He wondered if she heard his sea-tossed declaration.
“I adore you,” he shouted again, certain she couldn’t hear him from there, but he needed to say it anyway.
And as if she heard, but didn’t care, Jade turned and walked away.
Later that night, gazing out his bedroom window, Marcus instructed himself to put Jade’s turmoil of the afternoon from his mind. She needed time to come to terms with her new feelings and emotions, and he needed to find out who was keeping the railroad from moving forward.
Because of Garr’s condition, Marcus needed to save the railroad, and the family home. Not that he could make up in any way for crippling his brother, but the accident he’d caused made seeing to Garr’s future his responsibility.
Marcus ran a hand through his hair. He’d best focus on the task at hand. Other concerns would still await his attention afterward.
Searching for the best location from which to watch for anyone leaving the house, Marcus discovered that from the cliff, he could see the house without obstruction, and anyone heading toward Newhaven or the railroad construction site.
Given the fact that Jade had the same view from her bedroom window as he did from his, Marcus devised a clandestine route to the cliff so as not to be seen, especially by her. Once he mapped his route, he dressed in the dark old clothes he’d brought for a mission that once seemed exciting and now smacked of betrayal.
Be that as it may, he had no choice and left when he knew everyone would be at dinner.
Outside, he circumnavigated the house and property on his route to the jutting cliff, which also happened to be the highest point on the estate.
Evening had just turned full dark, and while he managed to depart before moonrise, he likely had a long wait. Once he arrived at his vantage point, a nightjar’s cry purling and bubbling in the air, Marcus sat, knees raised, on the far side of a stone bench, a location not visible from his window.
Like a peeping tom, he looked for Jade’s room, and like a lovesick pup, he watched her pass by her window as if pacing to the incessant, churning beat of the restless sea behind him.
Marcus wanted only to take away Jade’s worries and keep her safe, except his stubborn siren would not allow it.
With her curtains open, the light in her room allowed him to see her in her dressing gown, unsashed and flowing behind her with each quick, agitated pass she made before her window. As she paced, she held something in one hand that she slapped against the palm of the other in a rhythm more agitated than the elements. A hairbrush, perhaps. A knife. A pistol?
Jittery, yes, but enough to carry a weapon? Enough to shoot blind, if she realized someone followed her? Was she aware of a danger that required some form of self-defence?
Bloody hell. He was so busy speculating, he nearly missed the figure dashing into the lane and heading away from the house and the railroad site, toward town.
Not that people weren’t allowed to leave Peacehaven Manor, but this was the same man he’d seen slipping back into the house the night the stuffed dress got left on the tracks. His movements were too furtive to be forgotten, now or then. The man must be one of Jade’s retainers, Dirk, Jack or Harry, he’d concluded after his first sighting, all long-time dependents, bar Dirk who’d been with Jade less than two years. A newcomer by Peacehaven standards, Dirk, therefore, bore watching. Whoever he was, he must have a woman friend in the village, perhaps even a married one.
Marcus imagined one of the old codgers with a wicked assignation and consigned this second sighting to the list of concerns in his mind, with a notation to research Dirk’s past, just in case.
Looking up again, Marcus discovered that Jade had drawn her curtains. Now, only her shadow could be seen, and clearly.
She was undressing.
Chapter Ten
Marcus’s mouth went dry, his boy part went on alert. For less than a blink, he saw the outline of Jade’s nude body in silhouette, ripe and lush, and he lost his breath.
Perfect. An artist’s inspiration. A lover’s dream.
Everything about Jade Smithfield called to him, her laughter, her generosity of spirit, her fears, hopes, and dreams, even her temper. ’Twas mere serendipity, her nymph’s body, yet seeing it outlined like this made him think of one thing, him buried hilt-deep inside her with her long splendid legs wrapped round him.
Bloody hell, she was pulling on breeches.
Marcus jumped up, realized the danger in revealing himself, and ducked back down. He had to get hold of himself. His wild emotions concerning Jade were like to get him in trouble—more important, he might endanger her.
He had expected her to leave the house tonight, so why did being proved right upset him? Lord he was in trouble.
No, damn it, she was in trouble.
That foolish woman, needed protecting, and he’d watch over her, by damn, if she never spoke to him again as a result.
Oddly, his ability to protect her while he spied on her made him feel better about the whole sordid mess. Garrett would scoff, but who cared, as long as he got both jobs done.
Jade slipped on a coat and Marcus wondered which one she pilfered this time.
Her curtains parted; the light in her room went out.
With the full of the moon, he ducked his head, taking no chances.
Gazing out, into the shadows, Jade remained at her window.
Marcus’s legs cramped, so he stretched out behind the bench to wait her out.
