My Lady Notorious (31 page)

“I’m untouched!” Chastity pleaded. “Oh, believe me, sirs! I’d only just been delivered to the place when I escaped.”

“Well then,” drawled the thin man, bright-eyed, “we are the lucky
ones, aren’t we? Mrs. Kelly charges ten guineas for a virgin. Hold her,
Pog, and I’ll toss you for it.”

“You’re on, Stu.” The big man wrapped Chastity in beefy arms.
Chastity yelled, but only got one cry out before his fat hand clamped
over her mouth, stinking of snuff and onions. She kicked, but he just
laughed.

The thin captain took out a crown and spun it, gleaming, in the dim
light. He covered it on the back of his hand and quirked a brow at his
friend. “Heads,” said her captor.

The thin man peered at the coin. “Damme, you win. Never mind, you’ll have her well-greased for me.”

Chastity’s captor spun her around. “Come here, me darling!” He
plastered his hot, slimy mouth over hers. It was the end. Chastity bit
his tongue and kicked again. He cursed and let her go. She went for his
eyes.

He knocked her down with a savage blow to her head. She lay stunned
for a moment, then scrambled to her feet. He tried to grab her, but his
friend had the same idea. The two men tangled and fell. The linkboy
laughed. Chastity spat at him and ran, but a flailing hand grabbed her
skirt and brought her crashing to the cobbles. The hand dragged her
back to the men. She kicked and pummeled wildly at everything about
her. She almost won free, but a new assailant grabbed her from behind.
She thrust back with her elbow and heard a gasp.

“It’s all right,” said an amused, if pained, voice. “I won’t hurt you.”

Chastity froze, then twisted. “Cyn…” she whispered. His eyes widened in disbelief. Chastity flung herself into his arms.

Cyn was frozen with shock. This beautiful, bruised, bedraggled doxy
was his damsel? What in Hades had been going on? He’d been scouring the
town for her for hours.

“I say, get in line. She’s ours.” The two officers were on their feet and belligerent.

“A spicy one, ain’t she?” said the thin man. “Plenty there for three, but we’ve tossed and Pog won.”

She tensed and whimpered. Cyn wanted to kill them, but he couldn’t
risk such drama. Her name might come out. “Alas,” said Cyn, smiling
without humor, “Pog has now lost.”

“Damme, you can’t do that!”

“Indeed I can. Come, my dear.”

He had half-turned when the whine of a sword leaving a scabbard
alerted him. He spun back, thrusting Chastity behind him, and slid out
his own rapier. There was no time for niceties. He barely had time to
deflect the thin man’s point from his heart.

Then he was balanced and engaging him, testing him. He found no
contest. The man had only moderate skill and was in his cups. Cyn could
skewer him any time he chose, but dared not. Already curtains and doors
were chinking open as people peeped out to see the excitement. Soon the
Watch would be on the scene. He set to persuading his opponent to
retreat without bloodshed.

At first, Chastity stood in a daze, watching as Cyn’s blade
flickered in the dim light, as the slender weapons hissed and snapped
of death. Then she saw a movement and glanced to the side. The other
man, Pog, was sidling toward her, his wet-lipped leer telling of his
intent.

Chastity grabbed the linkboy’s torch and thrust it at the man. “Keep away!” He staggered back, cursing.

“Don’t set him on fire,” said Cyn, and danced back a few steps until
he was close to her again. He flashed her an encouraging, even humorous
look. He was even finding enjoyment in the situation, damn him!

“Look,” he said to his opponent, not at all out of breath, “I’m
better and faster than you, and sober to boot. I have no desire to draw
blood, but I’m in something of a hurry. How about it?” As if to prove
his point, he severed a silver button from the thin man’s uniform and
sent it flashing into the gutter.

“Damme!” the man sputtered, knocking the sword away.

Cyn returned in a flash to remove another button.

“Oh, let it be, Stu,” growled Pog. “The skinny trollop’s not worth the candle.”

Stu snarled, but he lowered his rapier and put on an air. “Damme,
but you’re right, Pog. Doubtless a well-worn bag.” He slid his sword
home and put on a swagger. “Let’s go find a better. But don’t cross me
again, sir,” he said to Cyn. “I’ll remember this night.”

