The Highwayman's Bride (10 page)

To one side was a brick wall, partially visible beneath the filtered rays of a cloud-covered moon. Aiden stood talking to another, their voices muffled by the distance. From a stable door Morley led a large horse and in one swift lift, her husband seated himself in the saddle.

Tess pressed herself against the French doors and her fingers clutched at the latch. She opened the door and listened.

“Are you sure the goods will be there?”

“Aye, m’lord. Our informant said there’d be four. Tonight is the first.”

Four what? Did Aiden intend to hold up four carriages?

“And is everything in place?”

“Aye.”

Aiden reached inside his jacket and withdrew the pistol.

“Oh, Aiden.” Her white breath spread across the icy window. “Why?”

Though her words were whispered, it was as if he’d heard her and he glanced up toward their room. She shrank from view, allowing the curtains to drop back into place.

With a tug of the reins, Aiden directed his horse through the archway that led out to the streets of London.

He’d gone thieving again.

Tess pushed away from the window and eyed the doorway to the bedchamber. If Aiden Masters, Earl of Charnley, thought he could come and go from her bedroom, he had better think again. Quickly she slipped off her gown, fingering the tiny satin-covered buttons, remembering Aiden’s touch and what it had aroused in her.

As if burned, the dress fell from her fingertips and she scooped up her linen nightgown, slipping it over her head.

Standing in the middle of the room, she assessed each piece of furniture. She needed to be able to move it
and
for it to hold in place because Aiden would not be a happy man to be shut out of his own bedchamber on his return.

“See if I care, my lord,” she whispered into the silence.

The only piece easy to move was the chaise. Tess dragged it across the room, tipping the ornately carved backrest beneath the door handle to prevent the door from being opened. After testing it several times she stepped back with a satisfied smile.

Her gaze lit on the dress still draped over the chaise. “How appropriate.” Her husband may have helped remove her dress, but he would not reenter the marital chamber.

…

Grateful for the cloak of darkness, Aiden followed the winding roads out of London, taking the country turnpike and then heading eastward.

Underfoot, the frozen land proved perilous and made his progress slow, the icy wind cutting him to the quick. He should be grateful, for at least it kept his heated thoughts of Tess at bay.

According to his informant, Nash intended to transport the shipment of Veuve Clicquot up the Thames under darkness. The swap was meant to happen at five a.m. before the roads and river traffic awoke.

With Britain long at war with the French, smuggling Madame Clicquot’s champagne had become big business, one at which Nash appeared to be quite successful. Why, even at the Bancroft’s soiree there’d been a few bottles discreetly passed around.

God, how he wished he’d never set eyes on Nash, and more importantly that his sister Mary had never encountered the bastard.

Charming and quite the ladies’ man, Nash had been present at several galas Mary had attended three summers ago just before Aiden had been deployed a second time to the Peninsula.

Mary and Nash had married by special license, as he had married Tess. But there the similarity between the marriages ended.

Mary had been in the flush of love until Nash’s fist had slammed into her jaw the first time.

Nash apologized. The first time. The second, and the third. Then he’d stopped apologizing and had disappeared, taking the jewels Mary had inherited after their mother’s death.

Florian Nash had charmed Mary, married her, brutalized her, and walked out as if nothing had happened, taking everything she owned except for her destroyed soul. That, he had left behind.

As Aiden neared the village of Hornbrow on the Thames estuary, he reined in Phantom and eyed the small wharf ahead. He counted off the number of moored schooners—six in all. But which one was Nash’s?

Two hours later, as dawn cast its appearance in the east and the gray churning waters of the Thames were on the wane, Aiden shifted from his hiding place.

Harland Proctor, one of his contacts, strode toward him. “I’m sorry, m’lord,” the wiry old seaman said, doffing his cap as he came alongside, “but Nash must’ve got wind something was up. I played me part like a drunk rolling home late and tried to gain access to each boat. There’s no sight of ’im.”

Disappointment and disbelief swelled in Aiden’s chest. “None?”

Proctor shook his head. “Angus, the bosun on the Lanyard, the schooner at the end,” he said thumbing toward the jetty, “he said there’d been another alongside ’em, but they upped anchor not long after midnight and skedaddled downriver.”

