Elizabeth Thornton (11 page)

Hugh rose. “Good God!” he said. “Little Hetty is all grown up. I wouldn’t have recognized her if she hadn’t been with her mother. I’ll be right back.”

Abbie wondered if her own expression was as wistful as the young Beauty’s. She hoped not. Age and experience should have taught her something. But she understood Hetty’s confusion only too well. Youth, with all its insecurities, could be a horrible burden, and she remembered retreating into her own little world of books and poetry. But she hadn’t been a Beauty; she’d been an awkward, lanky girl. In time, Hetty would gain confidence because she would discover that people, and men in particular, were attracted to beauty.

She watched Hugh press a kiss to the young woman’s hand, then she tore her eyes away. Now that she was seeing Hugh as a man and not as a friend, she’d become absurdly conscious of everything about him—his looks, his manners, the little gestures that were unique to Hugh, how he swept that dark lock of hair back from his forehead when his mind was elsewhere, and how his smile became crooked when he was unsure of himself.

But what did he see when he looked at her?

She wasn’t that awkward, lanky girl of eighteen any more. She’d learned to make the best of herself. Maybe Hugh thought she was beautiful. Maybe he admired her intelligence and her conversation.

And maybe she should remember why she was here.

She picked up her knife and fork, but after one bite of beefsteak, she put them down again. Without Hugh to take her mind off her troubles, she was back to thinking about George. She wondered what he would be eating for
dinner tonight, and where they were holding him. It seemed criminal to her that she should be living in the lap of luxury in one of the most expensive hotels in the whole of England, while George was held captive somewhere. Was he warm? Was he cold? Did he have enough to eat? Was he frightened?

A wave of anger swept over her. She wasn’t a violent person, but if she could lay her hands on the man who was responsible for all this, she would gladly strangle him.

The waiter arrived to clear their table, and a few moments later, Hugh returned. Abbie rose, and they made for the lobby.

Hugh said, “That was Mrs. Langley and her daughter, Henrietta. You’ve heard me mention Colonel Langley? He was my commanding officer.”

It was all coming back to her. Hugh had talked about Colonel Langley before. He had shared Hugh’s interest in Roman antiquities, and though they’d been fighting a war in Spain, they managed to see the Roman ruins. Despite the difference in their ages, they’d become friends.

Mrs. Langley was an army wife, which meant that where Colonel Langley went, she followed. Hugh respected her enormously because although she’d been born to a life of luxury, she’d given it all up to marry the man she loved, and had endured hardships without complaint just to be with her husband.

Abbie said, “You never mentioned that the Langleys had a daughter.”

“No? Well, Hetty was a child when I knew her. She was all arms and legs when they sent her home to relatives in England to finish her education. It almost broke their hearts to part with her. They’d given up hope of having
children when Hetty came along. And you can imagine how they spoiled her.”

“She’s grown into a lovely young woman.”

“And all set to make her come-out,” replied Hugh.

“Are they going to London, then?”

“For the season. Colonel Langley is there now. He works at the foreign office. Mrs. Langley is staying with relatives in Marlborough while their house in Chelsea is being done up for Henrietta’s come-out ball.”

“I’ll bet her father is screaming blue murder at the cost of everything.”

“How do you know?”

“Men always do.”

Abbie didn’t hear Hugh’s response. She was scanning the faces of the people they passed in the lobby and on their way up the stairs, but her fears were groundless. Nobody spared her a second glance. When they came to the narrow staircase that led to the attics, Abbie halted, and offered Hugh her hand.

“This is good-bye, then, Hugh. I won’t see you in the morning because I shall be leaving early. It was very kind of you to come after me, and I mean that sincerely. Give my love to Olivia, and tell all my friends I shall write to them soon.”

He took the hand she offered and stared down at it. “Abbie,” he said softly, “don’t you trust me?”

“You know I do.”

“Then tell me what’s troubling you. Tell me why you’re running away. Whatever it is, I’ll protect you. I won’t let anything hurt you. You know that, don’t you?”

Her heart expanded then seemed to contract. She looked at him, at the lock of dark hair that fell across his brow, at the amber eyes that were studying her intently, at
that firmly molded mouth, and a yearning uncurled in the pit of her stomach and spread out in waves. She was worn out with worry about George and Hugh seemed like a rock that nothing could shatter. She wanted that strength for herself.

