Jo Beverley - [Malloren 01]

by My Lady Notorious

  Even this snail’s pace made the cloth of the drawers rub against the weals on her legs. Despite her resolutions she kept shifting, seeking a more comfortable position. She must stop it. The slightest evidence of distress would alert Cyn, and that would be the end.

  They came into Woodlands Green as a clock struck ten, and passed quietly through the sleeping hamlet.

  “Where are we going now?”

  “South, I hope.” The devil-may-care humor was back in his voice. It exasperated her even as she cherished it. It seemed impossible that anything terrible could happen to her with Cyn Malloren by her side.

  “Why south? I thought we were going to London.”

  “But any watch will be on the Bath road that passes through Maidenhead. If we go south we should meet with the Southampton road and make good speed from there. Tired?”

  “A little,” she confessed, knowing a denial wouldn’t be accepted. She wondered how many more miles this detour would add to their journey.

  “I’m not sure that I shouldn’t leave you somewhere . . . but whenever I do that, you end in a pickle.”

  Chastity stared at his shadowy shape. Was that an admission that he’d recognized her as Chloe? Surely he would have to say something . . . “What exactly do you mean by that?” she asked carefully.

  “I left you at the Saracen today and found you half-naked in a man’s arms.”

  She sagged with relief. “You needn’t make it sound as if I planned it so, and it hardly establishes a pattern.”

  “But perhaps it’s fate,” he said lightly. “If you’re destined for a man’s arms, I’d rather it be mine.”

  Chastity lacked the resolution to pursue the matter. What would she do if it became clear that he recognized Chloe? She melted at the thought of being in his arms again, but squashed the selfish longing.

  Cyn glanced at the shadowy shape of her in the dark. There were a great many things wrong and he didn’t know all of them. She seemed as fragile as cracked crystal, ready to break at the slightest shock. What had they done to her? She hadn’t told the whole truth.

  Had she, in fact, escaped the brothel?

  Had she been raped?

  He longed with an aching intensity to consign Verity and her major to the devil, and sweep Chastity off to a place where he could mend all her hurts. He wasn’t sure he could feel easy leaving her anywhere, even inside a friendly armed fortress. He had an insane desire to drag her in front of him and ride with her in his arms. It was impractical. She’d think him crazed. Why did he feel she was crying? Curse this darkness. “Are you all right?” he asked again.

  “Of course I am,” she snapped.

  He forced his worries down. He could do nothing about them here. “This lane’s rough, and I feel as if we’re going to ride into the Slough of Despond at any moment. I’m going to lead my horse.” He swung off.

  Gritting her teeth, Chastity followed suit.

  “You don’t need to.”

  “I’d rather,” she said with great honesty. Walking wasn’t entirely painless, especially now her weals had been rubbed by the cloth, but it was preferable to riding.

  They had to place each foot carefully, for the lane was badly rutted and had deep puddles in places. They didn’t avoid all of them. Chastity gave thanks they were both in boots.

  They passed through two silent hamlets. At each one Chastity almost begged that they stop and seek shelter. She fought the weakness and trudged on. She could go another mile, just one more mile . . .

  She had set herself—long ago, it seemed, and in another world—to ensuring Verity and William’s safety. This was the last stage and she would not fail them.

  She stumbled and Cyn grabbed her hand. She gasped.

  “What is it?” His finger gently touched and found a weal. “Are you hurt?”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “What happened?”

  She pulled her hand away. “I hurt it. I scraped it on something.”

  She pushed on and he followed. Chastity had tears in her eyes, as much from weariness as pain. She blessed the darkness that concealed them. She prayed that he wouldn’t make her talk.

  He stopped. “I think, though I’m damned if I’m sure, that there’s a barn over to our right, far enough from a farm to be unlikely to have cattle in it. We need a rest.”

  It was too tempting. Would she ever get moving again if they stopped? “I’m fine. We’re in a hurry.”

