by Gina Lamm
“Please, Mrs. Knightsbridge, can we take a break? I’ve listened to all the backward, sexist, historical crap I can take for a while.”
With a roll of her eyes, the housekeeper nodded. “If you insist, Miss Jamie. I’ll leave you to practice your embroidery. We’ll resume our lessons at teatime.”
Jamie focused on the scrap of fabric in her lap until the door shut behind the housekeeper, then took great pleasure in chucking it across the room. It hit the back of the door and flopped onto the rug like a dead fish.
1816 sucked ass.
Eight
Lunch was tasty, especially since there was no cranky earl to contend with, but afterward, Jamie was bored out of her mind. She prowled around the house for hours, desperately searching for something to keep her occupied. Also, she tried to keep out of Mrs. Knightsbridge’s way. She didn’t want to risk being sentenced to more embroidery. Talk about a fate worse than death. She’d rather never play a computer game for the rest of her life than pick up that damned needle and fabric again.
She was even desperate enough to try to find Mike, despite the whole greyhoundus smoochus interruptus, but he’d apparently bolted for the afternoon. Typical. The one time he could have been useful, and he was nowhere to be found.
Baron followed Jamie through the house, nails tick-ticking on the wooden floors. He bumped her hand with his nose, and she scratched his ears as she propped against a wall in the upstairs hallway. She made a face at the sour-looking portrait of some crotchety old aristocrat. Did he really have to look that grumpy?
“Pardon me, miss?”
Jamie jumped, putting a hand on her thumping heart. It was a footman, a guy who looked about sixteen. His cheeks held bright pink splotches, which contrasted sharply with his orangey-red hair.
“Yes?”
“Mrs. Knightsbridge sent me to fetch you. It is time for your lessons.”
Jamie stared at the boy, horror widening her eyes. “You aren’t heartless, are you?” She took a step closer to him. His eyes went wide, and his face paled, making his strawberry-colored cheeks almost neon.
“I beg your pardon, miss?”
“You look like a nice guy. You don’t look like a guy who would willingly send a girl into the maw of Mount Doom. I really don’t think you want to do this.”
“But Mrs. Knightsbridge said—”
“I know what she said.” Jamie lowered her voice into a whisper and bent her head, squeezing her eyes shut as hard as she could. It wasn’t hard to muster a drop of moisture at the corner of her eye. When she looked back up at the footman, she knew he could see the gleaming wetness.
“Please don’t make me.” She let a little quiver sneak into her voice. “Please. I just want some time to be free. Just to take a little stroll. Can you tell her you couldn’t find me, and then ask Muriel to accompany me on a little walk?”
Jamie felt sort of bad manipulating the young footman like that. After all, he was only doing his job. But seriously, another two hours of Countess 101 would make her permanently brain dead.
The footman nodded reluctantly, worrying his lip with his teeth. “All right, miss.”
She smiled at him tremulously. “Thanks. What’s your name?”
“George, miss.”
“Thank you, George. I’ll wait outside for Muriel.” As he turned to walk away, she gave him a sad little wave. Poor kid. She hoped it wouldn’t get him into trouble. She looked down at the hound by her side.
“Hey, Baron, want to go for a walk?”
Jamie put on a cape kind of thing that she found in the trunk at the foot of her bed, and she used a length of twine she found to make a leash for Baron. He probably had one somewhere, but she didn’t want to waste time looking for it. As they stopped at the bottom of the stairs, Mrs. Knightsbridge’s voice floated down the hall from the direction of the dining room, questioning George about her whereabouts. Fortunately, Thornton wasn’t around, so there was no one to witness their covert exit. Moving as quickly and quietly as they could, she and Baron slipped out the front door and ducked down beside a bush to wait for Muriel.
Much as she hated to admit it, she was kind of having fun. The air had warmed a little since her morning walk in the garden, and it was turning out to be a really nice day. A pair of well-dressed ladies strolled by and gave Jamie an odd look. Playing it casual, Jamie propped against the wall and examined the prickly leaves of the bush she hid beside.