Their eyes met and held, hers wide and fragile, his heavy-lidded. She was dimly aware of other things: lights flickering in wall sconces, a door slamming along the corridor, the muted sound of voices, the beat of her own heart, the rise and fall of his chest.

She couldn’t seem to focus on any one thing. Her head was buzzing. Her responses were slow. Why was he looking at her like that? “I think I’ve had too much wine,” she said.

His hand tightened around hers. “Abbie, tell me!”

She had to fight to hold back the words. But she wasn’t made of stone. She couldn’t resist the appeal in his eyes or the strength he was offering. “Hold me, Hugh,” she whispered. “Just hold me.”

A door opened and someone stepped into the corridor. “We must talk,” said Hugh, “but not here. Come with me. We’ll talk in my chamber.”

She felt bereft when he stepped away from her, but it was only for a moment. He took her elbow in a loose clasp and led her along the narrow carpeted hall. When they came to his room, he unlocked the door, took one of the candles from the hall table and ushered her inside. Abbie took a few steps toward the fire that burned low in the grate while Hugh lit several candles around the room. And in those few moments, she began to realize she’d made a terrible mistake. Hugh wanted to question her, and that was the one thing she could not allow.

He stood in front of her, his eyes searching her face.

His hands grasped her shoulders. “Now tell me everything,” he said quietly.

She kept her eyes steady on his. “There’s nothing to tell. Honestly, Hugh.”

“Abbie—”

With some vague idea of throwing him off balance then making her escape, she stopped his words with a kiss. But when his mouth sank into hers, she was the one who lost her balance.

The flavor of wine was on his tongue and she parted her lips to absorb his taste. Pleasure began a slow beat deep in her body. Her skin was hot; her bones were turning to water. It was heady; it was intoxicating. It was too much; it wasn’t nearly enough.

Hugh gave her what she wanted, needed. His mouth was ravenous on hers; his arms were wrapped around her like bonds of steel. When she was held like this, she felt that nothing could hurt her ever again.

When he suddenly broke the kiss, she murmured a protest. He gave her a shake to get her attention. “Abbie, you haven’t told me anything yet.”

“I don’t want to talk.”

Hugh resisted when she tried to draw his head down. “I won’t—”

“Kiss me, Hugh.”

“If we don’t talk now, we’ll talk later.”

“Later,” she said. “We’ll talk later. Now, kiss me.”

He kissed her swiftly. “Are you sure, Abbie? Are you sure this is what you want?”

The question seemed irrelevant. She had never been more sure of anything in her life. One night was all she asked. Tomorrow seemed a long way off.

“I’m sure.”

He laughed softly and pulled her to the bed. His hands cupped her face and he brushed his lips lightly over hers.

“Easy,” he said when she tried to deepen the kiss. There was a smile in his voice. “This is one sphere where I won’t let you hurry me.”

He shrugged out of his coat, then his waistcoat, his eyes on Abbie all the while. “You’ve turned my life upside down. You know that, don’t you?”

Awareness was coming back to her, and she shook her head.

“Why do you think I stayed on in Bath?” He reached out and brushed his thumb along her cheek.

His touch made her tremble. “Because …” She cleared the huskiness from her throat. “The Roman ruins?”

“Hardly. You were what kept me there, Abbie.”

She was afraid to believe what her heart was telling her, but every cell in her body was humming in anticipation of his next words. “What are you trying to say, Hugh?”

He undid the buttons on his shirt, dragged it over his head then tossed it on a chair.
Roman Centurion
, she thought as he came to stand over her.

He knelt on the bed and tipped up her chin. “Isn’t it obvious? One night isn’t enough for me. I want us to be together. There are so many places I want to show you—Italy, Greece, France.” His voice thickened and turned husky. “I’ve wanted you for a long, long time and now it seems that you want me too.” He flashed her a crooked smile. “Undress for me, Abbie?”

Though her fingers trembled as she began on the buttons of her bodice, she obeyed him all the same. It didn’t seem possible that this magnificent male animal could want to spend the rest of his life with someone like her. In
the past, he’d made it perfectly clear that he wasn’t the marrying kind of man, just as she’d made it perfectly clear that she wasn’t …

Then she knew, she
knew
that marriage was the farthest thing from his mind.

