by Shana Galen
Silence.
The cousins stared at one another. Where were Lord Nicholas and Lord Blackthorne?
The door was flung open, and Maddie jumped, then jumped again when it promptly fell off one hinge and hung at an awkward angle. It was almost dark outside now, and the man standing in the doorway was in shadow.
"All of you out. Hands up or I'll shoot you dead."
Maddie rose quickly, to do as she'd been told, but Dover held her back and whispered, "Let me go first."
He crawled out, hands in the air.
"Where are the rest of you?" another male voice asked.
"There are only two ladies inside," Dover said. "They are no threat. Let them be."
"Get them out here now, or I'll go in and bring them out," the first man said.
Ashley and Maddie exchanged a look, and then Maddie climbed out, hands in the air. Ashley followed, but she didn't put her hands up. Instead, she stood, braced her hands on her hips, and gave the men her most condescending look.
"What is the meaning of this?" she said haughtily.
Maddie looked at her in shock. There were two men on horseback and one standing beside his mount. He was at least fifteen stone, probably heavier, and his blunderbuss looked like an extension of his beefy arm. The other two men were armed likewise. All three looked angry enough to shoot.
But Ashley didn't look the least bit afraid. She grabbed Maddie's upraised arms and pulled them down. The three men were staring at them, so Ashley spoke again.
"Sir. You," she said, pointing at the large man. "I asked what you think you're about. Chasing innocent women and shooting at unarmed travelers."
The man's eyes widened in shock, and he opened his mouth, then looked to his friends for assistance.
"Sir, I am speaking to you," Ashley demanded.
"So sorry, miss," the beefy man sputtered. "And miss." He nodded to Maddie, and she blinked at the newly contrite look on his face. Why, the big man actually looked sorry.
Of course, Ashley usually had that effect on men.
"That's Lady Madeleine, not miss," Ashley corrected him. "You are in the presence of an earl's daughter, so behave accordingly."
Ashley would have said more, but Maddie reached over and pinched her. Next, Ashley would be telling everyone they were eloping. As it stood, these men would be able to help her father and his men immensely when he passed this way looking for her. Not only did they have her physical description, but they knew she was an earl's daughter as well.
Her father was definitely going to catch them. And then he'd kill Mr. Dover and probably Blackthorne as well—though she shouldn't feel quite so anguished about that—and then her father would drag her home and she'd never be allowed to leave the house again and ...
Oh, why had she ever decided eloping was a good idea?
"I'm sorry, my lady," the beefy man said, "but yourn coachman dishonored me daughter. I'm not leaving until he returns and makes an 'onest woman of her." He looked back at his friends, who shifted their weapons menacingly.
Maddie nodded regally. At least she hoped it looked regal. Her hair was loose and a lock of it fell in her eyes when she moved her head. But she had to remain calm if she was going to save everyone.
"I was informed of my— er, coachman's mishap once we were en route. But I'm told this is simply a misunderstanding. We might have been able to resolve the dispute had you not begun shooting."
"An 'undred apologies, my lady," the big man said. "But it weren't no misunderstanding. Might we speak with your coachman now?"
"Certainly."
"Good. Where is 'e?"
Maddie had been afraid he was going to ask her that. She'd seen no sign of Lord Nicholas or Lord Blackthorne since she'd stepped outside. Slowly, she turned to look at the coach. The box was empty, but she couldn't see on top of the roof. Surely both brothers couldn't have hidden up there without being spotted.
But if they weren't on top of the carriage, they had to be—
The howl that came from underneath the carriage confirmed her theory and sent her stumbling back in fear. In a blur, Blackthorne rushed at the men. At least she'd thought he was rushing for them. Instead, he grabbed her, pulled her arms behind her back and dragged her toward the panting horses.
"Don't move," he shouted to the village men, who were staring at her, and to Dover, who was coming after them. Dover ignored the order.
Maddie didn't know whether to beg her fiance to rescue her or encourage him to escape now, before Blackthorne did something worse. Poor Mr. Dover. What had she gotten him into?
