She nodded, but he could see the green enter her pallor even before he took her hand and helped her into the tiny craft. She situated herself in the back of the boat to create stability and he took his place at the oars. With a quick push they were off, and he angled them in the right direction, toward the shores of Scotland, which they could already see on the faint horizon.
“Luckily there’s a current and a wind at our back that will help our journey,” he said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.
She forced a small smile, but he could still see concern in the expression on her pale face. She clenched her hands in her lap and stared off toward their destination, and they were quiet for a while as the waves rocked them none too gently.
The green increased in her cheeks and she gasped for fresh air after half an hour had passed. She shook her head. “I think talking might help.”
He almost laughed. He’d spent a year talking to no one, and here came this woman who expected his chatter. And he didn’t hate it, truth be told. He liked talking to her, even if they were from vastly different worlds and should have had little to say to each other.
“What is the plan?” she asked, making a sick, garbled sound in her throat.
He rowed harder, hoping speed might reduce her discomfort. “We’ll reach the mainland in twenty minutes at this pace. There’s a small village there, and if we’re lucky we’ll catch the stagecoach coming through.”
“If we’re lucky?” she asked, drawing deep breaths between each word and turning her face into the breeze so it stirred her dark blonde hair.
He nodded. “Out in the wilds, there’s no telling the schedule from one day to the next.”
“How long will our journey take then?” she asked.
He hesitated. In some ways he’d hoped she wouldn’t ask this question. The answer was going to crush her. “It might be as long as a couple of weeks,” he admitted at last. “With the weather, the state of the roads and schedules put into place that are out of our control.”
Tears filled her eyes. He saw them before she blinked them away. Then she looked at him from the corner of her green gaze. “I-I hate to ask, as it seems very rude, but how will we pay for our fare on the coach? Or rooms at the inns at night?”
He pursed his lips. “I don’t have a great deal of ready money, but there is some. Enough to pay for cheap rooms and cheaper fare on our route.”
She bent her head. “I have all but destroyed your life, I think.”
He wrinkled his brow before he leaned forward. He wanted to cup her chin. To force her to look up at him. He couldn’t because of the oars. But his movement made her dart her gaze toward him anyway.
“It’s not your fault,” he said. The words seemed to ease her a little, for her tense shoulders relaxed at last.
“I’ll pay you back,” she promised softly. “Keep a daily tally of your expenses and I’ll be certain you receive back your costs for the trip along with any reward I can squeeze out of my father.”
He opened his mouth to argue that, but she held up a hand as if she could read his mind. Or at least his expression. “Please,” she said before he could speak. “Don’t make me your charity. I couldn’t bear that kind of pity. Let me pay you back in some way for your kindness.”
He turned his face as he rowed harder, so she wouldn’t see that the kind of payment he wanted wasn’t blunt. It was something else, something far more inappropriate and wrong, given the circumstances.
He shrugged at last. “Fine. We’ll come to terms when we reach your father.”
She seemed satisfied with that answer and was distracted from further conversation as the small town of Tayport, which was ten miles west up the coast from Southerness, rose up in the distance. She sat up straighter as they rowed into the small port, which was more sheltered than the open sea, so the boat didn’t rock quite so hard. She smiled at him as she looked at the brightly colored houses and busy shops which dotted the shore.
At last they reached a low dock, where a man rushed up to take the rope and secure them. Her expression was almost conspiratorial as she waited for the boat to be steady. Like they were in this together, even though Rook knew that was an illusion. She needed him to get home. That was all there was between them.
It was all there could ever be. So he didn’t return her smile. He just got up and got out of the boat, helping her do the same before he released her and motioned to the bustle around them.
“Welcome to Tayport,” he grunted. “Come on.”
Her smile fell as she followed him into the town proper. He felt her confusion at his sudden shift in attitude, and he hated himself for it. But it was better for them both. He just had to remember that.
* * *
Anne’s stomach had stopping rolling the moment she stepped off the boat onto dry land, but now it tightened and turned again at Rook’s sharp tone and dismissive glance in her direction. She knew she was putting him out, of course. How could she not be? He didn’t want to haul her all the way to Gretna Green just because she was too foolish not to see the lie in his cousin’s eyes.
And now he resented her, despite any promise of money as a reward for her return. That bothered her more than it should, since she barely knew the man. It only felt like she did, an illusion she’d clung to and now realized she had to let go.
Whatever she thought was between them, it was clear it didn’t exist. She had to stop making a cake of herself and focus on getting home.
Like Rook seemed to be at present. He was currently standing with the driver of the stagecoach, which had pulled up almost immediately after their arrival on the boat. He handed over coins to the man—she couldn’t see how many—and tossed over their bags to be loaded at the top of the rig before he waved her toward him.
She followed the crook of his finger and tried to smile as she reached him.
“We’re in luck. There was a couple getting off here in Tayport, so he has a spot in the stage for us.”
Relief flooded her. “You see, it’s a good sign for the journey. How long until we depart?”
