Margo Maguire (12 page)

Christina gasped. “No! I cannot afford to lose the only—”

“Lady Fairhaven, I intend to draw them off so that you can get away to safety.”

“But what if they don’t follow you? What if—”

“Sometimes, my lady, you have to choose between your money and your life.”

“But I—”

“Of course we’ll all do everything in our power to keep your treasure safe.”

Gavin observed a myriad of expressions crossing her face as she stood looking at him, but she turned suddenly and climbed into the carriage without saying another word.

He stayed close to her carriage as they continued on their journey south. He had not enjoyed those few moments the previous evening when Christina had been in danger. And he didn’t care to go through any such thing again.

He hoped to reach Mansfield by nightfall, but after consulting with Bob Palmer, realized it would be an awfully long stretch. A short ride in an enclosed carriage was challenging enough. He did not know if Christina and her maid could tolerate the extra hour or two it would take to make it all the way there.

They traveled all morning without stopping until a small village came into sight. Gavin detected no threats on the road, so he decided it would be safe for him to ride a short distance ahead of the carriage. In truth, it was better if he stayed as far from Christina as possible. The intimacy of their night together had given him cravings a man like him had no business entertaining.

He rode into the village and noted two small inns where they might take a few minutes’ respite. He chose the better-looking one and went inside to the taproom. After ordering a meal to be prepared for their party, he took a table in a corner with his back to the wall. It was an old habit that had served him well in the past, and after last night, he knew better than to relax his guard.

The incident at Palmer’s Inn could have gone badly. Fortunately, Crocker had kept his wits about him, and helped Gavin do what had to be done.

He scrubbed a hand across the lower half of his face. Those highwaymen would have had to kill him before he let them get to Christina. It was hard to believe he’d allowed her to become anything more than a complicated assignment. But over the past few days, she’d roused a deeply buried protective instinct. He did not quite like it.

It was one thing to take care of his sister. This was something altogether different.

Until now, he’d always been able to keep his emotions far removed from his missions, and it had worked well. He accomplished whatever he’d set out to do with a minimum of trouble, and without conscience. This task for Windermere had become far too personal.

There could be no more notice of Christina’s smiles, or her pretty curls, or her enticing figure in her unrelenting black. He could not dwell upon her luscious scent or those plush lips that had tasted so very—

Damnation
. He needed to regain some objectivity in order to get the job done in London, regardless of what he knew the outcome was likely to be, and somehow get her to back to her grandfather at Windermere Park in spite of it.

H
ancock and Trevor sat down at Gavin’s small table, leaving no room for Christina and Jenny to join them.

Which was just as well. Christina needed to stop thinking about the sculpted muscles of the man’s shoulders and arms, and the taut power of his hips; she had to divert herself from reliving the moment that he’d . . .

She felt her face heat at the thought of it—of Gavin joining his body to hers, of moving within her and building an incredible tumult in her body. She had not known such bliss was possible.

Christina had been raised a proper lady, but the rules were entirely different for widows. She would not allow herself to feel guilty for seeking out and enjoying the pleasures of a man who appealed to her.

Captain Briggs was just such a man, in spite of his heavy-handedness . . . And yet he was more than a bit intimidating.

The man in question rose from his table and stood talking for a moment with Hancock and Trevor. But when the other men went outside, Gavin stopped beside Christina. “We should go as soon as possible, Lady Fairhaven.”

So formal with her now.

She clasped her hands together in her lap, disturbed that she could not keep her thoughts from dwelling upon all that had transpired during the night with him.

All that she hoped to share again.

They resumed their journey and Christina could not help but feel the tension in every member of her party as they traveled southward. They were all on edge after last night’s encounter with the robbers, even lighthearted Jenny.

Christina kept the carriage’s curtains open in order to see what was happening outside, but she would have preferred to ride horseback. She was a good rider, and if highwaymen came after them, she knew she would be able to outrun them.

Riding horseback would also give her the opportunity to spend time with Gavin. But they had not brought another riding horse, so she contented herself with catching sight of her handsome lover as he rode alongside the carriage, keeping watch, protecting her . . . protecting all of them.

Christina finally turned her thoughts to practical matters. She didn’t know what she would do if her jewels were stolen, for then she would have nothing to put into the lectern at All Hallows Church. No way to find out where Lang was and what had happened to him.

She had to trust that Gavin would make sure the jewels did not fall into the hands of thieves. She had to believe he would know how to capture the blackmailer when he attempted to take the money at the church.

