What the devil was wrong with him? It was only her knee—a knee covered by trousers no less.
And the touch more erotic than on a naked concubine in a harem. This was Ari.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked, as he pulled the boot free.
“No!” she blurted.
His gaze swung up to her face, and she forced a smile. The boot removal had affected her as much as him. How would he ever make it through the night? He frowned slightly and then set to work on the other boot, holding her other knee and reigniting the heart palpitations all over again.
She made another swipe at the coverlet with her palms and almost fell over sideways. He fought back a grin. Misery loved company, and the sight of her flushed cheeks and bright eyes caught his breath in his throat.
Jared straightened and placed the second boot by the first next to the bed. “Are you feeling all right? You look a bit flushed. Maybe the ride was too much for you.”
He leaned in and placed the back of his hand against her forehead, ostensibly to check for a fever, and she whimpered at his touch. The intimate sound had his mouth feeling dry as sand, and he desperately wanted to touch more than her forehead.
His gaze locked with hers. Her eyes darkened.
Oh no. This could be trouble. A misstep here could ruin her…Or keep me here forever.
Still he did not move his hand. His gaze held hers. “You feel warm.”
He heard his voice go low and raspy.
Great. Let her know she has the upper hand.
Was she warm or was he? Every vein and artery in his body pulsed with the need he had denied since the day he’d met her.
“I’m fine,” she said softly.
He had to fight this magnetism, or he would have her ruined in short order.
“Are you?” He leaned closer.
Her look of befuddlement tugged at his heart, and he fought the lust roiling in his chest. He couldn’t read the look in her eyes. Did she want him, too? Oh, what did it matter unless he kissed her?
She leaned forward, whispered, “I think so.”
“Let me check.” He pressed his lips to hers.
Every nerve ending in his body exploded with pleasure. Primal desire had overwhelmed him in the taproom after he had saved her from the drunken farmer, his primitive nature taking the lead.
My lady. Mine.
He had not thought twice. Jumped in like the knight in shining armor she raved on about. He had wanted to be her knight.
His lips did not plunder, as she no doubt expected. He gentled his kiss so as not to frighten her, locked together in this room as they were. He brushed his lips across hers, caressed, hoping to make her want him half as much as he wanted her. He leaned back to stare into her eyes. He shouldn’t have started this. He would not be able to stop.
“This way lies disaster,” he rasped, “for both of us.”
“Maybe,” she said breathlessly, “but could I please have another?”
His sweet, beautiful little Ari asking please for one more kiss. As though she asked for a bit of candy. This time his mouth plundered—a real kiss. His tongue swept past her lips, and she welcomed the invasion, tangling her own in a wild dance with his. His palms slid up her slender arms and cupped her cheeks to hold her in place, so he could make indiscriminate love to her mouth. His heart pounded. His skin tingled gloriously.
She tugged both fists into his shirt to pull him closer, and he groaned. He felt her tiny hands at his shirt buttons, and he made no move to stop her. The feel of her delicate hand as she pressed her palm to his chest made his head—and cock—ready to explode.
That single act seemed to stir him from his single-minded assault of her luscious bow-like mouth. The feel of her small hand on the naked skin of his chest was like an open flame burning a brand. He jerked back and pulled her hands free of his shirt. Her innocent pursuit of pleasure was more glorious than making love with any of the women in his past, or rather his future—none of whom were all that innocent.
“We can’t.” His voice sounded hoarse with want and need.
“Why ever not?”
“You’re not thinking straight, Ari. This way lies disaster.”
“So you said.”
“I will not be able to stop in a very few minutes.”
“I don’t want you to stop.” She reached for the opening in his shirt again, apparently blind to everything but the need to feel him close, skin to skin.
Jared gently took her shoulders and set her back. “I am sorry.”
“Sorry?”
“I should not have kissed you.”
“Y-you didn’t want to?”
He hated how that hurt look in her eyes stabbed at his conscience. Hell, yes, he wanted to kiss her. How could he just stop, knowing he would hurt her feelings? He would surely lose his mind if he stopped now, but he had no choice.
“I…I haven’t been with a woman in a long time,” he lied.
“So any woman would do?” She scooted back across the bed, but not before he saw the sparks flare in her emerald eyes.
“Apparently,” he said, piling on another lie and letting the guilt take another swipe at him.
She gasped, and his guilt increased tenfold. Damnation. What if he had struck her heart a shattering blow? He needed to get out of here. Take a walk. Cool down.
“It’s time for my watch,” he said flatly.
Ari tucked herself into a ball on the far side of the bed, and he felt like a dung heap waiting to be shoveled from the stable. He rose to his feet and started for the door. She drew the coverlet up and over her and threw the extra pillow at his feet.
“When your watch is over, take the floor or the chair,” she said, without moving.
He picked up the pillow and tossed it in the rocker near the window—his apparent bed for the night. If he had played his cards right, he could have at least slept alongside her in the bed all night.
Maybe.
Possibly.
Oh, who was he kidding? He sighed. No way in hell could he do that and keep his hands to himself.
“Fine. I am going to take a walk around the inn. Check the outside.”
She sat up suddenly. “Alone?”
