Conspiracy of Hearts

by Helen Dickson

  ‘Then let me set your mind at rest. My mother has land and property in the north. It is my intention to go there for a while.’

  Serena felt a sudden stirring of interest, realising how little she knew about him. ‘Your mother is alive?’

  He grinned. ‘Very much so.’

  ‘And she lives in Northumberland?’

  ‘No. At least, not all the time if it can be avoided. She hates the isolation of it. Since my father’s death she prefers to live in Edinburgh.’

  ‘When my uncle fails to find us, how do you know he will not direct his attention to the north?’

  ‘Lord Carberry knows very little about my mother’s estate in Northumberland, and besides,’ Kit murmured, a wicked gleam glimmering in his dark eyes and a cocksure grin lifting one corner of his lips, ‘he will need the instincts and the nose of a wolfhound to track us to where we are going.’

  He fell silent, leaving Serena to wonder with considerable apprehension at this place of such isolation he was taking her to.

  Gazing at the dancing flames licking feverishly at the logs, Kit was content to bask in the warmth, feeling comfortable with Serena’s company, despite her antagonism and shrewish tongue. He settled back, reluctant to resume their journey until the rain had abated.

  As she too basked in the glowing heat, Serena availed herself of the chance to take account of her companion. Her gaze leisurely observed his lean yet muscular thighs, and she allowed it to wander upwards over his padded breeches to his narrow waist and powerful shoulders, her eyes settling on his dark features. He had nothing wanting in looks or bearing. Mentally she tried imagining what it would be like to be loved by such a man. Exquisite sensations sped through her veins at the mere thought, but she squashed the wayward feelings with a determined frown, knowing it would do her no good to let her mind go wandering along those lines.

  Beneath lowered lashes she found herself meeting his gaze once more and flushed softly. The tug at his lips and the narrowing of his brooding dark eyes told her he had read her thoughts.

  ‘Please believe me when I tell you that I only have your welfare at heart,’ he said softly.

  ‘You have a strange way of showing it,’ she quipped.

  ‘Then I shall try harder, Serena,’ he murmured, ignoring the questioning lift of her brow at his use of her name. ‘We must both try to make the best of a situation not of our making.’

  Serena was not so easily mollified. ‘You are wrong, sir—’

  ‘My name is Kit. If we are to share each other’s company for a length of time, I think we should dispense with the formalities.’

  ‘Then if we are to remain here for a while I would be obliged if you would be quiet and let me rest. I am heartily sick of arguing. My bones ache and I am extremely tired. And I have no wish to venture out until the rain has stopped.’

  ‘I too am wearied of argument,’ said Kit, rising to his feet to go and have a word with the landlord. He stretched and yawned, respecting Serena’s need to rest. ‘It was a cursed hard ride. You are right to close your eyes. I, too, have no wish to travel farther in this confounded rain.’

  With her feet in the hearth, Serena settled back and closed her eyes to shut Kit out, but they flickered open when he rose, drawn to him by his sheer physical presence. For a moment she felt her resistance waver, but then she rebuked herself, bringing her mind to a grinding halt. For her peace of mind she must not let him get beneath her guard. On a sigh she closed her eyes and was soon drifting into the realms of sleep.

  After a brief rest Kit thought it was time to leave. Serena was sound asleep, her feet drawn up onto the settle and her head resting on her arm. Her hair tumbled about her face and her eyes were closed, her gold-tipped lashes lying like soft shadows on her rose-red cheeks. Her sweet lips were parted as she breathed softly, her chest rising and falling evenly beneath her doublet, which hid the tempting roundness of her breasts. As Kit was about to wake her he lingered, looking down at her in wonder, savouring this moment of peace and reluctant to wake her, when she would once more become an injured, hissing cat.

  Studying her carefully, Kit thought that in sleep she looked more like a child than a woman, harmless, innocent and uncommonly lovely. Although there were similarities between her and Dorothea, Dorothea’s qualities were of the pale kind, in sharp contrast to Serena, who was a vision of fire and beauty.

  Serena felt a hand on her shoulder and someone gently shaking her awake. Opening her eyes, she looked up into the dark, brooding eyes of her captor.

