China Rose

by Canham, Marsha

  "How dare you stop this carriage! Where is my driver? Where is my valet?"

  "Your driver?" The taller of the two mimed the question and chuckled. "Did ye hear that, lad? His Lordship has a spot of kindness in his soul after all."

  Ranulf strained to see past the dull circle of light thrown off by the carriage lamp, but he could see nothing of his attackers beyond the looming proximity of their pistols.

  "Don't worry guv. They'll 'ave n'owt more than a lump on their noggins to worry over come morning. Better than what ye'll fare if ye don't 'and over yer purse."

  A gloved hand reached out and the fingers wagged in an impatiently demanding gesture. Ranulf cursed, looking once more at the deserted road ahead and behind, his gaze lingering a moment on the distant twinkling lights of Portsmouth. He reached beneath cloak and withdrew a soft kidskin money pouch.

  "Here, take it and be gone," he spat angrily. "And God help either one of you if you cross my path again."

  The one who caught the purse hefted it, making the coins inside clink softly. "Feels a bit light, guv. You sure you're not carryin' more? How about that fancy ring, f'rinstance. And the watch 'n fob."

  Ranulf glared, but stripped the enormous ruby ring from his finger. He was fumbling in an attempt to jerk the watch and fob out of his waistcoat pocket when the taller of the two thieves stepped up and slammed him back against the side of the coach. Expert hands freed the watch and the long gold chain and that might have been the end of it had the bulging envelope in Ranulf's jacket pocket not caught his keen eye.

  "What's this then? 'Oldin' out on us, are ye?"

  Ranulf acted instinctively. He lashed out with the ebony walking stick, ramming the carved ivory lions head into the robber's solar plexus, then slashing it sideways to send the pistol spinning off into the darkness. A grunt of surprise and pain brought the man doubling forward, ripe for a third swing of the heavy cane. This time the blow caught him on the cheek, dislodging part of his mask and nearly punching straight into the eye socket. Ranulf was setting his stance for the finishing blow when he felt cold metal stab into his cheek and heard the distinct snick of a flintlock being cocked.

  While the first man staggered back, cursing and trying to catch his breath, the second coldly and calmly dug the barrel of the pistol deeper into Ranulf's cheek.

  "Now that weren't very nice. Or very smart." The walking stick was kicked out of Ranulf's fingers and the pistol was ground into his cheek, forcing him to press his head back against the coach. "Flick an eyelash, guv, and it'll give me all the excuse I need to pull the trigger."

  "I say pull it anyway," the second man gasped, his hand cradling his bleeding cheek.

  "That weren't the deal." The gloved hand shoved Ranulf's cape aside and patted down the pockets of his jacket, finding the stuffed envelope and bringing it out into the dull light. He thumbed open the flap and saw the wad of bank notes. "Well now," he said with a soft whistle. "What 'ave we 'ere?"

  "You will never get away with this," Ranulf spat. "By God, you will never get away with this!"

  The pistol shoved deeper into his cheek. "Looks to me like we already have, guv."

  "Try to spend a single note and the constables will be on you like fleas on a dog. You have one chance. One chance only. Take the purse, the ring and the watch and ride away."

  The thief leaned close enough for Ranulf to smell harsh cigar smoke on his breath. "Aye, we'll be ridin' away. An' we'll be thankin' ye for a damned fine night's haul."

  With that, he shifted his grip on the pistol and swung it up and sideways, striking Ranulf on the temple. The world remained clear and in focus for a split second longer before his knees collapsed and his body slumped heavily to the dirt road.

  The thieves took a last perfunctory look inside the coach before vanishing into the darkness, leaving the three unconscious men sprawled across the road.

  CHAPTER NINE

  China shivered as an icy finger of dampness trailed across her neck and slithered down her back. High above the treetops the clouds were scudding by like an armada of ghostly galleons, chased by the rising wind. There was no moon in the night sky, but above the clouds the velvet blackness was a sea of bright stars.

