Still, she could not shake a feeling of unease. She felt it in her bones.
Turning forward, she urged Brontes to close the gap with Richard. It didn’t take long before she looked back a second time, and her stomach dipped.
The men had narrowed the distance between them just enough for Brenna to realize they were a pair from the inn she’d seen that morning. She recognized the taller man’s soiled green coat.
“That is odd,” she said to herself. “They left before us.” She watched them for another few seconds before a trill of alarm took root and spread through her. Their eyes were focused on her.
“Lord Ashwood. I think we may be in trouble.”
He twisted in the saddle. His gaze darted to her, then past to the men. He cursed low, stopped his horse, and spun around. Brontes, surprised by the change, jumped sideways, almost unseating Brenna.
“Stay behind me,” Richard commanded. He managed to put himself and his gelding between her and the men. As if understanding their stealthy attack had been thwarted, the pair urged their horses forward at a rapid clip.
One man pulled a pistol from his coat and aimed. Brenna gasped. A shot exploded, and Richard jerked sideways. The gelding startled and unseated his rider. Richard hit the ground with a thud and a pained grunt.
Brenna scrambled off Brontes and ran toward him. He had just enough time to get to his feet unaided when the men were upon them.
Whoops followed as the pair circled Brenna and Richard, their raucous calls breaking the quiet, their horses a blur of motion and slashing hooves. Brenna gripped Richard’s uninjured right arm, fearing she’d be trampled.
“What do you want?” Richard ground out, holding his arm. A small patch of blood marked his coat. “We have little coin.”
The men looked at each other, then back at Richard. The taller man grinned. “What luck. It appears we found us a nobleman to rob.”
The other said, “Ye wouldna know it from ’is clothes.”
Trying not to show fear, Brenna scowled. “Leave us be,” she demanded forcefully. All she gained was lecherous grins. “We have nothing you want.”
The tall man tugged his beard and rubbed himself through his trousers. His companion chortled. “I think we’ll take both yer blunt…and yer woman.”
The second man needed no further encouragement. He nudged his horse forward, right at Brenna. She darted sideways, releasing Richard. She cried out when a hand caught her hair and jerked her backward against the attacker’s horse. Richard tried to get to her, but the excited horse spun about, making rescue impossible.
“Release me!” She clawed at his hand, pain tearing through her scalp. She bit back a cry.
“Release me,” he mocked her in a high voice. Her capturer’s laughter ended with a pistol shot. He arched backward, a bloody hole in the center of his chest, freeing her, his eyes startled and wide eyed.
With a strangled grunt, he flopped back off the horse.
Brenna jumped away, though not fast enough to avoid the panicked horse. The beast knocked her down. Her left wrist twisted, sending a sharp pain through her hand. She cried out as the riderless horse bunched up and bolted off down the road.
Through the pain, she saw Richard holding a smoking pistol. His face was hard-set and dangerous. She shivered.
The other man, wielding a knife, looked from his fallen companion, then to Richard, and decided he was outmanned. He jerked his horse about and dashed away in a trail of dust.
Brenna raced to Richard. He lowered the pistol and looked down at his arm. Just above the elbow, a patch of blood grew through his coat sleeve.
“You’re hurt.” She gently touched the place with her good hand and swallowed to fight back a sob. He’d be dead had the bullet hit a handsbreath to the left. The idea was too horrible to imagine. “You need to see a surgeon.”
He shook his head. “It is not deep.” He looked at the dead man. “I should have taken better care to make certain we were not followed. We may have avoided this.”
Brenna shook her head. “We had no reason to suspect we’d be robbed. The road is well traveled.” As if to confirm her words, a coach appeared around the bend and rolled past them, the coachman not even casting a glance in their direction.
Apparently a dead man lying on the edge of the road was not enough reason to slow the speeding coach.
Sighing, Brenna turned back to him. He bent and straightened his arm, then winced. “We must get you patched up,” she said. “Can you ride?”
