A Heart So Innocent

by Charlene Cross

  In agitation, he raked his sun-bronzed fingers through his thick dark hair, emitting a low growl as he did so. Damnation! How had he gotten himself into this mess? Stupidity, he conceded, his rapt attention turning away from the slumbering beauty across from him to view the dimming scenery outside his window. He was a fool for caring about what happened to her. She’d made her decision, freely, and she should be made to live with it!

  He remembered a long-ago spring day and a sunlit meadow, which lay on the edge of Warfield Manor, his country estate. The revived image filled his mind with the gentle sway of long grasses mixed with a vivid array of sweet-smelling wildflowers. And the pungency of death, he thought, its graphic memory piercing through him. Had he had a normal boyhood and had that boyhood ended differently, perhaps he could open his heart to a young woman, like Aidan, and realize the so-called joy of love. But in reality, he was immune to the emotion, his jaded heart frozen in time.

  As the miles passed, Justin found no solace in his thoughts, and as the sky darkened, so did his mood.

  Aidan finally stirred from her nap, surprised to see it was dark. A full moon hung in the sky, cloaking the panorama with its silvery light. Gnarled black fingers stretched over the roadway and across the landscape as tree limbs cast their eerie shadows. Stifling a yawn, Aidan turned toward Justin, his face shaded from view. “What time is it?” she asked, sleep still tinting her voice.

  “Nearly midnight.” Her gaze shifted from him. She did not respond, only stared through the window, as usual, and Justin viewed her at length. “You seem rather pensive, Lady Prescott,” he stated after a while. “Might it be you’re having second thoughts?”

  “No,” she snapped untruthfully, violet eyes settling on him anew. “I’m simply anxious to get this over with.”

  “The journey? The marriage ceremony? Or both?”

  “The journey, naturally. I’m anxious to see George.” It was a lie, but she couldn’t very well admit she dreaded seeing her intended. At least, not to Justin Warfield. “How much longer before we reach Scotland?” she asked, trying to ignore his constant taunting manner.

  “Probably another half hour.” In that instant, a moonbeam spotlighted her features, and Justin saw Aidan’s eyes widen; he grinned. “Of course, if you are experiencing a sudden change of heart, I could always have Potts turn us around—”

  “You’ll do no such thing!” she cried, her taut nerves finally shattering. “I … I can’t possibly go back. Not now. Not when—” She swallowed her words and tried to eradicate the vision of the Earl of Sedgewinn, his face suddenly looming up before her eyes, his sharp gaze leering, his vulgar mouth curving into a lascivious grin. “You don’t understand. I simply can’t go back.”

  Justin noted the desperation in her voice. “I suppose you fear your father’s wrath. Or perhaps it’s the thought of seeing the jilted bridegroom you left behind. Who is the miserable fellow, anyway?”

  Abruptly, Aidan’s eyes misted over. While she traced her sudden tears to her emotional distress, she fought to keep them at bay. Then, with enmity punctuating each syllable, she finally said, “The Earl of Sedgewinn.”

  Instantly Justin stiffened. A hard edge set itself along his firm jaw. Had he reserved the least bit of respect for the Duke of Atwood, it now lay dead. “Your father tried to pair you with that whoreson?” he questioned, wanting confirmation.

  “Yes.”

  Justin strained his ears to hear her whispered reply. The word, having pitifully torn itself from her lips, caused a strange lurch in his chest. “By God! Is the man insane!”

  “I’ve caused him too much worry,” she admitted; then her teeth tormented her lower lip as she again stared through the window. “My father wishes to be rid of me. But I couldn’t make myself marry Sedgewinn. He’s … he’s …” She fell silent.

  The smallness of her voice, confessing that she felt unwanted, unloved, produced another jab at his heart. Suddenly an unfamiliar feeling overtook him, and Justin moved across the small space to Aidan’s side. Oddly, he experienced an uncontrollable need to comfort her; his arm slipped lightly around her shoulders. “And that’s why you chose George?” He watched her nod. “Did you think him merely the lesser of two evils?”

  “George isn’t evil,” she quickly defended, gazing up into silver eyes that were amazingly filled with compassion. “He’s nothing like Sedgewinn. George is kind, gentle, courteous … a true gentleman.”

