‘Relieve me, you mean steal from me.’ Not that there had been a great deal in it; enough to play a few games of whist with Lord Salter. She eyed the highwayman with suspicion. ‘Did you use my purse to pay for this room?’
He had the grace to look embarrassed. ‘I did. I had no other funds to hand.’
‘Clearly not a good night for you then. Perhaps tomorrow night you will have the luck to hold up a stagecoach with more wealthy travellers than myself!’
He stood up abruptly, looking angry now, and Juliana shrank back. His presence was commanding; she could tell he was used to being obeyed, and she was suddenly frightened of his reaction to her furious words. But he turned away, stalking to the door and looking back at her with a face devoid of emotion.
‘I will fetch refreshments. You are of course, free to leave, though I would warn you it is very late. If you can stand my company until the morning, I will see that you get to wherever you need to go safely. I will not harm you. You have my word...for whatever that is worth.’
‘What is the word of a highwayman worth?’ Juliana challenged, unable to stop herself baiting this man even though it was foolish to do so. On some level, instinct told her to believe him.
He glared at her, removing the chair and unbarring the door. ‘More than a courtesan’s, I’ll wager,’ he threw at her before storming out of the room, cursing to himself about women in general, and a certain young courtesan in particular.
Chapter Three
Guy stormed down the stairs, trying to regain his composure before he encountered anyone. The innkeeper had already looked at him with suspicion when he had arrived with an unconscious Juliana in his arms.
‘Too much gin,’ Guy had shrugged. The innkeeper, a florid man with small, darting eyes in a fleshy face, had huffed in disapproval but made no comment. It was the daughter, however, who Guy came across first. She simpered at him prettily, her eyes boldly sweeping over him and finding him very much to her liking. Guy smiled politely, avoiding her eyes.
‘Is it possible to have some supper brought up? I know it’s very late.’
The girl batted her eyelashes. ‘Of course, sir. It may just be bread and broth, I’m afraid.’
‘That will be fine, thank you.’ Guy tried not to sound impatient with the girl as she continued to look at him boldly.
‘Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?’ There was no mistaking the insinuation.
‘No,’ Guy was abrupt. He was used to the effect he had on women, but found such blatant attempts at seduction distasteful. Though he supposed it was at least more direct than the endless fluttering of fans and demure hints of the ton ladies who were anxious to secure a husband. He thought about the girl upstairs and wondered what had happened in her life to bring her to the role of courtesan; for all the glamour, it must be an insecure and desperate life, shunned by polite society and with any status only lasting as long as the woman’s looks.
The way the woman had spoken to him had angered him but in all honesty how could he blame her? She saw only what was in front of her and believed Guy to be exactly what he had intended her to believe: a ruthless highwayman. A thief. He should never have stooped so low.
It had been a desperate moment. Riding at a furious pace, intent on getting to Bradcote in time to challenge his fool of a brother, Guy had not noticed the two rogues until they had appeared in front of him, pistols drawn and evil grins under their masks.
‘In a rush there are we, sir?’ one of them had sneered as Guy pulled up his mare. Eyeing Guy’s fine clothes, his partner had sniggered.
‘Perhaps we could relieve you of some of your burden, sir? Help you travel a little lighter?’
Guy saw red. Too angry to have a care for the danger he had drawn his own pistol—the scoundrels had hesitated at that—and rode at the nearest man. The ensuing struggle had ended up with one man on the ground, unconscious from the pistol-whipping he had received from Guy, and the other man dashing off into the night—having managed to take both Guy’s purse and watch, he’d left his friend for dead.
‘Coward,’ Guy had snarled into the night after him. He dismounted and stared down at the prone man before him, wondering if he should try to find help. But for what end? The man would not thank him for bringing him before the magistrate, and he had more pressing matters to attend to, such as dealing with his murderous fool of a brother. Guy sighed as he realised that, after this delay, he had little chance of reaching Bradcote in time for the dawn showdown with his brother, and indeed riding alone at this time of night had been asking for trouble. He had certainly not been intending to arrive at Bradcote like this, dishevelled and devoid of wallet or purse. But now here he was with no money to get lodgings for the night, and he couldn’t persuade a kindly innkeeper to give him a room on credit without revealing his identity. Talk spread quickly. But he knew food and some sleep would be advantageous before he faced down Sinclair. Earlier he had been too full of rage to care.
So Guy had become a highwayman. Taking the unconscious man’s hat and mask Guy had waited, on horseback at the nearest road for the first stage, feeling like a complete cad. He would take only what he needed, he decided, being as courteous as possible. Most people were terrified of highwaymen—and with good reason—and would simply surrender what he asked and let him be on his way. It would be reported afterwards, no doubt, and perhaps the man that had robbed him would himself be apprehended. In fact, Guy reasoned, if he had not chased the men off they would no doubt be lurking where he was now, and the unwitting travellers in the next coach would have fared less well in their hands.