"Don't make me hurt her, Dover," Blackthorne growled as Maddie's fiance came closer. Blackthorne twisted her arms, and she squeaked in protest.
But Dover must have thought she was hurt because he slowed. Blackthorne called, "Another step, Professor, and I kill her."
* * * * *
Jack watched as the professor halted. Surprisingly, the man looked ready to attack. So Lady Madeleine's fiance had some passion in him after all.
By the look of him, the professor wasn't going to be put off for long, which meant Jack would have to act quickly.
He pulled Lady Madeleine farther back, into the shadows and behind a copse of trees. "Hurry up," he growled when she dragged her feet.
"I'm not going to help you kill me," she retorted.
Jack snorted and paused to survey their location. Satisfied that they couldn't be seen from the road, he said, "I'm not going to kill you. I don't even have a pistol."
"Mr. Dov—"
Jack slammed a hand over her mouth. The little chit was going to ruin everything. Holding his hand over her lips, he backed her up against a tree and peered into her eyes. "Bad idea, my lady."
She glared at him and mumbled something from under his fingers. He paused a moment, deciphering her muffled syllables.
"Actually, I do have a better idea."
Though at the moment he was having a hell of a time remembering it. He hadn't anticipated what it would be like to be so close to her. Her big blue eyes blinked up at him, and he noticed that her lashes were incredibly long and thick. She had that worried line between her eyebrows again, and he wanted to smooth it away.
But it was hard enough concentrating with his hand pressed innocently against her lips. His fingers grazed one soft, satiny cheek, and Jack knew he'd never touched skin so soft. He imagined her lips were equally soft. And warm. And if he moved his hand, and bent lower, he could ...
Jack cleared his throat. "I do have a plan."
And the plan did not involve seducing Lady Madeleine. He had to rescue five people. He didn't have time to fantasize about kissing the Earl of Castleigh's daughter and another man's fiancee.
"Lady Madeleine!" Dover called from beyond their cover of trees. Her eyes widened, and Jack swore.
"Listen," he told her in a low voice, "my brother is innocent."
"Mow, mo mou mow?"
"I know because the girl tried to corner me as well."
Her eyes widened. "Me mon't melieve mat." She gestured toward the men with the pistols.
"I know they won't believe it. No father wants to hear that his daughter isn't pure and innocent. And even if he does believe it, he'll kill us for insulting his daughter."
"Mo, mat—" She broke off and pulled at his hand.
Jack gave her a warning look. "No shouting."
She nodded, and he lifted his hand. But he didn't move back. He might not be touching her face, but he had her backside against the tree trunk, which meant the rest of her was pressed intimately against him.
She was petite and womanly, curved in all the right places. And he knew in his head that he shouldn't be enjoying feeling all those sweet curves press against him, but he couldn't get his body to agree. He was obviously a scoundrel, but as long as he had Lady Madeleine close, he didn't care.
"Now what are we going to do?" Madeleine's voice, low and tinged with impatience, pulled his thoughts once again to the situation at hand. "Where's Lord Nic
holas?"
"That's another problem." Jack lifted a lock of her hair and rubbed it between two fingers. Jesus, but it was like silk. Was there any part of this woman that didn't arouse him? He glanced into her eyes. "Nicholas hit his head. I left him unconscious."
"Oh, Lord." She looked past him, back toward the carriage. "Where is he now?"
"On the far side of the carriage. Hopefully, he'll wake when I put my plan into action."
"Plan?"
"Right. You and I walk out of here, then you scream and distract the innkeeper. I'll disarm the fat one—"
"Are you mad?" she hissed. "That will never work."
"You have a better idea?"
"I'm not allowing some asinine scheme like that when Mr. Dover and Ashley are in the middle of harm's way."
Jack frowned. What? Did the woman think he hadn't thought of her friends? "That's where you come in. You grab Miss Brittany and—"
"No. No, no, no."
