A Highwayman's Honor: (A Highland Highwayman Novella #1) (5 page)

“You can ask me later.”

His lips touched hers and she sank into him. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her close. His heart thundered in his chest. Her lips were sweet, soft. She yielded to him, following his lead with an eagerness that made his head swim. This woman was a dream. A lovely, intoxicating dream from which he never wanted to wake. She moaned, a soft sound that had him threading his fingers through her hair and nipping at her lip. She opened for him and he delved inside.

His body burned for her touch. She pressed herself closer, wrapping her arms about his neck. She plunged her fingers into his hair and held on tight, which only spurred him on. But when she touched the bottom of the mask, he grabbed her hand and pulled away from her, shaking his head.

“No,” he said, his voice gruff.

“Why?” she asked, her voice hardly more than a whisper. “Haven’t I proven that I can be trusted? That I’ll protect you? And your secret?”

The hurt in her voice cut him deep. But there was no help for it. “This is for your protection,” he said. “You can’t be made to tell what you do not know.”

Elizabet searched his eyes and finally nodded. “All right.” She sighed and dropped her hand. “As you wish.”

He reached up to cup her cheek. “What I wish is of no consequence. It’s just how things must be.”

She nodded, swallowing as though a lump had formed in her throat. Her eyes looked suspiciously moist and he regretted having caused her pain. But it would save her greater pain later on.

“Come, lie down,” he said. “It’s been a long night. And we’ll have to leave at sunrise.”

“What? Where are we going?”

He gently pushed her down on the bed and dragged the coverlets over her. “It’s far past the time I took you back.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but he shook his head. “I’ve enjoyed our time together. Far more than I expected. But you have to go back. You don’t belong in my world.”

She flinched at that and he tried again. “The soldiers might be returning. You’ve shot one of them. Even if you didn’t kill him, that isn’t something they can allow.”

“And if they return for me, that means my presence is now a danger to you.”

“Yes. I suppose it is. But more importantly, you are in danger. I would fight for you, my lady, until my dying breath. But even I cannot win against so many.”

He caressed her cheek and leaned down to gently kiss her. “Get some rest. I’ll watch over you tonight.”

She looked like she’d protest. He understood completely. He’d rather spend their last moments together finishing what they’d started. But that couldn’t happen. John moved off the bed and sat in the chair by the fire, turning the clothes drying there. He noticed her chemise swimming in the cauldron and fished it out, laying it out to dry with his clothing. Elizabet rolled to her side and watched him until her eyes began to close.

John remained awake for hours, just watching her. He didn’t want to sleep, but they were as secure as he could make them and sleep dragged at him. But instead of retreating to the pallet on the floor where he’d been sleeping each night, he climbed into the bed and lay next to her. His arms wrapped around her from behind and pulled her close to his chest. He pressed a soft kiss to her head and she settled back against him. He still ached for her touch. Still longed to kiss the lips that were pleasantly swollen with his kisses.

Perhaps someday. If things were different. Only he wouldn’t pull away when she touched his mask. He’d let her remove it. And then he’d finished what they’d started.

Chapter Five

Elizabet watched Jack ride off with a sinking heart. Her real life beckoned. One that included familial obligations, rules, and etiquette. Most definitely no romantic highwaymen who could set her blood to fire with a mere brush of his lips. Jack would only live in her fantasies now. Perhaps she should take to riding around in carriages full of treasure and see if she could instigate another meeting. Though she’d probably only succeed in encountering an outlaw with a much smaller sense of honor and gallantry. Jack was a breed unto himself. Any other highwayman she might meet would mean only danger or death for her.

Jack had left her in the dark of night near the main road within sight of a respectable inn. He’d given her more than enough money to hire a carriage and keep the innkeeper from asking too many questions. He’d promised he’d watch her from the tree line until she was safely inside, protecting her still. But he of course couldn’t accompany her all the way to her home. Or risk being seen at all.

Arriving home in the wee hours of the morning had garnered the expected reaction. The sleepy butler had taken one look at her and sent a squealing maid running for her mother. And then all hell had quietly broken loose.

Elizabet knew her parents wouldn’t be happy about what had happened but she’d assumed, hoped, that their anger would be aimed at the man who’d taken her. Not that she wanted Jack in trouble, but he wasn’t there and knew how to keep himself out of trouble. She probably should have known better. Her mother did at least show some concern over her state. But once the doctor that her mother had insisted on sending for confirmed that Elizabet was all right and her wound had healed rather nicely, her mother’s concern focused on other things. Had anyone seen her getting out of a strange carriage? In the dead of night? Unaccompanied?

Pointing out that no one was likely to have seen her as they were probably in bed sleeping did not improve matters. Mother was furious.

“We must keep Sir Robert from discovering anything about this…distasteful business.”

“I’ve been gone for over a week. Where does he think I’ve been?”

“We’ve put it around that you’ve been ill.”

