Her Mad Baron (7 page)

He lay on her panting for a moment then pulled over to the side, dragging her with him. He blotted at the stuff on her stomach with the sheet, but she stopped him, wanting to feel the essence. She sniffed and tasted it, too, a satisfying earthy substance.

He chuckled. “I could give you more.”

“Truly?”

“Not this moment.” He hitched himself up on an elbow. They lay face to face, and he slid his arm over her waist. “But aren’t you sated?”

“I don’t know. I–I didn’t know females could be, well...thank you.” She inched closer to him.

He pressed a kiss to her mouth. “We should rest.” He sounded doubtful, and his hand on her back began drawing circles on her skin.

She giggled. “I should think it would give them a start to open the door and find you on top of me, um...”

He snorted.

Thinking of the guards brought her entirely back to where they lay. His prison. She had completely forgotten everything but him, his body with hers.

“We must stop. We need to get out of here.” She heaved a sigh, a strange sorrow filling her lungs, slipped from his arms and climbed out of bed, stumbling slightly.

“I want to lie with you naked,” she said as she felt around the floor. “But not in this place. Not here. That means not anywhere.”

Never again. She yanked on the clothes, grumbling under her breath about the ridiculous outfit and how impossible it was to dress in the dark when the room whirled and tilted.

She climbed up next to him again and tucked her arm around him.

With another sigh, this one not as filled with sorrow, she pushed close and ignored the strange rocking of the bed and the room.

Out. Out. She chanted the word silently with each imaginary tilt of the room. She would get out of this room. Out. And run away as fast and far as she could.

Nathaniel. That was her last thought, and though her determination didn’t lessen, it became tangled with the sorrow and a frisson of embarrassment. Loss, too. No more Nathaniel. One night escaping her life into his prison. More than enough.

The orange glow came through her eyelids, but when Florrie opened her eyes, nothing was on fire. The sun was coming up. Someone was banging on the door. She knew where she was almost as soon as she saw the man who held her.

She felt him start awake and stare into her face. His brow furrowed for a moment then his eyes widened.

“Into the box,” he breathed.

“No.” She stood and hefted the length of wood that lay by the bed. “I’m not eating or drinking any more poison.”

“Yer lordship?” a voice shouted. “Wake up now. I guess you’re sleeping in today?”

It wasn’t Grub. Another man, with a higher pitched voice.

Holding the wood like a club, she leaned over for her shoes then walked silently to stand behind the door. She rested the wood on her shoulder.

The man from the hall spoke again. “I’m gonna open up, but I’m telling you I have a gun, so don’t try any of your nonsen—”

“Wait,” Nathaniel shouted. “Just wait. I was asleep. I’ll put on the blasted chain.”

He pointed to the box and glared at Florrie in such a lordly manner she felt the ridiculous urge to laugh. He looked so indignant.

She shook her head and raised the awkward plank.

He mouthed words that might have been “I’ll kill you myself if you get hurt.”

For a long second, he closed his eyes.

“Listen, your lordship—”

“I’m nearly done.” Nathaniel locked the band around his wrist then tossed the key toward the door, away from where she stood. “Key’s by the door,” he shouted.

The door opened inward slowly.

“Good morning, Dobson,” Nathaniel said. “Slept well, I trust?”

“You act like that, I suspect you didn’t drink up like Mr. G said you ought to.” A figure slouched through the door.

For a long, horrible moment, Florrie wondered why he stopped and why he held the gun at the ready—had he heard her? Then she realized he was looking at the locks on Nathaniel’s wrist and on the bed. Nathaniel must have tried to trick them before.

At last the man bent for the key. He straightened, put the key in his pocket and walked toward the table, his back to Florrie. He pointed at the tray. “Not a drop, just as I thought. That’s gonna annoy Mr. G—”

Florrie, who’d played cricket with her father and brother, had a good swing. Not quite the form she’d learned, but she brought the overly heavy bat up and swung with good follow through. The man Dobson landed without a groan.

She rummaged in his pocket, tossed Nathaniel the key and grabbed the gun from the unconscious man’s hand.

Nathaniel was standing next to her. “My God, you are good.” He seized her for a quick kiss.

She rubbed her fingers over her tingling mouth. “Do you think anyone else is out there?”

“Not yet, but they will be soon.” He went to the open door and returned with the tray of food and tea, which he put on the table. “One of the females will come by to collect this.”

He dumped all the dinner’s leftovers into the bowls, put the dinner’s empty plates and cups on the tray and thrust it out the door. “This should put them off for a while.”

For once the promise of danger didn’t excite her. She wanted to flee immediately, but helped him drag Dobson to the bed and shackle him there. Nathaniel roughly wrapped the bottom sheet around him to hold his arms in place. The way Nathaniel shoved much of the pillow into the man’s mouth made her wince, but she didn’t protest.

She handed him the gun. “I don’t know how to work this thing.”

He held it and examined it casually, a man who knew guns. “Huh. Not loaded. I’ll keep it. Maybe I can use it as some sort of evidence.”

He wrapped the sheet over himself again, went to the door and looked out. “The servant’s stairs,” he whispered. “We’ll go that way.”

“Thank goodness. I’m still far too dizzy to climb down.”

He grimaced then said, “I wish I could watch you.”

With silent footsteps they made their way along the hall and went down the narrow steps.

No one saw and, just like that, they were free.

He was barefoot, she wore her shoes, and they slipped from the manor and fled. Despite his weeks of captivity and unprotected feet, he ran more swiftly than she did. He gripped her hand and pulled her along.

When they’d run far enough among the trees to be invisible from the house, she leaned over and panted. “How...how are you able to run so well?”

