The Hired Hero

by Andrea Pickens

  He made a sound as if he meant to protest.

  “Stay still, my lord, and let me see to those cuts without squirming around like a stuck pig.”

  Davenport finally found his tongue. “Would that they had stuck me and been done with it. It is getting tiresome to be—” He bit off an oath as Caroline touched a raw scrape on his cheek.

  “Sorry,” she muttered as she twisted out the cloth and applied a compress to the swelling.

  “You are getting very good at this.”

  She gave a short laugh. “If you don’t have a care, sir, your bones will soon be a match for mine.”

  That drew a reluctant smile from him. “A pair, aren’t we?” he agreed. “What in Hades ever made you follow those men? Surely you could see they were in no mood to be trifled with. You could have gotten yourself in more trouble than you can imagine—as you see, it took them little time to figure out you were not an ordinary street urchin.”

  “And you could have gotten yourself in a worse state. I am well aware what mood they were in—the mood for blood.”

  “But not yours, as you saw. You should have gone on to the inn and taken the first coach to London. I could have handled the situation very well myself.”

  She cocked an eyebrow. “Indeed? If I had been one of those gentlemen, I’m sure I would have been quaking in my boots. Besides, you told me the coach didn’t leave until close to dawn.”

  “Well, it was a damn foolish thing to do. Will you never learn to be sensible?”

  “Probably not.” Her hands working at cleaning the rest of the scrapes with a touch more vigor than necessary and she was rewarded by seeing him wince slightly. “Stop ringing a peal over my head,” she continued. “You’ve pulled my irons out of the fire more than once on this journey, at considerable risk to your own person. I owed you.”

  Davenport’s expression hardened. “I’m sorry you felt compelled to put yourself in danger,” he said stiffly. “No doubt you—what are you doing?”

  Caroline undid the last button of his shirt and opened it to expose his chest. With a sharp intake of breath she stared down at the reddening welt across the ribs, then her eyes, hot with anger, raised to meet his.

  “The cur!” she exclaimed. “What a bloody coward to have struck you thus when you could not protect yourself.’ Her hand was already running gently over the bruise. It lingered against the tanned flesh “Do you think anything is broken?”

  Perhaps it was simply the flickering light playing tricks, but the earl could have sworn he caught a glimmer of tears. The idea was ludicrous, he told himself. Mayhap he was more feverish than he thought.

  “You had best start minding your language, young lady. It’s becoming as colorful as a lad’s,” he answered quietly. “And no, it’s just a bruise. Nothing to be upset about. I assure you I’ve experienced far worse knocks in my time. It will take a lot more than this for me to come a cropper.”

  Caroline had begun to shiver slightly. The air had become distinctly colder. No doubt that was the reason. It didn’t escape Davenport’s notice and he reached out and pulled her down beside him.

  “Lord, I am a selfish oaf,” he muttered. “You are freezing, and exhausted to boot, I’m sure. It has been a...trying day.” His arm curled around her waist and drew her even closer. “It is you who must try to sleep.”

  She found herself snuggling against his shoulder with nary a hesitation. “I thought they were going to... hurt you terribly.” Her hand was still on his bare chest. It feathered across the muscled planes and dark curls as it drew his shirt closed. “You mustn’t catch a chill,” she murmured.

  “Stop worrying about me. I assure you, am feeling quite warm.”

  Davenport turned on his side and pulled her tight to him, wrapping his arms so that they came to rest right under her breasts. The back of her fit snugly into the crook of his body, like the piece of a missing puzzle. He hadn’t been lying. He was acutely aware of the heat emanating from her. She made a small sound, then shifted slightly. Her rounded buttocks grazed lightly against the front of his breeches.

  It was the most fiercely erotic sensation he had ever felt. He gritted his teeth as a jolt of desire throbbed throughout his entire body. Good lord, he had never wanted a woman as badly as he wanted her at that moment. It was not just physical need—the reasons were almost too complex, too overwhelming to frame with words. All he knew was that he wanted to comfort and protect her, and at the same time arouse her desire to the same fever pitch as his own. He wanted her to cry out his name with abandon. She had said it once.

