Authors: Leigh Greenwood
The innkeeper never saw who hit him; he was spun around and a fist smashed into his face with such force he fell to the floor. The other men disappeared into the taproom, and Kate was left alone to face the full blast of Brett’s fury.
“Only a simpleton would come to a place like this with a purse full of money. You could have been murdered.” Brett was very angry and his voice was raised perilously close to a shout, but Kate thought she could hear a trace of anxiety in his anger.
“I can take care of myself,” Kate flashed, but she couldn’t keep the relief from her voice. “At least I knew what
his
intentions were from the beginning.”
“I may have made love to you without your invitation, but I wouldn’t hit you over the head for a few pieces of gold or leave your body in a ditch. Besides, you cant deny you responded to me,” he countered, momentarily forgetting her attempt to escape.
Kate turned crimson at the memory of her body’s betrayal, but she was determined Brett would not get the better of her this time; she ignored his remark, preferring to cross swords with him on more firm ground. “I came prepared,” she said, opening her purse. “I took your pistol.” She revealed Brett’s small pearl-handled pistol. “It’s loaded, too.”
Brett broke into such an infectious laugh that Kate’s anger evaporated almost at once. “For a girl who’s been virtually locked away in a castle all her life, you’ve certainly picked up some unexpected quirks,” Brett said, recovering some of his gravity. “Brave but foolish—or are you determined to rid the world of all its thieves and blackguards?” Kate blanched at the reminder of the highwayman she had killed, but the worst of Brett’s wrath was gone, and he spoke in a much kinder voice.
“I know I didn’t treat you very well last night, but there’s no need for you to take this kind of risk to get away from me. Give me your ticket. I’m going to see you safely to London myself.” He tore up the ticket and scattered the pieces over the innkeeper. “Now let’s go back. Mathilda’s worried sick about you.”
“He still has the money I gave him for the ticket,” Kate told Brett as she knelt and began to ransack the innkeeper’s pockets.
“My dear girl,” Brett demurred, “certainly you can stand the loss of a few pounds.”
“I borrowed this money. No,” Kate corrected herself, “I
stole
it from you, and I’m not leaving until I get it back. At least I shall be spared the additional mortification of having to ask my uncle to repay you.” Kate turned the innkeeper’s pockets out, spilling all kinds of oddments onto the floor, but she couldn’t find her two pounds six. “Would you turn him over for me?”
“Are you so desperate for a few coins?”
“Not desperate, determined. I refuse to be beholden to you for a single shilling,” Kate declared pugnaciously. With one effortless thrust of his boot, Brett turned the innkeeper over on his back. Kate found her money in the inside pocket and carefully counted out the exact amount. “Now we can go,” she said, rising to her feet. She started to pick up her valise but stopped as a mischievous smile played across her lips. Drawing the great hood back so he could feel the full force of her magnificent eyes, Kate favored Brett with a brilliant smile. “Will you help me with my valise this time, or shall I be forced to walk through the streets carrying it myself?” She peeped guilelessly up at him from under fluttering eyelashes.
“Neither,” Brett answered, his sense of humor warring with his sense of pride. “I’ll have Michael send the boot boy back for it.”
“No you won’t,” Kate snapped, her eyes now flashing brightly. “Everything I own of any value is in that valise. If the innkeeper is only half the rogue I think he is, there won’t be anything left for the boy to bring back,
including
the valise. I’m taking it with me even if I have to drag it through the streets every step of the way.” She snatched Up the valise and stalked toward the door.
“Give me that damned bag,” Brett growled, half angry and half appreciative of the way she’d trapped him. “I’m tempted to throw you
and
this benighted valise into the first river I come it.” He snatched up the valise from where Kate had set it down, but Kate only favored him with a seraphic smile and preceded him out of the inn. “And when I do, I’m going to make sure you’re securely bound to a sack full of stones,” Brett announced to Kate’s retreating back, a slow grin of appreciation spreading across his face. But they had not gone very far when Brett stopped a boy and paid him to carry the valise the rest of the way. Kate was piqued, but wisely refused to comment.