“Baron, I’m not sure if she’s coming.” Jamie worried the inside of her cheek with her teeth. “Think it would be awful if we took a quick walk through the park alone? It won’t take long.”
The whip-like tail wagged in answer.
Jamie smiled and stood. “Good enough for me, dog. Let’s go.”
Baron trotted along at her side as they wound their way down the long lane in the direction that Jamie hoped was the park Muriel had mentioned.
Jamie hummed to herself as they walked, smiling at strangers that they passed. Some of them smiled back, most looked puzzled, and a select few guys actually leered at her. It didn’t bother her. She felt fairly confident in her ability to take care of herself. Leah had dragged her to one of those self-defense courses a couple of years ago, and she’d passed with flying colors.
She knew from what Mrs. Knightsbridge had told her that walking around without a chaperone was a huge no-no. Especially since no one knew where she was. But honestly, she’d tried to get Muriel to come with her. It wasn’t really her fault it hadn’t worked out. Besides, nobody knew she was staying with Micah. She wasn’t from this time and place, and she certainly didn’t have a future as the Countess of Dunnington, no matter what Mrs. K and her witchy sister thought.
She and Baron crossed the street to the pretty little park. While passing through the arched gates, a man’s unfamiliar voice called behind her.
“Ho there, miss!”
She turned and tried to hide her confusion at the pair in front of her.
“Hi,” Jamie said with a small smile.
The woman, whose boobs were nearly falling out of her dress, was sitting in an open carriage next to a thin man. He was dressed in the most brightly patterned waistcoat Jamie had ever seen. His companion’s mint-green gown matched the leaves on her straw bonnet, contrasting nicely with her honey-colored hair.
“Lovely day, is it not?” the lady called in a sweet voice.
Consternation nipping at her heels, Jamie stopped next to the carriage. Baron tugged at the twine in her hand. Even though she wasn’t sure if she should be talking to these people, she didn’t want to be rude—although she would enjoy having a conversation with somebody that wasn’t a stuck up earl or his sadly misguided housekeeper.
“It is nice,” Jamie agreed.
The thin guy looked down his nose at Jamie, the wind buffeting his mousy brown hair around the brim of his hat. “Your intriguing coiffure caught my eye.”
Jamie put her hand up to her hair self-consciously. “Um, thanks.”
The woman gave a kind smile. “What is your name, dear?”
“I’m Jamie Marten.” Jamie stuck her free hand up to the green-garbed woman.
The lady looked more and more amused, but extended a gloved hand to Jamie. Jamie shook it with her bare one.
“Marilyn Munroe,” the lady said.
Jamie couldn’t help but laugh. “Really? Marilyn…Munroe?”
Her heart-shaped face lost a little of its pleasant expression. “Yes, that is my name.”
Jamie composed herself. “I’m sorry, I just know someone else with that name. It’s a nice name.”
She smiled again, seemingly placated. “I thank you.”
At that moment, Jamie saw a carriage go by with a very familiar earl in it. An earl whose face looked like he’d been possessed by the patron saint of Rage. An earl who was probably going to cheerfully strangle Jamie when he caught her. He was sitting next to a golden-haired girl with thin lips, big eyes, and a white hat. It was covered with feathers and cherries. J
amie hated it, and her, on sight. The one thing that made her feel a little better was that he didn’t seem to be paying blondie the slightest bit of attention. His head swiveled as they passed, eyes staying trained on Jamie the whole time.
“Well, it was nice meeting you, but I’ve got to get going.” Jamie craned her neck toward his carriage, trying to figure out which way he was heading so she could bolt in the opposite direction.
Marilyn turned and looked after the carriage that had disappeared into the park. “You are acquainted with Lord Dunnington?”
“Um, only a little. We’re not, like, close or anything. Just friends.” Jamie stared at the park entrance, petrified that the carriage would emerge and Mike would murder her.
The loudly dressed guy beside Marilyn nudged the woman with his elbow. “Well, at least this mistress shan’t cause much of a stir if she drops dead.” He laughed loudly, coughing barks that sounded sort of painful.
