by Jaide Fox
As if he'd read her thoughts, Nick leaned forward to take the cup from her. She sent him an amused glance and returned her attention to the tray.
"What brings you to the countryside at this time of year?” she asked politely when she'd served tea all around.
Darcy inhaled, as if to speak. Nick cut him off. “Business. But as we'd heard Bronte was here, we thought we would drop by to pay our respects."
"That is most kind!” Lady Millford spoke before Bronte could respond. “You won't be in the area long then? Such a pity. I'd planned a little gathering for Bronte tomorrow evening and most everyone is in town now."
"I'm sure I could come,” Darcy said promptly. “It is Nick who is here on business. I merely tagged along."
"Oh! How delightful! You're certain we can't prevail upon you to come, as well, Mr. Cain?"
Nick smiled with an effort. “I never like to disappoint a lady. Most certainly, I will come."
They took their leave shortly afterward, staying only the precise fifteen minutes.
It was a severe trial to Bronte nevertheless. “I can not believe you invited them!” she said once the butler had shown them out.
Lady Millford studied her tea guiltily. “It was the polite thing to do. Although I must say it will make us uneven for dinner. It's very difficult when everyone is gone to London for the season,” she said peevishly.
"It would not be uneven if you had not invited Nick and Darcy,” Bronte pointed out.
Lady Millford feigned a look of surprise. “But ... you were always such friends when you were children. I was certain it would be a special treat for you."
* * * *
"I'm not entirely certain of what just happened, but I do believe that was the most uncomfortable fifteen minutes of my entire life,” Darcy muttered once he'd joined Nick in the coach. “Who would've thought our skinny, freckled Bronte would grow up into such a beautiful woman?"
Nick grunted, which might have been construed as an agreement, but forbore comment.
"Stunning. Absolutely stunning."
"Obviously, she stunned you,” Nick said sardonically.
Darcy frowned, trying to recall anything about his behavior that might have elicited that comment, but realized he recalled very little about the visit beyond his reaction to Bronte. “You are not going to sit there and tell me you were not surprised."
"I'm not."
Darcy sent him a look. “And?"
"As you say, she is quite stunningly beautiful."
Darcy pondered over it a bit. “Try as I might, all I can recall about her as a child was that shock of red hair, huge eyes, big nose, big mouth. Even her bones looked too big for her."
"She was thin."
"She certainly is not thin now. I'll wager she's a cozy armful.” That and more. The emerald gown she'd worn had emphasized breasts that would fit comfortably, heavily, in a man's palms. Her waist, as she'd turned and the gown caught at it, was trim and curved to hips he could only fantasize about. More than that though, her face was softer now with maturity, the harsh, angular bones of youth gone, and the freckled skin had mellowed into a uniform color not unlike milk and honey. She looked delectable, and in fact, with the deep auburn of her hair, he was hard pressed not to think she'd taste of berries and cream. His mouth practically watered at the thought of tasting her skin.
He cleared his throat uncomfortably. From the look on Nick's face, Darcy gathered his thoughts were running along the same lines as his own.
"I shouldn't imagine you will discover whether she is or not,” Nick said in his customary terse manner.
Darcy frowned, pausing a moment in his stride of thought to look at his friend. “And I suppose you think you will?"
"Probably not."
Nonplussed, Darcy merely stared at him for several moments.
"I couldn't help but notice she didn't seem at all pleased to see us,” Nick said pensively.
"She didn't?” Darcy said doubtfully, recalling the truth of that. She had seemed cold, but he'd put that down to their unexpected visit. Now that he thought on it, however, it was remarkably strange of her, given how attached she'd been to them as a girl.
Nick eyed him speculatively for several moments. “You are not generally quite so dense, Darcy. No. She was not pleased."
Darcy frowned. “You think you were right? She blames us for Isaac's death?"
"Possibly. Whatever the reason, I'm fairly certain that she does not remember us fondly."
