03 - The Wicked Lady

by Brenda Jernigan

  Taking a deep breath, she glanced around for the final time without regrets. "Thank ye, Father, for giving us a chance," she prayed.

  At least she could get back to the shop before Trevor, and he wouldn't have to know a thing. She hoped Rebecca hadn't pulled her hair out worrying.

  Kristen had everything. It was time to go.

  But when she turned, her smile faded. Standing between her and the door was her stepfather. He hadn't changed at bit. Ned Blume stood an inch taller than herself, but he was much heavier. His big belly hung over his belt and his faded brown coat was wrinkled and dirty. It appeared he hadn't shaved in a weak from the gray stubble on his chin.

  "I knew if I kept looking, I'd find your ungrateful hide!" Ned Blume stood hunched over in the doorway, one hand propped on the door jamb. "And look at ya!" He took a step forward. "All gussied up when the rest of us pour souls are starving."

  Kristen tried to choke down the panic that sprang up in her throat. "Get out of my way."

  "Not on your life, girly." He took two more steps and grabbed her by the shoulder. "Look at ya. Whose pockets ya been pickin' to buy clothes like this, or have ya finally wised up and started selling yaself?"

  " 'Tisn't any of yer business." She shoved him hard, and he stumbled, grabbing at her dress.

  Kristen heard her sleeve tear. She gasped. Ned had ruined the first new dress she'd ever had. He was such a by-blow, she wondered how her mother could have ever loved such a man. Kristen was thankful he wasn't any of her blood.

  "Ya haven't learned a damned thing, girl." He slapped her, and she stumbled backwards, hitting her head on a shelf. "If ya think I'm going to let the likes of ya get away from me again, then girly, you're badly mistaken."

  Kristen slowly got to her feet, feeling a little wobbly from the crack on her head. This couldn't be happening. Not now. Not when she'd been given a chance at something more. She touched her mouth and felt the sticky blood on her fingers. Bracing her head on the wall, she attempted to steady herself from the dizziness spinning in her head, and tried to keep her fragile control.

  Ned's gaze swept the miserable interior of the shack. "Where's my boy?"

  "Safe," she said in a choked voice. "Ye'll never get yer hands on him."

  Ned started advancing on her again, and Kristen backed up, searching for anything to protect herself. He would not hit her again and get away with it!

  "The boy's my flesh and blood, girl, but you, on the other hand--"

  Kristen's fingers brushed against a knife lying on a small wooden table. She gripped the hilt and waited. Her stomach quivered. Silence loomed around them as her breath came in shallow, quick gasps. Kristen realized she was scared. She'd never taken a life before, but he wouldn't touch her again. She'd make sure of that.

  A loud rattling sounded outside the half-open door. Ned turned as a man burst through the doorway.

  "Who the hell are you?" Ned shouted just before his body flew across the room, slamming against the far wall.

  Kristen slumped down in the corner, her legs refusing to hold her up a moment longer. She turned around and saw Trevor reaching down to get her. He pulled her to his side, never saying a word as his gaze quickly scanned her body.

  He pried the knife from her hand, which she'd forgotten she still held, then urged her forward. She stumbled as he moved her toward the door, but Trevor merely tightened his grip on her waist to steady her.

  "That's my girl you're taking with ya!"

  Trevor stopped, looked down at Kristen, and calmly said, "Go to the carriage."

  Kristen gathered the mirror and brush before she hurried out the door.

  After she'd left, Trevor turned to the scum that had the nerve to call himself a father, much less a man. His sanity seemed to be returning now that he knew Kristen was safe. He'd been angry when he'd first arrived at the shop and found that she had left. But when the carriage had stopped a moment ago and he'd heard Kristen's muffled cry, his heart had jumped into his throat and he'd reacted out of instinct. "Kristen is your step-daughter, therefore you have no rights to her."

  "What about me boy?"

  Trevor ignored the question. How could such a sweet child come from such trash? "What name do you go by?"

  "Ned Blume." He stood a little straighter as if he were proud of who he was. and suddenly he got braver, sensing he just might have the upper hand. "What's it to ya?"

