Authors: t
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would do little to improve his mood. He laid a finger on his wide brimmed hat, picked up his saddle and strode down the plank to the wharf.
He never looked back.
Stormy raced around the forecastle and almost bowled Captain Simon over in her haste to follow. But the captain was a bit quicker.
“You can’t follow that man, Miss Mowbray. My orders are to bring you back to Bristol and your father will be waiting for you. This whole trip was nothing but a ruse to throw your pursuers off your trail. Of course, Mr. Despard was free to go his own way.”
Stormy disengaged her arm with determination. Lifting her chin, she stared into the captain’s eyes. “Captain Simon, I am not sure if you are married, or if the sea owns your heart.
But that man, who is quickly disappearing from sight, owns my heart. So, if you please, step aside, so I can rush after him.”
“Miss Mowbray, your father will have my head. Nay, he will take away my ship. I beg you to stay. If fate wants you to meet up with Mr. Despard again, it will happen.”
Stormy smiled grimly. “You don’t know me well, captain, I don’t wait for fate to decide what will happen in my future.” Dragging her cape around her like a suit of armor, she hurried after André.
She plunged heedlessly into the crowd milling about the docks and promptly bumped into a large man, himself in a hurry. Mumbling an apology, Stormy wanted nothing more than to keep André in her sight, though she had not thought out what she would do once she caught up with him.
A large meaty fist closed about the collar of her cape and she was drawn up within inches of the angry visage of the man she accidentally stumbled against. His piggish eyes stared daggers at her.
“No so fast, you little lout. Someone needs to teach you some manners.” He hauled out and slapped her hard across the cheek. Apparently, the sheen of tears in her eyes and her stunned gasp were not enough satisfaction for him. But before he could hit her again, his arm was trapped and he found himself sitting on the ground.
André stood above the brute legs spread apart, a wicked knife in one hand, while he pulled Stormy against his side. “Make another move toward the lad and I’ll slice you to ribbons.” He backed up, amazed that a crowd had already formed to watch the spectacle.
“Let’s hurry. I have a hack standing by, and then we’ll have a serious discussion.”
Stormy could tell by the tightness around his mouth that he was none too pleased to see her. Still, it gave her a warm feeling to know he had come to her rescue, though she had no idea how he could have possibly known that she was in trouble.
Well, she didn’t have long to wait after he shoved her unceremoniously into the hack and slammed the door shut.
He regarded her through narrowed eyes, while chewing his lower lip. Finally, he leaned forward, resting an elbow on his knee, his chin on his fisted hand. “Stormy, what am I supposed to do with you?” He held up his hand, when she opened her mouth to protest. “I am not playing games. You see, it would be so much easier, if I knew you to be safe from Snowden’s clutches.
Your presence puts us both in more danger.
“Snowden is like a snake in the grass. You never know when he will strike or where. He knows it was me who rescued you from Greenbriar. No one else would know the secret passages. So he knows I care about you.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair. Admitting that STORMY HEIDE KATROS
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he cared for her was the last thing he wanted to do. Besides, it did not even come close to what he felt for her.
“If Snowden got his grubby paws on you, he would use it to his advantage to see us both punished. We both know that no one could stop him, not at this time anyway.” André heaved a pained sigh. “I guess I have no choice, but to make a detour and return you to Emerald Hills.”
He raised a warning finger. “You better be prepared that we will ride. The coach would be too slow and obvious, and it would be impossible to lay a false trail, if that proved necessary.”
Stormy listened with a sinking heart. Why couldn’t she just act like other ladies and know her place? She should have stayed aboard and allowed Captain Simon to take her back to Bristol. She pursed her lips, not looking at André, and realized that she wouldn’t have stayed aboard for all the money in the world. She might not have thought her move through, but she had known in her heart that she wasn’t going to let the man she loved ride out of her life
…possibly for the last time.
“I’m sorry, André. I don’t mean to be a bother. I was hoping that I could be of some help, if I came along.”
He quirked a dark brow in her direction, then leaned back against the worn squabs of the hack and blew out an uptight breath. “I am a dead man either way you look at it. If your father intercepts us, he’ll kill me, and if Snowden catches us, he will use you against me.” But deep in his heart he didn’t care for his life as long as he’d know that Stormy would be safe. And despite his respect for Captain Simon, he had not relished the idea of leaving Stormy aboard the Mystic without a chaperone.
Trevor’s reasoning behind the trip to Liverpool still eluded him. Without his interference he could be back at Greenbriar at this very moment. He had a good idea where to look for the original document Aunt Victoria had drawn up, but it would take some time alone in the house.
Of course, once he was inside, he could hide behind various walls. Still, it would be risky.
“What are you thinking about? I have never seen you look so serious.”
André forced a smile. “I was just thinking that you will regret your impulsiveness, once we are on the road.”
Stormy tossed her head. “I can ride with the best of them. Remember I almost bested you in our mock duel, which reminds me that you still owe me a rematch.”
André laughed outright. “You are incorrigible. There won’t be any rematch and we’ll just see how well you will hold up, once we ride.”
The hack stopped abruptly and André chanced a look out the grimy window. “We have arrived at the livery stable.” He hopped down and paid the driver, paying her no mind as to how she would get off.
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He had to give her credit. They’d been riding three hours without stopping, yet she had not once complained of saddle soreness or any other discomfort. Not that he had given her an opening. The fact that she had followed him, still miffed him, but in a far corner of his heart it also pleased him.
André was not familiar with the roads and darkness was fast encroaching. He intended to stop at the next inn or house and ask for a room. He could not chance to stay the whole night.
Until they reached terrain more familiar to him, he wanted to ride during daylight hours. He doubted that Snowden believed the ruse that he had sailed to the Americas, so in all probability he had men on the lookout. Every move he made involved his concern for Stormy’s safety.