Elizabet eyes widened with surprise and hurt. “You didn’t tell the authorities? You had no one looking for me?” The small fissure in her heart that had her mother’s name on it cracked open wider. “Didn’t you care at all?”

Her mother’s eyes widened. “Of course we cared. We were trying to protect your reputation! What do you think would become of you if it was known you’ve spent the last week God knows where with a man not your husband? And a notorious highwayman at that! You’d be ruined. We assumed there would be a ransom demand for you eventually. ”

“And if no ransom demand had come?”

Lady Harding’s lips pursed. Then the fight seemed to drain out of her. “I don’t know. I…your father…” She walked over and slumped to the sofa, leaning back against the cushions with a tired sigh.

“Come sit by me,” she said, patting the cushion next to her.

Elizabet hesitated, not sure if she trusted this calmer version of her mother. She went to the sofa and perched on the edge. Lady Harding sat up and took her hands.

“My dear child. I know you think I’m some sort of terrible monster, but I only have your best interests at heart. You’re home. Safe. Unharmed and unspoiled by the grace of God.”

Elizabet opened her mouth to argue that point but thought better of it. Her shoulder still ached. But she didn’t think her mother would appreciate being corrected.

Lady Harding continued. “Sir Robert is a good man with a good family name and connections, beautiful homes, and enough money to keep you extremely comfortable for the rest of your days. There is not a girl around who wouldn’t be thrilled to be his wife. I love you too much to risk all of that. Whether it was your doing or not, what happened to you could ruin any chances of your marriage. Sir Robert might be willing to take you without a dowry, but not if there is scandal attached to your name. All anyone must know is that you were ill.”

Elizabet weighed her words carefully. She knew her mother had her future in mind. Elizabet’s heart would never pound in her chest when Sir Robert was near. She wouldn’t dream of him night after night, or find herself staring off into space as she relived every moment of their time together. But he would ensure her comfort, if not her happiness. It was more than many women got.

Her mother was waiting for a response. “I understand, Mother. I know I’m lucky to have Sir Robert. I won’t jeopardize our agreement.”

“Good. Now, hurry up to bed.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“Elizabet.”

She turned around and glanced back at her mother.

“I am glad you are home.”

Elizabet smiled, warmth spreading through her at her mother’s words despite the ache in her heart left by her highwayman. “I am too.”

* * *

Elizabet twitched her fan open, sending a faint breeze across her heated face. How she could be could be so thrilled and excited and yet so full of despair all at the same time bemused her. A ball at the palace of Whitehall in London with the merry court of King Charles II was a sight to behold. The fact that it was most likely the last ball she’d attend made the experience bittersweet. Her decrepit but extremely wealthy betrothed, Sir Robert Whitely, was not one for merriment. Or so she’d been told. In fact he rarely left his country estate, preferring the quiet life far from the hustle and bustle of the court. Though at his age that was probably to be expected.

The music swelled and she watched the swish of the women’s skirts as they danced. She longed to be back on the dance floor herself, but any more exertion and she might make a complete disgrace of herself. For a moment she wished she hadn’t had her maid lace her up quite so tight. But Mother had wanted her looking her best. For him. The man she’d soon be tied to for the rest of her life. Though she doubted the old curmudgeon could even see her, so the effort seemed wasted.

Then again, she was free to enjoy herself for the moment as he’d failed to make an appearance. And at least one man seemed to appreciate the efforts which had gone into her dress for the evening. Their eyes met for the dozenth time and she hid a coy smile behind her fan. She’d seen him around court before and had always noticed him. It would be difficult not to. The  man exuded a vitality that seemed to draw women to him like bees to a banquet. She’d never asked about him though, not wanting to be just another of his multitude of admirers. But now…something about him seemed so familiar.

“Alice,” she said, nudging her friend in the ribs.

Lady Alice Chivers, bell of nearly every ball they’d attended since they were old enough to lace up their first gowns, turned to her. Elizabet held her fan high enough to hide her mouth as she spoke.

“Who is that man over there? The large one who fills out those breeches so well.”

Alice looked with interest in the direction Elizabet indicated. “Ah yes. I see what you mean. That satin is no match for the strapping body it’s encasing, is it?” she asked with a giggle.

“Shh,” Elizabet warned, her eyes darting about for signs of her mother.

“Oh, have a little fun, Bess. You’ll have little enough of it once you’re wed, that’s for certain.”

Elizabet sighed. “That’s true enough.”

“Poor Bess.” Alice wrapped her arm around Elizabet’s waist and hugged her, her perfect brunette ringlets tickling Elizabet’s face. “You must be optimistic. Surely he can’t live for too much longer. And then you’ll be a rich widow, free to do whatever you please.”

“Alice!” Elizabet said, though she couldn’t hold back her laugh.

“Oh, you know you’ve thought it. And if you are too miserable in the meantime, perhaps a discreet dalliance with a sinfully handsome gentleman will cheer you.”