Still, it did not make Guy feel any better about his hare-brained scheme and he was about to ride off when he had heard the stage approaching. Steeling himself, he had stepped his horse out onto the road.
He had not been expecting the coach to contain only a woman, and a courtesan on her way to an illicit soiree at that. He had certainly not been expecting her to faint. Or to be so beautiful. As he had made her comfortable in the bed, it had taken all his self-control to avert his eyes from her body, her feminine curves visible under the thin shift. Underneath the too-garish rouge on her cheeks was a perfect peaches-and-cream complexion, and she had a pouting mouth that begged to be kissed. Guy had not felt such an instant attraction to a female in a long time. A pity that the only woman to catch his attention was a Covent Garden woman. Unusual for her to travel out of town to meet a patron; no doubt she had secured herself a regular benefactor who would, for a while at least, keep her in some style. Guy sighed. Unlike his brother, who perused Harris’s List eagerly every year and had been known to frequent some of the most notorious brothels in London, he had never had an interest in such ladies. He wanted a woman to be warm and willing beneath him, not for money or fame but for the sheer enjoyment of it. Although it had been a while since he had lain with a woman. He disliked the cold, empty couplings his brother seemed so enamoured of, without a thought to the woman’s enjoyment. Or at times, even her consent. Sinclair had always been wayward, the spoilt heir, but as he had got older, what could be taken for boyish high jinks had begun to take a much more sinister turn.
The thought of his brother made him frown again as he trod back up the stairs. What the hell he was going to do about this latest situation, he had no idea. In his initial fury he had wanted nothing more than to meet his brother’s challenge and put an end to his dishonourable ways for once and all. A duel. His wastrel of a brother had challenged him to a duel at dawn. With pistols; to the death. Although such contests had long been outlawed,
they were still not uncommon, and it was a matter of honour. Among the ton, honour was everything. Not that his brother had any; no doubt he would have tried to cheat.
The challenge had come earlier that evening, delivered by his brother’s sly-faced valet. After an hour pacing in front of the fire at his lodgings in town, Guy had saddled up his horse and left. Now he had to ask himself, could he really shoot his brother in cold blood? Family was family, after all, but Guy had no doubts that Sinclair would have no such qualms. In truth, Guy knew that there was a very real possibility that his brother could be the death of him. As well as the fact that they were both renowned marksmen and a duel between them was no mere play, the gossip in ton society was that this would not be the first time a man had met his death at Sinclair’s hands. As he re-entered the small room he saw the empty bed and thought for a moment she had gone out of the window; he would have seen her had she come down the stairs. Then he turned to see her sitting by the fire, with the blanket wrapped around her. She had done something to the fire; it was crackling away merrily now, no longer the pitiful smoking he had managed to produce. She looked up at him as he entered, her expression unreadable, but he thought he saw a flicker of apprehension in her eyes and felt like a complete cad. She must be terrified underneath her feisty demeanour, and that was entirely down to him. What a mess he had made.
‘Is something troubling you?’ she asked, looking genuinely concerned. Guy sighed heavily and resolved that he must tell her at least part of the truth, if only to reassure her she was not at the mercy of a dangerous rogue.
Just as he opened his mouth to speak, however there was a rap at the door and the innkeeper’s daughter appeared, bearing a plate of food. The smell made Guy’s stomach rumble as he realised how long it had been since he had eaten.
The girl looked at Guy with the same undisguised wanting she had displayed downstairs, then glanced at the woman by the fire with distaste. Suddenly annoyed, Guy snatched the plate from her.
‘That will be all, thank you,’ he snapped. The courtesan looked at him in surprise, though the ghost of a smile played at the corners of her mouth.
‘It would appear she liked you,’ she commented wryly.
‘Do you have a name?’ Guy blurted out. She looked so vulnerable, her petite form huddled up by the fire, that he felt a sudden desire to protect her. It made a hypocrite of him, considering the circumstances that had brought her here.
She hesitated before speaking. ‘Juliana,’ she said softly, omitting her surname. He nodded at her.
‘Guy. Do you mind if I join you by the fire?’
She raised her eyebrows at him as though surprised by his sudden courtesy. ‘You have already abducted me, undressed me and stolen my purse; why bother to concern yourself with my feelings now?’
Guy glared at her, his protective feelings forgotten. She was right, of course, but nevertheless she was an insolent chit.
‘I undressed you, madam,’ he said the last word with no small amount of sarcasm, ‘because your clothes were damp from carrying you here; it was beginning to rain. As for abduction, if I were the scoundrel you believe me to be, I would simply have left you at the side of the road, and stripped you of your pelisse and gloves, too!’
Juliana lifted one shoulder in a delicate shrug. ‘Instead you compromise my honour and reputation by bringing me here?’
‘Reputation? Need I remind you where you were going before I interrupted you?’ At that Juliana flushed and dropped her gaze. Tears stung at her eyes and seeing them Guy stepped forward, an apology on his lips, but she looked up again and glared at him with such force that he took a helping of bread and stormed to the other side of the room, sitting on the chair next to the bed. They ate in silence, the air simmering between them.
