Night Shadow

by Catherine Coulter

  “Lily, you’re sore, and here we’ve—” He moaned, his hands moving down to fill themselves with her soft buttocks. He didn’t give her the chance to come up on him again, but rolled her onto her back, balancing himself above her.

  Her legs came up to clutch his flanks and he rode her hard, harder still, until she was crying and clutching at his hips and kissing him. And this time he’d thought it would be slow and gentle and easy. It was anything but. It was fierce as a raging storm and fast.

  “Lily.”

  She couldn’t move, didn’t want to move. She was enjoying the feel of him, slick with sweat, his body hot and hard and so wonderful she wanted to burrow inside him, become part of him. She sighed. She would touch him, and keep touching him forever. She just hadn’t known, hadn’t realized—

  “Knight? I know that you’ve, well, experienced other ladies before and—”

  He grinned at that but said only, “And?”

  His mouthy Lily was fumbling for words. This was interesting. “Yes?”

  “Well, did they enjoy you as much as I do?”

  “I don’t know. Tell me how much you enjoy me, and I’ll try to give you an answer.”

  He dipped his head down to kiss her pursed lips. “You’re the only lady I want until I cock up my toes and pass to the hereafter. The others are well past. They don’t matter.”

  “I please you, then?”

  “If you pleased me more I should be dead.”

  He sounded positively serious and she giggled.

  “Don’t laugh. It doesn’t help.”

  “Did they become wild like I do?”

  Ah, so that was the crux of it. Could the perfect lady also be perfectly wanton? She was afraid. “No,” he said. “Well, yes, but not in the same way. You are giving and open and loving. Few ladies are so wonderful as you, Lily, as natural as you.” He rolled her onto her side and they lay nose to nose. “You’re mine, Lily,” he said and began kissing her. “Mine forever.”

  Lily slept, those final words of his floating through her mind, pleasing her more than she could have ever imagined. When she awoke it was to more kisses. She smiled and his tongue eased into her mouth. “Knight,” she whispered and held out her arms for him.

  “No, Lily. I have ordered our dinner. We need sustenance. Here is your dressing gown.”

  Mr. Turnsil had provided roast hare, lark pudding, oyster patties, and two vegetables. It was a feast, and Lily took one look at the munificence and fell upon it like a starving woman. Knight watched his wife. His wife. “A trencherwoman of note,” he said as he poured her some excellent bordeaux.

  She swallowed her bite of hare and gave him a wide grin. “A trencherwoman must keep up her strength.”

  “Do you have any idea how utterly beautiful you look right this minute?”

  Lily cocked her head to one side and gave him that crooked smile of hers. “You like ratty hair, do you?”

  “Yes. And I particularly like the way your dressing gown is slipping open over your breasts.”

  That got her attention, and to his immense surprise and amusement, she flushed. “Remarkable, absolutely remarkable. A toast, Lily, if you can resist your hare for a moment.”

  Their glasses clicked together.

  “To tonight.”

  She raised a brow.

  “To breaking a record.”

  She blinked.

  “To reducing myself to an exhausted heap by morning.”

  “Here, here.”

  “Greedy woman,” he said to the lone oyster patty on her plate. “Another toast. May I be plagued my entire life by this one single greedy woman.”

  “Here, here.”

  But Knight wasn’t to break his record that night. He was holding her, calming her breathing, lightly caressing her, when suddenly, without warning, the bow window opened and a familiar voice whispered, “I know ye’re awake, me fine cove.”

  Knight froze.

  “Oh, no, don’t move, me lord. Lookee, Boy, ’e’s still atop the little piece, ’e is. At least we gave ye time to wring out yer rod. Ye’ve plowed the little piece more than yer share, though.”

  “Knight? What—”

  Knight turned quickly and placed his finger over Lily’s mouth. “Hush and don’t move.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “We’ve company.” She turned still as a stone but didn’t move. Knight pulled the covers over them and waited.

  “Close the window, Boy. It’s bloody cold. We need to ’ave a little chat with our friends ’ere. Aye, that’s it. Light the bloody candle. Now, my fine lord, ye’re through with yer little tart. Ye don’t ’ave to cover ’er up, ye know. Boy and I, well, we done seen all she’s got, wot with ye plowing ’er yet again.”

