To Tempt A Rogue (24 page)

“I am merely imitating your actions.” Harriet lifted her head. “Did I do it wrong?”

Nathaniel dragged in a huge breath and flipped her on her back. “You did it most deliciously right, Harriet, but I have other things I'd like to try first.”

“You do?”

One look at her lovely face, glowing with excitement and anticipation and Nathaniel knew he could no longer hold back the fierce desire which had completely possessed him.

“I have saved the best until I felt you were ready.” He kissed her hard on her lips, then raised his knee and pushed it between hers, parting her thighs, spreading her legs so he could settle between them. Nathaniel braced above her, supporting his weight on his forearms, trapping her gaze with his own. “You are mine,” he declared, thrusting powerfully.

He heard her sharp intake of breath, but it did not slow him down. He thrust again and felt the fleeting resistance of her maidenhead give way. She was wet with desire, hot with wanting, yet impossibly tight.

He bent his head and touched his lips to hers. She blinked, then let out a long, shuddering breath. Her breasts swelled against his chest and the ache inside him increased. Nathaniel raised himself above her, then thrust forward. Harriet gasped, then instinctively relaxed as he deepened the penetration. He had never been an overly patient man and he wanted and needed her too desperately to hold himself back.

He breathed a throaty endearment into her ear, telling her how good she tasted. His words seemed to distract her from the temporary discomfort. Harriet's fists closed tightly around the muscles of his upper arm, just as her inner flesh accepted the pulsing length of his shaft.

He filled her with deep, heavy surges. She made a sound of surprise and clung to him, her eyes widening.

“Hook your legs around my waist and draw yourself closer,” he whispered. “Then relax your body and let me do the work.”

Harriet's movements were awkward and disjointed and Nathaniel was unsure she had heard his demand. He pushed his hips hard against hers. Her head thrashed and she whimpered as her body rose with his.

“Show me,” Harriet cried out in frustration. Nathaniel grabbed her knees, dragged her body closer, and guided her legs around him.

The room was soon filled with the sounds of their labored breathing and low moans. Flexing his hips, Nathaniel thrust harder. Harriet let out a choked whimper and surged towards him. She called out his name and he knew she had reached her pleasure. He held himself perfectly still, cherishing the exquisite moment, feeling her quiver around him, the hot spasms pulling him deeper into her warmth.

Nathaniel knew his own passion was close to a blinding culmination, but he wanted to hold it off, to savor this moment of sheer perfection. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to hold back the fierce desire which seemed to possess him, but it was impossible.

Moaning, he buried his face in the curve of her neck. Clutching her hips, he entered her again with long, decisive, possessive thrusts. Shuddering violently, Nathaniel spent himself inside her, his seed spurting forth, claiming her in the most basic way.

He held himself in place even after the spasms had passed, treasuring the incredible sensation. A feeling of rightness settled over him. Never before had an interlude with a woman created such intense emotions, such physical perfection. And she was only a novice! Who knew what heights they would reach once he had an opportunity to tutor her.

They were both breathing in long gasps, labored, heavy and erratic. Nathaniel flipped himself onto his back, and instantly felt bereft. He hauled Harriet into the crook of his neck and nuzzled her cheek. A great wave of protectiveness flowed over him and he felt the need to protect her always, to provide physical and emotional comfort whenever she was in need.

He dozed briefly, exhaustion overtaking him. When he awoke, Harriet's body was curled around his. Turning Harriet's face towards him, Nathaniel smoothed the hair back from her forehead. She opened her eyes, then lowered her gaze and stifled a yawn.

“Tired?” he asked.

She shook her head, lifted her head and stared at him with a soft, contented gaze. He liked the drowsy, well-pleasured smile that curved her lips. Liked it even more, knowing he was the one who put it there.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“It hurt a bit more than I expected.” She rifled her fingers through the mat of dark hair on his chest “ 'Tis a curious sensation, having part of someone else's body inside your own.”

Nathaniel smiled. Leave it to Harriet to discuss the physical aspects of their union first, setting aside the emotional and spiritual connection. Since his brain was too mellow to function he would allow it. At present.

“Any regrets?” he asked.

She shifted her position and her lips brushed his ear. Then she caught his earlobe between her teeth and suckled gently.

“Dare I assume that means you are content?”

“You may,” she replied with a laugh.

There was a protracted pause. Nathaniel placed his hand between her thighs. Thanks to her playful petting, he was rapidly developing another erection. “How do you feel? Are you terribly sore?”