  “At this pace? I wanted to be well away from Maidenhead, but we’re certainly that. It makes as much sense to rest ourselves and the horses, and make good speed later, as it would to push on and exhaust ourselves. We’re even risking injury. Come on. There’s a gap in the hedge here.”

  Chastity had to follow, and in truth a large part of her was already succumbing to the allure of rest.

  The dark shape turned out to be a barn, though a ramshackle one. It contained some hay, though, and Cyn settled the horses with it, then piled the rest and covered it with his cloak. “Come on, trooper. Time to bivouac.”

  Chastity eased down, feeling every ache and pain, but relishing the sublime relief of rest. He sat down beside her in a shifting rustle. She could scarcely see him, but he was a beloved warm presence. He tucked her cloak over them.

  He lay back and touched her shoulder gently. “Lean on me. You’ll be more comfortable.”

  “What about you?”

  “I can imagine nothing more delightful.”

  Chastity wanted to, but feared he wanted to make love. She was too tired. He’d probably find her hurts. She had resolved not to allow that kind of commitment.

  “I’m not trying to seduce you,” he said calmly. “You have my word on that. We both need our rest.”

  She couldn’t distrust anything he said in that steady voice. Chastity lay back gingerly and found the hollow of his shoulder. It seemed designed to cradle her head. His arm came around her like a shield and the warmth of his body soothed her chill. Exhaustion washed over her, weighting her lids, fogging her brain. “Won’t it be dangerous for us both to sleep?”

  “Why? If your father finds us here, he’ll be using witchcraft. Go to sleep, Lady Chastity.”

  “Don’t you mind?” she mumbled.

  “What?”

  “That I’m Chastity Ware.”

  “I mind very much for your sake, love.”

  She tried to make a movement of protest, but was too exhausted. “You can’t love me.”

  “Don’t be bossy. I can do what the hell I like. Go to sleep.”

  The next thing Chastity knew was his hand touching her face.

  She opened her eyes to see a pale early light trickling into the barn through gaps in the boards. Her eyes felt gritty, her head ached. Everything ached. The few hours’ rest hadn’t helped.

  “That bastard bruised you,” he said soberly. “I should have killed him.”

  “It wasn’t him you were fighting.”

  “I should have killed them both.”

  She smiled wanly. “Start defending me, Cyn Malloren, and you’ll have to take on the world.”

  “Why not?” he asked lightly. “All I ask of life is challenge.”

  She closed her eyes in despair, but then forced them open. She’d be asleep again otherwise.

  He kissed her gently on the lips. “The first time I’ve kissed you in the morning. May it be the first of many.”

  Her heart trembled, but she said, “Unlikely.”

  He touched her chin gently. “Why is that?”

  “Once we have the license and see Verity married, you can carry on with your own life.”

  “Mmm,” he said, looking at her with lazy eyes. She thought she recognized that look. She began to ease away.

  He put out a hand to stop her. “I promised not to seduce you, Chastity.”

  “Yes.”

  “I always keep my word. Do you believe me?”

  She couldn’t deny that. “Yes.”

  “Then believe that this kiss is ju
st a kiss, not a prelude to more.” His hand moved tenderly, subtly against her cheek. “Forget the past. Forget everything. You are a highborn young lady who finds herself taking shelter with a rascal, a rascal who is smitten with her charms into stealing a kiss, but who can be trusted not to try to steal more. You can relax and enjoy it. Even if you feel obliged to slap him for it later . . .”

  He sank down on top of her and kissed her gently. At first his lips were as soft as her own breath, but then they took possession of her with slow, drugging skill which sent warm delight flowing through her. It dizzied her mind away from the chill of reality.

  When he drew back she couldn’t help but smile at him. “Kiss many young ladies like that, my lord, and you’ll not escape the wedding knot.”

  “Perhaps I don’t want to.” He raised her hand to kiss the palm. And froze. “What the devil . . . ?” He looked sharply at her. “Those aren’t scrapes.”

