There! A fair head rising from the froth! The sun shone from the soaked blond strands, and Aaron breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Elektra strike out for the bank with a strong swimmer’s stroke. But where was Bliss?
The river narrowed here, between high banks, and rushed fast and deep. Up ahead, Aaron spotted a hand flailing from the rapids. Then a dainty booted foot. Bliss was being tossed hem-over-teakettle by the rushing water, unskilled or unable to free herself from the pull of the current!
Aaron clambered over the bucking cart and dived forward into the river. Swimming hard, he reached the last place where he’d spotted the struggling Bliss. The current was fierce and unstable. It was all he could do to remain upright, yet he tried to kick himself higher, the better to see ahead. Where was she?
“There!” came a cry like a bird over the roar of the river. “She’s there!”
Aaron looked up at the bank to see Elektra running alongside, slipping in the muddy grass, pulling herself around saplings, running hard like a boy. She was pointing ahead, her gaze locked on something in front of them both. Aaron struck out, as powerfully as he could, trusting her to direct him.
“Left!” he heard, and pulled hard to the left.
“Faster!” He put his face into the water and pulled mighty strokes from his aching arms and thrashing legs.
“Just there! Just ahead!”
Aaron reached out and felt the drag of waterlogged fabric in his fingers. He twisted it hard into his fist, knowing that he had little time left, and followed it up with his other hand, letting the current pull him and his limp burden along as it would. If he could just reach her head, get her face above the water—
He pulled a dripping blond head from the current and raised it to his shoulder, holding Bliss close as he swept the dripping hair from her face. “Breathe!” he ordered, and she did.
Never had he heard so sweet a sound.
This girl would not die.
He continued to hold Bliss up with one arm about her waist while stroking the other through the water, slowly pulling them to the bank where Elektra still ran, following them in the current’s grasp.
Then Elektra’s strong hands were pulling at her cousin’s shoulders and Aaron dragged himself onto the bank on his knees. The current still dragged at his sodden boots and he had the random, exhausted thought that he hadn’t been truly dry in days.
“She’s breathing! She’s alive!”
Quickly Elektra worked over her cousin. Aaron stayed on the ground next to her, but it was all he could do to draw breath while she turned Bliss on her side to cough up river water while Elektra pounded her on the back. When her cousin was breathing evenly at last, and her blue eyes opened, Aaron watched Elektra sit back on her heels next to him.
Reaction seemed to hit her at last. Her breath caught once, then twice. Then she turned right into his arms.
Her chilled body quivered in his hands. He thought of a bird he’d found once as a boy. The poor creature had flown into one of the great paned windows of the manor, tricked by the diamond clarity of the spotless glass. It had sat, shaken and shocked into stillness in his cupped palms. He’d thought it most horribly wounded after having taken such a blow, until it suddenly spread its wings and beat its way into the air before he could close the tent of his fingers around it.
That was much the way Elektra suddenly shook off his tender hold, pulling back, then pushing herself onto her feet, putting her safely out of his reach.
Did she think I meant to put her in a cage?
The only sign of distress she displayed now was a swift brush of her fingertips across her eyelids … or possibly it was only a brisk brushing of her fallen hair away from her face.
“Well. That was rather unpleasant. Tell me, Mr. Hastings, whyever did you bring that unruly beast?”
So that was how she wished it to be. Fine. He could play along. “Oy!” he protested, every bit the put-upon commoner. “You mean, when you begged me t’come along?”
She pursed her lips and rolled her eyes. “Men!” Then she shook out her heavy wet skirts like a woman momentarily brushing against a rubbish bin, turned on her heel, and sauntered away with her head high.
Aaron watched her go, seeing through her ill-tempered pose at last, seeing the pallor of her skin, and having felt the hummingbird pulse of her fear against his own chest. I think she may just be the bravest person I have ever seen.
Miss Elektra Worthington—fashion plate, Society beauty … warrior.
Who would ever have thought it?