Juliana was ravenous, foregoing any ladylike dainty nibbling in the face of a day without food and the ensuing shock. To think only a few hours earlier she had been on her way to Lord Salter, wrapped up in all her finery and delivered like a prize package. As much as she had hardly been looking forward to the meeting, she needed a wealthy patron to survive her new life. She wondered what the very proper, blustering Lord Salter had said when his frightened coachman had turned up sans Juliana. She doubted there would be any search parties out for her. She would have to make her own way back to Rose in the morning, who would know what to do to rectify the situation. Although quite how she was supposed to do that when the mysterious highwayman had taken what little money, she had she had no idea. Had he no idea of the mess he had left her in? She could hardly help the momentary thought that she would be better left by the road, before reprimanding herself for being weak. She would get by; she had to. She had her wits, her education and of course her looks and the tricks Rose had introduced her to. Although, she had yet to put those tricks into practice. She looked over at Guy, flushing at the thought of doing so with him. From courtesan to criminal’s woman—could she sink any lower?
‘Nevertheless, sir, regardless of your opinion as to my destination, you have cost me dear this night.’ Lord Salter had been interested in her for her virginity, he may well discard her if he thought she had been abducted and ravished by a highway thief. The implications of that frightened her; she could not live like Rose, giving herself to any wealthy patron, ferreting away for what would no doubt be a lonely old age.
He raised his eyebrows at her and she bristled, wishing he would stop looking at her like that. ‘I will recompense you for the room—and for anything else you have lost this night.’
Juliana could not help giving a mocking laugh. ‘How will you do that? By scaring the wits out of some other poor woman, no doubt.’
Guy looked as if he were about to say something, then closed his mouth in a tight line. Juliana regarded him thoughtfully.
‘There is something more to your story isn’t there? You do not strike me as any common criminal.’
‘Perhaps.’ Guy wondered how much he should tell her. The woman deserved some sort of explanation, given what he had out her through, but supposing she knew his brother? Sinclair was well known about town, both among the ton ladies come for the Season and women of a very different sort. He did not want the story of his actions tonight getting around; his brother had disgraced the family name enough. ‘I could say the same for yourself,’ he said instead, ‘it can’t be an easy path you’ve chosen.’ He felt a sudden stab of sympathy for this young woman, who in spite of her feisty demeanour had an air of vulnerability about her. Not that she would thank him for pointing that out, he was sure.
‘I felt there was little other choice,’ she murmured, dropping her gaze and sounding suddenly so wretched that Guy crossed over to her and laid a hand on her shoulder. What was wrong with him that he kept letting this beautiful young woman antagonise him?
‘Forgive me. I have no right to question you, especially after your trials tonight.’
Juliana looked up, her eyes glowing in the firelight. Her face and lips were flushed, her eyes huge, and she looked so alluring that he had bent to kiss her before he could stop himself.
She gasped, but did not pull away. Rather she tipped her mouth to his, and what he had meant to be a soft kiss became instead a fierce crushing of mouths. Her arms went up and around his neck and he pulled her to her feet, the smell and feel of her making his pulse throb, as well as other things, lower down his body. As he kissed her harder and pulled her against him, she moaned involuntarily into his mouth and moulded her body into his, fitting into him as
if she was meant to be there. Guy cupped her buttocks, his breath ragged, then staggered back in surprise as she pushed him with considerable force. Her eyes were blazing with anger now, not desire.
‘How dare you!’ she hissed, ‘no doubt this was your intention all along!’ and with a choked, angry sob she pushed past him and ran out of the door. Guy stumbled and fell nearly into the fire.
‘Juliana!’ he shouted, hearing her footsteps running down the stairwell. Righting himself, he went after her, only to find an open door and a white blur running into the dark. He shouted after her again, inwardly cursing the silly girl at the inn for leaving the door unlocked. He debated getting his horse from the stable but decided against it, tearing after her instead. She was heading into the forest, in the rain and clad in only her chemise. With the men he had encountered earlier possibly still abroad.
‘Juliana!’ he ran after her, his heart hammering.
Chapter Four
Juliana ran until she thought her breath would give out and then stopped, panting with exertion and a tumult of emotions. How dare he! Promising not to harm her and then handling her so. She tried to ignore the voice in her head that pointed out her passionate response to his kiss would have hardly been a deterrent,
Getting her breath back, she looked around her and felt a stab of fear as reality sank in. In the dark and the rain and surrounded by thick trees, she wasn’t even sure which way she had come. She was cold, and in complete disarray. If any man should come on her like this, well, she doubted he would be as gentlemanly as the mysterious Guy. But would he be so gentlemanly now, if she did find her way back? Perhaps she should make for the road. If there was an inn, there had to be houses not too far away. She looked around her for any sign of light but could see only the thick shadows of trees. Twigs snapped behind her and she whirled round, terrified.
THE VIRGIN COURTESAN Page 2