The Highwayman (Rakes and Rogues of the Restoration Book 3) (29 page)

“But you said it was easy!”

“If you have the courage for it. Not many would. The hardest part is getting past the fear.”

Arabella felt a fierce excitement. Her fear was gone. It was as though she had leapt outside herself, beyond her fears to someone new, and now she felt invincible. All her senses were heightened. The breeze touched her skin like a soft caress. Music floated to her from across the Thames. The sky was brilliant and it pulsed and throbbed to the beat of her heart. She stopped a moment just to drink it all in, and caught Jack watching her with a knowing look.

“
This
is why you do it,” she whispered.

“This is why,” he acknowledged. “In all of my life, nothing else has given me this feeling––except for you.”

She took a step toward him, leaning into him as her fingers bracketed his mouth, reaching up to bring his lips to hers. Her artless touch sent a sharp bolt of desire stabbing through his vitals, robbing him of breath, making him ache with a blissful pain. Growling, he pulled her tight against his length, plundering her mouth in a searing kiss as she tangled her fingers through his hair.

“Christ, Bella! I swear I am moonstruck. Why did you leave? Why did you tell me to stay away?” he murmured against her throat.

“Because I was afraid, but I am not anymore, Jack. Because—”

“There! I see them! Up on the roof!”

A pistol shot rang out and something hit the nearby chimney. Down below them a line of bobbing torches was heading their way. Jack took Arabella by the hand and they ran, jumping from close-packed rooftop to rooftop, hurtling past chimney stacks, scrambling across rattling tiles of slate and wood shingle, or landing soft-footed on thatch. As he had promised, the way was easier now and it was clear he had passed this way before.

Arabella lost track of what direction they were going, other than away from the torches and shouting men. Soon they had left the lights and shouting behind them, and the night was theirs. They maneuvered their way across several more buildings, each progressively lower and more uniform as they entered the part of the city rebuilt after the Great Fire.

The sounds of pursuit were long gone now, and they finally stopped on the roof of a building bordered by a green space and overlooking a pretty little square. Her heart sank to see her own box-like townhouse sitting smugly on the other side. It had been ten weeks since she’d been home and she hadn’t missed it once. It looked more like a prison to her now than a home.

She gave a little sigh. “It’s hard to believe it’s a little short of a year since we first met. So much has changed. It seems like a lifetime ago.”

“I hope you mean that in a good way,” he said with a wry grin.

She answered with a grin of her own.

They sat companionably, side by side watching the now sleeping city. She could see the Thames, surprisingly close. It wasn’t visible to her from her window. The moon had almost disappeared, swallowed under a thick bank of cloud, and thunder grumbled in the distance. It was unseasonably cool. A fresh breeze lifted her hair and she shivered. Soon it would rain.

She was keenly aware of him stretched out beside her, leaning back on his elbows, as fluid and powerful as a great jungle cat. She watched him as he watched the square. The sweep of his eyelashes, the full-sullen mouth, the strong bristled jaw and the barely perceptible break in his nose, all made her heart flutter. She imagined he had that effect on most women he met, including Peg, though how many had seen him as she had tonight? How many knew him as he really was?
He is magnificent.
What a fool she had been to leave as she did. And still, here he was. Beneath the charm and jokes and games, he was always there whenever she needed him most. ‘Trust me,’ he’d said. And she did.

Jack pulled a flask from his coat pocket and nudged her shoulder, interrupting her thoughts.

“You look like a wild gypsy miss with your hair all in tangles and your skirt hiked up halfway to your knees.”

She accepted the bottle, raising it to him in a silent toast, and managed a healthy swallow before handing it back. The fiery liquid warmed her throat and belly, but it was his warmth that she craved.

“
And
you drink like a sailor.” He raised the flask, returning her salutation and took a swig himself.

“You were hiding that all this time?”

“Mmmm,” he replied amiably. “I generally find it ill-advised to mix strong spirits with acts of derring-do.”

Arabella yawned, still invincible, but physically exhausted. “And which do you prefer? The wild gypsy, or the spinster?”