Chapter Nine
Miss Bliss Worthington was also revealed to be possessed of unexpected resilience. Once she regained her breath, she sturdily put her feet beneath her and climbed the riverbank herself.
“I’m perfectly well now, thank you, cousin.” She tied her rescued bonnet snugly beneath her chin once more. “Goodness, it was only a bit of water.”
They were all soaked, down to their squishy shoes. To Elektra’s surprise, Bliss was not at all upset about her gown. “Well, it was quite new,” Bliss confessed. “I hadn’t truly grown fond of it yet.”
It spoke to something rather impressive about this mysterious cousin of hers, that she was upset neither by her own near-drowning nor by loss of material things. Elektra admired her for it.
Blast it.
They gathered up the exhausted pony along with the surprisingly undamaged gig.
“Good Shropshire craftsmanship,” Bliss declared stoutly.
Lard-Arse hadn’t wandered very far. The great long-legged monster had deserted them all in their time of need, of course, and only the temptation of the sweet green grass of the riverbank had kept him in the vicinity.
Or maybe it was the dainty pony mare, who still sneered at the big brute, but now allowed him to walk within a respectable distance.
They picked their way back along the grassy flat at the top of the riverbank, intent on reaching the road once more. Aaron found himself putting shoulder to the cart to help the weary pony roll the conveyance through the muddiest bits.
If he were Lord Aaron today, he might do such a thing, but then the grateful ladies would gaze upon him admiringly and make much of his strength and heroic willingness to exert himself. “Hastings,” however, was lucky to receive a brisk thanks from Elektra and a serene blink from Bliss. To be sure, in less democratic company he might have been berated for his lack of speed!
Aaron leaned his hands on his knees after one particularly sticky patch of mud and breathed hard. Perhaps Hastings did not have the easier road after all.
At last they came into sight of the road, with the bridge visible across a grassy meadow, an area presumably washed clean of trees and brush by floods past. It was a pretty place, the width of a city block, brilliantly in bloom with green, pink, yellow, and the bluest of blue.
“I did not see this on the way here,” Elektra exclaimed.
“It is the rain, cousin,” country girl Bliss explained pedantically. “It tends to bring on the blossoms.”
Elektra did not snap at her cousin for stating the obvious, as Aaron half expected. Instead she simply gazed across the lovely, peaceful meadow with a look of delight upon her face. “Indeed it does,” she breathed.
They all stood in reverent silence for a moment, willing—what with the recent brush with danger and all—to waste time in simple appreciation. A sweet-smelling breeze swept the meadow, setting the grass to rippling and causing the blue flowers to—
Fly?
The air about them began to fill with hundreds—no, thousands!—of brilliant blue butterflies.
“Oh, heavens!” Elektra lifted her hands lightly, as if she longed to take off with them.
Bliss gazed on with obvious pleasure, even as Aaron laughed aloud at the sheer, mad, random beauty of it. On impulse, he ran straight into the cloud, stirring the tall grass with his outstretched hands, releasing more of the lovely creatures to the air.
Bliss laughed with him, and reached for Elektra’
s hand. “Come, cousin!”
Elektra ran through the magical floating wings of blue with Bliss. It was a moment of relief and laughter at the insane splendor, running hand in hand with Bliss through the meadow, just as she had, long ago, when she was a dreamy, playful little girl, racing down the halls of the manor.
A new lightness filled her chest—or perhaps it was an old feeling, one from years past. For the first time in many years, Elektra wondered if perhaps that girl had not disappeared completely, after all.
Mr. Hastings shot her a boyish grin of delight and Elektra smiled back without reservation, without consideration of place. They had all survived, thanks to him. Imagine, a man who was there when she needed him! Impulsively, she reached for his hand and they whirled Bliss about in a celebratory circle until they all collapsed in the tall grass, laughing up at a gray sky filled with blue.
Aaron looked up into the glowingly joyous disheveled features of Elektra—his nemesis, his nightmare, the queen of his deepest personal hell—and thought that he’d never seen anything so beautiful in his life.
I am in so much trouble.