She buried her head in his shoulder, but not before he saw the telltale flush of red in her cheeks. “How shockingly intimate we have become in so short a time,” she said primly. Lifting her head, she flashed him a wicked wink, then began to nibble on his chest. “I find I rather like it.”

 

 

Propping herself up on one arm, Harriet studied her handsome lover with unabashed delight. The shadow of his beard gave him a ruthless look, but she knew his masculine power was tempered by a good and gentle heart. His chest was moving with regular rhythm, but she felt too energized to join him in sleep.

Harriet moved her legs restlessly, hoping the action might disturb his rest. Yet with the movement she felt her body ache in places she never imagined could ache. It didn't matter. These strange sensations had brought her boundless joy, for they proved she was a thoroughly loved woman.

It was late, or rather early in the morning. She knew she should let him sleep, but it was somehow impossible to keep her hands from touching him. Anywhere. Everywhere. She ran her fingertips lightly across Nathaniel's nose. It twitched. Charmed, she did it again, then blew a wisp of breath strong enough to ruffle the hair that had fallen over his forehead.

“Stop it,” a deep voice admonished.

“Oh, you're awake. Wonderful.”

Nathaniel's' eyes opened. “And why aren't you sound asleep? You should be faint with exhaustion after all that rigorous exercise.”

“Well, I am not.”

“Should I feel insulted?” Humor lit his gaze.

“I don't know.” She tilted her head and gave him a saucy stare. “You are, after all, my first lover, so I can make no comparison. Perhaps a younger man would be a more suitable choice for my passionate nature.”

“There will be no other in your bed, save me, and don't you dare to forget it.” As if to emphasis the point, Nathaniel gripped her firmly around the waist.

Her heart leapt at his declaration. Yet she knew there were far more important matters that needed to be settled before they could devote their complete attention to their ripening relationship.

“Now that I have truly ruined everything, how do you suggest we escape from the Highlands without getting caught?”

Nathaniel's lips brushed against her forehead. “You haven't ruined things, Harriet. You have just managed to make life a wee bit more challenging.”

“Do not joke about this Nathaniel. I am upset enough without you making me feel worse.”

He lifted his head off the pillow. “We both agreed that casting blame would serve no useful purpose. And I do share the responsibility.”

“Yes, but not equally.”

“Fine. This time you win the prize for being the bigger fool. I daresay next time it will be me.”

Harriet stretched out her legs, curling her toes. She knew she bore the brunt of guilt, but Nathaniel was right. Whining over it was just a waste of time. “We cannot let your uncle find the children. I agree our best chance is with Duncan in Edinburgh, yet I hesitate to leave the castle. Perhaps it would be better to hide out here than risk getting caught on the road?”

Nathaniel sighed and ran his hand lightly down her back. “Hillsdale Castle is very isolated. I have no wish to confront my uncle or a gang of Bow Street Runners without a lot of witnesses. I think my original plan of seeking refuge with Duncan is the best decision. In fact, if at all possible we should leave today.”

“I too have been thinking about the journey,” Harriet said. Nathaniel's hand strayed to the top of her breast and began to inch its way toward her nipple. Harriet's pulse sped up and she lost her thoughts. Grabbing his wrist, she pulled his hand off her bosom and placed it on her shoulder. “We should travel to Edinburgh disguised as a family. A prosperous merchant, his wife, and three children. It might make our trail harder for the runners to follow.”

“It might.”

Nathaniel started the swirling rhythm again, this time with the tip of his finger on a delicate spot behind her ear. Harriet swallowed hard and tried to force her brain to concentrate. “The children and I have been studying Scottish history and it has given me a rather radical idea.”

“I've never known you to have any other kind.” Harriet frowned, deciding to let that comment pass. Besides, his talented hands were once again on the move, heading down her side towards the top of her thighs. “The children have been especially taken with any stories of courage and bravery. We recently read an account of Flora MacDonald, a great Scottish heroine. Apparently she saved the young Pretender's life after the defeat at Culloden by dressing him as her maid. In spite of the enormous reward of 30,000 pounds, no Highlander betrayed the prince.”

“Such is the loyalty of the Scots,” Nathaniel remarked. “For one of their own.”

“Well, I think we should borrow from their example of dressing a man as a maid.”

Nathaniel's hand ceased all movement. “You want me to dress as a maid?”

Harriet burst out laughing. “Lord, now that would be a sight! I believe I would pay 30,000 pounds to see you in an apron and mobcap.”

