by Jun, Kristi
“There,” he whispered to her. “I think you will survive.”
Their eyes locked and, as if it were the natural thing to do, he leaned in to kiss the corner of her mouth. She smelled like chocolate and spices. Damn she tasted good. She reached out and touched his lips with her finger as if it was the most natural thing to do, exploring him. Her gaze was soft and wanting, and he cursed himself for doing exactly what he told himself he would not do. It’s settled, he told himself. Since he could not remain here with her and she could not stay here without the protection of her brother, he would have no choice but to hide her.
“We are leaving.” He stood and walked back to where he’d been standing so he could think.
“What?” she said. “Why?”
“You will pack your bags and come with me,” he said. He could not rest knowing she was here, and he could not return to his hotel alone. “Tell your staff and servants you will be visiting an old friend, I don’t care who, but you can’t stay here alone.”
“I cannot go with you.”
“Let me make it clear,” he said. “Harris has managed to escape capture and is on the loose. He has murdered my brother and shot his own son. He is a manipulative bastard who will do what it takes to get what he wants. Believe me, if he thinks hurting you will get him what he wants, he will. Clearly, even your staff isn’t capable of protecting you from murder.”
Her eyes widened at the severity of his words. “And you are, Mr. Hawk . . . capable of protecting me?”
“I’ve spent nearly a decade chasing men like him, murderers and thieves, so yes, I am more than qualified.”
“You do think very highly of yourself.”
“We are leaving,” he said.
Chapter 8
“Ask me nicely,” Emily said with her hands on her hips.
Mr. Hawk faced her but said nothing for several seconds, probably because she injured his pride. Men like him never apologized, she supposed, and always assumed everyone would follow his orders. “While I appreciate your assistance, you will not order me about.” His expression spoke of murder, but she stood her ground. He was uncouth and . . . and insufferable.
“Pack your things,” he said seethingly, “ . . . please.”
“Better,” she said with a patronizing smile. The truth was, she didn’t care where he took her as long as she was with him. Dare she admit that she wished he kissed her again? Was it wrong to take pleasure in this? She liked the taste of his mouth, the fragrance of his breath. And she could not stop looking at his lips. She’d been kissed before, but it was not like this. This was hot and bothersome, and her body had responded too eagerly to his touch. Could she allow herself to feel again?
The last several years, she’d had time to think about what had transpired between her and Mr. White. She thought about her feelings, why she had chosen to run away with him. She came to the conclusion that had anyone asked to marry her, she would have been naïve enough to accept. She had wanted a family—a family to call her own—so badly that she was willing to risk scandal and humiliation to get it.
But Mr. Hawk created an entirely different feeling. How, she wasn’t certain. She’d find herself missing him, wanting to hear his voice. Or simply to be near him. Then she’d chide herself for being so childish. When he noticed her, it felt as if everything was going to be fine, if that made any sense at all. And tonight, he had kissed her. Granted it was only on her lips, but he noticed her. And she wasn’t going to fight it any longer. Now he wanted to take her away to protect her from Mr. Harris. The thought of being alone with Mr. Hawk for an uncertain amount of time left her with a myriad of emotions that were confusing.
“Are you going to tell me where you plan on hiding me, Mr. Harris?”
“I will find a safe place for you. For us. For tonight, you will remain here. We will travel at dawn before the house awakes.”
She took a moment to look at him. She didn’t realize how fatigued he looked until now, but his crisp blue eyes remained focused. In the candlelight his hair looked almost light brown, and his beard was starting to grow out. Heavens, he was wild, and she wished so much to know how it felt to be held by him, completely and utterly.
Her gaze lowered to his dark breeches that clung to his muscles, and his cravat was half-hastily put together. His vest had smudges of dirt on it, and his cream shirt was wrinkled. Her gaze continued to his hands, and she imagined them caressing her, making her insides warm and aroused.
She pulled her gaze up to meet his eyes. “I believe I may know of a place,” she started. She was going to regret this. “It’s the cottage I inherited from my grandmother. It’s in Albury. It’s quaint and private. It should take half a day of travel to get there.”
“Who knows of this place other than you?”
“Just my brother.”
“Very well,” he said. “Make arrangements to travel in the morning. I suggest you do not bring your maid with you. Give her a time off or whatever you wish, but I don’t want to be responsible for another soul.”
Just when she thought she was beginning to care for this man, he managed to ruin everything. “I shall do as you wish, but don’t expect me to be happy about it, Mr. Hawk.”
“Good.”
Chapter 9
Emily hadn’t slept all night.
The anticipation of travel with Mr. Hawk made her anxious and brought back memories of the night she eloped with Mr. White to Gretna Green. But, she told herself, this was for her safety, and the U.S. marshal was only trying to assist her. Had her brother been here, she would not have to resort to such drastic measures, she reasoned.
She hugged her dark cloak tighter around her to ward off the chill of the morning. Mr. Hawk advised her to pack clothes that would be discreet and unnoticeable, so she managed to commandeer a few dresses that belonged to her maid.