After how he had acted—taken advantage of her, hurt her—she still worried about him. She looked so damned beautiful, her green eyes gone tender with concern. He had to fight not to reach for her again. What in heaven’s name was wrong with him? He had lost all control where Ariana Hart was concerned.
He shook himself.
Get out. Get that walk and clear your head.
He picked up his sword cane and stuck his pistol in his waistband. “Lock the door behind me. Do not open it for anyone but me.”
“Be careful,” she whispered as he pulled the door shut behind him. He waited until he caught the snick of the lock before heading toward the back stairs.
He halted a moment at the landing near the outer door to regain his focus. He wouldn’t be much good on watch without his head screwed on straight.
Why did I kiss her? I know better. I knew this would happen. This path means disaster.
He had let himself get too close and then had to hurt her to pull back to safer territory. But her lips were like a drug, drawing him in and dulling his control. He glanced back at the door to their room, and his gut twisted. He had already hurt Ari’s feelings by leaving her in there without a word of explanation on his part. If any other man had done to her what he had done tonight, Jared would have pounded the man to pulp. So who would pound on Jared?
He loosed another disgusted sigh. He was doing a good job of that himself and would no doubt continue through the long night ahead. Or he would have, save for the men who grabbed him the minute he stepped onto the outside stairs.
Chapter Fourteen
What had just happened?
One minute Jared was kissing her as though she was the most desirable woman in the world, and the next minute, he let her go. Told her any woman would do.
No.
Not true.
Ari refused to believe that. She may be naïve and have no real experience kissing men, but her instincts were as sharp as those of any woman. Jared had kissed her with the tenderness and desire of a lover—or what she had imagined a lover might do. His voice had gone husky, and his cheeks had grown warm. Her fingers still tingled from the touch to his cheeks. Both had labored for their next breath when they pulled apart.
Would any woman do?
No.
Plenty of women would have allowed him far more liberty. Dash it—she had been willing to allow him more liberty. She had lost control as much as he had.
But Jared had been the one to pull back.
Because he cared?
No matter what he said or how sweet he acted now, once his memory returned he would go back to being the wastrel and rakehell of old. His memory loss had only let others see the man he could become if he applied himself. She had to remember that. His parting words had stung, words expected of the old Jared. But what if his memory never returned? What if he remained this new Jared?
She recalled the pain in his eyes as he closed the door, eyes that said he hadn’t meant his hurtful parting words. That was the new Jared, and she didn’t want him to feel a shred of guilt over kissing her. She wanted more kisses—dozens more kisses. She wished she could go to him, tell him everything was all right.
The faint barking of a dog sounded from the direction of the stables. Was Harry in trouble? Would Jared hear and check on his dog? She flew to the window and could just make out the bottom of the outside stairs through the grimy glass. Using the cuff of her shirt, she wiped a clean space and pressed her nose to the cold glass.
And went cold all over.
Three men dressed in dark clothing had Jared closely surrounded at the bottom of the stairs. They were talking to him, but she could not see their faces to tell if all was friendly. Were they the hostlers for the inn? The biggest man turned and a shaft of moonlight fell on his face—on the scar from his eye to his chin.
Dear God, it was Cochran! The highwayman who had tried to kill Jared in the garden!
Cochran’s arm came up, and he aimed a pistol at Jared. The second man yanked Jared’s arm up behind him, and the last man snagged Jared’s pistol from his waistband and seized his cane.
Ari frantically searched the room for a weapon. She had to help Jared. All she spied was the heavy pewter pitcher on the washstand. She grabbed it anyway and raced back to the window for another look.
Cochran held the pistol a foot from Jared’s heart. She gasped. He would not miss a second time and not at that close range. She had to do something.
Unhooking the window latch, she shoved hard on the sash. Years of dirt and grime wedged into crevices allowed only a few inches of movement. She had no time to waste. Swinging the pewter pitcher back, she smashed it into the windowpanes with all her might, cascading a shower of glass and splintered wooden bars to the ground. The volume of Harry’s barks exploded.
In her deepest voice, she hollered, “Unhand that man, or I will shoot you where you stand!”
Four faces turned up to stare at the window, and she heaved the heavy pitcher at the closest one.
****
Hands grabbed Jared’s arms and jerked him off his feet the moment he stepped onto the exterior landing. He lurched forward down the stairs, and the two men still clinging to him slowed his descent. Ferocious barking erupted from the direction of the stables. Had Bullen tethered the wolfhound there? Jared could not count on help from that quarter if the dog had been tied.
Stumbling off the final step, he fought to free himself of the two assailants and almost succeeded when he caught the distinct cocking of a pistol. He had spent enough time with his antique gun collection to recognize the sound.
“Move and yer dead!”
Jared turned and stared down the barrel of a ten-inch smoothbore flintlock pistol Cochran presently aimed at his chest. Jared had one in his collection and knew well the size of the hole that single-shot pistol could make. The cutthroats holding him turned out to be Slouch-hat of the curricle attack on his right and Red-kerchief Collins on his left.