He smacked his head against the bench, waking himself. Judging by the position of the moon, more than an hour had passed. Rubbing his temple, he swore in silence as he regarded Jade’s window.
Blast and double blast; he’d missed her departure.
He raced in the direction she must have taken, but caught her coming from the shore, instead. Had she passed him as he slept? He dove for cover, face down in thorny barbs and horse manure. The gardeners had fertilized the rose bushes. Wonderful.
Marcus wiped his face with a hand, but stopped breathing as Jade walked by, no more than a foot away.
Keeping her ahead of him, he hid behind trees along the route as he followed in her wake.
He felt like an idiot.
He smelled like a stable.
It started to rain.
God she looked great in breeches.
When she entered open land, Marcus scurried head-down, along the far side of the unmortared stone wall enclosing the field, often moving farther away from her, rather than nearer, but keeping her in his sights. Just as she entered the beech wood, he turned his ankle in a foxhole, cursed and hobbled on.
In the woods, which opened to the construction site, having trees for cover afforded Marcus a short-lived degree of comfort.
A man, short and robust—not someone he’d seen among Jade’s retainers—walked suddenly ahead of him trailing Jade, detour for detour. When Marcus spotted the intruder’s pistol raised at the ready, his instincts went on full alert.
Garrett never mentioned hiring a watchman. Even so, a watchman would wield his weapon only if and when he saw proof of intent to destroy property, or worse.
Distracted of a sudden, Marcus realized that someone trailed him almost at the same instant the first man cocked and aimed his pistol at Jade. Racing forward, Marcus knocked the pistol from the man’s hand from behind and kicked it away. Wrestling the gunman to the ground, Marcus got gut-punched, doubled over, and sent to his knees.
The gunman ran.
Marcus gave chase before catching his breath.
The bastard might be short, but he moved like a jackrabbit.
When Marcus saw Peacehaven Manor rear up mid-pursuit, he realized he might have kept Jade from getting shot, but he’d left her no protection from the man who had been trailing him.
Go forward? Back?
His hesitation got him knocked to the ground by a moving object. “Beecher!”
The retainer stood, hands on knees, panting. “He was gonna’ shoot her!”
“Ever see hi
m before?”
“Never.”
“Someone was following me,” Marcus said.
Beecher nodded. “Me. I’ll go back and keep Jade safe.”
Marcus released a relieved breath. “Thank God. I’ll go after the shooter.”
Pursuing the gunman all the way into the twittens, Newhaven’s narrow twisting lanes, Marcus ran aground amid a gaggle of half-crown street strumpets on rampage, and lost his quarry to the brewery and shipbuilding yards beyond. Once free of the demireps,—no easy task—filthy and reeking, he returned, miles and hours later, to the deserted railroad site, as empty as the lumber cars beside the unfinished railroad bridge over the River Ouse.
Marcus could hardly believe his eyes. He’d seen the fully-laden flatcars only hours before!
How the hell could one woman hide two railroad cars full of lumber by herself?
If Jade did, indeed, do it ... he was no longer sure of that, or much of anything else.
A devil named panic nipping at his tail, Marcus ran back to Peacehaven through the pouring rain, half the time worried sick, the other half, prepared, nay, determined, to trounce Jade for scaring him witless.
Once there, he made straight for her room and threw open her door.
They both gasped in shock.
“Hell of a time for a bath!” Marcus said, taking in the view.
“Hell of a time for you to come calling, if you ask me,” Jade said. “Where have you been? You’re soaked through.”
“Chasing the man who followed you out there tonight with a pistol in his hand.”
Jade lifted a handful of water to rinse her face and hide her reaction. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Give me a towel, will you?”
“If you didn’t know, you wouldn’t be so calm.”
She dried her face slowly, to calm herself, and squeaked when she finished and saw he’d stripped to a pair of underbreeches more form-fitting than her drawers. Shockingly form-fitting. “What are you doing?” she asked.
Marcus stepped into her tub. “At least I got a reaction out of you,” he said. “You owe me a bath. I ended up on my face in horseshit, turned my ankle, fought an armed man, and got attacked by prostitutes, all to keep you safe. And where were you? Stealing a lumber shipment is my guess.”
“Prostitutes?”
“Yes,” Marcus sighed. “A tiresome business, but I had to let them all use me, before they would let me go. I left them all deliriously happy and sated. You don’t know what you’re missing.”
Jade shook her head. She wanted to ask why he’d followed her, but that would be admitting too much. None of it mattered, anyway. Because she couldn’t take her gaze from the sight of his muscled torso, his wide shoulders, everything, naked, as he stood in her bathtub, hands on hips, a scowl on his face, daring her to give him the argument he craved.
“Well,” he said. “Are you getting out, or am I joining you?” He dangled her dressing gown just out of reach.
