The Bengal Rubies

by Lisa Bingham

  Once again, his lips tipped in the slightest of smiles. She could barely see the movement, but she felt the effects to her very toes.

  “Never fear, milady. Since your lapse into unconsciousness, I did naught but bind your wound, loosen your laces, and lighten your burden.”

  Her chin tilted rebelliously. “I am expected to thank you, I suppose.”

  “That is entirely your choice.”

  “Then you will forgive me if I do not.”

  He shrugged, not in the least bit discouraged. Instead, he turned his attention to the belongings beside him. The frayed pink silk riband from her chemise caught his gaze and he fingered it with the inestimable appreciation of a connoisseur.

  Aloise’s eyes widened at the sensual way he rubbed the delicate band, back and forth, back and forth, watching her to see her reaction. She knew she should say something to stop him—he was examining her underthings, her forbiddens—but she refused to give him the satisfaction. She might have lost a wee bit of control by fainting at the sight of blood, but she was no shrinking violet. No indeed.

  “You had a bit of a gash on your arm where the ball grazed you, but it did not prove necessary to stitch. It’s quite safe to look.”

  She hesitated, not sure she should do such a foolish thing, but his statement had emerged much like a challenge. Chancing a single glance, she saw that the sleeve of her gown had been cut away and a stark white bandage had been neatly wrapped around the exposed circumference.

  “I’ve been told I’m quite handy at doctoring such wounds. There shouldn’t be much of a scar.”

  The thought that he’d worked on her open flesh caused her stomach to roll, but she fought back the sensation.

  “I do believe you owe me an explanation in return for my ministrations.”

  “What would you possibly need to know?”

  “Did I hear you correctly when you claimed to have fallen overboard?”

  Her head jerked and all gruesome thoughts of her injury scattered to the wind. On the surface, the stranger’s query appeared quite natural, but Aloise sensed a wealth of depth beneath the simple question, as if he knew more about her situation than he was prepared to reveal.

  She eyed the careful arrangement of her belongings at his side, but there was nothing there that could have given her away. Nothing at all.

  “I believe that’s what I said,” she carefully stated.

  “Hmm. How convenient to have done so at a time when your things were already hidden on your person.”

  “Yes. Yes, it was.”

  “So why not wait for the sailors to retrieve you and continue on with your journey to …”

  “London. I am on my way to London.”

  A long silence followed her answer, one punctuated by the rasp of the wheels over gravel and the squeak of the harnesses. The stranger continued his scrutiny, intently, thoughtfully, though she could see little more than a sliver of his profile.

  “Tell me, mistress, from whom were you trying to escape?”

  “Escape? As I told you; I fell.”

  “Your fall was most fortuitous considering the number of people who were intent upon retrieving you.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “They appeared quite worried.”

  “Did they?”

  “In my estimation. In fact, I have been thinking that I should instruct my driver to return you to Tippington and your retinue.”

  When he would have tapped on the ceiling of the coach, she hurriedly snared his arm. “No!”

  “No?”

  His wrist was strong, finely boned.

  “I … do not wish to return.”

  “May I ask why?”

  Dodging his question, she released him and drew deeper into the shadows, hoping that they would conceal her own expression as well as they did his, but the angle of the moonlight seemed determined to thwart her efforts. “Have we left Tippington far behind?”

  He nodded, but did not speak.

  “I see.” The rush of shapes speeding past her window was entirely unfamiliar to her—but then, she had not been to England for years.

  “Where are we?”

  “Many miles north.”

  There was a definite haste to their travel. A reckless abandon. “We seem to be moving at a great clip.”

  “I thought it best.”

  Aloise didn’t even try to decipher that remark. Therein lay great danger.

  “If you could stop the coach, I won’t trouble you any further. I realize I must have interrupted your own schedule.”

  He didn’t move.

  Growing desperate and just a little frightened, she insisted, “You must let me go.”

  “Must I?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

  “Why ever not?”

  “If indeed you fell overboard, it would be very remiss of me to leave you unprotected in the wilds of Cornwall. You’ll need a change of clothes, a warm fire, and a soft bed. Then I shall have to notify whatever family you have in the area. No doubt, they would have made arrangements to fetch you from the ship. I’m sure they’re quite worried.”

  Aloise experienced a pang of foreboding. She did not relish having the man discover that she had no real home to speak of and her only family was the father who had tried over and over again to force her to his will.

  “Don’t you think that would be a wise thing to do?”

  “I suppose it would be … if I had family.”

  “Everyone has family of one sort or another. If you once had a mother, you must surely have a father. I do not believe that one so vibrant and lovely as you was hatched from an egg.” He continued to toy with the riband, brushing it between his finger and thumb with a sensual thoroughness. “On the other hand, if you are not who you claim to be …”

  The phrase held a distinct word of warning, as if he wished her to confess that her predicament was not as innocent as she would like it to appear. He abandoned the chemise and pierced her with a gaze that drilled into her very core.

  He knew something, of that she was sure. But what. What?

  Some time passed before she dared to inquire, “What do you intend to do with me?”

