Come Love a Stranger

by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss

  “I’ve had enough of your threats; now I have one of my own to give.”

  Malcolm stared in rapt attention as Ashton’s words thudded into him like fists pounding against his chest. Or was it his heart that thumped so hard against the inner cavity?

  “I’m going to start counting,” Ashton informed him, “and if you don’t kill me before I reach three, you won’t get another chance.” He stretched out his free hand and pushed Lenore gently away, ignoring her frantic pleas for them both to be reasonable. “One…” His eyes glittered as he felt the pistol shake against his throat. “Two…”

  The weapon was jerked away with an angry curse, and Malcolm ground his teeth as he met the mockery in those hazel eyes. As he stepped back, Ashton slid his own pistol beneath his coat and, in its stead, pulled out a long cheroot, which he leisurely puffed alight.

  “I suggest you take care with your threats from now on, Malcolm,” he said. “Someone might take offense and blow your fool head off.”

  Malcolm did not appreciate the advice. “We’ll see what comes of all this, Mister Wingate.” Taking Lenore’s arm, he marched her along the deck, putting Ashton far behind him in a short amount of time.

  Ashton followed at a slower pace, wishing he had Lierin’s approval to dismiss Malcolm from her life. Until he had it, he could do nauht but watch them from afar, and it was no easy or pleasant task.

  Malcolm paused outside the gaming room to adjust his clothing and glared at his wife as he smoothed the lapels of his coat.

  “Your cravat is gone,” she reminded him calmly and asked offhandedly, “Did Marelda enjoy her view of the ceiling? Or could she see much in that short a time? Indeed, you must have just completed the swiftest seduction ever performed.”

  “Youuuu!” Malcolm growled. “Right when…” He searched about for the proper words and found none he could tell his wife. “Then it struck me, and all I could see was you…with him…having your fun with him!”

  “Marelda was probably disappointed that you couldn’t finish what you had started.” Lenore lifted a brow to a lofty height as he pushed his face close and gnashed his teeth at her. “I’m truly sorry, Malcolm, that I disturbed your moment of conquest. If I see the matter correctly, you were only thwarted by your reluctance to have me do the same thing you were doing, and I find that rather amusing.”

  His hand caught her arm again, none too gently, and gritting out a smile, he entered the ballroom and swept her into a waltz. They moved with stilted motion, each annoyed with the other, each angry, and each aware of the attention they had gained. It vexed Malcolm that the dance lacked the fluid grace of another he had been witness to, and that was the one when the Wingate man had led her in a swirling motion around the pavilion. Absent, too, were the appreciative comments made by the guests.

  “Have I told you how divine you look this evening, madam?” he asked, trying to break the ice that encased her and held her reserved from him. “You’re the most beautiful woman here.”

  Lenore caught a glimpse of Marelda coming into the room, and by the woman’s reddened countenance and the glare she tossed at Malcolm, Lenore decided the woman was none too pleased. “Marelda is back,” she informed him coolly. “And she’s looking slightly enraged. Don’t you want to go to her and make your amends?”

  “She doesn’t matter to me,” he scoffed. “She’s only someone to relieve myself with until you yield to me.”

  Lenore stared at him in amazement. “How can you even think of me yielding myself when you act like a rutting tomcat? And certainly not after you’ve been with Marelda.”

  “Are you jealous?” He smiled, amused by the idea.

  “Fear would better explain my reasons to avoid going to bed with you, Malcolm. I might catch something I don’t want.”

  Malcolm’s ego was seriously deflated. “You’re a cold woman, Lenore Sinclair.”

  She averted her face, remembering a time when she had played chase with Ashton through the master suite at Belle Chêne. Giggling and dropping pieces of her clothing in his path, she had fled before him, and it had seemed at the time that he had purposely delayed catching her until the last garment had followed the descent of the others; then with a long arm he had reached out and brought her close to him. There in his embrace she had teased him with a wanton kiss, then had pulled away and danced against him in a manner that Salome had never dreamed of. Was she truly cold? Or just particular about the man she was with?

