Oh, she knew what men and women did. She knew the mechanics of lovemaking. On her travels, she saw a lot, and nagged her brother until he answered all her questions, but she never knew how it could feel. And she could not imagine performing the act with anyone. Until now.
Lucian’s hands cradled her face. “Emma,” he groaned, “we must stop.”
A tremor went through her. Did she want to stop? She opened her eyes and saw Lucian’s torment.
His thumb swept her cheek. “You should not be taken on this filthy ground, love.” He stroked her once again. “When we make love, it will be on a bed. A soft bed.” His voice went low and deep. “As I shed your clothes, I will kiss a path down your bare skin.” Moving his hand, his fingers grazed the side of her face, then stroked her neck. Her skin tingled where he touched her. Then he moved lower and brushed the side of her breast.
Emma dared not breathe, her body on fire.
“But I won’t stop there. I will continue to kiss you,” he said, his hand moving down her waist.
She closed her eyes, a strangled moan escaping her lips. Please, oh, please, she chanted within, not knowing what she was asking. Then she swallowed hard as his hand moved between their bodies.
“And I will taste you. Here.”
Her body bucked hard when his fingers grazed her. Even through the material of her breeches, she could feel every excruciating touch of his wicked fingers. He traced her stinging, pulsating center and she held her breath, not daring to move, else he stop. Dear God, she wanted to tear her clothes away and let him have her this moment.
“After you are ready for me,” he whispered, moving his hand away. “I will make you mine.” Then he pressed himself between her legs. She felt the outline of his long, hard shaft between her legs. He slid up and down, making her tremble. Bliss and torture at once.
At that moment, Emma did not care they were in some filthy, old stable. Tremors of want wracked her body. She would die if he didn’t do something to ease the tight coil within her. “Please, Lucian,” she said, opening her eyes.
His dark eyes gleamed as he stared hard at her. “I want you so much it hurts, Emma.” As she opened her mouth, he pressed a finger to her lips. “And I want us married before I take you.”
While her stunned brain processed his words, Lucian rose from the ground and pulled her to her feet. Her legs were jelly and she pressed a hand against the wall to keep herself upright.
He moved to the door. “It has stopped raining. We should leave,” he said and swung it open.
A pistol appeared, leveled two inches from Lucian’s forehead. “Aye, mate, and takes me with you,” Dempsey growled.
Chapter 10
Lucian jerked to a halt. How in the hell had Dempsey found them? He watched the man give a slow smile with a missing top tooth. “Oy, Binks, they’re in ‘ere,” he yelled over his shoulder. Then he nodded. “Now, you and that tart o’ yours are coming wiv us.”
The odds of prying the pistol from Dempsey’s hands went down as Binks came running up to them, carrying his own pistol. “I told ye they would stop. Didn’t I, Dempsey.”
“Aye, ye did.” Dempsey’s hand kept the pistol steady. “Now, tie ‘em up real tight, Binks.” He gave a slow grin. “Start wiv the girl.”
Lucian must have given away his surprise. Dempsey chuckled. “Ye thought I would think she was a boy?” He laughed harder. “I played a little game o’ me own, I did. As soon as I left the stable, I hid and watched ye leave. Me and Binks followed ye.” His smile faded. “Ye almost lost us when ye found this place, though.”
Dempsey jerked the pistol. “Move back, real slow. That’s right. Now stop.” He took a step forward. “Ye got the rope, Binks?”
“I gots it.” Binks moved around Dempsey and hurried to Emma. He had the pistol tucked in the belt of his pants.
Should he try for Dempsey’s weapon? A trickle of sweat skittered down Lucian’s temple as he considered the situation. If they were here for Emma, for her to tell them where to find Sean, they could take her. What did they need him for? Would they shoot him and leave him for dead? Yet, he heard Dempsey tell Binks to tie them both. Lucian heaved a sigh. That did not mean he was going anywhere.
“Let go of me, you big ox!”
Lucian turned to see Emma pushing Binks’ hands away.
“Hold still,” Binks growled. When he tried binding her wrists, she pulled away and the rope slid to the ground. With a snarl, Binks retrieved the rope and stalked to her. “Behave, twit, or I’ll knock ye silly.”