  Julian.

  He wanted her to say it again and again. He wanted her to—he gave up trying to make rational sense of it and simply closed his eyes.

  His hand stole inside her man’s shirt. It slipped up under the light chemise she wore under the thick linen and cupped one of her firm, round breasts. She started, then lay utterly still. Ever so gently, his thumb began to stroke the tender skin, then the nipple itself. To his satisfaction., it hardened almost immediately and her response to him was dizzying. Of its own accord, his other hand joined in caressing her.

  Caroline gave a low moan. Her hips began moving restlessly from side to side against him. The earl sucked in his breath. If she kept that up for much longer, he thought, he would end up disgracing himself like the callowest of schoolboys.

  “Yes, my sweet urchin, it can be pleasurable for a lady too,” he whispered as he nibbled at the lobe of her ear.

  She made an unintelligible answer.

  He slowly undid the buttons of her breeches and traced a path down her soft skin to the downy curls between her thighs. His fingers brushed gently through them, then sought even greater intimacy.

  She gave a low cry.

  He nearly cried out himself at feeling her honeyed dampness. My God, he thought, she wanted him too, and was sweetly ready for him.

  “Has your husband never touched you thus?” he demanded as his fingers found what he was looking for and began to move in a different manner.

  “N...n...no,” she managed to gasp.

  “The selfish lout. He should be horsewhipped,” he said hoarsely as he pressed a kiss against her hair.

  His own arousal was at a fever pitch. A part of him wanted to strip the breeches from her at that instant and take her with a swift, hard passion. They were both so very ready. They both wanted it badly. He began fumbling with the fastening of his own breeches when a disquieting thought somehow beggered its way into his consciousness.

  He was acting no better than Charles, about to tumble another man’s wife in the straw of a barn. The thought of it in that light managed to bank the fires of his desire. Not like this, he decided. He wouldn’t allow them to be carried away by the heat of the moment to couple like two animals in a stall.

  But it wasn’t so very wrong, argued another, more defiant voice in his head. She was an experienced lady, knowing full well what she was consenting to. Why, they would be acting no differently than half the ton. It was accepted behavior, if not condoned, so why shouldn’t they indulge their passion. Besides, it added, she deserved to know a touch of pleasure.

  A ragged sigh escaped his lips. For a brief instant, he found himself wishing he had the morals of his brother, as well as his looks. It wasn’t in him, however. Perhaps he was a romantic fool, but if they did embark on a liaison, it would be amid candlelight, silk and champagne.

  Steely resolve cooled his wild urges, yet as she stirred under his touch, he decided that it would not be so bad of him to show her that relations between a man and a woman did not always have to be so devoid of feeling—as no doubt her brute of a husband had led her to believe.

  Yes, he would give her a taste of what they could expect to share in the future. Suddenly that became of paramount importance, his own physical desire of no consequence. Now he sought only to heighten her sensations, to draw her up a peak she had never scaled before.

  Caroline’s body arched against his hand, limbs becoming tauter
and tauter. Davenport’s lips found her throat, tasting the pounding of her pulse.

  “What is hap... “

  “Hush, little one. Something wonderful.”

  The rhythm of his caresses became more heated and her own response flamed. Her hips were rocking into to him and he felt the tension flare past containment.

  “Julian! Oh, Julian.” Her voice was full of surprise and wonder. A shudder coursed through her body, then she slowly melted in his arms. A stillness reigned, save for the rapid rise and fall of her chest.

  “Julian?” she whispered after a few moments. “I...what—”

  He rolled so that he was above her, elbows resting on either side of her shoulders, their faces mere inches apart.

  She smiled tentatively. “Your eyes are so changeable. Right now they are such a clear blue—the storm clouds seem to have been blown to sea.”