* * *
“Oh, hold still, you evil creature!”
Aaron looked up from where he struggled to secure the pony with the soaked and swollen leather cart harness to see Elektra trying to coax a bit of reasonable behavior from Lard-Arse.
Personally, Aaron didn’t know whether to cook the beast for dinner for his role in causing the accident, or make him a flowered laurel for his speed and bravery. Either way, Lard-Arse had no intention of allowing any more of this nonsense of following commands. Elektra was trying to assist Aaron by cleaning the mud from his wet saddle, but although she didn’t seem to feel any fear of the rangy gelding, she couldn’t keep him from walking away from her as he tried to mow the entire riverbank by himself. Even with a bit in his mouth, he pulled huge ranks of damp grass out by the roots and gulped them down, roots and all, as if he’d not been fed for days.
Aaron felt a bit guilty about that.
“Cousin?” Bliss watched them both. “I find that I have lost my reticule in the river.”
“Pity.” Elektra frowned absently, distracted by the gelding’s behavior. “Was it very dear?”
Bliss shook her head. “Not particularly, for it was new as well. However, I have no more coin for our journey.”
Elektra looked up at that. “Oh, drat.”
Bliss gave a gentle tsk. “Language, cousin.”
Elektra ran a hand through her fallen hair, which had been left to dry in the warm breeze. “I have nothing to hand myself. Lysander left without seeing to the innkeeper, and it took all I had to persuade the man to release our things.”
They both turned to look at Aaron.
He stepped back. “What?”
“We are out of money.”
“That is impossible.”
She gazed at him. “It is entirely possible because it is true.”
“But Miss Bliss is an heiress and you are—” He halted because even though she stood before him as fashionably gowned as a slightly damp duchess and as lovely as a siren, he hadn’t the slightest idea what she was.
“And I am … what?”
There was no mistaking the dangerous spark in her eye. Even the most obtuse man—and he was definitely in the running—would shut up now.
“You are … Miss Bliss is an heiress!”
“Yes. Heiress. Definition: one who will inherit. Meaning she isn’t presently trotting around with her bonnet padded with banknotes.”
“It would ruin the set, anyway,” Bliss interjected placidly. “It is maddening enough to arrange all this hair.”
Elektra nodded. “Men have no idea what we do to look attractive, do they?”
Bliss sighed in agreement. “Remaining at the peak of fashion is a constant career.”
Aaron gazed at Bliss in confusion. “Hair? Weren’t we talking about money?”
Bliss blinked slowly. “Not for ages. Now we are speaking of bonnets.”
Elektra folded her arms and cocked a brow at him in irritation. “Do try to keep up, Mr. Hastings!”
He glared back at her. “Oy! What did I do?”
“Honestly, men! You find it completely impossible to stay on topic!”
“Er…” He cast back through his boggled mind for clues. “Bonnets?”
Her jaw worked. “Money! Of which we are out!”
She was pretty when she was angry, which meant that she was usually pretty. He wondered what she looked like when she was happy. As he dug into every one of his pockets in turn, he wondered if she even knew. He came up with a farthing, two cinnamon candies in a paper twist, and his signet ring, which he had carried for a decade and yet never worn. His cousin had thrust it into his hand as she had bid him a deceptively dry-eyed farewell. Her manner had said Don’t come back but her gift had said Don’t forget who you are. He had carried the ring and done his best to be a man worthy of wearing it.
Of course, the maddening Elektra pounced on the ring at once. “Aha!”
Sourly, Aaron bent to retrieve his last farthing that she had so dismissively knocked from his hand. “Aha, what?”
“We can use this!”
Bliss came closer. “Oh, yes. That will do nicely.”
Aaron looked on in growing alarm. “Oy!” he exclaimed, because that was what Hastings would say. “That’s mine! Hands off!”
Elektra only glanced at him. “Don’t be silly. It can’t be, not really.”
He took a step toward her, his fury hot and sudden. “Hand it back at once!”
