by Meara Platt
One down.
Ian grabbed the fallen knife and then turned to the second man in time to see Prometheus rear in panic and land both front hooves hard on the man’s chest. He heard the sharp crack of bone and then the man’s sharp gasp. Crumpets! as Dillie would say. That had to hurt.
He was about to rescue the undeserving wretch from Prometheus’ hooves when another two men suddenly appeared. These men had pistols drawn. Ian dove behind a bale of hay as one got off his shot. He heard it whizz past his ear. Too close. The bullet narrowly missed his head. But now Ian realized he was pinned between two bales of hay and had no way out.
The other blackguard stepped in front of him and raised his pistol. Ian knew there was no chance he’d miss. Dillie, I’m sorry. I won’t be there for you.
The shot rang out and somehow struck an overhead rafter instead of him. He heard a dull thud, and then the man fell atop him unconscious. “What the—”
He shoved the motionless body off him and scrambled to his feet in time to see Dillie swing an iron shovel hard at the knees of the last man left standing. That blackguard howled and crumpled to the ground. “My knee! You bitch! I’ll get you for this!”
She raised the shovel to swing it again, but Ian grabbed it from her hand before she accidentally struck him—or Mr. Gwynne and the sturdy helpers who’d just come running in to save him. He no longer needed saving, of course. Dillie had managed to complete the job, just as she had the last time he’d been attacked on Chipping Way.
“Lord love me! Mrs. Gwynne suspected these knaves were up to no good! I ought to have listened,” Mr. Gwynne said, shaking his head at the bodies littering the stable. “What a mess! And they coshed young Harry over the head pretty good, but he’ll be all right. That boy has a thick skull.” He ordered his men to tie up the assailants, sent one off to summon the magistrate, and then grinned at Dillie in obvious admiration. “Good thing ye alerted us, though ye don’t seem to have needed our help.” He turned to Ian. “Yer Grace, are ye injured?”
Ian shook his head and let out a soft laugh. “No. I’m well, thanks to my valiant defender.” His smile faded a little as he studied Dillie. She had on her stained gown and her equally stained cloak, and she wore one boot. At the moment she was leaning against him, looking quite uncomfortable as she tried to keep her injured, unshod foot in the air. She was covered in a sleety snow that clung to her hair and cloak. “Bloody hell,” he said quietly. “You might have been killed. Are you all right?”
She nodded and leaned closer. “About our earlier conversation,” she said in a whisper, “I have something I need to say to you… concerning Elsie.”
Bloody hell again.
“Dillie, can’t it wait?” This was hardly the time or place for the discussion. He wanted to question those men first and have his suspicions confirmed. No doubt his family had sent them and they had been following him since London.
“No, it can’t.” She had that stubborn, Dillie look of determination on her face, completely ignoring that he had almost been killed. That she could have been killed. Apparently, facing death was no more daunting for her than a stroll in the park. Lord, he didn’t stand a chance. Napoleon’s armies would have surrendered to her if faced with that stubborn look.
Ass, she just saved your life again.
He owed it to her to listen to whatever she had to say. Obviously, finding Elsie unlaced beside him had distressed her more than facing death at the hands of these fierce assailants.
He carried Dillie off to the side where several bales of hay were neatly piled and set her down on one of the bales. He hoped the small, makeshift wall of hay would lend them some privacy, for he expected her to unleash some stunning blows. He’d take whatever she wished to dish out. He owed her that much and more.
“Go on, tell me what’s on your mind.” He folded his arms as he stood beside her, waiting for the barrage of angry accusations. However, he kept his gaze on Mr. Gwynne and his staff as they worked, for he needed to be sure the blackguards were securely bound and unable to cause more harm. Only then would he carry Dillie back to the inn, before she did more damage to her injured foot.
She tugged on his jacket. “You have to look at me.”
He sighed, knowing he ought to face his punishment like a man. “Very well.” Reluctantly, he gave her his full attention.
She squared her slight shoulders and cast him a hesitant smile. “I’m so sorry, Ian. Can you ever forgive me?”
