Sweet Deception (Hidden Identity)

by Colleen French

  She exhaled with a shuddering breath and sat up, untangling her arms from his. "We have to go, Gavin, else it will be my head."

  He opened his mouth to speak, then thought better of it. He rose and offered her his hand to help her to her feet. "All right, sweet," he murmured. "I'll take you home." He picked up the picnic hamper and draped his arm casually over her shoulder. She rested her cheek on his arm, savoring the feel of his hard muscles beneath his linen shirt and the scent of his masculinity.

  The coachman appeared over the crest of the hill, and in a few minutes time their things were packed and Ellen and Gavin were headed back toward London.

  Gavin took the seat beside Ellen and she rested against him, made drowsy by the warm afternoon, the abundant food and drink, and the burden of her feelings. Comforted by the strength of his arm wrapped around her shoulders, she drifted off to sleep.

  Ellen awoke with a start sometime later. The coach was rocking violently to and fro as it pulled to an abrupt halt. Gavin leaped up and snatched a pistol out from under the seat cushion. He tucked it into the waistband at the back of his breeches, beneath his coat. Its twin he held drawn in his hand.

  Outside, Ellen could hear the coachman shouting in terror. "Don't kill me! God a' mercy, don't kill me!"

  "What is it?" Ellen tried to rub the confusion of sleep from her eyes.

  "Highwaymen, I think." Gavin's fingers tightened around the carved mahogany wood of his pistol. "No matter what, you stay inside. Do you understand me?"

  She nodded, frightened but not wanting to be a coward. "I've little cash; Richard says it's not safe to carry much." She fingered the small velvet bag she wore around her waist. "But you can give them what I have."

  Gavin shook his head. "Just stay inside. We keep handing over our possessions to these thieving bastards and there'll be no end to it!"

  Gavin's hand touched the knob of the coach door, but before he could push it open, it was yanked from his hand. He leaped out into the darkness, and Ellen heard a gunshot and saw a streak of light. A second and then a third shot followed.

  Ellen pressed her balled fist to her mouth in terrified indecision. She could feel her legs trembling beneath her petticoats. All she could think of was that dark night Hunt had chased her down. Was it Hunt? Was that who had stopped the carriage? Had he come for her after all this time?

  But then she thought of Gavin. He'd been so good to her these last weeks. He'd taught her so much about the world . . . perhaps even about love. Suddenly, she realized that her fear that he was hurt or dead was stronger than her fear of Hunt or whoever stood aside. With a scream of anger, Ellen jumped out the carriage door and onto the soft dirt of the highway.

  "Well look, pray tell, what we got here, Jeremy!"

  In the semidarkness of twilight, Ellen could see two men standing a few feet from the carriage, one aiming his unfired pistol at her. Gavin lay there unconscious, his discharged weapon clutched in his hand. The coachman was to her left, down on his knees, begging for mercy.

  "Looks like we got us a gen'leman an' his whore out on assignation, Billy." The man snickered. "What we gonna do with 'em? Strip 'em naked an' tie 'em to a tree like last pair, Billy Bulbo?"

  The blond with stringy hair chuckled. "You just cover me whilst I tie up the coachman and get the horses. Them bays'll pull a might price at the fair come Saturday." He slipped his unloaded pistol into his breeches and started for the horses.

  Ellen's eyes narrowed with fury as she took in the sight of the two men. These were no handsome, gallant highwaymen the girls at the theater talked of. These were common street thieves that smelled of a pigsty. "What have you done to him?" She fell to her knees, running her hands over Gavin's still body. She could see no blood save for a streak at his temple. He was still breathing. Ellen looked up, her hand finding the hard metal of the pistol tucked into the waistband of his breeches. "Well, what do you want?"

  The one called Jeremy took a step closer. He was wearing a gentleman's suit, but it was ill-fitted. Ill-gotten, gains no doubt. "Well, let's see." He crossed his arms over his chest. "We could start with them there fancified earbobs, couldn't we? Then we'll move on to the likes of you, missy."

  Ellen touched her emerald earrings possessively, worried more about them than her virtue at the moment. The earrings had been a gift from Gavin. When he sailed to America, she would have nothing left of him but his baubles. "I think not."