  She tried to pull her hand away, but he held on to it. “Who caned you? Your father?” Before she could answer, he grabbed her other hand to inspect it, then released it. “Why?” he asked. She’d never imagined his eyes could be so dangerous.

  She hastened to diffuse his anger. “I was impertinent. He was doubtless within his rights.” She smiled wryly at the memory. “Among other things, I called him a foul hypocrite.”

  He relaxed a bit, shook his head, and soothed her hurts with a feathery kiss. “A strict patriarch indeed. How old are you?”

  It seemed strange that he did not know. “Nineteen.”

  “You’re too brave and bold for nineteen, but I wouldn’t beat you for it. Doesn’t he know he has a treasure?”

  She realized Cyn didn’t understand about her father. Chastity herself didn’t understand how her father had come to be as he was, but she felt she might if she once had a chance to ponder the pieces of the puzzle.

  She told Cyn, “He doesn’t regard a bold female as a treasure. He wants me meek and sweet like Verity. We should be on our way.”

  She said it reluctantly, and he responded the same way. Neither of them wanted to leave this little heaven they had found, but duty called. He pulled her up by her left hand. By superhuman effort, Chastity didn’t cry out as her stiffened legs shrieked with pain. But he noticed.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “Just stiffness,” she said quickly. “I bruised myself all over when I fell on those cobbles. I’m starved, though. I don’t think I’ve eaten since yesterday breakfast.”

  “Lord, haven’t you? I shared a fine dinner with Frazer. Right then, on our way, and the first order of business is to feed you.”

  Chapter 16

  Chastity didn’t think she could make it onto the horse, but he accepted her story of stiffness and bruises, and helped her up. As bruises, abraded skin, and tender scabs shrieked, she told herself it would get better as she loosened up. She didn’t believe it.

  They rode slowly into a village called Wickford and halted at the Brown Cow. It was a simple, low-thatched inn, and not a posting house, but the innkeeper professed himself able to serve them breakfast in the tap-room. This proved to be empty so early in the day, but already warm with a blazing fire. Chastity eased with relief onto a settle there and held out her hands to the warmth.

  Cyn stood at the other side of the fireplace and studied her thoughtfully. “You really are at the end of your tether, aren’t you?”

  “I’ll be all right when I’ve eaten,” she lied. What else could she say? He wouldn’t leave her behind. He said nothing, but she knew he didn’t believe her, and with reason. She forced herself to sit straighter. “We can’t give up now.”

  “No, I don’t suppose we can.” He was unwontedly sober for Cyn Malloren, frowning as if over an unpleasant prospect.

  A maid came in and laid a table for them. In a moment she returned with a loaf of hot bread, butter, and a pot of coffee. Chastity’s stomach growled.

  Cyn laughed. “Come on, then. Get started on this as we wait for the rest.”

  He seated her and cut a thick slice from the loaf, layering it well with butter. As she sank her teeth into it, he poured her coffee. “Cream? Sugar?”

  She nodded, her mouth full of buttery bread. As soon as she’d swallowed, she drank some coffee. It flowed into her like liquid comfort and spirit, and was much more to her taste than brandy. She could feel herself come back to life. She grinned at him.

  He grinned back.

  How primitive one could become. At this moment, a gift of food spoke more eloquently of love than jewels or flowers.

  At the thought of love, she sobered. She took another thoughtful bite from the bread in her hand. She feared she knew what unpleasant duty he was contemplating—that of marrying this young lady he had unwittingly compromised by spending three nights in her company. And that was without knowing she was also Chloe. She was touched that his honour would drive him to offer marriage even to the Notorious Chastity Ware, but she would not allow the sacrifice.

  “That’s my girl.”

  She flicked a glance at him. He sat studying her, chin on hands. His eyes were shielded, yet she sensed something deep behind the lashes.

  She looked down again, more confused than she could ever remember. She wished, quite desperately, that they were safely back in the days of Cyn and Charles.

  Again, it was as if he picked up on her thoughts. “I like the fact that we can acknowledge the truth at last,” he said softly.

  She kept her eyes on the bread. “How long have you known?”