“What?” He shook his head, certain he’d heard wrong. Where were the insults and accusations?
“I owe you an apology and I hope you’ll accept it.” She placed her small hand on his arm. “I’m not very good at this courtship thing. I don’t suppose anyone would consider this a proper courtship anyway. We seem to leap from one scandal to another, from one adventure to another. A little too adventurous for my tastes, by the way.”
He let out a soft, groaning laugh. “For me, too.”
“What I’m trying to say, perhaps ineptly, is that you’ve never given me reason to doubt your honor. I’m truly sorry that I ever did.”
“Dillie, you don’t owe me—”
“But I do,” she insisted. “Elsie caught me by surprise, I will admit. Seeing you with her brought all my fears rushing to the fore.”
She glanced at the bales of hay piled up around them. “Won’t you sit down next to me? I’m getting a crick in my neck looking up at you.”
“As you wish.” He settled beside her, trying not to respond to the softness of her body against his, or the sweetness of her smile. She had his head spinning. He’d expected an argument, at best a heated conversation. But she was apologizing to him. Was he dreaming? “Daffy—”
“You’re still angry with me. You called me Daffy.”
“I’m not at all. I’m grateful to you for saving my life. A second time, no less. I’m surprised, but grateful, for your apology. I didn’t expect it. I didn’t expect you in my life.” The stable smelled of wet horse manure, wet hay, and wet chicken feathers. The place was damn cold, too. Yet it felt like paradise now that she was here beside him. He called her Daffy whenever he felt the urge to call her something far more dear, such as “my darling.” My love.
She had found her way so deeply into his heart that she was firmly etched in there. Forever. The depth of his feelings for this snip of a girl frightened him. A little unsettled, he rose again and propped his foot on the bale of hay where she sat. He leaned toward her, wanting to kiss her. Wanting to do so much more, but that would have to wait until he got her back into bed. “You turn me upside down and inside out.”
She grinned. “That’s progress, I think. Just try to see it from my position.” Then her grin faded a little and she shook her head. “You’re wonderful and perfect. Too wonderful and perfect. At times, you overwhelm me. I don’t know what I have to offer you. I’m still not sure why you’d want to chain yourself to me for the rest of your life. You’re a duke. You can do anything you wish. You can have any woman you desire.”
“And you thought I wanted Elsie?”
“In that instant. I allowed doubts about myself to cloud my reason. I have four brilliant and talented sisters, but I don’t have any particular brilliance or talents. My musical abilities are passable at best. I had an uninspired debut season, save for you landing in my bed at the very end of it. In short, I’m quite unremarkable. That’s what scares me the most. I want a man who will love me, but what do I have to offer a man to make him love me?”
Ian gaped at her in surprise. Did she truly not realize how wonderful she was? “You’re jesting, right?”
She frowned. “Seeing you with Elsie left me reeling. I didn’t know what to do, so I tried to think of how Lily would solve a particularly thorny problem. She always made lists. I began to make a list of your good attributes and your bad, only I couldn’t come up with any bad ones. As I said, you’re perfect.”
He shook his head and laughed. “Good to know.” He’d never had this sort
of conversation with any members of his family, or any of his mistresses. His family simply hated him. His mistresses only wanted expensive gifts. Past mistresses. He no longer had any. Dillie was all he could handle at the moment.
Not just for the moment.
She was his forever girl.
“Well, that’s all I wished to say.” She gazed longingly toward the door and sighed. “I wish this horrid weather would end. My foot’s not only swollen, but half frozen.”
He reached for her hands and held them in his palms. “Your hands are cold, too. I had better get you back to the inn. Come on, Daffy. Put your arms around my neck. Let’s get you warmed up.”
“Why are you still calling me Daffy?” She continued to stare at him, her lips adorably pursed and aching to be kissed. So he did kiss them, but only a short, sweet kiss. He doubted he could hold back if it were to last longer.
She repeated her question. “Why?”