Darcy was annoyed. “Well, if that isn't the outside of enough! When you and I both nearly got our asses shot off trying to rescue the numbskull! My shoulder has never been quite the same since that ball I took.” He rubbed it absently, as if merely the memory caused an ache.
"We did not succeed, however,” Nick pointed out.
"And that's our fault?” Darcy demanded, outraged. “The young fool should have known better than to charge that hill. I tried to reason with him. You tried, but nothing would do for him but to be a hero."
Nick was silent for several moments. Finally, he sighed tiredly. “We were not entirely blameless, Darcy."
"I don't see how you figure that."
"He should not have gone off at all. He was his father's heir, but he was determined to join up the moment we did."
Darcy frowned. “You think?"
"I do. I also think he was determined to take that hill to show us he was a better man ... perhaps he did."
"It was a cock brained thing to do! And against orders, I might add. The retreat had already been sounded."
Nick turned to stare at the passing scenery. “I know you're right in a sense. Isaac was a man full grown, and made his own decisions. I also know we tried to save him from his folly, but the fact remains that he'd spent most of his youth trying to best the two of us, and it was that that led him to his death."
"We should explain it to Bronte."
Nick smiled faintly. “Do you think you could?” he asked with interest.
"You could explain it better."
"I think not,” Nick said coolly.
Darcy frowned. “Why not?"
"Because she is not only beautiful, she is intelligent. I see no point in trying to explain something that she must know already. She still blames us. She would regardless of what I, or you, might say."
Darcy digested that for a while. “You don't mean to make a push for her then?"
Nick's eyes narrowed on Darcy. “I did not say that. Only that it presents a challenge I hadn't expected."
Darcy grinned.
Chapter Five
The dinner party was more tedious, and frustrating, than either Darcy or Nick had anticipated. Other than themselves, the Vicar, his son, and his daughter were the only guests. Bronte was both vivacious and flirtatious ... with the vicar's son. She was exquisitely polite to both of them seemingly either oblivious to, or impervious to, Darcy's roguish charm. Nick merely observed.
He wasn't particularly displeased with what he observed, however.
Darcy was in a black mood when he climbed into the carriage with Nick and headed back to the inn where they had been staying. Contrary to what Nick had said, he had no intention of going near his stuffy older brother, the Marquis, or his sister-in-law, who'd already made it abundantly clear that she was entirely too willing to share her charms, so long as they kept it in the family. Having no desire to offend his brother, whom he held in affection even though he found him utterly boring, or defend his honor from his sister-in-law, he'd decided it would be best to steer well clear of his ancestral home.
Besides, his other brothers, if they were in residence, were always in need of money and he had no intention of funding their gambling habits any further. If they were so lacking in skill and/or luck, they needed to find another pastime.
"Royalty trounced,” Darcy muttered in disgust, “and by a whelp hardly out of leading strings."
Nick smiled thinly. “She has no interest in the boy. That was for our benefit."
&
nbsp; Darcy frowned. “I'm not such a nodcock I hadn't figured that out, but I'm not so sure it's the way you seem to think. In fact, I know it wasn't. I've seen coy. Coy means ‘I can be had, but you're going to have to work for it'. That wasn't coy. The way she looked at me was enough to emasculate a fellow. In fact, that cold look unnerved me so badly at one point I had to take a little trip out side just to make sure my cock hadn't withered ."
Nick sent him an amused glance. “And had it?"
"Don't get your hopes up. It's still bigger than yours,” he said with a grin.
"Only in your eyes, Darcy, but I've been meaning to mention the possibility that you might be in need of spectacles. You really should have your eyes checked."
"Ha, ha,” Darcy responded, not amused in the least.
"What I meant was, she has no interest in the boy. She was merely making a point of allowing us to know she had no interest in us."
Darcy frowned. “Well, that's that, then. I guess we'll be off to town again tomorrow?"
"Mmm,” Nick responded noncommittally.
Darcy studied him through narrowed eyes. “I see what it is. You think I'll decamp and leave the field to you,” he said suspiciously.