His lips pressed together, though she didn’t understand the reason for his apparent annoyance. The sooner they got going, the sooner he would be rid of her. It made sense he would want that. Didn’t it?
“They’ll stay here a while longer to change the horses and let the others eat and stretch their legs, and we’ll be off.”
“It will be afternoon by the time we head out, then?” she asked.
He nodded. “Yes.”
She frowned. “And how far do you think we’ll go before we stop again?”
He arched a brow, and she couldn’t tell if he was further irritated by her question or not. “It won’t be far, I admit. The stage is the slowest route—they stop often for passengers to rest or eat and get off. But it’s cheapest and safer than the mail coach.”
“Safer?” she repeated in confusion.
He gazed off in the distance up the road. “Bandits,” he said simply. “They know the mail coach carries valuable cargo.”
Anne shivered at the thought. She’d always ridden in her father’s private carriage or barouche if they were in town. The driver could make his own schedule as to their family needs and the ability to trade horses. She’d never taken public transit before with its restrictions and limits and money involved.
She felt so sheltered, so spoiled whenever she talked to Rook about the reality of those around her. As if she’d been completely blind to the world until she met him. In truth, she had been. Now she looked around the little port town, with its brightly painted shops and people of all sizes and shapes and colors entering and exiting the buildings, talking on the street in rich accents and different languages.
Her world felt very small in comparison.
“Come, we’ll eat your lunch supplies at that table by the dock there. It’s not raining, so we should take advantage of the fresh air while we can get it.”
She followed him to a worn wooden table tha
t faced out to the sea. He drew out the bundle of food she’d packed that morning and laid it out before them. Then he smiled. “We can afford one more thing. I’ll be back.”
He rushed off, leaving her alone for a moment. She stared out to sea, toward where she knew her family waited. Or at least, she hoped they waited. What if they had left Harcourt once her plan had been revealed? What if Harcourt had sent them away? It was possible she would reach her destination and not have anyplace to go. She’d have to find her own way to London then.
A dangerous prospect, indeed.
“You look as though you’re waiting for the coach. Are you new passengers?”
Anne glanced up to see a man dressed in a bright waistcoat with a pretty lady on his arm. She was wearing a rather low-cut gown, but she had a nice smile as she looked down at Anne and her picnic.
“Er, yes,” Anne said, thinking of the ruse Rook had suggested they’d follow on the road before she continued, “My—my husband and I just bought passage.”
“The tall, handsome one who passed us a moment ago?” the lady purred as the two plopped down at their table without asking Anne’s leave. “What a lucky lady.”
Anne shifted, pulling her food from the middle as her new “friends” began to unpack their own meal and spread it out across from her. “I’m Herman Talon, at your service. This is my wife Imogen.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Anne said with a smile for the lady. “Anne Sh—Maitland.”
“Shmaitland? That’s an odd name,” Mr. Talon said with a laugh and an elbow for his wife.
Anne shook her head and was about to correct him when Rook flopped into the seat next to her. “That’s because Anne is still getting accustomed to being Mrs. Maitland,” he explained with a chuckle as he slung an arm around her shoulders. The weight of it sank into her body and the heat of him seemed to warm her from head to toe. “She’s always trying to use her maiden name.”
She blushed and it wasn’t forced. “Yes, silly me.”
“It’s very good, my love,” he said softly. “Our new friends forgive you, I’m sure, as do I. Constantine Maitland, at your service,” he said, holding a hand out to Mr. Talon.
She jerked at the given name he used. Constantine Maitland. Was that his real name? The one he’d avoided giving her all this time? She let it roll around in her head. It was such a big name. So formal and regal. She’d not expected it.
“What do you think, Anne?”
She jerked at Rook’s question, spoken close to her ear. She blinked as she realized Mr. and Mrs. Talon had introduced themselves and Rook had been talking to them while she lost herself in thought about his name.
“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I was woolgathering,” she admitted with a blush.
Rook pointed at the bottle of wine she hadn’t realized he’d set on the table at some point during the conversation. “I said I thought you’d be happy to share our wine with our new friends.”
She nodded. “Of course.”
He made quick with opening the bottle and pouring into two glasses as Mrs. Talon rushed into the shop and came back with two more.
“To new friends,” Mr. Talon toasted as he lifted his now-full glass. They clinked and as she drank, Anne felt the man’s eyes sweep over her. Rook’s fingers tightened on her shoulder as if he saw it too. She inched a little closer to his side.
“What business are you in, Talon?” Rook asked.
She watched him as the two men talked. He was different here with these strangers. His accent was heavier, harder, and he was more gregarious. It was like he was playing a game, and she wondered what part of Ellis’s schemes he’d performed in the past. Not just a powerful brute, it seemed.
They talked for a while. Although the Talons were nice enough, she found herself nervous around them. She didn’t look forward to a long ride in the carriage with them. It would be so close and warm and Mr. Talon never seemed to stop speaking.
Soon enough they finished their meal and wine and everyone got up to stretch their legs.
