If the Earl Only Knew (The Daring Marriages)

by Amanda Forester

  “And unbutton the shirt,” said Kate slowly, feeling powerful and very, very naughty. It was delicious.

  “As you wish.” John undid the three buttons at the top of his shirt, revealing a glimpse of a perfect, muscular, chiseled chest.

  Kate swallowed on a dry throat. When had it got so unbearably hot? She was playing with fire. It would not end well. Nothing following this moment could be good for her. She should leave.

  But she didn’t.

  They stared at each other in the near darkness. What would happen next?

  “If anyone were to catch us having a tête-à-tête together at this time of night, particularly in this state of undress, we should surely be forced to marry. We should retire to our separate bedchambers.” There, she had said the right thing.

  “You give sensible advice,” he agreed.

  But neither moved.

  “Since you are leaving tomorrow,” began John, “and I know not when I might see you again, I feel compelled to confess that though I am not unfamiliar with feminine charms, your kiss is the only one that haunts my memory.”

  “Why is that?” Her pulse skipped in a merry dance.

  “I do not know. I believe you are the only one who can help me.”

  Kate stared at him, fearing it was some cruel jest. He remained earnest, and she feared even more that he was sincere. Truth be told, Kate had given more than enough thought to that kiss as well, but she reasoned it was because it was her first and only. If John also thought often of the kiss, what did it mean?

  “How many other debutantes have you gone about kissing?” asked Kate, getting down to the practicality of his request.

  “None! Save you,” he amended.

  “Then who have you been kissing?”

  He shifted and looked away, answering her with false carelessness. “Truth be told, none of late. But in my younger, wilder years there were young widows, the unhappily married, professional courtesans, the typical fodder for a disreputable lad, but I recall none the way I remember you.”

  “Then you have your answer. You have had connections with others who want something from you. They wish for your money, your body, or your name. Their kiss is currency.”

  He turned back to face her. “And yours was a gift. Given freely.” John stood a small step closer, a half smile of wonder on his face. “Thank you.”

  They stood in silence staring at each other. This was her last chance to have any interaction with the man who haunted her dreams and she could think of nothing to say. “You say the kiss was a poor one?” Had she said that out loud?

  “One of my worst.”

  It seemed a shame that if one kiss would haunt her dreams forever that it not even be his best. If she was to cling to one memory of a kiss for the rest of her lonely, celibate life, should she not at least taste what the man could truly offer?

  “I am willing to attempt the process again, and you can judge whether or not my performance is improved.” He was so somber and matter-of-fact, she almost missed the fact that he had offered to kiss her again.

  That will not be necessary. Those were the words she should say, but somehow they were stuck in her throat. Kiss me! were the words she wanted to say, but she held that in check as well.

  “In truth, I should beg your indulgence to give you a corrective kiss,” he suggested slyly.

  “A corrective kiss?”

  “Yes, one to correct the memory of the poor one I gave earlier.”

  “You are asking to repeat the kiss?”

  “Yes.” John smiled a smile Kate bet few women could resist. “As a favor to me.” He stepped forward. “Lady Kate, may I give you a proper kiss?”

  Her heart pounded its acceptance of the proposal. Yet there was nothing proper in his request. This was the truth from which she was running. This was why she had demonized Wynbrook in her mind. She was madly, wildly infatuated with him. Now here he was, alone with her at night. This was her last chance to live out the dream.

  “As you wish,” she acquiesced, but she felt powerful in the acceptance.

  He stepped slowly forward, placing his arms around her, taking his time with every movement. He drew her closer, but she did not care for the agonizing slowness of his actions and wrapped her arms around him.

  He tilted his head down and brushed his lips against hers, sending shock waves down her spine. She could not wait for him and stood on tiptoes to press her lips to his. He drew her in closer, holding her tight down the length of him. He deepened the kiss, and she feared she would melt into the floor. She’d had no concept of the powerful emotions that could be aroused from the joining of their lips and the intimate dance that followed.

  Finally, he broke the kiss, only because of the need for air. Kate gasped herself, tingling in places she hardly knew existed.

  “Marry me,” he whispered, touching his forehead to her own.

  Nothing could have restored sense to her more than those words, which were like a slap across her face. She stepped back. “Fortunately, as I have said before, I am not one to trap a man into marriage, so such an offer is unnecessary.”

  He took a breath. He was still the same man but somehow a bit deflated. “Yes, quite true.”

  “I hope this time we may part friends,” said Kate, unsure what had just happened but feeling bereft from the loss of something she could not quite name.

  “Yes. Friends.”

  Kate sped from the room, wiping the tears from her eyes. She had been a fool to play with fire. She thought the worst thing in the world would be never experiencing what she wanted more than anything in the world.

  She was wrong.

  The worst thing was being offered everything she ever wanted and walking away with nothing.

  Nineteen

  It was time to make her escape. Kate was determined to sneak out of the house early, but their hired coach was late in arriving, leaving her to pace in the entryway with her sea locker packed and ready to go.

