by Kate Bateman
“She should seduce him,” Aunt Prudence said firmly. “Look at her. She’s beautiful enough to make a man agree to anything.”
Maddie smiled. “I appreciate the vote of confidence, but you’re biased. The earl’s refused far prettier girls than me.”
“You’ll have to outwit him, then,” Constance said. “We might be no match for men physically, but we women have been outfoxing ’em in the brains department for millennia.”
“The string in the Minotaur’s maze was Ariadne’s idea,” Maddie murmured.
“Precisely! History’s full of clever women, getting what they want. And you’re just as clever as old Ariadne.” Aunt Constance squeezed her hand. “You’ll find a way to get us that dictionary, Maddie, I know it.”
Chapter 20
Gratified by the Aunts’ confidence, Maddie returned to her room and composed a letter to Gryff, asking him to meet her on neutral ground, at the clearing by the well. She waited with barely restrained impatience for a reply, and when it finally came, with Gryff’s agreement to meet her at five o’clock that afternoon, she experienced the same excited, butterflies-in-the-stomach feeling she’d felt on waking.
Father would be horrified to know she was negotiating with the enemy, but the possibility of raising upward of five hundred pounds for the family coffers was worth a little fraternization.
Harriet frowned when she heard the plan.
“You’re going alone? Would you like me to ride with you?”
“No, it’s all right. The days of a Davies dispatching a Montgomery and hiding the body in the woods are long gone.”
Harriet sent her a piercing look. “I wasn’t talking about mortal danger, Maddie, but Lord Powys’s reputation with women is legendary. Aren’t you worried he might try to seduce you?”
The memory of their stolen kiss flashed heat across her skin, but Maddie fixed her cousin with a sunny smile. “Of course not. He still thinks of me as the girl he loved to torture back when we were younger. I’ll be fine.”
Harriet didn’t look convinced, but she returned her attention to the map she was illustrating. Maddie went to the stables and saddled Sir Galahad, then set off across the parkland toward the west gate, where Gryff had left her the night before.
In contrast with the dark-green habit she’d worn yesterday, today she’d chosen her most flattering outfit: a formfitting riding jacket and matching skirt in peacock blue, which enhanced the reddish highlights in her hair and made her skin glow. Or perhaps it was the thought of crossing swords with her nemesis again that had brought the color to her cheeks? What was it Gryff had said about having an enemy? Invigorating, he’d called it. She had to agree. Exchanging banter and insults with him was rather addictive.
He was already in the clearing when she arrived, and her skin prickled at the way his gaze traveled over her curves as she dismounted.
“What’s all this about?” he asked curtly.
The direct question flustered her, and she noted with a little thrill of alarm that he didn’t look particularly welcoming. In fact, he looked rather annoyed to have been summoned. The loose coat he’d worn last night had been replaced with a severely cut dark blue jacket and a pair of buff breeches that disappeared into spotless black leather riding boots. The whiteness of his cravat was a stark contrast to the tanned skin of his jaw.
The strength of his body was apparent in every taut line and broad curve. She swallowed a sudden tightness in her throat.
His gaze lingered on her face for another heart-stopping second, and then he turned his head away, as if he couldn’t bear the sight of her, and slapped the end of his riding crop idly against the side of his boot.
“Did you go and see Sir Mostyn?” she asked warily.
His lip curled in contempt. “I did. The man hasn’t improved since I last saw him. You’d think he’d be grateful for information about people breaking the law in his district, but he seemed more concerned about the fact that I’d interrupted his breakfast.”
Maddie gave a snort of amusement. “What did he say?”
“I told him about the contraband, and that I’d witnessed a man called Sadler and two others beat Brookes and leave him for dead. I also told him of their plan to move the cargo on Sunday.”
“You didn’t say I was with you, did you?”
He sent her a cynical glance. “Of course not, Miss Montgomery. Your spotless reputation is perfectly safe. Unless the doctor decides to gossip.”
Maddie breathed a silent sigh of relief. “Did you tell him you’d be able to recognize the men again, if you saw them?”