“Did he know the cargo they carried?”

“Afraid not.”

“Hell and damnation, this is the second time in a week, Proctor. How is word getting through to him? It seems Nash has an informant who is more reliable than ours.”

“Or they be working both camps.”

From behind him, Phantom whinnied and nudged at Aiden’s back. He turned to the horse, rubbing a hand down his long black nose. “Yes, I know you’ve had enough of waiting.” The feeling was definitely mutual.

Aiden squeezed his eyes closed, wishing he were elsewhere. In a warm bed with Tess.

His eyes flew open.

Lust. Simply lust.

Disheartened, he headed for home. After hours in the saddle and barely able to keep upright, he arrived back at Cadogan Square.

He tossed the reins to a stable hand and headed indoors. Ignoring a fussing Morley, he dragged his aching body up the stairs, teased by memories of the last few moments he’d shared with Tess. The sensual curve of her neck. The glide of her lustrous hair as he’d tangled his fingers in its silken curls. Kissing her.

Despite an all-encompassing exhaustion, his nether regions stirred.

He went to open the door to his bedchamber. The handle didn’t budge.

His brows furrowed and he stared at the door as if he’d made a mistake. He tried again and again and again, shouldering the door to no avail.

“Tess, open up.”

Nothing.

He hammered at the door, fist connecting with wood until it rattled in its hinges.

Still nothing.

“M’lord?”

Aiden twisted to see Morley standing at the top of the landing. “Might I suggest you use another room for now?”

Aiden tried the door again.

“Get some sleep, m’lord. You’ve had a long night.”

“And a bloody unsuccessful one.” Aiden shot a frustrated glare toward the still closed door. Unless he kicked it in, it was fruitless. Spinning from the physical rejection, he strode down the hallway, entered the room farthest away and slammed it closed behind him.

Hours earlier he’d felt joy at being with Tess. Something he hadn’t felt…ever. And it had scared him.

His wife was not like other women he’d met, and certainly nothing like Lillian. And now she’d locked him out.

…

“Good morning, Tess, I hope you slept well.”

Aiden’s curt tone interrupted her tightly controlled calm, sending her nerves skyrocketing in an instant.

Dark circles shadowed his bloodshot eyes. The normally fine lines at their edges deepened. He’d changed from the dark trousers and jacket he’d worn last eve into a soft brown morning suit, his snowy white neckcloth tied to perfection.

She offered him a tempered smile. “Of course,” she answered, determined to keep her voice level and curtail her guilt. “Did you not?”

His mouth thinned. “You know damned well I didn’t. There seems to be a problem with the door to our bedchamber.”

“None that I know of.” She took a bite of her buttered toast. A few minutes ago she had chewed the fresh crusty bread with relish. Now it tasted as delectable as parchment.

His eyes narrowed, the color morphing into the darkest of storms. Tess forked a mouthful of the smoked fish kedgeree and nodded toward the still steaming dish on the buffet. “Do try some; it’s delicious.”

“Did you not hear me knocking, or did your overindulgence of the cherry wine cause a bout of sudden deafness on your part?”

With precise efficiency she placed her fork on the plate, then using the linen napkin she dabbed at her mouth. “No, my lord, I heard you.”

Aiden stopped serving himself and the spoon clattered back onto the dish. He snatched at a napkin, shook it out and took a seat opposite her. “So why did you block it? Or is this another one of your games?”

“No game, simply reinforcing my rule.”

“Rule? You threatened to oust me unless I married you. I would have thought that was enough.”

“No. It is not.”

Aiden pushed his plate away. “I’m tired, Tess. I rode all night with little results or sleep, and when I came home, you, my dear wife, would not even let me reside in my own chamber. What else do you want?”

“If you want sympathy from me for your nightly escapades, then you are sadly looking in the wrong direction. You will get none. And unless you curb your nocturnal sojourns, neither will you come near me in the…ah bedchamber, or even kiss me, Lord Charnley. Not while you’re roaming the highways for ill-gotten gain.”

Tess witnessed his shock, his pupils blackened coal. His jaw tightened, the pulse there visibly throbbing.

He pushed away from the table and stood. “As you wish. We leave for Charnley in one hour. Be ready.”