He looked at her sidelong. “Truly, it is nothing.”
She crossed her arms. “I don’t care if it is nothing more than a burn. You will not help your sister or yourself if you die from an infection.”
Frowning, he met her eyes. She refused to look away. The stubborn man had met his equal.
Finally, he nodded. “We will continue north to see if we can find an inn or a surgeon. Will that please you, Milady?”
Brenna nodded. “A short side trip will not put us too far behind. And your steward will be in Gretna Green to watch for Anne. I’m certain he’ll not fail you, or face your wrath.”
Grumbling under his breath, Richard went to collect Brontes and helped Brenna into the saddle. She whimpered softly and rubbed her hand. He reached for her arm.
“What have you done to yourself?” he asked.
“My wrist. I hurt it when the horse knocked me down.”
He pushed back her sleeve. The wrist was slightly swollen. He probed it gently. She gritted her teeth.
“I do not suspect a break. More likely, it’s sprained.” He eased her sleeve down. “We will find shelter and tend to us both.” He looked at the dead man. “First we need to tend to him.”
A few minutes later, a farmer in a wagon appeared on the road, and Richard waited until the man drew near. He waved the man down. “We were attacked by two men,” he explained. “The other escaped. You would do me a great kindness if you could turn his body over to the nearest constable.” He pulled a handful of coins from his pocket. The farmer nodded and took the payment. Between them, they loaded the dead man into the wagon.
“My thanks,” Richard said.
With the transaction completed, Brenna held the reins in her good hand and watched Richard mount. He’d been correct. The bullet had not slowed him. He was as strong and confident as ever. It would take more than an ill-aimed bullet to break him. The man had strength aplenty.
It seemed like hours before they found an inn. The place was old and squat, and the term “inn” gave it an air of legitimacy it did not deserve. There were few travelers in the great room, and the place smelled little better than a stable.
“I apologize for the accommodations,” Richard said.
“Do not concern yourself over me,” Brenna said, glancing at his sleeve. “I could sleep in a barn.”
Their eyes met and held. His mouth twitched, and he nodded. “Of that, I have no doubt.”
Richard found the innkeeper, and he explained what they needed. The man walked back through an open door. A few minutes later he returned, followed by a maid worn by age and circumstance. She carried cloth strips for bandages and a tin of salve. “The salve will heal anything that ails ye,” she said, and ambled back the way she’d come.
He took a key from the innkeeper and led Brenna up one flight of stairs to their room. The door hung on cracked leather hinges, and Richard both locked the door and pushed a chair up against it, not only for safety but for keeping the door from falling off its hinges.
“I stand a greater risk of catching an infection here than in the saddle,” he said gruffly, shucking off his coat and taking a seat on the bed.
Brenna looked around the dusty space and found a basin of tepid water. It appeared to be fresh. “I agree. Still, it has a roof. Hopefully, our stay will be short.”
Opening the tin, Brenna leaned forward to examine the contents, and the pungent smell burned her eyes. She coughed and quickly replaced the lid. “It smells horrible.”
“I believe you may be correct.” Brenna waited while Richard removed his shirt. The bare flesh took her aback. Though she’d assumed that in spite of his title and wealth, he’d lived a life mired in physical labor, the reality of his hard male form displayed for her viewing pleasure was breath stealing.
The expanse was touched by the sun and marked by angles and planes of rippled muscles.
“Oh, my,” she said, before catching herself. He followed the path of her eyes down to where she stared at his flat stomach. Her cheeks burned.
“You blush like an innocent,” he said softly.
“I am an innocent,” she said, as the burn deepened. She knew her cheeks were bright red.
When he lifted his eyes, there was amusement there. “One would not know it from the way you asked me to compromise you, during our first meeting.”
Brenna grimaced. “I was desperate. Certainly, you will not hold that against me forever.”
