by Lisa Bingham
“Such feelings cannot happen so fast,” he murmured, not realizing he’d said the words aloud.
“They can if one is lucky enough to circle the globe, search hither and yon, and return home to find his heart-mate but thirty miles away from where he was born.”
“She is a riddle, isn’t she?”
“You have always enjoyed a puzzle.”
“She has endured so much.”
“Yet, when you walk into the room, her smile cannot be dimmed.”
Slater eyed Will in surprise.
“Trust me, my friend. You may have been too blind to notice, but the rest of us have seen it. Haven’t we, Marco?”
The Spaniard nodded solemnly. “In matters of the heart, you have found your equal.”
Slater straightened in the saddle, still not entirely comfortable with having his emotions so easily dissected. “Then we must do our best to retrieve her.”
Marco and Curry grinned.
“I take it you have a plan?” Curry inquired.
Touching his heels to his horse’s flanks, Slater drawled, “Indeed,” then galloped away from the knoll.
It took only a few minutes to join the upper road. Turning from the rutted path into the foliage bordering either side, he led his mount toward the rendezvous point. Slater prayed that he could keep a clear head on his shoulders to see the next few days through.
Seeing Clayton and Louis waiting in the assigned location, Slater came to a halt asking, “Any news?”
Louis abandoned the study of his cravat. “Mais oui. Hans and Rudy are behind us a bit, seeing to things, but we thought we’d best warn you that we encountered a specific nuptial bidder midway through his journey and detained him just as you asked.”
“Which one?”
Clayton brushed at the dust clinging to his coat, all to no avail. Compared to the eternally impeccable dress of his partner, he never ceased to look rumpled. But his brown eyes sparkled with fun and a pair of dimples winked in his cheeks. “I do believe it’s the one you’ve been waiting for most of the day. That damned bilge-assed naval officer, Peter Torbidson.”
“You’re sure?”
Clayton and Louis exchanged knowing glances, but it was Clayton who spoke. “Quite, quite sure. We boys met up with him at the Bull and Finch of all places. We plied him with brandy—”
“Ale—”
“Was it ale first?”
“It was ale.”
“Then brandy—”
“Wine.”
“Really?”
“Wine.”
“Well, whatever the order of the spirits, we made sure he was well and snockered. Meantime, we delved for certain delectable bits of information.”
“And …” Slater prompted.
“Nobody from the Crawford household has ever seen the man. All of the arrangements were made through a courier.”
“What about Percival Humphreys, Crawford’s personal secretary?”
“He has never met him either,” Louis supplied. “In fact, Torbidson acted most put out that Humphreys had not come to meet him at the docks.” He and Clayton exchanged indecipherable looks. “I fear the man has set too much store on a hero’s welcome. No one really appears to give a damn that he’s returned at all.”
“Then he’s the one we want.” Slater’s posture became stiff, determined. His eyes hardened and deepened to the color of obsidian. “We’ll take his place and see to it that Torbidson is the man selected to marry Aloise. Only when her father believes a title is within his grasp will he lower his guard.”
Curry nudged his horse closer, speaking lowly to keep his advice in confidence. “I think you should wait and consider all your options. This isn’t the only means available to disrupt the wedding ceremony.”
“What else do you suggest?”
Clayton’s brows lifted. “Slater could disguise himself as a priest—”
“A friar,” Louis corrected.
“—and perform the ceremony himself.”
Slater shot a scowl in their direction. “This is our chance. Take Torbidson before anyone can get a good look at his face.”
Clayton nodded. “This is indeed our chance. Actually, I’m quite sure that Providence has put a hand in the whole affair.”
Staring at Slater, Will objected, “You can’t be serious. You aren’t thinking of masquerading as that chap.”
“Not at all,” Slater drawled.
“Thank heavens.”
“I have left that honor to you.”
“What?”
“It’s settled,” Slater said, ignoring Will’s outburst.
“Damn it, why impersonate anyone. Why don’t you just ride in and claim the woman?”
“In order for Crawford’s downfall to be complete, it must occur in the company of the people he strives so diligently to impress. His precious collection of penniless aristocracy and powerful government officials. Once the truth has been uncovered, he will never be admitted into society again. The wealth and influence he has courted for years will be shattered.”
Slater gestured to the other men. “Take your positions as outlined.” He tied a black scrap of fabric around the top half of his face and settled the ragged holes that had been burned into the weave over his eyes.
Clayton and Louis followed suit with a great deal of glee, but Will was much more reluctant. “Slater, I don’t think this is wise. I’ve no talent for playacting— you know I speak the truth.”
“Relax, Will. I trust your limited talents.”
“But…”
“Come, Curry. You’ve always enjoyed a lark in the past. Consider this the grandest of all.”
Only after Slater had thundered away in the direction of the ambush site did Curry speak again. “Damnation, that man has lost his wits.”
“Now, Curry,” Louis soothed. “It will be fun. You’ll see. Don’t you think, Clayton?”
Clayton eyed Louis.
Louis eyed Clayton.
Both men grinned.
“What has the two of you looking like a pair of retired priests locked in a brothel?”
