by Julia Quinn
“I opt for stubborn, if I get a vote.”
She let out an exasperated breath of air and marched ahead of him. “I'm going to my room.”
“Wouldn't you like to know which one it is?”
Victoria could positively feel his grin at her back. “Would you care to tell me,” she said between clenched teeth, “the number of my room?”
“Three.”
“Thank you,” she said, and then wished that courtesy hadn't been so methodically drummed into her at a young age. As if he deserved her gratitude.
“I'm number four,” he called out helpfully. “Just in case you want to know where to find me.”
“I'm sure that won't be necessary.” Victoria reached the top of the stairs, turned the corner, and began to look for her room. She could hear Robert a few paces behind her.
“One never knows.” When she didn't comment, he added, “I can think of a host of reasons you may need to contact me.” When she continued to ignore him, he added, “A thief might try to invade your room. You might have a nightmare.”
The only bad dreams she might have, Victoria thought, would be about him.
“The inn might be haunted,” he continued. “Just think of all the scary ghosts lurking about.”
Victoria was quite unable to ignore that one. She turned slowly around. “That is the most implausible idea I have ever heard.”
He shrugged. “It could happen.”
She merely stared at him, looking very much as if she was trying to determine how to get him admitted to an asylum.
“Or,” he added, “you might miss me.”
“I rescind my earlier statement,” she snapped. “That is the most implausible idea I have ever heard.”
He clasped his heart dramatically. “You wound me, my lady.”
“I am not your lady.”
“You will be.”
“Ah, look,” she said with patently false brightness. “Here is my room. Good night.” Without waiting for Robert to respond, Victoria entered her room and shut the door in his face.
Then she heard the key turn in the lock.
She gasped. The beast had locked her in!
Victoria indulged herself in a quick stamp of her foot, then flopped on her bed with a loud groan. She couldn't believe he had the gall to lock her in her room.
Well, actually, she could believe it. The man had abducted her, after all. And Robert never left a detail to chance.
Victoria fumed on her bed for several minutes. If she tried to escape Robert, she would have to do it that evening. Once he got her to his cottage by the sea, she doubted he'd let her out of his sight. And knowing Robert's penchant for privacy, she could safely assume that his cottage was isolated.
No, it would have to be now. Luckily Faversham was not so very far from Bellfield, where her family still lived. Victoria didn't particularly want to visit her father; she had never forgiven him for tying her up all those years ago. But the Reverend definitely seemed a lesser evil than Robert.
Victoria crossed the room to the window and peered out. It was a daunting distance to the ground. There was no way she'd make it without injury. Then her eyes fell on a door, and not the one to the hall.
A connecting door. She had a good idea to whose room it connected. How utterly ironic that the only way she would be able to escape was through his room.
She crouched down and squinted at the doorknob. Then she examined the door frame. It looked as if the door might stick. Opening it would be loud, and Robert would probably awaken. If he woke up before she even made it to the hall, she'd never escape. She would have to find a way to leave the connecting door slightly open without raising his suspicion.
Then it came to her.
Victoria took a deep breath and slammed the door open. “I might have known you'd have so little respect for my privacy!” she bellowed. She was aware that she was invading his privacy by barging into his room, but it seemed the only way to get the blasted door open without—
She gasped, forgetting whatever it was she'd been thinking about.
Robert was standing in the middle of the room, his chest bared. His hands were on the fastenings of his breeches. “Would you like me to continue?” he said mildly.
“No, no, that won't be necessary,” she stammered, turning seven shades of red, from crimson to beet.
He smiled lazily. “Are you certain? I'd be happy to oblige you.”
Victoria wondered why she couldn't seem to take her eyes off him. He was really quite magnificent, she thought in a bizarre burst of objectivity. His years in London had clearly not been inactive ones.
He took advantage of her dazed silence to hand her a small package.
“What is this?” she asked suspiciously.
“It occurred to me when I was making my plans that you might need something in which to sleep. I took the liberty of procuring you a nightgown.”
The thought of him buying her lingerie was so startlingly intimate that Victoria nearly dropped the package. “Where did you get this?” she asked.
“I didn't get it from another woman, if that is what you want to know.” He stepped forward and touched her cheek. “Although I must say that I'm touched to see you so jealous.”
“I'm not jealous,” she ground out. “It's just that—If you bought it at Madame Lambert's, I should be—”
“I didn't buy it at Madame Lambert's.
“Good. I should be quite angry to find out that one of my friends assisted you in this nefarious endeavor.”
“I wonder how long you'll remain so angry with me,” he said softly.
Victoria's head snapped up at his abrupt change of subject. “I'm going to bed.” She took two steps toward the connecting door, then turned around. “I shan't be modeling this gown for you.”
He offered her a seductive smile. “I never dreamed you would. However I'm quite pleased to hear that you at least contemplated the idea.”
Victoria let out a low growl and stomped back into her room. She was so furious with him that she nearly slammed the door shut. But then, remembering her initial goal, she grasped the knob and closed the door so that it just touched the jamb. If Robert noticed that it was not closed properly, he would not think she had left it open as an invitation. She had made her anger too clear for him to jump to that conclusion. No, he would probably just assume that, in her distraction, she had overlooked a detail.
