Her Secret Lover

by Sara Bennett

  “Perhaps you haven’t yet met the girl who will accept you for what you are, Coombe.” She spoke carefully but with a kindness that he found touching.

  “How will I know when I meet her, miss?”

  “I don’t have a great deal of experience in such matters, but I think you’ll know because you’ll want to please her, Coombe. Chores that seem tedious and boring will fly by because you’ll be seeing her. And when you look into her eyes and touch her hand, when you kiss her, you’ll feel as if you are sharing something very special.”

  They were silent, both looking out over the breathtaking view of green fields and woods and distant blue hills.

  “This is beautiful,” Antoinette said, as if only just noticing what was before her.

  “Yes, miss. Barnstaple is over that way, we go there sometimes to market, and once some visitors came to the train station and we had to collect them in the cart. St. Nells is over there, on the coast. It’s not so far. And London is beyond Barnstaple, that way, but you can’t see the smoke and soot of the chimneys from here, so Mrs. Wonicot says.”

  He was attributing a lot to Sally Wonicot, but he didn’t think she’d mind.

  “London.” Antoinette sighed.

  “Aye. Is there a special reason you want to go there, miss?”

  She turned to him, and the expression in her eyes was one he’d seen before, on the day he’d opened the door of her coach and confronted her. She looked as if she was trapped and desperate but refusing to give in, with a courage he found admirable. Something in his chest clenched so hard it hurt, and he wondered if it could possibly be his heart.

  “I am asking you, no, begging you, to help me to get to London, Coombe.”

  “I told you, miss, I’ve never been further than Barnstaple,” he muttered, uncomfortable.

  “But you just said that the road to London runs through Barnstaple. Or else I can catch the train. Yes, the train would be best. I know it’s a great deal to ask, but if you help me, then I promise to help you.”

  If he was really a man like Coombe, what would he think of that? Gabriel shot her a quick glance from under the peak of his cap. Behind her spectacles her eyes were bright with worry, and she was chewing her full bottom lip. Coombe, he decided, would probably fly to the moon for her, if she asked him to.

  “Why do you want to go to London, miss?” he said, needing to know.

  “I have something very important I must do there.” Her expression was no longer open, and she turned away to gaze again at the view.

  “But you could ask His Lordship to fetch you home, couldn’t you? It would be safer that way, and he’d pay your fare.”

  “I—I suppose I could, but I’d rather not. It is a private matter, and I don’t want His Lordship to know I am traveling to London.”

  Puzzled, he watched her profile. What was she up to? If she was telling the truth, then there was more to her situation than he’d thought. Could she and Appleby have had a falling out? Perhaps she resented being hidden away down here to save his reputation? And if she and Appleby were estranged, then why wouldn’t she hand over the letter to Gabriel? Surely if that was the case there would be no reason for her to hold on to it, and it would give her a chance to pay him back.

  In Gabriel’s experience, women were very good at revenging themselves on the men who upset them, using anything from tears to screaming obscenities. He shuddered, remembering one such incident, when he refused to give a pretty dancer the necklace she demanded.

  Suddenly Antoinette turned, catching him staring, and he hastily cleared his throat and spat, to distract her. It worked; she looked away.

  “Will you give me an answer, Coombe?” she said quietly. “I need to know soon.”

  “I’ll think on it,” he muttered uneasily. “’Tis a big step, miss.”

  Again he sensed her frustration, but she held it in check. “I will need my answer, Coombe. I can’t wait forever.”

  “Aye, miss.”

  She could do nothing but nod her understanding, but he could see it wasn’t the ending she wanted. Together they rode back in silence. He thought she looked sad and pensive, and she spoke only a brief good-bye before leaving him to unsaddle the horses.

  As Gabriel worked he thought about what she’d said and what he should do. If he agreed to her request, then he might be able to slip beneath her guard and discover what she was up to. And then again, if he helped her run away, she would have to take the letter with her, and he could persuade her to hand it over to him, or take it by force. Of course that would mean revealing himself to her as Gabriel, not Coombe, and she’d be justifiably angry.