Up ahead, lights winked against the falling dusk. It had to be an inn. He cut a glance at Stormy. Her lips showed white with fatigue. She kept her eyes to the road in front of her and she no longer sat her saddle as she had even half an hour earlier.
His heart twisted with shame and pity. He had been too hard on her. But dammit, the woman was so stubborn she brought out the worst in him.
“Let me ride ahead. If that is an inn up there, I’ll rent a room for the night. Otherwise, we’ll ask if we can use the stable to rest a while.”
Stormy shrugged. She hung on by sheer willpower, but she would rather bite her tongue off than give him the satisfaction of being able to say “I told you so.”
She arrived at the inn scant moments after André returned to the stable to unsaddle his horse. He didn’t comment, but lifted her down without a word.
She fair sagged to the floor, her legs wobbly. Worried, André grabbed her under the arms to steady her. Looking into her eyes, he muttered, “I can’t carry you unless I want to cause a riot in the common room. Do you want to rest a moment or do you think you can make it up the stairs unassisted.”
He noticed the change of color in her eyes, the contempt flashing in their depths. Good, his concern for her welfare had raised her dander.
Squaring her slim shoulders, she bit out, “Just show me the way. That’ll be the day that I would need your help.” Huffing with displeasure, she stalked ahead of him, then grumbling under her breath, she stepped reluctantly aside to let him lead the way.
André shielded her from prying eyes with his big body as he hustled her up the rickety flight of stairs. Holding a candlestick in one hand, he opened the door to a small room and shoved her unceremoniously inside. In two strides he was by the fireplace and held the taper to the kindling.
“It will take some time before the room warms up. Huddle under the covers until I get back. I need to rub down the horses and feed them.”
Before she could reply he was gone. The key grated in the lock and she heard his boots clatter down the stairs. Glad to be alone, she used the chamber pot and quickly washed her hands and face.
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The only light in the room was a sliver of moon peeking through threadbare curtains and the flames from the fire. Stormy shivered. Rubbing her arms, she sat on the edge of the bed and drew the feather tick about her shoulders in an attempt to get warm.
André found her that way half an hour later, fast asleep, a small pile of drooping humanity. He smiled. He’d hoped she would have recovered enough to come downstairs for a repast, but he realized she needed the sleep more.
He gently pulled off her boots. Scooping her into his arms, he laid her down and covered her with the feather bedding. She immediately curled on her side and buried her face in the thin pillow provided.
André tiptoed across the room and tipped a chair under the doorknob as a precautionary measure. Stoking the fire one last time, he removed his boots and slid under the cover with her.
She made a small noise of protest and then wriggled her rear into the curve of his lap.
André bit down on his lip to prevent a groan. At another time, in another place he would have had no compunction of arousing her passion, but he knew she was exhausted and lovemaking had to wait. Heat curled through him at that thought. He snuggled her a little closer and wrapped his arm possessively around her waist. This might be the last time he would have the opportunity to hold her without reservation.
He shook his head. No, it wouldn’t do to think negatively. He would have to find a way into Greenbriar. Once inside he could elude the sheriff for days on end. But even if he did not survive the confrontation with Snowden, he could die remembering those stolen hours aboard the Mystic.
He reveled in her warmth and the scent of her. God help him, but he could easily spend the rest of his nights like this. Resting his chin atop her head, he finally fell into a dreamless sleep.
* * * *
André jerked awake some hours later, unsure what had woken him up. He reached under the pillow and wrapped his fingers around the gun he had stowed there before going to bed. For several minutes he lay on his back, breathing slowly and listening. Whatever it was, it was gone.
He slipped from bed and fished his time piece from his pocket and took it over to the window so he could see the time. Four o’clock in the morning. Almost daybreak. Force of habit compelled him to wind the pocket watch, a keepsake from his late father. He quickly washed his face and pulled on his boots. Hoping to take the chill from the room, he stoked the remaining embers in the fireplace, but apart from eliciting a shower of sparks it did little else.
He cleared his throat in an attempt to rouse Stormy, but she slept blithely on. After several deliberate tries to wake her, he walked to the bed and gently shook her shoulder.
“Time to get up, sleepy head. We need to get on the road.”
Stormy cracked one eye open, turned away from the annoying hand that rested stubbornly on her shoulder. “It’s still dark,” she mumbled.
“I know, but I told you we needed to ride long, hard hours and you assured me you’d be up for it. Of course, I could leave you here and make sure they’ll find you a carriage to bring you back to Emerald Hills.” He knew that would raise her hackles, though no way in hell would he leave her behind.
“Oh, you insufferable boor.” Stormy threw back the covers and sat on the edge of the bed. “Just give me a moment to collect myself and I’ll be ready.”
“I’ll give you more than a moment. I’ll go down to the stables and get the horses ready.
I settled with the innkeeper last night, so we need not tarry on that account.”
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He was gone in a moment, leaving Stormy shivering in the morning chill. She quickly availed herself of the chamber pot once more, washed her hands and face, grumbling that the water was so cold.
Nothing much was said between them as they cantered down the deserted road, mist still shrouding the trees and shrubs, sending cascades of tiny droplets down on them, if they happened to brush against a branch.
Stormy huddled in her cloak and noted with some satisfaction that André wore his cape close to his body as well.
When the first rays of sun lightened their path, Stormy began to feel hunger pangs. She had not eaten since late yesterday, when André had handed her an apple and a chunk of hard cheese. She refused to mention any of that, lest he would smile in that superior male way of his and remind her that it had been her choice to come along.
But André was not oblivious to the hardship this ride presented to her. He reined in his horse the moment he spied a small stream through a break in the brush. “Let’s give the horses some time to graze and drink, while we have something to eat ourselves. I had the cook at the inn pack us some food.”