  She had decided to take some air in glorious solitude. The pathway leading through the formal gardens into the maze had fast become a place of quiet retreat for her, especially after dusk when Lady Prudence declared, in high authority, that the night vapors were harmful for one's health.

  Sir Ranulf was expected home this evening; he had sent word earlier in the day that he would be pleased to take supper with his fiancée. Seven o'clock had passed, eight had followed, nine had come and gone with no sound of a coach along the graveled drive and China had sought the solace of the garden rather than have to listen to Lady Prudence's seemingly endless lectures on the trials and tribulations of married life.

  She was sincerely enjoying the sound of the fragrant silence when she approached the semi circle of stone steps leading down into the rose garden. This marked her usual turning point and she was reluctantly starting back toward the brightly lit mansion when she heard rustling sounds and caught a slight movement out of the corner of her eye. It startled her enough to cause her to take an awkward step to the left. Her skirt brushed against the balustrade and snagged on a rough stone edge.

  Justin Cross stepped forward out of the shadows, leaned over and freed the silk.

  "Miss Grant. A somewhat surprising pleasure to find you out here alone. I gather you do not share your watchdog's fear of night vapors?"

  China lowered her hand from her throat and drew a calming breath. "I do not know what you're talking about, Sir. I have no watchdogs."

  He chuckled softly. "No? I suppose your unsuspecting nature does not permit you to think of them as such, but the Dragon Lady and Lady Stalwart rarely let you out of sight or sound. For several days now, I've not seen you without one or the other hovering close by."

  "I was not aware my activities interested you. Indeed, I have not seen you about the house at all."

  "And that distresses you?" He grinned. "I am flattered you noticed."

  "I have noticed only the peace and quiet in your absence," she countered smoothly. "And I would beg you not to be flattered, Sir. I have spared you no more than a passing thought."

  "A pity, then, for I think of you a great deal. May I assume you have had no more late night visitors to your room? No...uninvited ones at any rate?"

  "I keep my door locked," she said coldly.

  "And of course, I have not been home much."

  "The coincidence is remarkable."

  He stepped closer so that he was no longer completely hidden by the shadows. He was dressed casually in dark trousers and a white linen shirt. The jacket of dark brown cord which he had been carrying slung casually over his shoulder, he donned but left unbuttoned.

  "Would you care to take a stroll into the maze with me? Traversing it by starlight would be likened to a game of blindfolds."

  His grin was charming but China remembered Eugene Cross's warning. Two blackened eyes and a loss of virtue...

  "Thank you, no," she said and gathered the edges of her shawl closer.

  "Ah, still afraid I might take advantage of you?" He chuckled seeing the expression on her face. "My, my, how they have been filling your lovely head with unkind notions. Truth be told, I never take unfair advantage of an innocent such as yourself, and I rarely throw anyone on the ground to have at them in the middle of rainy season. Indeed, I only wished to talk away from the eyes and ears of the house, so to speak."

  She glanced around, seeing no other eyes or ears about. "It would seem safe enough to talk right here. Not that I can begin to imagine what you would want to talk to me about."

  "The rose garden, at least," he said, crooking his head and widening that charming smile. "The fragrance this time of night is remarkably sublime."

  China hesitated one last heartbeat's length then swished her skirts as she turned and desc
ended the wide, circular stone steps that lead down into the rose garden. When the glow from the Hall windows was blotted out by tall shrubs, she heard Justin laugh softly.

  "They do breed trusting young ladies in Devonshire," he said. "Look how easily I have lured you away from the beaten path."

  China stiffened. "Mr. Cross--!"

  He raised his hands at once in a gesture of mock defense. "Forgive me, I could not help myself. A jest only, Miss Grant, nothing more. Upon my honor, you are as safe here with me as...as you would be locked in your bedchamber. Although, speaking on that issue, Ran has, of course, told you there are secret passageways and false panels all through the house? They tend to render locked doors useless as a deterrent."

  "Passageways? No, he has not."