After giving her maid time off to visit her family in Oxfordshire, she left instructions to the butler that she’d be calling on her friends for several days and not to expect her back anytime soon. Mr. Hawk informed her to meet him in front of Oxtail and Lamb. There, her maid would take the carriage to her family’s farm and she’d leave with him.
By the time she left her estate with her maid, the sun had barely risen. It was a crisp morning and barely anyone was in the street in town. By the time she arrived at the pub and released her maid of her duties, Mr. Hawk was awaiting her arrival, leaning against an oak tree across the street.
She took in a deep breath, chiding herself for allowing Mr. Hawk to convince her to do this. He approached her with a horse. “Are we to travel on that?” she asked.
“It’s faster,” he said. “Give me your bag.”
He secured her bag and gently assisted her up onto the horse. She’d only ridden sidesaddle, and never with a man, and he was having her sit in the front. This beast, handsome as it was, was a large steed, and she was rather uncomfortable. She had fallen off once and swore never to ride one again.
“No sidesaddle,” he said, startling her.
“But I’ve never ridden any other way,” she said, looking at him.
“I can’t hold you still and maneuver the horse that way. Leg on each side.”
She sighed in frustration, bit her lips, and straddled the horse as he instructed. Heaven forbid, if her brother was here, he’d lock her up in her room.
He mounted the horse with ease, as if he had done it a million times. Gently, he pulled her close to him so that her back was against his chest. Her buttocks grazed against him, his warm thighs making her feel secure and strangely aroused. Maneuvering the horse with his free hand, he trotted forward out of town toward Aubrey where her cottage was located.
She leaned into him and relaxed. There was a sense of ease with him, and she felt protected. Was this how all men felt? She had a feeling he was an exception.
Light rain trickled do
wn on them, and she looked up at the gray sky and smiled. She felt free and liberated. To be out in the country with Mr. Hawk was, dare she admit it, exciting.
Coming to a full stop, he pulled off his leather coat and gently put it on her. The fragrance of worn leather perfumed the air, and she inhaled deeply.
She looked back and watched the rain tap, tap, tap on the rim of his brimmed hat. There was nothing English about him, and she didn’t mind at all that he didn’t make the proper effort to blend in.
“You’re getting wet.”
“It’s a light rain,” he said. He clicked his tongue, and the horse started to trot forward.
“And you nearly caught your death if you recall.”
“We can stop and find shelter if you wish.”
“I don’t mind it at all, actually.”
He gave her an amused look.
After several minutes, the rain stopped, and they continued to canter along the dirt road for a few hours. They took a quick break to give her bum a reprieve, water the horse, and they continued on. He hadn’t conversed or attempted to speak with her.
He was, literally, a man of a very few words, and she was beginning to wonder if anything was wrong. “What will you do if you don’t apprehend Mr. Harris by the time my brother returns?” She felt his hand press her against him, pulling her close at the mention of Mr. Harris.
“We’ll deal with that when the time comes.”
From where they were, they had another hour to get to the cottage. “Is it difficult doing what you do?”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“Your occupation. What do you do exactly, Mr. Hawk?”
“I hunt down criminals.”
“That sounds menacing and quite dangerous.” He said nothing. “Are there many fugitives in Boston?” She heard him sigh heavily and sensed he was getting uneasy with all the questions. Perhaps he was inconvenienced by having to use his precious time with her instead of chasing after Mr. Harris right now.
“Criminals are everywhere.”
“I see . . .” she said. Images of him in the wilds of America chasing after dangerous men played out in her mind. “It sounds like a lonely existence,” she whispered. “Your family must be in constant worry about you.” Just as she finished, she remembered Kate had mentioned he had lost his wife and infant. But that was not the family she was referring to. She meant his parents, but she felt his muscles tighten as soon as she said the word “family.” “I’m sorry . . . Kate mentioned you lost your family.”
“We should arrive soon.”
How would he know this? “You’ve been to my cottage?”
“Last night,” he said. “I came here to scour the area.”
He came here last night? He must be fatigued by all the travel and constant surveillance. She supposed it was his propensity, being a man hunter, always on constant alert and always chasing after someone. Then it dawned on her that the reason why he was so quiet was because he preferred to remain focused in his duty. And here she was asking silly, nonsensical questions that didn’t really matter to anyone. Actually, they mattered to her.
“I don’t blame you, Mr. Hawk,” she said. “I don’t blame you for Mr. Harris’s threat. Or breaking into my brother’s estate.” Why else would he go out of his way to this extent? “In fact, I appreciate everything you have done thus far. I hope you know that.”
“I’m merely doing my job to apprehend the man before he takes another soul.”
A lump of disappointment lodged in her heart. What else was she expecting him to say? To make sure you are safe? I care? How ludicrous. She was setting herself up for disappointment again. “Of course,” was all she said. At times he felt colder than stone, like an icy, unmovable statue, and she felt her heart grow doleful.