  There was a pause, then he said, “From the beginning.”

  Her eyes jerked up to his. “What?”

  His expression was rueful, and not a little wary. “You were very good at it, but I noticed the . . . er . . . lack of attributes.”

  Chastity felt her cheeks heat, but at that moment the maid and the innkeeper bustled in with platters of eggs, sausages, ham, and beef. They were offered ale or cider, but refused. By the time the servants had left, Chastity did not know what to say.

  She helped herself to food, then just looked at it, despite her hunger. “Why did you say nothing?” she asked. She wanted to ask, Do you know about Chloe? but that would be to give away, perhaps, more than she need.

  He cut into a slice of ham, then put his knife and fork down, no more able to eat than she. “I could sense that you needed the disguise, love, long before I knew of your problems. I didn’t know what would happen if I forced you to acknowledge the truth, but I suspected it wouldn’t be good. At least from my point of view.”

  She looked up sharply. “What do you mean by that?”

  A slight smile twitched his lips, but his eyes were very watchful. “I wanted—I needed—to know you better. What would you have done if I’d challenged you the first day?”

  Chastity thought back. “I don’t know. Probably left you behind, tied to the bed.”

  He let the smile free. “I knew my instinct for self-preservation was sound. And you’d have been caught before the day’s end.”

  “Yes.” Hunger became insistent and Chastity began to eat, but her mind reviewed their association. Dear heaven, had it only been five days? She admitted he’d had a problem. But then she remembered his teasing—the garters, the Shrewsbury biscuit, his taunts at poor naive Charles. Those dratted laces. She stared at him.

  He winced, but his lips were twitching.

  “You devil,” she said with soft intensity. “You . . . you . . .” The twitch became a grin. He was laughing at her, damn him!

  Chastity picked up the dish of soft butter and hurled it at him. It landed squishily on his gold-braided uniform, then slid down. While he sat stunned, she followed it with the loaf of bread, and the contents of the jug of milk.

  He leaped to his feet, dripping. “Plague take you, woman!” When she looked for more ammunition, he pushed her away from the table.

  “You low creeping swine!” she yelled at him.

  “Snake.”

  Chastity gaped. “What?�
��

  “Swine don’t creep. Snakes do.” He was back to laughing at her.

  “I don’t believe this! You’ve lied to me, tormented me, led me into the most terrible situations.” She emphasized each point with a poke at his squishy waistcoat. “And now you’re going to correct my English!”

  He let her poke him back against the table, but he wasn’t at all repentant. “You kidnapped me, stole my goods, bound me, threatened me. And when it comes to tormenting, my sweet, wanton harpy from hell, you could give lessons.”

  Chastity felt the blood drain from her head, but the only words that came out were an inadequate “Oh, dear.”

  He stepped forward and now it was her turn to retreat. “I choose to take that as an endearment.” He grabbed her by the shoulders. “We’re two of a kind, Chastity Ware. If I hadn’t known Chloe with my brain, I’d have know her with my body.”

  She tried to jerk away, but he wrapped her in his arms. “I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you.” He gently tilted her chin up. “But deuce take it,” he said, the grin breaking out again, “it’s been worth every entangled moment.”

  She tried to glare, but the merriment in his eyes brought a gurgle of laughter from her. “Are you never serious?”

  “Not if I can help it.” He dropped a kiss on the end of her nose. Then, disconcertingly, he turned truly serious. “But I’m not an idiot, or a flibbertigibbet, Chastity. I’m a man, and a soldier. I’ve seen things I hope you never see.”

  He hesitated, frowning. Chastity didn’t know what was wrong, but she wanted to soothe him. She held him a little tighter and hoped he read it aright. He hugged her back, so perhaps he did.

  “I remember a battle,” he said soberly. “It was the most damnable weather. Icy sleet. It wasn’t too bad during action, but when night fell we were stuck in the open with no shelter.” He looked down at her, watching her. “We built a shelter of corpses, ours and theirs, and slept very snug . . .”