by Valerie King
“I will not answer for all his friends, but I suppose you could say I certainly am.” Clearly, he was unmoved by her rebuke. If anything, his arms tightened about her waist.
This time, she struggled against him, twisting, pulling and kicking. But for all that, he held her firmly and laughed low in her ear.
“Unhand me, you brute,” she said.
“Gently, Miss Er-smith, I beg you,” he said in his mocking manner.
“And it is not Miss Er-smith, but Miss Smith, as you very well know,” she said, shoving at his arms and twisting a little more.
“Then, gently, Miss Smith,” he said, laughing again.
Finally, she grew weary. The hour was after all very late and she had been tramping about her property as well as Blacklands for over an hour. She stopped struggling.
“Much better,” he murmured.
“Have your kiss then,” she said defiantly.
“I shall, but what if I desire more than a kiss.”
She drew in a long, deep, sharp breath. “You would not dare,” she said.
“Why ever not? You are alone, unprotected, and you are trespassing. Although I might release you if you would at least pretend to enjoy my kisses.”
She was seething. What a fine thing to have happen to her, even if he was wretchedly handsome and even if his voice did tend to tug at her heartstrings. “Oh, very well, if it will end this nonsense.”
“There is nothing nonsensical about a proper kiss.”
“You are nonsensical,” she retorted.
He held her close and sighed. “I suppose I am.” He leaned toward her and kissed her again.
This time she relaxed and let him take what he should not have taken. Her mind wandered first to how she would never trespass on Rotherstone’s lands again. This led to why it was she had done so in the first place, and her mind became filled with thoughts of her map and Devil’s Gate. All her earlier trepidation now seemed justified because of the stranger’s embrace.
Yet fear was not what possessed her now at all, for suddenly his kisses, which had grown sweetly tender, were not nearly so reprehensible. It would seem that all her initial feelings of exhilaration at having trespassed Rotherstone’s woods were becoming entangled with the manner in which she was beginning to savor the stranger’s kisses. She leaned into him, and his arms once more embraced her tightly.
She should not be enjoying his kisses, she thought, but so she was. She drank from a forbidden well and found that never before had she felt so satisfied. She could not remember having experienced something so very sublime in her entire existence.
Without thinking, she slid her arms about his neck. The most passionate thought penetrated her mind that she wished she could remain in this stranger’s arms forever.
* * * * * * * * *
The Earl of Rotherstone held the red-haired beauty, unable to comprehend what had prompted him either to lie about his identity or to kiss the lovely Miss Smith. He had reason to doubt that she was who she said she was, primarily because she had stumbled over her name. She had appeared wonderfully guilty in presenting herself as Arabella, er, Smith, and he had enjoyed teasing her about it.
Earlier, he had seen the dancing light of her lantern from the window of his library, a chamber that happened to be on the first floor of Blacklands Hall and which commanded a significant view of both the western and southern reaches of his property. His first inclination had been to set several of his servants in pursuit of the trespasser, but after a moment's pause he decided that giving chase himself might serve to relieve some of the boredom that had settled over his house during the past several weeks. Even the recent arrival of Sir Edgar Graffham, his good friend of many years, had not quite served to dispel a certain restlessness that had overtaken him.
Now, however, with such a damsel filling his arms so delightfully, these unhappy sentiments were wholly dispelled, and, as a faint moan slipped past her lips, he kissed her more deeply still. Was there anything so hopeful as a long, seductive kiss?
After a moment, he drew back slightly and gazed at her. The light of the lantern glanced off her red curls in a charming fashion but was insufficient to do more than cast her features in shadow. Nothing, however, could disguise the sparkle in her eyes. “You are quite beautiful, you know,” he murmured.
She did not speak for a long moment, but merely gazed at him wonderingly. “How did you do that?” she asked.
“Do what?” He could not help but smile.
“Make me desire what I had no intention of desiring?”
This was very forthright speaking, and he found himself surprised. “Is that what I did?”
“As you must very well know,” she returned archly.
“Well,” he drawled, “you were a trifle reluctant at the outset. I suppose I felt challenged to change your mind.”
She smiled and then laughed. “A trifle reluctant, sir?” she said.
“I am given to understatement.”
“So it would seem.”
He was still holding her fast, yet she did not appear to wish to be released and he was quite content to continue holding her. “Shall I kiss you again, Miss Ersmith?”
“As I have said before, my name is Miss Smith.”
He shook his head. “I am not convinced, for I distinctly heard you say Ersmith.”
“I believe you are making sport of me.”
“I am.”
He felt her shiver.
“Are you cold?”
“Not by half,” she whispered.
“Then why do you tremble?”
“Tis your voice, sir.” A sigh followed.
“Indeed?”
“Have you not been told as much before?” she asked.
He shook his head. His chest felt oddly tight, and he searched her eyes. Who was she really, he wondered? He had not yet become acquainted with Lady Evelina, though she had inherited Lord Bramber’s estate some eight months past. He was not on easy terms with any of his neighbors, but if such a female were residing beneath Lady Evelina Wesley’s roof, he thought it might serve him well to make himself known at Wildings Hall. “So, Miss Smith, shall I kiss you again?”