They arrived at the cottage at a slow gallop. The sun was overhead and the clouds had scattered, and she was glad for it. The house was beyond the clutter of trees, and once they passed the clearing, she saw the quaint home that had once belonged to her grandparents. A wave of emotion flooded her when the cottage came into a full view, which she didn’t expect. Happiness mixed with sadness too. She didn’t grow up here, but the fact her mother had made it special.
As they got closer, she noticed ivies that snaked up the trellis on the wall. There was a little garden with pretty flowers that were starting to bloom under the large windows. Finally, they had arrived, and she smiled . . .
Fucking idiot.
Every time he opened his mouth, it was like venom. Why couldn’t he keep his mouth shut or say something that was helpful? The truth was, he’d been so exhausted from last night that it took every ounce of his energy to stay awake and focused. And all he could think about was making sure they arrived safe at the cottage.
After he left Kemp Manor last night, he couldn’t sleep, so he made the decision to look for this cottage in Albury. He spent many years tracking down fugitives in the plains of North America; he didn’t think this would be very difficult to find, even at night.
Lady Wentworth mentioned the cottage was quaint with a thatched roof and two chimneys made of red bricks. There were four square sash windows upstairs in the front of the house. The thick wooden door was deep red and had the golden letters HC embossed on the door above the brass knocker. It didn’t take long, since she had given him detailed directions to the cottage, plus there weren’t many cottages out here with two chimneys. There was also a duck pond near the house, which helped him to locate it.
When they came to a full stop, he helped her down slowly enough to get another good whiff of the sweet fragrance he’d been drunk on all damn day. Hell, she smelled like sugar and a hint of vanilla. Is that all she consumed all day? He couldn’t deny he liked it. And to his discontent, he liked how she felt in his saddle, his arms, between his legs, and damn . . . she felt good everywhere, and that was the problem.
Lady Wentworth dug into her reticule which she wore around her wrist, looking for something, and in no time pulled out a key.
“Here, let me,” he said, taking the key from her and unlocking the door. He entered first and looked around. It seemed quiet and empty. There were enough windows to brighten up the interior of the cottage. It reeked of money, and the many windows were expensive enough for anyone with fewer means to afford them.
Past the entryway, he saw a long hall in front of him parallel to the narrow stairs. To his right was a parlor that faced the lawn and to his left was what looked to be a library. “Stay here while I look around,” he ordered.
“Yes, sir,” she said sarcastically.
He threw her a narrow look, letting her know that it wasn’t amusing in the least. Down the hall, there was a dining room, a study, and a decent-sized kitchen that seemed to be fully stocked. Interesting. Why would an empty kitchen be fully stocked? Once he was satisfied, he returned to Lady Wentworth in the foyer. “Have you told anyone about coming here today?”
“No,” she said. “Why do you ask?”
“Because the kitchen is fully stocked with food and there is freshly cut firewood in the cellar.”
“That’s because Mr. C comes by once a week to refresh the house. He brings his wife, and she brings fresh linens too. Sometimes fresh flowers.”
“You said this place was empty.”
“It is,” she snapped back at his curt tone.
“So then why would they go through all the trouble of doing that?”
“Because, Mr. Hawk,” she said, firmly, “they were hired to look after the cottage. My grandmother secured their living by setting aside funds for this sole purpose.”
“You should have told me.”
“They are good people and harmless, Mr. Hawk.”
“Still . . .” Although he could understand the need to help those that were less fortunate by providing them a living, it was a waste of perfectly good resources whe
n no one was here to enjoy it. He walked away and grabbed several logs to start the fire in the parlor to warm the house. It didn’t take long to get the fire going as the logs were dry.
“Come sit by the fire,” he said. While the sun was out, the wind had kicked up. She’d been sitting in the floral chair in her hooded cape.
“Please sit down and rest,” she said. “You must be tired.”
Even as his mind told him to put some distance between them, he sat down next to her in a matching chair. Besides, he had nowhere to go, and it was time to get some shuteye for a few hours at least. Most importantly, he realized he needed to make amends for his abruptness. He’d been caring for himself so long that he often forgot his manners. “I am not used to having company, at least not for very long.”
She looked at him as she pulled the dark cape off and hung it on the arm of the chair. “I understand.”
“I don’t think you do,” he said.
“Then why don’t you explain it to me, Mr. Hawk.”
“My occupation makes it difficult for me to have relationships.”
She sighed in deep thought as if contemplating what he just admitted. “So you keep everyone at a distance because it is easier for you.”
“It’s not easy for me,” he said. “Far from it.”
“Then why do you do it?”
“Out of necessity,” he said. “People get hurt.”
“It sounds very lonely.”
“Not lonely,” he said. “It keeps me alive.”
“Alive?” she asked. “I wholeheartedly disagree. It’s a very lonely existence.”
“You don’t understand my circumstances.”
“I think I do in respect to feeling lonely,” she said. “Just because my brother takes care of me doesn’t mean I don’t know how it feels to be lonely.” Her words sounded raw and piercing to his ears.