by Amy Sandas
Her sister’s guests certainly did not need her presence to speculate on the circumstances surrounding Eliza’s scandal. They were not interested in the truth of the matter, that it had been the most difficult decision of her life and that she’d thought about the repercussions of it every day since. Or that she could barely go an hour without thinking about the marquess and worrying about him.
She had heard when he left London several weeks ago. Though she knew it was all in her mind, she felt as though the city had become hollow without his presence. She spent hours wondering where he had gone. She pictured him roaming the rough-hewn countryside of Boarhill, or she’d see him in the stately surroundings of Breckmore Palace. Perhaps he was hosting a country party of his own.
She nearly managed a smile as she imagined him having a dinner party in one of the tower attics of the palace. The smile could not fully form before it was pulled down by the sadness that filled her as she wished she could be wherever he was. She longed to walk at his side down twisting country lanes, enjoy picnics together in the sunshine and share laughter and whispers in the privacy of a darkened bedroom.
Gah! She needed to stop with such torturous thoughts. They only succeeded in deepening the ever-present ache in her heart. Closing her eyes, Eliza took a long breath and then expelled it from her lungs in a heavy sigh.
“What cause for such sadness?”
A bright thrill flashed along Eliza’s nerves. She spun around on the bench and peered behind her. The darkness was too thick to penetrate with her gaze and her breath froze with a fear she had imagined the low rumbling voice.
Had she gone a little mad in her desperation to see the marquess again?
A soft rustle of clothing and the sound of steps in the plush grass triggered a rush of tingling sensation throughout her body. Her heart clogged her throat as a cloaked figure emerged from the surrounding shadows.
He did not approach her but kept to the edge of a revealing shaft of moonlight.
Eliza yearned to jump to her feet and rush into his arms, but she kept her rear planted firmly to the bench, worried his reception may not be what she desired.
Why is he here? Has he come in search of me? Does he hate me for my betrayal?
She bit her lip and allowed her hungry gaze to soak up the details of his appearance.
His dark breeches and the black cloak that fell from his broad shoulders obscured much of his form and the hood was pulled forward over his brow. He kept his chin lowered, but she knew that even if she could see his face, it would be covered by the black half-mask of a highwayman.
Her heart leapt wildly and her head spun with a mixture of excitement and relief. Her muscles strained as she fought to maintain her composure though inside she felt as if every cell of her being were bursting with a riot of thoughts and feelings
“Why the soulful sigh, mistress?” he asked again. The deep timbre of his lowered voice reminded her it was not the marquess standing before her, but the mysterious highwayman. A man whose true identity was supposed to be unknown to her.
She searched for a proper response through the haze of her elation. “A woman often has many reasons for such an inconsequential release of emotion.”
“A woman who turns from the light of merriment to seek out the shadows may have more reasons than most.”
“Perhaps,” Eliza replied. She yearned to confess that her sadness was caused by missing him, but he had come in the guise of highwayman for a reason. He did not want her to know it was him. She owed him much, but at the least she could allow him the opportunity to accomplish whatever his purpose was in approaching her tonight. She took a steadying breath, hoping against hope this unexpected reunion might end in her favor. “How is it you happen to occupy these same shadows, my lord highwayman? Your net is cast far these days.”
He took an unhurried step closer. “Would it frighten you to know I have been looking for you?”
A thrill raced through her, giving her a brace of boldness. “And what took you so long to find me?”
“The time had to be right.”
“Right for what?”
A long moment of silence met her question, and Eliza held her breath. She had been listening to him from two different places. Her mind interpreted the words of the mysterious highwayman to which she replied with a veneer of coy evasion. But her heart heard the meaning behind the words as coming from the marquess himself and the deeper layer of her responses were to him.
“I offer my assistance in curing your loneliness.”
A wave of hope left her slightly lightheaded and she curled her hands into fists to keep from reaching for him. “I did not say I was lonely.”
“You do not have to. Loneliness and sadness hover about you like a shroud.”
“Just how do propose to remove it?” she asked in a quiet murmur.
He stepped forward then and Eliza tipped her head back as he came to stand behind the bench. Beneath the shadows of his hood, she could see the familiar angles of his face, the hint of his rough-textured jaw, likely unshaved since that morning, and the firm curve of his lips. As she had suspected, the upper half of his face was concealed by the highwayman’s mask.
“I offer you an adventure,” he replied. The low strains of his voice struck a harmonious chord with the night. He held out his gloved hand to her. “If you come with me now.”
There was no need to debate her response. Eliza would go with him to the moon if he asked her to. But she held back, remembering he was the highwayman—a near stranger she had encountered but twice.
So she hesitated as she imagined he would expect. She looked back toward the lights flowing from the house. If she left now, no one would miss her until nearly midday tomorrow. Her sister would assume she had retired early as she often did. And her maid knew not to disturb her until later in the day as she had developed a routine of doing her writing in the early morning hours so as to spend the rest of her day exploring.