The pair laughed out loud.
“Wait until you see the chap,” Clayton said, spurring his horse into a gallop.
Louis chortled. “Wait until you see the hats.”
Chapter 19
“Does everyone understand the plan?”
Slater looked at each of his men one by one, seeing that—despite the unusual nature of their tasks—they would not fail him.
“Good. Assume your position in Crawford’s household—quietly, carefully. Remember … one wrong step and the entire situation will fall like a house of cards.” He eyed Clayton gravely. “Your timing is especially critical. You must return with the proper authorities listed in your instructions—those not being bribed by Crawford.”
The men nodded and began to disperse until only Miss Nibbs was left in the office. Miss Nibbs and the portrait of Jeanne Alexander Crawford.
“You will not fail, Master Waterton.”
Slater eyed her in surprise. It had been years since anyone had called him by his real name. In all of England, there was only Miss Nibbs to remember who he’d once been. A simple schoolmaster. A naive young boy.
“I am proud of you,” Miss Nibbs whispered. Then, gazing up at the woman in the portrait, she added, “Miss Jeanne would be too.”
The old lady was nearly to the door before Slater stopped her. “Miss Nibbs?”
Her brows lifted.
“You’ve been a true and loyal friend.”
“I missed you, my boy.”
“I’m sorry you were inadvertently dragged into this affair.”
“My only regret is the time that has been wasted. The lives.” Her voice became low and fervent. “See that he pays. See that he pays for what he has done.”
Her lips tilted in a rare, encouraging smile, and then she was gone.
Slater slowly t
urned to eye the portrait that had witnessed the interchange. “So … we have come full circle. Fifteen years ago, you asked for my help and I refused it. For that, we were all damned to a hell of one sort or another. But tonight… tonight I will see to it that all debts are paid in full.” His hand closed around the locket. “That I swear to you.”
Then, turning, he made his way to the bowl and pitcher waiting beside his shaving kit. The time had come for Slater McKendrick to step from behind the man he’d created.
“Get in there—and don’t be trying to take any trips by night, either!”
Aloise stumbled as her father threw her into the bedchamber at the end of the hall. The hems of her skirts tangled about her ankles, causing her to fall, but she did not miss the snarled instructions he added. “Be ready by the stroke of seven tomorrow evening, or you will answer to me, Daughter. This time … you will wear the rubies. All of them.”
The door slammed shut, the key turned in the lock, and Aloise was alone.
No. Not quite alone.
Something had changed since she’d donned the elaborate earrings and bracelet. Something had …
She rose somewhat unsteadily. Her eyes skipped to the top of the bureau, tarried, then widened in disbelief. There, gleaming on the dressing table was the necklace she had left at Ashenleigh. But how …
Even as the thought raced through her head, Aloise became aware of a presence. A warmth that seeped into her soul long before she turned.
A hand appeared through the slit of her bed curtains, drawing back the heavy brocade and exposing the one face, the one form, she had longed to see the entire day.
Slater smiled at her from a face shaved free of the dark brooding whiskers. Her eyes widened as the blunt planes and angles of his face revealed a private humor and open desire that she had grown accustomed to seeing during their brief night of passion. “In your hasty relocation of sleeping arrangements, you left something behind.” He gestured to the necklace and grinned. “I thought you might need it.”
“Slater?”
Ignoring her breathy query, he gazed about him and clucked in disapproval. “Personally, I like my taste in furnishings far above those of your father. He has no essence of style. None whatsoever.”
“Slater,” she breathed again, staring at him as if he were a mirage. But he continued to sprawl on her bed, lacing his hands behind his head, resting his back against the frame, and crossing his legs at the ankles. He looked thoroughly relaxed, thoroughly devil-may-care.
And thoroughly wonderful.
“Is that all you can say after I scaled a wall, risked life and limb, then—”
Before he could finish his teasing remark, she had scooped her skirts to her knees, bounded to her feet, and rushed to him. She fell full-length on his body, grasped his head with her hands, and began scattering kisses over his face. That lean, angular, heart-stopping face.
When at last she paused for breath, he uttered a low, self-satisfied, “Now, that’s what I like. A wifely welcome after a difficult day tending to business.”
His teasing remark had barely been uttered before she snared his mouth for a more thorough caress, one that dissolved in seconds into a fierce joining of lips, of tongues, of minds.
When at last she drew back, his smile was somewhat sober, self-deprecating. “I have not had much luck in keeping my promise to see you safe.”
“You’re here now.” She soothed his brow, touched the scar creasing his cheek. “I knew you would come.”
Her statement caused him to eye her in wonder. “Why would you think such a thing when I failed you?”
She shook her head. “You’ve done nothing of the sort. It is my father who has failed me.” Rising, she sat on the edge of the bed. “Failed me and humiliated me.”
“What happened, Aloise?”
Her lips grew tight in remembered anger and disgust. “He took me to meet his candidates. Only two of the six arrived by supper, and my father decided against waiting any longer. He had me stand on a dais and circle beneath their avid gaze as if I were a slave to be bought. The men—Lord Ravenaugh and a certain naval officer—even demanded to look at my teeth.”