  Jeremy broke into a grin, tipping his cavalier's hat brim with the barrel of his pistol. "Ye hand 'em over, little lady, else I'll take 'em."

  Ellen eyed Billy, who was busy unharnessing the horses from the coach. Her gaze strayed back to Jeremy. As she spoke, she brushed her fingers down Gavin's back and slipped her hand under his coat, hoping the movement was lost in the material of her abundant petticoats. "They were a gift. You'll not have them. Take the horses and I'll let you go."

  "You hear that, Billy Bulbo? The laidy says she'll let us go." Jeremy slapped his thigh. "Ain't that the funniest thing you 'eard all day, Billy?"

  "Get the jewels and tie 'er up, Jeremy. We ain't got time to dawdle. Someone else'll be comin' along."

  Jeremy took a step closer to Ellen.

  Ellen's fingertips touched the hard, smooth wood of Gavin's pistol handle and tightened around it. "I warn you. Not a step closer." Her gaze was locked on the outlaw's face, but her mind was on the pistol.

  "Ye warn me, do ye?" Jeremy laughed again in his high-pitched nasal voice. "Hear that, Billy Bulbo? She's a-warnin' me!" He took another step closer. "And what you gonna do, little lady, if'n I do come closer?"

  With one smooth movement, she slipped the pistol out of Gavin's breeches and raised it level with Jeremy's stomach.

  "Sweet Jesus!" Jeremy took a step back.

  "You don't go now and I'll blow a hole through your middle, that's what I'll do." She steadied her trembling hands.

  "Hellfire!" Billy called, coming around leading the horses. "I thought you were holdin' 'er up, not the other way 'round, Jeremy!"

  Jeremy shook his head. "She . . . she got a pistol, Billy Bulbo. What do I do now?"

  The outlaw exhaled loudly. "For the cryin' tears of Mary, you take it from her, you dull-witted jackanape! You take it before her finger slips on the trigger and she blows your balls off!"

  Ellen rose up off her knees, both hands gripping the pistol. "You take another step, Jeremy, and I most certainly will remove your most intimate parts." She was surprised by the strength she heard in her own voice.

  Jeremy gulped. "Hear that, Billy?"

  Billy glanced over his shoulder at Ellen. "She's only got one shot, Jeremy. Most likely she'll miss 'em. Now take the blessed pistol, get the earrings off her if you want, and let's get the hell out of here." He cuffed the side of Jeremy's head for good measure.

  "Ouch!" Jeremy massaged his temple.

  "You've got the horses. Don't be greedy," Ellen warned. "It's true I've only got one shot, one of you will most certainly be dead, if not instantly, then of a rotting belly within a fortnight. I understand it's a painful way to die, a gunshot through the entrails. The worms and maggots set in before you're dead, you know."

  Jeremy swallowed hard and took another step back. By the light of the carriage lamps, Ellen could see he was making a cautious retreat.

  Then she heard Billy Bulbo swear and make a sudden move toward her. She jumped but not fast enough, and he hit her with his fist as he threw his body against hers. Without thinking, Ellen raised the gun and pulled the trigger, hitting Billy point-blank. His body jolted and fell backward under the impact of the musket ball and heavily loaded charge. The recoil of Gavin's pistol nearly knocked her over.

  Through the smoke she saw Jeremy drop his pistol and take off into the darkness, crossing himself as he ran.

  "Jeremy! Jeremy!" Billy called from the ground. "God's bowels, wait for me!"

  Billy started to crawl away, dragging one leg behind him. In the confusion, she had fired low and struck him in the thi
gh instead of the stomach. Billy was now headed straight for the pistol his partner had dropped in his escape.

  Ellen tossed away Gavin's discharged pistol and ran the few steps to reach Jeremy's weapon in the grass. Billy lifted his head to stare up at Ellen. "Don't kill me," he grunted. "Don't kill me, miss."

  Ellen looked up to where Jeremy had come to a halt behind a knotted oak tree a hundred feet from the road. "Let 'im go. We didn't really mean no 'arm. I swear we didn't!"

  Ellen thought she should probably wait for a constable, but how long would that be? All she wanted now was to be rid of the highwaymen and to see to Gavin's injury. She thought for a moment and then motioned with the pistol. "Jeremy, get back here and see to your friend. He's bleeding all over the grass. He'll need the attention of a surgeon, I fear."