Even if her absence could be discovered, Eliza didn’t care. She was going with him regardless of consequences. She would worry about what it meant to the rest of her life later.
Turning back to him, she saw that he stood patiently, his leather-gloved hand steady as he waited for her decision. Eliza rose to her feet and placed her hand in his, feeling as if in doing so she gave her entire being into his care. The sensation should have been frightening, and at one time it would have been infinitely so, but tonight it felt inevitable and right.
A chime of laughter peeled from the house and they turned to see a handful of guests spilling out onto the balcony. Without a word, he drew her to his side as he turned toward the shadows. He led her quickly toward the gate tucked into the corner of the outer garden wall.
Beyond the garden lay a stretch of gentle forest. In the day, the forest was lush and inviting with singing birds and bursts of late season wildflowers. But in the night, the woods seemed to conceal a wealth of unexplored secrets.
It was into this dark labyrinth he led her. His stride was sure and direct, as if he walked some unseen familiar path, drawing her deeper and deeper. Eliza remained silent, trusting him, knowing with each heavy beat of her heart that she would not leave these woods without somehow righting her fate. The cool dampness of the forest floor seeped around her soft dancing slippers and the hint of an autumn nip in the air chilled her bare arms by the time he slowed his steps and drew her up closer alongside him. The light of the moon barely penetrated through the tall trees and it took her a moment to notice the large horse standing in wait beneath a large oak.
The horse had lifted its head to watch their approach but otherwise made no other movements to disrupt the eerie quiet of the night.
Only now releasing Eliza’s hand, the marquess stepped to the animal and smoothed a gentling hand along the horse’s neck, murmuring a low greeting. He checked the saddle and unwrapped the reins from around the branch. Turning to Eliza, he spoke in that same tone, husky and deep like the forest itself. “Your curiosi
ty lured you from the garden. Now have you the courage to ride with me?”
Eliza tipped her head to peer into the shadow beneath the hood of his cloak. “Why did you come looking for me?”
He stepped back from the horse and released the ties of his short cloak. Lifting it from around his shoulders, he swept the cloak around her. The weight of it settled over her shoulders and she felt heat emanating from the cloak and a scent that was all so familiar filled her nostrils.
“That will be revealed in time,” he answered as he fastened the cloak across her collar bone. “If you trust me.”
Eliza resisted the smile threatening to form on her lips. He thought she needed to gather courage and boldness to go with him. And perhaps she did, but likely not in the way he thought. From his perspective, she was deciding whether or not to take off on an adventure with a dangerous highwayman. But Eliza understood this to be so much more than that.
There was a niggling fear in her heart that his revival of the masked thief was simply a lark, or a chance to satisfy some curiosity about her, or at the very worst, a scheme of revenge for the humiliation he’d suffered on the day of their wedding.
But that fear was small, and in comparison to the hope that had blossomed at the first sound of his voice, it was inconsequential. Tonight he was giving her another chance, and it did not take courage for her to grasp hold of it with both hands. All it took was the love flowing steady and strong within her.
She stood for a moment, soaking in the warmth from his cloak, looking up at his masked face, now more visible without the hood though still well concealed by the heavy darkness of the forest trees.
“I trust you, my lord highwayman,” she whispered, “but before I mount that horse with you, I demand a solemn vow.”
“What vow, mistress?”
“You must promise to answer three questions of my choosing.” She gave a dismissive gesture of her hand. “And I am not talking about casual questions that come about during conversation. I will preempt each of my inquiries with a reminder of your promise and I expect truthful answers. You are free to fabricate your replies to any other question I may ask, but those three must be answered in all honesty. Do you understand?”
He did not reply right away. Obviously, he would be concerned she might demand to know his identity before he was willing to reveal himself, if he intended to reveal himself at all. He had to decide how much control he was willing to place in her hands. Whatever his plan, she could alter the course of the night at any time with the promise she demanded.
“You have my vow.”
With his words still resonating in the still night atmosphere, he turned and hefted himself smoothly into the saddle. Then he leaned forward and offered her his hand.
Eliza eyed him dubiously but placed her hand in his. In her next breath, she was lifted clear from the ground. The moment of weightlessness drew a breathless laugh from her lips before she landed sideways in his lap.
“Hold tight,” he said as he urged the horse deeper into the forest.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Neither of them spoke for the next three quarters of an hour as they followed the path of a gurgling stream before turning to cross a moonlit glen and reenter the forest again on the other side.
As Eliza sat securely in his arms, her side pressing against his solid chest, his breath steady and his arm strong at her back, she realized she would be content to remain like that for the rest of her life. The twisted jumble of betrayal, guilt and regret that churned within her started to unravel on the quiet midnight journey. As they continued toward some unknown destination, Eliza finally understood that the greatest accomplishments of her life would feel empty if Michael wasn’t at her side. Stoic, arrogant, scowling in a way that darkened his eyes and made her want to grasp his face in her hands and kiss away his disquiet. Somehow he had become tangled up with her vision of the future. She hadn’t even realized it until she had cut him out of it and felt the loss of him everywhere, every day.
