Darrington 01 - Marriage Minded Lord (20 page)

Clarice struggled to open her eyes. Darkness, thick and cloying, met her gaze. Some sort of scratchy fabric rasped over her face and body. A rag had been stuffed into her mouth and no amount of spitting would dislodge it. She turned her head. A sharp tug of pain streaked over her scalp at the back of her head. No wonder the rag wouldn’t move. It was probably secured by a tie and her hair had gotten caught in the knot. The pungent aroma of mold and damp assailed her, but she couldn’t take a deep breath without a sharp pain flaring through her ribs. Somewhere in the recesses of her prison, the faint scratch of rodent claws rasped into her consciousness.
Where am I?
Panic climbed her spine. Anxiety chewed her stomach. She tried to move her limbs, check them for injuries, but both her wrists were bound behind her back and her ankles were tied as well. How?

As her pulse pounded through her veins, she attempted to remember what had happened. Once she’d run from Felix, Lady Drummond had waylaid her at the Amherst
’s front door, pleading a headache. She’d requested Clarice return home with her at once, which Clarice had agreed to with alacrity. The fear of running into Felix far outweighed the thought that Lady Drummond’s disposition was too nice, too accommodating, especially after the scene at dinner. If she’d come across Felix, she’d want to throw herself into his arms and plead for his protection, but vanity kept her from finding him. Hadn’t she always prided herself on looking after herself?

Once
she and Olivia had returned to the Drummond residence, Clarice had retired, and still out-of-sorts from the events of the evening, she’d laid upon her bed, not bothering to undress. She must have fallen asleep, but an out-of-place sound in her room brought her awake with a start. Shortly afterward, a man had yanked her from her bed, pressed a damp, foul-smelling cloth to her nose and mouth. She didn’t remember anything after that.

Mon dieu.
Olivia had followed through on her threat.

Flutters filled her belly as the panic increased. Kidnapped. She’d been kidnapped and could be God only knew where right now. Would anyone notice her absence? The bitter taste of bile rose in her throat. Of course they wouldn’t. Lady Drummond would merely tell her staff that Clarice had moved on to another position. No one would have cause to question
her. Lord, what would she tell Felix? Something horrible no doubt to throw him off suspicion.

Was she even now on a ship headed to God knew what fate? Tears stung her eyes, but she couldn’t feel the pitching she imagined would be present in a ship’s hold. Clarice thrashed about, trying in vain to loosen her bonds.
Settle, Clarice. You can figure this out.
Only with a level head could she hope to escape.

She breathed through her mouth
, even though the rag remained in place, in an effort not to smell the air. Still unable to see, she took stock of her bearings, finally realizing the pain in her ribs was from the huge coil of rope she’d been thrown onto. Squirming until she’d maneuvered onto her back, she extended her legs, moving them to the right and left. Once she hit a wall, she squirmed on the rope coil, seeking a better position, and then she banged her feet against the wall. Any human contact was better than being left alone in the dark and wondering about her fate. She’d worry about surviving once her present situation righted itself.

Minutes slid by and still she pounded on the wall until her feet ached and her heels grew numb. She collapsed onto her makeshift bed. Her wrists throbbed. Tears leaked from her eyes, wetting her cheeks. What would happen? Would Felix
try to look for her? Would he question whatever tale Olivia happened to tell him to explain her absence? She sobbed, not out of fear, but from regret. Never would she see him again, hear his voice, feel the heat of his body against hers.

The doorknob rattled.

Clarice froze, her limbs tensed. She waited, her heartbeat racing. The door opened with such force it slammed against the wall.

“Clarice?”

She sagged into the ropes.
Felix!
He’d come after her. She tried to say his name, say anything, but the gag prevented her from uttering anything except a string of guttural sounds. She wriggled her body to let him know where she was, and then he was beside her, pulling away the covering, and murmuring her name over and over. She stared into the gloom and discerned his outline from the clinging shadows of the room.
He’s here.
Sobs choked her as he untied the cloth then pulled the rag from her mouth.

