The Highwayman and The Lady (Hidden Identity)

by Colleen French

  She hadn't thought of that, but Kincaid had, the bastard. He was obviously set on keeping her with him, though why, she didn't know. Meg dropped her head into her hands. So now what did she do? This man who had been so kind to her was now holding her prisoner. Would her luck with men always run badly?

  Meg heard a chair scrape as it was pulled up beside her. She glanced up. It was Monti.

  "Mrs. Drummond—"

  "Call me Meg. Considering the circumstances, I should think we could be on a first name basis, wouldn't you Monti?"

  He smiled. "Thank you, madame. Meg." He wiped his mouth with a lace handkerchief. "What . . . what I wanted to say is that you really will be safe here. I . . . I'm working on the pardons for you and the captain, but these things take time. Here . . . here at Mother Godwin's, you'll not be discovered."

  "Mother Godwin's?"

  "Mother Godwin's Home for Girls," Kincaid offered from where he stood at the window, sipping his brandy, staring out.

  "You'll be safe here," Monti assured her. "I . . . I checked with my astrologer just last night. The stars are with us."

  Meg glanced at Kincaid. She had heard that some men and women paid close attention to astrology and governed their lives by it, but she'd never known anyone like that. She'd been well isolated from the rest of the world at Rutledge Castle. Of course that was how Philip had wanted it.

  "Captain Scarlet!" An unusually tall woman in a black silk dressing gown appeared in the room. She was a comely woman somewhere in her mid-forties with tousled ebony hair piled on her head, as if she'd just risen. Her face was handsome for a woman her age, though strangely she lacked eyebrows.

  "Mother Godwin." Kincaid turned from the window, smiling in greeting.

  Mother Godwin went to him and threw her arms around his shoulders, kissing him on the lips. Meg straightened up in interest. She couldn't help being just a little jealous. Why was this woman kissing Kincaid?

  "How are you, sweet?" she cooed. "Oddsfish, I feared I'd never see you again but at Tyburn. I thought I'd have to fight the crowd for your remains."

  Kincaid grinned boyishly as she took his empty glass from him and went to refill it. "Come now, Angel, you know me better than that. A few king's soldiers, a wall, a bar or two, could certainly not keep me from your side."

  She laughed, her voice light and airy. "Ah, Scarlet, I've missed you." She returned his glass to him, her fingertips brushing his as the brandy changed hands. Then she turned to Meg. "And this must be the dear Mrs. Drummond Monti spoke of."

  Meg didn't rise from her chair. She was too tired and too confused to know what role she was expected to play here at Mother Godwin's. She nodded cordially. "At your service, Mother Godwin."

  The black-haired woman turned to Kincaid. "Pretty."

  "Unavailable."

  Mother Godwin sighed, apparently disappointed by something. She turned back to Meg. "I know you must be tired and hungry. Could I have a bath drawn for you, Mrs. Drummond?"

  A bath? Meg couldn't resist a smile. Kincaid had managed to have clean water and soap brought into the Press Yard, but there had been no way to bathe in Newgate. "A bath would be heavenly."

  "Let me take you to your room and have my son bring up the heated water." She offered her hand to Meg and Meg rose from her chair. "I'll have him bring a nice raisin porridge and hot chocolate, as well. Something to eat, a bath, and a soft bed and you'll be your beautiful self by evening."

  As Mother Godwin led Meg away, she glanced over her shoulder at Kincaid. As angry as she was with him, she was still uncertain enough with Mother Godwin that she looked to him for reassurance.

  He smiled as if no disagreement had taken place between them. "Go have your bath and I'll join you shortly."

  Feeling a little more self-assured, Meg allowed Mother Godwin to lead her down the hall and up a wide staircase to the second floor. They passed several closed doors as they went down the hall. All was quiet.

  "The girls are still sleeping, but I'm sure you'll have an opportunity to meet them later." Mother Godwin walked along in a pair of expensive black silk mules.

  Meg wondered who the girls were, but she didn't ask.

  Mother Godwin halted and pushed open the last paneled door on the left. "This is the room our captain uses when he stays with us. I hope it's suitable."