“I did. He said he’d deal with it.”
“Oh. Well, good.”
Gryff paced to the low wall of the well and leaned back on it casually, crossing his booted ankles. “Sir Mostyn did ask if I’d seen you since I’d returned to the area.”
Maddie glanced up warily. “What did you tell him?”
To her intense annoyance, a blush rose on her skin. Gryff hadn’t just seen her. He’d touched her. Kissed her. Tasted her. And, if she was completely honest, she wanted him to do it again.
His hungry gaze lingered on her mouth, and despite his forbidding expression she knew he was thinking about it too.
“I told him we’d had a brief conversation,” he said drily.
Oh, please, let’s continue that conversation.
Maddie bit back the traitorous words.
“He’s looking forward to seeing you at Squire Digby’s,” Gryff said.
Maddie couldn’t contain her groan. She was about to say more when a twig snapped behind her and Gryff’s head whipped around. He straightened and scanned the trees that ringed the clearing.
She was about to tease him for his overactive vigilance—presumably a remnant from his soldiering days—when she heard a sharp crack and something whistled past her. A chunk of the stone wall next to Gryff shattered, sending fragments shooting out in a puff of limestone, and she squinted behind her in confusion.
“What was that?”
“Get down!” Gryff growled.
A rider burst from the trees to their left and Maddie gasped as she registered the pistol in his hand. Gryff lunged for her, his hard body slamming into hers as he tackled her to the ground, just as the rider fired again.
The breath left her lungs in a painful wheeze as they landed, but Gryff’s weight left her almost immediately as he sprang back to his feet.
She crawled forward, blindly seeking the protection of the wall, and glanced up just as the attacker threw down his spent pistol and raised an ugly-looking cudgel instead—the same kind used to beat Brookes. He spurred his horse and rode straight at Gryff, who stood, legs braced wide, awaiting him in the clearing with a composure Maddie couldn’t fathom.
The man swung the club in a wide arc, leaning sideways in the saddle to increase his range, but Gryff sidestepped the charging horse at the very last minute. He ducked and launched himself at the rider, somehow managing to pull him from the saddle, and the two of them fell to the ground in a jumbled blur of limbs.
A crashing sound made Maddie swing around. A second rider had appeared at the far end of the leafy track; he was approaching fast, his attention fixed on Gryff and his assailant.
The horses were both rearing and snorting in alarm. Maddie raced forward, caught Galahad’s reins, and pulled herself up into the saddle. She wheeled him around and set him charging down the lane, directly toward the second man.
He pulled his horse to a skidding halt when he saw her and Maddie’s heart jolted in terror as he tugged a pistol from his belt. She ducked instinctively, then realized he wasn’t aiming at her; his arm was pointed at Gryff, now standing over the inert body of the first man.
“No!” Maddie kicked her feet out of the stirrups and leaned over, making a grab for the weapon. Galahad’s shoulder bumped the other horse’s withers as she shoved the pistol skyward. The two horses wheeled around in confusion and Maddie fought to keep her seat.
The man’s rancid
breath bathed her face as they grappled for control.
“Let go, ye bitch!”
The pistol’s stock banged painfully against her collarbone as the man threw his full weight against her. Before Maddie could even scream, she was tumbling backward from the saddle, her iron grip on the pistol pulling the man down along with her.
They crashed to the ground. His smothering weight crushed her and she kicked with her legs in instinctive panic, hampered by her skirts. Sheer terror kept her fingers clenched tightly on the gun. The barrel glinted between them and then she heard a deafening explosion and a flash filled her vision.
A searing pain lanced through her shoulder.
The man’s weight disappeared. Gryff’s fierce face replaced it, haloed by a patch of blue sky, as he caught the man by the back of the coat and threw him sideways onto the grass. He lifted his arm, another shot rang out, and the man fell backward, flopping limply beside Maddie like a rag doll.
The peppery scent of spent gunpowder stung her nose, even as her brain tried to make sense of what had just happened.
Her arm was agony.