Jade released her breath, too tired to muster up a fight. “I’ll take the dressing gown.”
He held it open in front of him for her to slip into. “Stand up and turn around, I’ll help.”
“You’re crazy.”
“Maybe. I’m also cold, sore, tired and out of patience. Do it my way and I’ll see and do nothing. You’re way, I’ll get a good look, at the least, before you’re decently covered. Either way sounds fine to me. Your choice.”
“Close your eyes.” She didn’t believe for a minute that he would, so she stood quickly and allowed him to slip her dressing gown around her and she slipped her arms in the sleeves and tied the sash.
He smoothed the silk along her shoulders and kissed the back of her neck, then he slid his wicked hands down her back and around her waist. They stopped their foray, finally, but too soon, just below her breasts, remaining, almost unfortunately, above her dressing gown.
Denying her longing for him to touch her, skin to skin, Jade stepped from the tub before she weakened and issued a command for him to fulfil her desire.
Marcus slid down into the hot water, heaving a great sigh.
Determined not to look at him, Jade turned her back to knot her sash and pick up her brush. Then, the only garment he’d been wearing a minute before hit the wall beside her with a splash.
“Much better,” he said. “Hand me the soap, will you?”
“You’re a devil, Marcus Fitzalan.” She turned on him, curiosity making her wish she could soap him from head to foot, herself. She threw the soap that had been within reach all along, smacking the water hard. Taking satisfaction from his grunt of surprise, she wrenched open her door, certain if she didn’t leave, her weak resolve would crumble.
“Where are you going?”
“To get you some dry clothes. It’ll be dawn in a couple of hours and I don’t want you parading around the house naked, if you don’t mind.”
“You sure know how to spoil a man’s fun.”
Jade shut her door on his chuckle, wishing she could have slammed it, annoyed all the way down the stairs. As she gathered his clothes, she tried to stay irritated, but she couldn’t get the sight of him standing above her, nearly naked, from her mind. She shuddered remembering how tempted she’d been to call his bluff.
In a way, it was a good thing that he’d come to see her. She hadn’t been certain how to face him in the morning. He’d taken away that worry, at least.
After Beecher got over his fury at her for venturing to the railroad site alone in the middle of the night, he’d told her that Marcus followed her and risked his life to keep her from being shot. Then Beecher helped her dispose of the lumber.
Again, a few minutes before Marcus arrived, Beecher came to her rescue when he told her, as she paced her room, sick with worry, that he’d spotted Marcus from the turret window, limping, but looking none the worse for his stint as a knight in shining armour.
Yes, she’d worried about the man with the pistol and his reason for aiming it her way. But she’d worried about Marcus more.
She had just climbed into the tub after learning Marcus was safe, when he’d been so bold as to invade her bath.
Clean clothes gathered—including a pair of underbreeches she examined with a smile by sliding her hand through the slit at the front—Jade went back to her room, exhilarated at the prospect of sparring with her nemesis.
Perhaps she’d stay near the door and make him come and take his clothes from her hand, so he’d have to step from the tub and she could finally see ... everything.
But her fantasy was not to be, because he lay in her bed fast asleep, his man parts completely covered by her blanket, drat him. On his side, facing the centre of her bed, one knee bent, he slept as if he’d left a place just for her.
Bruises had formed on his jaw, under his eye. Another on his chest. Almost feeling his pain, she made a sound, and he opened his eyes. “God, Scandal, I’m so bloody tired. Give me a chance to rest, will you, before you throw me out.” He stroked the space beside him. “You must be as tired as me after hauling all that lumber. Come, let me hold you while we sleep. Just for an hour or so.”
He’d followed her; that made her furious.
He’d risked his life for her by grappling with a gunman; that made her knees weak. She threw off her dressing gown and lay beside him.
Marcus pulled her close, threw a leg, an arm, and the blanket over her and went to sleep.
When her shock wore off and he snored softly against her hair, Jade’s heart became soft and warm and content. She smiled, settled into his ready embrace, and closed her eyes.
Marcus woke with an erection and a hand full of breast.
Life was looking up.
One of Jade’s legs nestled neatly between his, her face nuzzled his chest, her hand rested on his naked hip.
Some days started just plain perfect.
He nibbled her ear and she purred, arching against him like a veritable temptress. Morning-ready, the both of them, she remained in control, he
discovered, as she pushed him off her and rose over him, her hair falling free on either side, shutting them away from the world.
“Do the rules remain the same?” she asked. “Have I still but to command and you will obey?”
His erection did a happy dance. “Have your wicked way with me, then ... please.”
With a lusty chuckle, she backed away and he almost wept, but then she knelt beside him and removed the blanket from the parts that interested her most.
Proper Scoundrel Page 12