“Don’t you dare harm her,” Lucian snapped.
Binks glanced over his shoulder and smirked. “Ain’t nofin’ ye can do.” But when he turned back around, his wide shoulders jerked back.
“Perhaps not, but I can,” Emma said, holding Binks’ pistol with both hands, the barrel pointed at the center of the man’s chest. “And if you move, Binks, I’ll shoot you dead.”
Lucian’s father taught him one of the best strategies was that of surprise. He didn’t think, he acted. While Dempsey watched Emma and Binks, Lucian sprang forward. He lowered his shoulder and threw his weight against the man’s middle. With a grunt, Dempsey flew back. The pistol exploded in his hand as they fell to the muddy ground outside.
Then Lucian reared back his arm and gave Dempsey a solid punch to the nose. Hearing the crunch, seeing the blood splatter beneath his knuckles, and hearing Dempsey’s roar of pain, Lucian knew he had broken the man’s nose. As he intended.
Dempsey squealed and pressed both hands to his wound. Lucian rose. Knowing the man would be writhing in the mud for a while, he hurried back into the stable. And skittered to a halt.
Binks lay face-down at Emma’s feet. The pistol shook in her hands as she kept it trained on him. “What happened?” he asked, stepping toward her. “Emma?”
Her head jerked up, her face chalky. “I-I don’t know.” She shook her head. “I didn’t shoot him. H-He just fell over.”
Lucian kneeled before Binks and found the hole in the man’s back. He pressed fingers to the side of his neck then rose and came to Emma’s side. “When Dempsey’s gun went off,” he said, reaching for the pistol in her trembling hands, “Binks received the ball.” He took the weapon and swallowed the lump in his throat. It could have been Emma.
“Is he dead?” she whispered, her wide eyes lifting to his.
“I am afraid so.”
Instead of dropping from a dead faint, Emma gave a nod, then glanced toward the door. “What of Dempsey?”
Lucian placed the pistol in his belt. “Writhing on the ground with a broken nose.”
She took a deep breath, then walked to the door, stepping around Binks.
“What are you doing?” he asked, catching up to her brisk strides.
Emma stopped at Dempsey’s side and folded her arms. The man was still squalling on the ground. “You, there,” she said and jabbed him in the side with the tip of her boot. “Who hired you?”
Blood seeped out from between Dempsey’s fingers. “Me nose. It’s broke.”
“I’ll break more than your nose if you don’t answer the lady’s question,” Lucian growled.
“Awwrite, awwrite.” With a wince, the man sat up. His words were muffled by his hands. “A chap named Whitehall.”
Emma’s brows rose. “What did he hire you to do, exactly?”
“Take ye to ‘im. Alive, o’ course.”
“What does he want with her?” Lucian asked.
“I dunno.”
“Where were you to take her?”
Dempsey pulled a filthy handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at the blood and mud covering the bottom half of his face. His swollen nose was cocked to one side. He spit on the ground before answering. “Stratton. A fancy ‘ouse there.”
Lucian glanced at Emma. Her lips tightened a moment and she gave a sharp nod. “His family estate. I know it.” And from her glittering eyes, he knew her thoughts. Whitehall was after the treasure. Sorrington had spoken the truth.
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Blowing out a breath, Lucian glanced around. He spotted two horses tied up nearby, then glanced back to Dempsey. “I think it would be best for you to disappear for a while. You are not taking the lady anywhere.”
The man dabbed at his bleeding nose and nodded. “Me sister lives in Dorset.”
Lucian nodded. “Very good.”
Dempsey glanced to the stable. “Binks?”
“Was struck when your pistol fired. He didn’t make it.”
With a scowl, Dempsey spit on the ground. “Was a good mate, ‘e was.” He scrambled to his feet, wincing from the effort. “No family. I’ll bury ‘im.”
As Lucian started to turn, Dempsey stopped him. “Wait.” His blue eyes slid to Emma and back. “Whitehall wants ‘er. Wants ‘er bad. There will be others come.”
Drawing in a slow, deep breath, Lucian nodded then turned around, wishing Emma hadn’t heard those words. Yet, she looked more angry than scared. Lucian glanced to the stable. “Let us get Juliet and get the hell out of here.”