“I’m so glad it’s you,” she said in a rush as soon as she could. Her mouth felt dry and tasted of soiled laundry. “Oh Felix.”
There was so much she longed to say, but the rush of relief at being rescued left her tongue-tied.

“Hush, dearest. Don’t try to talk.” His voice sounded raw and tired, but he made quick work of her bonds
. As soon as her limbs were free, he stood and pulled her to her feet then into his arms. “Everything will be all right now. I’ll never let anyone hurt you again.”

She clung to him, twined her arms around his neck and held him close. Having him here, in her
embrace and hearing the comforting resonance of his voice calmed her. Needing a closer connection, Clarice pulled his head down and kissed him. As if she’d never see him again, she put every ounce of the fear, gratitude and happiness she felt into that one meeting of mouths. By the time she wrenched away, need had stolen her breath and longing pulsed through her body in heated waves.

His eyes glittered in the shadows. “As much as I would love to continue this interlude, we must go. I have a carriage waiting, and there is every chance more men will come to avenge the two I put down in order to rescue you.”

She nodded. For the first time she noticed the blood at his temple and jaw. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s nothing.” He waved away her concern.

“Felix, it was Lady Drummond who—”

“I know.” He put an arm about her waist and ushered her from the dingy room. “Quickly. We can talk more in the carriage.”

As they walked along the dock, they passed a man lying motionless. She frowned, then noticed Felix’s modified gait. He now walked with a slight limp. Looking into his face, she saw a bruise purpling on his jaw and a trickle of blood over one eyebrow. “You fought them and are injured.”

“I’ll live.
None of the wounds are deep nor will they require medical attention.” He tugged her at a quick march past shadow-filled doorways. When they arrived at a town coach, he tersely greeted the driver, yanked open the door and handed her inside, following seconds later. Once the coach lurched into motion, Felix hauled her into his lap with his arms like strong bands of steel around her. He rained kisses all over her face, jaw and neck. A growl rumbled from deep in his chest and he situated her so that she straddled him and he began the kissing circuit all over again. “I’m so glad I found you in time.”

She forgot about the rope burns on her wrists and ankles, forgot the fear of Lady Drummond’s retaliation, forgot everything except the visceral firmness of his body beneath hers or the heat that warmed her fingers as she smoothed her hands over his chest. “Lady Drummond will not be pleased to find I haven’t been sold after all.
She’ll come after me, and she’ll know you had a hand in it.”

“You needn’t worry. I’ll secure you a small house here in London, or if you’d prefer, a modest cottage in the country
until such time as we can—”

“I beg your pardon?” The warm haze surrounding her faded as his words sank in. “Despite what happened this evening, it doesn’t give you leave to pledge ownership of me.” Did he assume his rescue meant she’d reverse her earlier decisions and become his mistress?

“Damn it, Clarice, that’s not what I meant.” He tightened his hands on her shoulders.

“Perhaps you should explain.” She attempted to wriggle off his lap
, but he slid his hands to her hips and held her in place.

“I just want you to be happy, and safe. I cannot do the lat
ter unless I’m assured of where you’ll be, but I can certainly contribute to your well-being now.”

“I am happy…” Her words trailed away as tendrils of old familiar fear wound up her spine.

“I meant with me. If I secure you a small residence, I alone will know where you’ll be and can keep you safe from Lady Drummond. Why do you resist my overtures at every turn or think the worst of me? Do you wish to spend the remainder of your life miserable and fighting with every person who comes into your life?”

“I don’t.”

“You do.” He brushed his lips against hers. “Me, Lady Drummond, Cook, the maids, anyone in an authority position… eventually you’ll do the same with my mother.”

She looked sharply into his face. What did that mean? “I fight because I care. I’ve tried to defend my roots and reputation. It’s the only thing I have of value, and that’s precious little besides.” Was that even true though? Did she argue at every turn because her life lacked depth?