  Though Ellen didn't have a good view of the thief, she could hear the trembling in his voice. "You . . . you ain't gonna shoot my nuts?"

  "I'll step back. You come and get him, and then you take yourself from this road. I'd suggest you find yourself another occupation." She paused. "One a little less hazardous to your manhood, perhaps." When Jeremy didn't come from behind the tree immediately, she brandished the pistol again. "Come, come, my patience wears thin."

  Finally, Jeremy came creeping from the shadows of the tree, his hands cupped between his legs. Ellen stepped back beside the carriage but held the pistol aimed in Jeremy's direction. After a few cautious steps, the man came running, his wig askew. He grabbed his moaning partner by the ankles and started pulling him through the grass. Ellen watched him until he disappeared from view, then she knelt to see to Gavin.

  She stroked his forehead. Already a purpling bruise was beginning to spread across his temple. "Gavin . . . Gavin?" She brushed her fingertips across his high cheekbone. "Wake up."

  Gavin groaned.

  "M . . . ma'am, could you see to untying me?"

  Ellen looked up to see the coachman crawling toward her, his feet and hands bound. She had forgotten him entirely. She quickly unbound his ropes and returned to Gavin's side. "Get me some water or something," she ordered the coachman. "Then see to the horses before they wander away."

  He brought her back a bottle of water and then went to do her bidding. Ellen dampened the corner of one of her petticoats, and as she bathed Gavin's blood-encrusted forehead, he began to move.

  "Ellen?"

  "I'm here." She bit down on her lower lip. "Are you all right?"

  "What the hell happened?" He touched his forehead with his hand as he slowly sat up. "Ouch, damn."

  "You were hit in the head."

  Slowly, he opened his eyes. "The highwaymen?"

  She nodded. By the dim light of the coach lamps, she could see that the color was beginning to return to his face. "So much for my defending milady. Did they take off with everything we had, including the horses?"

  She shook her head. "The horses got loose, but the coachman's seeing to them now." She peered into his face, wanting to be certain he really was all right.

  "What did they take, then? Just money and jewels?"

  She couldn't suppress a smile. "Nothing"

  He looked up at her, squinting, as if focusing would hurt his head. "Nothing?"

  "In fact, I think we gained an extra pistol."

  Taking a moment to get his bearings, Gavin stood with a little help from her. "What are you talking about? Highwaymen who leave items rather than taking them?"

  "Ah, you should have seen the lady, sir. Proud of her, you would have been," the coachman offered, approaching with both horses. "Sent them packing, she did. One with a hole clear through his leg."

  Gavin looked up at her. "You chased off the thieves? With what?"

  "Your pistol. The one you stuck in your breeches."

  He broke into a grin. "I'll be damned straight to hell." He reached out to her, his face suddenly a mask of concern. "You're hurt. They hurt you?"

  She tried to brush away his hand. "It's nothing, really." But she couldn't push him away. Instead, he took her in his arms to get a better look.

  "You're bleeding."

  She touched the place beside her eye that now stung. Her fingertips came away stained red. "I'm all right, really I am. We have to go, Gavin, else we won't get back in time."

  "I can't believe this happened. I feel like a fool. I got knocked out."

  "You were shot. You could have been killed."

  "It was a graze!"

  She brushed her fingers over his lips. "I'm just glad you're all right," she whispered, feeling a lump well up in her throat. Now that the incident had passed, she was frightened again. Frightened for her own safety and for Gavin's as well.

  On impulse, Ellen pressed her lips to his. At first it was only a kiss of thankfulness, but at the feel of his lips touching hers, the kiss blossomed. Suddenly, there was something desperate about the need she felt for him, about the sorrow of knowing he would soon be gone.

  "Come home with me tonight," Gavin whispered against her lips. He kissed the tip of her nose, her cheeks, the lobe of her ear.

  She shook her head. "No, I can't. Please." She pulled away and lifted her skirts to step into the coach on her own. "The horses are harnessed, Gavin. We have to go."

  The ride to London was quiet as Ellen and Gavin sat side by side, his arm draped over hers. They said little because there seemed little to say. Once they finally rode into London, Ellen tried to convince Gavin to let her off down the street from the apartments she shared with Richard, but he refused.

