Well, enough was enough. She fisted her hands at her sides. At the very least, she should show some metal, attempt to escape Perrydale, and return home. However much Harold might think her a burden, she was sure he wouldn’t turn her away from his door. Not until she had collected her belongings.
She made a sudden decision. She would escape and return to London, where upon she would collect what was hers and then choose what to do.
Chapter Seven
A Quiet Departure
Blast these skirts! Why couldn’t women wear trousers, like men? She had never heard a man rustle when he walked, or seen one trip over a trouser hem. She had chosen the least crisp and most comfortable gown available to her in an attempt to keep her escape a secret but, in the silence of the house, the pale pink silk swished as loudly as the thrashing rain of a few days previously.
Doing the best she could with little time for planning, she had wrapped her suppertime bread and cheese in a napkin and put it in her pillowcase along with a few necessities for her journey. A hairbrush, a wrap, fresh undergarments, shoes, and her reticule, which contained a few coins that she hoped would be enough to pay for a night’s lodging along the way.
She clutched the pillowcase with one hand and felt her way along the darkened hallway with the other, as she shuffled past the doorways to the head of the stairs.
It took her a moment to wonder that she could see her way so clearly down the wide, wooden staircase seeing as there was only the slimmest slice of moon casting its light through the window in the hallway. A second’s pause brought her up short. That wasn’t moonlight. The pale yellow glow came from the open door of one of the rooms further back along the ground floor. Fearing her plan was about to go awry, she didn’t stop to investigate which one, or who might be up at this time of night, but quickly left the staircase behind her and slid along the wall to the front door.
Lucas lifted his head and listened to the clock ticking on the mantelpiece. The mechanism was as regular as clockwork and sounded loud in the quiet of the house. Tick, tock, shush. Tick, tock, shush. He stared at the machine for a long moment before realizing that the shush sound was something quite unfamiliar and nothing to do with counting the hours. He tilted his head and listened again.
The sound had sped up, out of time with the ticking clock now. Faster, more urgent, shush, shush, shush. And there was a slight patter accompanying it too. Slippered footsteps! A woman’s tread; as light as a fairy running over dew covered moss. They could only be caused by one person in the house. And it wasn’t his housekeeper, Mrs. Granger. She always wore stout, leather shoes that made a reassuring clip as they crossed any uncarpeted floor. Nor was it the maid, Evelyn, who dusted and cleaned with such vigour. She was a buxom lass who strode about with purpose and energy, not with footsteps as light as a feather. Neither was it Mary, Angel’s personal maid. That woman might be small and getting on in years, but she stomped so loudly over the wooden floors that Lucas feared for some of the foundations!
No, this had to be his Angel, venturing from her room at last. He stood silently and took a soft step towards his study door, making sure he didn’t cast a shadow in the lamplight. What was she doing up at this time of night? Going to the kitchen to catch up on some of her missed dinners? No, she had already passed the under stairs door, besides, he wasn’t sure that she knew the way to the kitchen seeing as she hadn’t explored the house before.
So, perhaps she was looking for a book. The library was clearly her destination. Perhaps he should go and help her choose something; offer to reach for an epic adventure from one of the highest shelves? He was about to step out from the shadows when he noticed her pass the library, sliding quietly against the wooden panelling as she tiptoed quickly down the hall.
Towards the front door.
What the devil? Where did she think she was going in the middle of the night? And in a totally unsuitable frock. Which one was it? The pale pink chiffon with the pearl enhancements? Good Lord! It was! His eyes widened in surprise. It was not his favourite of the fabrics he had chosen after Pierce showed little aptitude or interest in Angelique’s new wardrobe. He preferred the more vibrant apple green silk that Madame Lesmaes had shown them, but Angelique still looked positively ravishing as she stole along the darkened hallway. His thoughts strayed to what she might be wearing beneath the lovely gown. Had she put on any of the underwear he had so painstakingly chosen? The images his mind conjured almost sent him running down the hall after her, but his good sense and curiosity prevailed.