He shrugged. “There is nothing to choose between the two. Like Swift Nick and Gentleman Jack, they are one and the same. You needn’t fear. I swear to guard your secret as closely as you guard mine.”

Then he nodded to the house across the square and said words she had been dreading.

“There it is, your home. The rain will be upon us soon. No one will bother you tonight. They will still be combing the east side for you come morning. I have Will Butcher and a couple of stout lads he trusts on the way. Don’t
terminate
him without reference this time. He is a proud fellow, and he was mightily offended.”

“He robbed my companions!”

Jack chuckled and closed his hand over her booted ankle, giving her foot a shake. “And so did I. But you didn’t terminate me. At least not then.”

“Jack I—”

“He knows his business, Bella. He has a steady hand, a good head on his shoulders and he’s a crack shot. You might not be able to trust him with your friends’ jewelry, but I promise you, you can trust him with your life.”

“You are leaving, then?” She kept her tone as light as she was able.

“It wouldn’t serve either of us well for me to be caught with you in London. Your friends might recognize me from Shooter’s Hill, particularly if they saw me with you, and it’s easier for me to protect you if your cousin doesn’t know that I do.”

“Don’t you think he will guess, as soon as he hears someone helped me to escape?”

“No. He would never imagine one of your birth would associate with a highwayman, nor that someone like myself would have any use for you, other than your jewelry or a tryst.”

“Then stay with me until it’s safe to leave.” She put her hand upon his sleeve. “Jack…I don’t want you to go.”

~

Her touch sent shivers along his spine. This was a Bella he didn’t know. One who kissed him instead of waiting to be kissed. One who invited instead of waiting to be invited. He had wanted to be brusque and cold, to help her and be gone, but his sullenness and anger hadn’t withstood the first assault. The joy with which she had greeted him, the passion with which she’d returned his kiss had melted his resolve. If he allowed it, she would bewitch him with her words and hold him captive with her touch.

The first drops or rain were beginning to fall. “Come,” he said. “I will see you safely home.”

The Countess of Saye, after more than two months absence from her home, shimmied through her window in the dead of night wearing worn boots and a soot-stained skirt, with no petticoats and a highwayman in tow. Jack, other than appearing rakishly disheveled, looked little the worse for wear.

“That was far too easy, Arabella. Your security is lacking.” He closed the window against a sudden gust of hissing rain and then shook droplets of water from his hat. The deluge had caught them before they were halfway across the square.

“I suppose I shall have to stay close to you, then.” Arabella’s boots squelched when she walked and she shivered in her damp clothes. The rain had come from the north, and the cold that came with it had followed them into the room, wrapping around them so she could see her breath when she talked. “Look though! There are candles lit and everything I need to make a fire. There is even wine and bread. It is as if I had only stepped out for the afternoon. How odd!”

“Your comforts all waiting in case you come home. Every need anticipated whether you are in residence or not. One of the luxuries of being a countess, I suppose, although one of the inns I frequent does the same for me.”

Arabella stomped the water from her boots, took Jack’s hat and sodden coat, and then opened a trunk at the end of her bed, rifling through it to find him a blanket. She was in a very peculiar mood. Her muscles ached, but in a pleasant way, and she was tired yet still excited. Tonight she might have died, a spinster all alone, murdered in an alley. Instead, she’d escaped her pursuers by racing over rooftops and leaping off tall buildings. She’d even struck one of her enemies leaving him cursing and dripping blood.

She had survived and she was proud of it, filled with a confidence, even a cockiness she had never owned before. It simmered through her veins alongside Jack’s brandy, making her feel intensely aware and pleasantly relaxed at the same time. And now, after asking for what she wanted, here she was with Jack. Tired, thirsty, battered and bruised—and hungry––hungry for life and love and kisses. Hungry for him. She took a key from a drawer in her desk, and went to lock the door.

