by Aileen Fish
She nodded, hoping Graelem truly did know him as well as he thought, but she couldn’t dwell on their hasty marriage or any regrets Gabriel might have over it. “What do Lord Malinor and his son stand to gain by harming Gabriel?”
“We were having difficulty outsmarting the French lately, and Gabriel was beginning to suspect that someone close to the Crown was betraying our plans. Lord Malinor is in Prinny’s inner circle. I have no doubt now that he and his son must have been feeding Napoleon’s agents sensitive information.”
Daisy’s mind was whirling in confusion. “Why would they do such a thing?”
Graelem sighed. “Arrogance. Desire for power. Who knows what Napoleon promised them? Likely control of England once we were conquered by the French.”
“Why did Auguste ask for my hand in marriage? How in heaven do I fit in with their diabolical plans?”
Graelem shrugged. “Perhaps he thought you knew more about Gabriel’s mission than you let on, or he was simply trying to rile Gabriel into making a mistake.” He grabbed Daisy’s hand before she took off to save her husband. “Once you deliver the warning, get back here before your family realizes you’re missing. Gabriel ought to be in Harwich by now. He’s to sail on a vessel called The Golden Fleece, set to leave for France shortly after first light.”
Laurel let out a scream and Graelem’s thoughts were no longer on his cousin. No matter, Daisy knew what she had to do. Find Gabriel. Hand him the note and tell him to wait in Harwich for further instructions. She made a quick calculation in her head and realized it would indeed be close, but Brutus would make it if they left immediately.
She ran to the guest quarters she’d taken over during her stay and hastily changed into the rough, homespun trousers and jacket she wore when taking Brutus for his morning run, allowing her to ride astride the beast. She braided her hair and tucked it securely under her cap before running to the stable. Rose would have roused the head groom by now and ordered him to saddle Brutus and a mount for Amos.
Although riding with Amos would slow her down, she knew it was too dangerous for her to ride alone. Indeed, she would have only the moonlight and an occasional torchlight to guide her path and couldn’t risk injuring Brutus over the uneven terrain. Once the first rays of sunlight peeked over the hills, she’d give Brutus free rein and let the stallion fly.
She took the snorting beast from the sleepy groomsman with a muttered thanks.
“Young Amos is saddling Defiance, a good horse, but nowhere near as fast as Brutus. I’ll help the lad out, if ye’ll excuse me, Miss Daisy.”
“Of course.” She heard Defiance kick against the wooden boards of his stall and knew that he’d be a handful for poor Amos. Perhaps he wasn’t the best choice of escort, but he was a loyal and diligent retainer, and an adequate horseman.
She turned her attention back to Brutus, who was growing impatient. So was she, and scared that she might fail. There were no rules in Lady Forsythia’s book about saving a rake’s life. Her stomach was churning with the grinding persistence of a butter wheel. A wrong turn, the slightest mistake, or smallest obstruction would bring disaster.
Refusing to allow doubt to overcome her, she continued to speak softly to the skittish horse. “I’m relying on you. All of England is relying on you. Can you manage it?”
The beast’s nostrils flared and he snorted in indignation.
“Good, for you had better run faster than you’ve ever done in your life.” She patted his neck, still speaking softly as she reached for a knife atop a table laden with tools. “I’ll take one of those.” She hoped she wouldn’t have to use the skills Graelem had taught her.
“What are you doing?” a voice asked from behind her.
She whirled, now clutching the weapon firmly in her hand. “You!” The ugly man she’d seen with Gabriel at the Newton lecture and seen again in the park on the day of the shooting incident stood before her.
The blasted assassin wasn’t going to stop her. She’d cut him to ribbons first. But as she started toward him, Billings lumbered into the stable, barely able to catch his breath. “Stop! Miss Daisy! He’s on our side!”
“No, get back! He’s dangerous.”
Billings stepped between her and the man. “Lord Graelem forgot to tell you about Major Brandt. That’s why he sent me after you.” He clutched his chest and took several deep breaths. “Major Brandt has been following you at Lord Gabriel’s urging.”