“They’ll be loading up soon,” Talon said, shifting his head toward the coach. “You coming?”
“We’ll be sitting long enough soon,” Rook said, sliding Anne’s hand into the crook of his elbow. “I think my wife and I will take a short walk before we join you.”
“Very good.” The other couple walked away.
As soon as they were gone, Rook’s smile fell and he watched them closely. “Stay away from them,” he said softly. “Don’t be alone with them.”
She tilted her head as he guided her away from the coach and toward the path of the dock. “Why? They seem harmless enough, don’t they? Just noisy.”
He faced her, his dark eyes serious and intense on hers. “I know how to spot harmless. This isn’t.”
Her eyes felt wide as saucers as she glanced over her shoulder at the retreating backs of their former companions. “What could be the danger?”
Rook shifted like he was uncomfortable and then he ground out, “I’m fairly certain Talon collects women for entertainment. That’s certainly not his wife. I swear I recognize her from certain kinds of shows in London. She might have been brought up to Scotland as a private entertainment for some rich man, with Talon as her escort…and ‘protector’.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Oh.”
“Yes. You’ll be safe with me, but just…don’t tell them too much about yourself. I wish we’d given another name than my own, honestly. He might know my cousin. Ellis involved himself with men like that…men worse than that…at one time.”
She was nervous now about the ride with these potentially dangerous strangers and trying to stifle that response. “Did you give your real name? Constantine?”
He stopped walking and looked off into the distance. “My name is Rook, I told you that.”
“That isn’t the name you were given at birth,” she said softly. “But the other is, isn’t it?”
“I go by Rook,” he said once more, and turned her toward the coach. “And they’re loading the carriage, so we’d best go back.”
She didn’t press and allowed him to guide her back to the carriage and their supposed new friends. But she realized she’d seen two things that afternoon: a glimpse of the real Rook Maitland, and a glimpse of the man he’d pretended to be. And she wanted to know more about them both.
* * *
Rook walked up the narrow, smoky staircase in a cheap inn hours later, a frown on his face. It had been a very long afternoon in the coach. It stopped too often, it carried too many and it smelled vaguely of fish. Not to mention their friendly companions.
Talon and his “wife” had hardly drawn breath the entire ride. The man had dropped enough hints that Rook was more convinced than ever that they were a couple who ran a bawdy house in one of the cities and were out collecting ladies who would be open to such a place as an escape from whatever hell they were currently living in. It was a trick he’d seen before, performed by a different man. A very dangerous one. One who’d been the reason Rook had walked away from his cousin.
He hated how interested Talon was in Anne.
He hated everything about the day for Anne, honestly. She’d been quiet, she’d never complained, but he could tell she was overwhelmed by exposure to a rougher, louder life she’d never probably imagined, let alone lived.
She’d gone up to their room a while earlier. He’d arranged for a bath to be drawn for her and had stayed behind to give her privacy. Now he followed and tried very hard not to think about what he would find there in what was certainly going to be a tiny chamber that he would share with a beautiful, alluring lady he shouldn’t touch.
The one he wanted to touch so much that his fingertips itched every time he got near her.
He sighed as he paused at the chamber door and tried to pull himself together. After a few breaths, he knocked.
There was rustling on the other side of the door, and then she opened it a crack. He caught his breath as she pulled the door wider to al
low him entry.
Her hair was down. Wild, dark blonde waves bounced around her shoulders and covered up the demure nightrail she had changed into after she left him downstairs. Her hair looked soft and he could already smell it—roses, he thought, probably infused in the soap at the edge of the tub that had been placed behind the screen in the corner of the very tiny room.
Too tiny for two unless they were intimate, indeed. A narrow bed was pushed against the wall on one side of the room. Against the other were a settee and a table for tea. The tub and screen took up the corner beside the fire, and that was all there was.
A room meant for one person or a romantic couple. There would be no escape for him. No respite from being so close to her.
“Thank you for the bath,” she said. “I hope it won’t be too cold for you.”
He shuddered as he thought of sinking beneath the waves of the water where she had washed herself a short time before. Perhaps a cold bath was best, after all.
“I’m certain it will be fine,” he said, his voice rough with the desire he was having a hard time hiding now. If she looked down, she’d see evidence of it pushing out his trousers and making it hard to think because all the blood in his body was bent on reminding him that she was so damned close.
She took a step closer to him, worrying her hands in front of her. Her chest rose and fell on short breaths, her pupils were dilated and her cheeks flushed as she whispered, “Thank you for coming with me.”
He tilted his head. “What is there to thank me for?”
“I-I couldn’t have managed on my own,” she said with a shake of her head. “I needed you.” She worried her lip with her teeth and he was lost. “I need you.”
It was too much. Even a monk couldn’t have survived it. He reached his hand out, watching in what felt like slow motion as his fingers grazed her jawline, her cheek. She let out a shuddering sigh and leaned into his palm, lifting her face toward him in mute offering of the thing he’d wanted for days.
A Reckless Runaway Page 9