  She stiffened as Malcolm’s arm tightened about her narrow waist and brought her closer to him. He bent to drop a light kiss on the pale shoulder, now aware that Ashton had entered the room. He knew the other closely observed them, and his spirits soared as he thought how he could torment the man. His warm breath sighed close to her ear. “If your Mr. Wingate insists upon sniffing after you, my dear, then I think I should make him suffer.”

  “What do you mean?” Worry was evident in the lovely visage as Lenore lifted her gaze to him again.

  Malcolm loosened his embrace, allowing her to move back a step. His expression was almost cocky as he led her around the floor. “It’s obvious the scum wants to get into you, but since you belong to me, I shall remind him of that fact.” His fingers dallied at the small of her back, and he gave her a warning glare when she turned a bit rigid. “Be careful, my love. If you do not allow me this moment, I’ll make you pay dearly.”

  “Pay?” She repeated the word with growing trepidation. “What is it that you’re trying to do?”

  He tilted his head in Ashton’s direction. “I want that buffoon to realize finally just whose wife you are, and I’m going to make him rue the day he contrived this little gambit. While we’re here aboard the River Witch, you will allow me to touch you as much as I want to.”

  “Do I detect a threat in your plan?” she asked with rampant sarcasm.

  Malcolm seemed as smug as a pampered cat as he replied, “You have kept me from your bed for some time now, madam, but I am growing impatient. The idea of separate bedrooms is becoming intolerable, and I think the time will soon come when I must reaffirm our married status…just in case you’ve forgotten how it was between us.” His eyes dropped to devour the fullness above her gown. “Thus far I’ve been concerned for your welfare, but you seem fit enough to bear his attentions. So, why not mine? I am your husband.”

  Ashton’s jaw tightened as he watched the lustful perusal sweeping the swelling bosom, and as the cabin boy passed with a tray, he reached for a liberally filled glass of brandy. He hated those probing gazes that were wont to linger there upon her breasts. He disliked the mouth that kissed her smooth skin and the hands that pressed her narrow waist. Perhaps he had made a mistake in creating interest among his friends for this occasion. At the moment it appeared that Malcolm was the only one enjoying the event.

  Lenore stared up at Malcolm, aghast at what he proposed. “Are you saying that I must allow you to maul me in front of all these people?”

  A corner of the large mouth drew up in a subtle sneer. “I don’t care about the others, my dear. My only concern is that fool who persists in calling you Lierin.”

  Lenore nodded slowly in displeasure, beginning to understand his ploy. It was not passion for her that prompted him to be amorous as much as hatred and jealousy of the other man. “And if I don’t cooperate, you will force your attentions on me anyway.”

  Malcolm shrugged indolently. “While you’ve kept to your chaste bed and denied me my husbandly rights, I’ve had to appease myself with harlots, but I’m getting tired of those bawdy butts twisting beneath me.” He stared intently into the wide emerald eyes. “I crave fresher game to sport with.”

  “So either way I’m caught.” She assessed her situation drearily.

  “Choose which is worse, madam.”

  “I think you already know the answer to that.”

  His eyes flared with the insult of her light gibe; then he chuckled sneeringly. “You think he can pleasure you more than I can?” He flung up his head and s
norted contemptuously. “You don’t know very much about men if you believe that.”

  “I’ve forgotten a lot, that’s true.” Her tone was bland. “But I’m relearning swiftly, and I’m beginning to think that I was in a state of distress when I married you, or else I saw something in you that just wasn’t there.”

  There was a stir in the room, and everyone turned as Sheriff Coty came through the doors, holding a struggling Horace Titch by the scruff of the neck. Everyone gaped and gathered around as the lawman halted beside Ashton.

  “Here’s one of your thieves, Mr. Wingate. I caught him red-handed, trying to sneak away with the rest of the pirates, but we caught some of ’em…and this one.” He shook Horace as a dog shakes a rat, much to the outrage of that one.

  “You fool!” Horace twisted around on the tips of his toes, which were the only part of his body that could reach the floor and allow him some leverage to resist this humiliating seizure by the lawman. “I tell you I was being robbed myself! And they made me go with them!”