Slouch-hat twisted Jared’s arm up hard behind his back, then told Collins to grab his pistol. Collins divested Jared of his weapon and shoved it in the waistband of his filthy knickers. Jared’s cane had come free in the scuffle and clattered down the stairs along with them, but Collins swept it up off the last step. Three men—two of them armed and him with nary a weapon—now held him captive.
Glass shattered overhead, and a somewhat youthful male voice yelled down, “Unhand that man, or I will shoot you where you stand!”
All heads gazed up toward the now-broken window, and Cochran barely had time to jerk his head back as a large pewter pitcher slammed his gun arm and sent the pistol flying.
When Cochran wailed in pain, Jared rammed his boot into Slouch-hat’s knee and forced him to the ground. The cane swung hard at Jared’s head. He ducked, then jerked free of a stunned Collins. Grabbing hold of the cane, Jared pounded a fist into Collins’s gut. The air whooshed from the man’s lungs in one gust, and he dropped to his knees alongside Slouch-hat.
The inn’s back door blasted open, and Dexter and Bullen barreled down the stairs trailing Ariana in their wake. Jared could not even roar his displeasure at her charging unprotected onto the scene.
No time. Killers to dispense with.
He bundled his anger into the facer he planted on Slouch-hat who had struggled to his feet and grabbed the end of Jared’s cane. The rogue dropped like a stone, his hat still on his head.
Jared yanked the cane free of the man’s now-limp grasp and turned to go after the other two, only to see that Dexter had tackled Cochran as he scrabbled across the inn yard dirt to grab his dropped pistol, and Bullen had wrenched Collins up by his collar and yanked it tight enough to cause the man’s eyes to bug out.
“Are you all right?” Bullen called, then gave the struggling Collins a teeth-rattling shake.
Dexter had Cochran’s flintlock pistol barrel wedged against the man’s cheek.
The situation had been contained, but Jared’s fear for Ariana rolled into anger, hard and hot. He charged over to her. “What the hell are you doing down here? I told you to stay in our room!”
She took exception to his overbearing tone, and that defiant chin came up—the one he normally adored, but not tonight.
“We told him to stay, too,” Bullen snapped before she could speak, quick enough to say him and not her in front of their audience. “Bloody lot of good that did.”
“Easy,” Dexter warned in a low growl. “We have more pressing matters at the moment.” He jabbed the pistol against Cochran’s cheek hard enough to make him wail and get their attention.
“What do we do with these two?” Bullen wanted to know.
“We shall take them all to London for questioning,” Dexter said, and his comment started Collins thrashing again.
“Cease!” Bullen ordered. “Unless you want to end up like your friend there.” He nudged Slouch-hat’s unconscious form with the toe of his boot.
The innkeeper burst through the back door, nightshirt half-tucked into his trousers. “What goes on here? That dog will wake me entire inn,” he demanded and stopped dead when he saw Dexter. “What happened, m’lord?”
“These men attacked us.”
The innkeeper gasped, “Gorblimey! I am so sorry, m’lord. Want I should call the magistrate?”
“No, we shall be taking them to London in the morning. Do you have a cellar where we could tie them up and hold them until then?”
“Aye, m’lord.” The innkeeper bobbed his head. “I’ll go fetch ye some rope.”
As the innkeeper disappeared inside, footsteps pounded across the inn yard. Jared turned a step too late, and Slouch-hat was already halfway to the woods behind the stables. The blighter had been faking!
Jared started after him, but Dexter called him back. “You
will never find him in those woods at night.”
“A fat lot of faith you have in me. I could use Harry to track him.”
“Dexter’s right,” Bullen cut in. “You would likely get yourself and Harry killed.”
Jared glared first at his traitorous brother and then at the woods, which had swallowed up his would-be assassin.
“We still have two of them.” Bullen gave Collins another neck-bobbling shake.
“Good Lord, you’re down here in your stocking feet!” Jared told Ariana, none too nicely. “We need to get you inside.” He grabbed her elbow and marched her toward the back door of the inn.
Dexter yanked Cochran’s arm and shoved him along in their wake, while Bullen and an oddly subdued Collins brought up the rear.
Halfway to the inn door, Cochran suddenly stumbled and started to go down, pulling Dexter off balance with him. As the two pitched forward, Cochran used his momentum to jerk the pistol from Dexter’s hand. Hitting the ground, the bastard rolled once and cocked the pistol in one continuous motion, then aimed at Jared who only had time to shove Ari behind him and out of the line of fire.
A loud boom sounded from the pistol, and Jared flinched, waiting for the pain or the end of his life at this close range. Neither came and Cochran pitched face first into the dirt, a hole in his back and the gun still in his hand.
Holding the now-smoking pistol he’d yanked from Collins’s knickers, a grim-faced Bullen stared down at the fallen man. Jared let loose the breath he had been holding and stared in disbelief at his half brother.
“Thank you,” he said. “I didn’t much care for seeing my life flash before my eyes.” And his future life at that.
“Jared!” Ari flew at him, and he wrapped her up in a hug.
“You saved me,” she mumbled into his rumpled cravat.
“Bullen saved us both.” He cleared his throat. They had both come too close to meeting a pistol ball.
Duke Du Jour Page 20