  He shifted slightly in his seat, his long legs spilling into the narrow aisle and crowding her unbearably. He radiated a heat she couldn’t ignore. He was so big, so uncomfortably, unconditionally male.

  “That depends entirely on who you are … and why pistol fire followed your rather inauspicious midnight swim.”

  No wonder he didn’t believe her tale. If she’d fallen overboard as she’d claimed, the sailors would have no reason to shoot at her. She couldn’t rely on her explanations of the stupidity of the crew. Not without explaining her entire situation.

  “You heard the shots?”

  “I did. As well as the commotion being made by your companions once they reached shore. They followed us for a time, you know. But through some careful maneuvering my coachman was able to lose them.”

  Staring at him consideringly, she wondered how best to proceed. She could tell him the truth—that she meant to escape her father and flee to London and a new life—but the explanation was weak to her own ears and would only result in her sounding like a petulant child. This man might side with her father and haul her back to Briarwood like a runaway filly.

  But what were her alternatives? What could she possibly say to allay his suspicions? “My traveling acquaintances did not want me to leave,” she finally stated, hoping the vague answer would satisfy him.

  Her hopes were in vain.

  “Why?”

  “I…” She could not think so quickly. He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and coming into such close contact with Aloise that she felt sure he filled the whole coach with his presence.

  When she did not answer, he provided his own explanation. “Mayhap they did not want you to go because you had taken someth
ing that did not belong to you.”

  She stared at him blankly. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Don’t you?”

  He returned to his former position, providing her with much needed breathing space, but the sensation of relief lasted only a moment. Then he reached into her bundle and held up the shimmering ruby necklace she’d hidden there.

  “Am I supposed to believe this is yours?”

  Chapter 5

  He thought her a thief.

  A thief!

  Aloise blanched. No wonder he’d gone to such lengths to abduct her. He thought she’d stolen that necklace and by keeping her until the owner was found, he could claim a handsome reward.

  True, she had taken the jewelry, but from her father. As far as Aloise was concerned, having the piece didn’t constitute stealing, per se. It did belong to her. It was part of her dowry.

  She realized she still had to convince this man of her ownership. Blast it all, dressed as she was in a simple gown and a distinct absence of ornamentation, she must look like a peasant who would have no access to pretty baubles.

  Summoning her haughtiest attitude, she peered down her nose at him. “You are quite mistaken. Those are mine, I assure you.”

  “Really.” The drawl of that single word was her judge and jury, proclaiming her guilty as tried. “Have you some proof of your claims?”

  The wind of superiority puffed from her sails as quickly as it had come. Desperately, she fought to think of something she could say to allay his suspicions. “O-one of the stones on the catch is missing.”

  “A detail which could have been determined upon a brief investigation.”

  “If it’s a reward you seek—”

  “The only reward I require is to ensure that justice is served.”

  His words rang with such a strength of conviction, Aloise was stymied. What was she going to do? She could try darting from the coach, but she needed the necklace and the coins to start a new life.

  “That sack and all its belongings are mine.” She lunged toward him, hoping to snatch the piece away, but his free arm snapped around her waist, trapping her against his chest. She became overtly conscious of the steely strength of his form, rigid muscles scattered with hair, strong arms, a corrugated stomach. Her senses were inundated with his scent as his embrace tightened, pulling her even more snugly to his body. One of his hands strayed to her thigh, tarried there, then climbed upward, ever upward to the swell of her hips.

  She forgot to struggle. She forgot her intent. Her heart thudded so strongly in her chest, she was sure that he could feel it. His fingers spread wide, clasping her skirts, rubbing them against her legs in a tantalizing fashion. Just when she believed she would be able to bear no more, he released her. Aloise immediately scrambled back into her seat, but her pulse continued to pound in a most alarming way.

  “Don’t.” It was the only word she could manage to force free.

  She waited for some scathing remark from the man, some colorful turn of phrase, but to her astonishment, he did not speak. In fact, she had the strangest sensation that she was not the only one who had been affected by that chance encounter.

  “I frighten you, don’t I?”

  She swallowed, not certain how she should respond.

  He leaned forward, snaring her chin and forcing her to meet his gaze. A fiery brilliance lingered there, burning her with its strength. “You should be frightened, little one. It is a very healthy emotion considering your dilemma.”

  Aloise was not sure if he referred to the threat of thievery or her being alone and unarmed.

  “Stop this coach!”

  Unfortunately, her command had little visible effect, and in fact, only amused him further. Releasing his hold, he leaned back against the squabs.

  “Once you’ve proven your ownership, I’ll let you go. In fact, I’ll gladly take you to your destination”— he shrugged—“save it be Africa. I don’t relish such a long sea voyage as of yet.” Lifting the necklace to the light spilling in from the coach lanterns, he challenged, “Come, maiden, prove what you will.”

  The words reverberated between them, and they both knew that Aloise had no way of doing such a thing. How could she convince him that the necklace was hers when she had nothing midst her belongings to substantiate such a claim?