  “Certainly, Mr. Titch, and you just happened to have these jewels in your pocket.” Sheriff Coty dipped a hand into his own pocket and pulled out a diamond pendant. “We found some of the guests locked in one of the forward cabins, and they had been robbed. They went out for a stroll on the deck, and that is when his men”—he nodded toward Horace—“caught them unawares and took what they had. It would have been only a matter of time before they came in here.”

  “But I was out on the deck,” Lenore commented, clutching a hand to her throat.

  “Then you were lucky, ma’am,” Sheriff Coty observed politely. “Someone musta been watchin’ over you.”

  “And I was out there,” Marelda stated, pushing her way through the gathering.

  “Marelda, tell them I didn’t have anything to do with this,” Horace pleaded.

  “He a friend of yours, ma’am?” the lawman questioned.

  “Yes,” Marelda replied slowly, wondering what trouble she might be letting herself in for.

  “Well, that’s probably why you didn’t get robbed, ma’am. Mr. Titch likely told the brigands not to hurt any of his friends.”

  “This whole thing is ridiculous!” Horace declared in outrage.

  “That’s what I thought, too, when Mr. Wingate asked me to watch over his steamer, just in case someone tried anything. You can imagine my surprise when me and my men started seeing them thieves poppin’ out of hidin’ and then flittin’ across the dock to come on board. Looked like they planned it real good, except Mr. Wingate had a better plan.”

  “Has any of the guests been hurt?” Ashton asked in concern.

  “Just a mite shaken, that’s all,” the lawman replied. He jerked his head toward Titch again. “I’m going to put this one behind bars and then ask him some important questions.”

  “Someone make him listen to me!” Horace pleaded as he held out his arms in desperate supplication. “I didn’t take anything! I tell you, the thieves put that necklace into my pocket to make it seem like I did.”

  “That’s fine and dandy, Mr. Titch, but one of them brigands also said you were one of them. He met with you here on board, and you paid him to do it.”

  Horace searched about for an answer. “I don’t know who he was. I just met him in the tavern, and he asked to speak with me while I was here on the riverboat.”

  “What reason did he have?”

  “None.” Horace shrugged his shoulders. “I mean, he didn’t give any. He just robbed me.”

  “Well, if he did, you came out better for it with that there necklace in your pocket…at least, you would have, had you not been caught.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “LIER…IN. Lier…in.”

  Lenore frowned in her sleep and rolled her head on the pillow.

  “Where are you? Lierin? Lierin? Come out. Come out, wherever you are….”

  She was hiding behind a carefully clipped shrub partially shaded by the manor looming in the background. A young red-haired girl crouched beside her, and they hid their giggles behind cupped hands as the stalking footsteps came closer…closer….

  “Lierin…Lenore…Come out…Come out…Wherever you are…”

  “Shhh,” she warned her sister silently as that one threatened to burst into laughter and reveal their hiding place. “He’ll hear you and find us both.”

  The tiny pebbles of the walk crunched beneath the hesitating footfalls that came ever nearer. Seeing a large manly shadow fall on the lawn nearby, they pressed against the shrub and waited, scarcely daring to breathe as the shadow advanced with slow, stealthy caution. It disappeared by degrees, falling onto the shrub that protected them as the man stepped closer; then quite unexpectedly a bee flitted past their noses, startling them both, and they scrambled away with cries of alarm.

  “Aha!” The man’s voice rang with a note of victory as he leaped past the shrub and pounced into view.

  Torn from her dream, Lenore came upright with a gasp and stared about the dark room in wide-eyed panic. The face in the portrait! It was the one in her dream!

  “Lierin…Lierin…”

  A sudden chill shivered along her spine as she pressed back upon the pillows, trying to listen above the frantic beating of her heart. Had the voice come from her dreams to torment her?

