Lovers Forever (11 page)

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Authors: Shirlee Busbee

BOOK: Lovers Forever
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Tess was so furious that she could hardly think; the urge to slap and claw at the mocking face was uppermost in her mind. She took a deep breath. Holding on to her temper, barely, she managed to say quietly enough, “I told you—I don't know. My memory only begins with yesterday afternoon, when I awoke under that blasted oak tree!”
His expression didn't change, and Tess knew with a sinking heart that he didn't believe her. Fighting an urge to stamp her feet and throw a tantrum, she sought for some way to convince him of the truth. Something occurred to her, and her eyes narrowed. Almost triumphantly she demanded, “If this is all a plot, how did I know you would be here? How could my family have possibly known you were going to stop here for the night? Tell me that, you rabbit-brained jackass!”
Unfazed by her insult, he replied levelly, “I'll grant you that there was some luck and some coincidence, the storm being the luck and the expected arrival of Lucy Jones being the coincidence, but while my departure from London was not planned, it would have been simple enough to have been found out shortly before I left—I made no secret of it when I returned home from Lady Grover's ball. Servants gossip, and to anyone interested in my movements, my sudden departure wouldn't have been hard to discover.” He took another sip of his coffee, then continued dryly, “Perhaps a footman in your employ has been seeing one of the maids in my employ. It's possible they saw each other before I left London and that it was mentioned that the master was leaving for Kent.” He shot her a hard look. “Was that when this nasty little scenario was plotted?”
“I don't know,” Tess said tightly, her hands clenched at her sides. “I wasn't there!”
“Oh, that's right, I forgot, you lost your memory,” he drawled with obvious disdain. “As I said earlier, how convenient for you.”
“Damn you! It's the truth! And even if everything you say could have happened, how could we have known you'd stop
here
or that there'd be a storm?”
He shrugged. “As I said, you've had some luck. What precisely the original plan was, I have no idea, but I'm quite certain that once the storm began in earnest, it wouldn't have taken a genius to figure out that it would be extremely difficult and uncomfortable for me to make it to Sherbourne Court and that I would be stopping for the night somewhere along the way. You just had to guess which tavern I would choose, and since there are not many along this stretch of road, the Black Pig would be the obvious choice.” He flashed her a level glance. “As I said, luck paid an enormous part—someone guessed right, and you managed to be here and in place ahead of me.” His voice hardened. “According to Mrs. Darley, you didn't arrive too much before I did.” He gave a bitter laugh. “And I'll wager you felt quite smug when I walked in—after all, I could have decided not to stop and then all your efforts would have been for naught. But you gambled and the gamble paid off—in aces, I would say!”
“You're absolutely mad,” Tess ground out, so furious she could hardly speak.
“And you're very stupid if you think I'm going to be taken in by that absurd tale of yours! I have been, over the months since I inherited my brother's title, the object of too many matchmaking schemes to fall for this one. Now then, are you going to tell me your name or not?”
Her chin lifted rebelliously, “
Not
!” she said, her eyes nearly black with anger.
Nicolas shrugged. “Very well, it makes little difference to me—keep your secrets! Now if you will excuse me, I must be on my way.”
He rose to his feet, walked over to the table, and set down his empty cup. Seeming oblivious of Tess's presence, he found his jacket and, after putting it on, opened the door and shouted once more for Lovejoy. Upon Lovejoy's immediate entrance into the room, Nicolas asked him, “Are the horses and rig ready?” At Lovejoy's nod, he continued, “Good! If you'll pack up my belongings, we can be on the road in five minutes.”
Tess had watched him in open perplexity, unable to believe that he was simply going to leave things as they were and calmly drive away from the tavern . . . and her. There was an uncomfortable feeling in the middle of her chest, and she was conscious of a sudden desire to burst into tears. She felt abandoned and betrayed, though she had no real reason to feel either. How can he leave me this way? she wondered sickly. Didn't last night, don't
I
, mean anything to him? Apparently not, she conceded miserably as Lovejoy quickly gathered up the earl's few things and placed them neatly in a black leather valise. Nicolas, his handsome face impassive, stood negligently by the door, his arms folded across his chest, utterly ignoring her.