She held it behind her with a teasing smirk. “Oh, please spare us the offended-gentleman routine. This is obviously your master’s ring!” She tilted her head. “Did you steal it from his ill and dying hand?”
Instead of horror, she only exhibited a casual curiosity. What manner of female was she? Aaron was even more surprised to see Miss Bliss standing next to the insane Elektra with an identical expression of mild curiosity.
“Oh, is your master dying? That would be awfully inconvenient.”
Elektra turned to her cousin, brow furrowed. “Would it? Why?”
Bliss nodded confidently. “Oh, yes. If Mr. Hastings is not respectably employed by a gentleman, then his accompaniment on our journey would be entirely inappropriate. It would certainly incite comment.”
Elektra touched her lips for a moment, smiling.
Aaron on the other hand was not. “I ain’t givin’ you his lordship’s ring!”
Elektra’s smile drooped and she blinked at him with huge, sad eyes. “If you think that’s best, Mr. Hastings. I’m sure that Bliss and I will not suffer too terribly sleeping out of doors tonight. Although … my clothes are still damp…”
Aaron closed his eyes, but that sweet, achingly sad face lingered behind his lids. She’s a liar and a kidnapper!
She’s a woman who will spend the night on the cold, hard ground!
Aaron nodded stiffly, his eyes still closed tight. “Take it, then!” I am a fool.
He opened his eyes in time to see Elektra smile and clap her hands happily.
“I shall have the innkeeper take it as security. If your master wants it back so much, he can send funds to buy it back!” She smiled brightly. “It’s called pawn. Isn’t that a clever invention?”
How did a lady of standing know anything about pawnbrokers?
“There’s no need to worry, Mr. Hastings,” Bliss told him placidly.
“Indeed.” Elektra lifted a knowing brow. “I shall do the bargaining!”
The two women exchanged arch glances and Aaron was struck by a sudden and powerful family resemblance.
But that was because he now knew what sheer madness looked like on a woman.
Chapter Ten
Of course, Bliss and Elektra were correct. When they arrived at a small but well-appointed inn that evening, the two vixens swept into the place, all fluttering eyelashes and porcelain distress. Had the two of them been sporting th
ose bosoms all this time? Before they had been admirable bosoms, but now they were positively stuffed!
Aaron found himself not only properly housed and fed, but gifted with a couple of pints of rather nice ale while the innkeeper’s gobsmacked son questioned him about his “mistresses.”
Aaron, not one to pass up a shot at a real breakfast, loaded up the poor bloke’s fancies with hints at evil relatives, vengeful lords in pursuit, and even—after his second pint—a tale of near-ruination by a dastardly earl using a servant’s disguise to gain access to the innocent and lovely ladies’ trust.
“Cor!” breathed the young lout, who bore the unfortunately imaginative name of Siegfried. “It’s like a player’s tale, it is!”
Aaron nodded. “All true, every word of it.” He gazed wistfully at the bottom of his pint, but Siegfried was too far gone to notice.
Fresh out of fiction, Aaron meandered his way to his comfortable room in a relaxed haze. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d had an evening out with no responsibilities but to toss back half a gallon of bitter ale and fend off the appreciative glances of Siegfried’s roundly nubile sister, Gilder.
Hastings really had the life.
At the top of the stairs, Aaron blinked slowly twice, recalling that he’d taken a left somewhere while toting luggage earlier that evening. He was as likely to be right as he was wrong, so he turned on his heel and marched smartly, if a bit unevenly, to the end of the hall, put his hand on the latch, and pushed.
Miss Elektra Worthington had an amazing figure.
Aaron stood frozen in shock and sudden, crippling arousal at the sight of Elektra, hair rippling free and golden down her back, wearing nothing but a brief chemise that appeared to be made entirely of morning mist and good intentions, those good intentions rendered powerless by the light of the candle set upon the dressing table behind her.
Aaron’s ale-muddled brain tried to send him a vitally important message—Virgin! Lady! Warning! Warning!—that his pounding heart was trying to drown out with an opposing viewpoint—Luscious! Hungry! Want! Want!
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