  What Trevor wouldn't give to snuff out this miserable excuse, but Ned Blume was the child's father. "I would like for the boy to live with me."

  "I don't rightly think I can allow that, mate." He grinned, showing stained brown teeth. "I love him, ya see. He's me own flesh and blood."

  "I see how well you've taken care of him in the past." Trevor sneered. His hand swept the room, then he looked at the man with disgust. "Name your price."

  Greed sprang to his eyes. "Well now, I'm not too sure--".

  "How about a bag of gold guineas?"

  "I can see ya are a very generous man." Ned grinned, then held out his dirty hand, waiting for payment.

  Trevor placed a small brown pouch in it. "I don't expect to see you again!" He took a step toward the man to make sure he heard every word. "And don't ever touch Kristen or the boy again!"

  After the coward had backed up against the wall, clutching his pouch in front of him, Trevor turned and left.

  Outside the carriage, he nodded to the driver to take his leave, then he entered the carriage. Kristen was in the corner, hugging her sniffling brother next to her.

  "Everything is all right, Hagan." Trevor placed his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Sit with Rebecca, and let me take care of your sister."

  The child did as instructed, then looked at Trevor with trembling lips. "Pa's not going to get us?"

  "No, son." Trevor gave him a reassuring smile. "We're going home."

  Trevor took a handkerchief out of his breast pocket and dabbed the blood off Kristen's mouth. He felt her tremble the moment he touched her, and he wondered how much abuse she had suffered in the past. He'd seen only her brave side up until now.

  He pulled her next to him, and that's when he saw the silver brush and mirror. If that's what she went back for, he could have bought her a dozen of them.

  Now, he held a frightened young woman who really didn't deserve any of this. Something deep within him stirred, and he wasn't sure how to deal with the odd feeling. His pride and his passion were waging such a tug of war, he felt his insides were being wrenched from him.

  Kristen turned her head toward him "I'm sorry," she whispered, but to his surprise there were no tears in her eyes. The emerald jewels stared at him with a dull, haunting gaze that completely tore his heart out of his chest.

  Trevor pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her. "It's all right." e kissed the top of her head and said no more as he took a slow steady breath. He wasn't sure what he felt at the moment. He knew it was a sensation he'd never really experienced before, and that was the reason he couldn't describe such feelings.

  But the one feeling he could identify was relief.

  Relief that Kristen hadn't run away from him.

  Relief that his little thief was safely in his arms.

  Chapter Four

  As they were pulling up in front of the town house, and Kristen sighed with relief. She didn't know how to deal with this gentle version of Trevor she'd just seen.

  She much preferred the demanding man . . . the one she knew how to handle.

  They had just entered the house when he stopped her by gripping her elbow. She turned to look at him quizzically.

  Trevor took a deep breath, then said, "We need to talk in the library."

  She really didn't understand why he wanted to talk to her, but she said nothing as he guided her down the long hallway. She assumed the other Trevor was about to reappear.

  The room they entered was richly furnished with a cherry-wood desk and tall leather chairs. Bookcases stretched to the ceiling against every wall. A wooden lad
der ran on a brass rail, making volumes on the higher shelves easy to reach. She wondered if Trevor had read all the tomes. She'd be happy if she could read just one, but education had never been high on her parents' list. "Common sense will get you by," her mother had told her several times.

  Kristen glanced down at her hands. She still clutched the brush and mirror, the only things she truly owned . . . she didn't even own a simple book, she thought sadly, moving over to one of the chairs she sat down. Trevor remained standing. He placed both hands on the back of a royal-blue couch as he stared at her.

  "I should know better than to trust a bloody Scot," he said with a disgusted sigh.

  Kristen stood. "I'm getting just a wee bit tired of ye callin' me a bloody Scot. 'Tis yerself tae blame for suggesting this arrangement." She shook her finger at him. "What's this bloody thorn ye got in yer side, anyway?"

  "Sit down," he suggested firmly and she decided to comply for now.

  "Ian Johnstone killed my grandfather."

