“They’re gone, but you could be, too. I might’ve hurt you.”
“You didn’t. You wouldn’t,” she said.
“I didna see you. I might have thought you were one of them. I might’ve slit your throat.” His words were brutal, hard, and anguished, and his eyes shone like gold in the almost nonexistent light.
“No. You would never think that.”
“I would. I did.”
“You didn’t hurt me, Colin. You didn’t even come close.”
He shook his head. “What if I had?”
“But you didn’t!”
He closed his eyes and groaned. “What was I thinking, insisting I come with you?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m a damned idiot,” he said. “A selfish, foolish man.” He turned to her. “I wasna thinking of your safety.”
“Of course you were.”
“Nay. I only kent I wanted to be with you. That I like being near you. That I wished to take you away from Pinfield. But I didna bother to think about how I might be as dangerous to you as he is.”
She ground her teeth. “Never compare yourself to him. You’re nothing like him.”
“I’m dangerous, Emilia.”
“I know that. But not to me!”
“I might’ve hurt you.”
“Stop saying that.”
“I might’ve killed you just now.”
“No,” she said stubbornly. She’d been cautious of the blade, but only because she hadn’t wanted to be accidentally cut when he’d been slicing it through the air. She’d never once thought that he’d deliberately hurt her. She still didn’t.
“I’m going to send for one of the other Knights to take over,” he muttered.
Panic nearly choked her. “No! Please don’t. I don’t want anyone else.”
He narrowed his eyes at her.
“I only want you. Please.” Compelled by some force she didn’t understand, she stepped up to him, wrapped her arms around him, and buried her head in his chest, squeezing tight. “I don’t think I’d survive this with anyone else. Please don’t leave me.”
“Why?” His voice had dropped to a murmur, and his arms came up and around her, resting just above the top line of her wounds.
“Because, you’re…you. You make me feel safe. You’re the only one who can keep me safe.” Panic pulsed desperately in her throat. The thought of him leaving her made her dizzy with the need to convince him to stay.
“Impossible.”
“It’s true. Please, don’t send for another Knight.”
“Emilia,” he whispered. “You dinna understand. There’s something…” She felt him shaking his head.
“I know,” she said. “I do understand. Do you think I don’t see the darkness in you? I have always seen it. It lurks there, behind almost everything you do. Whatever it is tortures you. And whatever it is caused that nightmare, I’m certain of it.”
He sucked in a breath and was quiet for a long moment. She hugged him tighter, pressing her cheek against the hardness of his pectoral muscles.
“How can you…How could you have seen all that?” His voice was soft with wonder.
She closed her eyes. “I’ve watched you. From the very first time you came to the house to guard my father.”
“Why?”
Her breath caught in her throat—because that was the question, wasn’t it? Why had she found him so compelling, even from the very first time she’d seen him?
“I could say I don’t know, and that’s partly true.” She pulled back a little and looked into his face, and realized she didn’t want to lie to this man, ever. “But to me, you encompassed all the good things a man should be.”
He reached up and cupped her chin, then rubbed his thumb over her lower lip. Emilia tried to contain her shiver.
“And what are those, lass?”
“You were handsome.” She pressed on, fighting embarrassment at that admission. “Intelligent in the way you handled my father. Loyal to your brother Knights. Strong and capable that night in Vauxhall when your comrade was attacked. But I always saw the darkness lurking, especially that day we crossed paths on the street in London.” She gazed into his eyes. “Were you fighting it that day?”
“Aye,” he said gruffly. He dropped his hand and pulled her to him again. She went into his arms willingly, loving the heat and comfort his body gave hers.
“What am I going to do with you, Emilia?” His groan was laden with desperation and fear, and laced with something she could only identify as desire.
“Stay with me,” she said.
He gave a huff of laughter. “That’s easier said than done.”
“I feel safe with you, Colin. Safer than I ever have with anyone else. Please. Stay. You are the only person who can help me—there is no one else I’d feel safe with.”