Leading his horse outside, he let her drink from the stone trough at the side of the stable. Fresh rainwater had filled the basin for the picky horse and he was relieved to find her drinking. She could go a while without her oats and hay, but only two days without water.
Lucian saddled Juliet then helped Emma mount. When he hopped up behind her, he glanced at the sky, glad to see the storm had receded and the sun blazed overhead. He urged Juliet to move. They needed to find food.
As Lucian maneuvered the horse through the trees, he glanced at Emma. She was stiff in his arms and quiet. He supposed he couldn’t blame her. She had been through a lot in the last hour. Leaning forward, he spoke in soft tones. “Do not worry, Emma. I will get you to safety.”
She glanced over her shoulder, a frown building between her brows. “What do you mean by that?” Her eyes narrowed. “You are taking me to my brother. Nowhere else.”
“Did you not hear Dempsey?”
“I heard him. But it changes nothing. I will find my brother.”
Lucian could not believe his ears. Yet, from the determination glittering in her gaze, he knew he would not convince her otherwise. He drew in a deep breath then stopped Juliet. “Listen to me, minx. My cousin has a house in Bristol.”
She opened her mouth and he set a finger to her lips to stem the argument.
“There, I can hire men to help us search for Sean. We don’t have to do it alone.”
Her eyes widened, then she smiled. Lucian couldn’t help himself. He lowered his hand and dropped his lips down over hers. To see her happy, he would do anything, he decided, and drew her closer to him.
The squeak of a wheel brought him out of the delicious fog of passion. Lucian lifted his head and watched Emma open her eyes. The pupils were round and dark. Her cheeks tinged pink. He wanted nothing more than to kiss her again, but the rattle of a wagon had him glancing to the right. Through the trees, he caught sight of a skinny gray horse pulling an ancient cart.
Emma turned to see what he stared at. “Is that the road?”
“Yes,” he said and urged Juliet in that direction.
They caught up to the wagon and Lucian hailed the driver, a little man with a thick white beard and a straw hat. “Hello, good sir.”
The man raised the brim of his hat. “Wot can I do for ye?”
“How far is the nearest village?”
Nodding his head, the man said, “No’ far up the road.”
“Does it have an inn?”
“Aye. A good one.” His white beard parted, revealing two yellow teeth. “Ask for Beulah,” he said with a wink.
Lucian thanked the man and urged Juliet on. He was anxious for food, sleep, and a bath. Lifting his hand, he rubbed the stubble on his chin. Perhaps, he should leave the growing beard. Until they reached Bristol and help, both he and Emma needed to remain disguised. He glanced to a rip in his sleeve, thinking he would purchase them new clothes.
A trickle of sweat slid down the side of his face and Lucian wiped it away. The sun glistened in the cloudless blue sky, making him wish for a wide-brimmed hat. Something he would put on the purchase list for them both.
Juliet plodded down the road. Although the rain had caused some mud, the sun had done its job to bake away most of the wetness. After another hour, they came to a small fishing village and the inn on a cliff, overlooking the sea. Lucian slid to the ground and helped Emma from the saddle.
She glanced at the white daubed building before them. “How long will it take us to reach Bristol?”
Lucian wiped the sweat from his forehead. “Two days. Less if I can secure a horse for you.” He patted his horse’s rump. “Juliet is strong, but carrying two slows her down.” His stomach rumbled and he turned toward the inn. “Come. Let us get something to eat.”
Emma adjusted her knitted hat and followed him inside.
As Lucian’s eyes adjusted to the dim interior, he noticed the tables were empty. Good. The less people to see them, the better, he thought.
A woman walked out from the kitchen and stopped when she saw him. Her dark eyes moved up and down his body and a sultry smile spread over her lips. She fluffed her red hair and sauntered forward. Stopping before him, she threw back her shoulders, pushing out her generous bosoms. “Ye need somefin’, ducks?”
Lucian cleared his throat. Must be Beulah. “Something to eat, if you please.”
She winked. “Oh, I please, awwrite.” Her eyes traveled up and down him once again. “Me name’s Beulah, ducks.”
He nodded to Emma. “We both need something to eat. And rooms.”