Gryff lowered the smoking pistol and glanced down at her, and for a moment he seemed like a stranger. His expression was fierce and cold, utterly terrifying. His chest rose and fell in labored exertion—he must have sprinted along the lane to reach them.
Maddie’s own breath was coming in rapid, shallow pants, and the burning sensation in her arm had intensified to an almost unbearable level—it was as if she’d been struck by lightning again. She brought her shaking right hand to her forehead and tried to sit up, but a wave of pain and nausea assailed her and she fell back into the grass with a gasp.
“Don’t move.” Gryff dropped to his knees beside her, frown lines creasing his forehead. “You’ve been shot. Let me look.”
He began unbuttoning the fastenings at the front of her jacket, but his fingers were too large for the dainty buttons. With a muffled curse he grabbed the lapels and pulled the sides apart, sending buttons flying. She gave a weak cry of protest.
“You can buy another,” he growled. He lifted her slightly, caught her left cuff, and tugged it down over her hand. “Pull your arm out of the sleeve.”
Maddie groaned in pain. The sleeve was fitted and narrow, but she managed to do as he ordered. Her upper arm felt like it was on fire.
Gryff hastily unbuttoned the top three buttons of her cotton shirt, exposing her chemise and the top of her stays below, and pushed the fabric aside, over her shoulder. Maddie struggled, not wanting him to see the scarring that already marred her skin, but he sent her an impatient glare, misinterpreting the reason for her resistance.
“Stop being missish. We have to see if there’s a bullet in you.”
Maddie subsided, panting, and glanced down to see the extent of the damage. Thankfully, the dappled light from the trees and the bright blood streaking her skin disguised the worst of her scars. Her blood pounded in her ears.
Gryff’s taut expression eased as he let out a harsh exhale. “It’s not too bad. It’s gouged a furrow, but it’s not a through-and-through. It’s bleeding quite a bit, though.”
He reached into his jacket and withdrew a handkerchief, which he twisted into a band and placed over the wound, grimacing in sympathy as Maddie flinched and hissed in a breath. He tied it off neatly.
Maddie tugged her bloodstained shirt back over her shoulder as he stood.
“Can you stand? We need to get that cleaned and dressed as soon as possible.”
She sat up slowly, her head spinning, and glanced over at the man on the ground. There was no sign of movement. “You killed him,” she croaked.
Gryff squatted back down next to her so his eyes were level with hers. “Yes, I killed him. And I’d do it again.” He shook his head, and a tortured expression flashed over his features. “God, six inches to the left and he’d have shot you in the throat.”
She sucked in a breath that was almost a sob. “You saved my life.”
“Christ.” He slid his hand around the nape of her neck and drew her forward until her nose was crushed against his chest in an awkward sort of hug. “You saved mine.”
A shudder passed through his body and into hers. Maddie inhaled a steadying lungful of his scent, burrowing into the comfort of his shoulder. They stayed like that for the space of ten heartbeats, until he gently disengaged himself and stood.
Maddie glanced away, her awkwardness returning with the distance. “Where’s Sir Galahad?”
“Over there by Paladin. I’ll get him.”
Maddie rose slowly to her feet, but a wave of nausea threatened as she straightened. Black spots swirled in her vision. She groaned and reached blindly for Gryff, and with a muttered curse he turned back and caught her against him, then swept her up into his arms.
“You’re in no state to ride.” He tightened his arms around her and hitched her closer to his chest. “We’ll have to ride double.”
Maddie nodded. Her pulse seemed to be centered in the throbbing wound on her arm, and the world was swirling alarmingly.
Gryff tied Galahad’s reins to Paladin’s saddle, mounted, then pulled her gently up in front of him, sideways in his lap. She wrapped her arms around his waist. The ground seemed much farther away than on Sir Galahad.
The first attacker lay sprawled on his back by the well, and Maddie tried to see if his chest still rose and fell, but she couldn’t discern any signs of life. Had Gryff killed him too? The clearing blurred green and brown as Paladin wheeled around and she closed her eyes, nauseous and exhausted.