Their eyes locked. Brenna’s heartbeat thudded in her ears. She was close enough to touch him, feel his warmth. After the attack and the long ride, the longing to slip into his arms and ask to be held was great. But she knew it was also exceedingly inappropriate.
So she turned her attention to his arm. The wound was red, as the bullet had scraped along the skin to take off a layer of flesh. Richard was correct. It wasn’t serious. The blood had caked in the shirt and stemmed its flow.
“Sadly, you’ll live,” she muttered, and took a piece of cloth to the basin to dampen it. When she returned, she washed the blood away and reached for the salve. He leaned to watch her work, and his breath caressed her face. His mouth was dangerously close—too close.
She silently scolded herself for the scandalous path of her thoughts. Her duty was to help him, not ogle his body and daydream of his kisses.
“Your concern is touching,” he said.
“I have to keep you alive for the wedding.” She handed him the tin to hold and stretched his arm out over her lap. His hand curled over her thigh. She almost leaped out of her skin with the intimate contact. Quickly, she used her good hand to spread the offensive goop on his arm. He didn’t twitch, though his hand tightened on her leg. Tingles spread out from her thigh.
He was dreadfully attractive. She’d have to be dead not to notice. Lud help her!
She bit her lip to hold her concentration and to fight a sigh. He was too close and too deliciously warm. Her eyes lifted, saw his intense gaze on her face, and darted back to his wound. The weight of his stare, beneath a tangle of tousled hair, made her body flush.
“Hand me a cloth strip.” Her voice wavered. She knew if she did not get the wound wrapped quickly and remove his arm from her leg, she’d melt all over him like warm honey. “And another.” Working efficiently, the wound was soon covered.
“Perfect.” She tucked the last end of the cloth under and nodded. “You were an excellent patient.”
He thwarted her attempt to move away by linking her hand with his.
She froze, not knowing his intentions. She stared at his hard mouth. Would he kiss her? She desperately wanted another kiss!
Instead, he took her injured hand and turned it upright. She’d nearly forgotten about her wrist. She felt foolish for thinking he’d steal a kiss.
“It doesn’t hurt.” She tried to flex it and whimpered. “Perhaps it hurts a little bit.”
She peered around his shoulder as he examined the wrist. It was swollen and a funny blue and purple color.
“We’ll wrap it so that it will not bend, and hopefully in a few days, it will recover,” Richard said. He reached for the remaining cloth strips. He laid her hand on his knee and gingerly wrapped the wrist. “Too tight?” he asked.
“Not too,” she replied. The gentleness of his calloused hands surprised her. For a bold man, his touch was feather light.
Taking the moment to examine him up close, she noticed small crinkles around his eyes, probably more from squinting in the sun than laughter. He was the sort who would find society frivolous and the usual amusements tiresome.
His hair looked impossibly soft and fell in disarray over his forehead. His nose was slightly crooked at the base, likely from an old break, and the small scar under his eye added to his rakish appeal. But it was his bright blue, expressive eyes that held her attention and tugged at her heart.
She wanted to kiss him so desperately. She wanted his perfect mouth on hers, his arms tightly around her, the breathless feeling that came from his touch.
“Finished,” he said, low and deep. He rubbed the bandage with his thumb. He held her hand for a moment more before lifting his eyes. Her breath wavered, and her lips parted.
Whether it was the longing in her eyes he saw, or his own need, he drew her closer by her hand until they were almost nose to nose. He hesitated and looked into her eyes. With a groan of surrender, he captured her mouth in a searing kiss.
Chapter Eight
Brenna clasped the smooth skin of his shoulder with her uninjured hand lest he recover his senses and break the kiss. She’d intended to make the most of the moment before guilt resurfaced. She was terribly tired of that unwelcome emotion ruining her kisses.
She moaned low in her throat. The sound came out closer to a purr. She slid against him, an awkward angle, surely, as they were seated side by side. Still, his arm was between her breasts, and his hand had reclaimed her thigh, inches away from her feminine core. It pulsed as if anticipating something Brenna, in her innocence, could not name.