“Even for the safety of the children, there is no way that I—”

“Oh, calm down.” She giggled once more. “If there are runners scouring the countryside, they will be looking for someone traveling with two girls and one young boy. However, if we take a page from Scottish history and dress Gregory in a simple gown, we can pose as a merchant family traveling with their three daughters. If we are unlucky enough to encounter anyone searching for us, it might render us beyond their notice.”

“Dress Gregory as a girl? Won't that scar him for life?”

Harriet wrinkled her brow. “Well, McTate wears a skirt and he seems none the worse for wear.”

“Be serious.”

“I am.” Harriet lifted her gaze to his. “You can talk as much as you like about sharing the blame for this mess, but I do feel a keen sense of responsibility and I need to do everything within my power to set it to rights.”

“Then we shall try this plan.” Nathaniel turned his head and glanced out the window. “ 'Tis dark outside, but dawn cannot be far away. Will it take you long to be ready?”

“We will need a few hours to prepare Gregory's new wardrobe. I am certain I can fashion one or two of Jeanne Marie's simpler gowns to fit him.” Harriet grimaced. “Of course the real challenge will be convincing him to wear the dress.”

“We might have to bribe him,” Nathaniel agreed. “Do you think he would accept a bank draft?”

Harriet let out a loud giggle and punched Nathaniel playfully on the chest. He grabbed her arm and held her so she could not land another blow. They tussled briefly on the bed and Harriet soon found herself pinned beneath her lover.

His eyes heated to darkness. He began nibbling, then lightly sucking the tips of her fingers. The strange action made her feel restless and was stirring up excitement in the oddest places.

Her breath hissed from between her teeth. “What are you doing?”

She caught a glimpse of his sly grin of triumph just before he rolled her onto her back and covered her with his body. “We have hours till dawn,” he said. “Let's make the most of it.”

Jerome Brockhurst did not particularly like horses nor riding on horseback for an extended period of time. As a Bow Street Runner, his normal territory encompassed the streets of London and his normal mode of transportation was on foot or if the distance was far and time of the essence, a hired hackney.

He was familiar and comfortable with London's back streets and rookeries, the criminal haunts and seedier areas that teemed with swarms of people packed into ramshackle buildings. He relied on a network of informants and a brotherhood of fellow runners to solve his cases and apprehend the criminals responsible for those crimes.

Aside from taking pride in a job well done, Jerome often felt a great deal of personal satisfaction from setting certain wrongs to right, of ensuring that justice and fair play prevailed at the end of the day. It was part of the reason he became a runner in the first place and part of the reason why he continued in this dangerous profession.

He had been selected personally by the chief magistrate to handle Lord Bridwell's unusual case and from the beginning there had been many elements that had troubled him. Cases involving young children were rare, events of kidnapping by a relative even more of an oddity. Jerome knew there were important facts about this incident that Lord Bridwell was desperately trying to hide and that had hindered the runner's progress and heightened his suspicions.

He had been instructed by Lord Bridwell to keep a close eye on the household servants, particularly the housekeeper, Mrs. Hutchinson. Jerome did so with extreme reluctance, feeling it was a waste of time to pester the woman. Yet amazingly a clue was uncovered when purely by chance, he intercepted a letter addressed to the housekeeper.

Jerome was honest enough to admit it was more a result of fate than skill that he even saw the letter. He was leaving Lord Bridwell's home at the exact moment a young soldier, with a thick Scottish burr, mistakenly came to the front door asking for Mrs. Hutchinson. Before the lad could be directed to the servants' entrance, Jerome had accepted the letter, read it, reported its contents to Lord Bridwell and informed his lordship he would start preparations for the journey north immediately.

Jerome's initial suspicion was that the letter might be a hoax, some form of trickery designed to put any investigators off the scent, but further conversation with the housekeeper confirmed the existence of the much beloved doll mentioned in the correspondence. Additionally, the runner had discovered papers within the mansion that shed new light on the intricacies of the case.

So armed with this knowledge, and an even further commitment to see justice done, Jerome set out for the Highlands. He had been riding for days, as his sore backside would attest, and was heartily sick of fresh air, large mountains and suspicious villagers.

Still, he pressed on. Time was of the essence and there were no guarantees the children would be at the castle when he finally arrived. Lord Avery had proven himself to be a clever foe, though clearly he had made a very wrong choice when employing a governess.

On this day, an early start and sunny skies had done little to lift Jerome's spirits. By day's end he was even more discouraged, for he had not traveled as many miles as he had planned. Yet it would be foolish and unsafe to travel these unknown roads at night. Fortunately an inn came into sight in the bottom of the valley, nestled beside a small lake. Welcoming lights gleamed in the windows and smoke curled in great billowing clouds from the chimneys.