  As for her purchased carriage, Robert had vetoed the idea of driving it to Arlington Hall as likely to be fatal to Pickles. In the end, the “carriage” had been sold for scrap and Kate had arranged with the stables at King’s Cross to gently care for Pickles—an arrangement that was costing her far more than simply renting a decent coach would have been. This left her waiting for the hired carriage, her anxiety growing with each passing minute.

  She had done it again—she had kissed John. Lord Wynbrook, she mentally corrected. It was a wonderful, proper kiss. But one that should be the end of their association. She needed to make her escape. She could not face him in the light of day.

  The happy chatter of voices struck a discordant chord in her ear. Footmen began to carry luggage down the stairs and past her, out the door. Guests were beginning to make their way down the stairs as well. Not only had she been unsuccessful in avoiding company, but now she appeared to be caught up in a mass exodus.

  “Hullo, Kate!” Tristan tripped down the stairs, impeccably dressed as always. “Leaving soon? So will we all it appears!”

  “You are all leaving?”

  “Those eminent members of Parliament in our midst have been called back. Governmental crisis!” he said with a gleam of excitement.

  “Robert?” Kate called.

  He emerged from a nearby sitting room, missive in hand. “King’s mad. Going to make Prince George regent.”

  “And that requires your presence?”

  “The House of Lords have been respectfully recalled.” Lord Wynbrook, the man who had kissed her properly, strolled down the mahogany stairs, looking much more handsome than ought to be legal. The only crisis she could see was that her escape had been thwarted.

  “I trust you and Dare will continue to stay with us at Wynbrook House, since now we are all headed to London.” He gave her a knowing smile, which she might have been
able to forgive had it not been accompanied by a scandalous wink. Wretched man! He knew she could not fly into a temper with the host of witnesses now making its way down the stairs.

  “Brilliant.” Kate was thoroughly displeased.

  After an agonizing time waiting in the foyer with Lord Wynbrook, the coachman finally arrived to announce their carriage was ready. They spent much of the day rolling along in a line, heading back to London. Her only solace was that she was alone with Robert in the hired coach.

  Until the wheel fell off.

  “This is officially the worst day of my life!” Kate hissed to Robert as the Wynbrook coach slowed to a stop behind their broken carriage.

  John and Tristan jumped out, while Ellen waved to them from the window.

  “Horrible luck, old man,” said Tristan in good humor. “Fortunately, we are here to render aid.”

  “Yes, do come with us. Plenty of room,” said Wynbrook with a smile that could not be contained.

  Before Kate could think of a valid reason why it would not work, Robert had assented to the plan, and their luggage was duly transported to the Wynbrook coach. She decided if she must ride with Wynbrook in the coach, at least she would make sure she was not seated across from him, forced to look at his smug face for the next six hours.

  As it turned out, she was seated next to him, which was infinitely worse. Robert and Tristan rode backward, with herself and Ellen riding forward, and of course John, happy as a lark, in between them. She could not even tell him to move over so that his side was not touching hers without inviting unwanted attention to her discomfort.

  “Do you have an idea for a replacement?” asked Tristan, prattling on about the need to replace the elderly rector for Arlington Hall, utterly oblivious to her distress. Perhaps she always looked miserable such that he could not tell the difference between general and specific discomfiture.

  “No, I do not have a candidate for the living, though I am certain it should not be difficult to fill. Always something to manage when one owns an estate, eh, Dare?” Wynbrook addressed him in a friendly manner.

  Robert nodded. “Need to find new tenants for Greystone.”

  “You rent out your country estate?” queried Wynbrook.

  Robert nodded again. They had not set foot in their countryseat since their father had died there. At first, they needed the rent, but now neither wanted to return. Too many bad remembrances.

  They rolled up on a public inn for refreshment and a change of horses. They were not alone in the idea, and several other familiar carriages of the wedding guests could be seen outside. Kate alighted from the coach and immediately sought the privy, needing to get away from her present company. Afterward, she wandered about the yard, not wanting to return to the inn. She could not think of anything more uncomfortable than to make mindless small talk over a cold lunch with Wynbrook and his family.

  She was lured into a pretty spot of wilderness beside the inn and wandered into the trees, breathing deep of the fresh pine scent. Her feet were cold in the snow, but she had no desire to return.

  Wynbrook. How was she ever going to get him off her mind? He had kissed her. Offered for her hand. Of course it was only because he felt some obligation and knew she would say no. But what if she had said yes?

  She sat on a boulder and closed her eyes, indulging her imagination. What would it be like to be the Countess of Wynbrook? She would be at his side. Sleep in his bed. Manage his estate. Sleep in his bed. Be expected to live in society. Sleep in his bed. Face hateful gossips who would observe she made a wretched countess. And yet…she would sleep in his bed.

  Her attention was drawn by a sudden silence in the woods. No birds chirped. Even the rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze stilled. It was as if the whole of the forest had collectively taken a breath, waiting for something to happen.

  A crunch of footsteps in the snow behind her got her attention. Was Wynbrook or her brother coming out to find her? The footsteps moved slowly, as if trying not to be heard. Not her brother. Another crunch to her left. Two someones were sneaking up on her. Every nerve, every fiber was now alert, ready, but she kept her eyes closed, not wanting to give away her wariness, which was her only advantage.