“Stay with me, cariad,” Gryff murmured.
For the first time the word sounded like an endearment and not a mockery. Was that worry in his voice? Maddie felt shivery-cold and yet sweaty at her hairline. Her arm burned like it had been touched by a red-hot poker.
“I can’t take you back to Newstead Park like this,” Gryff muttered against her hair. “Your father would have me drawn and quartered. We’ll go to Trellech Court.”
Chapter 21
The ride to Gryff’s ancestral home passed in a muddled blur of pain. Maddie was aware of his arms around her, of her head lolling against his shoulder, then tucked beneath his chin as he shielded her from the worst of the horse’s jarring gait. She clung to him, her hands fisted in his coat, drinking in his comforting scent: vetiver-scented linen and man.
Despite her injury, a sense of anticipation dawned. She’d only ever seen Trellech from a distance. She and Harriet used to dare each other to ride close enough to spy on its imposing turrets; she’d always longed for a closer look.
They crested the final hill, and she sucked in an awed breath at the sight that spread out before them. Trellech Court was a genuine castle, complete with crenellated ramparts and a profusion of mismatched towers—the kind that fairy tales were made of.
“Is that a drawbridge?”
“It is. There’s a portcullis too. But no water in the moat. It was drained years ago, much to my brothers’ disgust. Carys keeps some of the menagerie animals down there now, like at the Tower of London.”
With immaculate timing, the shrill cry of a peacock echoed across the valley, and Gryff winced. “Bloody Geoffrey,” he muttered. “I hate that bird.”
They rode closer, skirting the castle walls, and entered the outer keep beneath an enormous stone arch. The main house came into view, and Maddie couldn’t hide her gasp of surprise.
The imposing outer ramparts were just one part of the overall structure; the rest was an astonishing cluster of architectural styles that seemed cobbled together as if by some mad, drunken architect. A crumbling medieval tower butted up against an Elizabethan gable—a half-timbered, red-brick section that didn’t have a straight line on it anywhere. Another wing, sprouting from the other side, was pure Palladian, all elegant cornices, huge windows, and pillars.
Maddie blinked. Perhaps she was hallucinating from loss of blood? But when she opened her eyes the amazing place was still there.
&nb
sp; “Now you know Trellech’s secret,” Gryff said drily. “Breathtaking isn’t it?”
The overall effect was a confusing blend of charming and chaotic, almost too ridiculous to be believed. Tristan—the architectural purist—would have an apoplexy if he ever saw this ramshackle conglomeration. The disorder would hurt his soul.
But Maddie found it so much more interesting than her own home. Newstead Park was, in architectural terms, relatively new, being only a few hundred years old. Her great-great-grandfather had demolished the previous buildings and erased almost all evidence of the past to build the elegant country house that now graced the site.
Here, however, the rich history had been preserved. Maddie could almost hear the stones whispering to her, begging to be investigated, like one of her architectural dig sites.
“What an amazing place!”
Gryff glanced down with a wry smile. “There’s no need to be polite. You can say it; it’s grotesque. I think every generation of Davies tacked on their own section, just to leave their mark.”
“It’s unique,” Maddie corrected firmly. “And wonderful.”
Her delight dimmed a little at the realization that the Davies family had obviously been wealthy enough to add to their keep in almost every century. Gryff could probably build his own new wing whenever he fancied.
In stark contrast, her family couldn’t even afford a new pigeon coop.
Gryff tilted his head at the towering walls. “The south wing’s all for show. A medieval fortress is all very well to impress people with, but it’s damn drafty to live in. Most of my ancestors wanted a little more comfort.”
They entered an imposing U-shaped stable block, and Maddie blushed in sudden embarrassment when a smartly dressed groom came out of the stalls and took Paladin’s reins. Gryff, however, acted as if riding in with a disheveled woman in his lap, like some barbaric spoils of war, was a perfectly natural thing to do. Perhaps, for a Davies, it was.
“Think you can stand?” he murmured.
Maddie licked her dry lips. “Yes, I think so. I feel less dizzy now.”