Chasing Eliza

by King, Rebecca

  Even from across the room he was simply huge. He had to duck his head to fit through the door he was so tall. Eliza judged he must be at least six feet tall, if not more. He seemed to dwarf the room with his sheer presence. His broad shoulders stretched and filled the black shirt to masculine perfection. Eliza could see the ripple of muscle beneath the black cloth as he casually meandered across the room.

  Eliza swallowed and shifted uncomfortably in her chair, the pie in her mouth turned to ash as she watched him draw near, pause before her and bend down to lean menacingly over her. He placed one hand on either arm of the chair in which she sat and drew so close to her that his nose was almost touching hers.

  Despite her anxiety, Eliza vaguely noted his eyes were dark blue. She hadn’t been able to see last night, but in daylight they were startling in their intensity. Although right now they were also glinting with fierce temper that also made a muscle twitch in his square jaw. Tendrils of dusty black locks fell over his broad forehead, his nostrils were flared and his lips firm as he glared down at her in menacing silence for several moments.

  Eliza could practically feel the anger shimmering through him. All thoughts of making excuses vanished. She could think of nothing other than the towering bulk of masculinity that was clearly going to raise hell any moment now.

  The last thing she expected was the dip of his head as his lips crushed hers. It wasn’t the kiss of lovers, fuelled by tenderness and lust. This was an affirmation of survival, a clash of wills where master sought and challenged mate, daring her to object to complete submission. It was quick; it was brutal and when he drew abruptly away, left her shaking with the force of the desire that swept through her.

  Although he had drawn back, he still loomed over her and seemed inclined to glare down at her for as long as it took. Eliza frowned at him.

  “If you do that to me again, I will bloody well paddle your backside so hard you won’t be able to walk straight.” Edward growled in a voice husky with thirst, hunger and the tide of relief that had threatened to buckle his knees. He hated to feel so intensely about anyone.

  He had seemingly spent the past few months helping both of his brothers cope with their angst as they had sought to keep their prospective brides safe from harm. He had seen the devastated husk Dominic had turned into when Izzy had been shot, and still had nightmares about Amelia disappearing into the black void of the rushing river not so long back.

  Although he had no intention of marrying the woman before him, he had some sympathy and understanding for the depths of fear his brothers had been plunged into – and he didn’t love the woman seated before him. With not even a full day’s acquaintance, it was impossible to fall in love with anyone with any degree of certainty. His emotions were engaged purely to the point of needing to know she was safe because he liked her. She had been dealt a rough hand she didn’t deserve – how rough a hand he had yet to learn, but she was in a dire situation and needed his help, even if she didn’t want to acknowledge it.

  “You and whose army?” Eliza returned, flicking her hair back in abrupt defiance. “You can stand and glower all night but I’m hungry. She motioned to the other chair and offered him a plate with a large pie on it, watching as he studied it for several moments. She was fully aware he contemplated refusing it before hunger got the better of his need to vent his anger and he abruptly relieved her of the plate and sat down opposite her.

  “Don’t tempt me.” He glowered at her as he dug in, willing to put his temper to one side in order to appease his gnawing hunger, but unwilling to let the matter drop entirely.

  “Enter!” He ordered, blithely ignoring Eliza’s glare of disgust and turning to smile at the maids who arrived with a bottle of brandy, more steaming hot water and even more food.

  Casually tossing them several coins, he turned back to his food apparently oblivious that he had given them both the equivalent of a week’s pay.

  Eliza shook her head completely at a loss to fathom how the aristocracy really worked. To him it was mere pittance, undoubtedly he had untold wealth somewhere that afforded him the luxury of being able to spend days away from home without needing to supervise something, or someone, or make business decisions.

  Was he a fop? A dandy? Eliza scoffed at that one and eyed the dark clothing he wore. The colour suited him to perfection. The jet black of his hair, added to the blackness of his clothing, even his boots were black, giving him an air of menace that made everyone he came into contact with suck in a deep breath and take a respectful step backwards. Eliza wondered if his clothing had been chosen for that reason entirely. After all, why wasn’t he dressed in a white shirt, silk waistcoat and breeches like everyone else of his ilk? What had he been doing that required him being dressed like he was going to mug somebody?

  As she tucked into her own food she realised there was a lot she had to learn about the man opposite. She still couldn’t be certain whether he was one of Scraggan’s men or not.

  She froze in the act of putting some potato into her mouth and stared at him.

  “What?” Edward’s eyes met and held hers and he flicked a brief assessing glance around the room, looking for the cause of the alarm that had entered her eyes.

  “How did you find me?” Eliza eyed him warily, glancing out of the window for any signs of their pursuers or Scraggan.

  “I wasn’t trying to believe me. I sat and waited in the barn as we had planned.”

  Inwardly she winced at his pronunciation of the last four words. It took every ounce of self control she possessed to steadily meet his gaze and nonchalantly ignore his pointed reminder.

  “When it became apparent you weren’t going to show up as you promised, then I decided to head back to Havistock. Whether you know it or not, Murray is only a few miles away from my brother’s residence, Havistock Hall. It is just outside Melton.”

