Dunsaney's Desire (Historical Romance)

by Brianna York

  “Capital,” he said approvingly. “You do very well in your borrowed garments.”

  “I do them justice?” she inquired teasingly, her eyes bright as she placed her hands upon her hips and tilted her head back arrogantly.

  Matthew laughed brightly. “Indeed you do.” He tossed her a greatcoat. “Here is the coat to complete the ensemble.”

  She nodded and swirled it around her, liking the way it belled dramatically before settling onto her shoulders. She clasped it and then nodded. “I am ready.” She announced.

  “Not quite,” Matthew corrected her, closing the distance between them and slipping a stableboy’s cap onto her hair and pressing gloves into her hands.

  “Shall we go then?” she inquired, her head titled saucily to one side as she looked up at him. Matthew nodded, reached out and tweaked her nose gently, then left the room with her close on his heels. She smiled at the newfound freedom her borrowed clothes were allowing her as she hurried along behind Matthew. “How terribly liberating!” she exclaimed with satisfaction causing Matthew to laugh again. “Whose greatcoat is this?” she inquired abruptly. “One of my brother’s,” Matthew replied. “He left it hanging by the door, so I decided that he would not mind our borrowing it for a bit.”

  Another thought occurred to Tess. “Are your mother and brother no longer in the city? They are obviously not at home.”

  Matthew shook his head. “They are still here in the city I am afraid. They are at some ball I should think. I cannot be certain.” He shrugged indifferently. “They would only be underfoot at a time like this if they were at home anyway.”

  Tess thought that he was correct in this assessment of his acerbic mother and ineffectual brother and so she said no more as they stepped into the foyer and made their way toward the other end of the house.

  It was still pouring when they stepped outside, and Tess instinctively burrowed deeper into the welcome protection of her great coat and tugged her borrowed cap lower over her eyes. Matthew broke into a run and jogged toward the stables. She followed suit, avoiding puddles in her borrowed boots.

  “Ah there you are. I had not thought you were coming after all.” The voice was Forrest’s, obviously impatient and thrumming with contained energy.

  “Oh ye of little faith,” Matthew admonished his friend, striding over to William who was holding onto Deuce. “Thank you William.” He began to lead the gelding from the welcome dry comfort of the stable interior when the old man stopped him.

  “You find Lady Alex and you punish the bastards who have kidnaped her.” His voice was level, but his blue eyes blazed in his narrow, weathered face.

  Matthew nodded, reaching out and placing a steady hand on his coachman’s shoulder. “We shall find her and we shall make Marcus and Dartmoor terribly sorry for what they have done.” William nodded at Matthew approvingly before his employer whirled around in a swirl of greatcoats and led his horse from the dim glow of lanterns into the near total darkness of the alley. His eyes took a moment to adjust, but he could make out the forms of his two friends already in the alley.

  “Where is...” he began to ask, but then he heard the clacking of another set of hooves behind him and swiveled about in his saddle to witness Tess emerging from the stables leading Hermes.

  “What are you all waiting for?” she demanded, slipping the reins over her horse’s head and clucking to him. He obediently broke into a trot and Tess slipped her foot into the stirrup and used the horse’s momentum to swing herself easily into the saddle. The three men stared at her back for a moment, then Forrest laughed and sent his horse after her.

  They rode in pairs down the sleeping streets of London, the rain pelting down on them, soaking their clothes and gathering into glistening beads on their horse’s manes and ears. Forrest was carrying a lantern and riding even with Tess. Matthew watched his friend post smoothly to the rhythm of his horse’s trot, feeling comforted by the presence of such competence. He had his doubts that they would be able to catch up to Dartmoor and Marcus in time to stop them from seeing their scheme to fruition, but they could at least manage to ensure Alex’s safety. Marriages could be annulled if need be. What mattered most was that they catch up to Dartmoor before Alex was harmed.

  “Do you think that we shall catch them?” Rob asked quietly, echoing Matthew’s thoughts uncannily. Matthew supposed that he should not be surprised. Rob had always had a knack for reading too well the thoughts of those around him.