And if she was lucky he wouldn't notice the door at all.
Victoria tossed the offending package onto her bed and considered her plan for the rest of the night. She would have to wait several hours before attempting her escape. She had no idea how long it would take Robert to fall asleep, and since she had only one chance to flee, it seemed prudent to give him plenty of time to doze off.
She stayed awake by mentally reciting all her least favorite passages from the Bible. Her father had always insisted that she and Ellie commit large portions of the book to memory. An hour passed, then another, then another. Then yet another hour passed, and Victoria halted in midpsalm as she realized that it was four in the morning. Surely Robert was sleeping soundly by now.
She took two tiptoed steps toward the door, then stopped. Her boots had nice hard soles on them and they clattered as she walked. She would have to remove them. Her bones let out a loud creak as she sat on the floor and unlaced her shoes. Finally, footwear in hand, she continued her silent trek toward the connecting door.
Heart pounding, she placed her hand on the knob. Since she hadn't shut the door properly, she didn't have to twist it. She gave it a light tug, and then, with very controlled movements, pulled the door open.
She poked her face into the room first, then breathed a silent sigh of relief. Robert was sleeping soundly. The blasted man didn't appear to be wearing anything under the bed sheets, but Victoria quickly decided not to contemplate that fact just then.
She tiptoed toward his door, mentally thanking whomever it was who had decided to lay a rug in his room. It mad
e her procession all the more quiet. Finally she reached the door. Robert had left the key in the lock. Ah, this would be the trickiest part. She had to get the door unlocked and slip out without waking him.
It occurred to her then that it was actually quite a good thing that Robert slept in the nude. If she did wake him up, she would be able to get quite a good head start while he pulled on his clothing. He might be determined to get her into his clutches, but she rather doubted that his determination extended to running through the streets of Faversham wearing nary a stitch.
She wrapped her fingers around the key and turned her head. The lock made a loud click. She caught her breath and looked over her shoulder. Robert made a sleepy, rumbling sort of noise and rolled over, but other than that he made no sign he was waking up.
With pent up breath, Victoria slowly pulled the door open, praying that the hinges wouldn't creak. It made a tiny noise, causing Robert to move a bit more and smack his lips in a curiously appealing manner. Finally she got the door halfway open and slipped through.
Escape! It was almost too easy; the triumph Victoria had expected to feel just wasn't there. She ran through the hall and made her way down the stairs. No one was on duty, so she was able to slip out the front door unnoticed.
Once out in the open, however, she realized that she had no idea where to go. It was about fifteen miles to Bellfield; not too far to walk when one was really determined, but Victoria didn't particularly relish the thought of walking along the Canterbury Road by herself at night. She would probably do better to find a place to hide near the inn and wait for Robert to depart.
Victoria eyed her surroundings as she put her shoes back on. The stables might do, and there were a few shops nearby that might have places to hide. Perhaps—
“Well, well, wot 'ave we 'ere?”
Victoria's heart sank into her instantly queasy stomach. Two large, dirty, and from the looks of it drunken men were closing in on her. She took a step backward—back toward the inn.
“Oy still got a few pennies left,” one of them said. “Wot's yer price, missy?”
“I'm afraid you have the wrong idea,” Victoria said, her words coming out terribly rushed.
“Come on now, lovey,” the other said, reaching out and grabbing her arm. “We just want a bit of sport. Be a good lovey to us.”
Victoria let out a surprised scream. The man's hand was biting into her skin. “No, no,” she said, panic beginning to set in. “I'm not that kind of—” She didn't bother to finish the sentence; they didn't seem to be paying attention.
“I am a married woman,” she lied, using a louder tone of voice.
One of them actually tore his eyes off her breasts for a moment and looked up. He blinked, then shook his head.
Victoria sucked in her breath. They obviously had no scruples concerning the sanctity of marriage. Finally, out of desperation, she burst out, “My husband is the earl of Macclesfield! If you touch a hair on my head, he'll have you killed. I swear he will.”
That gave them pause. Then one of them said, “Wot's the wife of a bloody earl doing out by 'erself in the middle of the night?”
“It's a very long story, I assure you,” Victoria improvised, still backing up toward the inn.
“I think she's making it up,” the one holding her arm said. He yanked her closer to him with a movement surprisingly fast for one so inebriated. Victoria tried not to gag at his foul breath. Then she changed her mind and tried to gag. Vomit might be just the thing to dampen his ardor.
“We're just going to 'ave a bit of fun tonight,” he whispered. “You and me and—”
“I wouldn't try it,” drawled a voice Victoria knew all too well. “I don't like it when people touch my wife.”
She looked up. Robert was standing next to the man—where had he come from so quickly?—and had a gun pressed up against his temple. He wasn't wearing a shirt, he wasn't even wearing shoes, and he had another gun tucked into the waistband of his breeches. He looked at the drunkard, smiled humorlessly, and said, “She makes me a bit irrational.”