  "What did yer grandfather do to him?" Kristen challenged.

  "Not a thing."

  "Really?" Kristen gave him a doubtful look. "Surely, he did something tae provoke him."

  "They had been business partners for years despite the differences between England and Scotland. There was a huge tract of land between their estates that they both coveted. And to make a very long story short, they quarreled and when it was over my grandfather was dead."

  "Did Johnstone shoot him?"

  Trevor straightened and moved around to sit on the settee. "No, my grandfather's heart failed."

  "Then ye can't blame Ian Johnstone for that. However, none of this has a thing tae do with me, now does it? I wasna even born then." She came to her feet again. "So why would ye be wanting tae marry me at all since ye've got this thorn stuck so deep in yer pompous arse?"

  "Watch your language," he warned as he stood. "We've been through this before. What I want to know is why you left the shop when I gave you strict orders to stay put?"

  Kristen laughed. "Have ye not noticed that I don't take orders very well? Ye need tae get that through yer thick head."

  Trevor took a step toward her. "You'll do well to follow my orders because the consequences could become severe," he warned. "Leaving the shop was a very foolish thing for you to do. You could have been killed in that part of town, dressed as you were."

  " 'Twas not dangerous at all. I know those streets like the back of me hand." She held her hand up to emphasize her point. "But what I dinna expect was for Da tae show up."

  Trevor folded his arms across his chest. "Tell me about him."

  " 'Tisn't much tae say." Her voice seemed cold. Then she pressed her lips together in anger as she added, "He's a good-for-nothing as I'm sure ye've noticed and he was mean tae my mother. I want nothing more tae do with him ever again."

  Trevor's shuttered expression suggested he was holding his emotions in check, and a muscle twitched in his cheek. "You won't have to worry about that, I promise. Did he beat you?"

  "Aye." She nodded. "He did until about eight months ago when I took Hagan and ran away."

  "Why didn't you leave sooner?"

  "And go where?" she asked indignantly. "I had no money. No home. No family. Not everyone lives like ye do."

  "What changed?" Trevor wasn't sure he wanted the answer, but for some reason he had to know. He didn't want to think what horror had prompted her to run. God, had she been selling herself on the street?

  ".'Twasn't what ye think." Kristen answered stiffly as she lifted a brow at him. "I lifted a hefty purse." The corner of her mouth twitched.

  Trevor relaxed with relief. On top of that, he felt a little guilty for thinking the worse. But her past wasn't the issue. What had happened earlier was. "What was so important that you couldn't wait for me to take you back to where you lived?"

  Kristen tried to move past him, but he blocked her with his stiff arm. "I'd rather not say."

  Trevor turned her back around to him and tilted her chin up so he could see her eyes. He seemed to be getting good at reading her thoughts. "I would rather that you did." He stood her in front of him, holding her lightly by the upper arms.

  "I--I don't care a twit what ye'd rather."

  "Kristen!" His grip tightened. "Have I treated you so badly that you can't trust me with a simple answer?"

  "Nay," she said, shrugging him off. He hadn't treated her badly at all. So far he had rescued her and Hagan, fed them, and now clothed them, and she felt guilty. "I--I didn't want ye tae see the filth I lived in before."

  Trevor recognized the pride in her eyes, and something inside him twisted. "Kristen." This time her name was a whisper, a caress, on his lips. He rubbed his thumb across her chin. Her skin felt like silk, and she was so incredibly beautiful he wanted to do more than just touch her. This woman was so unpredictable and unspoiled that she attracted him more than any of the sophisticated, flirtatious women he'd known.

  "Ye getting off the topic," she whispered.

  "I know." His lips brushed hers. "But for some strange reason I like doing this."

  "Aye, ye do." She breathed softly and closed her eyes as he pulled her closer.

  "There is something about you--" Trevor's mouth pressed, feathering kisses across her cheeks, cutting off the rest of his words. Kristen felt so comfortable, so right, in his arms, yet he couldn't explain why. He'd held many women before and then calmly shoved them away when he became disinterested. Why was this small, stubborn woman different from the rest?