  Meg stepped inside. A fire had already been lit in the chamber. Heavy crimson drapes hung on the windows, old, but graceful. The furniture in the room was mismatched and aged, but of excellent quality, good enough to have once rested in the king's chambers. Dominating the room was a massive bed with crimson curtains to match the velvet drapes on the windows. A big brass bathing tub had already been placed at the hearth and towels rested on a warming rack before the crackling fire.

  "I've left a dressing gown on the bed for you. If you give my son Noah your clothing, I'll have it cleaned and returned by the evening's festivities." She stood at the door. "A morning tray will be up directly. Is there anything else I can get you, Mrs. Drummond?"

  Meg stood near the bed, running her fingers over the lace counterpane. She couldn't help wondering if Mother Godwin was expecting her to share this bedchamber with Kincaid. What had Monti told her? Did she think Meg was Kincaid's woman?

  "No." Meg smiled graciously. "It's perfect. Thank you for thinking of a bath. I've desperately wanted one for weeks."

  "Well, enjoy it, and if there's anything you need, just tell Noah. He runs the house around here."

  Mother Godwin made her exit and Meg walked to the window to pull back the crimson drapes to look down at the street below. A moment later the door opened with a bang, startling her.

  A man her own age came through the door carrying a bucket of steaming water in each hand. He had the same blue-black hair as Mother Godwin. It had to be her son Noah.

  "Got yer bath water," the man said, loping toward the tub with an odd gait. "Mother said, hot Noah, so I got it hot." He grinned at her like a child waiting for approval.

  Meg smiled hesitantly. By the way the man spoke, she could tell he was mentally deficient in some way. She watched him pour first one bucket of hot water into the brass tub, and then another. Then he set down the buckets and pulled a square of brown paper from inside his coat. Carefully, he unwrapped it, producing a bar of soap. Even from across the room, Meg could smell the scent of lilacs.

  Gingerly, Noah set the bar of perfumed soap down on the wooden stool beside the tub. " 'Nother two buckets and that'll make," he counted on his fingers, "eight. Eight's what it takes to fill the tub. Always eight."

  Meg walked toward the tub, drawn by the thought of soap and water. "It looks like enough to me." She dragged her fingers through the water. "Warm enough, too. Thank you." She waited for him to pick up the buckets and go, but he just stood there staring at her.

  "You goin' to live here with us now?" he asked after a moment.

  Meg shook her head. Noah had a handsome face, innocent. "No. I . . . I'm just staying a few days and then I'll be going."

  He nodded. "I like you. You got nice hair."

  Self-consciously Meg reached up to smooth her tangled hair. How long had it been since it had been washed? Just thinking about it made her want to scratch. "Thank you."

  "Red. Mother dyed her hair red once, but she said it made her look like a Fleet Street whore." He grinned.

  Meg gave a laugh, taking no offense at his words. She glanced at the tub. She wanted desperately to get in before the water cooled. "Well," she said.

  "Well," he mimicked.

  So he wasn't going to budge on his own. "I think I'll take my bath now." She lifted one of the buckets and handed it to him.

  "You want me to leave?"

  "So I can bathe while the water's still hot."

  He picked up the other bucket. "You don't want me to be scrubbin' yer back?"

  Meg's eyes widened. "No. No, that won't be necessary."

  "Mary Theresa always lets me scrub her back. Sometimes her front. Her and Miss Maria
." Noah was grinning bashfully from ear to ear now. "I like to scrub their fronts."

  Meg walked to the door. "No, thank you," she said firmly, giving the knob a tug. "But I do appreciate the offer." She ushered him out the door and closed it behind him.

  The moment she heard him clomp away down the hall, she began to strip off her clothing, leaving it in a trail behind her. By the time she reached the tub, she was down to her shift. Dropping it to the floor, she climbed naked into the tub, sighing as she sank into the soft, warm water.

  "Ah," she breathed. The water was heavenly. First she washed her hair with the lilac soap, scrubbing away the weeks of oil and dirt. Then she scoured her whole body head to toe, ooing and ahing with pleasure. Meg was just finishing with her toes when she heard the door open behind her. "Yes?" she sank into the tub, covering her bare breasts.

  Noah came loping in, as if he'd been invited, a bucket of water in each hand.