Chapter Nine

A new dawn

A new life

Beware of what you wish for.

Mirabelle’s Musings

December 1813

Aiden didn’t utter a word the entire journey to Charnley, and Tess chose not to ask him one question, despite there being many on the tip of her tongue.

How long were they staying?

What would be expected of her?

And was he heading out on the road again?

But mostly…why did he take such risks? Was he in such dire financial straits that he was forced to rob strangers?

With no answers, Tess settled back, realizing that whatever Aiden’s answers were, they did not really matter, because she would not be staying long.

At least now she had a soupçon of control over her destiny. She had chosen whom to marry. Now, time was all she needed. Time to plan her next move. And then leave.

They stopped once to rest the horses and take light refreshments at an inn. Finally, as dusk fell and a white mist rose up from the chilled earth, the horses slowed as the driver turned into the entrance of a long driveway.

Aiden drew the blackout curtain aside. “Welcome to Charnley Hall.”

Though the gentling darkness precluded much, Tess gazed across the unfolding view of her new home. She turned to Aiden. His eyes were downcast, the fine lines at the corners and mouth now deeper and his pallor grayed. Even his voice hinted at his exhaustion.

“You need to sleep.”

His mouth thinned, and he emitted a derisive snort. “Sleep, my dear wife, is an overrated commodity.”

Part of her wanted to be angry with him. The other part admitted an inkling of sympathy. To do what you know is wrong, but feel forced for whatever reason, took a strong will.

“Is it so imperative you roam the roads every night? Are you so impoverished you must steal?”

“You think I…Charnley Hall is flourishing. It is a sizeable property—several hundred acres, in fact. We’ve hunting, a good climate for farming and crops. The village is wealthy by most standards. My lands are lucky to be slightly above the lowlands of the estuary and the soil is fertile and profitable.”

“What am I to do here?”

Aiden hesitated, looking at her as if her question confused him. “What had you intended to do once you’d escaped Luther’s clutches?”

“I wanted a small cottage with a garden to nurture perhaps.”

“Well, I can offer you that. Charnley dates back more than several hundred years, and our gardens are extensive. My mother loved her garden; her potager was renowned in the area for providing whatever medicinal plants were required, though you might need to wait until the thaw.”

“If your home is so prosperous why do you take to the roads?”

Aiden eased back in his seat, sliding the palms of his hands down his legs. “That, sweet Tess,” he said, fixing her with a hard stare, “is a question I’m not prepared to answer.”

The carriage drew to a halt, the horses stomping a few times as the driver steadied them. Aiden elbowed open the door and stepped down, turning to hold out a hand to her.

“Welcome to your new home, my dear.”

Tess stepped down to a blaze of candlelight flickering from the house’s multi-windowed façade. “You may not be bankrupted yet, husband, but if you allow your staff to waste as much candle as burns tonight, then you’ll be in the pauper’s house before long.”

Aiden stiffened. “’Tis Mary,” he said with a whisper. “She does not like the darkness.”

“Mary?”

“My sister. She is…”

A small boy came running out of the house. “You are here. You came back.”

Shock blasted across Aiden’s expression and he jerked backward. “What are you doing here?”

“Aunt Mary told me you were coming. I waited up. I’ve waited so long. She says you go on adventures and ride a big horse. I want to ride. Will you teach me?”

“Stop! That is enough.”

The boy’s monologue stalled as if ice water had been tossed over him. He stared wide-eyed at Aiden and his mouth quivered.

“Get inside. You should not be out of your nursery at this hour.”

“But—”

“Do as you are told. I will not have—”

“Alexander, Alexander.” A woman bustled out of the house and down the wide marble steps. She scooped up the child, who buried his head into her shoulder with a loud hiccupping sob.

“Unless you can control your charge with better efficiency, Miss Sloane, you may be required to seek placement elsewhere.”

The woman bobbed a curtsy, still clutching the child to her chest. “He saw your carriage arrive and became excited.”

“He needs to know his place.”

Tess listened to the exchange, shocked at Aiden’s harshness toward a small child. This needed to stop. “Excuse me,” she said, forcing a smile. She reached out and touched Aiden’s sleeve.