She blurted out the words. “Are you asking me to be your
mistress
?”

For a fraction of a second he seemed puzzled, but he quickly recovered himself. “I wouldn’t put it like that. A mistress is a man’s … plaything. I want us to be equals. I want us to be lovers as well as friends.” He gave her a searching look. “Isn’t that what you want too?”

Abbie felt as though someone had just punched her in the stomach. Tears of pain welled in her eyes, and all her pent up longing and softer feelings were swallowed up in a flood of humiliation.

“Abbie.”

When he reached for her, she slapped him hard on the shoulder and slid from the bed.

Hugh raked a hand through his hair. “Abbie, what’s got into you? What did I say?”

She was so furious, the words tumbled from her lips in a torrent. “You said you brought me here to talk. Well, Mr. Templar, I have only one thing to say to you.” She paused to draw in a breath. “You are an out-and-out”—she discarded the word
cad
as too tepid—“an out-and-out bastard.”

Hugh rose from the bed, his look of bewilderment quickly changing to one of annoyance. “I don’t understand. You said you were ready for this. I’m offering you more than one night of pleasure. So why does that make me a villain?”

She was at the cheval mirror, arranging her gown. She hadn’t the patience to argue the logic of the situation with
him. All she knew was that she felt horribly, horribly cheapened.

Having tidied herself, she turned and confronted him. “If you don’t know why that makes you a villain, I can’t explain it.” And that was the truth.

He put his hands on his hips and his eyes narrowed on her face. “Marriage is your price. Is that it?”

Her chin lifted. “For a clever man, you can be incredibly stupid.” And that was the truth as well.

She slipped by him, quickly opened the door, and sailed out.

“Abbie,” he roared. “You come back here and give me a straight answer.”

He would have gone after her if he had not been half-naked. He reached for his shirt and pulled it over his head, but when he dashed into the corridor, there was no sign of Abbie.

O
utside the Castle, it was as black as pitch; snow was in the air and nothing was stirring. Inside, a few night lamps were burning, and Abbie could hear faint rumblings coming from the nether regions of the great house. In another hour or two, the inn would burst into life as early bird travelers descended the stairs calling for their carriages before they sat down to a hearty breakfast in the dining hall.

Just thinking about food made Abbie realize how hungry she was. She’d hardly eaten a thing at dinner, and it would be hours before they stopped to water the horses, hours before she could ease her own hunger pangs. It couldn’t be helped. After last night, the last thing she wanted was to come face-to-face with Hugh Templar. The very idea of seeing him again made her cringe inside. She was ashamed of the way she’d behaved, ashamed of giving him the wrong impression.
Undress for me
, he’d said, and like a trollop, she’d obeyed. But she’d been swept up in the emotion of the moment. Her actions had sprung from her heart. His were premeditated. He’d admitted that long before she’d entered his room,
he’d known he wanted her. And his base offer had cheapened something precious that she would have given him without counting the cost.

She hadn’t been thinking of marriage. But Hugh had, as he’d proved when he’d asked her if marriage was her price. The man had the soul of a bookkeeper.

She wanted to hit him. She wanted to smack that crooked smile clear off his face. She wanted to tear that dark hair out by the roots so that an unsuspecting female would never again be seduced by the lock of hair he was forever brushing from his broad brow. But most of all, she never wanted to see him again. That’s why she was creeping down the stairs at this ungodly hour to make her escape.

Everything was set. After she made her decision last night, she’d sent a message to her postboys through one of the maids, letting them know that she wanted to be on the road before five o’clock. Her box and portmanteau had been sent down. All that she had to do before slipping away was make arrangements for her maid with the clerk on duty.

And pay her bill.

Then, when she’d left Marlborough, she’d head for London—no stopping in Newbury or Reading and she didn’t care what “they” made of it. She’d been terrorized to the breaking point, first by “them,” then by Hugh Templar, and she couldn’t take any more. She wanted her family; she wanted to see their dear faces. Just to know that she wasn’t alone in her worry for her brother would make all the difference in the world. Then, together, they would find a way to save George.