She pushed him back, and Jack complied before he realized what he'd done. She started marching toward the carriage, but Jack grabbed her arm and hauled her back. "What the devil are you doing?"
She shook her arm out of his grasp and rounded on him. "I'm going to fix this."
He moved to block her path. She tried to go around him, but he checked her. "How?"
She glared at him, but he wasn't moving. Finally, she ground out, "By telling that man the truth."
"That his daughter is a trollop?"
"Yes."
"And you think I'm mad."
Her eyes grew dark with anger, and Jack actually considered stepping out of her way.
"Not only are you mad." She poked him in the chest, rising on tiptoe so her eyes were almost level with his. "You are the most reckless, most imprudent, most idiotic man I've ever met. Now, quit acting the fool, and get out of my way so I can take care of your mishap."
"Lady Madeleine!" Dover called again. "Are you all right? By my calculations, we are now one hour and three minutes behind schedule."
"Jiminy!" she muttered. "We have to keep moving." She turned toward the road. "Yes, I'm coming out!"
Jack scowled at her. Irritating, foolish woman. "So, you want to stroll out there and get yourself killed?"
He was washing his hands of this one. He was done saving people. Let the little chit have her way. And good riddance.
"Go right ahead." He made a show of stepping out of her way.
She raised her chin. "Good."
"Good."
With a nod, she marched past him.
"Just one more thing before you go, my lady."
And he reached out, took her in his arms, and kissed her.
Chapter Six
Maddie tried to pull away, to escape Lord Blackthorne's embrace.
Until his lips touched hers.
The man might be reckless, arrogant, and dashed in the head, but his lips were achingly addictive.
One touch, and she couldn't pull away. One touch, and she didn't want to pull away.
She had been kissed before. More than once, but not more than she could count on one hand. And before this moment, she could honestly say that she didn't care if she were ever kissed again. She'd found the activity boring at best and sloppy at worst.
Blackthorne was neither boring nor sloppy. In fact, he was slow, deliberate, and tantalizing. His lips were firm and cool, so gentle as they brushed against hers that she wasn't even sure at first that he was kissing her.
And then he kissed her again, and this time she felt his mouth move, felt the tingle of plea-sure zing through the sensitive skin of her lips. It almost tickled. She wanted to reach up and rub her lips, but she knew that would not remove the ache.
Only Blackthorne could do so. And he did.
He pushed her back against the tree, cupping her head in his hand so he had complete control. Then he pulled back slightly, and their eyes met.
Maddie's lips were still tingling, and she couldn't help darting her tongue out in an attempt to quell the strange sensation.
His black eyes grew darker yet, and he took her chin between two fingers.
"I'm going to enjoy kissing you," he murmured.
She swallowed and shook her head. "I don't think you should."
One dark eyebrow lifted. "Kiss you or enjoy it?"
"Either," she whispered. She was Lady Madeleine. She shouldn't be allowing this. But already her traitorous gaze had lowered to focus on his mouth. She wanted it on hers again. She wanted more.
"Then tell me to stop," he murmured while his finger trailed from her chin to her lips, parting them slightly.
"I will," she said, feeling his finger move as she spoke. But she didn't. His body was warm against hers. He felt like liquid steel—so hard and yet so flexible.
"I'm waiting," he whispered.
"So am I," she answered; Oh, Lord. She shouldn't have said that. Lady Madeleine wouldn't have said that.
She was going to go to hell for encouraging him. But she was in a hell of anticipation right now. She needed him to kiss her again.
With infinite slowness, he obliged. He lowered his head, his gaze holding hers until the last possible second, then he touched his lips to hers. She felt like a feather had brushed her skin, only no feather had ever made her skin zing before.
She moaned slightly as the tingle infiltrated her body—traveling from her lips to her neck, her shoulders, the tips of her fingers. She felt numb. Drugged. Intoxicated.
Seemingly of its own volition, her hand came up to touch his back. As he wore only a linen shirt, she could easily feel the cords and bands of his muscles. Wrapping both hands around his waist, she pulled him closer. She felt his mouth curve in a smile against hers.