“Even after tonight?”
“Especially after tonight. The fact that you didn’t make a move to hurt me even in the deepest moments of your nightmare proved that you’ll never hurt me.”
“You’ve a strange way of looking at things.”
“The correct way of looking at things.”
“We’ll be needing to take precautions.”
She sighed. “If you insist.”
He hesitated. Closed his eyes and opened them, looking at her with a deep tenderness. Then, softly, “Aye. I’ll stay.”
Chapter 8
The next day brought with it a cold spring rain. Colin and Emilia laid an oiled cloth over their luggage and huddled under the phaeton’s hood. They traveled a good distance during the first half of the day, their soaking-wet and miserable-looking horses plodding along the muddied and increasingly pitted roads.
Colin and Emilia kept warm and dry, despite an errant wind that would sometimes send a spray of rain into their faces. Though it was impossible for her to draw, as they were bundled together under Colin’s warm woolen plaids, she’d wondered more than once if there could ever be a more pleasant journey. Being out in the crisp air was so much better than being inside a stuffy enclosed carriage; she contemplated why more people of her class didn’t travel this way.
A sea of green surrounded them at every turn, everything growing abundantly in this season. Pastures, forests, gardens. Wildflowers just budding with promise of a riot of color to come. She couldn’t wait for the weather to clear so she could draw it all.
At noon, Emilia took out a package of bread, cheese, and dried meat she’d brought from the inn, and she and Colin shared bites of it as they continued on the road. The innkeeper’s wife had given her a skin of water, which they passed back and forth.
Intimacy again. In an entirely new way, but a way Emilia enjoyed. She was not sitting stick straight knowing eyes were on her to see if she retrieved the proper fork and didn’t make a faux pas. At home, when she ate with her father, he was a stickler for perfect propriety at the table. This was altogether different. Relaxed and enjoyable, with a constant exchange of touches that comforted her in a way she couldn’t explain.
“Do you think it’ll stop?”
“The rain?” Colin’s lips twisted. “Nay. Not today, at least. I’d wager it’ll get worse before it gets better.”
“I don’t mind. I think I like it. I feel quite warm under the protection of the hood.”
“I’m glad,” he said. “How’s your back?”
She realized she’d begun to lean against the padded bench. “It’s perfectly fine,” she said. “I cannot feel a thing.”
“Good.”
She handed him a bit of cheese, and he popped it into his mouth. “So, tell me about where you grew up in Scotland. Is it very close to where we’ll be in Inverness?”
“Nay. My family lives to the southwest, in Inverary, on the banks of Loch Fyne.”
“And what does your father do on the banks of Loch Fyne?”
“He was a politician.”
“He is no longer with us?” she asked softly.
“Nay. He died of the consumption o
ver ten years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It was long ago, and he was gone so often while I was a lad I hardly knew him.”
“Where was he?”
“Sitting in Parliament. He was the MP for the Ayr Burghs for several years. My da spent most of his time in London and rarely took the rest of us along with him.”
“So you remained in Scotland with your mother and sisters.”
“Aye.”
“Why did you not follow in your father’s footsteps and become a politician?”
“I did follow in his footsteps, to a certain extent. When I was eighteen, he purchased my commission in the 92nd, as his father had for him when he turned eighteen.”
“Is that what you wanted at the time?”
He shrugged. “It was what was planned for me since birth. I accepted it and went into military service without complaint.”
“You were in the army for quite a while, then,” she murmured, calculating. “From the time you were eighteen until Waterloo. You must have fought in many battles.”
It was a long time before he answered. “Aye.”
And at the dark tone of his voice, something clicked within her. The battles…so many of them. So much violence and death. Would that not eventually damage the very soul of a man? She kept her voice light. “And you were with Major Campbell from the beginning?”
“Aye. He was a lieutenant when I was an ensign.”
