The Highwayman's Bride (5 page)

Her plan escalated. Marry and then disappear.

“I wonder how many of these guests would want to know what you do for a living? Have you robbed from any of them already?” She pointed toward a rather stately gentleman, his puffed-out cheeks pink from imbibing too much cherry wine. The man mopped his forehead and scraped a finger underneath his too tight neck cloth. Tess stifled a giggle. She could not help but feel sorry for the overstuffed gentleman. “There’s Arthur Dunhoven. He’s worth a packet from trading investments in the Indies. Why not corner him for his pocket watch? I’m sure he must be carrying some gold coin too.”

The play of expressions on Aiden’s face delighted her.

He, however, did not turn to look at the guest, but kept his gaze fixed on her. “You think to tease me, Miss Stanhope?”

“Oh, I don’t think it, I know I am. I know your secret, you see.”

“You’re playing a dangerous game.”

“Am I?” Her mouth curved into a tiny smile. “If you thought I posed any threat to you, you would have done something straightaway, yet you haven’t. But you are wrong, Aiden, because I
am
a threat.” She rested the tip of one finger on her chin, tilting her head playfully and smiling up at him. “Good disguise, by the way. Posing as a gentleman.”

“A gentleman who right now could quite easily commit murder. How about we take a walk outside?” Without waiting for her answer, he drew her from their hiding place into the cacophony of partygoers. His grip on her proved brutal and Tess realized if she created a scene she would draw the wrath of Luther. She had no choice. “A walk sounds like a wonderful idea.”

“I’m surprised you came so easily,” Aiden commented as they passed through a set of French doors and onto a paved patio regaled with lanterns.

Tess played for time. “How so?”

“Escaping the throng of crowds in the overheated ballroom with a gentleman would certainly not be deemed de
rigueur
for a lady. Worse, since I am such a rogue.”

“Perhaps,” she shrugged. “But then I never do what is expected of me.”

“Then you are not like the other young women here.”

“I thought you already knew that. Besides, would you want me to be?” Good Lord, she’d gone too far. She was no coquette, used to the flirting of the
ton
.

Uncertainty suddenly reared. Could she do this? She swallowed back her breath and waited.

“No,” he finally answered. “In this world of hunt and be hunted I think you are quite refreshing.” He paused a moment as his gaze swept across her décolletage and up to her mouth, holding her captive in his teasing search. “Which would you prefer to be, Tess? The hunted…or the hunter?”

Under his scrutiny, she struggled to drag in some air, the simple act of breathing impossible. “I do not want to be hunted, or caught,” she said in a rush.

His mouth twitched ever so slightly. “No, I did not think you would. You, Miss Stanhope, want to control the game.”

She did. And she would. She shot him a tight smile. “Of course. Why should men get all the fun?”

“Is it fun? Was it fun sitting atop your horse, waiting for the carriage to round the corner, waiting to rob the innocent?”

“No, but then I can only answer from my one experience.”

Just then a slight breeze wafted across the treetops and the stars lit up the sky like the very best of diamonds haloing all beneath them in a shimmering glow.

The time had come to make her move—to make Aiden Masters see he had no option. Tess lifted her chin, stemmed her nerves and pulled her shoulders back. “And what about you, Aiden?”

His smile evaporated. “I do what I have to do, Tess.”

“Perhaps,” she said with a hint of a smile. “But it seems me that you have a secret, something I think you would prefer remained so.”

He turned on her with a speed that belied his size. In the moonlight, he looked frighteningly fierce. His eyes had darkened to an almost blue-black, dark lashes barely shadowing the wash of anger reflected in them. The pulse in his jaw flexed and a single bead of sweat trickled down his temple.

Tess focused on that tiny bead, while her fingers itched to reach up and wipe it away. “You would not want those people in there to know who you really are, would you?” she said at last, dragging her attention from that teasing bead.

Aiden’s hands clenched into fists. “And I presume you intend to tell them.”

Tess smiled her satisfaction. So far this was proving easier than expected. “I might.”

“Blackmail, Tess? This is something new to add to your growing list of accomplishments. Highway robbery, blackmailer. It does have a certain ring to it.”

Tess cringed inwardly, for it was true, but she would not falter. “You yourself have said we do what we must. I want independence and as a married woman, it is automatic.”

“So go find yourself a husband.”

She offered him a telling smile and her heart raced at breakneck speed. Her hopes and dreams were all tied up in this very moment. “I already have.”

Something in his expression faltered, only to disappear in an instant. “Congratulations, I hope you will be very happy. Have I met him?”

“Absolutely.”

“Who is he?”