Mathilda’s anxiety was too great to allow her to wait inside the inn. As soon as she caught sight of the two of them coming up the lane, she surged forward, rejoicing and scolding, before Kate was within the sound of her voice. “The Lord be praised! I was so worried I didn’t know what to do,” she wheezed as she trotted toward them. “I just knew you were up to something terrible when you kept on about that nasty stage. It worried me so much I went back to the room to try and talk you into staying here. When I found you had gone, I nearly suffered a palsy stroke. It was all I could do to keep from letting out a screech.”
“What she
did,”
Brett interrupted, grinning at the woman, “was to fall on my neck the minute I stepped inside the door wailing that you’d run off and were certain to be found in a ditch with your head broken.” Brett caught Mathilda in his powerful arms and held her helpless.
“Don’t you dare mishandle me in a public lane, you wicked boy,” she chuckled. “My reputation will be in shreds.”
“You don’t have a reputation to shred. Everyone knows you’re a merciless tyrant who keeps her servants quaking with fear and her long-suffering husband under a cat’s paw.”
“Now you leave off your teasing, Mr. Westbrook,” Mathilda said as she tried to right her apron and settle her cap on her head once more. “I’m sure I’m just as caring of my man as the next.” She self-consciously picked some lint off her dress. “And if I do give him a hint every now and then of how to go on, I’m sure it’s only in the way of being a dutiful wife. As for those maids,” she said, recovering energetically, “if I don’t keep after them day and night, they’ll He abed till breakfast and never get the rooms straightened up before lunch.”
Brett’s eyes danced with merriment, and Kate thought how incredibly handsome he was when he was relaxed and happy.
I wish he would look at me like that
was the unbidden thought that flashed through her mind. Memories of the comforting strength of his arms caused a faint blush to warm her cheeks. She pulled herself up short recollecting he was a vile seducer and how she had hoped she would never have to see him again, but it was hard to remember when he smiled like that.
They had almost reached the door of the inn when a familiar voice hailed them from the lane. A racing curricle drew up abruptly, the horses practically coming to a stop on top of Kate, and she recognized young Peter Feathers.
“I’ve seen children handle a team better,” Brett thundered, going to the heads of the plunging horses.
“Don’t you try to drive that thing into my yard,” Mathilda barked, no more tolerant of ineptitude than Brett. “I’ll not have my gate knocked down.”
Feathers’s attempt to defend himself was ignored, and Brett handed the horses over to the ulsters while Mathilda pushed him toward the door.
“Never mind my driving,” he said, giving up. “I came to warn you that Martin and the sheriff are coming after you. He means to have you arrested.”
“What does he hope to gain by that?” Brett asked as the women stared at Feathers in unbelieving surprise. “How did you find out?”
“Overheard him last night. Should have known something was wrong at dinner, but after that brandy I had a devil of a head. Made all kinds of threats against you, but he was just too cheerful.”
“Martin is always threatening to get even with somebody,” Kate added.
“Went into the garden after dinner. Heard him talking in the library but didn’t pay any attention until I heard Brett’s name. Had to push through some monstrous big shrubs to get near a window. Your brother ought to trim those bushes, Miss Vareyan,” Feathers said, momentarily losing the thread of his story. “Full of thorns.”
“Will you get on with it,” Brett exploded.
“Yes, well, I heard Martin say he wanted Brett thrown into jail. I was so shocked I peeped in, but the man he was talking to had his back to me. Martin said some pretty nasty things about the both of you.”
“There’s nothing unusual in that,” Kate volunteered.
“I couldn’t see the man’s face when he finally turned around, those damned thorn bushes you know, but you can imagine my surprise when he spoke up and I recognized Frank Boyngton’s voice.”
“He’s a fair man as far as his understanding goes,” said Brett. “Surely he wasn’t taken in by Martin’s ravings.”
“Not at first, but when the housekeeper told her tale, he had no choice but to agree to come after you.”