  He kissed her, long and thoroughly.

  When she started to speak again he pressed a finger to her lips. With a sigh, she fell asleep in his arms.

  * * * *

  Davenport awoke before dawn as the horse in the stall beside them gave a kick to the splintered wood. Rough straw prickled his neck, his clothes were stiff with salt and his chin itched with a night’s stubble. And that was hardly the worst of it. There was barely a part of his anatomy that did not pain him in some fashion. His spirits, however, hadn’t felt so light in ages as he glanced down at the face cradled on his chest—that is, until he remembered she was someone else’s wife.

  Caroline’s eyes opened slowly, then she sat up with a start.

  “Oh!” A furious blush spread over her at the sight of the earl’s open shirt and her own disheveled clothing. “Ah...I imagine we had better be off if we are to catch the first coach,” she said with a rush of words, struggling to button her breeches and rise at the same time in order to cover her confusion.

  His hand stopped her fumblings. “Nay,” he said gently. “We have time. We needn’t rush.” He brushed a wisp of straw from her loosened hair. “Caroline, there is no need to feel embarrassed— or guilty. Your husband doesn’t deserve any loyalty for what he has done to you.”

  Her eyes dropped to the ground.

  “Look at me, urchin.”

  She still refused meet his gaze. “Do you still care for him, then?” His voice had become rather brittle.

  “I...”

  His eyes took on the color of cold steel as he waited for her to go on.

  “I don’t...”

  “Yes?”

  “I don’t...have a husband.”

  Davenport could only stare at her in mute astonishment. “What?” he finally managed to sputter.

  “I’m sorry. I let you believe that because it seemed, well, easier at the time.”

  “You mean to say you are not married?” He said the words slowly and deliberately, as if drawing them out might help him comprehend their full import

  She shook her head.

  “Not ever?”

  She shook it again.

  “Bloody hell!”

  He was on his feet in a trice, almost shouting as he paced furiously within the narrow confines of their refuge. A glance down at his bare chest caused him to miss a step as he hurriedly did up his shirt and yanked his coat closed. The string of oaths that followed set her ears to ringing, despite what she had heard escape the lips of her cousin on numerous occasions.

  Her face turned ashen. “I didn’t realize you would be so angry with me. I am so very sorry. Obviously you are regretting—”

  “Regret?” His voice dropped considerably, then his hand raked through his hair. “I didn’t mean—damnation, had I known you had no experience with men I never would have....”

  His initial anger had cooled and the words trailed off as a look of self loathing flooded his eyes. Now he was simply appalled at the magnitude of his own sins. How could he explain to her? “Good lord, I am no better than Charles, debauching an innocent,” he mumbled to himself.

  Caroline’s head flew up. “No!” How could you ever think such a thing? You are nothing like your brother. Why, you are the most...honorable man I have ever met. Of course, I have had it explained to me that there gentlemen who will try to force themselves on a lady, but it was not like that at all. If there is fault to be laid, it is with me—I am truly sorry if I have led you astray by my actions. I...I don’t know exactly what happened last night.” She shook her head in confusion and once again had to let her eyes slide away from his. “Luc—my cousin says men are wont to do things they will regret later when in their cups. Mayhap it is the same for ladies. I vow, I shall never touch a drop of brandy again!”

  That drew a short bark of laughter from the earl, despite his jumbled emotions. Why was it his normal world seemed to tilt on a strange axis when in proximity to this maddening chit, he couldn’t help but wonder. Why, she had had him off kilter ever since he had first picked her up out of the mud—that thought suddenly brought him back to their present predicament. His brows drew together.

  “If you have no husband, then who in Hades is after you with such a vengeance?”

  She swallowed hard. “I don’t know.”

  “Stop playing games with me,” he said in a low voice. “I won’t have it anymore.” His eyes bore into her. ““I think by now I should have earned more than your damn guineas—I should have earned your trust.”