  He waited patiently for her reply and she resisted the urge to kick him in frustration. Instead, she returned his verbal volley with, “Can you, sir, prove that it isn’t mine?”

  Though he didn’t immediately speak, she sensed an unexpected approval on his part, as if he were pleased with her show of defiance.

  “Mayhap I will.” He rapped on the roof of the coach. “Rudy, bypass the authorities for this evening. Continue to my estates.”

  A long pause followed then the driver answered somewhat uncertainly, “Yes, Cap’n.”

  The coach rocked and swayed and the tempo of the hooves’ clatter increased. Aloise glanced outside but the dark obscurity of the countryside offered her no clues as to their direction.

  The bearded stranger was the first to speak. “Since you are unwilling to make any claim toward a home here on England’s shores, I shall take you to mine.”

  “Then what?”

  “Then we’ll wait. Once we’ve arrived, I’ll send a messenger back to Tippington. If, in fact, you have stolen these jewels, such news will be easily obtained and I’ll return you to the authorities posthaste.”

  She had no fear of being apprehended by the law. Even if her father discovered she’d taken the rubies, he would not announce such a thing due to the ensuing scandal. But, if in the process of his investigation this man alerted her father to her whereabouts …

  Blast and bother. It would only take a whiff of rumor for Oliver Crawford to pursue her like the hounds of hell.

  “How long do you intend to wait for your news?”

  “A week should suffice.”

  “If there are no reports of stolen jewels?”

  “You and your bundle may continue on your way. In fact, I shall put my coach and driver at your disposal. In the meantime, you shall be my … guest. You may do what you will to convince me of the veracity of your claims. If indeed, you are the owner of these pretties, then a week in your presence should allow me a glimpse of the education of a lady. After all, breeding will out.”

  Aloise struggled to keep from frowning in annoyance. Drat it all. She should have paid more attention at Sacre Coeur. She’d spent so much time away from class the last few years she was at the school that her skills at needlework, card playing, and gossip had been sorely neglected. Instead, she’d spent her mornings in the library, filling her brain with such “useless” information as travel, philosophy, science, and mathematics.

  Still, she felt sure she could play the simp well enough to dampen his suspicions for a day or two. It shouldn’t take much longer than that to escape. She must have grown quite good at such endeavors if her father had been forced to hire so many bodyguards to keep her in tow.

  “Have we a deal?”

  “What alternate choices are you willing to give me?”

  “I could take you immediately to the authorities.”

  “That would never do.”

  “I thought not.”

  “Then I suppose I shall have to accede to your wishes.”

  “So it would seem.”

  “What guarantees do I have that you are not the worse evil? For all I know, you could be intent on ravishment.”

  He chuckled. “You have my promise as a gentleman.”

  “You’ve already told me you claim no such affiliation.”

  “True.” His voice dropped in timbre, becoming husky and slumberous. “In that case, you have only my word. I will not harm you. I cannot say the same about the authorities should you choose that route. The prisons in the area have a rather nasty reputation.”

  The coach rocked, turning into a narrow drive. Le
aves dusted the top of the conveyance, providing a scuttle of warning, a murmur of intrigue.

  “Please avail yourself of my hospitality.”

  The foliage parted to reveal a massive estate nestled on the rise of a hill. Several dozen candles glittered behind the windows like lightning bugs in a bottle.

  “Hospitality?”

  The phaeton slowed, making its approach.

  “Like you, I have been uprooted from my true home. However, I am not so without means that I cannot offer you proper food and shelter. Even if you are somewhat reluctant to accept my charity, it is yours to use and you must not hesitate to ask if there is something you require.”

  The conveyance rolled to a stop and he opened the door, stepping onto the pea-gravel of the drive. Turning, he extended his hand to help her alight. When she didn’t immediately comply, he added, “I assure you, the entire arrangement will be on the up-and-up. My housekeeper will serve as your chaperone if need be. After all, if you are as innocent as you claim, there would be no sense in saving you from one dire situation only to sully your reputation in the process.”

  “I appreciate your foresight,” she muttered, unable to prevent the slight tinge of sarcasm. But she couldn’t bring herself to move. He eyed her so intently, she wondered what thoughts he entertained.

  “Surely you must understand my predicament. As a law-abiding citizen, I should keep you here with me until the truth can be ascertained. After all, I have been willing to give you the benefit of the doubt.”

  Molten velvet. The tone of his voice drizzled over her nerves, causing her to hesitate.

  “Trust me, cherie.”

  For some inexplicable reason, Aloise found herself accepting his proffered hand. His grip was just as she’d remembered. Firm. Reassuring. His palm large enough to engulf her own.

  “Your fingers are cold.”

  “Yes.” She barely managed to form her response.

  “As well as the rest of you, I suppose?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then we shall have to see about finding a way to warm you.”

  When she stepped to the ground, stumbling slightly, he scooped her into his arms. She would have gasped, but she couldn’t gather enough air in her lungs for even that simple sound. A tingling effervescence pummeled her skin, and though she tried to convince herself it was the result of a lingering chill, she feared the explanation for her reaction was far from that simple.