  ‘Come,’ he said gently. ‘It’s noon and time we were on our way.’

  Still extremely tired and aching in every limb, Serena forced herself to sit up and struggled into her boots. ‘Has it stopped raining?’ she mumbled tiredly, knotting her hair beneath her hat.

  ‘For now. We’ll find another inn before dark and bed down for the night.’

  Before Serena could utter another sound, Kit had picked up her now dry cloak and placed it around her shoulders. Mutely she followed him outside, coming awake the moment she felt the cold, icy blast of wind on her cheeks. Taking a deep breath, she mounted Polly and followed Kit out of the inn yard, continuing to head north towards Northumberland.

  Chapter Eight

  Northumberland lay between the Tyne and the Tweed and on a tilt towards the North Sea. Its countryside was of rivers and forests, where the Celts, Romans and Normans had all left their own particular mark. From the south the traveller was able to take in the whole of the north borderland of England, mile after mile over fell and vale, across the long ridges to Cheviot and the Solway, where streams and burns meandered in timeless grace between the hills and centuries old deep clefts.

  Kit and Serena had been travelling for five days, and the farther north they went the biting cold deepened. It was on one such night, at a busy hostelry in Teesdale, when Serena had her first alarming and embarrassing encounter with Kit. Retiring for the night, she was too exhausted to notice that she had drawn the attention of one of the patrons. With a keen interest the man had watched her eat her meal and say goodnight to her companion, taking particular note when he heard her say that she would see him in the morning.

  Serena was deep in slumber when the knocking began on her door. Responding with an objectionable groan, she pulled the covers up over her head, too tired to acknowledge it. When it persisted, her eyes heavy with sleep, she padded across the floor, shivering when she felt the cold air assault her bare flesh. Clad only in a shift, it was in moments like these when she would have given anything for the protection of a robe.

  Sounds of people still about drifted up to her from the ground floor of the inn, indicating that the hour could not be all that late. She yawned. It must be an important matter for Kit to feel the need to wake her—but, she thought with a feeling of annoyance, if it was his intention to share her bed, she would give him short shrift.

  Suddenly the door was thrust open and she fell back with a gasp. In the dim light a man pushed past her and shut the door. It was difficult to see who it was, but of one thing she was quite certain: it wasn’t Kit. Suddenly she was wide awake, outraged at the man’s audacity to force his way into her room. Breathing heavily, he made a grab for her, but she evaded his groping hands.

  ‘Come now,’ the man hissed as she moved away from him, eyeing him warily. ‘I’ve had my eye on you ever since you entered the inn.’

  ‘Get out of my room before I scream,’ Serena ordered through gritted teeth.

  ‘Nay—be nice to me, now,’ the man crooned, his tongue sloppy with drink. ‘I saw you downstairs and right fetching you looked in those boy’s breeches. Let’s see what tasty bits they concealed, shall we?’

  Breathing hard, the man lunged for her again. Anticipating his move, Serena made a dash for the door, but he reached out and grasped her hair, making her cry out in pain as he pulled her back, grabbing her round the waist, flinging her on to the bed and swooping down on her. A fierce struggle ensued between them. Serena lashe
d out and kicked him with all her strength, her stomach heaving at the stench of his sweat and the foul breath on her face.

  With panic born out of desperation, she managed to reach out and grasp a candlestick standing on a table beside the bed. Raising her arm, she hit her assailant hard on the head with the heavy object with utter disregard to the consequences, hearing him grunt before going limp against her.

  With her heart pounding and blood drumming in her ears, quickly Serena disentangled herself from his limbs and flew towards the door, pulling it open and dashing across the passageway to Kit’s room. Slipping inside, she pressed herself against the panels—and, at the sight that met her eyes, immediately wondered if she might not have jumped out of the pan into the fire by seeking this particular sanctuary.

  Kit was stark naked, having just finished washing. The candles burning in the room cast a mellow light around him, and he turned on hearing the door open, far from disconcerted when he saw Serena. Her skimpy shift outlined her perfect shape. Pressed against the door she was breathing hard, her face flushed and her hair a wild tangle about her bare shoulders. Kit stared at her, his eyebrows arched in surprise. In embarrassed confusion Serena quickly turned her head to avoid looking at his nakedness, and with a soft chuckle of amusement and casual unconcern, Kit picked up a towel and wrapped it around his waist.