This was it. The moment she prayed would work. Had to work. “You!”

“Bloody hell!” Aiden grabbed her shoulders and wrenched her to him, knocking the air from her lungs.

“What are you doing? Don’t touch me.”

“Strange words from a woman who has just proposed marriage.” He sneered at her but he did release her, though he didn’t step away and his body still caressed her length.

Her mind reeled at his closeness, a sensory world of heat and touch. Of sinful thoughts.
Concentrate. Stick with the plan.

What plan? This had been a spur of the moment idea. Now she had to make it work.

A flurry of nerves and fear coiled tight in her gut. This man was big. Her gaze dropped to his hands. Big hands. Hands that could break her without much effort.

Tess knew she tempted him, which was exactly as it needed to be if she were to succeed. Then he did something she hadn’t expected. He lifted a hand to her neck, scraping the back of his fingers along its curve. Her breath hitched for a heartbeat.

Do it, Tess. He’s your only hope.

“I desire the independence of a married woman,” she said in a rush.

His eyes darkened to the color of the deepest night sky. “And?”

The tip of her tongue slid along the rim of her mouth, and butterflies fluttered in her stomach. “Marry me, Aiden, and you’ll never see me again. Marry me, or I will announce to the world your penchant for robbery.”

His hand fell away, his expression instantly stony. “You are either very brave, Tess Stanhope, or extremely foolish.”

“I know what I want.”

“So do I.”

Then he kissed her—and that changed everything.

Chapter Five

Everyone was there, the rich, the rogues

Hearts aflutter, diamonds glittering

All in the quest to find true love—or a proposal.

Mirabelle’s Musings

November 1813

“You taste as sweet as—”

Her palm connected with his jaw and his head snapped back. “You kissed me.”

He had, and that’s because he had been fantasizing about her since that fateful night, for God’s sake. He closed off such thoughts and massaged his throbbing jaw. “Isn’t that what a betrothed couple does? Consider it a warning not to play games you cannot win, Tess. I am not some twittering idiot of the
ton
you want to idle your hours with.”

She tilted her chin up a fraction and he witnessed that sense of pride and strength she’d shown when they first met. Eyes the color of a lush forest stared hard at him, and he found himself imagining a rod of steel the length of her spine.

“This is no game. You, Aiden Masters, are a hardened criminal who would prefer your secret to remain just that.”

He stemmed his denial and shrugged. Let her think what she liked. It was best that way. Real secrets were always better kept than shared. Besides, now that he’d seen her uncle with Nash it made it imperative he keep up the ruse. Better she think him a rogue than the man determined to bring Nash’s—and her uncle’s—activities to an end.

“So you resort to blackmail. I hate to disappoint you. There is a problem you haven’t thought of.”

“Which is?”

At her continued temerity Aiden’s mouth twitched. “I am not in the market for a wife.”

“And yet you came here tonight. These soirees are the greatest hunting ground of all. Oh, but I forget,” she said, wagging a finger at him as if he were a naughty boy residing in the nursery, “I’m sure you had
other
business to attend to. Jewels and gold coin to appropriate.”

Keep up the facade. Keep her believing the worst and then walk away.

“’Tis a living,” he answered as blandly as possible.

“A dangerous one.”

“I’ve survived thus far.”

“You are not afraid to die?”

“I’ve seen death before. It is not gentle, but no, I’m not afraid.” He shifted farther into the darkness, away from prying eyes and ears. “You want a husband, Tess. There are many here to choose from.”

“None as biddable as yourself.”

Her honesty was refreshing. “You think me such easy prey that you can manipulate me?”

“You live a secret life you do not want the world to know of. I want my freedom.”

“You think blackmailing me will solve your problems.”

“I know it will.”

Her smile reached her eyes and suddenly Aiden found himself smiling back. He couldn’t help himself.

“Do I not have a say in this marriage of ours?”

“It is simple. We marry and then you go back to your world of stealing and I will go elsewhere.”

“Where exactly would that be? And how will you live? Or do you have an endowment to support you?”

She went to speak, but clammed up and Aiden witnessed the sudden slam of reality in her expression and the slight fall of her shoulders. It tugged at his conscience and worse. Could he in all faith leave her to the perils of that repugnant uncle? He’d abandoned his duty before and had lived with the guilt ever since. But marriage?

After Lillian’s deception, Aiden had vowed never to enter that world again and now he was so close to Nash he could not, would not, allow anything, or anyone, to get in his way. Not even the delightful Tess.

“I had not thought that far,” she finally admitted.

Just as he expected. “So this is another harebrained scheme.”