  “I do not know,” Matthew replied truthfully. “I certainly hope so. We can make much better time than a carriage will, but the weather is detrimental to our progress I must admit.”

  “It is detrimental to theirs as well,” Forrest called over his shoulder, having overheard the last of this exchange.

  “That is indeed the case,” Matthew agreed. He glanced over at Rob, and smiled fondly. Rob was no great hand with a horse and he detested the rain like a cat. His presence testified to his fondness for Alex. Matthew watched his friend for a moment as Rob posted asymmetrically and huddled into his greatcoat in search of warmth, then said, “Thank you for coming with us, Robert.”

  Rob glanced at Matthew, surprised by his friend’s use of his Christian name combined with the composed gratitude that rang in his voice. Looking at Matthew proved to be a mistake as it caused him to post off too far to the side of his horse and lose a stirrup. He stifled a curse as he bounced along for a few strides attempting to regain the lost stirrup iron before he succeeded. His horse flattened its ears in annoyance at the abuse its back was taking. “Sorry, Hercules,” he apologized to his mount, patting the gelding’s neck sloppily before turning to Matthew. “I would be nowhere else with Alex in danger,” he assured Matthew.

  Matthew inclined his head graciously in reply. “Thank you my friend. I am blessed to have such an army available in times of crisis.”

  Tess glanced back at that and grinned that same bold smile she had given him earlier in Alex’s rooms. “An army. I like the sound of that.”

  Forrest chuckled. “Matthew has the terms all wrong, love. This is not an army, it is a cavalry unit.”

  They all laughed at that. “I surrender to your superior knowledge on this particular subject,” Matthew assured him.

  They had nearly ridden out of the city by now, and with the rutted road stretching ahead of them, Forrest raised his lantern a little higher to spread the light out ahead of them. “Shall we canter a bit?” he inquired of the little party, cuing his horse as he spoke. The rocking rhythm of the new gait jostled the lantern less and made it easier for the others to see. Matthew cued Deuce to canter as Tess did the same. Rob however, had some trouble getting Hercules into the gait, and he was forced to hurry a bit to catch up to the rest of the group once he had attained a canter.

  “All right, Rob?” Matthew called to his friend as he rode the easy ground-covering roll of Apollo’s canter.

  “I believe so,” Rob replied. He grit his teeth as muscles that were unused to so much exertion began to complain of being in the saddle too long. He refused to acknowledge his discomfort, instead asking Hercules to step up the pace a little bit so that he drew even with Deuce. He thought that he saw Matthew smile approvingly at him in the darkness, but he could not be sure and so he turned his eyes ahead so that he would not lose sight of Forrest.

  How far ahead would they be? Matthew thought restlessly to himself as he narrowed his eyes against the pelting rain. They would be able to make better time than a carriage, but Dartmoor and Marcus had gotten off ahead of the storm. They would have to hope that the weather had slowed them substantially. If only I did not know Dartmoor to be so reckless, he thought dismally, hunching his shoulders a bit as the wind clawed at him. He would have to hope that they were made complacent by their mutual arrogance and the protection that the weather was affording them. Small comfort that, he thought to himself before banishing every thought but those that concerned guiding his horse safely behind the protective light of Forrest’s lantern. />
  Thirty-Six

  A

  lex was not sure how long they had been traveling. They had changed horses shortly after the storm had opened the heavens, and Marcus had brought her some food. He had asked her to promise to remain silent, then had slipped the gag out of her mouth to offer her the stale and foul-smelling food. Seeing a chance for freedom, Alex had screamed at the top of her lungs and thrown herself towards the door of the carriage. Unfortunately for her, Dartmoor was just returning from the inn as she fumbled at the door latch with hands that were bound tightly together. She had just succeeded in forcing the door open when Dartmoor arrived. She screamed as loudly as she could, attempting to slip past him and run away. He was quicker than she was however, and he snatched a hold of her shoulders with both hands and shoved her back toward the carriage. She would not give up so easily, however and wrenched her knee upwards as hard as she could, connecting with his groin and doubling him up. She gave him a hard shove that nearly sent him sprawling before setting off at a run across the stable yard. She was just opening her mouth to shout for help again when a hand covered her mouth and nose, depriving her of much-needed oxygen.

