A Heart So Innocent

by Charlene Cross

  He remembered how she had felt in his arms as they’d danced, as they’d ridden high on Apollo’s back, as she’d lain limp and helpless after she’d fainted, as she’d struggled against his hold, fighting him only moments ago. And he remembered how she’d aroused him. Aroused his sympathy, aroused his anger, aroused his desire.

  Incredibly, as he now viewed her, he imagined himself close beside her, his softly spoken phrases and gentle caresses wooing her, seducing her. Their lips would meet, tentatively at first, then shape themselves into an urgent kiss, thirsting tongues mating wildly. And when he’d kissed her senseless, heated love words whispered in her ear, her anxious pleas filling his head in reply, he’d lower her to the seat, remove her clothing and his, and love her as no other man possibly could. Then, when he was certain she was ready, her hips writhing, begging for his pleasures, he’d enter her secret place, easing slowly upward, his mouth covering hers to capture her momentary cry of pain, and fill her completely. Allowing her time to adjust, he’d wrap her silken thighs around his waist, his tender words reassuring her, praising her, seducing her anew. Then, with his hands molding her rounded bottom, he’d show her the rhythmic movement that would eventually bring them boundless ecstasy. And as their exalted cries finally filled the air, his lips would cover hers once more in a deep, loving tribute to the perfection they’d shared.

  Hot desire suddenly racked Justin’s body. His eyes closed and he breathed heavily. Virginal and naively sweet, he thought. And he wanted her. Just once. In a coach. This coach! Now! His heavy lids opened and he gazed longingly at her. “Aidan,” he whispered thickly, “you can’t let him be your first. I won’t let you. Little one, you need a man who knows how to love a woman.” He reached for her. “Aidan? Sweet?”

  The soft sounds of slumber met his ears, and Justin fell back in his seat, his head hitting the coach wall with a thud. Instantly he shook it, clearing away all residue of his fantasy. What in God’s name had he been about to do? To suggest? Sweet Lord! Had he gone mad! He’d never had a virgin. Never wanted one—until now! They were a trap ready to spring, inflicting certain death to his freedom!

  Frowning, he gazed at Aidan’s sleeping form and thought of his mistress. Although their arrangement had been intermittent and unpredictable, the worldly Cynthia gave him satisfaction. His body, at least. But lately she’d begun to press him, subtly hinting at marriage, and he was beginning to think it was time he moved on. After tonight, he might have no other choice!

  Justin’s lips twitched and broke into a wide grin as he envisioned Cynthia’s startled look when his coach, his ducal crest emblazoned across the door, started shaking convulsively. No doubt her shock had quickly turned to indignation, her blue eyes narrowing as an angry flush mottled her fair skin. He could only imagine the curses that would have been heaped upon his head had he not ordered Potts to be off.

  Certain the fiery vindictive blond would not hear him out, he decided that perhaps it was best it had ended like this. Although he’d known it to be inevitable from the start, he never did like severing a relationship. Indeed, this way there would be no messy scenes, no angry accusations and heated rejoinders, no tearful pleading, begging him to stay. Perhaps he should thank his charge for making his life a bit easier. Yet, Justin realized that if Cynthia ever discovered who the mysterious woman in his coach actually was, Aidan Prescott’s life would be made a living hell. He felt an odd sort of protectiveness well up inside him. Then, instantly angered that he’d felt anything at all, he dashed both women from his mind.

  Settling back, Justin folded his arms over his chest and propped his boots on the seat opposite him. In but a few hours, Potts, obeying his master’s previous instructions, would pull into an inn, which was a safe distance from London. In the meantime, Justin planned to get some sleep, but as the miles passed, he found himself endlessly gazing at the young beauty across from him, his eyes never tiring from the sight of her. Finally the coach slowed and he glanced out the window. They’d arrived at their destination. Not wanting to wake her, Justin pushed open the damaged door, lifted her into his arms, and stepped out into the night air.