  “Lierin…Lierin…”

  “Ashton!” The name flared through her brain as she realized that what she had heard was not part of any fantasy. It was Ashton! She threw herself from the bed and, flinging open the french doors, ran out onto the veranda. Reaching the balustrade, she searched frantically for the one she was sure was there. But where? Her eyes swept outward, anxiously skimming over the grounds and sweeping the shoreline; then a sound close by made her look down. There, right below her, the tall figure leaned against a post of the lower porch.

  “Ashton!” she whispered as loud as she dared. “What are you doing down there?”

  “Ah, my Lady Lierin! My queen!” he called up and, stumbling away from the house, swept her a gallant bow. “I have finally beckoned you from your chambers. My soul despaired at my lengthy failure, but now it doth quiver at the sound of your voice.”

  “Go home, Ashton,” she beseeched him plaintively. She was afraid of what Malcolm would do if he caught him. “Go back to your tent, and go to bed.”

  “Nay, my lady.” He shook his head and staggered unsteadily as he moved farther away from the house. “Not without your soft, sweet breast to lay my head upon.”

  “Malcolm is here!” she reminded him frantically.

  “I know! ’Tis what torments me! I have maneuvered my knights as best I can, but he’s still there, holding my queen.”

  “Malcolm will hear you! Please go away,” she implored. “He’ll kill you if he finds you here!”

  Ashton reflected upon her statement a moment and leaned his head back with a chuckle. “He’s welcome to try, my lady.”

  “He will! And you’re in no condition to defend yourself,” she chided.

  “Ah, madam, I’m not concerned with defending myself. ’Tis you I’ve come to protect. I lay my sword at your feet, offering my services…my arm for your protection…and whatever portion of me you may have need of.” He lurched forward a step. “I shall defeat the arrant foe who has captured you, and then I shall take you to yonder castle.” Sweeping an arm about, he indicated the huge tent that had become his home. “Lo! It sits there awaiting your presence, my lady.”

  “I can’t go with you!” she cried in a whisper. “Now go back…please….”

  “I shall not leave without my lady,” he firmly declared, striking a stance of stubborn resolution for a brief second before he stumbled and fell spinning to his knees. There he collapsed like a limp rag doll with his long legs tucked beneath him and his hands braced upon the turf. Hanging his head between his shoulders, he moaned, “Lierin…Lierin…Come down to me.”

  The agonized plea wrenched her heart, and she felt a rush of tears at the misery she heard in his
tone. Anxiety was there, too, filling her with dread as she hurried to the stairs, but her love beckoned. Her bare feet flew down the stairs, and ignoring the last step, she leaped to the lower level and raced out onto the front lawn. There, she paused in some confusion, for he was gone. Vanished! She glanced about, her eyes searching the moonlit yard for the manly form she knew only too well.

  “Ashton?” she called in a whisper. Cautiously she moved toward a small grouping of trees on the east side. “Ashton, where are you?”

  Suddenly she gasped as she was seized from behind, and an arm, slipping about her waist, swirled her around. Another gasp was startled from her as she was lifted from her feet and brought firmly against a long, hard body. Eager lips covered hers, and she was engulfed in the intoxicating essence of brandy. The kiss went through her, flicking awake her senses and making her stirringly aware of his manhood as her thighs slid against his.

  “Ashton, behave,” she pleaded breathlessly as his mouth sank to her throat. She closed her eyes and rolled her head away, trying to escape those burning kisses that branded her. Her world tilted crazily in a spinning orbit as his mouth dipped down and caressed her breast through her gown. She shivered as the moistness seeped through the light cloth, and the glowing coals of desire began to spill like a lava flow through her body. His hand was on her buttock, clasping her close, and at the bold, manly touch of him, a hunger grew in the softness of her.

  “I want you, Lierin,” he rasped in a whisper. “I can’t go back without you.”

  The realization seeped down in her that the longer she resisted going back to his tent with him, the better his chances were of being shot. Get him back and leave him where he would be safe, she thought.

  “Ashton, I’ll go back with you,” she whispered unsteadily as his lips moved to the opening of her gown. “Just put me down, and I’ll take you back.”

  “I’ll carry you.” Setting her to her feet, he swept an arm down to lift her up again, but she laughed and placed a hand on his chest, halting him.