Richard reached up to slide his hand along the side of her face, cupping her cheek as he teased her tongue with his.
Her senses frolicked over the scent of soap from last evening’s bath and a hint of leather and horse. His muscled body arched forward, pushing her back onto the bed. She wasn’t certain exactly how she ended up in the center, only that Richard was kissing her breathless and did not seem eager to end the kiss.
Aroused, he brushed against her with his hard body, and she responded in kind by arching upward, her covered breasts flattening against his bare chest.
Brenna smiled against his mouth. She kissed him with all the need inside her, her body melding with his, her passion released. The kiss went on, his mouth tormenting her, teasing, tasting.
When he tore free, his eyes were troubled. “I cannot.”
Frustrated, she pushed him off her and scrambled from the bed. “I’m taking my own room.” She stomped to the door and reached for the chair. Richard caught her before she could jerk it free of the door handle.
“I cannot let you leave. It’s too dangerous.” He spun her around and pushed her against the wall. She felt the brush of his erection on her thigh. Her hand closed into a fist. Let him suffer from his unsatisfied passion. She was done with him.
“I am tired of guilt and games,” she said, struggling for freedom. She hit him in the shoulder and twisted her body. He tightened his grip. “Unhand me.”
He grabbed for her hand and clasped it tight to keep her from hitting him again. Brenna snarled and locked onto his eyes.
“I should never have come after you.”
“It is too late for regrets,” he countered, and leaned in until their breaths became one.
“I despise you,” Brenna said, through gritted teeth.
His mouth softened into a wry smile. “Lud, you are a troublesome minx.” His eyes drifted down to her lips, and he added roughly, “I am about to lead you to ruin.”
Brenna, with a bold sensuality she did not know she possessed, pressed her breasts to his chest and pushed up to her toes to nip him on his neck. “Ruin me, Richard.”
Richard let loose a curse and slammed his mouth over hers. He grasped her buttocks, jerked her hips forward, and ground his cock against her. “Is this what you want, Milady?”
“Yes,” she breathed
, against his mouth.
Bending, he swung her up into his arms and strode purposefully to the bed. He set her on her feet, unlaced her bodice, and jerked the dress down from neck to feet. The layers of undergarments followed, until she was bare to his view.
There would be no words of love, Brenna knew, no promises. But her skin was on fire. She knew somehow this night would be magical. A man who kissed as he did had the experience to extinguish the raw need inside her.
His hands caressed her, marking her, kneading her pliant skin. She felt him reach for his waistband, and he somehow removed his breeches without breaking the kiss. She knew that the moment he lost focus on her, the seduction would be over.
Though a war clearly raged inside him, she’d gotten her kiss, and his surrender.
Free of his clothing, he pressed her back on the bed. Brenna arched up, her modest yet perfect breasts drawing his attention. His mouth closed over one nipple, and she gasped. He teased the peak before moving to the other.
Seeking intimate knowledge of every part of him, she touched him all over, tempting him with her fingertips. He groaned as she ran her hand down his chest to the curls below his navel. She silently thanked the courtesans and their inappropriate conversations.
“Do not stop,” he urged.
As commanded, Brenna began a slow exploration down his body. He reclaimed her mouth. Every part of her wanted his attention, every inch of her aching for this man.
Brenna kneaded his sculpted buttocks, the firm flesh smooth beneath her fingertips.
She had never touched bare male buttocks before and suspected his were perfect. However, it was the hard erection between them that drew her attention. She knew from the experienced courtesans that men enjoyed being touched down there.
Tentatively, she slid one hand around him to caress along the hard length. Richard groaned again, not from pain but pleasure. He allowed her touch for a moment. Then he eased back, out of reach, and began an exploration of her body. He trailed kisses and caresses over her, tasting her skin as if he were a man starved. Brenna’s moans encouraged each new kiss, each touch.
A Convenient Bride Page 7