“It is not!” She took umbrage, cheeks heating to a tender blush of pink.

“Sorry, Tess, but I will not be bludgeoned by you, or any woman, into marriage. May I suggest you try a different tactic for your next victim? The usual is batting one’s eyelashes or offering flattery, neither of which you have offered me.”

“My uncle, whom you’ve met—”

“Unfortunately.” His mouth soured. He’d also witnessed her uncle’s tête-à-tête earlier with Nash. Why was Nash with Gibbs? He’d wanted to slam a fist into the bastard then and there, but remembering the bigger picture had restrained him from an attack.

“He has…had someone in mind.”

“So marry him.”

Horror washed over her expression in an instant. “Never. Never to that man.”

“Is he old?”

“No.”

“Then what caused you, a young woman of…” He hesitated, allowing his gaze to skim her length, imagining her dressed again in the trews. He lifted his gaze slowly with the knowledge his inspection rankled. “You are a passable beauty, Tess. Why would you rush to the highway of ruin, and later, accost me and demand I marry you, post haste?”

She hitched her chin up a fraction and Aiden found himself quite enamored with her determination.

“Because the man Luther has in mind is in his own image.”

For a moment, Aiden didn’t understand. Then he remembered her uncle’s none-too-subtle threats. “Your uncle beats you.”

Tess disconnected her gaze from him and looked away.

“Tess?”

Even in their dimly lit grove, Aiden witnessed the telltale threat of her tears. “Tess?”

Finally, she lifted her gaze back to his. Her mouth trembled slightly, but there was a determination in her eyes. And desperation. “His fists may not have connected as yet, but that is only because he prefers…other ways. A pinch here, his fingers digging into my arm. Things no one would see, but vicious nevertheless.” She straightened and pushed her shoulders back. “The man my uncle deemed I should marry is no better. He is a violent man and drinks too much. His first wife died. I saw her bruises and it was not once.” She offered a tentative and sad smile. “I have lived the last eight years in a violent household, Aiden. I will not subject myself to such a life in a marriage.”

“And you want to marry me instead?”

Long lashes
glistened, tipped with the hint of tears, then lifted, revealing her steadfast forest green gaze. It pierced the tiniest of holes into his hardened heart.

“Are you agreeing, Aiden?”

Was he?

Lillian’s beauty had bewitched him and they’d wed barely a week before he had been shipped out to the Peninsula. For months he had trailed through the mud and mire of battle, dreaming of returning to her, only to come home to find her pregnant. She had died in childbirth days later. The child had survived.

His son, who wasn’t of his loins, but who carried his name.

Warm fingers tapped at his sleeve and snapped him to attention.

“Aiden?”

Her soft voice dispersed the cloak of bitterness long worn and he drew in one jagged breath after another. He stared into her eyes.

A mistake. They hypnotized him, and throwing caution on the scented breeze, he found himself unable to break the connection.

Her mouth. Kissing her. So sweet. She tasted of…

Fool! Do not be trapped. Be vigilant.

Aiden pulled backward as if stung by a bee.

Marry her?

“Tomorrow, Miss Stanhope, I will visit your uncle at noon to discuss the matter.”

What the hell am I doing?

Spinning on his heels, Aiden stormed down the path, barging through the wide-open French doors and across the ballroom.

Marriage? Dear God, he had to be a fool for considering it—and a fool for not walking away from such temptation.

Escaping the urge to go back and kiss her, he headed out the main doors, nodding toward his waiting driver, noting the man’s surprise.

“My carriage please, Harry.”

He understood his driver’s surprise. It was rare he left these affairs before the early hours of the morning, his intention to garner as much information about Nash “on the ground” as he could. Tonight the clock hadn’t even chimed midnight.

Perhaps he was turning into the male version of Cinderella, he mused. Quite possible! Cinderella married her prince and here he was contemplating marriage—again!

His jaw clenched and he scuffed a boot back and forth across the driveway.

Why marriage? He had to be mad. Had to be.

But—

The carriage drew up, and before Harry could hop down from his seat, Aiden clambered in and slammed the door behind him. He drew the curtain across the carriage window. He had no desire to view the world. Tonight his own demons were enough to contend with.

…

Aware of curious onlookers, Tess gathered her skirts and hurriedly made her way back into the ballroom. At the entrance, her breath hitched.

Where was he?

She scanned the room, ignoring the sly glance of an overly dressed and inebriated young man sidling up to her.

Aiden had left.

“How rude.” Propriety dictated that he at least have the decency to walk her back indoors.
But you are a rogue of the road, Aiden Masters.
So what had she expected?