  "Most of these old estates are riddled with them. A testimony to the state of affairs when they were built. Kidnappings, plots to overthrow governments, politics, religion, smuggling ventures...all required a measure of subterfuge as well as a method of quick escape should the Roundheads ride up to the door. My God, but you are lovely in the starlight, Miss China Grant. It is a shame you feel obligated to truss your hair up like that. The other night, when it was loose about your shoulders, I must admit the sight nearly took my breath away. But what was I saying? Oh yes, the passageways. I myself have used them on ore or two occasions and can attest to the fact that they are quite convenient for moving about the house unseen."

  "Are you suggesting there is another way into my room other than the door?"

  "I can even show you where it is, if you like. And how to get from your room across the hallway into mine, should the need ever arise."

  "Mr. Cross," she flushed and took a step back toward the stairs and the better-lit path. "You are once again taking liberties which--"

  "I am taking nothing, Miss Grant. I am merely seeking to point out to you that if I wanted to gain entry to your room, I would hardly have risked going in or out the main door to the hallway."

  China's mouth, which had remained open through the interjection, closed slowly as she contemplated his logic. She thought she ought to comment or point out some argument against his reasoning, but in truth she could think of none.

  "Do I detect the possibility that you believe me now? Even, dare I think it, trust me a little?"

  "I don't know why I should," she said at length.

  He laughed. "I don't know either. But I think you do."

  "I suppose everyone in the house is aware of these so-called secret passages?"

  "On the contrary. I doubt if anyone other than Ran and myself know. I made the discovery quite by accident when I was a mere adolescent left alone in the schoolroom. The tutor was an annoying old prig, and on this particular occasion, locked me inside to do extra work while he went and indulged in a sup of ale. I was...a bit rebellious you could say, and locked doors still tend to rouse my temper.

  "At any rate, whilst I was kicking things and attempting to break every stick of furniture in the schoolroom, I discovered an opening in the wall behind a bookcase. Within the week I had found several more, which opened up a whole new world of intrigue and mischief-making for me. Ran eventually found out because I was pressed to explain once how I managed to be in two places at apparently the same time. Eugene? Possibly he knows, but I couldn't say for sure. He's an odd one at times, always was. It's hard to tell what he knows and what he only pretends to know. I suspect he was dropped on his head as a child."

  "Why are you telling me all of this?"

  Justin reached out and plucked a dark bloom from one of the nearby rose bushes. "To be honest, I hadn't planned on doing so." He picked the thorns off the branch then twirled the rose between his fingers. "Perhaps I thought you should be better prepared."

  "Better prepared? For what?"

  "For the Crosses. All of us. Ran, Eugene--he has quite a reputation with the ladies in his own right--and admittedly even myself. We all have larceny in our souls. I would hate to see you walking into something with your eyes completely shut."

  "I assure you, Sir, they are wide open."

  "And rather lovely," he said softly. "In daylight, or by starlight."

  China drew a deep breath. She had been aware for some time of her heart beating faster and her skin flushing warmer. She watched the rose spinning in the strong fingers and felt a similar spinning in her own senses. That first night in the parlor, she had thought him a handsome rogue, and seeing him daylight had only strengthened that impression. His features were rugged, weathered from life on board a ship, and his hands...good gracious...they were strong enough to hoist sails and wield a sword, yet gentle enough to caress the rose petals without bruising them.

  What would they feel like caressing tender flesh?

  Such thoughts were unexpected and she was thankful the starlight was helping to conceal the visible evidence of her nervous trembling.

  "Do I still frighten you?"

  Her gaze flew up to his face and she had the distinct impression that he had just read every thought that had gone through her mind.

  "I...I think I should go back to the house now. Ranulf is expected any moment and--"

  "And we must not keep Ranulf waiting," he murmured, holding her eyes with his.

  She felt an almost physical touch as he took a step closer. A flutter of excitement rippled down her spine but try as she might, her feet refused to acknowledge her command to move.

