The Outcast's Redemption (The Infamous Arrandales)

by Sarah Mallory

  Recalling his brother’s instructions, Wolf crossed the inn yard and out through a narrow gate on the far side, into a back lane. Once he was out of sight of any casual observer he began to run. In the dim light of the rising moon he could just make out a stand of trees a short distance ahead of him. As he approached he heard the faint snuffle of a horse.

  ‘Kennet?’ He spoke softly. ‘Are you there?’

  Two horses emerged from the black shadows of the trees but the figure leading them was not Kennet, it was too tall. The pale moonlight fell on a youth, a stripling dressed in riding clothes and a neat jockey cap. Wolf frowned. There was something familiar about the slender shape, the dainty profile.

  ‘Grace! What the devil—!’

  She cut him off. ‘There is no time to explain. I saw the riding officers approaching the inn. They will be searching here very soon. We must go. There is a horse ferry waiting for us at Woolwich.’

  Something blazed through Wolf. He ignored the reins she was holding out to him and dragged her into his arms.

  * * *

  Grace’s nerves were at full stretch and she was defenceless against the onslaught of his kiss. It was fierce, ruthless and possessive. It promised everything she had dreamed of. Everything she knew she could not have. With a superhuman effort she kept her hands clenched on the reins and resisted the temptation to respond. It was over in an instant. Without a word he threw her up into the saddle and scrambled on to his own horse, wheeling the restive animal towards her.

  ‘Woolwich, you say?’

  She dragged her thoughts back, forcing herself to think. Wolf’s life depended upon her now.

  ‘Yes. Follow me.’

  She headed into the trees. The path was barely discernible, but they reached the other side without mishap and she set her horse at a gallop across the open fields. The trees at their back screened them from the inn and as they crested a ridge she risked a quick glance behind. There were no signs of pursuit so Grace steadied the pace to a canter, avoiding roads and skirting villages until at length they reached a crossroads.

  ‘You appear to know your way around here very well,’ commented Wolf, as she slowed to a walk.

  ‘Your brother supplied Kennet with very good directions, which I have committed to memory.’ She looked around, then pointed north. ‘That way, I think. You see the church tower over there? We head for that and it will bring us to a small dock, well away from the arsenal.’

  ‘There is an arsenal at Woolwich?’ Wolf cursed under his breath. ‘That means the military. It is madness to consider crossing the river at this point.’

  ‘And thus no one will expect it.’

  As she gathered up the reins, ready to ride on, Wolf reached out and caught her arm.

  ‘Go back, Grace. It’s not too late. Let me go on alone, do not involve yourself with me.’

  She shook her head. ‘I am involved, Wolf. There is no going back for me now.’

  Wolf’s head was buzzing with questions as she cantered off along the road, but they must wait. For now all he could do was follow. They took a circuitous route around the town and approached the river through a series of narrow lanes.

  ‘How the devil did my brother find this place?’ he murmured as they rode between two derelict warehouses.

  ‘I believe you are not the only Arrandale with dubious connections.’ Grace reached into her coat and pulled out a pistol, which she held out to him. ‘You should have this. It is loaded, but I am not familiar with firearms.’

  ‘You surprise me,’ said Wolf drily. He checked the weapon and carefully put it in his pocket. ‘There is a light ahead. Could it be our ferryman?’

  ‘It is certainly the signal,’ she said, peering into the darkness.

  ‘It could be a trap,’ he muttered. ‘Stay here in the shadows.’

  She shook her head. ‘We stay together.’

  There was a stubborn note in her voice and he decided not to waste time arguing.

  ‘Very well, but let me go first.’ Wolf touched his heels to the horse’s flanks and led the way towards the swinging light. His eyes darted about and he strained his ears for signs of danger, but there was no one save the ferryman, who silently beckoned them towards the waiting barge.

  It took time and patience to persuade the horses to embark, but at last they were tethered securely and there was nothing for the passengers to do but to sit down out of the way while the crew plied their oars and rowed them across the wide expanse of the river. The night air was chill and they wrapped themselves in the thick cloaks that had been strapped to the saddles. They were far enough from the crew to talk without being overheard, and Grace braced herself for the questions she knew Wolf was burning to ask.

  ‘So why are you here rather than my valet?’

  ‘He can barely ride.’

  ‘What? Why the devil didn’t he say so?’

  ‘He saw it as his duty to follow your brother’s instructions.’

  ‘But to let you take his place,’ Wolf exclaimed wrathfully. ‘Of all the cowardly—’

  ‘Not at all. It was perfectly sensible that I should do so. I learned to ride astride as a child. You must admit I have not held you back.’

  ‘I will admit nothing.’

  He sounded so much like a sulky schoolboy that Grace laughed and was immediately shocked at her reaction. There was nothing amusing about their situation. It was perilous. Wolf’s life was at stake, to say nothing of her reputation. Her amusement argued a most unfeminine lack of sensibility. Not what gentlemen wanted at all, she thought bleakly. Gentlemen liked weak, decorative females whom they could cherish and protect, not practical women with their own opinions. Years running her father’s household had taught Grace to be strong and resourceful, and much as she enjoyed the romances that graced her father’s library shelves she knew she was not suited to be one of those heroines who quailed in the face of adversity and turned to a hero to rescue her from danger. She was a practical female and there was nothing she could do about it. Thankfully, Loftus had not shown any romantic inclinations. Theirs would be a practical marriage and the most she expected from it was that her life would be useful.