  "You said yourself you don't expect him for another hour," Gavin said, taking her by the arm to help her down from the coach. "Look, you said yourself there aren't any lights burning in the "window."

  "I know, but . . ." She stumbled as her feet touched the dirty street.

  Swearing softly beneath his breath, Gavin swept her into his arms and carried her in the front door. "Which way?"

  She pointed up the steps to the second floor and to the right, too drained to struggle. "Just inside the door, and then you must go."

  "I'll go. I'll go. I just want to see you inside safely."

  At the top of the steps, Gavin lowered her to her feet and took the key from her hand. He unlocked the door and pushed it in.

  "Ellen? Ellen, is that you?"

  Ellen looked up at Gavin in shock. "R . . . Richard?"

  Richard came out of the darkness, his face etched with concern. "Ellen, I . . . What the hell! Who are you?"

  A heartbeat passed as a tense moment of silence stretched between the three of them there on the landing. Then Gavin stepped forward and swept off his hat. "Gavin Merrick, your servant, sir . . ."

  Chapter Six

  Richard glanced at Ellen, at Gavin, and then back at Ellen again. "Christ's bones, what happened to you? Who is this man? Has he injured you?" He touched the swelling beneath her eye where the highwayman had struck her. "You're bleeding."

  She pushed his hand away gently. "I'm all right. Gavin is a friend. He just brought me home."

  Richard looked so dubious that for a moment Ellen could only stare at him, mute. So many thoughts were running through her mind. Should she lie about what happened tonight? Should she say she had been attacked here in the the City and that Gavin, a stranger, had rescued her? Or should she tell him the truth? Should she tell Richard, who had done so much for her, that she had been seeing Gavin behind his back? Could she tell Richard that she was afraid she was falling in love with this man?

  Ellen pushed past Richard. "I can explain everything. But please, let's take the conversation from the hallway, else everyone in the queen's drawing room will be repeating our words by midday tomorrow."

  Richard followed her into the apartment, leaving Gavin to trail behind. "What happened, Ellen? Are you certain you're not injured? You look as if you've been through Hades' gates."

  She swept a hand over her torn, dirty smock. "It looks worse than it is."

  He touched the sore spot beneath her eye again.

&nbs
p; "Really, Richard, it's naught."

  Gavin hung in the doorway, his feathered hat still in his hand, watching the transaction between Richard and Ellen. "I'll go," he said stiffly.

  Ellen shot him a thankful look. "I think that's best."

  Richard glanced at Gavin, as if suddenly remembering his manners. "I take it you saved my Ellen from some sort of danger . . ." He searched Gavin's face for some clue as to the relationship between him and Ellen. "Let me express my gratitude."

  Gavin looked to Ellen. "More the other way around, I think." There was a hint of a smile on his rugged face.

  Richard frowned. "I don't understand. How did you come upon her?" He turned back toward Ellen. "Where were you that you could have encountered such danger? You know I prefer you not to go out after dark without me. I thought you were here safe at home." He rubbed her hand in his. "I was sick with worry when I found you gone."

  Ellen looked from the man she loved to the man she was falling in love with. She knew she couldn't have both. In fact, she couldn't truly have either. At this point, all she wanted was to keep from hurting them.

  She lowered Richard's hand and walked to Gavin. "Go home and have a surgeon attend to the gunshot, else it will turn on you." She laid her hand on his shoulder, hoping the gesture wouldn't seem too intimate to Richard but wanted Gavin to understand how she felt at this moment. "I'll explain to Richard what happened. Good night."

  Gavin glanced up at the tall, slender dark-haired man. "You certain you'll be all right?" he asked Ellen, his voice tight.

  She could tell by the tone of his voice that he meant, Would Richard harm her? He was obviously resentful of him. He was jealous that it was Richard she would spend the night with and not him.

  "I'll be fine," she whispered insistently. "Richard would never strike me. Now go."

  With a last challenging glance at his opponent, Gavin nodded his head in a modified bow and slipped out the door. Ellen closed it behind him and leaned back, focusing on the bleached floorboards.

  "Where have you been, Ellen? I was afraid something had happened to you. I was afraid Hunt—"