“Ah.” He drew abstract designs at her waist with his thumbs. “But what do you really want out of life, Clarice? You’ve met your father, now what is the dream you have hidden in your heart?”

Her breathing grew shallow. She couldn’t think with him so near and conversing so intimately. A shrug was her only answer.

“You are a coward, sweeting.” A grin flashed in the dark confines. “I’ll tell you what’s on my heart, which I should have done days ago. I care about you too much to see the hurt and ache in your eyes every damn time I look at you.”

“I don’t have—” Her protest died when he placed a finger on her lips.

“Don’t argue, huh?” His tired chuckle filled the cozy confines of the coach. “I want you by my side every day. I want to wake up beside you every morning and kiss your lips every night before retiring. I want to see your belly swollen with children—our children—and I want to grow old knowing I won the hand of the most beautiful woman in all London.”

“Oh Felix.” She shook her head. Tears prickled the backs of her eyelids. “I cannot let you do that. You’ll destroy your reputation among the Peerage.”

“It’s already suffered a few dents. One more won’t harm me.”

“No. I’d hate myself if I gave in and let myself fall victim to your pretty words, for that’s all they are. We both know that.” Knots tightened in her belly, fueled by her old familiar fear of love over lust.

“And I’d hate myself if I didn’t press on.”

She tried a difference tactic. “I’m a nobody with a clouded pedigree.”

“It makes no difference about your bloodlines, but to me, you are everything and have my recommendation. If you wish to pursue your French connections, I will do everything in my power to help you claim them.”

Clarice issued an unladylike snort. Why was he being so impossible? “I’m more of a pastry chef and peasant cook than a lady.”

He slid his hands up, cupping her breasts. “All to the good since I enjoy eating. I know from experience you are quite capable in the kitchen.”

She trembled from the intimate contact, but the heat he imparted wove around her, relaxing and calm. “You know any union between us is impossible—a legal union—and I refuse any other resolution.”

“I don’t know.” Felix brushed his thumbs over her nipples, and when they hardened and she gasped, he slid his hands upward to rest on her shoulders. “What are you afraid of? Fear has lurked in your eyes ever since that first night in the kitchens. It’s made me curious. You run from me each time you feel our kisses affect you. Is it me who terrifies you,
mon petit
?”

His use of
the French endearment, as well as his fleeting erotic caress made her shiver with need. His solicitous attitude and stubborn willingness to be with her broke through every defense she’d built. A tear fell to her cheek. There wasn’t anything else to lose. “My whole life I watched my mother move from man to man like a bee to flowers. She chased the feeling being with a different protector brought her, but I think they were merely ghosts. I believe she was once in love and that man broke her heart. She never could regain what she felt for him.”

“She didn’t confirm your suspicions?” He rubbed her collarbones with his thumbs. Each pass sent
tingles of delight down her spine.

“No, she never spoke of him though I suspect he might have been the Duke of Amherst.”

“Then you were conceived out of love—at least on her part.”

“I wish I could believe that
, for I’ve come to see my mother for what she really was—a flirt who cared more for the material trappings each man could give her.” Clarice peered into Felix’s dear face, caught that special grin he always had just for her, and she sighed. “I don’t want that sort of empty life she had, Felix.”

He slid a palm down her arm. “What is it you do want, Clarice?”

The way her name sounded in his whispered voice was as joyful as an angel’s song. “I don’t wish to be a slave to fleeting pleasure, bereft when it’s gone or when the gentleman grows tired.” She worried her bottom lip then forced away a smile. “I want love and all the raw feelings it might bring, despite that my mother cautioned against it. I don’t want temporal. I…” She wiped at the moisture on her cheeks. “I want forever.”

“Then you and I are in agreement on something.
Thank God for small miracles. I want that as well.” This time he ran the pad of a thumb along her bottom lip. “With you, in case you wondered.”