Rebel Dreams (19 page)

He knocked at the right-hand door. Despite the inn’s
weathered appearance, the door seemed sturdy and Alex doubted his ability to
break it in with anything less than an ax. The low ceiling brought his head
uncomfortably close to the rafters, and when, miraculously, he heard Evelyn’s
voice on the other side of the door, he had to duck to enter the low door
frame.

She stood in the center of the loft, wearing a wine wool
riding habit and soft wool cloak, nervously clasping her hands. She watched his
approach with wide, frightened eyes. Her expression nearly made him forget the
wide bed situated not feet from where she stood.

“Thank goodness! Your message nearly frightened me to death!
What is it, Alex? Have you discovered something? I’ve been so worried waiting here
alone. I thought something had happened to you.”

Shocked, it took Alex a minute to grasp her meaning. When he
did, he stared at her in befuddlement. “
My
message? You’re the one who sent the message. You damned near took a year off
my life, thinking you were in the hands of brigands or worse. Whatever made you
choose this deuced place? I don’t trust the proprietor any further than I can
throw him.”

“I didn’t send any message.” Bewildered, Evelyn looked
alarmed. “Are you telling me you found nothing new? That we were both brought
out here for naught?”

At her words, Alex grabbed her arm and headed for the door. “Let’s
get out of here. It’s almost dark already. I don’t like this one bit.”

They clattered down the stairs to find no one at the bottom.
Alex hurried Evelyn out the front door and into the inn yard. They would be
lucky to make it back to Boston by dark. Fears of ambush, or worse, something
happening back in town that they could have prevented, had him half dragging
her across the yard.

His horse wasn’t where he had left it. Gut churning, Alex headed
for the stable. Evelyn ran beside him, silent as always when she was worried.

When they reached the gloom of the stable, it was empty. Alex
cursed. They were twenty miles from nowhere, and not a horse in sight.

Evelyn stared at the empty shed with quiet resignation. “I
rode a livery horse and left it outside. No horse thief in his right mind would
steal that creature.”

Alex dragged her back toward the inn again. “This isn’t
good.”

He roared as they entered the inn, but the placed echoed emptily.
No one sat in the tavern. He dragged her down the hall to the kitchen, where
the back door opened and a stout, weary old woman entered.

“You want summat?” She wiped her hands on her dirty apron.

“We want our horses. Where is your husband?” Irritated that
he had no one to throttle, Alex tapped his boot.

The woman snorted. “Ain’t got no husband. Mr. Stockton took
the wagon to town for supplies and won’t be back until morning. I don’t know
nothin’ about no horses.”

Alex’s patience was growing thinner. “Our horses are gone.
We need to return to town. Don’t you have any other patrons? We need some means
of travel.”

She shrugged. “Everybody knows we’re closed Monday nights
when Mr. Stockton goes to town. He just said to fix you and your fancy lady
some supper when you’re ready. You ready?”

“Later.” With that one word, Alex turned on his heel and
stalked outside again. Evelyn ran to keep up with him.

“Alex, what are we going to do?” It was already too dark to
see the yard. She stumbled over a tree stump and Alex caught her elbow.

“Listen for horses. Scream for help. Hell, I don’t know.
Have you some suggestion?”

“We could walk,” she offered tentatively. “Perhaps we’d meet
someone on the road.”

“Probably. Thieves and cutthroats are fond of traveling by
night. Can’t think of anyone else who would.”

“We can’t stay here,” Evelyn protested.

Alex studied her pale face in the dark. His mind had rejected
all the alternatives—except one. That one made sense to him and was more in
character with women as he knew them. “Why not, Miss Wellington? It is safer
than being set upon by cutthroats. Our friendly innkeeper will be back with his
wagon in the morning to rescue us. It sounds like the thing to do to me.”

***

Evelyn started at him in disbelief. “Alex, we can’t! My
family will be worried sick. And if we’re gone all night together . . .
It won’t do. We’ll have to walk.”

Alex turned back toward the inn. “When neither of us
returns, your mother will know we’re together and be content with this turn of
events. I imagine she and your uncle were growing worried about our dilatory
courtship. This should put an end to their concerns.”