A mistake. His muscles flexed beneath her touch, a jolt of heat burning the tips of her fingers.

“It is mortally cold. I think we need to move inside, and this young man,” she said, offering the boy a soft smile, “needs to go to his bed. It is very late, Alexander.”

The young boy twisted in his nanny’s arms. “Who are you?”

Tess momentarily switched her gaze to look at Aiden. His expression remained rigid, eyes dark and narrowed. She turned back to the young boy. “I’m his Lordship’s new wife.”

A gasp burst from the nanny. “Oh, m’lady.” She bobbed a curtsy. “No one told us his Lordship was bringing home a wife.”

“No,” she said with a tired smile, “I suppose they did not. Now,” she said, bringing her cloak closer to ward off the chill of the December eve, though the icy bearing of her husband could have frozen the devil himself. “I think a hot chocolate is in order, do you not, Alexander?”

Delight evaporated the boy’s misery. “For me?”

“Definitely. And perhaps one for nanny too and if his lordship behaves himself, he can have one with extra sugar.”

A childish giggle ruffled from the boy’s chest. The nanny stood back, allowing Tess to enter the house that was to be her new home.

For a while, Tess. Remember it’s not permanent.

Once inside, she tipped back the hood of her cloak, unclipping it.

A hand brushed her shoulder, startling her for a second, as she knew that touch. Recognized it in a heartbeat.

Aiden.

“You seem to have taken to the role of lady of the house rather quickly.”

“I’m sorry if I overstepped,” she said, turning to face him as he drew her cloak off her shoulders.

His mouth was set in a grim line, exhaustion marking every aspect of his tall frame.

“Who was that boy?”

“Nobody.” Aiden tossed her cloak onto a nearby chair.

“But—”

“Don’t meddle, Tess.”

“He is but a child.”

“And not your concern.”

Just then a man rushed forward, tugging at his waistcoat. “M’lord, we weren’t expecting you tonight.” Obviously flustered, the butler cast her a glance.

Tess stepped forward. She would not let Aiden Masters tell her what to do. That was not his right. Not in
this
marriage! Holding out her hand, she offered the man a smile. “I’m Tess Stanhope.”

“Correction, my dear. Barlow, I’d like to introduce you to Tess, Countess of Charnley, my wife.”

The man’s jaw dropped and though he quickly recovered and bowed slightly, Tess noticed his struggle to hide his surprise.

“We are both tired from our travels, Barlow.”

“Would you like a meal sent up, m’lord?”

Aiden glanced at Tess.

“I’m not hungry, but I have promised the young boy and his nanny a hot chocolate. Perhaps you could arrange for it to be sent up to them.”

Barlow’s mouth twitched, but he said nothing, simply nodded.

“Would you like to bathe, Tess?”

Her cheeks heated. “No, tomorrow will be suitable. I need to sleep.”

“Then a bath for me, Barlow, if you please.”

Aiden held out his arm to her. “Shall we retire, my love?”

For a single breath Tess simply stared at his arm as if it were a snake. But with Barlow watching, his curiosity piqued, Aiden had left her no option. She linked her arm with Aiden’s, his free hand resting over hers. His touch was warm. Delicious. And it was not the first time such heat had passed between them. What was this strange reaction?

Desire?

Uncomfortable with the way her body reacted every time Aiden was close, every time he touched her, Tess swallowed back that thought.

One step up the staircase, however, and he halted, turning back to Barlow who hovered in the foyer. “You may extinguish the candles now I’m home. Mary is safe.” He glanced at her. “And besides, I would not want to end up in the poorhouse,” he said with a wink in her direction.

Her cheeks colored and she dragged her gaze from his, though to douse the flutter in her heart or the excitement curling in her belly proved increasingly impossible.

At the top of the stairs he drew her along a wide corridor toward a set of closed double doors and with a flourish opened them and stood back. “Our boudoir awaits, sweet Tess.”

Indecision warred, her mind racing. “Are you not roaming the byways this eve?” she asked.

His mouth curved upward, delineating the dimples on either side of his mouth, and she swallowed back the sudden flood of tempting desire.

Last night she had been able to lock him out.

Tonight?