  He kissed her again, his touch confident, sure. The kiss exploded into an intoxicating drug. What surprised him most was what an adept student Kristen had become after one lesson. She was remembering very well how to kiss, and instead of him having control of the situation, it began to slip away as he drowned in a sea of pleasure.

  Kristen liked this kissing stuff, and she knew she liked the way Trevor held her. It was amazing how fast he could drain the resistance she should be displaying. Instead, she felt a need and wanting for something else deep inside her. She felt dizzy and opened her mouth to say so, but the words never came out because Trevor seized the opportunity to deepen the kiss. He filled her mouth at the same time his hands slid toward her breasts.

  Kristen's heart pounded against her chest as he robbed her of all the reasons that she shouldn't be in his arms. When he touched her breast, she gave a startled whimper, but he was such an expert, her small protest was soon forgotten and replaced with liquid warmth that spilled over her body, making her feel as if she were on fire.

  A loud knock sounded on the door, and they broke apart quickly as Frederick, the butler, and another gentleman Kristen had never seen entered the room. She quickly moved away from Trevor.

  "Begging your pardon, your grace, but--"

  "Frederick. You can't announce me when I'm already in the room." A tall gentleman with reddish hair and light green eyes commented, grinning at the ruffled butler.

  "Sir, you are entirely improper."

  "Yes, my man, I know." The gentleman patted the butler's shoulder, then turned to face Trevor. "What's this I hear about your taking the plunge?"

  "It's good to see you, too, Rodney," Trevor said wryly and extended his hand to the Marquess of Middleton.

  "That's all you have to say?" The man shook Trevor's extended hand, but his eyes were on Kristen. "And who, pray tell, is this lovely creature hiding behind you? Don't tell me she's the one that has everybody chattering about The Duke of Chatsworth."

  "So word has gotten out, I see."

  "What are people saying about me?" Kristen asked.

  "My God, man." Rodney threw his hands up to his face in mock shock. "She's a Scot!"

  Kristen let her exasperation show. "Does everyone ye know have the same problem with my heritage?"

  Rodney held up a hand in defense. "Not me. But Trevor now, that's an entirely different story."

  "The same thing I've told him," Kristen burst out, "but the mon is extremely hard
headed."

  "Perhaps I should introduce my fiancée before you two start carrying on the conversation without me," Trevor said. "Rodney Norman Brownwell, Marquess of Middleton. I'd like you to meet Kristen Johnstone."

  "Johnstone?" Rodney's eyes widened. He glanced at Trevor before turning back to Kristen. "Lovely lady, you have accomplished the inexplicable." Rodney gave her an exaggerated bow. "You have somehow taken the most notorious rake in all of London out of circulation and seemingly managed to do it overnight."

  Kristen liked this man. At least this one smiled. Something she'd not seen Trevor do a lot. Trevor was far too serious. Rodney had the most unusual auburn hair and light green eyes, and he was very good looking. Nearly as handsome as Trevor.

  "Ye might say we struck a bargain that neither of us could refuse." She smiled at Rodney. "If ye'll excuse me, I need tae go change. I've somehow managed tae tear my dress."

  "By all means. But I do expect a promise to dance with me at the Cranford bash."

  She looked at Trevor before leaving the room. "Are we going?"

  Rodney answered first. "Of course you are."

  After Kristen had taken her leave, Rodney asked Trevor, "I noticed her cheek was red and swollen. Did she have an accident?"

  "You might say that." Trevor looked at his friend. "Where did you hear my good news?"

  "I heard it from my current lady love. She said Lady Eleanor saw you coming into a dress shop. And you know the gossip that woman can spread."

  "Afraid I do. I guess I better write Grandmere so she doesn't hear it from anyone else. I also need for her to start making wedding plans. That should get her out of her bed and on her feet again." Trevor smiled.

  "Until she meets the bride." Rodney raised a brow. "May I ask what possessed you to take a Scot for a bride? Wait a minute--" Rodney held up his hand. "After seeing the lovely creature I know the answer. My God, she is a beauty!" Rodney sat down in one of the wing-back chairs.