“Yes, if it pleases you.”
“More than I can say,” he responded.
He placed his lips over hers once more. How beautifully she kissed him in response. He felt her hands become laced about his neck again.
He was just about to draw back again and tease her a little more when a child’s voice suddenly called out, “Unhand my sister, you blackguard.” He released Miss Smith, but only in time to see a small blur race at him and strike him on the arm with what proved to be a wooden sword.
“William,” the lady cried. “Oh, do stop at once, my love. You are quite mistaken—the gentleman was not hurting me.”
By the time she had finished speaking, Rotherstone had caught the boy up in one arm, taken his toy sword out of his hand and was now wrestling with a wildly wiggling child.
“Enough, William,” Miss Smith said quite forcefully. “You must forgive him, sir. He is my brother and quite protective. Truly, Will, he did not hurt me, not in the least.”
He finally desisted. Rotherstone held him over his hip as the boy, resting parallel to the ground, looked up at his sister. “But I saw him,” he said. “He was holding you so tight you could not escape.”
The lady’s smile was both amused and yet painfully guilt stricken. “I know it may have appeared like that, my darling, but, indeed, the gentleman was, er, supporting me, for I had felt very faint of a sudden.”
Rotherstone restrained a chuckle and, righting the boy, set him on his feet.
Young William craned his neck to look up at him. “Is this so?” he asked.
“Yes,” Rotherstone returned gravely. “I came upon your sister and I could see at once that she had grown frightened, as lost as she was on Rotherstone’s lands, for her face was the color of chalk. She tottered as I drew near. There was nothing for it but to hold her uprigh
t. Tell me, is she generally so cowhearted?”
William glanced at his sister. “N-no,” he responded with an uneasy frown. “That is, I do not know. She has no fear of horses and will even take corners with her gig at a spanking pace. But I have never seen her lost at night. Perhaps she did lose heart.”
‘Miss Smith’ knelt beside the lad, who Rotherstone thought could not have been more than six or seven. Slipping her arm about her brother, she said, “Dearest, do tell me why you are here.Tis very late, and you ought to be in your bed.”
A smile, very much like the one he had seen on Miss Smith’s lips, brought dimples to the boy’s freckled complexion. “I saw you from my window when you crossed the lawn. I thought you might be having an adventure, and I wanted one, too.”
“Were you near when I discovered the gate? In the walnut grove?”
He nodded.
“Was Frisky with you?”
He nodded again.
The lady smiled so warmly that something in Rotherstone’s heart began to ache.
“I understand perfectly, but I do not think Nurse will be so forgiving, do you?”
“Of course not, for she is very old. But I left my bed stuffed with pillows, so she will not have known that I escaped.”
He watched Miss Smith struggle within herself, and several times a new smile threatened her countenance. She was valiant to the end, however, and upon rising nodded seriously. “That was quite well done, and I hope it will serve, for I do not like the notion at all that Nurse should give you a dressing-down, and all for a little night’s escapade.” She then turned to Rotherstone. “We shall bid you good-night.”
He retrieved the lantern and, handing it to her, addressed William. “Would you care to ride on my shoulder as far as the gate?”
William’s expression brightened, but he wisely glanced at his sister for permission. She nodded, and without hesitation Rotherstone swept him up and perched him on his shoulder. “You may put your hand across my head for balance if you like,” he suggested.
The boy did so, and after shifting his fingers away from his eyes, Rotherstone addressed Miss Smith. “Will you lead the way?”
“Of course.”
* * * * * * * * *
Throughout the journey back to the stream, Evelina took great care to keep Will from exposing their true identities. She spoke on any number of inconsequential subjects, such as the pleasures to be found in London and the current state of the July weather, so that he was kept from revealing who she was. But only as she passed through Devil's Gate did she realize she had not learned the gentleman’s name. By the time she turned to inquire, he was gone.
Later, after having seen William to his bedchamber and tucked between the streets, Evelina returned to her own room and slowly began dressing for bed. Her thoughts were full of Rotherstone’s secretive guest, who had found her trespassing on Blacklands, who had taken her in his arms and who had kissed her oh-so-thoroughly. With her skirts falling in a heap at her feet, she pressed her hands to suddenly hot cheeks. The knowledge that in the end she had permitted so passionate a kiss suddenly dawned on her. Good heavens. How could she have allowed a complete stranger to kiss her so . . . well, so wondrously? What must he think of her?
Worse, however, was her fervent hope that she might meet him again very soon if for no other reason than to assure him that she was not in the habit of permitting such liberties to any gentleman, much less a perfect stranger.
She sat down on the bed, pondering the unusual nature of the entire adventure. Was there, for instance, a special meaning to the fact that only when she had worked up sufficient courage to open the gate and pass onto Rotherstone’s estate, had such a wonderful kiss come to her?
But these thoughts were madness. There was no connection beyond the fact that in her wickedness at having trespassed onto Blacklands, Lord Rotherstone’s guest had felt no need whatsoever to treat her like a lady. Her own iniquity brought that kiss down on her head, and she would be a fool to think of it in any other manner.