Nick shrugged, but Darcy could see the gleam of amusement in his eyes. “As you so eloquently put it, there is no playing field."
"Then why are you staying?"
Nick's brows rose. “Did I say that I was?"
"No. You just made that noise that was supposed to convince me you were agreeing with me."
"I am always agreeable."
"Yes, even when you have a dueling pistol leveled at a fellow,” Darcy said tartly.
"Precisely."
"Which is exactly why I know you've no more intention of leaving tomorrow than you have of giving up this whole scheme of yours."
"Scheme?” Nick said pensively. “I've never particularly cared for that word, particularly when associated with myself. In any case, there was never any ‘scheme'. I was merely curious."
"And now that you've had your curiosity appeased?"
"I'm not at all certain it has been appeased,” Nick said, arching a brow. “In fact, I'm certain it has not. It has only been whetted."
"So—you're not heading back for town tomorrow?” he asked, not really expecting a satisfactory answer. Nick could be a trial sometimes.
"Mmm,” Nick responded noncommittally.
"Damn it to hell and back again!” Darcy growled. “Do what you please then. I'm for town."
Nick shrugged. “I always do. Have a pleasant trip."
As it transpired, neither of them departed for town the following morning. Darcy lifted a few too many tankards and slept well past noon, waking to the unwelcome discovery of the barmaid in his bed. He stared at her in bemusement for several moments, and then looked around the room, wondering if he'd been too drunk to find his way to his own room. Once he'd assured himself that he was indeed in the correct room, there was still the little matter of the barmaid, dead to the world, in his bed, and he had a very bad feeling that she might be related to the owner of the inn for, in the light of day, she bore an uncanny resemblance to the man.
He wondered how he could have failed to have noticed that particular fact before, but then there were a number of inconsistencies to his memory beyond that. For one, she seemed a bit older than he recalled, a little more voluptuous than he found attractive, a little less clean than suited his tastes, and she seemed to be missing a number of teeth if the dark cavern from which enormous snores were emerging was anything to go by, which he rightly assumed it was since it appeared far too large to be any other cavern.
For another, he couldn't recall to save his life how he'd gotten to bed, how he'd undressed, or what he'd done afterward, but she was as naked as he was and he was more than a little perturbed about that.
After a moment, it occurred to him that he might need to consider a rapid exit if it transpired that the female in his bed actually was related to the owner of the inn. With great care, he extricated himself from the bed and tiptoed to the window to have a look down.
There was a roof only a few feet below the window, he saw with some relief, and since his room faced the stables, he decided he could be out and gone within a matter of minutes, minus his belongings, of course, and the saddle and tack for his horse, but he was perfectly willing to make the sacrifice if the alternative was to have his ass shot off by an irate father.
The window might present a problem. He wasn't as convinced as he would've liked that he could squeeze his bulk through it at all, much less with any speed. Finally, he decided it was worth a try and tiptoed back across the room to gather his clothes. If there was any help for it, he'd just as soon take those with him. It was freezing cold outside. He doubted there would be many about to witness a bare rider, but he'd as soon not freeze his balls off, or be forced to the necessity of visiting his ancestral home for something to prevent a nasty chill. His mother was in residence and he rather thought she might ask unpleasant questions.
He'd managed to dress, more or less, and had grasped one boot when the voice he was hoping not to hear emerged from the bed. “You're off then?"
He flashed her a grin that wasn't quite as devil-may-care as his usual jaunty smile. “Afraid so."
She sent him what he had to suppose was intended to be a seductive smile. It failed, primarily because it displayed a grand total of three teeth, two on the top and one on the bottom. “You told me last night ye'd make it up ter me this morning."
"Did I?” he asked, stalling for time as he gritted his teeth and finally managed to force one of his boots onto his feet. “That was infamous of me. Was I remiss last eve?"
She frowned, obviously confused. “Missed altogether, ye did. Ye told me ye was too drunk ter find yer cock."