“Why did you stay in the army for such a long time?” she asked softly. “Surely it is not an easy life.”
He gazed ahead of the horses, deftly directing them around a large puddle. “Aye, ’tisn’t. But I made a good soldier, and I was surrounded by men I admired. I never thought of selling my commission. Until…” He faltered for a second, then said in a grating voice, “The Battle of Quatre Bras. And Waterloo, shortly after.”
Emilia nodded, but remained quiet. This conversation was out of her depth—she had heard about the massive losses suffered by both sides on that field near the village of Waterloo, but she could not begin to imagine what it could possibly be like to be in the midst of such butchery.
She handed Colin the skin of water, and he took a deep swallow. They were silent for long minutes, Colin focused on negotiating the increasingly pitted road and Emilia gazing at the rain-drenched pasture that disappeared into the mist.
They finished their luncheon, and Emilia busied herself with packing the remains into a small satchel. Then she put her gloves back on and adjusted the plaid over them, resting her body against Colin’s before she realized what she was doing—or how comfortable she was doing it. How natural and easy it was, when a couple of days ago touching any man in such a fashion would have seemed utterly brazen.
He smiled down at her, his amber gaze soft and his eyes crinkling at the edges, and she yawned.
“Lean against me awhile, lass,” he suggested, his voice a low rumble.
Her bonnet, with its wide straw brim, prevented her from resting her head, so she removed it and set it at her side before laying her head on him.
Tucked against his hard body, ensconced in safety and warmth, she drowsed comfortably for the remainder of the afternoon.
—
It was dusk when they stopped. Despite the rain, they’d made good time and were now in Nottinghamshire, north of the area where Pinfield’s country house was located.
Colin hoped they were far enough from Emilia’s old home that no one would recognize her. There was no use in pressing on tonight. Rain was falling in buckets, and the roads were so bad he couldn’t negotiate them in the dark with only the help of lanterns, which might not remain lit in the downpour. Not to mention that the horses were done. He’d brought them as far north as they could manage in one day.
He helped Emilia from the carriage as the lads came to take the horses. “Keep your head down,” he murmured to her, “and dinna speak unless you must.”
She nodded, and he smiled at her, the urge to kiss her almost overpowering. “Let’s go, then.”
Again, there was only one room available, but it wasn’t ready for them—Colin hadn’t realized that March was such a busy time of year for travel, though it made sense, he supposed, as the London Season was just getting under way.
The innkeeper invited them inside and offered them hot tea beside the fire while their room was being prepared. There was nothing to do but agree, and he followed the man to a small walnut table beside a roaring fire in an enormous stone hearth. Fortunately, the space was otherwise empty, the hour being too early for dinner. Emilia removed her bonnet, and he couldn’t fault her for that. It would look even more odd if she kept it on. He took it from her and hung it on a nearby hook as she patted her damp hair, which had sprung out at endearing angles from the knot coiled above her nape.
They removed their gloves and reached toward the fire. The flames spread much-needed heat over Colin’s numb fingertips, and he curled and flexed them in relief.
“Here, now, I’ve brought ye some nice hot tea,” a feminine voice said from behind him.
He turned to the round woman bumbling toward them. She set a teapot and two cups, along with a small plate of cakes, on the table. “Just baked these this afternoon,” she told them, red-faced and grinning as she poured tea first into one cup then the other. “Thought ye might like a few with your tea.”
“Thank you.” Colin took his cup and cradled it in his hands, loving the feel of the warmth spreading through his palms.
“And here’s a pot o’ cream for ye.” She placed the small cup of cream on the table then took her empty tray and tucked it under her arm. “Might I fetch ye anything else?”
“Thank you. This’ll do,” he told her.
She glanced at Emilia as if waiting for an answer, then she frowned when one wasn’t forthcoming. “Why…is that…are you Lady Emilia Featherstone?”
Emilia’s eyes widened, and she glanced frantically to Colin, who had gone stiff from the tips of his fingers to his toes.