The scent of freshly cooked meat and other culinary aromas drifted through the evening air. Jerome licked his lips hungrily, hoping there would be room for him in this quaint establishment.

He guided his horse cautiously into the graveled yard and swung down from the saddle. A lad hurried over to attend him.

“Hallo, sir. Are ye 'ere fer a meal or will ye be stayin' the night?”

“I need a bed and my horse badly needs rest.” Jerome replied. He unfastened one of the saddlebags and removed the satchel that contained his personal items and a few clean clothes. He flipped the lad a coin, instructing him to feed the horse a substantial dinner and settle the animal comfortably in a stall for the night.

A pleasant commotion greeted Jerome when he entered the inn through the brightly painted yellow door. The taproom was crowded, most likely with local men eager for a night of companionship and hearty ale. As a lone male traveler he attracted little attention, until he opened his mouth. Though he tried to keep his tone low when inquiring after a room, his broad English accent attracted the notice of many.

The noise of conversation dimmed and several guests craned their necks to have a look at him. Jerome straightened himself up to his full height and frowned at the staring men. It took a few tense seconds for them to give up the intimidation game and turn their attention back to their drinks, dinner, and conversation.

Jerome took his time making arrangements for his room, hoping to engage the innkeeper in conversation. He had learned over the years it was far easier to solicit information when the individual you were questioning had no idea the information was of value.

However, the runner soon discovered the barrel-chested Scot who owned the inn was not the type to engage in idle chatter.

“Who did ye say ye were lookin' fer?” the innkeeper asked in a suspicious tone.

“Ah well, there's the rub,” Jerome replied. “I'm hoping to find Lord Avery, but you know how queer the aristocracy can be at times. He might not be using his title on this journey. But he wouldn't be difficult to spot, since he's traveling with three young children, two girls and a lad.”

Casually Jerome slid twice the price of the room across the worn oak counter. The innkeeper's eye lit up and he reached eagerly for the coins, but the runner quickly snatched them back.

“Have you seen them?”

The innkeeper darted a look in Jerome's direction. “What's this feller done?”

“Nothing.” Jerome could feel the innkeeper watching him very closely. “I have news I know Lord Avery will be eager to receive. A great-aunt has remembered him most kindly in her will.” He smiled and patted the breast coat of his pocket. “In addition to the modest wage I'm earning for this job, I'm hoping his lordship will reward the man who brings him word of his sudden good fortune.”

Understanding creased the innkeeper's brow, then he scowled. “No, I hadna seen him nor the wee bairns.”

Jerome nodded and pushed the coins back across the counter. All of them. Since he needed the rest he intended to sleep soundly tonight. There was no sense in putting his neck in jeopardy by annoying the innkeeper. Besides, Lord Bridwell was paying all the expenses for this journey.

Craving privacy, Jerome had his meal sent to his room. It was delivered by a buxom tavern wench who was clearly disappointed when he thanked her politely and sent her away, even after she went to the trouble of thrusting her breasts nearly in his face to show her interest. Jerome held no illusions about his masculine appeal—he assumed the woman had heard about his payment to the innkeeper and was hoping to supplement her income.

He quickly ate the surprisingly tasty meal of beefsteak, pigeon pie, potatoes, and stewed cucumber, washing it all down with a half bottle of tolerable wine. His belly full, Jerome made good use of the water provided in the washstand to scrub away the day's grime.

He packed away his soiled garments and pulled out a clean shirt for tomorrow's journey, knowing it would be important to leave at first light. It was such a great relief to be off his horse for a few hours that he barely noticed the lumpy mattress and less than pristine sheets when he crawled into the bed.

For safety's sake, Jerome slept with the papers he carried beneath his pillow, uneasy with the thought of having them out of his possession. This was among the more interesting and challenging cases he had ever undertaken, and as his eyes drifted closed the runner could not help but wonder how Lord Avery would react when he arrived on the doorstep of Hillsdale Castle.

 

 

“I won't wear it. It's for girls.”

“Come on, Gregory, it will be fun,” Nathaniel cajoled with an encouraging grin. “If you put the frock on we can go down to the kitchen and play a trick on Mrs. Mullins. She'll never guess that it is you.”

For a few seconds the child seemed to be considering the notion. Then his eyes darkened and he shook his head emphatically. “No! I won't do it!”

Harriet pinched the bridge of her nose and pondered the best way to handle the situation. On one hand, she could not blame the child for feeling awkward about putting on the gown, yet the disguise would certainly be of benefit to all of them.