Relief flooded him. “So—we didn't...?"
Her frown deepened to a scowl. “It's still a shilling fer me time."
"That is good news,” he said jovially, searching around for his purse. Finding that he'd shoved it into his jacket, he extricated it, tossing her two with a wink and a grin.
She scooped the coins up. “We could still ‘ave us a little fuck. I've nae ter be downstairs for a bit yet."
He tried to look interested and disappointed at the same time. “Thanks, but I've got to be off, I'm afraid."
Shrugging, she got up, dressed and departed.
Darcy examined the bed to make certain there was nothing moving around in it and plopped down on the edge when he found it looked relatively clean, dropping his throbbing head into his hands. In a general way, he wasn't inclined to imbibe quite so freely, and he couldn't for the life of him figure out why he'd done so the night before. After some time, it occurred to him that he'd been soothing his wounded ego, which brought him around to wondering if Nick had risen yet.
A hair of the dog, he decided, was just what he needed to get rid of the pounding headache, and possibly a sizable portion of beef, and whatever else they might have on hand that was edible.
Since there was no longer any urgency about leaving, he decided to take the time to make himself a bit more presentable. Moving to the door, he bellowed for hot water with which to shave. It proved to be an unwise decision since it set his head to throbbing even harder and he decided to lie down and wait for the massive pain to ease off a bit.
When he woke once more, he discovered the water had been delivered, but now was only lukewarm. Shrugging, he shaved anyway, wondering where the hell his man had gotten off to since he'd had plenty of time to make the trip from London by now.
Feeling marginally better, he went downstairs, ordered food and, while he was waiting, decided to ask the innkeeper about Nick since he was no where in sight.
"The gen'lman has departed."
Darcy instantly came to attention. “Departed!” he demanded indignantly. “When? To where?"
"As to where, I couldn't say,” the innkeeper responded. “Not bein’ privy to his lordship's business, but
he left shortly after noon."
Darcy ground his teeth, drumming his fingers on the bar while he considered why Nick might have left since he'd given every indication he intended to stay a while. It finally occurred to him that either Bronte had given him reason to believe his efforts would be totally wasted, or Bronte had departed, as well.
"Did he go anywhere before he left? Say, earlier this morning?"
"Well now, I don't make an ‘abit of snoopin’ on me guests, an’ particularly if they ‘appen ter be a lord."
"He ain't a lord, damn it! No more than I am. Did he, or didn't he?"
"I seem ter recall, now that yer mention it, that ‘e was gone a bit, came back breathin’ fire, packed ‘is bags and then left."
Darcy frowned. “Did he say anything?"
"Well, now, in case yer ‘adn't noticed the gen'lman weren't a real talkative sort."
"He ain't the sort to breath fire neither,” Darcy retorted. “I figure if he was that furious he might have said something."
The innkeeper scratched his crotch thoughtfully. “Now ye mention it, I guess ‘e weren't exactly breathin’ fire. More like ... steamin', cuttin’ everybody with that sharp tongue of ‘is and them cold eyes ‘cause they weren't movin’ fast enough to suit ‘im."
Darcy hit the bar with his balled fist. “That tears it! I've got half a mind to call him out, damn it to hell!” He stewed over it for several moments and finally dug in his pocket for some coins. “I'll be leaving, too."
"Ye'll not be wantin’ that dinner ye ordered then?"
"Don't be a nodcock, man! I sure as hell ain't leaving without getting my dinner first!"
Chapter Six
Nick was in the process of putting the finishing touches on his cravat when the butler showed Darcy into his room. “Was I expecting you?” he inquired as Darcy dropped into a chair and glared at him.
"Weren't you?” Darcy growled.
Nick spared a glance at him. “Poor delivery. Growling the words doesn't have quite the ring to it that words spoken with soft menace would have.” He looked Darcy over skeptically and returned his attention to his cravat. “Did you have trouble along the road? I'd expected you to be back before me. You did say that you'd be leaving in the morning, didn't you?"