“Since when?” She hadn’t noticed him other than at the lecture and again at the park.
“I’ve been assigned to you since the Newton lecture,” Major Brandt said, raising his hands to show he held no weapon, obviously still concerned about the one she held tightly in her hand.
“He’s safe. He’s one of us,” Billings assured her, for she had yet to loosen her grip.
“That’s right, Miss Daisy. Or should I call you Lady Dayne? That’s why you noticed me in the park. I was watching over you.”
She eased her stance and lowered the weapon which she still held in a death grip. “You did a dismal job of it.”
“The Duke of Wellington said much the same thing when I reported the incident to him,” the ugly man said, taking a hesitant step forward, his eye on the gleaming blade. “Lord Gabriel warned me that you were a handful. Smart as a whip and curious as a kitten, that’s what he said about you. Now, would you mind telling me where you’re going at this late hour?”
She quickly related what Graelem had told her.
Major Brandt ran a hand through his wispy, black hair. “Goodness! We’d better ride fast.”
“We?”
“She might not look it, but my Emily’s much sturdier than Defiance, and I’m a far better rider than Amos. Let the lad stay here, for he’ll only delay us and every minute is precious. Indeed, we had better leave for Harwich now. I’ll keep up as best as I can. You’re the only one with a prayer of reaching Lord Gabriel before he sails.”
He attempted to take hold of Brutus’ reins, then quickly backed away as Brutus lunged forward to bite him. “We’re on the same side, you devil!”
Chapter 20
A lady must never play the wanton for a rake, even in the marriage bed, for a rake desires a traditional wife, a woman of demure and obedient aspect, not a wanton repository of his unbridled lust.
Daisy urged Brutus along the sodden ground, thankful the skies were clear. She had a full moon to illuminate her path and meant to take full advantage.
She pushed Brutus as fast as she dared, remembering to keep to the left of the sea breeze and follow the river into the seaside town of Harwich. Once there, she needed to find the Three Cups Inn.
A cool wind pricked at her cheeks and she felt her ears beginning to numb. Her legs were also stiff and aching. No doubt Major Brandt was feeling equal discomfort as he struggled to keep up. She patted the parchment tucked in the breast pocket of her jacket to make sure it was secure. Graelem had related its contents and she’d memorized it, but Gabriel would want to see it for himself. Major Brandt had more stunning news of his own to deliver besides the collapse of this mission. Napoleon was marching north to Paris faster than anyone thought possible, crushing Marshall Ney’s troops... those who hadn’t promptly deserted to Napoleon’s side. The little general would soon be in full control of France, certain to rally the French citizens for another Continental war.
The road to Harwich was unfamiliar and not as well traveled as many in England, but Graelem had drawn up a rough map with excellent guide markers. Daisy picked up speed at daybreak, the beast’s hooves barely touching the ground as they galloped northward then east along the river that marked the final leg of her journey. She’d lost sight of Major Brandt at least an hour ago, but knew he’d catch up to her eventually at the inn.
Gabriel would be furious that she’d braved the final leg of the journey entirely on her own, but he’d understand the necessity once he calmed. In any event, she was too cold and wet from this morning’s sudden rain shower to concern h
erself with his response. What mattered was reaching the Three Cups Inn before his ship sailed.
Daisy was exhausted and about ready to tumble out of her saddle by the time she entered the quiet town of Harwich and guided Brutus toward the docks. It was still too early for most decent people to be about. Those who were awake at this hour were scoundrels who had been drinking all night and were up to no good.
“Now, that’s a nasty-looking fellow,” she murmured to Brutus, avoiding the stare of one particularly unpleasant character. She tightened her grip on the riding crop, clenching it in her fist to use as protection if the need arose.
She had never used the crop on Brutus and never would. But she had purposely brought it along for protection against unsavory characters skulking in dark alleys, men like the blackguard she had just passed.
“Blast it, I think he’s following us.” She quickly moved on, daring to breathe a sigh of relief as she turned the corner and spotted a ship’s mast, sails unfurled in the near distance. She had to be near the inn.
“Please, let it be Gabriel’s ship,” she murmured and received a corresponding nod from Brutus.
