“Kate?” He stroked his chin and watched as she stuffed in another bite, then she stopped halfway as if she finally noticed her slip of the tongue by not introducing herself by her last name. “Rather similar to Shakespeare’s Taming of the Shrew, Kate?” he asked.
“Not far from it, I’m afraid.” She gave him a girlish smile that seemed to twist around his heart like a steaming stew on a cold winter night. “You do recall the hearty kick I gave you?”
“I remember. Are you always so–”
“Stubborn like a mule?” She raised a delicate brow as she picked up her wine.
“Ah, I see you have a bit of steel wrapped in those innocent brown eyes. Probably give your parents quite the run around, eh?” A flash of pain seemed to work its way to her eyes, and then as swiftly as it appeared, it was gone. He could have kicked himself. Had she run away from home? Or did she have a darker secret?
“My father always said I was stubborn,” she said, dropping her gaze. “My mother died when I was quite young.”
Tristan immediately scolded himself. So, she had no mother. Well, neither did he, if one’s definition of a mother included love. Hell and spitfire! He didn’t have time for this girl or her business. He needed to find that blasted diamond.
The last communication he received from Whitehall conveyed the urgency of his mission. Somehow, there had been a leak. A group of Napoleon sympathizers had received directives to obtain the diamond at any costs.
Now, there were many British agents involved in the search, but Tristan was still the most likely candidate to find the gem. His mission was more important than ever.
“...But the weather was horrid outside, and I know my kick was probably a shock to you, so I forgive your, well, boorish, or perhaps I should say, overbearing behavior.”
Tristan blinked. Boorish? Overbearing? Wine sputtered from his mouth when he realized Kate had pressed a warm hand upon his and was speaking to him.
“You forgive me?” he choked out.
Her brown eyes twinkled with what? Mischief? Or was it that naïve innocence again?
“Of course. Even lords can be forgiven you know.” She brushed some mud off her cloak and smiled. “And as you can see, I am no mule.”
It was all Tristan could do not to break out in laughter. It was unbelievable that this girl was intent on forgiving him. She truly meant what she said. Dash it. The chit was as naive as he thought. And still as stubborn as a mule.
“Fine,” was all he could utter. He had never encountered a female such as her. Never.
He twiddled his thumbs as he watched her devour every morsel of food on her plate. His discerning gaze focused on her weary smile and intelligent eyes.
The scent of sweet lavender seeped past the muddy layers of her cloak, and he felt another overwhelming wave of protectiveness sweep through him. Where was she going? What was she doing out on a night like this, unchaperoned? And what business was it of his?
Trying to push his wayward thoughts to the back of his mind, he wondered where Fletcher and that cursed diamond had disappeared to. The meeting was to be tonight. What the deuce had gone wrong?
“Where’s Mr. Fletcher?”
The drunken sailor gulped hard as he fought against the firm grip the scar-faced man held over his throat. “I ain’t knowing a thing, guvnah. Not a thing.”
A damp tavern wall pressed up against the sailor’s back. Not twenty yards away, the Thames glistened beneath the drizzling rain as billows of spray hit the docks.
The scar-faced man choked out a grim laugh. “I saw you with him in the tavern, you fool.” His grip on the sailor tightened. “Are you going to tell me the truth, or do I do this the hard way?
The sailor swallowed, glancing briefly toward the swaying shadows of his shipmates as they passed by the alleyway. “Mr. Fletcher was drunk, guvnah. Didn’t know what he was saying.”
Two black eyes narrowed in rage. “Where did he go? You sat by him all night, cavorting with those harlots. Don’t tell me he wasn’t blabbing about a two hundred carat diamond and you don’t know a thing about it.”
“He’s...waiting in the hack...down the way.”
The scar-faced man dropped his hand. “Thank you kindly, mate.”
The young sailor let out a groan of relief.
“Where’s he headed?” the attacker growled.
The sailor stepped away, his body trembling. “He ain’t the remembering type when he’s been drinking. Off to some inn. Late, he is. Rain and all. Paid me to accompany him, he did.”