If Tess had thought she had been frightened yesterday when she had awakened with no memory, it was nothing compared to the idea of the earl leaving the Black Pig and riding out of her life without so much as a backward look. She was filled with rage and not a little terror. The knowledge that Lucy Jones had arrived and been accepted by the Darleys made it obvious that they weren't going to look very kindly on
her
. Glumly she reminded herself that the Black Pig had been meant as a temporary refuge anyway, but things had happened so swiftly that she wasn't ready to venture immediately out on her own. The unpleasant notion that she was running away from someone, that she was in some sort of danger, hadn't lessened, and her spirit quailed at the prospect before her.
Tess bit her lip. Her situation was dreadful. She was wearing torn and borrowed clothing; she had just spent the night with a man she didn't know and had lost her virginity; she still didn't know who she was; she still had no money, and it looked as though once the earl drove away, she would be thrown out onto the road—if she was lucky, at least in her own clothes! She was suddenly more frightened than she had ever been since this whole horrible nightmare had begun.
Unaware of the terror lurking in her wide eyes, she glanced at Nicolas, determined not to beg for his help. Somehow she was going to find a way out of her appalling situation, and if she had to do it alone . . . Her shoulders squared and her chin lifted. She'd find a way, somehow!
Having finished his task, Lovejoy straightened and, clasping the valise, laid the earl's many-caped greatcoat across the bed. “Will that be all, sir?”
Nicolas nodded curtly, saying as Lovejoy reached the door, “I'll be down in just a few minutes. You've taken care of everything?”
“Yes, just as you ordered.”
The room was very quiet after Lovejoy departed, only the occasional hiss and pop of the fire breaking the silence. Moodily Nicolas stared across the room at Tess's slender figure in the worn pink gown. What the hell did he do now?
He cocked an eyebrow and murmured, “Well? What's your answer?”
Tess gaped at him. “M-m-my answer? I'm afraid I don't understand.”
Forcing himself not to respond to the desolate expression on her lovely face, he said crisply, “My offer. It still stands. Are you coming or not?”
Tess swallowed painfully. It was a terrible choice, but one she had to make. Her lips thinned as she said tightly, “If you mean am I willing to become your mistress, the answer is still no!”
His arms dropped, and he strolled over toward her, the expression on his face hard to define. Stopping just inches from her, he reached out and ran one finger lightly down her cheek. “Oh? And why not? What is it about my offer that you find offensive? I can be a very generous man—you'd have a house, servants, silks, and jewels, and if last night was anything to go by, you certainly found no fault with either my person or my lovemaking—so why do you hesitate now?” His black eyes hardened. “I would be the first to admit that a certain amount of reluctance is charming, but I wouldn't make me wait too long, sweetheart—and if you are thinking that an offer of another sort will be forthcoming if you withhold your favors—you delude yourself. I may be searching for a bride, but I will not be
forced
into taking one—especially one who has tricked me as you have!”
Tess knocked aside his hand and looked away. “I didn't ‘trick' you, and I never expected you to marry me,” she said softly. “I don't know what I expected....” The memory of the certainty that she knew him, that she could trust him, rolled over her, and she blinked rapidly, but she still couldn't stop one tiny tear from sliding down the side of her face.
That tear was Nicolas's undoing. Cursing under his breath, he dragged her into his arms and kissed her angrily. “Damn you!” he swore when he finally lifted his punishing mouth from hers. “You're coming with me whether you like it or not! I'm not leaving you behind, and as for the other—we'll settle that question later and in surroundings far more comfortable than these!”
He gave her no chance to argue, merely wrapped his greatcoat around her and swung her up in his arms. Tess still retained enough of her senses to struggle against the arms that held her, but one part of her was almost relieved to have the decision taken out of her hands. Heedless of anyone who might be watching, Nicolas bounded down the stairs and strode purposefully through the small hall and out of the tavern into the tepid October sunshine.