She looked at him over her shoulder as she knelt to build a fire. His white shirt and dark breeches clung to his body, and his hair was damp and plastered in tangled strands about his collarbone and neck. She was fascinated by the steady rise and fall of his chest and the play of the muscles in his shoulders as he bent to remove his boot. When he straightened, her eyes were drawn helplessly to his hard-muscled stomach, and the way his tight breeches outlined every bulge and curve. Her breath quickened and an exquisite longing fluttered through her body. When she had seen him naked at the well she had been shocked and curious, but now, though he was fully clothed, she had never felt more attracted to him.

“Bella? Are you all right?”

“Yes. Yes, I’m fine.” She looked away as he walked toward her, afraid she’d stare right at him. There was no mistaking that he was aroused. She had never ogled the fit of a man’s breeches before. She hoped she wouldn’t make a habit of it, looking at strangers and comparing them to Jack. The very idea turned her cheeks red with a blush so hot it seemed to sear her skin.

“Here…. You’re trembling from the cold. Let me.” He knelt down beside her, his thigh and shoulder almost brushing hers.

His voice felt like a caress, his words were warm on her cheek, and she felt his nearness like a touch. It sent a delicious tingling along her arm. Her nostrils flared, catching his scent and she breathed deep of brandy, leather, rain, and always the fresh wild smell of the moors. She was possessed by something beyond herself tonight, and she let it take her over. Laying her palm gently against the side of his face, she turned him to face her and kissed him gently on the cheek. Her lips lingered just below his ear as she murmured, “No. You’ve done enough tonight. Make yourself comfortable and I’ll join you soon.”

Jack raked his fingers through his hair, eying her warily, his whole body aching from one sweet small kiss. He knew her for an innocent, but everything about her was so very inviting. He wanted to be certain not to misconstrue. “If I get too comfortable, I might succumb to my wicked impulses and steal your jewels, your clothes…perhaps your heart.”

“It’s far too late for warnings. You’ve already taken all three. I can’t believe you let my petticoat set sail for London.”

He chuckled as he looked around for a place to sit. “The way it caught the breeze I expect it’s halfway to France by now.” The room was exactly as he remembered it. The chessboard was still on its table and two comfortable armchairs faced the fire. He considered taking one, or claiming the couch, but his clothes were damp and he didn’t want to ruin her furniture. He settled for filching a couple of pillows from her comfortable-looking curtained bed. The last time he had been in this room she’d been lying in it naked, her shapely body covered by nothing but thin sheets.
I meant to save her from a fate like that which befell my mother. I meant to save her from myself. Yet I lack the courage of my convictions. I cannot stay away.

He stretched out on a rug behind her, watching her pretty derriere move enticingly as she shifted this way and that, reaching for what she needed to build her fire. His throbbing cock strained against his breeches and he shifted, easing it. It was a state he’d grown accustomed to whenever she was near. He had learned to be a patient man and had never been a greedy one— but he had never denied himself this long. He pitied whores and never used them, though his friends mocked him mercilessly for his restraint. There had always been invitations though, from kitchen maids to duchesses, yet none had appealed since Arabella crossed his path.

I live like a monk while surrounded by plenty. Yet I am bound for the devil and the noose while they at least find comfort in God. Mayhap she will be my comfort tonight.

She was humming to herself, some long forgotten Irish lament she had probably learned from her mother, but when she rose and came to him her smile was bright and his heart raced at the promise he saw in her eyes. She laid some Irish whisky she kept for medicinal purposes on a low table, and fetched the bread and wine.

Jack patted the rug beside him. “Come, love. Sit with me. We’ll warm each other. You must be exhausted.” He opened his arms, inviting her to join him under the blanket.

She melted against him, burrowing into his warmth and gave him a tight hug. Sliding her hand under his still damp shirt she place it against his heart, feeling its steady beat and enjoying the feel of his skin, hot against her palm.
That’s his life I feel, so close to me.

“Thank you, Jack. For coming to the rescue again.”

He gathered her close with a chuckle. “I told you, it’s become my hobby. But I swear to you, Bella, you are as brave and cool under fire as anyone I’ve been on campaign with, and a good sight prettier too. Teach you to use a sword and a fellow could wish no finer company for a good night’s ramble on the town.”