  And if he refused to help her? She’d lose her faith in Coombe and stop talking to him, but she would have to stay here at Wexmoor Manor, and he’d have to make sure that the watch on her was intensified. The letter would remain here in the manor, hidden, and he’d continue with his efforts to persuade her to give it up. Their pleasurable trysts would go on.

  As far as Gabriel could see, whatever decision he made meant he would win. Now he’d just have to decide what he wanted more—Antoinette or the letter.

  Chapter 20

  The garden at Wexmoor Manor was a wild affair. It must once have been trained into neat borders and beds, but now it more or less did as it pleased. Shrubs were overgrown and perennials reached to the sky, while roses bloomed in mad profusion, climbing over and through other plants.

  To her surprise, Antoinette found its chaos charming. Her own garden in Surrey was perfectly behaved—if a blade of grass grew too tall, someone would clip it off. But here at Wexmoor Manor the garden was king.

  She pottered about, perfectly happy, admiring flowers and wondering what some of the more unfamiliar herbs might be. Were these planted by Priscilla Langley, the witch of the woods? Did she wander in this same garden, feeling the sun warm on her head, enjoying the scents and the sounds of the birds?

  Gradually, though, she began to feel a tingling at the back of her neck. A sense that she was not alone. She caught a glimpse of the highwayman slipping behind a grove of apple trees, and smiled. Lately she was always being watched by one of Appleby’s cronies, but that flush under her skin only occurred when he was watching her.

  She turned toward the maze—too overgrown now to attempt to find one’s way in, much less out—and told herself to ignore him. He would have to show himself, eventually.

  Sure enough, as she was bending to inspect another of the herbs, a voice spoke so close behind her it made her jump. “Sparrow, you have petals in your hair.”

  Antoinette turned so quickly she nearly fell over, and he had to catch hold of her arm. “I wonder there are only petals,” she said, breathless. “This is a wilderness, not a garden. Does no one prune or check anything here?”

  “We believe in nature taking its course.”

  Antoinette broke his hold, moving away, but he came after her. He was out of place here, in his dark clothing and his mask, like a ghost in the daylight.

  “Have you robbed any coaches today?” she said, a sting in her voice. She was still smarting over Marietta.

  “Several, thank you, darling.”

  “There must be a great many wealthy gentlemen here in Devon.”

  “And beautiful wealthy ladies. I prefer to rob them.”

  How did he know just what to say? It wasn’t that she was jealous, she told herself, goodness me no! She felt sorry for the ladies, if the truth be told, to be tricked by a smooth-tongued rogue like him.

  “If I were you I would find one you like and persuade her to marry you,” she said. “An heiress in the hand is worth two in the bush, so they say.”

  He looked puzzled, his head cocked to one side, and then he smiled. “Are you making a jest, Antoinette? Or are you a little jealous? Don’t you like the thought of me spreading my favors far and wide? Believe me, of all the women in Devon, you are my favorite.”

  Foolish, the way her heart jumped about. She turned away, wanting only to escape him
before he saw just how much he affected her.

  But he was too quick for her.

  He caught her hand in his. As she tried to pull free he was running with her toward the overgrown maze, tugging her off balance so it was all she could do to stay on her feet. A moment later they were inside the living walls, greenery towering over them.

  “Let me go!” she cried, trying to free herself.

  He ignored her, circling around and around, zigzagging through narrow pathways where the sides of hedge almost joined together. “This maze was built for a famous lady, a king’s mistress,” he said.

  “Built for her?” Antoinette gasped.

  “For love of her.” They turned another corner and then he stopped. “Here we are,” he said with an air of reverence. “In the very heart of the maze.”

  Antoinette was panting, trying to catch her breath. The light in here had a green tint, almost as if they were under water. “Well, now you can turn around and take me out again,” she said furiously.