  Eliza felt her stomach dip. She hadn’t stopped to consider exactly where she was headed last night, or was that early this morning? She had failed to consider that she could be making it easy for Edward to simply follow her. Cursing herself for being every type of fool, she watched him eat for several moments before turning her attention to her own meal.

  The silence stretched between them for several long moments until Eliza was certain he was trying to unnerve her with his reticence. Determined not to buckle under his intimidating glowering, she gazed back at him defiantly and sat back to wait.

  Edward smiled to himself, pleased that despite everything she stood up to him. Although he was loathed to admit it out loud, he was damned pleased to see she was safe and unharmed, if exhausted. He eyed the dark smudge of shadows beneath her eyes that he was certain hadn’t been there the night before. Luckily he had given the innkeeper several coins to ensure that their presence in the inn remained confidential. They had the night to themselves.

  He poured them both a brandy, pushed one across the table towards her and settled back in the chair. Knowing she was safe and secure, and they were both away from prying eyes ensured he was able to relax for the first time in a long time. Exhaustion began to pull at him but he refused to give in to it until he had the answers he needed.

  “Do you want to tell me what the bloody hell is going on?” His soft murmur was betrayed by the cold glint of steel in his eyes. Although his legs were crossed casually at the ankle, Eliza could see the hard muscles of his shoulders twitch and knew he was anything but relaxed.

  “I am nothing to you. Why are you bothering with me?” She murmured, struggling to understand why someone of apparent wealth and independence would take up someone else’s problems so readily. Was he a thrill seeker? Someone who had so little to do in his own life, he sought out anything that would challenge him? She was certain that his actions of last night went far beyond friend helping friend.

  “I told you, I need to know if you are Jemima or Eliza.” Edward crossed his arms, clearly intended to wait for as long as it took to get the truth out of her.

  “How many mor
e times do I have to tell you that I am Eliza? Jemima went missing a few weeks ago.” Eliza’s voice rose with frustration. “Why do you not believe me?”

  “I need to be certain.”

  “Then be assured that I am Eliza.” She snapped, taking a sip of her brandy without thinking. She immediately broke into a coughing fit as the potent liquid burned her throat.

  Although he didn’t show it, Edward was vastly relieved. “Then who are the men chasing you?” He leaned forward in his seat and drew his legs up to prop his elbows on his knees. “Don’t try and tell me that you don’t know. You know exactly who they are, and exactly what they want.” His blue eyes were cold and hard as he stared at her, daring her to tell him a lie.

  Eliza struggled not to feel completely overwhelmed by the sheer dominance of the man before her. Even seated, once again menace seemed to shimmer around him and she knew he would be a forbidding adversary if she pushed him too far. The image of herself being draped over his knee while he paddled her backside swam before her gaze and a tiny thrill of feminine anticipation swept through her briefly before it was immediately replaced with embarrassment at the thought of someone like Edward resorting to such endeavours. She had no doubt he was capable if she pushed him far enough and she didn’t really know him well enough to be assured he wouldn’t.

  From her experiences of the past day, she knew she couldn’t make the trip to Padstow on her own. Not only was it incredibly risky for a single lady to travel alone unchaperoned, with Scraggan giving chase the odds were decidedly stacked against her. Luckily today she had met an innkeeper who was more than understanding and reliable enough to be helpful. Next time she may not be so lucky. She needed the protection of the man opposite.

  Although she hated to draw him into danger, and couldn’t bear the thought of him being hurt, she had spent enough time on her own chasing through the night to know she couldn’t face the prospect of doing it day after day. The curious stares she had encountered as she passed through the village some miles back reminded her of the attention she would attract simply by trying to go about her business. It would be a miracle indeed if she wasn’t accosted by every ne’er do well within a hundred miles. And unfortunately in her circumstance, there would be nobody to report her missing if she didn’t turn up at the other end.

  That thought made her feel so acutely alone that a wave of grief settled over her. Immediately she felt the sting of tears in her eyes and had to swallow against the choking hold the swirling emotions had on her throat. She blinked rapidly to prevent the tears from falling and wasn’t aware of Edward’s steady gaze and sympathetic understanding.

  “You are not going to get rid of me Eliza.” He murmured gently. “You need to understand that here and now. You can either work with me and we can try to resolve your current situation with as little bloodshed as possible, or you can fight me and draw this entire scenario out unnecessarily. I will fight for you. I will kill to protect you and keep your pursuers from taking you, but in return I need you to be honest with me.” His eyes met and held hers meaningfully. “I need you to be totally honest with me.”

  Eliza nodded reluctantly. He was right she knew but she was still reluctant to involve him in her problems. She could understand his need for the truth, especially given the adversary he had yet to face but didn’t know how much to confide in him.

  “I need to ask you a few questions first.” She murmured, picking up an apple and a knife.

  Edward simply stared at her in return, and waited.

  “Who are you?” Although her attention was seemingly on slowly peeling the apple, it was in fact locked firmly upon the man opposite. Even with the solidity of the table between them, he positively throbbed masculine intent.

  “My name is Edward Michael Cavendish, Lord Entwhistle.” His voice was calm and steady as her world rocked. She stared at him, knowing from the steady reassurance in his gaze that it was the absolute truth.

