felt the man's mouth connect with hers, the experience proving beyond anything she'd ever known or even thought to imagine.

He tasted of the blazing sunset she'd just witnessed and of what surely could only be described as desire. His lips were surprisingly soft, his close-cropped beard only slightly rough against her skin.

Veronica's eyes drifted half shut. Her cloud of dark hair cascaded down, curtaining their faces from the world and deepening the intimacy of their meeting mouths.

Veronica had not been kissed until now. She had never allowed any man to be so close to her as to take such a liberty.

But instead of feeling afraid or even violated, she felt curiously warm inside.

Was
this
why Lily continually danced off into the darkest corners of London's ballrooms with rake after rake, no matter how shabbily they treated her afterward? Veronica wondered.

And could it be because of kisses like this that her dear friend Pamela was so willing to cast caution to the wind where the dubious Lord Rathbone was concerned?

That
must
be the sum of it all, Veronica deduced, amazed at the swirling of longing stirring to life in the deepest parts of her body.

The stranger, too, seemed overtaken by heated yearnings, for his kiss intensified and suddenly his tongue was doing the most pleasurable things at the bow of Veronica's lips. So much so that she longed to disappear into him, to be connected to him.

Her wish was granted in the next instant as he slid his tongue slowly into her mouth, tasting of her sweetness with a soft exploration.

A slight moan escaped Veronica before she could snatch it back. Oh, but she must be in shock—doubtless that was the reason for her lapse in sound judgment! What other explanation could there be?

Her reckless Venus Mission, the wild beasts, the fall, her coachman's gunfire—all had obviously succeeded in overwhelming her and numbing her good sense. Surely she was not sprawled atop some dangerous stranger, their hearts thudding one against the other, their lips melding together as intimately as though they were... were
lovers.

The volleying of yet another report from Shelton's blunderbuss rent the air.

Not even a bucket of icy cold water tossed over her rescuer and her could have as effectively doused their flaring passions as precisely as the sound of that shot echoing about.

In one swift motion, the stranger rolled them both to the left, neatly tucking Veronica's body beneath his own and securing them under the shielding outlip of stone they'd been fortunate not to strike against as they'd slid down the slope.

There could be heard much commotion on the other side of the wall as her coachman, shouting to someone, gave instructions to fan out and begin a search of the abbey.

Veronica held perfectly still, fighting down a shiver of fear. What would happen when her father's fierce employee discovered his employer's daughter in a stranger's arms—and with her lips swollen from the man's recent kisses, no less!

The earl would bring the house down around her ears. He would strike her a blow unlike any she'd ever known in her youth.

Veronica's cheeks flamed. If the stranger even considered that he'd compromised her, he made no show of it. He seemed only at the moment to be concerned with the report of Shelton's gun and that her coachman was now searching the abbey in earnest.

"Damn,"
he muttered in frustration, clearly thinking aloud and not intending for her to hear.
"I have been found out."

A new sensation of trepidation washed through Veronica. Gad, with what train of his had she involved herself?

"What—what do you mean you have been 'found out?'" Veronica dared to ask.

The stranger hitched himself up on his elbows. He stared down at her, his shadowed gaze revealing nothing.

"Of a sudden, it seems Fountains knows more traffic than even New Bond Street," he said, his tone deadly serious and his voice low. "Tell me, are they friends of yours?"

Veronica did not have a chance to reply, for Shelton called out her name. "My lady! Lady Veronica, can you hear me?"

Veronica's entire body jerked spasmodically at the booming voice of her father's most trusted henchman.

Her rescuer noted that reaction, and his black brows drew together in a frown. Suspicion clouding his features, he lowered his face to hers until his mouth was close to the shell of her left ear. "Tell me,
Lady Veronica,
did you lead your man here? Did you intend for him to find me, weapon loaded and at the ready?"

"No.
Of course not!" she replied in a fast whisper. "How could I? I—I did not expect to find anyone in this desolate place."

"But you did expect to find
something,
"he noted.

There was more commotion beyond the wall, saving Veronica from an explanation. Both she and her rescuer fell silent as they heard Shelton call out to his companion. "Drubbs, take your lamp and search the eastern end. She might have headed in that direction to escape the dogs. I know she was here, for that is her hat that's been trampled into the ground."