He spoke in his deepest Scottish brogue. “Lady Emilia Featherstone?” Before she could answer, he continued, “We dinna ken any Lady Emilia Featherstone, ma’am. This’ll be Mrs. Montgomery, my wife these past two years.” Emilia didn’t even look as old as twenty-one, her true age, so he hoped the woman would believe that she’d been married two years.
The woman looked surprised. Emilia remained mute.
“My wife doesna speak much,” he explained. “She suffered from an…er…infection of the tongue when she was a lass.”
“Oh. Dearie me…I’m sorry,” the woman said. “It’s just…” She smiled kindly at Emilia. “You look just like a chit I knew who lived in a grand house near here—Pinfield Manor. Have ye heard of it?”
Emilia shook her head.
“Nay, we havna—” Colin began, but the woman interrupted him.
“I was a chambermaid—years ago, when I could manage all them stairs—that house had hundreds.” She laughed lightly and patted her expansive girth. “But then the lady of the manor passed on and the lord and his girl went off to London. I lost my position, so I came home here to Markham Moor, where I met Mr. Thomas—he’s the stable master here—and became Mrs. Thomas.”
“Aye, well—” Colin began.
“You do look exactly like Lord Pinfield’s daughter, ma’am. Exactly! Quite uncanny it is.”
“That’s verra interesting,” Colin murmured. “But my Mrs. Montgomery was born and raised in Inverness. She’s a MacDonald by birth, Scottish through and through.”
Emilia smiled and nodded.
“Well, isn’t that something,” Mrs. Thomas mused. “Quite uncanny, indeed.”
“The innkeeper said dinner is at seven?” Colin asked, trying to change the subject, and remind Mrs. Thomas that she probably had some other task to attend to.
“Oh, aye, sir. Seven on the button!”
“Is it possible for dinner to be brought to our room? It has been a long and wet day of travel for us.”
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“Oh, certainly. I’ll have someone bring you a tray, then.”
“Thank you,” Colin said.
“You’re very welcome, sir. Ma’am.”
Emilia nodded, and smiled when Mrs. Thomas lumbered away. As soon as they were alone again, she widened her eyes at Colin. He shook his head slightly, hoping she’d act as if nothing untoward had happened, and that she wouldn’t speak.
He poured a bit of cream into her tea. “Have some tea, love,” he said. “It’ll warm you.”
She nodded, pink suffusing her cheeks, then cradled the tea in her hands as he had and took a sip. He did the same from his cup. They ate the cakes, which were delicious, and drank their tea in silence, until the innkeeper came to tell them their room was ready.
With a sigh of relief, Colin jumped up, his gloves in hand, and retrieved Emilia’s bonnet and gloves. He thanked the innkeeper, who gave them the key and directed them to their room on the second floor. Colin guided Emilia upstairs, his hand to her back above her healing wounds, his heart beating far harder than it should.
They reached the room, and he unlocked the door. They went inside, finding a spacious room with a large bed. The space was cold but clean, and their luggage had already been brought up and placed along the wall beneath the window.
He closed the door behind them and released a long breath. Emilia sighed at the same time. “I remember her. Her name is Nora, and she was a chambermaid. She was much thinner then, but—”
“You did well, lass.” She had behaved perfectly, but he was still uneasy. Nora Thomas wasn’t one to keep her mouth shut if someone came by asking questions. But there was nothing to be done about it. If they left now, they’d raise more suspicion. They’d just have to keep up the pretense that Emilia was a young Scottish wife—not Lady Emilia Featherstone of Pinfield Manor.
She frowned. “I felt…ridiculous.”
“You were perfect.”
She sighed again, looking down, and he tossed his gloves to the small table and cupped her cheeks in his hands. Her cheeks were soft and pink from her proximity to the fire downstairs. She blinked bonny gray-blue eyes at him, and he couldn’t stop himself this time. He bent down and kissed her.
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