  "What are you doing here?" She crossed her hands over her breasts, protectively.

  Noah poured the first bucket of water into the tub, making no attempt to avert his eyes. "Eight buckets. 'At's what the tub takes. 'At's how Miss Maria and Mary Theresa likes it. That's how Mrs. Drummond likes it."

  Meg could see there was no reasoning with Noah, so she let him pour the second bucket of hot water in. "Thank you. Now go," she said, pointing toward the door as she awkwardly attempted to keep her breasts covered.

  But instead of retreating to the door, he set down the bucket and reached into his coat. "Wait, I gotta show you somethin'. He held up a drawstring money purse. "I been savin' two weeks. I was s'posed to marry Miss Maria come Friday night, but I decided I want to marry you 'stead. Mother says it's up to you."

  Meg's brow furrowed. "I . . . I don't understand."

  He clinked the coins inside the purse. "Marry ye. I save my coin every month and Mother let's me marry one of the girls." He scratched his head. "I like Miss Maria. She's a good marrier. But I like Mary Theresa, too. Sometimes it's hard to choose."

  "Noah. I don't know what you're talking about. Now you'll have to leave. Captain Scarlet will be very angry if he finds you here."

  Noah slid his purse back into his coat looking thoroughly chastised. "You mean you won't marry me, even if I'm quick about it? Miss Maria says I'm quick. Don't give 'er no bother with my little piddle." He broke into a smile again. "Sometimes if business is good, Mary Theresa gives me a free one, but don't tell Mother, because she'll get very angry. No free futters here. No, sir. No, madame."

  Suddenly Meg realized what the young man was talking about. He wanted to buy sex from her, for heaven's sake!

  So was that was what the girls of Mother Godwin's School for Girls did? They were all whores? Was this a whorehouse Kincaid had brought her to?

  Meg tried to remain calm. After all, none of this was this addlepated boy's fault. She just couldn't believe it had taken her this long to figure it all out. Her life at Rutledge truly had been sheltered, hadn't it?

  "Noah, I'm sorry, but I can't marry you," she said firmly.

  He looked so disappointed. "Why not?"

  She stared up at the ceiling in exasperation. "Because . . . because Captain Scarlet wouldn't like it, that's why."

  "You only marry him?" Noah was trying so hard to understand.

  Meg exhaled. A few months ago she would never have been able to deal with this. Now all she wanted to do was get Noah out of there so she could finish her bath. "Yes. Exactly. Now, please go."

  He picked up his buckets. "Well, you let me know if you need anything else."

  "I will."

  Finally she heard the door open and close behind her. She sighed, relaxing into the water.

  A moment later the door opened again.

  "Noah! Get out!"

  "Excuse me? You were expecting another gentleman?"

  It was Kincaid's voice. She relaxed again. She and Kincaid had lived in such close quarters in Newgate that she was no longer shy with her body, or his for that matter.

  She chased the bar of soap along the bottom of the tub. "Noah. He was here wanting to marry me."

  Kincaid laughed, setting something down on the table near the bed. It smelled like breakfast. "Marry you?"

  "That was his word, not mine. He meant . . . you know."

  "Ah, and did you take him up on his offer?"

  Meg turned in the tub. "That isn't funny. Is this the kind of place I think it is? I have a right to know!"

  "I told you, Mother Godwin's—"

  "I know. I know. A School for Girls." She eyed him as he took a seat on the low stool beside the tub. "This is a whorehouse, isn't it?"

  He was smiling at her, that smile of his that made her forget what she was saying. That smile that made it so difficult for her to be angry with him.

  "Sort of."

  She splashed water at him. "Knave! How could you?"

  "I told you, the queen's chambers were full. This was the best Monti could do on short notice."

  "I will not stay in a whorehouse." She lathered her hands and scrubbed her arm viciously. "I will not be propositioned."

  "Not even by me?" He ran his finger along her bare arm. It wasn't so intimate a gesture, yet his mere touch sent sparks of excitement through her.

  "Kincaid."

  He sighed, sitting back to rest his hands on his knees. "I'll get us an apartment of our own as soon as it's safe. New topic of conversation. Why did you run from me?" His voice was gentle, but persuasive. The anger was gone.