What did she intend doing? Was she going for a midnight stroll? Was she meeting someone? A friend?
A lover!
While wearing the gown and undergarments he had chosen?
Over his own dead body!
An unbidden inferno of fury swept through him. No! She’s mine! His whole body screamed at him to stop her, and he was about to charge out of the room, ready to fight whoever she was meeting to the death, when he suddenly saw the lumpy, white sack held over her shoulder, and realized his error.
She wasn’t meeting anyone. She had no one to meet.
The truth lay heavy in his stomach. She was running away. From Perrydale.
And from him.
Drawing back into the doorway, he watched her hand turn the front door’s big knob, and held his breath as he waited. The familiar creak of the old iron hinges straining under the weight of the solid oak, shattered the night’s silence, and he almost laughed aloud as she jumped back in surprise, fingertips curling into her palm as if the doorknob had been too hot to touch.
She gave a hurried glance about the entrance hall, then stretched out her hand again. She tugged quickly and the door gave a sharp squeal of protest. Angelique let go of the door knob, put her knapsack on the floor and her hands on her hips, and gave a small huff of annoyance before muttering some quiet words.
A few seconds later, he saw her shoulders square up. Determined little thing. Not one to give up at the first hurdle. He had to admire her pluck. She tried the door one last time, and pulled it open just enough for her to slide through the narrow gap.
Picking up what he now discerned to be one of his finest linen pillowcases, she didn’t hesitate a moment longer and slipped out into the darkness. Lucas didn’t dither either. He left his hiding place and followed silently, only shifting the door a few inches further to allow his large, but slim frame through.
Angelique didn’t know how she put one foot in front of the other. Her heart beat so hard she could barely breathe, let alone think of what she might do once she reached the stables. Who knew that such a well run house could have such ill kept hinges. The whine of protest they had given as she pulled the door open almost had her fainting to the floor.
Not that she was prone to fits of fainting, but she had been so surprised. Everything else in the house appeared to be spotlessly clean and exceedingly well kept, and she hadn’t noticed any audible sound as she had arrived the few days previously. But then it had been daylight. There had been the noise from the horses, from Mary walking with her, even the sharp clipping of Henry’s heels. Perhaps she simply hadn’t noticed that the door fixtures sorely needed a good dose of oil.
She shook off her fright and gathered her senses, taking a calming gulp of fresh air while she scouted about. Her room was at the back of the house overlooking the beautiful lake. Lucas had ridden around the lake, and disappeared to the left of the house, which meant that the stables were somewhere around to her right.
Squaring her shoulders again, she avoided the gravelled drive and kept to the flowerbeds running along the front of the huge house. The firm, dark earth pressed into the bottom of her slippers, and for a moment she regretted not putting on her shoes, but they would have made a terrible noise on the floors inside Perrydale. At least by keeping to the flowerbeds her feet didn’t crunch on the stones covering the forecourt.
The night was warm yet fresh, the humidity of the previous days having vanished with the afternoon’s much welco
me breeze, but she could feel the beads of perspiration breaking out on her brow as she rounded the corner of the house and saw the stables.
She had never ridden a horse, nor even saddled one before. And the closest she had come to mounting one of the beasts had been through reading tales of derring-do where intrepid heroes flung themselves on their animals, in a desperate attempt to rescue fair maidens. She thought about leaping upon an animal so large and immediately had some hurried, if a little tardy, misgivings. Would she even be able to mount the huge beast? She worried her lip with her teeth and wished she had thought about her escapade more carefully before setting out.
She glanced up at the house. Her prison for the last three days. It was a pity it didn’t look more like one, but no, it looked just as beautiful in the slither of moonlight, all shadowed and interesting, as it had when she first saw it. A sigh left her lips, but she didn’t sway in her determination. She had to leave and go home to London before all was lost.