  Justin dropped the rose. His arm snaked around her waist and he pulled her against his body, bending his lips to hers in a kiss that set her heart pounding within her chest. His was nothing like the polite firmness of Sir Ranulf's initial embrace. This was an insistent, burning, lustful demand that brought the sky down and the earth up and the night air swirling around them. There was no point trying to struggle free. Even if her arms had found the strength to do so, he had had pinned as helplessly and as effectively as a butterfly against a pane of glass. Pinned in such a way as to feel every taut, steely band of muscle in his arms and across his chest. Her hands ceased their feeble efforts to push against the wall of his chest and she felt the shawl slip to the ground, baring her shoulders and throat to his touch.

  His free hand slid up and cradled her neck as the kiss deepened. China heard someone whimper and realized the sound had come from her own throat. The heat of his body was almost as intoxicating as the feel of his lips pressing, coaxing, parting her own so that his tongue could slip through her lips and lash hers with a seductive challenge. He tasted faintly of rum and cigars, but not unpleasantly so.

  China felt her knees come close to buckling under the shock of the unexpected tremors that raced through her body. She was not even aware of her hands sliding up to his shoulders, or of her mouth responding to his with growing passion, brazenly meeting and matching each invasive thrust. And when at last he lifted his mouth to end the assault, she was not the only one thrilled by the kiss; his eyes clearly betrayed his own surprise.

  "Your father named you well, China Rose," he murmured. "So cool and composed at first glance, but when the petals are touched..." His fingertips brushed her cheek and he started to lower his mouth to hers again.

  "Please," she gasped. "Please, you must let me go."

  "Oh...I think not." His lips claimed hers again. His hand stroked gently along the curve of her throat and down onto her shoulder, ignoring the small moan of protest as his fingertips followed the edge of her bodice and brushed teasingly at the soft flesh mounded there. His kisses were hot and moist as they abandoned her mouth again and searched out more sensitive places...places that ached, suddenly, to be found.

  "You are trembling." He breathed warmly against the pulse-beat just below her ear and let his tongue trace a long line down to her shoulder. "Do you tremble this way when Ran holds you? Do you quiver and kiss him the way you kiss me?"

  China's eyes flew open. His lips were almost at the top of her breast when she pushed out and managed to break free. Her skin was burning from his touch and her mouth not y
et cooled from his invasion. Her chest heaved and her breath came in short snatches as she sought words scathing enough to convey her fury.

  "How dare you! You are despicable, Justin Cross! You bandy the words trust and honor about as if they were mere playthings! You, a slaver who thinks nothing of profiting from the buying and selling of human flesh! Yet you dare mock others? You mock and betray a man who strives to uphold the laws of this land, the laws of common decency? A man who provides you with a roof over your head when you need it, unlike others who would likely bar the doors against you. You are the vilest, lowest form of an ingrate and blackheart I have ever had the displeasure to meet, and my dearest hope is that I shall never have to see you again!"

  With the words still echoing in the night air, she whirled and fled back along the garden path, back toward the lights and safety of the house. She glanced back once or twice but there was no sign of pursuit and for that at least she was thankful. She still could not fathom what had come over her, what had caused her to lose control over her senses that he could kiss and fondle her like some cheap tavern harlot.

  She arrived on the terrace badly shaken and flushed, one hand cradled over her midsection to help her catch her breath through the tightness of her corset. Tendrils of raven hair had escaped the chignon and trailed down her neck; there was a small splash of mud on the hem of her gown where she had stepped off the path in her haste to get out of the gardens.

  Her heart was still beating wildly in her chest as she forced herself to walk calmly and slowly through the tall double doors leading into the drawing room. She smoothed her pelisse as she went, tucked a stray curl of hair behind her ear, and hoped her lips did not look as kiss-swollen as they felt.

  She need not have worried. None of the occupants of the room even noticed her as she entered. They were too busy staring at Sir Ranulf Cross as he poured himself a large glass of whiskey--not the first as far as China could tell.