  ‘I—I’m so sorry,’ Serena gasped, flaming tides of hot colour sweeping over her face. ‘Please forgive my intrusion.’

  ‘I’m surprised that you of all people would enter a gentleman’s bedchamber without knocking,’ Kit drawled. ‘As you can see—I wasn’t expecting you.’

  Serena didn’t want to see. She didn’t want to look at him at all, and she was thankful of the curtain of hair that hung down the side of her face, shielding her view. ‘There’s a man in my room,’ she blurted out. ‘When he knocked on my door I thought it was you.’

  Kit frowned, no longer smiling. ‘So you let him in?’

  She gulped and nodded. ‘Yes. He—he is an ill-mannered oaf and quite drunk. He tried to force himself on me—and we—we fought.’

  Kit immediately strode across to her and took her shoulders, gripping them hard, his expression grim. ‘Look at me, Serena,’ he demanded in a tone that prompted her obedience. Slowly she turned her head to look at him. ‘Did he hurt you?’

  She shook her head, oddly touched by his concern. ‘No. But I think I may have hurt him. I only hope I haven’t killed him.’

  Kit’s eyes narrowed speculatively. ‘Why? What have you done?’

  ‘I—I hit him on the head with a candlestick.’

  At the vehemence with which she spoke, Kit had great difficulty in repressing a grin. ‘Poor man. Had he known he was about to face a voracious hawk instead of a docile, domestic dove, he would have avoided your door like he would a thousand plagues. Wait here. I’ll go and see.’

  Drawing her to one side, he went out, just in time to see a man stumbling quickly away down the passageway groaning and holding his head as if all the serpents in hell had invaded his skull. Scowling, Kit watched the pathetic wretch go, sorely tempted to go after him and beat him to a bloody pulp for daring to lay hands on Serena, but he thought better of it. Nothing would be achieved by thrashing a drunken man and drawing attention to themselves.

  Kit returned to find Serena standing with her arms crossed firmly over her chest. ‘Rest assured that you did the man no harm,’ he told her, going to the window to draw the curtains. ‘He’s already stumbling down the passageway in search of his own chamber. In the morning when he wakes he will be unable to remember what hit him.’

  Unconsciously Serena’s eyes were drawn to Kit as he turned from her to pull at the curtains, her gaze settling on his back. She found herself admiring his wide shoulders and narrow hips with the towel draped snugly around them. The sight of his semi-nakedness caused her heart to quicken with excitement. The sinews of his bare back rippled as he moved, and there was a sensuality that sparked the hot blood within her. It was difficult for a young woman not to admire a man who was built with such perfect proportions as he was.

  Kit turned and caught her watching him. Meeting his level gaze, she flushed crimson and turned her head away. Slowly he moved towards her with a lopsided smile on his lips and a purposeful gleam in his dark eyes.

  ‘I’m happy to learn you would be willing to open your door to me, Serena—should I come knocking in the middle of the night,’ he murmured huskily, his eyes burning into hers as he reached out and lightly brushed away some wisps of her hair that clung to her face. ‘And you cannot really blame the man—whoever he was—for seeking you out, looking as you do. I can well understand how he felt.’

  ‘There’s no excuse for his behaviour,’ Serena retorted hotly, doing her utmost to hold on to her crumbling composure and keep her eyes above Kit’s waist. ‘And I trust you will not have need to come knocking on my door in the middle of the night. If you have anything to say to me it can wait until morning.’

  She walked past him towards the door, but suddenly Kit’s arm went round her and he pulled her back against his naked chest.

  ‘You don’t have to go,’ he said, his voice low and urgent.

  ‘I—I must.’

  ‘No, Serena,’ he murmured, turning her round to face him and slipping his fingers through the hair on either side of her face. ‘I have needs. I need you.’

  ‘Need!’ she gasped, seeing the workings of his mind and unable to say more, because at that moment he stopped her mouth with a kiss, shocking her senses alarmingly.