On the other, it seemed cruel to force him. And while the disguise would be a help, it certainly wasn't a necessity. Perhaps if Gregory understood the gravity of the situation it would be easier to obtain his cooperation, but neither Harriet nor Nathaniel were about to frighten the child with the truth.

“Do you remember the daring story we read about Bonnie Prince Charlie and his escape from Culloden?” Harriet asked.

Gregory wrinkled his brow. “The lady saved him.” “Exactly. But the prince was very brave and very clever. He dressed up like a maid to fool the men who were chasing him and thus avoided being captured. Don't you think it would be fun to be like him?”

“Will everyone else dress up?”

“Ah, no, not today,” Nathaniel replied. “Perhaps later.”

“After we arrive at Uncle Duncan's house in Edinburgh,” Harriet added, not wanting to mislead the child into thinking the following day they would all be wearing odd clothing.

“I don't want to play this game and act like that Scottish man,” Gregory decided. “Uncle Nathaniel tells me all the time that I am an English gentleman.”

“That's right, you are,” Harriet said. “I bet you never even knew there was another Prince Charles who was said to have escaped right beneath the nose of Cromwell's troops dressed as a lady.”

“He later became king,” Nathaniel interjected. “Of England.”

“Was he the one that got his head chopped off?” Phoebe asked.

“No, that was his father, King Charles I,” Harriet answered distractedly.

Nathaniel made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. “My God, what are you teaching these children?”

“The truth.” Harriet shushed him with a hard look and turned her attention back to Gregory. The gown she had altered for the little boy to wear was extremely plain, with no lace or ribbons or bows. She held it up to show him, explaining how easy it would be to put on.

“Give it a try, Gregory.” She smiled hopefully. “You'll be just like the princes.”

A shadow crossed his face. “But I'm not a prince. I'm a duke.”

Nathaniel let out an exasperated groan. “He can be amazingly stubborn at times.”

“It must be a family trait,” Harriet muttered, then shook her head. “Clearly the child has made up his mind. I don't think we should force him.”

“I agree.” Nathaniel regarded his nieces for a moment, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “Maybe it would be easier to dress the girls as lads. They are far more cooperative than Gregory and traveling with three young sons would still lend us some type of disguise.”

Harriet worried her bottom lip. She had already wasted an hour this morning altering the gown for Gregory. If they were to pose as a merchant family, the clothes the children wore must be of good quality. “We have no appropriate male clothing to alter for the girls and no time to make new garments.”

“Maybe we can purchase something in the village?” Nathaniel suggested.

“I have not ventured into town, nor seen any of the shops, yet I doubt there are any ready-made clothes to buy that would suit our purposes.”

“Then I'll ask Mrs. Mullins if she has any ideas.” Harriet frowned skeptically. “Housekeeper, chief cook, and now clothes merchant. Is there anything Mrs. Mullins cannot do?”

“Speak so we understand her?” Nathaniel quipped.

When they entered the kitchen, Mrs. Mullins rose from her chair and set her knitting basket on the floor. She listened carefully to their most unusual request, her shrewd eyes contorting with curiosity. But the housekeeper did not ask why they needed the garments and within the hour provided exactly what was needed: two changes of clothing for each girl.

“Wherever did you find these?” Harriet asked in amazement as she examined the garments.

“I dinna have tae ask twice,” Mrs. Mullins replied proudly. “Many village families were eager tae lend a hand, 'specially when they knew it was fer the young lasses who were so generous in sharin' their dolls. We dinna forget a kindness.”

“We thank you most sincerely, Mrs. Mullins. And please express our gratitude to those who were so willing to aid us in our time of need.”

Unlike their brother, Phoebe and Jeanne Marie were excited to try on the outfits. They pranced and paraded in front of Harriet, mimicking Gregory's, Nathaniel's, and even Duncan McTate's proud male stance. Their antics put a much needed smile on Harriet's face, but she cautioned the girls repeatedly it would be best if they kept quietly in the background whenever they encountered other travelers.

They left the castle far later than originally planned, but the weather was clear and it seemed prudent to take advantage of the dry roads rather than wait until morning. Harriet, a nursemaid, and the three children rode in the coach while Nathaniel traveled beside them, mounted on a fine bay mare.

As the coach rumbled across the wooden drawbridge, Harriet turned for one final look at the ancient castle. It glimmered in the brilliant sunshine, a solid tower of strength and pride. Harriet felt a strange tug at her heart, realizing she was going to miss living within those ancient walls. Given the vagaries of life, she wondered fleetingly if she would ever have an opportunity to set eyes on it again.