They strolled off, the linkboy with them, and within moments
Chastity found herself alone with Cyn. It hit her like a fist that he’d
not been surprised to discover she was a woman. “You know!”

He pushed his sword into its scabbard and flashed her a rueful
smile. “Yes, but now’s neither the time nor the place. Let’s get out of
here.” He placed an arm around her and hurried her along the lane
toward the high street.

Chastity had a thousand things she wanted to say. but could understand there might be a need for haste.

How long had he known?

She was no longer alone.

He must know she was Chastity Ware.

The worst was perhaps over.

Had he known last night? Had she trapped him after all?

This drained the last of her strength. Her legs turned to rubber and
her head began to swim. Only his strong arm enabled her to continue on.

Cyn was half-carrying her by the time they reached a crude stable,
not the one belonging to the Saracen’s Head. He carried her in and set
her on some straw. There were just a half-dozen horses there, all of
them draught horses except theirs. There was only one dim lantern and
it hung outside the door. Cyn carried it in and hung it on a hook.

“I moved the horses to this place in case the Saracen’s Head was
under watch.” He turned to her and saw her clearly for the first time.
All humor left his face and he knelt before her. “Dear Lord, what has
happened to you?”

Chastity tried to stuff her bright-red nipples back into her bodice.
Her hands were shaking and it was impossible anyway. She started to
cry. She was enveloped in his coat—warm from his body—then in his arms.
“Hush, love, hush. It’s all right now. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

She laughed at that, somewhat wildly. He muttered a curse, then put
a flask to her lips and tipped it. Neat brandy burned down her throat
and shocked back her wits, but she couldn’t stop crying. He kept
holding and soothing her until the tears stopped.

After a while he moved her so he could see her face, and tenderly
wiped the tears away. She expected questions and had a list of them
herself, but he said, “We need to be away from here. Can you ride?”

Chastity wanted to rest, perhaps to die, but she gathered her
resources. Her father and brother mustn’t catch him. “I suppose so…”
She looked helplessly down at her clothes.

His eyes followed hers. “What… ? Never mind.” He picked up the
portmanteau. “Put on my spare clothes. They’ll be too big, but
anything’s better than what you have on.”

She went behind a partition and stripped off the hateful garments.
She wished she could burn them, but she stuffed them in the bag so
there would be no evidence that she and Cyn had been there.

She pulled on a pair of Cyn’s drawers, a shirt, his blue breeches,
waistcoat, and coat. The shirt had been worn and his smell lingered on
it, strangely sweet to her senses. The breeches were loose in the waist
but were held up by a belt; the legs ended down on her calves, but her
boots would cover that. The coat was far too wide at the shoulders.

She knotted a soft cravat around her throat and realized she was
still wearing the wig. Reluctantly, she took it off and put it in the
bag. She’d thought she’d grown used to her cap of hair, but after
having been herself for a little while, it once again seemed freakishly
short. She squared her shoulders and walked out.

He smiled. “Welcome back, Charles.” At his tenderness she closed her
eyes in despair, realizing clearly for the first time that all her good
intentions had come to naught.

He’d saddled their horses as she changed and now he led hers over.
He reached up and touched her hair. She flinched, but he wouldn’t let
her move away. He stroked the back of her head. “I’ve wanted to do that
for so long…” He let the horse’s reins fall. “The wig is pretty, but
your short hair is beautiful too.”

“You can’t mean that.”

His touch was gentle and loving, the warmth of it trickling down her
spine. “I do. You have a face that needs no ornament, no distraction.
I’ve also wanted to do this for so long…”

His lips were soft at first, and gentle, but in no way hesitant.
Chastity knew she should fight, but this was their first honest kiss,
and she could not reject it. She kissed him back. He deepened it,
opening his mouth warmly, using his hands, his whole body to sweep her
beyond reason into a world ruled only by the senses.

She tasted him, honey-sweet, brandy-rich, then her mouth too was demanding, her hands seeking.

He pulled back with a shaky laugh. “Dear heaven, love, I wish this
were the time and place…” He touched her cheek. “Don’t look so
appalled. Everything will be all right. Trust me.”

“I’m Chastity Ware. It can never be all right.”

“I’m Cyn Malloren. Trust me.”

The feeling of exasperation was familiar. “Even a Malloren can’t change the world.”