“We are newlyweds; we need to present a picture of perfect harmony.”

Her throat seemed to have closed over, her breathing shallow. “We are nothing of the kind.”

“We had this conversation last eve. To those out there, we are. Nothing has changed, Tess.” Aiden closed the door behind them and except for the thunder of her heartbeat, silence surrounded them.

Tess refused to look at him and walked to the window. Darkness and an eddying mist cloaked the landscape, the towering poplars lining the driveway barely discernible. She trailed a finger down the chilly windowpane, wishing she could quench her sense of uncertainty.

“Tess?”

Aiden’s quiet voice seeped into her subconscious and she turned from the shadowed landscape to face her husband. He had removed his jacket and neckcloth and pulled his shirt loose from his trousers, unbuttoning it to his waist.

A gasp expunged from her lungs as she fixed her gaze on the jagged scar that ran from Aiden’s right shoulder and across his collarbone to just above his breastbone.

His mouth quirked at her attention. “The perils of war, I’m afraid,” he said with a shrug, “but thankfully not fatal, as was the wound received by the man who inflicted it.”

Tess couldn’t take her eyes off the puckered flesh.

“Did you think I received this as a result of my nightly escapades?” For the first time in what seemed days, his eyes once again lit with humor. “Sorry to disappoint your adventurous melodramatics, my love, but war, and not the hazards of the highway, was its origin.”

A knock interrupted.

“Come in.”

The door opened and two footmen entered carrying a large tub, along with several maids with extra tin jugs of steaming hot water, and their luggage.

They arrived in silence and left the same way, though Tess noticed the sly looks cast in her direction.

Left alone again, her nerves worsened as Aiden stripped off his shirt. “What are you doing?”

The shirt fell to the floor at his feet. “Bathing.” He sat on a chair close by, tugging off one boot, then the other, his hose following. Standing up, he reached for the buttons of his trousers and her heart skipped several beats.

“Stop! You can’t.”

His hands fell to his sides. “I’m tired, Tess. I’ve ridden all night and my body aches in places I’ve forgotten existed.”

Desperate to stop him, or not look at him, though she wanted to greatly, she spied a lacquered screen to one side of the fireplace. “Place that in front of the tub,” she said, waving to the carved oriental screen.

His brows rose as he looked at her. “And here I was thinking you might want to scrub my back.”

“You thought wrong.” But to her humiliation she
had
thought it.

“Shame. Such intimacy for newlyweds.”

“And you need to remember, my lord, that we are married in name only.”

“And yet we share a room.”

“For…the act,” she said, tossing a hand skyward. “It is all an act.” Was it really? Her body seemed to think otherwise.

Chuckling, Aiden reached for the screen nevertheless, and positioned it in place. Moments later, Tess heard the water splash against the tub as he descended into the steaming bath.

Her mouth dried, lips suddenly parched, and she sank down on the side of the bed, listening for every nuance. The water. The sound of soap lathering across his skin. She imagined caressing his scar. Across his naked body.

Oh, dear Lord, what was she doing…thinking. Springing to her feet, she reached for one of her small valises and wrenched it open, digging through the few clothes she’d packed. She found a nightgown.

“You want my help again tonight, Tess?”

The sound of Aiden’s voice halted her movements. “No. No. I can manage.”

“Are you sure?”

Her throat closed over. “I am,” she croaked. “I have a different gown today, the fastenings…” Her voice faded as Aiden’s rumbling laughter reached from behind the screen.

“Good thinking, otherwise you might have had to ask me again.”

She hurried to extricate herself from her traveling gown and into her nightwear before Aiden finished his bath, then pulled back the heavy coverlet and scrambled into bed. Moments later, he walked from the other side of the screen.

He wore a clean pair of trews—but that was all. Water droplets trailed down his torso and beneath the flicker of candlelight she spied the golden spiral of hair glistening across his chest and tapering down to the waistband of his trews.

Tess tried to swallow—and failed. Desire spiraled through her veins to the tips of her toes and back up, heating her cheeks to a burning scarlet.

“Do not move another inch closer, my lord.”

“I need sleep, Tess.”

“Then take the floor.”

One dark brow arched. “I think we’ve been down this
road
before.”