She turned her mind back to the potential difficulties of mounting a horse. A small problem perhaps, but her father and brother and all the other gentlemen she had ever seen had made it look to be a simple enough motion. A little more difficult in her dress perhaps, but she doubted that Lucas Caruthers owned a side saddle. Besides, sitting on one looked to be a most precarious affair. At least if she sat astride she might have some chance of staying on. Perhaps if she lifted her skirts and tucked them up somehow... She stopped as she heard a soft nicker followed by some gentle clopping. Lucas Caruthers own mount perhaps, or one of the carriage horses moving about on straw covered cobbles?
She dropped her bag again and strained to lift the bar on the stable door. Good grief! But it was heavy. She took a few recovery breaths before picking up her pillowcase and taking a step into the darkness, breathing in the wonderful smells of fresh hay, animals, and leather.
Several large shadows appeared over stall doors, nodding in her direction as she walked towards them. Heavens! They were so much bigger up close. But this wasn’t the time to be a coward. She was almost free. Just a moment to sort out her skirts. She drew up the yards of material and tucked each handful into the waist of her unmentionables. Now all she needed was a bridle and saddle and she would be off, heading homewards to freedom.
She didn’t know why the thought didn’t fill her with joy, but she wasn’t about to be put off now. A moment later she had found the bolt to the nearest stable door. She slid it back and was about to step inside when a deliciously familiar scent, assaulted her seconds before a warm hand closed over her mouth and another stilled her hand.
A quiet, but deep voice whispered at her ear.
“I beg your forgiveness, Angel, but Blaze won’t take kindly to any other rider. Especially if he is disturbed during the middle of the night.”
Lucas Caruthers had found her, captured her again. She struggled against his hold, but with his rock hard body against her back and his arms around her, she had no way to evade him.
What would he do to her? Would he beat her as her father had her mother? Would he shout and bellow and stomp, as Harold was wont to do? Would Lucas lock her in a closet, slap her face, or throw her into the lake?
Her thoughts spun wildly, each scenario becoming worse than the last as she fought him, twisting, turning, tears running down her cheeks. He was everywhere, too strong, too big, too tall.
But he smelled good too. And his hands were gentle, if firm, on her skin. Were those his lips touching her ear? His hair brushing her neck? And what was that enormous, hard lump pressing against her spine? She gave up fighting him. There was no point. He had discovered her flight. He would do what he wanted and she had no power to resist him.
Following her had been easy. Such was her concentration on her goal that she hadn’t heard his footsteps only a few paces behind her, but even that short distance had been enough to still his heart as she went to open Blaze’s stall.
The animal was a giant, usually well mannered enough, but quick to temper when tired, and Lucas had put him through his paces only a few hours previously. The animal was likely to kick out or bite if anyone he didn’t know came to call.
But a shrill scream of fright wouldn’t have been ideal either. A quick step and a hand over her mouth had been the only solution to the immediate problem. What he didn’t expect was her wild reaction.
Ow! She actually bit his palm! And kicked his shin with her heel! She squirmed like an eel caught on a line. Oof! An elbow to his stomach knocked the wind out of him. Good Lord! Had her brother given her tips? He was going to be black and blue.
But she was clearly terrified. What did she think he was going to do? Harm her? Hit her? That he would never do. His only thought had been to save her from Blaze’s unpredictable temper. But those were panicked noises coming from beneath his injured palm. Small, desperate noises that broke his heart to hear.
Lucas tightened his hold on her. If he let her go now, there was no telling what she might do.
“Angel, stop fighting me. I swear that I will do you no harm, but what I say about Blaze is true. He will not allow you to go near him, let alone ride him off into the night.” He kept his voice calm as she continued to wriggle against him. Hell! Now what had she done! Her tantalizing body was inflicting havoc upon his. His cock strained at his fall. It took him a moment to will his body back under control. “Angel, listen to me. It is me, Lucas. I am not here to hurt you. Please be calm. Blaze is becoming restless and he can be the very devil when annoyed.” She suddenly went still in his arms, her breasts rising and falling against his forearm.