“Alex, have you gone mad?” Evelyn hurried after him.

“Oh, no, my dear. On the contrary, I am regaining my senses.
You’re a very clever wench, you know. You should be quite proud of yourself.
Come, abominable as she looks, our hostess is quite a formidable cook. We might
as well make ourselves comfortable. We have a long night ahead.”

Evelyn tried to puzzle out his meaning. He should be
furious, but he didn’t seem to be, not any longer, leastways. She caught at his
arm. “Alex, have you thought of something? If so, please tell me. You’re
terrifying me.”

He looked down at her with that sardonic venom she
remembered from their first meeting. “Aye, I’ve thought of something, and
strange as it might seem, I’m not totally averse to it. If a man has to be
leg-shackled, it might as well be to a woman as sensible and independent as he,
who won’t weep buckets when he indulges himself in recreational pastimes. On
the whole, I approve of your ingenious plan, although I fear you may not be
quite as pleased as I.”

The cook entered and Alex signaled to her. “We’ll take our
supper upstairs as soon as practicable. The night will be too short as it is.”
At the cook’s curt nod, he caught Evelyn’s wrist and pulled her in the
direction of the stairs.

She stared at him in horror, not believing her ears. He
seemed perfectly rational, but his words were madness. The black glitter of his
eyes warned that he wasn’t as complacent as he played. Evelyn dug in her heels
in and refused to budge.

“I don’t know what mad bee you have in your bonnet, Alex
Hampton, but I’ll eat down here, thank you. This whole situation is unseemly
enough without adding to the disgrace.”

Alex lifted one black eyebrow in a villainous manner that
must have taken hours of practice to perfect. “Unseemly? You threw that word at
me once before, and I told you my idea of ‘seemly.’ Now it appears we have
little choice in the matter. Will you come quietly or shall I throw you over my
shoulder?”

“I’ll not come quietly. I warn you of that right now. Hadn’t
we ought to sit down and talk this over? I am certain there must be some way
out of this.” Evelyn tried to twist from his unrelenting grasp.

“We’ll talk upstairs. I do not like setting my weapons down
here, and I have no intention of waving a gun in your face like a proper
brigand. So come along, and we’ll talk upstairs. I daresay this is a den of
thieves, and it would not be any safer for you to stay below than to go with
me.”

Evelyn suspected he had the right of it. She glanced anxiously
around, not liking the heavy shadows or the stale smells of smoke and ale,
remembering with creeping flesh the look the proprietor had given her earlier.
For some odd reason, she had always felt safe with Alex. Her gaze fell to the
pistol in his trouser band, barely concealed by his unbuttoned coat and vest.
It was too intimately situated for her to grab.

Instead, she held out her hand. “I’ll go with you if you
give me the pistol.”

A gleam of humor leapt to Alex’s eye but disappeared just as
quickly. His hand closed around the pistol butt. “Do you know how to handle one
of these? I’d not like to see you shoot your toe off.”

“I’m no marksman, but I know the basics. It’s not my toe
that will be endangered.”

With a formal bow he presented the pistol. “Now, upstairs
with you. I have large plans for this evening.”

There was that note in his voice again. Clutching the
pistol, Evelyn glanced up the shabby stairs. Alex had been too surprised and
angry for her to believe he had planned this, and he was probably right that
they had little choice but to stay. That didn’t mean they had to engage in
anything improper while they were here. Remembering the door on the left side
of the loft and that the woman had said there were no other guests, Evelyn strode
up the stairs with a little more confidence.

Alex stayed close behind her and did nothing to stop her
when she tested the knob to the other room. It was locked.

“I daresay that’s part of his storage. As uninhabited as
this place seems to be, he wouldn’t need more accommodation than the one room.
The bed could easily hold three and the floor would take a dozen pallets. We’re
lucky to have it all to ourselves.”

Evelyn sent him a sharp look, but Alex’s expression was
bland as he opened the bedroom door for her.

Alex struck a flint to the lamp on the table. Nervously she
took in her surroundings. The round table and two chairs were an unexpected
nicety. She noted the cracked pitcher and bowl on the washstand while Alex
threw back the worn quilt on the bed. The clean sheets beneath apparently met with
his approval. Her anxiety escalated.