“I did strengthening exercises when I could.”

She rubbed her hands over her face and gave a sobbing laugh. “You are amazing to survive as well as you have. One night in that place and I was ready to do anything to get out.”

“Believe me, sweet Florrie. I was ready to do anything, too. I tried everything. But it’s over now. Done. Come on.” He touched her arm. “We’ll go to the vicar’s house. He knows me—he tutored me one summer term.”

“He doesn’t know me,” she said.

Nathaniel went very still. “Yes, of course. Your strange clothes. Your reputation.”

She gestured at his toga and the gun he clutched. “Yours, too.”

“Hang that. But...I understand. You return to your brother. You must tell him you’re safe. Florrie, I’ll come with you, shall I? Make certain that you reach him safely.”

She went to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I have to go by myself. I can’t face the questions he’ll ask as it is. And if he saw you.” She wasn’t sure what Duncan would do, but it wouldn’t bode well for Nathaniel. “No. I can’t imagine what the people at that inn would say. And you must find real help.”

He dragged her face up to his and pressed a wild kiss to her mouth. “Florrie, what if you are carrying a baby? I didn’t spend inside your body, but it might still happen.”

She gaped at him. “Oh.”

“I will come find you once this is done.” He sounded grimly determined.

“No.” The hysteria rose to her throat again. She wanted to get away as fast as she could, escape before she showed him the weakness and tears rising. “I will send word if there’s a, um, problem. Go. Run for help and I’ll run in the opposite direction.”

He still held her fast. “Do you mean you wish you never knew me? Is that what you want to have happen?”

“Oh, not you. Nathaniel. But I can face nothing more at the moment.” She shuddered remembering the chickens with the cold, blood-filled eyes. And her own recklessness was to blame for it all. “My head is still so dizzy I can barely walk, but I want to run until I collapse. And never have another adventure again. And never face what a fool I’ve been.”

He gave a single grim-faced nod. Then he gave her another soft kiss on the mouth, his full lips brushing hers, but not long enough, or perhaps too long, because the ache started.

He turned away. She watched him run, silent and fleet even without shoes, only stumbling once. Wrapped in the sheet, he should have looked ridiculous, but he was magnificent. He didn’t look back.

Too exhausted to run, she walked to the edge of the moor beyond the woods. The shoes were ruined, but she’d never use them again anyway.

Duncan must have been watching from the inn window for he ran out with her cloak. He wrapped her in it to hide the strange climbing clothes and pulled her up to her bedchamber.

“Where have you been?” he growled.

“I’ll speak to you later, Duncan. I want to wash and change.” She pushed him, protesting, from the room.

After she used the pitcher of tepid water and washstand in the room, and changed into a decent dress, she lay down on the bed and waited for Duncan, who returned and started with the questions at once.

“Why didn’t you come out? I’ve been worried sick. Why didn’t you find a way to send word, at least?”

She gave the ghost of a laugh. “Why didn’t you look for me?”

He paced the room. “Don’t you remember our rules? I wasn’t to bang on the doors unless twenty-four hours had passed, we said. But I never in a million years expected we’d have to live with that. I tell you it’s horrible waiting and not knowing what to do.”

“I was in there for less than twenty-four hours?” she said hollowly and closed her eyes. The bed swayed, but less violently.

Duncan’s footsteps stopped. “Yes, and where exactly were you?”

She shook her head. The motion proved a bad idea, and she gave a little moan.

“Tell me,” he demanded. His pacing started up again.

“Go away, Duncan, do. I need rest.”

“You do look rotten, poor girl. All right. I’ll be back.”

Florrie barely noticed when he left the room at last.

She started awake again when Duncan slammed open the door. Judging by the light streaming in the window, she must have slept for hours.

She expected more cross-examination, but instead he was bursting with news. “Do you know what? The old baron has died, and it’s not clear when. The new one has been ill, too.” He slammed the door shut. “Very strange circumstances, but no one seems to know what went on. I do wish we had time to poke around here and find out.”

She winced at the bang of the door and wondered if the top of her head would fly off. “Heavens. You’re as good as a reporter. To think you found all this out when I was the one trapped in the baron’s manor.”

“Yes, speaking of which, when will you tell me what happened to you there?”

“I got stuck in a room.”

“Why do you look like death warmed over?”

“I was scared and had no food or drink.”

“That’s all?”

She ignored the question. Duncan wasn’t the most observant of men, but perhaps he could see the change in her. Would one be able to sense the loss of virginity in a near relation? Did her face look older or her skin glow with the change?

“Oh no, I forgot to pick up my rope,” she said. She climbed out of the bed and found her wrap.

Duncan eyed her censoriously. “And you don’t have the dagger, do you?”

She shook her head. “Our first failed attempt, but it’s still the last time I’ll do that. Sorry, Duncan.”

He grumbled under his breath then said, “You should eat before the food gets cold.”

For the first time she noticed the table bore a tray of simple inn fare: stew, some slices of beef and a bowl of stewed peaches. Almost the same menu as her last horrible meal.

He watched, so she lifted the teacup and sipped. A moment later she gulped down the entire cup of the best tea she’d ever tasted. It washed away the bitter taste of metal in her throat. Food turned out to be an excellent idea. She cut into the beef.

“Dear me,” he said. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’d spent the night indulging in drink.”

“Nonsense.” She finished the rest of the stew and lay back down.

“Are you going to tell me what happened to you?” he asked again.

“Later. Just know I’m done with any more adventure.”

He laughed. “You are a like a child on a see-saw. First you want thrilling exploits, then when you’re frightened, you never want to venture out again. You go too far in each direction.”