Tentatively, her fingers slid along the outline of her mouth. She felt his lips still there.

She had not expected his kiss—but in truth she had wanted it. Had imagined it for weeks.

Percy had tried to kiss her once and she had felt nothing but revulsion.

But this? This was different and even now she felt unknown sensations careering through her body, twining into her soul and taking up residence there. And she
would
marry him. He just had to realize there was no way out.

After searching the entire room to no avail, Tess decided it was time for her to leave this tedious event. She had what she wanted.
Hopefully.

Tulip and Luther were seated with Thelma and Freddie Thomas, who had come up from their Malvern estate. Their expressions bore a distinct resemblance to caged lions. Tess offered them a gentle smile of sympathy. “I…ah, have a megrim, Aunt,” she said with added inference as she massaged her temple. “I would like to leave.”

The couple stood up immediately. “Oh, my dear,” Thelma Thomas sighed, “how awful, but of course you must go home straightaway.”

Tess offered her an appreciative smile. At least she understood. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for Tulip, whose lips were pressed tight with disapproval, and Luther’s cheeks reddened by the second.

“Take her home, Mrs. Gibbs,” the woman added, championing Tess. “She needs her bed, I’m sure.” She turned to her husband. “Come along, Freddie. I saw Marjorie Fallsworth talking to Arthur Dunhoven. Time to go and say hello.” And with that she dragged her husband away who offered no protest whatsoever.

“Stupid girl,” Luther hissed, his alcohol-soaked sour breath assaulting her nostrils. “I had nearly succeeded.”

Delight that she’d ruined his plans couldn’t be squashed, though she offered a meekly innocent smile. “In doing what, Uncle?”

“In making a business connection. Thomas has made a fortune in wool. I could have wangled a way in.”

“Don’t fret, Luther,” said Tess’s aunt. “There’ll be another time.”

“Be quiet, woman.” Luther scowled. “It’s your fault.” He grabbed Tess’s left arm, nails digging into her flesh as he wrenched her up close. “You’ve left us no option now. If we do not take you home we’ll look—”

“Uncaring.” Tess tried to smile, but flagrant fear tightened a cord of steel across her chest. Luther snorted, tipped his head back and guzzled the remains of his drink in one long gulp, belching as he placed his glass on a nearby table.

Tess shook her head, buoyed by a growing sense of purpose. She wrenched herself from his hold and turned swiftly away, catching Thelma’s wink. At least she had one person in her corner. Soon it would be two—hopefully.

She could do this.

She was strong—stronger than Luther realized, and if she were truthful, stronger than she herself had believed possible. She would not let Luther destroy her soul as he had done to Tulip, or wither her will to survive. She would not let him win. Time. It was all about choosing the right time. The time was now and she’d realized the perfect plan.

The journey home proved strained. Luther sat moodily silent while Tulip prattled on about who had attended the gathering, denouncing the worst dressed and offering high praise for the most fashionable.

Just as they rounded the corner into St. James Square and drew up outside the house, Tess spoke up. “I have an announcement.”

Tulip’s monologue ceased, a wave of concern washing across her eyes.

Luther simply harrumphed, but shifted to face her. “Are you going into a nunnery? The papists and their endless praying would surely staunch your willful ways.”

Tess pushed her shoulders back, linking her fingers in front of her, aware of their slight shake.

Remember you’re strong, Tess. You can do this.

“No, Uncle,” she said, determined not to offer a hint of uncertainty in her tone. “I’m not, but if I did I wouldn’t be of any use to you. You need my money—what there is left of it.” Tess almost believed that her mother was on her shoulder, offering a silent cheer. She straightened and refused to weaken. “In a few days, you will no longer have to worry about me for I have found a man I intend to marry.”

Luther slapped a podgy hand on his thigh. “About bloody time. Does he have money?”

Only stolen.

“I have no idea.”

“What?” His hands fisted. “You stupid girl. You’re meant to find a wealthy husband, not some pauper who has not a farthing to his name.”

“That is too bad, Uncle, because I have made my decision. It is this man or no one. I would have thought you would prefer I was out of your sight.”

“Oh, my dear.” Tulip beamed, reached forward and took Tess’s hands in her icy ones. “I’m so excited. We shall have a wonderful time planning it all. Who is it? You must tell.”

Tess stared at her aunt. Had the woman not heard a word of her conversation with Luther? She took several breaths to steady her nerves. “Tomorrow Aiden Masters will come to speak to you.”

“Him!” Luther gawped, his fleshy jowls wobbling. “You will not marry him. Not on my bloody life will he step into my home. The man is a cad.”