  “Dammit, Alex,” Marcus snarled under his breath, wrenching her around and shoving her ahead of him toward the carriage again. She stumbled several times and spots began to flicker around the edges of her vision as his hand continued to make breathing nearly impossible.

  Dartmoor was still clinging to the edge of the carriage door retching when they arrived. He glanced up at Alex with barely suppressed hatred, but also a horrifying glint of excitement. He drew a shuddering breath and slowly straightened up. “Tie her hands behind her this time,” he ordered Marcus as he reached into the carriage and extracted the gag. “This is the last opportunity you will have to be so reckless, sweetheart,” he said softly to her, his eyes over bright in the dim light of the carriage lamps. “Although I have to admit that I find you very enjoyable when you struggle.” She cringed away from him as he limped up to her with the gag. He stared at her through narrowed eyes for a long moment, then reached out one hand to catch a hold of her chin. She stiffened and tried to tilt her head back to break his grip on her face but he only tightened the pressure of his fingers and pulled her head down again. He grinned at her nastily, then kissed her. She shrieked, but the sound was muffled and ineffectual. She was sandwiched between them, Marcus pinning her hands behind her as he bound her hands and Dartmoor kissing her. She gave another muffled scream and jerked back in time to hit Marcus in the forehead with her own head.

  “Christ, Dartmoor!” Marcus exclaimed. “Stop it and gag her again so that we can get out of here. We have created enough of a scene as it is.”

  Dartmoor grinned at them both for a moment, then he forced the gag between Alex’s bruised lips and tied it as tightly as he could. “Do not provoke me more, Alex, or I might be forced to anticipate our marriage vows a bit.” Alex shuddered and closed her eyes. She prayed that Matthew had figured out where she was and with whom and was on his way to save her. She had no other hope left that the situation could be remedied by her alone.

  “Look at me,” Dartmoor ordered her, but she simply could not will her eyes to open and see him so close to her with that crazed gleam of enjoyment lighting his face. “Look at me!” he shouted, making her ears ring. She flinched but her eyes remained closed. “Goddamn you!” He snarled. “You will learn to obey me!” Still she kept her eyes pressed firmly shut and, with a muttered curse, Dartmoor seized her hair with one hand and cuffed her with the other. Stars flickered behind her closed lids followed quickly by darkness and oblivion.

  “Dammit, Dartmoor!” Marcus cried as Alex’s head lolled to the side. “She is no good to you dead!”

  Dartmoor nodded. “I suppose that you are right. But she is so terribly provoking.” His civilized and composed tone sent a chill down Marcus’s spine. “Let’s be on our way.” Dartmoor turned around and made his still painful way back to Marcus’s carriage and climbed inside with a muffled curse. Heaving a sigh, Marcus followed suit.

  When Alex came to, she had no way of knowing how long she had been unconscious. She only knew that she was terribly cold and that every bump in the road made itself known by the accompanying explosion of pain in her head. She willed herself not to cast up her accounts and tried to think. She knew that the terrible weather was slowing them down quite a bit, but it would slow down her rescuers as well. That is if there were any rescuers on the way to save her, she reminded herself.

  A sudden happy thought occurred to her on the heels of the depressing knowledge that Matthew and Forrest might not have yet been able to decipher who had kidnaped her. If a party traveled on horseback rather than by carriage, they could gain considerably on a coach hampered by the inclement weather. It would be dangerous going in such torrential weather and with a lantern as the sole means of providing enough light to travel by, but she knew that Forrest and Matthew would not hesitate to take such a risk. She hoped that they had come to the same conclusion and soon enough to catch up to her.

  She ground her teeth as another bump caused her head to protest vehemently yet again. Fighting nausea, she attempted to soothe herself into sleep. Suddenly the carriage drew to a stop. Alex opened her eyes and held very still.

  “What now?” Dartmoor demanded petulantly.