  “But you don’t love him, do you?”

  Had not his tender regard mesmerized her, his gentle tone soothed her, Aidan would have denied his words. But his sudden transformation into a caring protector had caught her off-guard. “No,” she confessed, then quickly added, “but, just the same, I plan to make him a good wife.”

  Justin’s hand rose. Long fingers framed the oval of her face as he gazed deeply into misty violet eyes, eyes that questioned him, lured him. “Little one, you’re willing to give too much.” His gaze shifted to her softly parted lips, their dewy sheen reflected in the moonlight, and his breath caught in his chest. “You can’t marry a man simply because he’s known to be a gentleman. There needs to be some sort of emotion … a magical feeling which passes between you and the one you choose. You could never be happy without it.”

  Fascinated by the mobility of his mouth, she found she was unable to answer immediately. Here, under the cradle of his arm, his gentle fingers lightly caressing her cheek, her heart skipped erratically. Strangely, she felt an unexplained magnetic pull, drawing her ever closer to her guardian. The sensation frightened her, excited her, and she wondered if what she was now experiencing resembled the magical emotion he’d mentioned.

  “Could you be happy, little one?” he asked, his searching gaze running over her face. “The truth.”

  “I … I don’t know,” she whispered, her gaze casting itself downward, away from Justin’s, for his intent regard made her feel rather … odd. “But I have little choice. My father will never forgive me. He’ll marry me off to Sedgewinn the moment I return.” She shuddered distastefully. Noting her reaction, Justin tightened his hand on the crest of her shoulder, easing her closer to him. Aidan made no protest. “I already committed myself to George. I can’t back away now. He’d be deeply hurt.”

  “George will survive,” he said, not caring one way or the other if the man ever recovered from her rejection. At present, it was his ward’s mental anguish, the grief she was suffering over her father’s coldheartedness, that concerned him most. The man’s lack of sensitivity in choosing a suitable mate for her infuriated Justin. If Atwood were within his reach, he’d thrash the man soundly.

  “Then what shall I do?” she inquired, her tone defeated.

  Liquid violet eyes stared up at him while moist lips trembled softly beneath his gaze, and Justin reacted with a force so strong it jolted him. His restraint snapped. All his latent desires, those which he’d purposely held in check from the moment their eyes had first met while he’d strongly denied they even existed, surged through him. Overpowered by his emotions, he was unable to resist her. “Little one,” he whispered huskily as gentle fingers brushed the fine wisps of hair away from her face. “I’ll protect you … keep you safe. You’ll want for nothing. This I promise.”

  With each word, his head slowly lowered, his gaze riveted to her tempting lips. Entranced by their beauty, he wanted to taste their bounty, explore their mysteries, teach them to respond to his own.

  Her heart beating wildly, Aidan thought to stave him off, but she could find no convincing reason to do so. Enthralled, she watched as the masculine curve of his lower lip separated itself from its mate, the pair growing ever closer. Overwhelmed by the riot of emotions that were hammering through her, every nerve in her body set on alert, she moaned softly. Her eyelids fluttered shut. Long lashes rested lightly against the delicate skin above her cheeks as she waited with anticipation.

  Then she felt his first tentative touch as his mouth brushed silkily over hers. A whimper of protest
escaped her when it withdrew. Hearing the wordless entreaty, Justin emitted a groan of longing; his lips captured hers, molding them to his own. Slowly she opened to him, like a rose unfurling in the morning sunlight, and hot fire raced through his veins as she surrendered completely to his mastery.

  Sweetly naive, he thought, refreshed by her untried attempts to please him. Following his lead, her tongue traced his lips, imitating each movement he made; then it chased and played a wild erotic game of passion. Raw desire ripped through him. His breath caught; a shudder racked along his hardened body. This was one virgin he would gladly take to his bed. Yet, he knew, she must be gentled into submission, slowly, expertly, and he realized if he didn’t stop this madness now, he would, undoubtedly, lose control here in the coach.

  With a will of steel, Justin fought down his rampant desires. Placing one last tender kiss on her lips, he withdrew. Gentle fingers smoothed her coppery tresses, stroking her like she were a small kitten. “We must not rush into anything, little one,” he said, his desire still vibrating in the low timbre of his voice. “When we are back in London and I’ve settled you into your own place, there will be time enough to show you what pleases me and to discover what pleases you.”