“Where’d ye get that fine horse, lad?” a gap-toothed man sporting a tattoo on his arm and a sharp knife in his hand called out.
“None of yer business,” she called back, lowering the cap over her eyes and hoping neither her voice nor her face would give away her disguise. He’d mistaken her for a boy, for she sat astride Brutus and not sidesaddle as a proper female ought to. Riding sidesaddle would have been a ridiculous and dangerous way to travel the extended distance.
Daisy’s hands, which might have given her away, were hidden beneath a pair of worn leather gloves and her hair was still braided and securely pinned beneath the cap. Her baggy clothes, she fervently prayed, hid her tell-tale feminine curves.
“Give me that horse, ye peach-faced son of a whore.”
Several men now stepped out of the shadows, each more hideous looking than the next. Too late, Daisy realized she’d made a wrong turn and unwittingly entered a most dangerous alley. She whirled Brutus about, attempting to head back to the main street, but the men quickly surrounded her and tried to block her path.
She fought them off with her riding crop, striking one across the cheek and drawing blood. He let out an oath and came at her again. Brutus kicked out with his massive hooves. Men yelped and cursed, and ultimately cleared a path for the devil of a horse. She and Brutus had just cleared the last assailant when Daisy felt a sudden sharp pain at her thigh.
She didn’t stop to look, knowing there would be time to tend to the wound after she found Gabriel.
At last she saw the inn, recognizing it by its sign—three cups painted over the weathered doorway lintel—and rode behind the rough stone structure into its stable.
“Ye’re bleedin’!” the stableboy cried, his eyes popping wide at the sight of blood trailing down her trousers. “Stay put and I’ll get ye help.”
“No! I need to see Lord Dayne. Is he still here?”
“Yes, he’s—”
“Thank goodness! Take me to him right away.” She slid off Brutus, then let out a yowl as she landed on her injured leg.
“Lud, that must hurt! I’ll fetch clean cloths and some water.”
“No! Take me to Lord Dayne at once,” she insisted, though both her legs were aching from the hard ride and about to give way beneath her. Her left leg felt as if it were on fire.
“But there’s no—”
“Don’t argue with me!” She rested her weight on a bale of hay, leaning on it for support, and reached out to grab the stubborn boy, her intention to throttle him into obedience.
“But I can’t take you to him!”
“Why ever not?” Her head began to spin and a soft but persistent ringing started in her ears. Her vision began to blur. The lad now sported two heads and both were spinning.
“Because he’s right here,” Gabriel said, jumping down from the hayloft and stalking to her side. “Of all the bloody... foolish... stupid... you’d better have a damn good explanation for why you’re here—good Lord! Daisy, you’re hurt!”
“Lud, ye called ’im Daisy.”
Nausea built in her stomach. “Gabriel! Thank goodness!”
He opened his arms to her.
She took a step toward him and fainted.
***
“You can come in now, Gabriel. I’m decent,” Daisy called from inside her room, which had been his until she’d stormed back into his life in the most spectacular way this morning. Less than an hour had passed since he’d carried her in, set her on the bed and proceeded to remove her trousers over the complaints of the innkeeper’s wife.
“Sir! Now, see here! We run a respectable establishment. Won’t have such goings on under m’very nose,” the woman had threatened, following him into the room with raised fist, and suddenly silenced by the gruesome sight of Daisy’s thigh. “Lud! She’s been stabbed!”
“I have to stop the bleeding. Help me get her out of these wretched clothes,” he’d ordered, the additional coins thrown her way quickly stifling further protest.
Gabriel had thrown more coins about, to hire one of the serving girls to serve as Daisy’s personal maid, to order a warm bath and scented soaps brought up for Daisy, to provide for a steady stream of food and drink brought to her room, to provide wood for the fire needed to keep the room warm and protect her from the chilling sea breeze.
As she bathed, Gabriel had walked to the High Street to purchase Daisy a decent gown and shawl, shoes, stockings, and assorted delicate undergarments, handing the packages to the innkeeper’s wife to deliver to Daisy. “Here, my wife will need these.”