  Lily sucked in her breath. It was the men she’d seen, the ones who’d killed Tris. Fool. She’d forgotten all about the damnable jewels.

  Knight didn’t respond to the taunt. He couldn’t afford to. He and Lily were naked, in bed, and his pistol was in his greatcoat pocket, on the far side of the bedchamber.

  “Gawd, but she’s a beauty, Monk, purtier than I remember. Just lookee at all that ’air she’s got.”

  “I know,” Monk said, “but we got better things to do now, Boy.”

  “I’d hoped I’d sent you to the devil,” Knight said to Monk.

  The big fellow merely grinned as he seated himself quite at his ease at the small table where Knight and Lily had enjoyed their dinner not many hours before. “Ye gave it yer best, milord. Now, ye gives us the baubles and we’ll be on our way again. Boy will leave the little tart alone, all aboveboard. I like ye, ye see. Poor Tris. ’Is own blood cousin in ’is tart’s belly, and ’im not underground for more than three months. No loyalty in this world, no indeed.”

  “She is my wife,” Knight said.

  “Yer what? Well, ye ’ear that, Boy? ’Is fancy lordship ’ere married Tris’s little fancy piece. Well, now, ’tain’t none of our affair. Where’s the baubles?”

  “I’ll tell you if you let my wife go.”

  “Sorry, but we’ll keep yer missus right ’ere. She’ll keep ye in line.”

  “Let her go. She has nothing to do with any of this. Nothing.”

  “No, Knight, I won’t leave you.”

  “Lily, be quiet.”

  She shook her head, straightened a bit so she could see Monk. “Listen to me, both of you. We don’t know where the jewels are. We’ve looked and looked. I’m telling you the truth. Tris never said a word to me, not a single word. I don’t know about the jewels and neither does his lordship.”

  “She’s smooth as old Tris,” Boy said. “Only she’s lots purtier, she is. Look at them titties, Monk. Gawd.”

  Her breasts were covered. She didn’t move. She felt Knight’s hand tighten on her arm. “Please keep quiet. It won’t do any good to plead with them. Please, just do as I tell you.”

  Lily looked at him numbly. She felt curdled with fear. Oh, God, what if they hurt Knight? It would be all her fault. She’d brought these men into his life.

  “She’s not lying to you. We don’t have them,” Knight said. “We can only believe they’re still in Tris’s house in Brussels. We’ve looked everywhere.”

  Boy scratched his ear and said to Monk, “Maybe they’re telling us the truth, Monk. Do ye think that—”

  “Ye don’t know nothing about this world, Boy; ye’re too innocent and trusting. Men is men, and they’re greedy coves when all’s said and done. One look at the sparklers and our fine lordship ’ere would likely sell ’is little tart, er, wife. Out of yer bed, both of ye, and dress yerselves.”

  “No,” Knight said quite calmly. “You will take me into the corridor as a hostage while my wife dresses. You will not watch her, gentlemen.”

  Perhaps it was the command of the soldier of many years, but it worked. Monk scratched his belly. Boy was already moving to the door. “Awright,” Monk said, standing. “Give ’im a dressing gown, Boy, and bring ’im along. As for ye,�
�� Monk said, looking long at Lily, “ye ’ave two minutes, no more, mind ye, else we’re in again to look our fill.”

  Lily nodded, beyond words. She watched Knight, beautifully naked, ease out of the bed, stand straight, and hold out his hand for his dressing gown. She watched until the bedchamber door had closed behind the three of them, then dashed from the bed. She was clothed in a trice.

  She was looking frantically about for a weapon, anything, when the door opened and Monk peered around it, an abstracted look on his face.

  “Pity,” was all he said. “Now, yer turn, yer lordship.”

  “Sit down, Lily,” Knight said, motioning to the chair at the table. He wasn’t about to allow them to take her into the corridor. Where the devil was Turnsil? Where were any other guests? Were they the only ones in the inn? Perhaps Monk had paid old Turnsil to keep his mouth shut and his door closed. What Monk had said was, for the most part, quite true. Greed ruled many men.

  He needed his pistol, and he would have it once he donned his greatcoat. Then he’d look for the right opportunity. He gave Lily a reassuring smile, stripped off the dressing gown, and dressed himself. In a total of ten minutes, the odd quartet was quietly going down the stairs and out of the inn.