  Feeling as though she’d fallen into the Thames in the dead of winter, Aidan instantly stiffened. “Pleases?”

  Foolishly Justin ignored the sudden glacial look in her eye. “Yes,” he said, a sportive grin splitting his face. “I’ve never taken a virgin as my mistress before. I—”

  “Mistress”, Aidan screeched, shoving at his chest, trying to dislodge his arm from her shoulder. “You pompous boor!”

  Surprised by the vehemence in her voice, Justin frowned. “What else, little one? I thought you understood. I offered you my protection, not marriage. Wedlock is for fools,” he stated emphatically. His parents’ marriage attested to that!

  Narrowed eyes spewed purple fire as Aidan’s lip curled contemptuously. Whatever had made her think the rogue would condescend to taking her as his bride! And why she would have considered such a ludicrous proposal in the first place, she was unable to say. He was a dangerous scoundrel, a womanizer who lacked scruples. Eugenia had warned her as much. Yet, stupidly, like so many of her gender, she’d found herself falling under his spell.

  Angered that she’d almost become one of his willing victims, Aidan instantly sought revenge. As Justin had predicted, her arm raised to swing in an arc, but quick reflexes allowed him to catch her wrist before her hand connected with his face. “You arrogant ass!” she hissed, venom lacing each word as she struggled to free herself from his grip. “I’d no more lie with you than I would a … a goat!”

  Hard gray eyes assessed her as Justin fought the heated urge to drag her back into his arms and prove her wrong. His lips broke into a cold smile. “You may live to regret your decision, little one. George might be willing to share his name, but he’ll be able to share little else. I, on the other hand, would have given you all your heart could have possibly desired—all, that is, except my name.”

  A murderous glare lit Aidan’s eyes, and she would have pronounced her acidic retort, but the coach suddenly lurched as the horses were whipped into a full gallop. The abrupt motion threw her off-balance, and she swallowed her words.

  “Highwaymen!” Potts yelled from above as he snapped the whip in quick succession, driving the team onward.

  Justin released the fuming Aidan to quickly shift into the opposite seat. His fist hit the coach wall, and a hidden panel sprang free, revealing a set of matched pistols. “Get down,” he ordered as he grabbed one and poured powder down its barrel, then rammed the lead ball home. Aidan obeyed without hesitation and curled herself up like a cat, her cheek hugging the rich leather seat as she held on for dear life.

  The coach pitched wildly as Justin tried to prime the weapon. Fine powder spilled across his hand onto the floor. A vibrant expletive escaped him as he cursed his luck. His grip on the weapon tightened, and the job was completed in short order. The cocked pistol was slipped beneath his sinewy thigh, its barrel pointed toward the door.

  While Justin worked furiously to load the second pistol, thundering hooves drew alongside the careening coach. “Halt!” a masculine voice shouted, but Potts paid him no mind. “Stop, I says,” the man commanded, “or I’ll blow yer bloomin’ head off!”

  The coach swayed crazily, then jolted to a sudden stop, tossing Justin sideways. The cocked pistol slid from the seat and hit the floor. Powder flashed as the weapon exploded. Another curse erupted from Justin’s lips as Aidan simultaneously cried out in fright. Both were drowned out by a screech of pain, while as it sheared through the night air, just beyond the coach window.

  The ball rammed into the second pistol, Justin flipped it around to pour the priming powder. Forthwith, the door flew wide, a bevy of weapons aimed at his head. Assessing the group, several lit torches held high among them, Justin decided there was little chance he could bluff his way out of his predicament. Slowly he lowered his own pistol, setting it aside.

  “Let me at him,” one of the men snarled, fighting his way toward the forefront of the pack. “The coward! He put a hole in me, he did!”

  “Shut up,” the man closest to the door said, his pistol now leveled at Justin’s heart. “Quit yer complainin’. Ye’r only scratched.”

  His senses attuned to every sound, every move, Justin smiled. “You’ve caught me low on funds, gentlemen.” He slipped a gold ring from the little finger on his right hand. The large ruby, surrounded by diamonds, winked in the dim light. “Perhaps this ornament will suffice.” He held it out to the man who appeared to be the group’s leader.