  “The idea is to find your own way out.”

  There was a glint in his pale eyes she knew all too well. He was planning something she wasn’t going to like—or perhaps she would like it a little too much. She began to shake her head. “No—”

  “You haven’t heard my proposition yet,” he pointed out.

  “Then tell me. But the answer will still be no.”

  “I will require one piece of clothing for each time I show you which way to go to get out. If you’re lucky and don’t go the wrong way too often, you may still have your stockings by the time you reach it.”

  Antoinette could hardly believe what she was hearing. Shocking! How could he make such a suggestion? But deep inside her, where the other Antoinette slept, excitement was stirring. Of course she couldn’t let him see that, and there was no way she could agree to such a proposal.

  She pursed her lips. “Most definitely not. Show me the way out immediately.”

  He shook his head and began slowly backing away from her, one foot after the other. Her heart began to thump at the prospect of being left here, alone, at the heart of this wilderness.

  “Good-bye, Sparrow,” he said, his mouth turning down in pretended regret, and then he turned and was gone.

  “Don’t leave me…” But it was a whisper, not loud enough for him to hear. Antoinette sighed. She supposed he thought she would scream and weep and agree to anything if he’d save her. But Antoinette was used to taking control in such situations—she had been her own mistress for a great many years now. This was not the time to become hysterical. Slowly, cautiously, she began to retrace her steps.

  It can’t be all that difficult.

  But it was. Every path appeared the same, and she’d not taken note of the direction as the highwayman led her in. She’d been more interested in preserving her dignity. But she persevered, following her instincts. Just when she was sure she was on the right path, she came to a dead end, and had to retrace her steps. But for every wrong turn she became more and more confused. To make it worse, some of the hedge had grown so tall it made an arch and blocked out the sky, so she was walking through green shadows.

  It felt like another world. A world of elves and creatures of nature, waiting to pounce. Antoinette, who was too levelheaded to be frightened by fairy stories, began glancing over her shoulder at every step and starting at every sound. A couple of times she thought she heard laughter, a woman’s laughter, and a man’s soft chuckle. As if she were sharing the maze with ghosts of the past.

  “Hello?” she tried calling out, softly at first and then increasingly louder.

  No one answered.

  “Help!” she bellowed, but still there was no reply. She even called for Coombe, but the groom must have been busy elsewhere today. The one time she wanted to be followed, there was no one following her.

  I’m lost, she thought despairingly, as she turned another corner.

  The highwayman was seated on an old wooden bench, smiling at her, his pale eyes gleaming wickedly through the slits of his black mask. But she’d seen his face now, and her secret gave her a small surge of power in what seemed a hopeless situation.

  “Do you need help, Antoinette?” he asked sweetly.

  “You know I do,” she said crossly.

  “Are you willing to accept my proposal? Every time I point you in the right direction you will pay a forfeit of a piece of your clothing. Agreed?’’

  Her eyes narrowed. He was altogether too pleased with himself and she would have liked to refuse, but the maze was beginning to frighten her badly. Besides, what he was suggesting was exciting and dangerous, and it was quite possible she might best him. Once she reached familiar ground she could find her way on her own and walk out without losing very much at all, and then it would be he who looked foolish.

  “I agree.”

  He stayed where he was, but his gaze slid slowly over her body, assessing her items of clothing. “We’ll start with your dress, I think.”

  Antoinette hesitated. She was wearing petticoats and chemise, as well as numerous other undergarments. If he imagined she would be overcome by the removal of her dress, then he was wrong. Swiftly she began to unbutton her bodice.

  He paid her flattering attention.

  She tugged her sleeves over her hands and eased the dress down over her hips and stepped out of it, leaving it where it fell. And then she stood before him with her back straight and chin up, and waited.

  He grinned and stood up, holding out his hand. Slowly she placed her fingers in his and was drawn toward him. “This way,” he said, and led her down a pathway that looked exactly the same as all the others.