  Old Kenny, his driver, would give the alert, Knight thought, when he found them gone in the morning. But what a mess. What would he say? What could he possibly tell anyone?

  It was black as pitch outside. No moon, the stars obscured by low dark clouds. It was colder than it should be, the air heavy with the threat of snow.

  Within five minutes the carriage, now driven by Monk, was bowling along the road. Not toward Brighton, Knight realized, but north and east.

  Boy was seated on the seat opposite them, muffed to his ears in a scruffy wool scarf. He kept a pistol aimed at Lily’s chest. “Just a little trip,” he said after a while. “Me and Monk got this little cottage. ’Ired it, we did, just the way real folks do. Ye’ll come about once we’re there.”

  Neither Lily nor Knight said anything to that bit of news.

  Several hours later, the carriage turned off onto a rutted side road and continued for some ten minutes more before taking another left turn. Knight had no idea where they were. Finally Monk pulled the horses to a halt in front of a small, dilapidated cottage, its one story completely covered with ivy.

  “Nice place, ain’t it?” Boy asked. “Monk saw to us getting it. ’E ’as refined taste, ’as Monk.”

  Knight could only marvel at the man. He was something of a half-wit, something of a cunning animal, and a murderer. Both men were murderers. He couldn’t forget that.

  Monk pulled open the carriage door. “Ye all right, Boy?”

  “Aye, Monk. Nary a bit of trouble from our fancy cove ’ere.”

  The cottage was dark. Knight and Lily waited on the narrow, sagging porch, Boy standing guard over them while Monk went inside to light the candles.

  “Bring ’em in,” Monk shouted.

  The interior of the cottage was as depressing as the exterior. Lily looked at the low-beamed single room, a smoking fire at one end, a curtained-off partition at the other end, hiding, she assumed, a bed and perhaps a table. The kitchen looked rusted and unused.

  “Ye get over there and build us up a fire,” Monk said, waving his stiletto toward Knight. “And ye, me fine little lady, ye can make us all some dinner.”

  Lily didn’t say a word. She walked into the kitchen area and flinched at the grime. “There’s no water,” she said.

  “I’ll fetch ye some. There’s vittles—ye’ll find ’em on that counter. ’Urry up now, we want tea.”

  Lily took off her beautiful cloak and carefully laid it over the back of a chair. From the corner of her eye she saw Knight remove his greatcoat, discreetly removing the pistol with it and hiding it in the folds of material. He would do the right thing at the right time. She had to believe that.

  Lily was frying two thick slabs of beef when she felt a man’s hot breath against the back of her neck. She continued with her task, not moving.

  “Oh, aye, old Tris wanted ye, wanted ye more than anything. We did ye a favor, ’uh? Got rid of ’im and gave ye a rich man. Ye still got the brats? That little one, ’e got me good, right in the shin. That little nipper deserves a pounding.”

  Lily closed her eyes for a moment. Words were nothing. Words didn’t hurt or kill. Suddenly his arms came around her and Monk jerked her back against him.

  “Let her go,” she heard Knight say calmly. “Now, Monk, or I swear I’ll kill you, very slowly and with more pain than you’ve ever imagined.”

  Monk laughed in her ear. He brought up his hand, brushed it across her breasts, then released her and stepped back. “Later, ’uh? Me and Boy knows ye love it—we watched ye sweating with yer ’usband enough. Gawd, it made us both ’ard as tree trunks.”

  Lily served the fried beef and some softly cooked potatoes. She was aware of Monk’s assessing eye on her, but she forced herself to remain calm.

  “I’ve made up me mind,” Monk announced, not waiting to swallow the mouthful of beef before he spoke. “Nothing will move ye, either of ye, at least not logic and persuasive words. So, me fine lordship, me and Boy ’ere will take yer little wife, right in front of ye, iffen ye don’t tell us where ye ’id the sparklers. Ye got that, me fine cove? We’ll spread ’er legs and plow ’er little belly, and ye’ll watch.”

  “Me first, Monk?”

  “Ye ain’t got enough even to tease ’er, Boy. Nay, I’ll plow ’er good, open ’er up, so to speak, then ye can ’ave yer fun. Now, me two pigeons, wot do ye think of that plan?”

  Twenty-one

  Fear ripped through Lily, but she held herself still. Completely still. She wouldn’t show them her fear.