  “So why are you here?” She waved her hand to stop his answer and paused for several moments. “I mean, why are you involving yourself in this? I know you said you had dropped in to the tavern to help search for Jemima, but you know that I am not her. Peter doesn’t know anything about me and probably won’t want to be burdened by my arrival, so why are you insisting on remaining with me?”

  Edward fought the urge to squirm under her penetrating gaze. He suddenly felt uncomfortable in his own skin as he considered whether he should tell her the truth. The thought was enough to make him pause. If he expected her to tell him the truth, wasn’t it better to confide in her in return?

  “I have recently purchased my own estate from my brother. He inherited a house from my late uncle but unfortunately it was raised to the ground. I have commissioned a new house to be built and had gone to Yorkshire to purchase a flock of sheep and make a few business contacts. Before I left for Yorkshire, I was asked by Peter to follow a lead he had been given about Jemima’s whereabouts.” Sensing her question his eyes met and held hers. “His aunt Elspeth had died and he had to attend the funeral and sort out her will, and so on and so forth. Needless to say he couldn’t be checking out the lead and dealing with urgent family matters as well, so I agreed to drop by on my way home. The lead took me to you.” He stated plainly, his tone so matter of fact Eliza knew it to be the truth.

  “But you could now go home and report back to Peter that you cannot find Jemima, but her sister is safe and well. The battle isn’t yours Edward.” Her voice was soft but challenging. She tried desperately to ignore the shiver that swept through her. Although she longed for him to stick by her, she couldn’t ignore the risks involved especially given who he really was.

  Suddenly the distance between them loomed greater than ever. A small part of Eliza’s heart broke away and crumbled with grief as the possibility of this man leaving her life and going his own way stood in stark contrast to her own uncertain future.

  “I don’t – won’t - back down from a fight Eliza.” Edward replied, his long tapered fingers running absently over the smooth sides of the goblet. “I cannot and will not leave you to deal with this on your own.”

  Swamped with relief, she slowly began to peel and core an apple. It helped to alleviate some of the discomfort she felt from his unrelenting stare. She had to fight the urge to squirm on her seat like a recalcitrant child and gave in to the inevitable.

  “I can never repay you.” She murmured huskily, staring absently at his fingers.

  “I don’t expect repayment. My reward will be seeing you safe from harm.” He didn’t add that he really wanted her safe from harm in his arms. The thought of marriage sat uncomfortably on his broad shoulders as it meant that he had a level of commitment towards her he had considered beyond him – until now.

  His attention was drawn by her absent destruction of the apple she peeled and he waited patiently for her to take that final step towards trusting him implicitly.

  Chapter Five

  “My father was a magistrate in Cornwall covering Padstow, Moushole, Looe, St Ives and the small fishing villages in between.” She began on a sigh, thinking of her tall, proud father with a wave of grief. “He was a firm but fair man. He knew all about the smuggling gangs who worked the area.” She offered him a small smile, aware of his startled look.

  “Although in most cases he often chose to look the other way and probably didn’t do as much as he should to stop them. The majority of the small smuggling gangs that ran the area were fishermen who were just trying to earn a little extra to feed their families. There was no malice intended; no intimidation or threat. Most of the fishermen’s families were involved in some way or other, often hiding the goods in the strangest places to avoid detection by the Revenue. Redcoats were in the area when the smuggling became rife, but they struggled to catch the families involved purely because the locals became adept at hiding the goods. My father didn’t help them as much as he could have and that earned him – us – the respect of the villagers.”

  She
didn’t add that her father was ‘treated’ occasionally for his unofficial assistance with an occasional barrel of finest French brandy.

  “He wasn’t a bad man.” She hastened to reassure him, slightly annoyed at the look of scepticism on his face. “He certainly didn’t help the fishermen; just didn’t stop them.” Unable to sit still under the penetrating gaze of his sharp blue eyes, Eliza stood and moved slowly to the fireplace, dragging her chair with her. She needed the warmth of the flames to heat the chill deep within. “Until Scraggan arrived.”

  Waiting until Edward drew his chair to sit opposite her, she let silence settle between them for several moments as she chopped the apple into thin slivers. “At first, all seemed to be well. The fishermen continued going out for their daily catch - and night-time collections - and eventually accepted him into their fold. He went out on their boats as fishing crew to begin with. I don’t know too much about the smugglers’ activities, but I do know that he became involved.”

  Silence stretched between them for several long moments until Edward began to wonder if she would continue her story. He was about to prompt her when she jolted, and stared blankly down at the mangled apple now sitting in her lap.

  “Then the bodies started turning up. At first nobody thought too much of the two men who were found. One was a renowned drunk. My father thought that while in a drunken stupor he had fallen on his way home and died of head injuries before anyone could find him in the morning. Then old man Macleary was found with a broken neck.” She watched as Edward leant forwards in his chair, his attention locked firmly on her.

  “What was so strange about that?” Edward murmured softly, studying the paleness of her face. She was systematically turning the fresh apple into pulp, but it seemed to help her and at least she was confiding in him.