“We’ll be here all night, so you might as well make yourself
comfortable. As lovely as that habit is, it must be a trifle warm. Let me help
you with the jacket.”

He unfastened a button before Evelyn could protest. The intimacy
of his hand brushing her breast left her breathless. He slid the coat from her
shoulders with ease, leaving Evelyn to wonder if she would be completely
unclothed before she had time to say a word.

To her relief, Alex turned his attention to his own coat,
shaking it off and hanging it over the other chair. His billowy shirt failed to
conceal his masculine physique, and Evelyn couldn’t help but watch with
fascination as he lifted his square chin to unfasten his lace jabot. She wished
desperately that he would leave the shirt fastened.

Since he wasn’t obedient to her silent wishes, Evelyn turned
her back on him to observe the uncovered floor where men presumably spread
their pallets. She didn’t hear Alex’s footsteps behind her until his arm slid
around her waist. With his other hand, he deprived her of the pistol, laying it
on the table behind them.

His voice was a warm murmur against her hair. “It’s too late
for shyness, Miss Wellington. We both know what will come of this night. We
might as well begin enjoying it now. Pretend it is our wedding night, if you
like. It is just as good as taking you to a room at the King’s Arms or spending
it on one of those narrow beds at your mother’s. Or don’t ladies think of
marriage beds when they trap men into taking vows?”

His broad hand was almost comforting, but his words brought
Evelyn’s head up with a snap. When she tried to pull away, the comforting arm
became a band of steel.

“You are mad! Let go of me this instant! I no more want
marriage than you do. I’ll not be forced any further, Alex. I don’t think I can
bear it.”

Alex turned her around and lowered his lips to hers. “I’ll
not force you, little tyrant,” he murmured against her mouth. “I’ll never force
you. There’s no need to. See?”

His mouth fastened to hers, plying her with soft kisses, caressing
her lips with his tongue. Evelyn tried to ward him off, but he had fed her
dangerous addiction to his caresses too well. He made no aggressive moves but kissed
her until she had to bring her hands to his chest to keep her balance. The heat
of his skin beneath the fine cambric effectively melded her in place, and her
head slanted to better receive his kisses.

She shuddered as his tongue took advantage of the opening
between her lips. She closed her eyes and allowed the searing invasion. His breath
quickened as well as her own, heightening her excitement. His heart beat faster
as he drew her closer, and his kiss became more demanding.

Alex’s muffled groan brought Evelyn back to her senses, what
few of them remained. She wanted the comfort of his embrace, but not at the
cost of all her principles. She turned her head away from the drug of his mouth
but could not yet summon the strength to push from his hold. His kisses strayed
across her hair as she leaned into him.

“Alex, this is impossible. We would do better walking back
to town than remaining here.”

His hand ran up her spine, pressing her closer into the
curve of his body as he sought the pins securing the heavy masses of her hair. “The
result would be the same, my dear. You’re quite properly ruined in the eyes of
the world whether you spend the night in my bed or on the road. Let’s not fight
it anymore.”

A knock on the door warned that supper had arrived. Evelyn pushed
away and began to arrange her hair.

The cook’s sly looks as she took in their disheveled state
was embarrassing. Alex sent the cook away as soon as the table was laid.
Studying her as if he was as hungry for her as the food, he pulled out a chair
and gestured for her to sit.

With the safety of an entire table between them, Evelyn sat.
She had shared a dinner table with Alex many times, but never alone and not
like this. Wearing no coat and with his shirt unfastened, he lost his elegant facade
and became pure raw male. She was aware of his stubbornly square chin, and the
dangerous flash of his eyes. Lowering her gaze, she couldn’t avoid noticing the
capability of wide, strong hands as they manipulated his fork and knife. She
knew what those hands could do to her.

“You’re not eating,” he said.

“I’m not hungry.” She pushed away her plate and clasped her
hands in her lap, not looking at him.

“If you don’t eat, I’ll assume you’re eager to share my bed,
and I will gladly oblige.” Alex sliced off a piece of beef and put it in his
mouth.