  Stay strong, Knight was urging her silently; don’t break. God, he wished he were close enough to touch her, to take her hand, but he wasn’t. He blustered a few minutes, threatening them, swearing mightily, all in all giving them a marvelous show. Was Lily feeling disgust at his weakness? Did she understand? He simply didn’t know.

  Finally he said, defeated fury lacing his words, “All right, you damned bounders. I’ll tell you where the jewels are. Just keep your hands off my wife. The stones are back at Castle Rosse. Lily and I found them in one of the children’s toys just before we were married. I hid the jewels in the stables. I can’t tell you specifically where, I must show you.”

  “Ah,” Monk said and sat back. “Ye see, Boy,” he continued, giving his friend the benefit of his wisdom, “our fine lordship ’ere jest needed a bit of proper encouragement. ’Uman nature, Boy, ye ’ave to know ’ow to appeal to ’uman nature. Now, in the morning, we’ll go back to Castle Rosse and ’e’ll fetch us Billy’s Baubles all right and no more ’emming about.”

  “But what about ’er?” Boy sounded petulant, like a child who would be deprived of a promised candy.

  “’Old yerself, Boy,” Monk said mildly. “Jest ’old yerself.”

  “I don’t want to ’jest ‘old myself,’ I want to ’old her. Ye saw her titties, Monk. Gawd, they’re lovely and round, and them white legs of ’ers, all open wide, and ’im going into ’er like—”

  “Ye’re too sick to enjoy ’er, Boy,” Monk interrupted and stood to his intimidating height. “Ye’ve got a chill, and I knows that ye can’t deplete yer stock when ye’ve got a chill.” Boy subsided, but he continued to voice his complaints. They only dropped an octave.

  Knight’s belly was cramping. He drew several calming, deep breaths.

  “We’ll leave at first light,” Monk said to Knight. “Ye and yer little piece rest now, iffen ye don’t want to take ’er again. No? Well, then, we’ve got to tie ye up, no sense in ye taking chances with Boy and his pistol. I don’t want Boy to shoot ye.”

  “Like he knifed Tris?”

  “That’s right. That were a mistake, but Boy learned ’is lesson. I coshed ’is ’ead fer that one, I did.”

  In short order Knight’s hands were bound b
ehind his back with rough hemp. He moved closer to the fireplace and leaned against the sharp-hewn stone.

  Monk rose and dusted his hands. “Now, milady, ’tis yer turn. Sit down beside ’is lordship ’ere.”

  He tied Lily’s hands in front of her, not tightly, but with a maze of complicated knots that would have brought compliments from a sailor.

  “Now, Boy, ye watch ’em close for four hours, then wake me up. Stay up, ye ’ear? No snoring. ’Is lordship ain’t a proper clod to be left unattended.”

  The only warmth in the cottage was from the sluggish fire in the fireplace. Knight nodded to Lily and she moved closer to his side. “No fondling ’is lordship now,” Boy said to Lily, a vacuous remark considering the rope around her hands.

  Lily leaned against Knight’s shoulder. “I know,” she said. “I know.” She relaxed trustingly against him.

  Knight said nothing, but he wished he had the confidence in himself that Lily appeared to have. He waited until he heard Monk’s noxious snores. Just Boy now, he thought.

  “Be ready,” he said quietly in Lily’s ear as he kissed her temple.

  There were two pistols: the one in Boy’s hand and the one tucked loosely in the folds of Knight’s greatcoat. Unfortunately, his greatcoat was slung over the back of a chair on the far side of the room. Soon, though, Boy would fall sleep, he was sure of it. Then he would make his move. Slowly, very slowly, he rubbed the ropes about his wrists against a protruding jagged stone on the fireplace.

  “Ye know, Monk didn’t say nothing about me jest touching ’er, now did ’e?”

  Lily stiffened.

  “If you do,” Knight said easily, “I won’t show you where I hid the jewels. Lily doesn’t know, so I’m your only source, and without me, Boy, you won’t get the sparklers. Monk just might cancel out your friendship, eh? He might do more this time than cosh you in the head. He might slide that stiletto of his into your heart.”

  Boy’s eyes narrowed. Knight saw his indecision and prayed. His prayer was answered in a way he couldn’t have anticipated.