  Aidan felt herself floating. Muted voices sounded in her ears, but she refused to rouse herself, content to remain in her state of dreams. Strong arms carried her up the stairs, boots scraping along the worn boards, and she pressed her cheek against the solid chest, snuggling closer. She felt herself drifting downward; a soft feather mattress enveloped her. She purred like a tiny kitten and turned onto her side. Deft hands removed her dress, a cover eased up over her shoulders, and a whiff of breath blew out the candle on the stand near her bed. A light tread moved quietly away from her toward the door, and as though she were still a small child, she called through her sleep, “Good night, Papa.”

  Justin turned, his brow arching toward a lock of dark hair. A derisive smile cracked his lips, turning itself inward. At the moment, having just removed her dress and having had to physically restrain himself from removing more, he felt anything but fatherly. A long breath escaped his lips, and he finally answered, “Good night, Aidan. Sleep well, sweet princess.” Then the door closed behind him.

  5

  Lord and Lady Manley rushed down the staircase as another fist-hammering knock rattled the door’s hinges. David, a half-dozen steps ahead of his wife, nodded his assent to the sleepy-eyed butler who hovered near the entry. The man shifted his nightcap to a more stately position atop his balding crown, then slipped the bolt and threw the panel wide.

  “Where is she?” Alastair Prescott bellowed, bursting in the door, his harsh tone causing David to pause momentarily.

  “Where’s who?” the younger man countered, having recovered to descend the few remaining steps.

  “Aidan—where is she?”

  Not liking the foreboding look in the duke’s eye, Eugenia gathered her robe more securely around her slight form and stopped at her husband’s side. “Isn’t she at home?”

  “If she were, young lady, I wouldn’t be here!” the duke snapped with such vehemence that Eugenia cradled closer to David. “Now, where have you hidden her?”

  “I assure you,” David replied, squaring his shoulders, “she’s not with us.”

  Atwood’s gaze raked over the young couple from head to foot. “I’m prepared to search this place from cellar to attic if need be.”

  Incensed by the older man’s suggestion that the couple was lying, David replied heatedly, “And if you attempt to do so, sir, I’ll have you arrested.”

  Observing how the men assessed one another, Eugenia feared they were ready to spring, fists flying. “Your Grace,” she said in a rush, stepping between her husband and the duke, “David has not seen Aidan since the night we escorted her home from the Quincys’ soiree. The last time I saw her was yesterday, when I stopped to inquire about her health. I promise we’ve not had contact with her since.”

  His eyes steady upon Eugenia’s, Alastair searched her face. Realizing she spoke the truth, he sighed as his shoulders slumped in defeat. “Then where could she be?”

  “Perhaps she went for a canter in Hyde Park,” Eugenia offered.

  “Before the crack of dawn?” Alastair countered incredulously.

  “Are you certain she’s missing?” David asked. “Perhaps she’s—”

  “Sir, my entire staff has searched the house from top to bottom, inside and out. There’s not a trace of her. Had not one of the scullery maids risen early and found the kitchen door ajar, I’d still be asleep in my bed and so would you! The maid alerted the butler, who in turn woke me. Thinking a thief had stolen his way in, I went to check on Aidan. Her bed hadn’t been slept in. Penny, her maid, found a case and one of Aidan’s gowns missing, along with several personal items. Penny informed me that one of her own dresses had vanished from the wardrobe in her room. She’d thought it stolen by one of the staff and had planned to report its disappearance today at a more reasonable hour. Upon searching the grounds, one of my men found the old gate that leads out
into the mews open. Now, either she’s been abducted by some blackguard to be held for ransom—which I doubt, for no one in his right mind would stop to pack a case if he were relying on stealth and celerity to snatch my daughter. Or—which I deem more likely—she’s run off!”

  As she listened to the duke’s account, Eugenia’s mind raced. Instantly she connected her missing friend with their discussion over how the two could keep Aidan from the Earl of Sedgewinn’s clutches. “George,” she whispered, not realizing she’d said the man’s name aloud.

  “Who, madam, is George?” the duke inquired.

  Her gaze snapped to Alastair’s face, but she found she was unable to hold his impeaching look. “I… I…”

  “You know something!” he accused, certain it was so. “Now, out with it!”

  David looked from the glowering duke to his wife and noted how her teeth played nervously along her lower lip. “Eugenia, if you do know where Aidan might be, I suggest you tell His Grace.”