Jamie stared at the guy. What is it with these people? “Why would I drop dead? That’s a real asshole thing to say. And excuse me, but no, I am not his mistress. I’m not anybody’s mistress. I’m an independent woman who can do fine on her own, and your archaic, backward ideas about females completely do not apply to me.”
He smirked and shook his head. Addressing Marilyn, he said, “I am quite glad that my own mistress behaves with much more circumspection. Come, my dear. Say good-bye to your simple friend.”
Marilyn smiled, her perfect face puzzled. “It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
With a sharp command to the horses, the guy flicked the reins, and the couple’s carriage disappeared down the street.
“Come on, Baron,” Jamie said, scanning the path into the park. No sign of Mike. He’d apparently kept going for his afternoon ride with Miss Pretty-Pretty-Princess. “Let’s finish our walk.”
Jamie and Baron kept on past the park, since she didn’t want to chance running into Mike again. When the shadows grew long and the air started to cool, they turned around.
“All right, dog, time to head home.” Jamie patted Baron’s silky ears as they walked. He really was a nice dog when he wasn’t constantly knocking her down. He probably needed more exercise.
They’d taken so many turns and byways that Jamie wasn’t really sure exactly where the house was. She walked back in what she hoped was the right direction, holding Baron’s twine tightly. As it got darker, she got more and more worried. What if she couldn’t find the way back?
If she asked anyone for directions, they might find out she was staying with Mike. And she didn’t want to bring him any more trouble. Damn it, she should have waited for Muriel. She hadn’t meant to go this far; she was just trying to avoid Mike’s wrath. Why’d she have to be so fracking impulsive?
Her slippers had started to rub blisters on her feet. She stopped for a moment, leaning on a newly lighted post to adjust her borrowed footwear. Propping her ankle on her opposite knee, she pulled off the slipper and examined the raw spot that had appeared beneath her borrowed silk stockings.
“Well, well, wot’s this then?”
“Looks ta me like a bit o’ muslin waitin’ fer a toss.”
Jamie looked up as two men approached from across the street. They were both grinning at her, their brownish, rotting teeth proclaiming their lack of dental hygiene. One had a dark beard, and the other shaggy sideburns. The smell of their BO hit her when they were still a good ten feet away.
She shoved the slipper back on her foot and waved a hand in front of her nose. “Jeez, Baron, you’d think they could at least smell each other.” She tugged lightly on the twine, and Baron obligingly walked next to her as they continued down the street.
“Oy, where you goin’, then?”
Jamie looked back over her shoulder. The men were following her. Crap. “I’m going home. Leave me alone.”
“Don’ worry, sweets, we’ll do ya right.” Coarse laughter made her spine tingle with fear. “Aye, I’ve an itch ta scratch, and ye’ll do just fine.”
She walked faster. “Fuck off, assholes.” She didn’t turn that time, but she spoke loud enough that she knew they’d hear her.
“Will ya listen to the tongue in her head! Wot a naughty lass she is.” Jamie heard the wet sound of spit hitting the cobbles.
“I loike ’em naughty.”
Elongating her stride, she rounded the corner. Baron had to trot to keep up. When she looked ahead, she realized she’d made a grave mistake. Instead of the stately homes that she had hoped to see, there were docks spread out in front of her, only a few ships moored there. Damn it, she’d really screwed up this time. She must have wandered miles out of the way. At this late hour, there wasn’t a lot of activity, but there were plenty of places a couple of guys could hurt a clueless girl. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
“Baron,” she whispered to the hound who’d kept pace with her, “I’m going to have to let you go to fight these guys. Please don’t get lost, okay? I really like you, and I’d hate for anything bad to happen to you because I got us into this mess. I’m sorry.” Fear put a tremble in her voice. She swallowed it and kept moving.
The thudding footsteps behind her were coming closer, and she searched her surroundings for any sort of weapon she could use against them. When they came after her, they’d probably have no issues using force. She had to be ready to protect herself.