  Useful and dull.

  ‘Where is Kennet now?’

  Wolf’s voice brought Grace back to the present.

  ‘He is taking your things to Arrandale.’

  He leaned closer and said menacingly, ‘And just how, madam, did you discover he could not ride?’

  Grace folded her hands in her lap.

  ‘From my maid,’ she said calmly. ‘Kennet was in the habit of talking to her while she waited for me outside the prison each day. She quizzed him today because he was looking so unhappy and he confessed he had not been on a horse more than a dozen times in his life, but he was determined to do his duty. I, however, thought that might wreck everything, so we drove to New Cross and I persuaded him to give up his place to me.’

  ‘No doubt you carry a set of boy’s clothes with you, for just such an eventuality.’

  His sarcasm made her smile.

  ‘We were fortunate that it is market day. Janet purchased them for me.’

  ‘And then Kennet and your maid left you alone to carry out this hare-brained scheme.’

  ‘They were neither of them happy about it, but they could see it was for the best. I wrote a note for my aunt, telling her to send Janet and all my luggage on to the vicarage tomorrow and I will go there directly. No one will know I did not arrive by coach.’

  ‘Unless we are caught.’

  ‘Then we must make sure that does not happen.’

  Her cool response shook a laugh from him. He reached for her hand and raised it to his lips.

  ‘I begin to think you will be wasted as the wife of a magistrate.’

  Grace pulled her hand away. Hi
s words stung her cruelly. Wolf did not want her so why should he mock her for her choice? And if Loftus discovered what she had done she doubted he would marry her. She would live out her days as her father’s housekeeper. The choices were stark and neither of them appealing. The future stretched ahead of her, as dark and depressing as the river flowing silently around them.

  Wolf rose. ‘We are nearing the bank. Let us get to the horses.’

  * * *

  They disembarked into an eerie, midnight world. Not a light showed in any of the buildings as they cantered through the deserted streets, heading northwards and guided by the stars. Grace had been warned that the land was marshy on this side of the river and they would need to keep to the roads, but eventually they left the flat plains behind and found themselves hedged about by woodland. Grace hesitated, not sure of her direction.

  ‘I had friends in this area as a boy,’ said Wolf. ‘We can ride cross-country and pick up the Newmarket road at Epping. I know the way.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Grace yawned and rubbed a hand across her eyes.

  ‘You are exhausted. We must find somewhere to rest.’ She tried to protest, but he cut her short, saying brutally, ‘You are no good to me if you are too fatigued to ride hard. If my memory serves we shall soon reach the Colchester road. Let us cross that and we will find somewhere in the forest to sleep.’

  Grace nodded, too tired to speak. They set off again. It took all her concentration to follow Wolf and keep her horse from stumbling on the uneven ground. Clouds scudded across the sky, hiding the moon and plunging them into an even darker night. Wolf rode without pause and Grace marvelled at his ability to find his way unerringly along the most twisting lane, heading ever northwards. They crossed a broad highway and plunged again into thick forest. Grace was nearly dropping with fatigue by the time they reached a small clearing and Wolf announced they would stop for the night.

  Grace wrapped herself in her cloak and sank down against a convenient tree, apologising that she had not thought to include any food for their journey.

  ‘No matter.’ Wolf dropped down beside her. ‘We will be in Arrandale in time for breakfast.’

  The silence settled comfortably around them. An owl hooted softly in the distance and Grace instinctively moved closer to Wolf, who put his arm about her.

  ‘Do not tell me you are afraid of the dark,’ he teased her gently.

  She chuckled. ‘Not at all. You are softer to lean against than a tree trunk.’

  Her head had fallen to his shoulder. It was so comfortable resting against him, breathing in the faint but unmistakable masculine scent. She must sleep now, but perhaps, when she woke, she might turn her face up to his for another kiss. A delicious sense of anticipation filled her at the thought. She put her hand against his chest and snuggled closer.

  ‘Excuse me, I must check the horses.’

  He eased himself away and Grace bit back a little mewl of disappointment. Hot tears pressed against the back of her eyes. She felt bereft, in need of comfort. Wolf was talking softly to the horses and she hoped he would come back to her soon. She felt safe when he was near, even though she knew she should not feel safe at all, especially when she was consumed by such a yearning to have him make love to her.

  The memory of his kisses made her body hot then cold, as if a huge hand was squeezing her insides and turning them to water. She thought of what could happen here, in this sheltered glade. Helping her father in the parish, she knew the dangers of being too free with a man, but somehow that was of no consequence now. She wanted Wolf to lie with her and satisfy the aching longing that gnawed at her.