“Guard him and the diamond, you mean.” The man laughed as he grabbed the sailor again.
The sailor gasped at the point of a dagger flashing before him. “B-but guvnah, I ain’t done nothing wrong.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, matey. You were at the wrong place, at the wrong time. That’s all. Nothing personal.”
Kate leaned against the wooden seat in the Hunting Fox Inn, feeling the long voyage and the strong wine take hold of her body. Most of the customers were settled in their rooms or passed out at their tables. She almost laughed at the thought of Matthew popping in on her now.
“Time to rest.”
The earl’s firm voice startled her out of her weariness. She glanced up, finding his gaze studying her wet hood and what lay beneath it. A shiver of awareness shot through her. For some absurd reason, she wished she were in her ballgown, making him see what she truly looked like when the gentlemen in Boston vied for her attention. Instead, she shrank back.
But this wasn’t Boston. This was England, and she was very far from home - without a chaperone. She barely had time to blink when the earl rose and swept her into his arms, thrusting the birdcage in her hand and heading toward the stairs.
“Put me down this instant,” she hissed, feeling the eyes of a few nighttime stragglers grinning her way. This was not at all proper. And she truly hoped Matthew was out to sea and not having second thoughts about following her.
“I do not bite, my dear.”
“And I am perfectly able to walk on my own,” she snapped.
But her words were voiced to no avail. The man’s hold on her was firm. He paid no heed to her plea and continued up the flight of stairs with the innkeeper showing him the way.
For a moment he dropped his emerald gaze. Her eyes locked with his, and there was a pang of warmth in the pit of her stomach.
The corner of his eyes crinkled, and she looked away, her mind reeling with confusion. Her muddy boots swayed helplessly in the air, and her heart pounded against her ribs.
“I repeat, I do not bite,” he said smoothly, trying to reassure her. “You are perfectly safe.”
She tightened her hold on the birdcage as it swung back and forth in her hand and eased another peek at his chiseled profile. His jaw stiffened in response to what she could only think was her fidgeting. She winced. Though his hold on her made her feel safe, she knew she should not be in his arms at all.
“It’s divine. Simply divine,” the parrot sang out.
The earl’s expression began to harden as his booted heels clacked down the hall.
Uncomfortable, she drew her lips together, burrowing deeper into the muddy cloak. Goodness. The man was too attractive to lock eyes with, especially when he held her so intimately. She could sense an overwhelming power flowing from him, and for once in her life, she felt thoroughly intimidated. He was disturbing to her peace of mind and dangerous as well.
“Please, let me down,” she whispered.
But he wasn’t listening. His face grew taut and he seemed annoyed with her. She breathed in his leathery scent, and a hot ache grew in her throat. She was conscious of his strong hands wrapped around her body, and the problem was, she was beginning to enjoy it.
What was wrong with her? He was a total stranger. She didn’t like not being in control.
“Handsome needs me,” she blurted out.
That sparked a reaction from him. He jostled her body in his arms. “Handsome shall be quit
e fine. I’ll see that the owner keeps him inside for the night and finds him a good home.”
He looked pointedly in her direction and stopped, letting the innkeeper walk further ahead of them. “Does that satisfy you?”
“It’s divine. Just divine,” the parrot piped.
The earl scowled. “Can’t you shut that creature up?”
Kate shrugged, biting back a chuckle. What a stick-in-the-mud. She almost enjoyed disturbing this man’s peace. She felt a bit disordered, why not this handsome earl, too?
“I, er, have no idea how to keep the bird quiet. I said before that Mr. Divine was a gift.”
The man raised a skeptical brow, as if to say she could not even manage a dumb parrot.
For a moment, she thought she saw a flash of a smile beneath that rough exterior, but it was soon replaced by a manly grimace - and he certainly was a man in every sense of the word. There was no denying that.
His touch made her limbs tingle like a warm fire. But when she shifted her position, he looked as if she had stuck him with a knife. “If you keep squirming, perhaps I shall bite.”