  What followed was a battle of wits and wills. By the time they reached an area she thought she recognized, she had removed all her petticoats and her chemise, as well as her shoes. Now, in only her drawers and stays and stockings, she was finally sure of her direction. Antoinette halted, and when he turned to see what was the matter, she gave him a broad smile.

  “Thank you, sir, but I believe I know the way from here.”

  A quizzical look, and he shrugged and folded his arms. “Go ahead, darling. Surprise me.”

  Antoinette took her time, peering one way and then the other. She remembered this junction, and if she wasn’t mistaken—and she was confident she wasn’t—this was the way out. With a final triumphant glance over her shoulder, she made her choice.

  She was wrong, but she didn’t know it.

  Gabriel watched as her confidence began to melt away, drop by drop, and her steps faltered. Did she know how gorgeous she looked? The stays were tight, pushing up her breasts until they threatened to overflow, and her drawers hugged her waist and flared out over her hips and bottom. Her stockings were fine silk, and the curve of pale thigh between their tops and the drawers made his mouth water.

  When she finally stopped and turned, admitting her mistake, he was right behind her. “Oh!” Her eyes widened, her lips parted. It was too tempting for him. He drew her into his arms and began to kiss her.

  She didn’t struggle. She stood up on her tiptoes and clung to his neck, and her mouth opened eagerly under his. He cupped her bottom, lifting her higher, settling the hard length of his cock against the warm niche of her thighs.

  She made a soft sound of need, and he knew if he didn’t get inside her he was going to burst.

  “I was so sure,” she gasped. “How did you know I was wrong?”

  “I’ve walked this maze since I was a child.”

  “But…”

  “Hush,” he said arrogantly. “It is time to pay your forfeit in full, Antoinette.”

  He kissed her again, fingers in her hair, drinking from her lips, but this time she wouldn’t let him work his magic. She twisted away and ran back the way they’d come, turning in the direction she’d spurned before. He followed, at first walking, certain she’d stop, and then running to keep up when she didn’t.

  As he expected, eventually she took another wrong turning and arr
ived at a dead end. And that was when Gabriel pounced.

  He came up behind her and slid an arm about her waist, pulling her delicious curves in against him and pinning her there. She doubled over, slapping at his arm with her hands, kicking her legs. Every movement she made intensified the pressure in his groin, until he thought he’d burst, and with a groan he let her go. She stumbled, fell, landing on her hands and knees, and suddenly it was perfect.

  He dropped to his knees behind her, covering her back with his chest, his thighs fitted to hers, her soft bottom cushioning his cock. She turned her head, mouth open in protest, and he leaned down and kissed her.

  “Let me,” he murmured, kissing her again, nuzzling at her nape, her hair, pushing his hips hard against her so that she could feel him.

  “Oh,” she whispered, understanding.

  It made him smile, as he loosened the back of her stays and slid his hands beneath her and cupped her breasts. Her nipples were hard with excitement, and when he gently tugged them, she arched her back in pleasure.

  “This wasn’t…part of the…forfeit,” she managed.

  “Wasn’t it? You knew it was, darling.”

  He slipped down her drawers, hands cupping the globes of her bottom, parting her thighs. His fingers slid between them, finding the slick core of her, feeling her tremble.

  She clenched her muscles about him, moving to gain the most pleasure, and he knew he couldn’t wait. Hastily he freed himself and thrust deep inside her, all the way, and groaned aloud with the exquisite pleasure of it. She pushed back against him, gasping. And in the green, secret shadows of the old maze, with one arm about her waist, the other cupping her breast, he took them both to sensual heaven.

  “Miss Dupre!” Sir James Trevalen rose from a chair in the parlor, smiling in greeting.

  It was morning of the following day, and when Mary had come upstairs to inform her that Sir James was there to see her, she’d immediately imagined the worst.

  “Sir James.” Her eyes were round behind her glasses. “Have you come to tell me you’ve arrested the man who—”