  Her uncertain gaze climbed to David’s face. “I … I can’t be positive, but she may have …” Eugenia paused, feeling as though she were betraying her friend. Taking a deep breath, she released it and whispered, “Eloped.”

  “Eloped!” the duke exploded. “Why in God’s name would she do that!”

  “Because,” Eugenia countered, her tone swathed with indignation, “you were going to force her to marry that lecherous Sedgewinn! Had you been less worried about ridding yourself of her and more concerned over your choice of a potential mate, Aidan wouldn’t have felt it necessary to run away!”

  Alastair eyed Eugenia at length. Then, hoping to glean as much information as possible, he asked, “And how do you know so much about my plans for Aidan?”

  “On the day you informed her of her impending marriage, she came to me for solace. She confided that you two had quarreled. To escape her fate, she threatened to place herself in a convent … anything to keep herself from the lecherous hands of the man you’d chosen for her. I suggested she speak with you. But we both know, Your Grace, her words would have fallen on deaf ears, don’t we?” Eugenia accused, anger flashing in her eyes. Never would she have spoken so disrespectfully to Aidan’s father, but she blamed him totally for her friend’s unhappy predicament. “In fact,” she admitted without thought, “I was the one who suggested she elope to Gretna Green with one of her suitors. One who would treat her kindly.”

  “You conspired against me?”

  “I would have conspired against the Queen if it meant saving Aidan from Sedgewinn’s grasp!”

  David’s gaze stopped bouncing between his wife and the duke to finally settle on Atwood. “Eugenia’s right. You’ve no one to blame but yourself. Sedgewinn is the lowest of all life forms. If Aidan has run off with George Edmonds, I can’t blame her. At least she’s chosen a more-sensible route and is marrying a man who adores her—not the wife beater you chose! You’re lucky she didn’t decide to slash her wrists instead!”

  Alastair spun on his heel and started toward the door. “I must stop her.”

  “Why?” Eugenia cried, running after him, catching at his arm. ‘To prevent an out-and-out scandal so you can still palm her off on Sedgewinn?”

  “That arrangement was dissolved last night. You may think me a fool, Eugenia, but I’m not so much the fool as to give the Earl of Sedgewinn the opportunity to abuse my own flesh and blood. When my temper cooled, I realized my mistake and tossed the earl out on his ear. Now, if you’ll forgive me, I must catch my errant offspring before she marries a weakling like Edmonds!”

  Eugenia and David watched as the duke strode from the house, the door banging shut behind him.

  Within the hour, Alastair Prescott had gathered a band of men. Their pockets weighing heavier, they were eager to join his cause. At full gallop, their fresh steeds ate up the miles as the small group headed north toward Gretna Green.

  The sun briefly embraced the range of barren hills, then quickly slipped from view. Fingers of light burst across the azure sky, reaching out like a beacon of hope. Instantly they withdrew as the fiery globe sank further beyond the horizon.

  Inside the coach, Aidan gazed through the window, staring at the bleak scenery. A wall of silence had divided Justin Warfield and herself from the time they’d left the inn. Growing weary of the cool tacitness, she closed her eyes, her thoughts wandering backward over the day’s events.

  When she had awakened this morning to find herself in a strange bed, in a strange room, she had jerked upright. Discovering she’d been undressed, she was at first mortified, then fearful. Instantly she’d wondered if something had transpired between herself and her guardian. Somewhere in the dregs of her mind, she’d vaguely remembered efficient hands removing her gown, a cover being tenderly tucked around her, then quiet footsteps moving toward the door. In her confusion, she’d thought she’d heard him call her “sweet princess.”

  Suddenly frightened that something untoward might have happened to her, she’d frantically searched her memory for a clue which might confirm or deny such a thing. True, she was only partially clothed. But as she’d ruminated over the possibility that Justin had somehow taken advantage of her, Aidan discovered she felt no different than she had the night before. There had been no ghostly sensation of fullness, no lingering soreness which Eugenia had shyly explained a woman experienced after she’d first made love, so Aidan had quickly decided her fears were unfounded. Nothing had happened between the roguish duke and herself. In all likelihood, his endearment had been imagined, as well.