She stilled every muscle in her body as the proprietor opened the door to her room and left. The earl’s boots clicked past the threshold. He halted, looking about the chambers.
He let her slip from his body. Her boots hit a worn blue-braided rug in the middle of the room. “Your room, madam.”
His hands seemed to linger on her waist a little longer than need be, as if he were assessing her health. The mere touch of his fingers caused a sudden burst of sparks in the pit of her stomach.
She looked up to meet his gaze and blinked in surprise as his lips curled into a frown.
He hastily stepped away. “You have hot water for your bath.”
He pointed to the steaming tub in the corner of the room. She nodded and bent down to place the birdcage onto the floor. He seemed so formal now, it was hard to believe that he was the same man who had protected her from the vultures downstairs.
“And a warm bed to sleep in,” he continued, clearing his throat. “I’ll be seeing you in the morning. If you need anything else, I will be in the next room.”
He turned on his heels to leave and glanced over his shoulders. “Good night–”
It was obvious he didn’t know her entire name, and she had no intention in giving it to him. Formality was the least of her worries now.
“Kate,” she smiled, vexing him. “My name is Kate.”
And that was about all she was willing to tell him tonight. Because if Matthew ever discovered her whereabouts this evening, it would be the end of her traveling. No, it was better for the gentleman to call her Kate, however inappropriate it may be.
But what about him? He was an earl, she knew that much from the proprietor. But his name? Did he know her uncle? She opened her mouth to speak, but heard him clear his throat again. Perhaps he had taken a chill.
“Do not even think of going downstairs or outside your chambers without me.” It was not a suggestion. It was a command.
She threw her hands to her hips in outrage, her eyebrows lifting in surprise. First Matthew, now him? Enough was enough.
“What gives you the right to tell me what I can and cannot do?”
His gaze widened in disbelief that she would dare to question him. “You would do best to heed my warning, Kate. Beyond these walls exist those who would delight in seeing you alone.” He looked her over, his lips thinning into a disapproving line.
Kate dropped her jaw in shock at his outlandish survey of her person. Well, she might look helpless in her disheveled state, but Katherine Josephine Wilcox knew what was what when the vultures were circling their prey. She was no addlepated ninny.
“Lock this room as soon as I leave,” he said, and before she knew it, he had slammed the door behind him and was gone.
Kate snapped her mouth closed. The gall of the man. He had no right to order her around. He was only a man. An earl, yet a plain, ordinary man. But a man who made her heart jump out of her chest every time he touched her. A man who, with just one dart of his emerald gaze, sent her blood pumping. A very handsome man!
She shook her head. Heaven help her. Her brain was becoming mush. That was the only way she could account for the strange feelings stirring inside her. Pure mush.
In the adjacent bedchamber, Tristan jerked off his Hessians and let them drop to rug. It was quite a task without his valet, but he had mastered it. Since this was a secret rendezvous, he had left his man at home.
He rolled his tired shoulders, took off his jacket, and loosened his cravat and shirt. Sinking into the chair beside the bed, he raised his tired legs, resting them on the mattress.
His foot throbbed from the weather and most assuredly from that swift kick he received a bit earlier. It was if the girl had known exactly where his Achilles’ heel was and had smacked it for all it was worth. Pushing away the pain, he concentrated on his missed rendezvous with Harold Fletcher. For some odd reason the man had never showed.
Disgusted, Tristan leaned back and gazed up at the peeling, yellow ceiling. He could not have been mistaken about the time and place of the appointment. The diamond was still in England. He could feel it in his bones. Something must have gone wrong. Perhaps Andrews would be able to find some information about Fletcher.
His thoughts immediately lingered back to the waif in the neighboring room. Her kindness with the dog was foolish, but it had touched him. He’d thought that type of tenderness came only from angels.
He must have been daft when he caught a whiff of lavender floating past her wet cloak. When he had eyed her body from head to toe, holding her as if she were his, he realized he was a bit more than daft. He was deranged. She was only a child.