  “We ain’t after yer money or yer jewelry, mister. So keep that bauble on yer pinky.”

  An odd feeling settled over Justin; his eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Then if you aren’t intent on robbery, do you mind explaining why you’ve detained my coach?”

  The man jerked his head. “It’s her we’re after.”

  All eyes turned toward Aidan, who now huddled in her corner. “Me! Why me?”

  “Ye’r the Duke of Atwood’s daughter, ain’t ye?” the man asked, and Aidan quickly turned anxious eyes toward Justin. “Well, yea or nay, girlie?”

  “Sir,” Justin intervened, his gaze scanning the field of men. Not seeing Aidan’s father among them, he edged forward in his seat, his body making a partial barrier between Aidan and the man in the doorway. The man’s lax pistol swung to attention. “There’s no need to be so jittery. I’m unarmed and outnumbered.” Justin’s hand rose slowly, the tip of his finger gently easing the barrel aside. He relaxed when the man allowed it to remain in its new position. “The lady is whom you say,” Justin continued. “You seem like a man who understands the ways of love. Without regard for her health or safety, this young woman’s father plans to force her into a marriage she does not want. The man to whom she is to be betrothed is depraved, perverse—a wife beater. Instead of subjecting herself to such cruelty—a life of unending torture—she travels to Gretna Green with me. Certainly you understand our haste. We are—”

  “In desperate need of a marriage agent, I’d say,” a cold voice interrupted.

  “Father!” Aidan cried incredulously. Her heart tripped wildly as Alastair Prescott stepped into view, his stern gaze first raking over his daughter, then settling on Justin. Disbelief written on her face, she croaked, “How did you—?”

  “In your haste to leave, daughter, you forgot to close the kitchen door behind you,” he answered, his hard gaze riveted to Justin’s. Two sets of narrowed eyes, one blue, one gray, carefully assessed the other, each pair refusing to look away. “You caused quite a stir, Aidan. We’d thought a thief had stolen you away. But Eugenia managed to set our fears to rest.”

  “Eugenia! How? She knew nothing of my plans.”

  Alastair finally turned his attention to his daughter. “She knew enough to set me in the right direction!” he snapped, his gaze shifting back to Justin’s. “Your Grace,�
�� he said on a sarcastic note. “Might I join you inside the coach? The night air grows chilly.”

  Justin’s lips split into a cool smile. “Please accept my invitation to do so, Your Grace.” The lofty form of address was stressed with equal sarcasm as he waved the older man inside. “You must forgive me for not asking you sooner. My excuse being: at the moment, I was given cause to forget my manners. I do hope you’ll understand.”

  Inclining his head, Alastair returned the cool smile. “I do, sir.” When he’d seated himself next to Justin, he turned his attention to the man in the doorway. “Mr. Thompson, please join us, if you will.” The man seemed startled by the invitation; then he turned to hand his weapon to one of his companions. “I’ll have need of your pistol as well,” Alastair stated, and Thompson pulled his girth through the doorway, weapon in hand.

  “Miss,” he said with a nod as he sat next to Aidan. His gaze turned itself on his employer. “There be a problem, Yer Grace? I thought everythin’ were settled—ye all bein’ so civil to one another and the like.”

  Alastair chuckled. “All’s well, Thompson. You’re simply my insurance it stays that way.”

  Upon hearing her father’s words, Aidan suddenly feared some harm might come to Justin. So far, she’d remained virtually silent, first from fear, then from confusion, but she quickly found her voice. “Father, I must explain. The Duke of Westover—”

  “There’s no reason to explain, Aidan,” he said, waving her off. “Everything is quite apparent. His Grace has already admitted the two of you were on your way to Gretna Green. I’m just making certain your elopement proceeds as planned.”

  Aidan breathed easier. But had she seen the contented look in her father’s eye, closely resembling that of a fat cat after it had just ingested a small bird, she’d have realized she’d misinterpreted his words. “Then you know about George?”

  “George?” Alastair questioned, pretending ignorance as a frown marked his brow. “Ah, the best man. Since he’s not here, we’ll have to proceed without him.”