Lady Elinor's Wicked Adventures (17 page)

“But not with their brother.”

“Norrie, there wasn't anything I could have done for them.” He was pleading. “Not then.”

She thought about it, then nodded. “Not then. But now?”

He couldn't quite meet her eye and spoke quickly. “You see, Julia is seventeen. She ought to come out next season, only she thinks our mother will make it a disaster so I promised I would help her.”

Norrie softened right in front of his eyes. “Well, of course you must help her.” She paused to think. “Absolutely. Your mother will have no notion of how to bring out a daughter. The places she goes are hardly suitable for a young girl, and she probably isn't invited to the places that young girls should go.”

Of course Norrie would understand that right away. But did she see…? “The thing is, once we're married, you'll probably have to help too.”

“Indeed.” She beamed at him, looking quite happy at the prospect. “We'll have to take a house for the season that's big enough for her to stay with us. That will be much better for her than staying with your mother. She isn't likely to kick up a fuss, is she? Your mother, I mean.” He started to say no, but Norrie wasn't actually listening to him. She was making plans. “My parents will let us use Penworth House for a ball, I'm sure. And I can take your sister shopping and see to it that she has the right wardrobe. It will be great fun. What is Julia like?”

This time she did wait for an answer, only he didn't really know what to say. “I haven't actually seen much of her recently, but she seemed a bit reserved when I went to visit.”

Norrie had stopped planning and was looking at him. “She was just a baby when you first came to stay with us, wasn't she.” He nodded. “And you've never been back much since then.” He nodded again. “And the other sister? How old is she?”

“Olivia. She's twelve.”

“She wasn't even born yet when we first met you.”

He nodded. “That's right.” He didn't admit that she'd been almost two when he first saw her. Once he'd come to know the Tremaines, he'd done his best to forget he had any other family.

“Oh, Harry, you've got two sisters and you don't even know them. That's so sad.”

“You won't have to deal with them. I promise. They aren't your responsibility.”

“Don't be ridiculous. You should have been taking care of them for years. All right, you couldn't have done much for them while you were in school. But you never even spent time with them—that was very bad of you. However, from now on they will be
our
responsibility, and I can promise you that I am better prepared to deal with two almost-grown girls than you are.” She threw her arms around him. “What a lovely way to start out.”

Sheer astonishment froze him for a minute. She wasn't going to turn away from him. She wasn't even going to turn away from his sisters. He pulled her across his lap and held her tightly, knocking her bonnet askew so he could bury his face in her hair. She fit so perfectly into his arms, as if this was where she belonged. This
was
where she belonged. He would hold her, protect her, treasure her always. Nothing would ever harm her, not while he was here.

A lengthy kiss and much murmuring of endearments were eventually interrupted by a snort from the plow horse. Harry looked up to see the horse looking longingly at a patch of grass and he sighed regretfully. “I suppose we should get on our way.”

“Mmmm. I suppose. Where are we going?”

“A nice shady, secluded spot I found one day.” He smiled at her.

She smiled back. “That sounds lovely.”

As he gathered up the reins once more, she settled next to him, pressing close to his side. “Ouch!” She pulled back. “What on earth is in your pocket?”

He glanced down and grinned. “My revolver, remember?”

“Good to know you'll be able to keep us safe if we're attacked by any large stones.”

Harry spread out a blanket on a ledge that was cushioned with the soft grass of spring. Patches of trees provided privacy on either side, and below them a hillside planted with vines led down to the plain, where a patchwork of fields stretched before them, pale green where the grain was growing, brilliant yellow where some plant she didn't know was blooming.

She took Harry's hand—it was trembling slightly, she was pleased to notice—and allowed him to seat her. She closed her parasol and set it aside, then reached up to unpin her hat and set that aside as well. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back to enjoy the warmth of the sun. It was only then that she opened her eyes and looked at Harry.

He was kneeling beside her on the blanket, his hands clenched on his thighs, watching her. His eyes were dark.

She smiled at him and held out her hand. Would he understand?

He did.

Almost before she knew it, she was on her back and he was pressing down on her. One hand was fisted in her hair, holding her head tilted for him as his mouth began its exploration. Soft kisses, his lips barely brushing her skin, fluttered over her face, making her yearn for more. Her hands reached up to clutch at his shoulders until finally his mouth covered hers and she moaned with joy. Yes, this was what she wanted, this was what she had been longing for. But there was more, much more. She clutched his shoulders to make certain he could not leave before she discovered what that
more
was.

* * *

He could feel her beneath him, soft and yielding, as he tasted her, his tongue exploring the softness of her mouth, her tongue tentatively darting forth to tangle with his. Just as he caressed her, she was reaching up to caress his face, his shoulders, his chest. He could feel her pleasure in the little shivers that ran through her body. While one hand cradled her head, the other began to undo those tiny buttons on her bodice. He had not planned to do so, but once he began it seemed the only thing he could do.

Her hands suddenly ceased their caresses and she pulled back from his kiss. “What are you doing?”

“Undressing you.”
Don't ask m
e to stop.