  “How should I know?” Marcus snapped back. She heard him open the carriage door and step out. She could only make out snatches of the conversation that ensued between Marcus and his coachman. She closed her eyes and tried to strain her ears farther but she still could not make out enough of the words to know what had happened.

  “What is the matter?” Dartmoor wanted to know when Marcus swung back into the carriage.

  She heard Marcus sigh loudly. “The harness has broken. We can fix it temporarily, but it will only last long enough to get us to the next inn I am afraid.”

  Dartmoor thought about this for a long moment. Alex could almost feel his eyes on her. “That is quite all right, Marcus. I am tired and we have the time to spare to sleep for a few hours.”

  “It will likely be morning before I can get it repaired,” Marcus said. “Unless I can purchase a replacement from the inn.”

  “That is quite all right as well,” Dartmoor returned, his voice fat with arrogance.

  Marcus sighed again. There was a long stretch of minutes where the carriage did not move and Alex presumed that the coachman was making the necessary adjustments to get them to the next inn. Finally the carriage lumbered forward and Alex grit her teeth as her discomfort increased in tandem with the return of motion. She felt a sharp thrill of hope flare up within her at the thought that they would be delayed until morning. She promised herself to become obedient enough to avoid Dartmoor’s wrath for the time it would take her rescuers to catch up to her. She refused to believe that no one was riding after her. The thought was simply too abhorrent to consider it.

  Thirty-Seven

  T

  ess shifted in the saddle and felt her body cry out in protest. She wasn’t used to riding astride and her muscles were not about to let her forget it. She shivered and closed the greatcoat tightly about her throat with one hand as she tilted her head down to prevent the rain running off the brim of her hat to drip down her face. Hermes snorted softly and cocked an ear. “Good boy,” she murmured to him, wishing that they could get the drenched horses in out of the rain, but knowing that was not likely to happen any time soon.

  “Are you all right?” Rob asked from her right. She was certain that she detected the chattering of his teeth through his words.

  “I am. How are you faring?” she inquired.

  Rob closed his eyes momentarily. “As well as can be expected for a less than adequate horseman who’s been in the saddle for so long,” he returned truthfully.

  She smiled at him reassuringly. “You are doing very well, Lord Coulthurst, never fear. I am certain that I shall walk with a limp myself for a few weeks after this night’s work.
”

  Rob chuckled. “I wish that I did not feel as if Forrest and Matthew were so completely impervious to discomfort and fatigue.”

  Tess nodded in reply. Forrest had paused only once in their persistent pursuit of Dartmoor and Marcus, and that had been to ask Matthew to take a turn carrying the lantern as his arm was growing tired. After that they had pressed on resolutely without hesitation until they had come upon the first coaching inn along the road and halted to see if Marcus and Dartmoor had stopped there. Matthew and Forrest had left their horses with Rob and Tess and gone to shake the innkeeper out of bed so that they could ask him a few questions.

  She glanced over at Hercules and Deuce whose reins she was holding and laughed softly when she found them to be quietly dozing side by side. They usually did not get along at all, but they appeared to have elected for a truce given the unusual nature of the night.

  “Ah! There they are!” Rob said abruptly, and Tess glanced away from the horses in time to see Forrest and Matthew approaching briskly. Forrest had drawn off his gloves and was blowing on his fingers. Matthew was smiling grimly.

  “Well?” Tess asked, unsure of what to make of Matthew’s expression.

  “The innkeeper was little pleased with us when he discovered that we had no horses to change and no need of refreshment. With a little coaxing, however, he told us that a carriage matching the description that we gave him had stopped a few hours ago and changed horses.”

  “Capital!” Tess exclaimed, feeling relieved. They were not so far behind as they had originally thought.

  “We made the man show us the horses they had changed for and they are unmistakably Marcus’s,” Forrest said then, drawing his gloves back on and taking the reins of his horse from Tess. “He left enough money to keep them stabled until their return. If I had had any doubts about their destination at this point, the amount of blunt that he left for his horses’ keep would assure me that they could only be going as far as Scotland.”