There. A length of metal propped up against a large wooden crate was only about thirty feet away. She would get there, then make a stand. Her hand shook on Baron’s leash as she mentally ran through the checklist of targets that she’d gotten in that self-defense class. Let’s see, nose, solar plexus, groin…
Before she could reach the makeshift weapon, a meaty hand closed heavily on her shoulder. The smelly man with the beard spun her around and pulled her close to him. The stench of him was only surpassed by the disgusting feeling of his fleshy body pressed against her.
“’Ere, lass, give us a kiss.” His blotchy red lips pursed as they descended toward her face.
“I’ll kiss you, all right,” she spat as she rammed her knee upward as hard as she could.
He let her go, coughing and gagging as he cupped his junk. He fell to the ground, moaning.
“Git her, Jacko!” His voice was a hoarse whisper.
Sideburns started toward her, an ugly twist to his mouth. “Ye’ll pay for that, lassie.”
“No, she won’t.” The sound of approaching hoofbeats made her glance away from her attacker.
Never in Jamie’s life had she thought she’d have a knight in shining armor come rescue her. Well, except maybe for that time that she was questing in the Quailiard Caverns and she was overcome with were-jaguars. Then, a knight in shining silver armor who happened to be doing the same quests rescued her.
Mike wasn’t exactly a knight, and his dark, long cloak wasn’t exactly shining armor, but when Jamie saw him jump down from the back of his horse and draw a thin blade from his cane to defend her honor against Sideburns, she could honestly feel a swoon coming on. Bloody murder flashed in the earl’s eyes as he charged at the two creeps.
“Mike!”
“’Ey, Gordon, it’s a toff. Gerrup.” Sideburns backed off at the sight of Mike’s slender blade trained at his chest and yanked on Beard’s arm. Helping his still-sniveling friend to his feet, he dragged him off toward the opposite end of the docks.
When they’d gone, Jamie couldn’t help throwing her arms around Mike. He felt as wonderful against her body as Beard had felt horrible. The difference was night and day. “Oh, Mike, thank you. I’m so sorry. I won’t ever do that again.”
He didn’t hug her back, but she didn’t care. When she pulled back to look at him, the blood and murder had disappeared, but his eyes were still thundercloud dark in the dim light of the streetlamps.
“You are correct, madam. You won’t. How could you be such a fool? Do you know what they would have done to you?” He nearly roared at her by the end of his question, knuckles white as
he clenched a fist. “Murder would have been a blessing by the time they were through. Do you have no care at all for your safety?”
She backed off a little, nervous at his vehemence. “I…I’m sorry.”
He hung his head, shoulders shuddering as he breathed. Three seconds, four, and he lifted his head and set his jaw. After mounting his horse again, he reached a hand down to her. When she swallowed hard and took it, he pulled her up behind him. Taking Baron’s twine, he wrapped the extra length around his gloved hand.
With a soft word to the horse, Mike guided it back the way she’d come. Baron trotted beside them, ears pricked and long whip-like tail wagging.
She held tightly to Mike, the unfamiliar bouncing of the horse uncomfortable. The dress was racked up above her knees, sitting astride as she was. She was so in her head about Mike’s reaction that she didn’t have a chance to be nervous about the thousand-pound animal plodding along beneath her. As awkward, uncomfortable, and terrifying as the night had been, she couldn’t help but enjoy the sensation of Mike’s warm, muscular back pressed tightly against her. She let her cheek rest against the black wool of his cloak. She could almost pretend that things were wonderful this way. That she was happy here and that Mike liked her, and…
At that moment, Mike stopped the horse. A footman, thankfully not George, helped her down.
“Escort her back in, please. Inform Mrs. Knightsbridge if she leaves the house unescorted again that there will be dire consequences.” Mike’s voice was as cold as the Arctic Sea. The ride back home must not have done anything to cool his temper.
The footman bowed and guided her toward the house as if she were a naughty child. Jamie looked over her shoulder at Mike’s departing back, her gratitude now tainted. A woman on a white horse approaching Mike caught her eye. There was something dark in her gaze as she looked at Jamie. Ignoring her, Jamie slogged through the door, Baron trotting happily at the footman’s heels. She reminded herself of the reasons why she and Mike would never ever ever be together. This episode was only the latest in a growing list of perfect examples.