Her thoughts turned from the stranger to her pursuit of the smuggler’s treasure. She wondered how it was she had not found the well that had been clearly marked on the map.
Picking up her gown and hanging it in her wardrobe, she moved to her cloak, which had been tossed across a chair near the door. Removing the map from the pocket, she unfolded it. She carefully avoided tearing the delicate and almost crumbling edges as she once more examined the crude drawing.
The well was clearly marked on the map, but she had seen nothing of it on Rotherstone’s property. The map was dated 1652, so it was possible that an old well could have been torn down decades ago. She wondered if there was someone living who would know of an old well.
One thing for certain: She did not feel she could continue her search on her own. She needed Rotherstone’s support, and because she was not acquainted with him, she would have to involve someone who was. Any of her neighbors would do. Besides, she wanted to include them. She had many friends among the local gentry, and she knew quite well, because of all the local legends about a smuggler’s buried treasure, that many of them would take great delight in participating in a hunt for the treasure.
As she scrutinized the map, she could see that all the local estates were very well delineated. The major ones were marked, those belonging to Sir Alfred Monceaux, Mr. Crookhorn, Mr. Rewell, Mr. Fuller and Colonel Carfax.
There was only one thing to be done: She must bring all her neighbors together and present them with her extraordinary find. She debated whether or not to tell them that she had made an initial exploration of Rotherstone’s property, but in the end thought she would only do so if she felt it necessary.
She would certainly not tell anyone of having kissed Rotherstone’s handsome and quite wicked guest. Only, who was he, she wondered, and how soon would she meet him again?
***
Chapter Two
On the following day, Evelina sat in her drawing room surrounded by a significant representation of the local gentry. She had summoned them all for the purpose of sharing the ancient map with them and could scarcely contain her excitement.
From the time she had risen from her bed that morning, she had been aware of a change within herself. Ever since she had opened Devil’s Gate and ventured onto Rotherstone’s property, a sense of adventure had begun to envelop her like a warm cape on a blustery March day. Though she could not explain it precisely, she felt more like herself than she had on any day before.
Clutching her hands tightly together, she glanced from one visage to the next, noting the shock on each face, for she had just told them that she had discovered a most valuable clue as to the whereabouts of the smuggler’s treasure, though she did not say precisely what.
“You believe you know where the treasure is buried?” Sir Alfred queried, his brow furrowed in disbelief. “I am all astonishment. Where? How did you come by such knowledge?”
“As to the location,” she responded, “the treasure appears to be buried somewhere on Blacklands.”
The expressions of those present turned to despair. She thought she understood the nature of the combined hopelessness and said, “But surely if there was sufficient proof, Lord Rotherstone would support our efforts to find the treasure.”
Lady Monceaux said, “There has always been speculation that Blacklands is the location of the treasure. Every tale I have ever heard suggests as much. But if you think our neighbor is in the least disposed to be of use to us, then you have not been listening to our opinions of his, well, his obnoxiousness.”
Evelina was surprised. In general, Lady Monceaux did not speak so heatedly on any subject.
“What is your opinion, Sir Alfred?” Evelina asked. “Do you think he will be completely disinclined to be of use to us?”
He shook his head. “He is an impossible man.”
“Is there no one here who can give me hope?” she asked, half-smiling as she glanced round the group.
George Fu
ller snorted. “He would help us just as swiftly as he would swim to France on the next tide.”
Annabelle Rewell, quite shatter-brained, sighed heavily. “He has the broadest pair of shoulders in three counties.”
Her brother, Stephen Rewell, younger by a year, gave her a hard nudge. “What a ninnyhammer you are.”
Their father, Henry Rewell, interjected, “Enough, the pair of you.” He then addressed Evelina. “Rotherstone is unfortunately a very hard man. I wish I could offer you some encouragement, some hope, but I cannot. You would have better luck persuading an eel.”
Evelina pondered Rotherstone for a moment. She realized he was an earl and therefore used to traveling in the first circles. As the daughter of an earl herself, she fully understood the impact such an exalted rank could have on any setting. What she could not understand, however, was why Rotherstone had expressed so much hostility toward his neighbors, or why he had shunned their society generally.
Her enthusiasm began to wane.
Mary Ambers shuddered. “I hope none of you are expecting me to ask him for his assistance, for I shan’t do it. The last time I requested a donation for the orphanage, he nearly bit my head off.”
“I daresay he was not so polite as that, either,” James Crookhorn suggested.
“Well, he did ask what he had to do with a lot of useless brats.”
A murmur of disapprobation flowed about the disenchanted neighbors.
Oh, dear, Evelina thought. This is not at all a propitious beginning. “But he should be approached. Would not you all agree as much?”
Faint shrugs and grimaces returned to her.
“The task must fall to someone, I suppose,” Lady Monceaux murmured.
“I think you have expressed your opinions quite enough,” Sir Alfred said, addressing his wife.
“Yes, yes, of course,” she returned.
Evelina was irritated by this rebuke and watched as Lady Monceaux tightened her lips, a faint blush rising on her cheeks. She had been in company with Sir Alfred and his wife several times since taking up residence at Wildings, and it seemed to her that the baronet was not always kind to his spouse.