“Because you still have me off my stride.” He never thought he would ever feel this way about anyone. In truth, he never thought he would ever feel again. He’d watched his friends fall in love with the other Farthingale sisters, had seen them turn into besotted dolts, and been so certain the same would never happen to him.
In all his life, he had never expected to follow suit. But he had. Dillie overwhelmed his senses. Dillie overwhelmed his heart. “You’re brave, smart, and beautiful. Kind. Gentle. Yet, at the same time, fierce. There’s no one in the world like you.”
She rolled her eyes and laughed. “Other than my identical twin sister!”
But I love you.
Bloody hell.
He loved Dillie.
CHAPTER 15
THE WIND was still howling and rain still pelted them when Ian finally carried Dillie from the stable to their shared quarters. Dillie snuggled against him, rather liking this mode of transportation and thinking that she ought to have sprained her ankle a lot sooner, perhaps the night Charles Ealing had made those untoward advances and Ian had come to her rescue. Ooh, Ian. Take me into your manly arms. Ooh, ooh, I’m so helpless!
Too bad she hadn’t thought of it back then. Well, she was enjoying the warmth and strength of his arms now. If only they could stay like this forever, except without the cold and rain. Except that she ought to be wearing a nicer gown. Ugh! She was going to burn these wretched clothes as soon as she reached Coniston.
She chided herself for allowing her thoughts to drift along this nonsensical path instead of concentrating on Ian. The attack in the stable had affected him quite profoundly. She could feel the thunderous pounding of his heart against her own chest. Ian’s heart never thundered or pounded. He was always in complete control.
Obviously, not now.
He hadn’t carried her back to the inn immediately after she’d apologized to him, although he had intended to do it. But Dillie knew he would have dropped her in bed and hurried back to the stable to question the scoundrels Mr. Gwynne and his men now had securely bound, so she’d insisted on remaining with him in the stable until he’d completed his inquiries.
In truth, she was itching with curiosity and eager to know what those scoundrels had confessed. For this reason, she had been more than willing to sit in wait on the cold, wet hay. To her dismay, Ian had been just as eager to keep the questions and responses to himself. He’d purposely kept her out of earshot, sticking her as far away from him as possible, forcing her to sit on one of those prickly bales while he’d interrogated the culprits.
Her time had been completely wasted.
How could one snoop from that distance? One simply couldn’t. No matter how hard one tried. It was quite disappointing. She’d just saved his life, hadn’t she? How was she to protect him if he kept her ignorant of the dangers?
As they reached the inn and Ian carried her inside, she tugged on his ear to gain his attention. His jaw was still tightly clenched and his thoughts seemed far away. In a dark place, which concerned her. “Will you tell me what you learned from those vile men?” There had been a dangerous look in his eyes when he’d returned to her side after questioning them, and that look was still there. Haunted. Pained. Angry.
Wordlessly, he carried her up the stairs to their room. He closed the door but did not latch it, which meant he wasn’t going to have his wicked way with her. She stifled her disappointment, but knew that Ian was hurting terribly. Perhaps he didn’t trust himself in this state and feared doing something that would harm her.
She had to soothe him, but how? What could she say or do when she didn’t know what was wrong and could only guess at what he’d learned from those scoundrels?
He set her down carefully on the chair beside the hearth and propped her foot on the pillowed stool, but instead of moving away, he knelt beside her and took her cold hands between his palms to rub them lightly. “I’ll be leaving you for a little while—”
“You’re going to leave me? Why?” She wanted to leap out of her chair, but Ian put his hands on her shoulders and pressed her down gently.
“Sit still.” He kissed her affectionately on the nose. “I won’t be gone long. I promise.”
“Is it because of those men? The magistrate will be here soon to take them off your hands. What did they tell you?” She held her breath, hoping he’d confide in her. She was to be his wife, after all.
He shrugged. “It isn’t important.”
“Or rather, so important and so distressing that you can’t bear to speak of it.” She sighed. “Ian, let me help you. Won’t you please talk to me? It breaks my heart to see you aching so badly.”