“Lucas! Please, I cannot breathe. I swear that I will not scream,” she gasped from between his fingers and he gradually peeled them away from her mouth. “Thank you.” She didn’t attempt to move out of his arms, and he wasn’t inclined to release her. Not yet. Perhaps not ever. She fit against him so well, the dip in her spine perfectly aligned to him.
She gave the tiniest wriggle.
“So what are you going to do with me, now that you have caught me?” Her chin lifted a fraction, a hint of her perfume tantalizing his senses. How had he never thought of the flowers as tantalizing before? He enjoyed their scent for a few seconds before speaking again.
“Caught you? Caught you doing what? Trying to steal my horse? Well, yes, perhaps I will have to punish you,” he breathed into her ear again not bothering to hide the desire in his tone. He bit back a groan as she whirled in his arms, her breasts pressing against his shirt.
Her eyes sparkled up at him.
“I was not stealing your...” She stopped as she realized that was exactly what she had intended doing. Her chin tilted higher. “I was simply about to teach myself how to ride.” As if learning to ride in the middle of the night, in a totally unsuitable gown and with a bag of stolen contraband at your side was a perfectly normal thing to do.
Lucas peered down at her and tilted his head to one side as he tried not to laugh.
“Learning to ride, Miss Lancer. I see. Well, in that case I must assist you. Best shed some light on the matter before we begin.” He let her go before reaching out and feeling along a nearby shelf. The next moment he held a lit lamp in his hand. “Easier if you can see what you are doing, I normally find.” His mouth suddenly fell open as he saw her skirts tucked into her bloomers for the first time. If his manhood hadn’t been as hard as granite already, it certainly was now.
She had the grace to blush, quickly pulling the crushed material from its temporary tethers.
“Lord Caruthers, you are amusing yourself at my expense.” She kept her eyes on the straw covered cobbles.
Lucas shook his head even while he smiled at her frantic movements to cover herself.
“Not at all, Miss Lancer. And you may call me Lucas. All my friends do, you know.”
Dress back in place, she glanced up at him, her long eyelashes casting shadows across her cheeks.
“Am I your friend? I confess that it does not feel like it. At the moment, I fee
l I am your captive to do with as you will.”
Did her voice tremble suddenly? Did she really fear him? Did she not know that she was the one who held him prisoner? Clearly not. The clods of earth sitting in Lucas’ stomach rolled around, settling themselves uncomfortably. Lord, but he had made a mess of things, and had no idea how to sort them out.
“I do apologize, Miss Lancer. It was not my intention to make you feel unwelcome. Quite the opposite, in fact. You were meant to find it so peaceful here, the library so interesting that you didn’t want to leave. I had prepared the hunting lodge specifically for your stay, but have not yet had the opportunity to take you there.”
The fear in her expression changed to astonishment.
“The hunting lodge? As if this house wasn’t enough, you have a hunting lodge too?” She gaped at him.
Lucas shrugged, relieved that the apprehension had turned to surprise. It was time to begin telling the truth.
“I can take no credit for the making of Perrydale. It was already established long before I was born. But the place was not entailed and my grandfather left it to me. All I have had to do is pay for its upkeep since inheriting. Something that helped me in my decision to begin prize fighting. There was no way I could afford the place without doing something drastic. Luckily I am handy with my fists.” He grimaced as she stepped back quickly, the dread overtaking the hard won curiosity. He hastily returned to her original observation. “The hunting lodge is beautiful. Not large, but what it lacks in size is far outweighed by its glorious situation. It lies on the other side of the forest beyond the chapel and lake. Perhaps you would like to view it sometime.” He strode over to some saddles sitting on a frame. “Here, I think this is the one for you.” He picked up a saddle and bypassing the nearest stall, walked to the other end of the stable before glancing back over his shoulder. “Are you coming, Miss Lancer? You won’t learn much from over there.” He beckoned her closer.
A Ring of Midnight Orchids: Flowers of the Aristocracy (Untamed Regency Book 3) Page 9