“Robert,” Victoria said in a shaky voice, for once desperately glad to see him.
He jerked his head to the side, indicating for her to move into the doorway to the inn. She did so immediately.
“I'm going to start counting,” Robert said in a deadly voice. “If the two of you aren't out of my sight by the time I get to ten, I'm going to shoot. And I won't aim for your feet.”
The villains started to run before Robert even got to two. He counted all the way to ten, anyway. Victoria watched him from the doorway, tempted to run back up to her room and barricade herself inside while he ticked off the numbers. But she found herself rooted to the spot, quite unable to take her eyes off Robert.
When he was done he whirled around. “I suggest you don't provoke my temper any further this evening,” he bit off.
She nodded. “No, I'll just be going to sleep. We can discuss this in the morning, if you like.”
He didn't say anything, just let out a low growl as they mounted the steps back up to their chambers. Victoria wasn't particularly heartened by this reaction.
They reached his door, which had clearly been flung open in haste. Robert practically dragged her through the doorway and slammed the door shut. He let go of her to twist the key in the lock, and Victoria took advantage of this opportunity to run to the connecting door. “I'll just be going to bed,” she said quickly.
“Not so fast.” Robert's hand closed around her upper arm and he reeled her back in. “Do you really think I'm going to allow you to spend the rest of the night in there?”
She blinked. “Well, yes. I rather thought you were.”
He smiled, but it was a dangerous sort of smile. “Wrong.”
She thought her knees might give out. “Wrong?”
Before she knew what he was about, he'd scooped her up in his arms and dropped her on the bed. “You, my devious friend, are spending the night here. In my bed.”
Chapter 15
You're insane,” Victoria said, jumping off the bed with amazing speed.
He advanced on her with slow, menacing steps. “If I'm not, I'm damned close to it now.”
That didn't reassure her. She took a few steps back, realizing with a sinking stomach that she was nearly to the wall. Escape did not look likely.
“Did I mention how much I enjoyed hearing you refer to me as your husband?” he asked in a deceptively lazy voice.
Victoria knew that tone. It meant he was furious and keeping it all inside. If she had been in a calmer and more reasonable frame of mind, she probably would have kept her mouth shut and done nothing to provoke his temper. But she was sufficiently concerned for her own welfare and virtue, so she snapped, “It's the last time you will ever hear it.”
“Pity, that.”
“Robert,” she said in what she hoped was a gentling tone. “You have every right to be angry…”
He laughed at that. Laughed! Victoria was not amused.
“Angry does not begin to describe it,” he said. “Allow me to tell you a story.”
“Don't be facetious.”
He ignored her. “I was sleeping in my bed, enjoying a particularly vivid dream…You were in it.”
Victoria's cheeks flamed.
He smiled humorlessly. “I believe I had one hand in your hair, and your lips were…Hmmm, how do I describe it?”
“Robert, that's enough!” Victoria began to shake. Robert wasn't the sort to embarrass a lady by speaking to her in such terms. He must be far, far angrier than she'd dreamed.
“Now where was I?” he mused. “Ah, yes. My dream. Imagine, if you will, my distress when I was awakened from such delightful slumber by screams.” He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing furiously. “Your screams.”
Victoria couldn't think of anything to say. Well, that was not entirely true. She thought of several hundred things to say, but half of them were inappropriate and half were downright dangerous to her well-being.<
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“I have never before pulled on my breeches with such speed, do you know that?”
“I'm sure it will prove a useful talent,” she improvised.
“And I have splinters in my feet,” he added. “These floors were not meant to be traversed unshod.”
She tried to smile, but found that her bravado was sadly lacking. “I'd be happy to see to your injuries.”
His hands descended upon her shoulders in a blindingly fast movement. “I wasn't walking, Victoria. I was running. I was running as if it were to save my own life. Except it wasn't.” He leaned forward, his eyes glittering furiously. “I was desperate to save yours.”
Her throat convulsed in a nervous swallow. What did he want her to say? Finally she opened her mouth and out tumbled, “Thank you?” It was more of a question than a statement.
He let go of her abruptly and turned away, clearly disgusted by her reaction. “Oh, for the love of Christ,” he muttered.
Victoria fought against a choking feeling in the back of her throat. How had her life descended to this? She was dangerously close to tears, but she refused to cry in front of this man. He had broken her heart twice, pestered her for a week, and now he'd abducted her. Surely she was allowed a small measure of pride. “I want to go back to my own bed,” she said, her voice small.
He didn't bother to turn around when he replied, “I already told you that I will not allow you to return to that hellhole in London.”
“I meant in the next room.”
There was a long silence. “I want you here,” he finally said.
“Here?” she squeaked.
“I believe I have already said as much on two occasions.”
She decided to try another tactic and appeal to his deep sense of honor. “Robert, I know you are not the sort to take a woman against her will.”
“It isn't that,” he said with a disgusted scoff.“I don't trust you to stay put.”
Victoria swallowed the stinging retort that formed on her lips. “I promise I shan't try to escape again this evening. I give you my most solemn vow.”