  Kit’s lips moved hungrily over hers, bruising and demanding, warming her to the core of her being, and beneath the onslaught of his fervour she felt herself go limp against him, feeling her body’s betrayal as it began to respond shamelessly. She felt his hand boldly slipping inside the neck of her low bodice and lightly cup and caress her warm breast, feeling and teasing the hard nipple between his fingers. His mouth left hers and travelled down her throat, finally coming to that object which was giving him so much pleasure. His mouth sought and caressed it, the heat of his lips scalding her through the thin protection of cloth.

  Again Kit found her lips, his hands moulding themselves to her buttocks and pressing her to him until she could no longer ignore the evidence of his burgeoning passion. The warmth of his naked flesh penetrated the delicate material of her shift, and as she felt his fingers grow bolder and begin raising the hem, she pulled back.

  ‘No, Kit,’ she gasped, her senses reeling. ‘It will serve no purpose.’

  ‘No?’ he said, his voice oddly strained, unable to hide his annoyance on finding his lusts thwarted. Her nearness had aroused him to such a pitch that he had a sudden need to rearrange his towel.

  Ignoring the plea in Kit’s dark, compelling eyes, Serena tore herself from him and returned to her room, locking the door and seeking the warm sanctuary of her bed once more. She struggled to blot all that had just happened from her mind—of the stranger’s pawing hands and the disgusting smell of him. But nothing could stop her thinking of Kit and how he had looked in his nakedness when she had entered his room. The magnificence of his masculine body had almost proved too much for her virgin eyes. His broad shoulders and muscular chest, his flat belly and his manhood, and every other disconcerting feature about his perfect body, had been scorched and were branded on her memory for all time

  On what Kit hoped would be their last night on the road they spent at an inn close to the church and the market place in Corbridge, a bustling trading town on the southern border of Northumberland. The town, approached from the south, appeared as a compact huddle of stone houses and slate roofs above the banks of the River Tyne, but as they drew closer it became clear to Serena that it was an important commercial centre—its trade, Kit explained, mainly in leather, hides and iron.

  Outside the inn Kit dismounted and helped Serena down. Usually when he offered his assistance she coolly and stubbornly rejected it, afraid of coming too close after that night in
Teesdale. But this evening, having ridden farther than during any of the days they had been on the road, she was more fatigued than usual and almost fell into his arms in her eagerness to find a bed, where she might creep beneath the feather comforters and sleep until dawn.

  The following morning Kit rose early and went to wake her, intending to make an early start. Usually she was up and ready to leave as soon as they had broken their fast, but this morning when he tapped on her door there was no answer. The door opened slightly at a push and he paused and looked inside, thinking she must have risen before him and gone downstairs, but the sight that greeted him made him catch his breath. Serena was only half dressed and humming a soft, lilting tune as she washed herself over a bowl.

  Her arms and shoulders were bare, her thick auburn tresses fastened on her head in wild confusion. Rubbing soap on to her creamy skin, she was so absorbed in her task that she was unaware of Kit’s presence. Utterly bewitched and enchanted he stood perfectly still, unable to drag his eyes away from this treasure that was indeed a sight for sore eyes. Everything about her was untamed and passionate, and every move she made was a sensual invitation to his starved senses.

  What little there was of her shift moulded itself to her body with endearing delight, and Kit’s eyes devoured the loveliness she displayed, every nerve in his body coming alive and responding to her as she leaned over the bowl to wash her face. His gaze followed tiny droplets of water as they trickled slowly down her throat and disappeared between the curves of her fully ripened breasts, their roundness and rosy peaks invitingly exposed and beckoning his hungry gaze as her skimpy white bodice scooped open to reveal all.

  Remembering what it had been like to feel and kiss those exquisite orbs, Kit felt a rush of blood to his temples and his stomach quivered. Unaware of his quiet watchfulness, Serena reached for the towel and began rubbing herself dry, still humming softly to herself. Kit was tempted to rush inside and clasp her in a fierce embrace but, knowing she would explode in a storm of rage for daring to look at her in her state of undress, he smiled crookedly and stepped back.