Slater pulled her fast against his chest, tucking her head beneath his chin.
“They tried to buy me, Slater. They shouted out what they would give my father, the favors, the money, the influence. Then my father decided on a match and the deal was sealed.”
Groaning in fury, she leapt to her feet and paced the width of the room. A bare, empty room. “He even dressed me to his advantage,” she cried, holding her arms out to display the garnet gown with its severe tailoring and black lace. “He dressed me in this awful dress”—her hand lifted to the earrings dangling against her neck—“then ordered me to don his jewels. The Bengal Rubies. No man can resist them,” she said sorrowfully. “They might not want me, but they all want these gems. You can’t imagine how terrified I was knowing that it was only a matter of time before he discovered the missing necklace.”
Slater’s gaze dropped to the piece on the bureau.
“The collection is very beautiful.”
Aloise felt a sting of uncertainty. Her relationship with Slater was so new, so untried, that she wondered if he, too, placed a great deal of importance on the rubies.
Her thoughts must have been written on her face because Slater stood and prowled toward the necklace. As he reached to touch them, Aloise felt a pang of hurt as his fingers traced the golden birds, the tigers, the ostriches, the antelope. Like a blind man given sight, he examined each link, each gleaming stone.
When he moved to take them, her eyes closed in defeat and she realized the ultimate extent of her folly. She, who had vowed to live her life alone, she, who had reassured herself she would never need, had broken her own promises. Somehow, between that instant when she’d washed ashore to find herself confronting a man’s boots and those idyllic hours of lovemaking in the Rose Room, she had given away her heart.
She heard the slight rattle of the stones. “Oh, Aloise, do you trust me so little?”
When she looked up, he gazed at her with those dark, licorice eyes, his heart reflected there. His soul.
“ ‘She is more precious than rubies; and all the things thou canst desire are not to be compared unto her,’” he quoted, his voice low, vibrant. Real. “Never doubt me, Aloise. Never doubt my love.”
Love.
The word shimmered in the room, startling them both. But Slater didn’t appear upset by his choice of words. His eyes revealed an acceptance, relief, and then an untold joy. One that wrapped her heart in a layer of warmth that could never be dampened.
“Aloise … my wife … my love. As long as there is breath in this body, I will cherish you above any treasure.”
With that, he drew back his arm and hurled the necklace into the night. Aloise heard a faint splash, a gurgle, and knew the jewelry had disappeared somewhere in her father’s prized ornamental pond.
“Slater?” she breathed, scarcely able to credit what she had seen, what she had heard.
“I love you, Aloise. I don’t deserve you, not after all I’ve done, all the time I’ve wasted in helping you. But bastard that I am, I love you.”
He took a step, but Aloise was running to meet him halfway, was being clasped in his embrace. His arms closed about her, tacitly offering her all she needed in this world: strength, passion, tenderness, hope.
“You truly love me, Slater?”
“More than life itself.”
She held him tightly, burrowing his confession deep in her memory. She would never forget this hour, this moment. The scent of him. The feel of him. The joy that blossomed in her soul.
“And you, Aloise? Have I still a sliver of your heart?”
Kissing his neck, his chin, she said, “You have it all.”
They fell on the bed, that narrow, unimaginative bed. To Aloise, it could have been the divan of kings. She had all she needed now.
Her home was this man’s arms, whether it be the splendor of Ashenleigh or the most primitive surroundings.
It took them only a moment to strip off their clothing. Once they were bare to one another’s gazes, their passion adopted a reverence.
“Will you continue to trust me, sweet?” Slater asked. “No matter what the morning brings, no matter what is said.”
She nodded, knowing that there was still her father to contend with. Slater’s impulsive gesture would require him to retrieve the necklace again. But not tonight. Tonight belonged to them and them alone.
Drawing him to her, Aloise basked beneath Slater’s evident adoration, his gentleness, his passion. With each caress, she grew stronger. With each whispered compliment she grew more self-assured. Emboldened by their mutual feelings, she indulged her wildest fantasies, touching him, tasting him, kissing him. She absorbed each muscle, each valley, each vibrant ridge of his body. When finally he settled on her, joining her, filling her, she closed her eyes and held him tightly, knowing that—in this man—she had found what she’d sought for so long. Adventure, excitement, acceptance.
As well as an everlasting devotion.
Chapter 20
The door burst open, jarring Aloise awake.
“So, Daughter. You have purposely shamed me yet again.”
Blinking, Aloise focused on the looming shape of her father. Abruptly, she absorbed the weight of her husband’s body pressing against her from behind, the band of his arm tightening around her waist, and the way the sheets had been pushed far below their feet. She had no time at all to think before her father stepped aside to reveal a half dozen of his personal guards.
“Take that man out of here. Chain him and lock him in the cellar until I can deal with him.”
The liveried servants stormed forward. Automatically, Slater rolled over Aloise, shielding her with his body, but it was not she they were intent upon capturing. Yanking him from the bed, they hauled him outside.
“No!” When Aloise would have run after them, her father slammed his walking stick across the opening, barring her way.