She held her tongue and kept her silence though she yearned to profess her feelings, confess all her fears and tell him she would do whatever it took to convince him she could be both a novelist and a wife.
But for now, she recognized there was a freedom in playing along with the deception.
He had a purpose in coming for her tonight, and now she had a purpose as well. Before the arrival of dawn, she would learn what chance there was for the imperious Marquess of Rutherford to love the last of the dreaded Terribury daughters.
“We are here.”
Eliza saw nothing but more black silhouettes of the endless trees surrounding them. Then a structure seemed to form out of the darkness itself. As they drew closer, she realized it was a tower. A simple square tower built of stone with arrow-slit windows and crenellation around the top.
“What is this place?” she asked, intrigued and inspired by the odd structure arising out of the forest for no discernible purpose.
The marquess directed their mount around the tower to one side where a makeshift shelter had been created amongst a thicket of young saplings.
“A lord’s folly. Forgotten and abandoned for decades.” Drawing the horse up, he released the reins and shifted to dismount. He moved with confident strength and care so as not to disrupt her seat. Once on the ground, he roped the horse’s lead to a tree near the shelter and turned back to Eliza. When he settled his hands at her waist, she felt a tingle of anticipation in her center and her heart leapt with excitement. He lowered her to the ground until she stood between him and the horse behind her.
When he did not step away or lift his hands from her body, she lifted her gaze. His brown hair fell haphazardly over his forehead and around his neck. He had let it grow longer since last she had seen him and the rich-brown locks helped to shield the more distinct angles of his features. He towered over her in his nearness. The width of his shoulders a reminder of his physical strength. She was well and truly at his mercy and she felt a thrill that was a little bit wariness and a lot keen readiness.
“Your courage holds out. Do you fear nothing? Even the company of a stranger in the night?”
He had not released her waist and Eliza completed the half-embrace by resting her hands on his arms. She tilted her head and gave a light smile. “But you are no stranger. I know exactly who you are.”
He stiffened. The muscles of his arms tensed beneath her hands. “You do?”
“Of course. You are a thief with the manners of a gentleman. A man who prefers to hold himself removed from others but feels responsible for those who would follow him. Someone who conceals his truth behind a mask of aloof condescension.” Eliza’s voice faded as she realized she may have given herself away as her words trailed into a description more specific to the marquess than the mysterious highwayman she was supposed to be addressing. She held her breath as he remained still and silent for several long moments.
“What do you seek, mistress, that you would agree to come out with me on a night like this?” His voice held a raw edge of emotion and Eliza felt it reverberate in her core.
“I seek only a chance to live life without the restrictions others would impose upon me.”
“Who would confine your spirit in such a way?”
“It is the very nature of our world that would seek to hold me back from fulfilling my dreams.”
“Have you no husband to protect you and see to your happiness?”
“I see to my own happiness,” Eliza answered carefully.
“Yet your sadness tonight is evident.”
Eliza paused before answering. The truth was difficult to express, but she was not on this adventure to be timid. “Recently, in choosing my happiness, I lost something precious.” She did not try to conceal the emotion in her voice. “In being loyal to myself, I had to betray someone whose friendship I treasured.”
“Such choices are never easy. A true friend would understand.”
“It is my sincere hope you are right, and that
some day he may understand why I felt at the time I had no choice.”
“Do you love him?”
Eliza laughed. She would not make it quite that easy for him. “You questions grow far too personal.” She stepped away from him, feeling the slide of his hands from her waist. A light misting rain had begun to fall. “Is there a way into the tower?” she asked.
“This way,” he said as he led her to a small arched door set into the wall of the tower. The wood was so weathered it blended seamlessly with the stone. But the hinges were well-oiled and the door opened soundlessly under his hand.
She preceded him over the threshold to see a stone staircase rising from the floor and following the walls up and around in a twisting path to the top of the tower. The door closed behind her and she was plunged into pitch black darkness.
A flash of panic flew through her at the thought he had shut her in the tower alone. She spun around. Her shoulder brushed against something solid, and on instinct, she lifted her hand. As her palm pressed over the warm beating of his heart, the panic receded as if blown by a swift wind. She bit her lip to resist the desire to step into him, to press her body full-length to his. It tortured her to be so close to him and yet keep herself removed. She could only imagine his shock should she give in to the urging in her soul and throw her arms around his neck to steal a passionate kiss from the highway rogue.
He shifted and she felt him press his large hand against the low inward curve of her spine. Her breath caught and her body softened to accept his embrace. But he did not draw her near. Rather he exerted gentle pressure with his hand to turn her, as if they were partners in a waltz and all she had to do was follow his lead.
“Keep a hand on the wall as you ascend the stairs,” he advised in a low murmur. “It will help to maintain your orientation. I will be behind you the entire way.”