His brows drew together as he recalled those doe eyes that had disappeared into her cloak, refusing to surface. A surge of protectiveness had flowed through him when he’d first seen her in the rain. As for the storm outside, it seemed to have stopped, leaving the moon glowing like a dazzling silver ball in the darkened sky.
He glanced at the wall beside him, knowing that at least she would be safe until morning. But what the devil had she been doing out on a night like this? And alone?
The corners of his mouth curled upward into a slow, satisfying smile. One thing for certain, the chit didn’t take orders very well, from him or anybody. The man who eventually wooed her would be in for a sorry surprise indeed.
He wondered if the girl had locked her door. Yes, of course, she had. She may be ill, but she wasn’t stupid. He recalled her flashing brown eyes and let out an amused sigh.
Within seconds, he began to drift asleep, oblivious to the man prowling outside his room, sliding a beefy hand over the glint of steel at his hip in search of his prey.
Chapter Four
Kate was almost asleep when she heard the floorboards creak beside her bed. She forgot to lock her door, she repeated to herself. Dear Lord, help her! She forgot to lock her door!
Her eyes snapped open and her heart beat wildly as her gaze locked on the shadowy figure hovering over her bed. Before she could scream, a cold hand crushed over her mouth.
“Where’s the earl, sweet thing? I know he was with you tonight.”
Kate’s eyes widened in horror at the metal that flashed in the moonlight.
Lock your door as soon as I leave. The earl’s last words to her banged against her brain as strong fingers squeezed her cheeks and the sharp point of a knife pricked against her skin.
The ludicrous thought came to her that if this man didn’t kill her, Matthew surely would for putting herself in this horrid situation.
“Where is he?” the man growled. “His lordship. Where is he?”
The earl? He wanted the earl? She was slowly beginning to gather her wits.
“Be a good little gel and I’ll be treating you real nice. I’m gonna let you go, and I ain’t wanting you to scream or I’ll be slicing that smooth white neck of yours with one whack of me blade. Understand?
”
Kate nodded, inhaling the bitter smell of spirits.
“There’s a good chit.” His hand released its death grip on her mouth, and she let out a gasp.
“Now, tell me where his lordship is, and maybe after I’m done with this little job, I’ll be coming back here to teach you a few things.” His grimy hand slid across her neck in a hideous caress.
Kate’s skin crawled with fear as she stared back into a pair of dark beady eyes. Eyes that reminded her of a weasel back home that had been caught stealing eggs from the chicken coop. Fearless eyes. Eyes that could kill without a thought, then move on to its next victim.
“I d-don’t know where he is.”
The man burst forth with an eerie snarl. A vile heat washed through Kate. With all her heart, she wished she had followed her brother’s orders and taken Mrs. Hollingsworth along with her as chaperone. I’m sorry, Matthew. Forgive me.
“Don’t lie to me, wench. I seen his lordship carry you out of the tap. He’s coming back. I ain’t that stupid.”
Alarmed, Kate noted the man’s hand tighten on the heel of the dagger. With the other hand, he whipped the quilt off her bed and greedily eyed her body.
“You’re a skinny one, you are, but he’ll be back. He’s a man, ain’t he?” His chuckle sounded like the gates of hell swinging open to meet her. “They all come back.”
“I d-don’t know the earl. I j-just met him. He gave me this room for the night. H-he felt sorry for me.”
The man’s raucous laugh slammed into her ears. “And I’m the King of England, missy. Blimey, he ain’t sorry for you. What a stupid wench.”
He leaned over and grabbed a fist full of hair, yanking her close. “But sometimes those are the best kind. Know what I mean?”
A climbing anger slowly began to overtake the fear lodging in Kate’s throat. Stupid wench!
As soon as the man let go of her hair and leaned down to press his slimy lips against her neck, Kate grabbed the unlit lantern on the nightstand beside her and whacked it against the intruder’s head.
Once Upon A Diamond (A sweet Regency Historical Romance) Page 5