“I’m not aching.”
She rolled her eyes. “You will be after I club you over the head for that stupid comment. You’re the most stubborn man I’ve ever met, and that’s saying something because Farthingale men are quite impossible at times.”
He shook his head and laughed. “And Farthingale women are the snoopiest women I’ve ever met. You were leaning so far off that bale of hay, straining so hard to catch a word, I was certain you’d tumble off it.”
She blushed. “True, but we snoop with the best of intentions. How can I help you if you won’t tell me what’s wrong? I love you, Ian.” Oh, crumpets! “Oh, dear. Did I just say that?” She let out a little eep.
His expression softened. “You did. Care to say it again?”
She eeped again. Honestly! What was wrong with her? She’d just taken down two assailants without so much as a hitch in her breath. But now, she was in full blush, her tongue thickening in fear, and she couldn’t seem to stop eeping. “I didn’t mean to let it slip out, but it’s no secret. You must know how I feel about you. I do love you, Ian.”
“Which makes me doubt your sanity.” He cast her a wry grin, but there was such turmoil in his expression that it tugged at her heart. He was a damaged soul, unable to believe that anyone could care for him, and if someone ever did care, then something awful was bound to happen.
“I suppose that’s why you call me Daffy.” She maintained her smile, wanting to keep their conversation as casual as possible, even though she’d just exposed her heart and had no illusions about the chaos her words were causing him.
Nor did she expect Ian to take her into his arms and profess his undying love for her. Still, she was disappointed that he’d simply made a jest of it and now looked like he’d rather be anywhere but here beside her. She was not going to force him to say more, for affection and caring were new sensations to him and he must find them overwhelming. “I’m not the only one who’s a little out of sorts right now,” she said. “You’re rather a shambles at the moment, too. What did those men tell you?”
He drew away and moved to stand beside the hearth, resting his arm on the mantel as he gazed into the flames. “They just confirmed what I already suspected.”
“Which is...” she prompted when he didn’t immediately continue. She was afraid to push too hard, for he might walk out and she was in no condition to chase after him. Her race to the stable to save him ha
d sapped her strength and been quite enough excitement for one day.
He remained silent, still staring into the fire. She took the opportunity to study him while he appeared distracted. That look in his eyes... so haunted and angry. He was capable of murder. Was he actually contemplating it? “You know who ordered the attack, don’t you?”
He nodded.
She shoved out of her chair to hobble to his side and wrap her arms around him. “You can tell me anything. I’ll keep it in confidence, which is saying quite a lot since Farthingales never keep their mouths shut. But you know I can. Please let me help. Please don’t run away from me.”
He arched an eyebrow in surprise. “Why would I run from you?”
She eased back to study his face. His torment was still evident on his handsome features. That was quite something, she realized with a start, for Ian wasn’t trying to hide his feelings from her. Quite the opposite, he was allowing her to see into his heart. For Ian, that was as close to an admission of love as he was capable of giving. “I don’t know. You’re the one who said you had to leave.”
“Among other things, in order to obtain the special license and engage the minister. I’ll bring him back here to perform our wedding ceremony. I’m not wasting any more time on courtship. Not that I’ve spent a whit of time properly courting you.”
“And not that I care a whit about it either. I’ve accepted the fact that we’ll never do anything the ordinary way. I can’t wait to meet Felicity and make the three of us a family.” But he’d said “among other things,” and that was the part that worried her. What else did he intend to do before he returned with the special license and the minister?
“Felicity will love you at first sight,” he said, stroking a finger across her cheek as he cast her a tender smile.
“As I’ll love her.” She sighed and shook her head. “Mother will be disappointed. Five daughters and not a decent courtship among them. Lily’s wedding was a beautiful affair, though. I suppose my mother will have to be satisfied with that. I’ll ask her to throw us a party. She’ll enjoy planning it. Aunt Julia will help. Thank you for wanting to marry me, Ian. I don’t think I could ever love anyone but you. In truth, I know I couldn’t.”