She stared at him, motionless. Then she smiled, a purely female smile. An eternally female smile, full of welcome and promise. Eve must have smiled so at Adam, Helen of Troy at Paris, Guinevere at Lancelot. His heart leaped within him, and he was filled with the eternally joyful male reaction to that smile.

“Oh you wicked, wicked creature.”

His mouth came down upon hers again and she welcomed him in a joyously passionate kiss while his fingers dealt with the remaining buttons. He pushed her bodice out of the way and her breasts, her beautiful rounded breasts, spilled out of her corset. He stared at them for a moment and reached a hand to cup one. Here were the breasts he had dreamed of, coveted, for so long. They were perfect. He groaned and then bent down to worship them with his mouth while her fingers tightened in his hair and she made little sounds of pleasure.

It took a moment for him to realize that those sounds had ended abruptly in a gasp that sounded strangely like fear and she was no longer arching beneath him. Before he could raise his head to ask what was the matter, he heard a harsh metallic click as the hammer of a gun was drawn back. He would have recognized the sound even without the sensation of a cold metal barrel pressed behind his ear. But the gun barrel was unmistakably there.

“I do regret interrupting you at such a time, but I fear I require your attention.” Landi's voice, less amused than vicious, came from somewhere behind him. “Now you will stand up, slowly and carefully.”

There was nothing else he could do at the moment. He pushed himself up to his knees, pulled the bodice of Norrie's dress together, and reached over for his coat to cover her. Her eyes were wide with shock and he tried to reassure her with a smile. It probably wasn't successful, but he stood up, keeping himself in front of her, and turned around. He could screen her at least.

Landi had moved back to stand about twenty feet away. He was flanked by a grotesque pair of villains, one a scrawny creature whose leering grin showed half his teeth missing, the other a bearded barrel of a man. Both were dressed in filthy rags and carried ancient fowling pieces. In contrast, Landi stood posed gracefully, a sneer on his face. His loose shirt made him look like a pantomime Pirate King, but he held his modern rifle as if he knew what to do with it.

Harry heard Norrie get to her feet and moved slightly to keep her sheltered behind him. “What are you playing at, Landi?”

“Playing,
milord
?” The title sounded contemptuous. “No, it is no game, I fear. Or rather, you should fear. You have interfered in my business, and that is not permitted.”

“If you for one moment think that these melodramatic threats will impress Lady Elinor…”

Landi laughed. “No, no. It is too late for that, is it not? That was simply a chance that demanded to be taken. I was speaking of my—what shall we call it?—my antiquities business.”

“So you're the thief. I'm not entirely surprised. It's the sort of shabby business someone would expect of a parasite like you.”

The laughter disappeared from Landi's face. “It is so easy for you to be superior, is it not, Englishman? You with your arrogant assumptions that your wishes are all that matter, that everyone will bow to you. Unlike you, I had no wealthy father to provide my fortune, and my cousin shows no inclination to share his, so I need to make my own. I will not allow you or anyone else to disrupt my plans.”

“What makes you think I have done so?”

“Do you think I am stupid? Yesterday the gold, the statues, the urns were where I left them. Today they are gone. You were the only one wandering about yesterday, you and the lady. I am afraid I cannot let you enrich yourself at my expense. Where are they?”

Harry could feel Norrie moving restlessly behind him and held a hand back to urge her to stay there. He could protect her with his body—for the moment, anyway. “If I give you the information, will you depart and let us be? Will you accept our word that we will tell no one?”

Landi narrowed his eyes and smiled. “Why not? I was not planning to remain here any longer. I will be safely away before you can walk back to the castello.”

Harry tried to look stupid enough to believe that.
He'll kill us both the minute we tell him what he wants. Norrie, remember the revolver. Give me the
revolver.

Landi continued to smile. “I doubt any of this will come as a great surprise to my cousin. He knows I have no more fondness for him than he has for me. He likes to order me about because he knows I resent it. How fortunate for me that he was away when you made your discovery.”

“What makes you think he doesn't know by now?”

The smile vanished from Landi's face. “Explain yourself.”

“Did you think that we would keep it a secret?”

“Why not? Then you could take it for yourselves. No, you think yourself too honest, too honorable for that.” The words were pronounced as insults. “But keep silent you did. No one spoke of it last night, and everyone would have talked of nothing else if they knew. And you left the villa this morning before the prince had returned.”

Harry shrugged. “We had no way of knowing who the thieves were, so naturally we did not shout out the news. But I told Lord Rycote and Lord Penworth, and they will have told the prince immediately upon his return.”

Landi spat out a curse and looked off into the distance. He swung back and tightened his grip on his rifle. “Then you had best pray that he has not yet removed our goods.”

“And if he has, what will you do? Kill us? Don't you think our dead bodies might raise some questions? You cannot expect our families to let our deaths go unavenged. You do not know the Tremaines if you think you can escape discovery.”