He smiled that lazy smile that could make her toes curl. “Try me sometime. Come on.” He cupped his hands to help her mount.

Chastity abandoned the fruitless argument for the moment. He’d learn
there were some things beyond repair, and if she didn’t let him make
commitments, or let him learn she was Chloe, he’d soon tire of this
game.

It was only as she raised her foot to put it in his hands that she
realized riding was going to hurt. She gritted her teeth and didn’t
make a sound as she landed on the saddle, but tears sprang to her eyes.
Thank heavens her father hadn’t progressed to whipping her buttocks.
The pain from her stinging thighs was bad enough.

Cyn was mounting his own horse so she had a moment to overcome the worst of it. How far could she ride, though?

She had no choice. If she told Cyn of her injuries, they would both
stay here and be trapped. Her father made a bad enemy at the best of
times, and now she wasn’t even sure he was sane. If he could turn on
his son and heir, what would he do to a stranger?

She took the reins in her left hand and hoped Cyn wouldn’t notice.
They rode out into the dark lane side by side and Cyn headed away from
the town.

“I scouted here earlier,” he said. “This lane leads out of
Maidenhead to the village of Woodlands Green. I doubt it will be
watched. It’s smooth and simple and lined with hedges. It should
present no difficulty even in the dark if we take it slowly.”

Chastity gave a prayer of thanks for the slow pace. Each swaying
motion of the horse gave her a twinge of pain, but she could bear it at
a walk.

“Tell me what’s been happening,” she said.

“I could ask the same of you,” he said, but complied. “I found
Frazer without any trouble. He was completely on our side. Seemed to
have a dim opinion of your father, which I suppose is natural as the
earl had refused his suit. Anyway, he made an excuse to go home, but of
course he’s on his way to Winchester. If he can travel in the dark, he
could reach there by midnight. I wish there was more than a quarter
moon.”

“Then what will he do?”

“He’s to take Verity to a place called Long Knotwell, where his
brother, Tom, is the parson. By great good fortune, Frazer has just
spent a couple of months based there, recovering from a minor wound and
taking furlough. It establishes his residency so they can be wed there
without difficulty.”

“Where is Long Knotwell?”

“Not far from Fleet. Frazer made a rather bad joke about Fleet
weddings, but of course such hasty ceremonies are illegal these days.
As we don’t have time for banns, they’ll need a Public License.”

“Lord. How does one get one of those?”

“From a bishop. In this case, the Bishop of London, as Long Knotwell
is in his diocese. It’s usually necessary for one of the parties to
present themselves and swear oaths about the legality of the union, but
we decided I would try for the license with Frazer’s sworn statement in
hand, while he gets Verity to Long Knotwell. At a pinch, the Reverend
Frazer will marry them anyway. Such marriages are usually upheld if
there is no legal impediment. Anyway,” he added dryly, “I’m hoping the
fact that the bishop is my mother’s uncle may ease things.”

“The power of the Mallorens again. But then shouldn’t you be in London now?”

He turned to her. “I had to see you safe.”

“Why?” she demanded in exasperation. “Time is of the essence. My
father seems desperate to get his hands on Verity. I told you to forget
about me if I was caught!”

“You never do what you’re told,” he said lightly. “Why should I?”

She hissed at him. “Don’t you dare make a joke of this!”

She saw him smile—the pale of his teeth in the dark.“‘He that is of
a merry heart hath a continual feast,’”he quoted.“‘Tis my nature,
sweeting… But I’ll try to be serious if that’s what you want.” His
voice turned coolly authoritative as he added, “Why don’t we start by
you telling me your story, beginning with why you left the safety of
the inn?”

There was a hoot and a whir as a hunting owl floated close overhead.
Something rustled nervously in a nearby hedgerow, but otherwise the
countryside was silent. Cyn too was silent, with a silence that
demanded answers.

“I was spotted at the window,” Chastity said reluctantly. “I didn’t
want the searcher to trap me in that room, for it would link me to you.
So I left. I bribed the innkeeper not to tell anyone I’d been with you.
I told him I was running away to enlist, and he became full of
patriotic fervor—three guineas’ worth, to be precise.”

“So I gathered. As far as I can tell, he at least gave three guineas’ worth of silence. Then what?”