The smile slid from Beulah’s face. “Food, I can give ye. Not rooms.” She heaved a sigh. “Some fancy chap rented them all.” Then her eyes lit and the sultry half-smile returned. “Unless ye stay in me own room for the night,” she purred. Leaning forward, she added, “And I can give yer boy a good tuppin’ too.” With a wink, she straightened.
Lucian watched a slow scowl spread across Emma’s face. He spoke up before she gave them both away. “Let me think on your, er, offer,” he said. “But we will take the food.”
Beulah nodded. “Sit where ye like, ducks. I gots some stew left.”
“Would it be too much trouble to have someone feed my horse?”
“No trouble at all,” she purred. “I’ll ‘ave Trevor see to it.”
Lucian moved to a corner table, where he could watch the door, and sat. Emma took the chair opposite him. Glancing toward the kitchen, she asked, “What did that woman mean? What’s a good tuppin’?”
Almost choking on his laughter, Lucian shook his head. “You are too young to know.”
Before Emma could press the issue, Beulah arrived with steaming bowls of stew and hunks of bread. The delicious smells made his stomach rumble. Yet, before she could leave, Lucian asked her a question. “You said someone rented all the rooms. Can you tell me who?” he asked with a slow smile.
Beulah glanced around and lowered her voice. “I ain’t supposed to tell, but fer ye, I will. Name’s Whitehall. Rented the rooms for ‘is men. ‘Bout a dozen of ‘em.” She settled a rough hand over his. “Looking for some girl traveling wif an earl.” She gave his fingers a squeeze. “Can ye imagine an earl around ‘ere, ducks?”
Lucian shook his head. “That is hard to imagine, Beulah. Thank you for telling me.”
She straightened and swatted the air. “Aw, it ain’t nofin’.” Turning to leave, she stopped and came back. “If ye need sommat to stay, I gots a place in mind. The livery owner, Barney, owes me a favor,” she said with a wink.
“Think he would be willing to sell me a horse?”
Leaning forward to show more of her cleavage, she chuckled. “Oh, I gots me ways to convince ‘im, ducks.” Then she straightened and sashayed back to the kitchen, humming along the way.
With a chuckle, Lucian lifted his spoon and ate every drop of stew. He popped the last bite of bread into his mouth when the door opened and men filed in. All large men with scowls
and the air of danger about them. Then another man arrived. This one, different. Perhaps thirty years, with blond hair cut in the latest style and wearing expensive clothes, he walked forward and the others parted out of his way.
Emma spun back around, her eyes wide. Whitehall, she mouthed.
Chapter 11
Emma closed her eyes a moment. Whitehall. Was he the man who killed Jonah, who wished Sean dead, and was after her? A warm hand came down on hers, and she looked up. Lucian gave her a meaningful stare. He had a plan. Follow his lead. She gave a slight nod and sat still, watching from her periphery.
Chairs scraped the wooden floor as the men sat at the tables. The rumble of conversation filled the room and Beulah rushed out from the kitchen to take orders and flirt.
Whitehall picked the nearest table and sat with one of the larger, more menacing looking of the men. “Who are we missing?” he asked, drumming his long, tapered fingers against the tabletop.
“Binks and Dempsey,” came the deep, rusty croak.
Emma didn’t dare move. She wished she and Lucian could disappear. If Whitehall discovered who they were, she didn’t know what would happen. He would need to keep her alive to find the map and calculate the coordinates to the gold. But Lucian… She shuddered at the thought.
“When did you last speak to them?” Whitehall asked.
“Two days ago.”
His drumming fingers stilled. “And they were certain they had found them?”
“Aye, boss.”
A long sigh sounded. “Well, obviously, something has gone wrong. Either they were paid off or met with an unfortunate end.” The drumming fingers started again. “Pity. They were the only ones to have any success.”
“We’ll find ‘em.”
Whitehall grunted then snapped his fingers at Beulah. “You, there. I’m parched.”
“I ‘ere ye, ducks.”
Emma lifted her gaze to Lucian. What they were going to do? Whitehall and his men didn’t appear to be leaving anytime soon. Lucian moved his hand; a message to remain still. They would have to wait them out. Of course, getting up and leaving would draw attention to them, but Emma had a difficult time sitting still for any length of time. Already, she itched to squirm in her chair.
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