Alice nodded in the direction of the man Elizabet had indicated. “He certainly seems taken with you. I wouldn’t mind a bit of a distraction with him myself.”

Elizabet gaped at her and Alice winked. “That is Lord John Ramsay. Devilishly handsome, richer than Croesus with several sizable holdings including some godforsaken pile of rock in Scotland he inherited from his mother. Lucky for us, he prefers his English roots and stays mainly with the court. Very good friends with the king though not one to flaunt it. Too bad your parents couldn’t have made you a match with him.”

Elizabet sighed. “Like most eligible men in court, he’d have expected a decent dowry. Sir Robert was the only man of any substance willing to take me without one. He’s gained enough wealth from his previous three wives that he’s not too concerned with accumulating more. What he still hasn’t managed to get is a son. The only thing he’s interested in is a new wife young enough to get an heir on and pretty enough to make the deed enjoyable. At least according to my father.”

“Your father told you that?” Alice asked, horrified.

Elizabet nodded and Alice’s eyes flashed with fury. But before she could respond again, Lord Ramsay stood before them. He politely greeted Alice and then turned his full attention upon Elizabet. She gazed up the long, muscular length of him, her eyes finally meeting his. He bowed his head, his gaze hidden from her for a moment.

He was dressed as most of the men at court were. Silk hose and knee breeches covered legs that looked as strong as tree trunks. His waistcoat, shirt, and elaborate coat were of the finest material, embroidered and embellished until they gleamed under the light of the chandeliers. His curled wig lay over his shoulders, but there was no hint of powder or rouge on his face. Against fashion, maybe. But it suited him. Even in his finery he still managed to look rugged. Dangerous.

She blinked, her cheeks reddening. That seemed an odd word to attach to him. Perhaps it was something in the depths of those deep brown eyes that hinted at a power barely restrained. She fanned her face again, trying to rid herself of such fanciful thoughts. She wished she could see him without the wig. See the true color of his hair.

He turned that piercing gaze of his to Alice and bowed politely, tipping his hat. “Good evening, Lady Alice. I trust you are well.”

Alice curtsied, snapping open her fan with a practiced flick of her wrist. “I am indeed, my lord. Allow me to present a dear friend of mine, Miss Elizabet Harding, daughter of Lord Thomas Harding.”

He focused his attention back on Elizabet. She gave him a shallow curtsy, not sure her knees would hold her if she tried anything deeper.

“Good evening, my lady,” he said, his cultured voice flowing through her like molten gold.

He took her hand, bringing it to his lips to press a lingering kiss to its back. His thumb rubbed across her knuckles. Each stroke sent tiny embers swirling through her veins, igniting a heat inside her she’d only known before with one man.

Alice grinned and turned to speak to another gentleman at her side, her presence apparently no longer necessary now that she’d satisfied custom and acquainted them with each other.

“May I say how beautiful you look this evening, Miss Harding?”

She froze, the echo of a deep, Scottish brogue ringing through her ears. The man before her betrayed only the faintest accent. She might not even have noticed it if she hadn’t been replaying the encounter with the enthralling highwayman over and over in her mind since it had happened. She hadn’t been able to forget him. Damn him. She’d never forget that voice, no matter how he tried to conceal it. It haunted her dreams, chased her every waking moment. Turned her into a fanciful, scatter-brained chit who wanted nothing more than to hear her name on those honeyed lips again.

And now she had. She was sure of it. The way he said it, with the same inflection, as if he were savoring every syllable on his tongue. It was
him
.

She met his gaze again. Those eyes. They were the same eyes that had stared at her from behind a worn leather mask. Deep, dark pools of dangerous secrets that tempted her to all manner of folly.

She froze, her body tightening, seeing those eyes behind a mask, not framed by a long, curled wig and bejeweled linens. An emotion she couldn’t name flashed across his features, so quickly she might have imagined it. One thing was certain though. She recognized him. And he knew it.

Other than that fleeting look, however, he showed no indication that they’d ever even spoken before let alone touched. Kissed. Slept in each other’s arms. He gazed down at her and spouted off some more nonsense in that slightly accented and oh-so-deep voice of his. He took her hand, giving it another light kiss. Elizabet squeezed her hand tighter before she could stop herself.

“I was just going to take a stroll around the gardens. Would you care to join me?” he asked, his eyes daring her to accept.

Two could play his game. “We’ve only just met, my lord. I’m not certain my mother would approve.”

“What objection could she make? The proper introduction has been made. And I’m merely asking for a turn around the gardens that I’m certain are well-populated as it’s so warm in here.”

She fanned herself a little harder, completely agreeing with him on that point.

“Come,” he coaxed. “We can even stay within sight of the terrace if strolling alone with me frightens you.”

Her lips tightened. “I am not afraid of you, my lord. I simply don’t make it a habit to go traipsing off with every gentleman who asks. I’m a bit more discerning than that.”