"Do you want more, Maddie?" he whispered against her mouth.
She nodded.
He caught her bottom lip, and she felt his tongue trace her mouth slowly. The shock of that erotic sensation made her body come alive. She shook with the zing of pleasure, feeling it shoot through her—from her fingers back up her arms, straight to her back, where her spine tingled and the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood up.
"Tell me."
Maddie closed her eyes. She shouldn't allow this to go any further. She should walk away, walk back to Mr. Dover, who was waiting for her, worrying about her.
Or at least worrying about being behind schedule.
"Give me more," she whispered.
With consummate skill, he slanted his mouth over hers. Maddie felt her nipples grow erect and hard, felt her legs grow wobbily. Blackthorne deepened their kiss, taking it from playful and innocent to somewhere she'd never been. Somewhere dark and dangerous and exciting.
And then he opened her lips, and she gave in to the sweet surrender of his invasion. The way he moved, the way he explored her, and encouraged her to explore him in return, took her breath away.
Or it might have been that she was pressed so tightly against him that she wasn't sure where he ended and she began. And still she couldn't get close enough.
It wasn't until he broke away that she realized she hadn't been breathing. She was light-headed and dizzy, and she had to clutch him to keep from falling over. She closed her eyes, hoping the world would stop spinning.
When she opened them, he was still looking at her.
"You were right," he said.
She shivered at the husky timbre of his voice. It made her want to grasp his shirt and pull him back to her.
But she didn't.
"Right?" she asked, managing to keep her voice from wavering.
"We shouldn't have done that."
"I'm always right," she moaned, not in the least pleased by that fact at the moment. "I should start listening to myself."
"Lady Madeleine!" Mr. Dover called again. "These men are growing quite ... impatient!" His voice squeaked, and Maddie knew she had better get out there.
"I have to go," she said.
"Oh, no you don't." He put his hands on either side of her head, trappi
ng her. "I won't let you risk yourself."
Maddie scowled at his attempts to control her. She'd been right again. "Move out of my way. I don't need protection."
"The hell you don't."
She tried to hold her temper. "You're just like my father, always trying to stop me from helping."
"Maybe he stops you because he doesn't want to have to rescue you. Now stay here."
"You stay here." And she darted under his arm and sprinted back toward the road.
Blackthorne was close on her heels. She thought she heard him mutter, "You'd better be right this time," but then she saw poor Mr. Dover, and she slammed to a halt.
The large man from the village was holding Mr. Dover captive, the man's big beefy arm tight about his skinny neck.
"Mr. Dover!" Maddie's hand flew to her lips.
"We won't 'urt him, me lady. Just give us the coachman and we'll let you pass."
Maddie took a deep breath and moved forward. Cutting her gaze to the carriage, she saw Lord Nicholas hidden in the shadows. He was rubbing his head, looking groggy. She prayed he would stay put.
Blackthorne was a lost cause. He was so close on her heels that he stepped on her slipper.
When she was beside the carriage, she turned to glare at him, but he only rammed into her. "Stand back," she hissed.
"Lady Madeleine, I'm not your problem." He indicated the beefy man.
She turned back to the road. "Sir, I have what appears to be unfortunate news."
The beefy man's eyebrows came together, and Mr. Dover whimpered. Maddie opened her mouth again, then closed it abruptly. She simply couldn't tell this man his daughter was a loose woman. She glanced at Blackthorne, took a deep breath, and lied. "Our coachman has apparently run off and left us."
There was a sound of protest from underneath the conveyance, and Maddie kicked dirt back, hoping a mouthful of grime would shut Lord Nicholas up. Didn't he realize she was trying to save him?
She gave the beefy man and his companions a sad smile. In fact, she did feel sad for them. "We are as distraught as you. And I can only imagine how your daughter must feel," she said sympathetically. "Perhaps she will find another suitor?"
One of the men on horseback sniggered. " 'Ardly likely! She's got a face like an 'orse—"