And now, he stood at her door, waiting for her to try on the new clothes and wondering how he would ever find the strength to part from her.
“Well, are you coming in?” Daisy called out hesitantly. “I’m decent,” she repeated.
He opened the door, took one step inside, and sucked in his breath. Oh, Lord... Lord, Lord. She stood by the window in a stream of sunlight, ruffling fingers through her damp, dark hair to dry it, and all he could think of was how much he’d enjoy running his own fingers through that incredibly long, lush mound, as well as over the two lush mounds presently concealed by the soft, blue shawl wrapped over her shoulders.
Decent? The thoughts whirling in his head were decidedly not that.
“What do you think?” she asked, holding out her hands and slowly twirling to show off her new gown. She tossed him the most beautiful smile, one that reached her vibrant blue eyes.
“What do I think?” he repeated numbly, relieved that she seemed able to put weight on her injured leg without apparent trouble. He’d never beheld a more beautiful female, never imagined anyone could stir his heart this powerfully. “You didn’t finish the plate of cheese and fruit I ordered brought up to you.”
She let out an adorable laugh. “The third plate you ordered sent up. I’m so stuffed, I can’t bear to look at another wedge of cheese or slice of apple. Gabriel, you’ve been far too extravagant in your care of me.”
“I don’t think so. You were bedraggled, quite mangy looking, really, when you first stumbled in here,” he teased.
She laughed again, picked up a hairbrush and, instead of throwing it at him—thankfully—began to brush her hair. His fingers itched to take the hairbrush from her hand and perform the task of putting order to those silky strands, but he decided against it since his hands were shaking and his heart was painfully lodged in his throat.
“I suppose I did look a mess, but cool water and a chunk of lye soap would have set me to rights as capably as a warm, scented bath, fragrant oils, and delicate soaps.”
“Those,” he said with a chuckle, softly closing the door and walking toward her, “were for my pleasure.”
She melted into his arms when he held them out to her. “Oh, Gabriel! I was so afraid I’d be too late to stop you from sailing to your death!”
He hugg
ed her tightly, lifting her so that they were eye to eye, her delectable body nestled against his hard frame. Her feet dangled off the floor since he was much taller than she. But she smelled so sweet, he realized, burying his face against her neck, loving the silky smoothness of her skin. He planted kisses along her neck, the little upturn of her chin, and finally, with desperate longing, upon her lips.
Also sweet. So very, very sweet.
She responded as he knew she would, had hoped she would, by circling her arms around his neck and parting her lips in welcome. “Lord, I can’t believe you’re here. I thought I’d never see you again,” he said, groaning against her mouth.
She pressed her warm lips to his, sighing softly as their mouths locked for another long, lingering embrace.
He loved the thickness of her hair, the way it fell in damp waves to her waist, the way it fell over his arms and shoulders, as if wrapping him in silk. “Gabriel, how much time do we have together?”
A lifetime, I hope. But he dared not think that far ahead. “Not much.”
There was little to be done. Ian and Major Brandt were already securing another ship. Once settled, he’d be on his way, perhaps on this same early tide. But first, he’d have to toss more coins to the innkeeper and his staff, to the stable hand, probably the shopkeeper and boot maker, to keep their mouths shut about Daisy’s presence here. Then he’d somehow have to return her to Graelem’s home with no one the wiser that she had ever left it. Major Brandt would be the one to accomplish that task. With good weather and a few hours of hard riding, the major could deliver Daisy back to London by nightfall.
“Then we’d better not wait,” Daisy insisted.
“For what?”
“Our magic moment.” There was a pink blush to her cheeks as she lowered her gaze and stared into his chest. “That’s how Laurel described her wedding night.”
Gabriel set her down gently so that her feet once more touched the ground, but kept his hands loosely about her waist. The war was just getting underway. As the son of a nobleman he might have bought his way out, but he wasn’t about to abandon Wellington at his most desperate hour. How was he to tell Daisy that his chances of returning from this mission were poor? Did he dare risk leaving her with child? Was that to be his legacy, a widow and a fatherless son left behind?