  She would be ruined, of course. And there could be no question of marrying Loftus, but that seemed unimportant. She had always known she did not love Loftus, to cry off would hurt his pride, but not his heart. But what of her professed love for Henry? She had always believed she could never love anyone else but now she knew she loved Wolf Arrandale, and although nothing could come of it, she wanted to give herself to him, to feel the comfort of his arms, his body. Just once. Was that disloyal to Henry? It was strange that she should face this question now, when her mind and body were so tired, but perhaps that was why she could think of it, while her mind was clear of all the other obstacles.

  Henry was dead. She had loved him, part of her would always love him, but Wolf had shown her that she could love again. What would Henry say to that, if he knew? She yawned and felt herself slipping further into sleep even as her imagination discussed it with him.

  * * *

  Wolf stood by his horse, smoothing the velvet nose and breathing deeply to fight down the desire that raged through his body. He had needed to get away from Grace and the almost unbearable temptation of having her in his arms, her body pressed so comfortably against his. She was a parson’s daughter, a virgin. She had risked everything to help him and he would not repay her by seducing her.

  Why not? whispered the devil on his shoulder. She wants you, she was almost giving herself to you.

  He closed his eyes. She was a lady. He knew she would not be able to enjoy a brief liaison and then walk away without being hurt.

  You could marry her.

  No.

  Even if by some miracle he could prove his innocence, the stains of his past life could not be eradicated. She was too good for him, he could never make her happy.

  You do not know that.

  The devil would not be silenced.

  Put it to her. Lay your heart and hand before her and let her decide. She is a woman and capable of making her own choices.

  He stilled.

  ‘I could do that,’ he murmured as the horse snuffled softly and pushed against his hand. For the first time he saw a glimmer of hope.

  She believes I am innocent. She has risked everything to help me. Perhaps, after all, she might care enough to marry me.

  He straightened his shoulders. It would be her choice. He would move heaven and earth to prove his innocence and make her mistress of Arrandale, but if not, if he failed, they could live abroad, content with each other’s company.

  If she truly loved him.

  She certainly did not love her fiancé and Wolf decided if Grace was going to throw herself away on a man it should be him. He would love her as she should be loved. He would worship her.

  Wolf’s spirits rose higher than they had done for a long time as he walked back to Grace. In the darkness he could just make out her soft shape, wrapped in the cloak. Silently he lay down beside her and rested his hand on the swell of her hip, felt the dip where it fell away to the dainty waist and his blood heated again. He would wait for the parson to marry them, if she wished it, but if she wanted him now... He closed his eyes. It must be her choice.

  ‘Grace, love.’

  She stirred. ‘You understand, do you not, my dear? Oh, Henry.’

  The words were soft as a sigh but there was no mistaking them, or the name she spoke so tenderly.

  * * *

  Wolf rolled away. Disappointment, bitter as gall, flooded through him. Stifling a groan, he turned to look at her. In the darkness her face was no more than a pale blur, but in his mind it was clear. He knew every detail of it, the straight little nose, the determined mouth and those dark lashes that now fanned out over her ivory cheek.

  ‘Oh, Grace.’ Wolf dropped a kiss lightly on her sleeping head. ‘That puts you out of my reach more surely than an ocean. I cannot compete with a dead man.’

  Chapter Eleven

  Grace awoke with a delicious sense of wellbeing, but as full wakefulness returned she realised she was lying on the ground, warm enough in her thick cloak, but very much alone. It had all been a dream, then, lying in Wolf’s arms, feeling safe and secure and with the promise of delights to come, once they were both rested. She struggled to sit up, rubbing her eyes. It was early, the fir
st grey fingers of dawn were creeping through the trees but everything was still and quiet. Not even the birds were singing yet.

  She looked around and saw Wolf standing by the horses, strapping his cloak to the saddle. Somewhere in her foolish, naïve imagination she had expected to wake and find him lying beside her, that he would roll over and make love to her here in this forest glade. What a romantic notion for such a practical person!

  A sigh escaped her and Wolf turned. The closed look in his face sent the rest of her happy thoughts crumbling to dust.

  ‘It is time we were moving.’

  ‘Of course.’ Grace scrambled to her feet and shook her cloak to shed the twigs and dead leaves that clung to the wool. The man was flying for his life. He had no time for dalliance, least of all with a woman who meant nothing to him. She should be grateful.

  ‘Shall I pack up your cloak?’

  ‘No.’ She threw it back around her shoulders. The excitement of the adventure had gone, she felt exposed and rather foolish in her boy’s clothes. ‘I am cold.’

  ‘The ride will soon warm you up.’

  Silently Grace climbed into the saddle. It would take more than exercise to remove the ice in her heart.

  * * *

  Three hours hard riding brought them to the outskirts of Arrandale. They cut into the woods that bounded the park, where there was less likelihood of being seen than if they followed the road.

  ‘You should go straight to the Hall,’ Grace suggested. ‘I will leave the horse at the stile and you can send someone to collect him.

  ‘No, I will escort you.’

  * * *

  Wolf did not look at her. He did not want to see the pain in those lustrous eyes. Last night they had been so close, so companionable and he had almost succumbed to the temptation to make her his. Thank heaven he had moved away when he did. She still loved her precious curate, and although he might have made her forget the fellow for a time, in the days ahead she would measure Wolf against her saint and find him wanting.