Landi shook his head in pity. “Alas, I fear your deaths would be blamed on brigands. They infest these parts, you know.” He waved at his companions. “And I myself do not plan to linger here.” He smiled at Harry's start. “No, I have not betrayed myself to them. They speak no English, so you can expect no help from them. On the contrary, I believe they are hoping you will be stubborn and require…persuasion to give us the information we want. Do you really want to watch my friends here abuse Lady Elinor, watch her in agony when you know that a word from you could end her suffering?”

Bile rose to choke him. He knew it was stupid but his body coiled to spring. Before he could move, Norrie burst out and took her stand in front of him. She flung the coat back at him, and he gave a grunt of pain as something struck him in the groin. It took him a moment to realize that it was the revolver. The blessed girl had remembered the revolver!

She stood there, arms akimbo, and—good God, her bodice was still hanging open! And those pigs were staring at her, drooling. Words were spilling out of her in a torrent of fury. “You bastard. You worthless slime. You filthy pig. You steal from your cousin, who supports you and your mother, and you threaten us? How dare you!”

Harry took a deep breath and wrapped his fingers around the revolver under the coat. As soon as he was sure he had it untangled and firmly in hand, he whispered to Norrie, “Dive left on three and run like hell.”

The attention of the two brigands was focused entirely on her bosom. Landi sucked in a breath and looked at her with an appreciative smile. “Ah,
bella
, you should have married me. It would have spared us all this unpleasantness.”

“One.”

Unseen behind Norrie, Harry removed the revolver from his coat.

“Two.”

She gave Landi a contemptuous look. “Marry a creature like you? I can imagine nothing more disgusting than the touch of a cowardly cur.”

Harry cocked the revolver as she spoke.

“Three!”

Norrie dove left, and Harry swung the Colt up. His first shot hit Landi, and before the two brigands had recovered from the sudden turn of events, his second shot took down the barrel-shaped lout on the right. He swung to the left and pulled up just in time.

Instead of running as he told her to, Norrie had gone straight for the scrawny fellow and taken him down with a classic Rugby tackle. His ancient fowling piece flew off to the side, going off with an explosion that damaged some grass but nothing else. Norrie had him down and was kneeling on his chest, bashing his face with a rock. A quick glance showed that Landi had vanished from sight, so Harry went to her aid, not that it seemed to be needed.

He stuck the revolver into his waistband, flinching slightly at the heat of the barrel, and put his hands on her waist to lift her up. The brigand moaned, half dazed, and tried to rise. Harry knocked him back down with a kick. “It's all right, Norrie,” Harry murmured. “It's over.”

The rock was still clutched in her raised hand. She looked over her shoulder at Harry, then at the space where Landi had stood, and then back at the brigand cowering at her feet. Tears filled her eyes. “He leered at me,” she said.

She started to shake, and he turned her to him and wrapped his arms around her, rocking her gently. “It's all right, my love. It's all right.”

Eventually she stopped shaking and straightened up. “They were going to kill us, weren't they? Whether we told them or not.”

Harry hesitated but nodded.

“He was looking forward to it. And besides, he leered at me.”

“And so deserved anything you might give him.” Harry kept his face solemn. “I was impressed by your tackle.”

She shrugged and lowered the hand still holding the rock. “You and Pip taught me years ago.” Her voice was not quite steady yet.

Harry stared at her in a mixture of awe and amusement. “Who would have thought football would be so useful?”

The brigand was starting to make noises.

Harry looked down at him, then kicked him over onto his stomach and put a foot on his back. “I think you may need to sacrifice a petticoat. I don't think any of those rags he is wearing are sturdy enough to truss him up.”

“Gladly.” She sounded calm until she looked down and realized that her bodice was still hanging open. She hastily put it to rights before she lifted her skirt, then a petticoat, then another.

Harry stared. “How many of those do you wear?”

“Only four today, since we were going on a picnic, but the nicest ones are on top and I don't want to sacrifice them. I don't think he deserves anything better than the bottom one.”

“I'm sure you are right.” Harry's mouth felt dry as he stared at the legs she uncovered as the bottom petticoat fell to the ground and she stepped out of it. His private parts were reacting in a thoroughly inappropriate manner. This was not the time for such thoughts, but he wasn't thinking. His body was behaving quite independently of his mind. God, she had incredible legs. He closed his eyes and thought about cold baths and congealed porridge. With a shake of his head, he took the petticoat she handed him and tore it into strips.

As he tied the captive's hands behind him, the fellow was foolish enough to begin a string of filthy curses aimed at foreign hellcats. Harry sighed, pulled out his revolver again, and held it under the fellow's chin. Silence followed immediately.

“The lady speaks excellent Italian.” Harry spoke in Italian. “However, I do not believe she understands precisely what you said. That is just as well, is it not?”

The brigand jerked his head in agreement.

“Yes. And while we are at it, I think that when we deliver you to the authorities, you might wish to tell them that it was I who administered those bruises on your face.”

The brigand started to object.

“No, I am not seeking the glory—there is no glory in defeating a cockroach. However, you do not really want to have to tell people that you were taken down and beaten by a little slip of a girl, do you?” A guttural snarl escaped as Harry prodded him with the revolver once more. “Do you? I can just imagine what the other prisoners will think of you.”