Tess's efforts to free herself had been futile. He was too strong for her, and her limbs had been tangled and trapped by the heavy folds of the greatcoat, hampering her ability to escape. All too soon she found herself tossed like a bag of oats onto the seat of a handsomely built curricle, a pair of equally handsome and perfectly matched black geldings harnessed to the vehicle. She bounced upright immediately and, brushing back a strand of her disheveled hair from her face, glared at him as he lithely entered the curricle and picked up the reins. “This is abduction,” she said hotly. “You're taking me away from here against my will.”
Nicolas sent her a cool smile. “Am I, my dear? Am I really? Last night certainly wasn't against your will. As a matter of fact, if memory serves me correctly, I distinctly remember that you were
very
willing! And I doubt that you are as unwilling now as you pretend.”
Tess drew in a sharp, angry breath, but neither waiting for nor expecting an answer, Nicolas looked away from her and flicked the reins. Instantly the horses leaped forward, the powerful surge knocking her back against the seat. As the Black Pig disappeared behind them, she sat up and demanded, “Where are you taking me?”
“A place to put you did give me some pause,” Nicolas returned pleasantly. “I hadn't planned on meeting you, you see, so I had not made any arrangements, but fortunately, I remembered the old gatekeeper's cottage on the far edge of my estate. It is in the middle of a large wood, and it hasn't been occupied in years. In fact, I doubt that many people even remember its existence. I had Lovejoy send my groom ahead to make certain all is in readiness for our arrival. It should do just fine for you.”
Drawing herself up proudly, Tess said, “Not only do I not have a choice in being with you, but it seems that I am to be kept a prisoner in some shabby deserted old building! I must say, you
are
a generous protector!”
Nicolas's lips tightened and he shot her a dark look. “I think,” he began stiffly, “that you will be very surprised when you see ‘the shabby, deserted old building!' And I think that you have forgotten that I am Sherbourne and that the earls of Sherbourne are seldom mentioned in connection with anything
shabby.”
There was little speech between them after that, as Nicolas concentrated on controlling his high-spirited pair and Tess suddenly became aware that Lovejoy was riding in the groom's seat at the rear of the curricle. Filled with mortification that someone else should have overheard their acrimonious conversation, she kept her eyes resolutely on the road in front of them.
As the miles sped by, some of her anger and embarrassment lessened, although she still resented being abducted so high-handedly. But since Lovejoy's presence made further private speech impossible, she began to glance around, hoping that something in the passing scenery would wake her memory.
Nothing did. The tree-dotted, gently rolling green terrain brought nothing to mind. They went by the occasional farm, several orchards, and even an inn or two, but everything remained depressingly unfamiliar. It was still fairly early in the morning, and they passed only a few vehicles—mostly farmers hauling their produce to market.
It was, Tess admitted reluctantly, a lovely day. The sunshine was bright, and there was only a dark-skirted cloud now and then to mar the brilliant blue of the sky. The leather top of the curricle was still up after last night's storm; for a moment she toyed with the idea of asking him to lower it, then abandoned it. First of all, she wasn't asking him for anything, and second, while the discovery of her identity was imperative, she was still uneasy about who might recognize her. Suppose the person who aroused that powerful urge to flee were to see her? The feeling had lessened slightly for a while, but with every mile they traveled it came back stronger and stronger. She swallowed and unconsciously sank back farther under the concealing hood of the curricle.
As they came around a curve in the road, they met a dashing black highflier being driven at a reckless pace. The gentleman pushing his grays to a dangerous speed was fashionably dressed, with York tan gloves upon his hands and a curly-brimmed beaver hat sitting at a rakish angle on his blond locks. Tess took one glance at that hard, handsome face as his vehicle flashed by and was aware that she was suddenly afraid. Very afraid. She didn't recognize the man, but for some reason just the sight of him filled her with unspeakable terror.

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