  Irritated with herself for having even thought such a thing, she’d bounced from the bed. After she’d washed and groomed herself, donning the same black dress she’d worn last night, she’d descended to the first floor of the inn to find a stoic Justin, garbed in black like the night before, breakfasting alone. Joining him, she had suffered through a wordless meal of cold porridge, the brooding duke’s company equally as unpalatable as her fare. As soon as she’d swallowed the last bite of the unappealing gruel, her escort had whisked her from the inn, her one piece of luggage being carted to the coach by Potts, and the threesome were off again, heading in a northerly direction.

  The endless succession of miles, stopping only to change horses, which Aidan soon learned Justin had sent ahead the day before so there were no delays in their journey, and which where to be retrieved later by one of his men, had taken their toll on her nerves. Her guardian’s continuous silence and assessing stare had annoyed and angered her. To prevent another round of heated words from erupting between them, she’d elected to ignore him, and her gaze had riveted itself to the changing landscape beyond the open coach window. But once they’d hit the Yorkshire moors, it had taken all the willpower she possessed to keep her eyes bent on the desolate terrain. The tedium, both inside the coach and out, had seemed immeasurable.

  Slowly Aidan’s eyes opened. If only the heather were in bloom, she thought, sighing, her gaze once again affixed to the barren moors. At least then the continuous monotony would have been broken by splendorous splashes of pinkish-purple flowers. Disappointed, she knew it was still too early in the season for its magnificent display. It mattered little, she thought, sighing again, for darkness was nearly upon them.

  “Bored, are we?” The foreign sound of Justin’s voice made Aidan blink; her gaze skittered his way. “You’d best get used to the bleakness,” he continued. “George lives several hours east of here. After tonight, dear lady, so will you.” He noted her surprise. “I take it you weren’t aware George doesn’t reside in London during the season. In fact, he only shows upon occasion, staying with friends just long enough so he won’t wear out his welcome. I’m afraid your round of balls and soirees is about to come to an abrupt halt.”

  Aidan settled an indifferent look upon him. “It matters not.”

  Justin chuckled. “You lie, little one, and we both know it.”

  His roguish grin and knowing gaze rippled through her, leaving her feeling somewhat giddy. The man
was far too handsome for his own good. She knew it—and he knew it, as well. Tearing his gaze from his, Aidan again stared through the window. She refused to answer him. When her inheritance was settled upon her, she and George would have a place of their own in London. A few missed seasons meant nothing to her. But as she tried to reassure herself of that fact, she found herself unconvinced.

  Again the atmosphere froze into silence. Justin’s eyes intent upon her, Aidan thought she would surely come unhinged. But soon the horses’ hooves struck a different cadence, and the coach turned, heading toward the Lake District, growing ever closer to Scotland and to George.

  With that thought, Aidan was overcome by a sudden attack of nerves. Wondering if she could actually go through with her planned marriage, she felt the urgent need to pace, to stretch her legs, extend them into a brisk walk, anything to take her mind from what awaited her. But she was confined inside the coach, and her pride refused to allow her to ask Justin for a brief moment’s pause. Instead, she rested her head against the coach wall, again closing her eyes. Before long, she slept.

  Justin watched her, infuriated by all the emotion she’d managed to evoke within him. His sullen mood, he knew, stemmed from his refusal to state his opinion of her elopement outright. From the moment he’d left her last night, her soft form snuggled deep in her bed, he’d been fighting the virulent urge to go back to her, take hold of her, and shake some sense into her, in hope of persuading her not to marry George. Her exquisite beauty, coupled with her flaming spirit, would be wasted on the colorless man. George, as dull as he was, could never teach her the ways of love. The man would suffocate her. Justin was certain of it.

  Why such knowledge bothered him, he was unable to say. Yet he was in no position to save her from her impending doom. Since she’d taken the step to run off, thereby ruining her reputation, the best he could offer was to set her up as his new mistress. Justin scoffed at the idea, knowing his proposition would be thrown back in his face. Along with the flat of her hand! he thought wryly.