  She slowly leaned down and reached for her knife. The footsteps rushed toward her and she sprang up, swinging around, knife in hand. The surprised man attempted to stop, slid on the slick ground, and fell into the boulder.

  “Get her!” yelled someone and two more men advanced upon her, all wearing mufflers around their faces to hide their identities.

  She had no idea who they were or what they wanted, but she would not go down without a fight. The first man grabbed at her and she slashed his arm, causing the big man to howl in pain.

  She spun and kicked the legs out from the other man, who fell to the ground. She slashed at the first man who had regained his feet, backing him away. She needed to get back to the inn. The click of a pistol stayed her.

  She turned to see a fourth man, similarly wrapped in a muffler, pointing a pistol at her head.

  “Drop it,” he commanded with authority.

  She was not going to win this one. She dropped the knife.

  “You’re coming with us,” said the man.

  Kate screamed before they could get on the gag. She struggled, but they had surrounded her, tying her hands before her and holding her fast on each side.

  “Get her into the coach, quick now!” They half carried, half dragged her a short distance to the road and bundled her into a coach.

  “Kate!” Robert yelled at her from a distance.

  Kate lay crumpled in a heap on the floor of the carriage. She kept her eyes mostly closed, feigning unconsciousness. Her brother had seen her. He would come. There was nothing she could do now to fight off four armed men, so it was best to lie still and wait for a better opportunity—specifically, when Robert made his move.

  “Captain should be pleased,” said one of the men. Though the curtains of the coach were drawn, their mufflers remained in place, masking their faces. Their voices were unfamiliar to Kate. She scanned a mental list of people who might hold grudges against her or Robert and found, quite to her displeasure, that being in the business of taking the worldly goods of other people meant one did amass a large number of enemies.

  But who would have the audacity to attack them here in England? Robert had a well-deserved reputation for ferocity on the high seas, but he had never attacked a British vessel, and these were clearly Englishmen. Could some French captain have hired these thugs? But for what purpose? If someone was seeking revenge, why keep her alive?

  “How much do you think we’ll get for her?” asked one of her assailants. She stared at his brass hobnail boots through half-closed eyes. One of the nails had come loose and was sticking up through the leather.

  “Enough. Don’t you worry none about that,” answered a man with large forearms.

  Ransom. They planned to hold her for ransom. At least they would not kill her. Probably. The thought did little to soothe her strained nerves, and she wished Robert would hurry up and rescue her. Whoever these men were, she did not wish to find out what they had planned. The carriage sped along the road, jostling her from side to side. She was going to be good and bruised before the day was out.

  She heard the approaching galloping horse before they did. Of course, she was listening for it. It approached closer, riding hard. It was Robert; it must be. He needed these men to be distracted.

  She rose suddenly and slammed her tied fists down on the crotch of the nearest man. He howled in pain. She swung her arms around, connecting with the man on the other side, hitting him in the eye.

  The other two men jumped on her, holding her down. The particularly large one raised a massive fist to slam into her head. It would have knocked her into unconsciousness had his fist actually connected.

  Fortunately
, Robert crashed feetfirst through the window of the coach, knocking the man off of her. Several men reached for their pistols, but Robert leveled his and shot at one man, who cried out and dropped his weapon. Gunpowder and smoke filled the carriage.

  Another shot rang out, but it missed Robert and he grabbed the discharged pistol with his left hand and tossed it out the broken window before punching the man in the nose with his right.

  Kate yanked down her gag. “Robert, watch out—”

  A third shot cracked sharply, hurting her ears in the confined space. Blood spattered on the coach wall, and Robert slid to the floor, clutching at his side.

  “No!” screamed Kate.

  “Lie still or I’ll kill you!” threatened one of the abductors.

  Robert met her eyes. Even injured, he had not given up. He looked up quickly at the carriage door latch and back at her. The carriage jostled and Robert used the motion to move his feet, so that they were flat almost against her. In a flash, she knew what he was thinking. She shook her head ever so slightly, but Robert narrowed his eyes and glared at her, resolute.

  She had to do this. Yet if she did, her brother would be left behind. And if she didn’t, they would both be abducted. She gritted her teeth. This was her only hope. She steeled herself for the impact and quickly reached up, pulling hard on the latch.

  “Hey!” shouted one of their assailants, grabbing for her. The door clicked open and Robert kicked her hard, pushing her out of the carriage and onto the frozen road. She tucked her chin and rolled with the impact. She expected it would hurt, and it did, but this was not the time to nurse her wounds; she needed to get away and find help.

  She staggered to her feet and yelled for help, spinning around to see if there was anyone who could render them assistance. Unfortunately, the road was now deserted.

  The carriage continued to roll forward, then came to a stop with a jolt. Men were shouting inside the carriage and she had no doubt that Robert was making as much trouble for them as he could. Wounded as he was, she doubted that he could overcome four men. A man jumped from the carriage and staggered toward her.