  “I don’t know,” she repeated. But before he could explode with any further angry words, she took his hand and pressed it up against her jacket. “Truly I don’t. But I know what he wants.”

  A slight lump shifted under his fingers, causing his expression to turn into one of puzzlement.

  Caroline let out a long breath. “You asked me a while back whether I had made off with the family jewels. Well, what I have here is infinitely more valuable than that. The fate of a number of people, and perhaps a country, rests in the pages I carry hidden in this packet. I don’t know who it is that is pursuing it, but I know he is no friend of England, and that he has killed already to get his hands on these documents. And as we have seen, he won’t hesitate for a moment to do so again.” She began to fiddle with the frayed cuff of the jacket, her eyes falling away from his. “So perhaps now you understand my reluctance to trust...anyone .”

  “Let alone a drunken wastrel.”

  “It has been some time since I have thought of you as that, my lord,” she replied in a near whisper.

  His face remained impassive. “How did you come by the papers?”

  There was only the slightest pause before she answered. “My father is...involved with the government from time to time. These papers came by special courier to our home, but he had just left on a mission to the Continent.”

  “Why didn’t the man take them on to London, then?” asked Davenport, though it took little imagination to figure out what had happened. Her next words, therefore, came as little surprise.

  “He died on our doorstep.”

  The earl shook his head. He could not suppress the scowl on his face or the edge of anger to his voice. “And your people allowed you to undertake the task of delivering the papers to London by yourself?”

  Her chin came up. “They had little say in the matter.”

  “That I can well believe,” he muttered through gritted teeth.

  “Surely you wouldn’t expect that I would ask a groom or a footman to risk his life. And Darwin is well past his prime, though I should never say so to his face. It was my responsibility.”

  “Was there no male of your family? What of that damned—that cousin of yours?”

  “There was no one but me.” She struggled to control the slight quiver of her lips as memories of the past number of days flooded over her. “I daresay I have done as well as Luc—as he could have,” she added stoutly. “Well, nearly as well. I doubt he would have allowed himself to be nipped in the alleyway.”

  “I daresay you have.”

  Davenport reached out, taking her by the elbow and
drawing her down to sit beside him on the straw. Her arm remained in his grip, but his touch had become almost gentle. He cleared his throat while pondering how to proceed, then spoke again.

  “Tell me what happened.”

  She did.

  He said nothing during her recounting of the stormy night, the mad flight and the terrible crash, though the increasing tension in his body gave hint as to his feelings. Caroline finished her story with a slight exclamation that caused the earl to start.

  “Sir, if you do not loosen your hold on me, I fear I shall have another blotch of purple to add to my formidable collection.”

  His fingers flew open, but remained resting lightly on her sleeve. “You still haven’t told me who you are.”

  She started to speak, then stopped. The silence yawed between them, the only answer it seemed he would receive. A look of hurt passed over his features, quickly replaced by no expression at all.

  “Quite right,” he said, an edge to his voice. “No need for the hired lackey to know anything more.” Before she could protest, he scrambled to his feet. “Where did you put the pistol from last night?”

  She pointed to where it lay in the dirt.

  He picked it up and carefully inspected the priming. “Come on then, let’s be off,” he snapped as he slid the weapon into his coat pocket. “There is even more reason to get you to London without further delay. At least now it seems likely that I shall actually get my money.”

  Since his back was deliberately turned towards her, there was no way he could see the stricken look on Caroline’s face.

  * * *

  Chapter 9

  The sails backed, the helmsman shifted course a few degrees and the ship ghosted into the crowded harbor. At the first lieutenant’s crisp command, chains rattled and the anchor plunged into the murky depths. Although the moon still cast a faint glow over the water, the Duke and his nephew were aboveboard and pacing the deck before the last sail was furled.

  The captain approached, the set of his shoulders betraying a hint of nerves. It wasn’t every day that his small vessel was commandeered by a peer of the realm—and one in such a dire haste to reach his destination. He swallowed as he considered that the storm had possibly sunk all hopes of advancement.