  Meg couldn't stand to look at him. She studied the bar of lilac soap in her hands. "I told you I couldn't stay with you. I thought it would be better if I just disappeared."

  "Why can't you stay with me?"

  She let go of the soap and sank back in the tub, closing her eyes, resting her neck on a towel that had been draped for that purpose. "Because I can't."

  "That's not a reason. I love you. That's the reason I want you to stay."

  She didn't know how to respond. No one had used those words with her since she was a child. Her grandmother was the only person who had loved her, and she was gone. "Kincaid." When she opened her eyes, he was staring intently at her.

  "Yes. I'm waiting. Tell me why you can't stay with me. Tell me why you won't let me take care of you."

  "You're a criminal."

  "I'll quit. Soon. I never intended to do this for a lifetime anyway. Next problem."

  She studied his dark eyes, not knowing what else to say. All she could think of right then was kissing him. She rose in the tub. He jumped up to hand her a warm Turkish towel and would have wrapped it around her if she'd let him.

  "We've gone over this time and time again, Kincaid." Securing the towel above her breasts, she reached for another to dry her hair as she stepped out of the tub. "We just go around in circles."

  "We go around in circles, because you won't tell me why you won't stay with me. I don't think it's because you don't care for me. That you're not attracted to me."

  She walked to the bed and presented her back to him. Letting the towel fall, she slipped into the dressing gown Mother Godwin had left for her. When she turned back to face him, tying the sash, he was right there.

  "Meg?"

  She shook her head. "I don't want to talk about this. I just can't stay with you. That's all."

  "God help me, you're beautiful." He reached out with one broad hand to caressed her cheek. "You know I could protect you from whomever you're running from. Your husband—"

  "Not my husband," she said firmly. "I already told you more than once, he's dead."

  "Whomever." He massaged her shoulder.

  Not the Earl of Rutledge, she thought. No one can protect me from a man so brutal. So powerful.

  Meg stood there, trembling inside. It was like this every time Kincaid grew near her. Every time he touched her.

  He took her into his arms and she made no protest. He ran his hand down her arm, over the silk sleeve. "Meg, love, I could make you happy if you'd l
et me try."

  Meg closed her eyes as he brushed his mouth against hers. His offer was so tempting. She wanted so desperately for someone to care for her, love her. "I have to go away from here," she whispered. "If the one who's looking for me finds me, he'll kill me."

  "Then I'll go, too. I'll finish my business here and I'll go. We'll go together, anywhere you want."

  His offer was tempting. Why couldn't they just disappear, the highwayman and the murderess? When his lips brushed hers, she kissed him back. But she didn't want to think about this right now. She didn't want to think of the earl or her husband, or even of her dead son, all she wanted to think about was Kincaid and how he made her feel. He said he loved her and she believed him.

  "Let's not talk about this anymore," she murmured in his ear. She wrapped her arms around his waist. "Let's do this, instead." She lifted up on her toes to press her lips to his.

  "Ah, Meg, you do this to me time and time again." He kissed her full on the mouth with a groan. "And this is how the argument always ends. This is always how you win."

  "Hush and kiss me," she answered. "Kiss me while I'm still here to be kissed."

  Nine

  When Meg kissed Kincaid, she had no intentions of making love with him. All she wanted was to feel him close, to brush her lips against his. But suddenly, now that she was in his arms, she craved more. His dark-eyed gaze swept over her, slowly, languorously, with a heat stronger than his touch. Without words, her thoughts passed from her mind to his. I want you, she whispered silently.

  And I you, he answered.

  Meg knew it made no sense. Kincaid had forced her to come here to Mother Godwin's. He was holding her prisoner. What woman in her right mind would want to make love to her captor?

  What woman in her right mind wouldn't want to make love to a man who had been so kind, so loving? Logically, it made no sense for Meg to become physically involved with Kincaid. But she quickly realized that love had nothing to do with logic.

  "Meg, my sweet Meg," Kincaid whispered in her ear, brushing his fingers against the nape of her neck, beneath her loose, damp hair. Then he closed his open mouth over hers, and she clung to him with an urgency that for days had been lurking just beneath the surface of rational thought.