“But Isabella doesn’t know anything,” Kate stated, incensed. “She wasn’t even up when I left.”
“I don’t know about that, but she said Brett had been paying you extravagant compliments and showering you with attention all week. Proper turned your head with his flattery. Talked you into going for an early-morning ride, and then abducted you. Martin said you were meaning to try for France before he could catch up with you.”
Kate was too astounded to speak, but Mathilda did not suffer under the same handicap. “Well, I never! He ought to be clapped in irons for making up a story like that.”
“Brett is the one likely to be clapped in irons unless he gets moving,” Feathers observed.
“I wont let it happen,” Kate stated indignantly. “I’ll tell the sheriff how Martin drove me from the house.”
“Unfortunately, your word won’t carry any weight against Martin’s. You’re underage and he’s your guardian,” said Brett. “Just finding you here will be enough to convict me.”
Kate turned white. “What can we do?”
“Michael and I will be glad to help if we can,” Mathilda offered.
“Thank you, but I’d rather get through this without involving anyone else.” He turned to Kate. “Are you willing to go to France with me?”
Kate struggled to calm her loudly beating heart. “We’re not going to London?”
“We cant now. You won’t be safe in England.”
Kate’s head reeled. There was too much to think about and no time to do it. She knew she should consider her future, where she could find employment, how she would live, whether she could survive without the support of her family, but all she could think of was the comfort of Brett’s presence, all she could see was the irresistible appeal of his smile, and all she could feel was the touch of his lips on her skin. Faced with the decision to go with him regardless of the consequences or most likely never see him again, Kate did not hesitate.
“Yes,” she heard herself say, and somehow both of them knew she had made a fateful decision. After this, everything would either be easier or impossible.
“You’ve got to be ready to leave within half an hour.”
“I’m already packed,” Kate said with a ghost of a smile. “I can leave right now.”
“Don’t worry,” Brett reassured her with warmth in his voice. “I have no intention of letting Martin get his hands on you. Mathilda, tell Michael to see that my coach is ready immediately and that the rest of Kate’s luggage is loaded. Now both of you go quickly.”
“When did you leave?” he asked, turning back to Feathers. “Does anybody know where you’ve gone?”
“I told Martin I wanted to set out early for Newmarket.”
“Then that’s where you’re going. Get back in your curricle and don’t even change horses until you’re at least ten miles from here. I don’t want you involved in this, either.”
Feathers tried to protest, but Brett was adament. “You can get something to eat when you get back on the road. Make a big thing of changing horses, or anything else you wish, so the innkeeper will remember you.” Brett called for the curricle and harried the ulsters so effectively Feathers was on his way in record time.
By then Brett’s coach was ready. Mathilda hurried out with some bread and cheese, cold ham, and apples wrapped in a cloth. “You’ll be getting hungry before you reach Dover,” she said, carefully packing the food in the coach. “You can get something to drink when you change horses, but you won’t be having time to wait for food.” She moved without her usual cheerful animation. She looked tired and her body sagged as though it were weighted down with worry. “You won’t let them hurt Miss Vareyan, will you?” she asked in an anxious voice. “The poor thing told me something about that brother of hers. You can’t let him take her back to that castle. It’s no more than a prison.” Her distress was evident.
“I’ll take very good care of her,” Brett said, giving the older woman a pat on the arm. “I had hoped to take her to my aunt, but that’s impossible now. Ill have to find some way of taking care of her in Paris until I get back from Africa.”
“Mr. Westbrook, you wouldn’t do anything against that poor child, would you?” Mathilda burst out, unable to contain her fear any longer but reluctant for once to speak plainly. “She’s a good girl.”
Brett didn’t appreciate Mathilda’s reading of his character, but neither did he pretend to misunderstand her. “You can put that worry out of your mind. She deserves only the best, and I’m going to see that she gets it.” He spoke with such unexpected sincerity that Mathilda searched his face looking for a key to his thoughts. She could never say what she found there, but it did serve to ease her mind.