It was absolutely vital that she find out whatever the blackguard knew. Lang was the least predictable of her brothers, although his escapades had been far fewer since he’d gone into the navy. Their father had made his expectations clear—there was not to be any more trouble from Lang Jameson. And Lang had complied, at least, to Christina’s knowledge.

At the end of the day they arrived at a little town north of Mansfield. Christina was weary after her long day in the carriage, and found herself anxious to retreat into her room at the inn Gavin chose near the center of town.

She was not a very practiced flirt, and though she’d managed to entice him to her bed once, she did not know what to expect tonight. Would he come to her of his own volition or would she have to craft some excuse?

They came to a stop in a stable yard, and Christina heard the men talking with one another. She unlatched the door to listen, but Gavin made a sudden dismount and ran at a trot toward the blacksmith’s shop not far from the inn.

Trevor let down the carriage steps and Christina followed Gavin. He dashed into the smithy’s shop, and though Christina stayed back a short distance, she heard him shout at someone inside. “You there!”

She had not noticed the slapping noise until it stopped, but as she moved closer to the wide entryway, she saw a man with a whip standing in the center of the forge. He was a beefy fellow, his face and arms moist with sweat, his fists the size of hams.

A small boy cowered on the floor in the corner.

Christina winced at the sight of the child’s thin back, crisscrossed with red welts.

“What d’ye want,” growled the blacksmith at Gavin’s words.

“I want you to put down that whip.”

In spite of Gavin’s demand, the smithy crossed his arms over his massive chest, swaying slightly. He looked drunk. And meaner than a rabid dog. “Oh right. And who’ll it be who sees that I do?”

Christina had a very bad feeling about what was about to happen, especially when Gavin took a step toward the man who still held the evil-looking whip.

“Go along, boy,” Gavin said to the child, who appeared too frightened to move.

“Stay where ye are,” the blacksmith snarled at him.

As Gavin took another few steps forward, Christina’s worry turned to panic and she wondered what she could do to intercede. Then she remembered how calm Gavin had looked last night, just before crashing the heavy dining table into the robbers.

He looked the same now. Angry and fierce, but completely in control.

“You don’t want to cross me, man,” he said, his voice low and lethal. “Let the boy go.”

“
The hell I will
.”

Chapter 12

T
he blacksmith lunged toward Gavin, who feinted to the side, then grabbed the bigger man by the arm, twisting it behind him. Before the smithy could do anything at all, Gavin had him bent over his anvil, trapping his hands behind him. He quickly wrapped the big man’s wrists with the whip.

Christina rushed to the child and raised him from his trembling crouch, in spite of the blacksmith’s blustering demands to be let loose.

“What’s your name?” she asked the boy over the man’s drunken shouts.

The child, who couldn’t have been more than about five years old, was trembling violently, his tear-streaked face devoid of color, and absolutely pitiful. His white-blond hair was overlong and tangled, and his meager clothes were threadbare.

“Th-Theo,” he said between quiet sobs.

“Theo, where do you live?”

“Here.”

Christina looked around and saw no evidence of any living quarters. “Where?”

He pointed to a ladder that led to nowhere but a straw-strewn loft, but then shrank down when the blacksmith roared an obscenity at Gavin.

“You live up there?” she asked the boy.

Theo nodded.

Christina could not believe it. The place was not suitable even for an animal. “Does he whip you often?”

Theo slipped his thumb into his mouth.

“Where is your mother?”

“Dead, miss.” He managed to speak around his thumb.

“Is this your father?” She tipped her head in the blacksmith’s direction.

“My uncle.”

“You have no father?”

He shook his pitiful head. “He went to war.”

His simple statement tugged at her heart. Lord and Lady Sunderland had taken her in and loved her as one of their own from the day she’d arrived on their doorstep. This poor boy had not been so lucky.

But Christina could make a difference for him.

“Come with me.” She put out her hand, and Theo put his small, filthy one into it. Then she walked away, feeling exceedingly moved by Gavin’s compassion and his deft handling of the blacksmith.

She collected Jenny on her way to the nearby inn and sent Trevor to help Gavin while Hancock saw to the horses and carriage. And her jewels. Because no matter what else happened, she had to keep her valuables safe.

G
avin shouldn’t have interfered. He knew he’d only asked for trouble by stepping in to protect the boy, but he remembered only too well the thrashings he’d suffered at his own father’s hands. And nothing would make him forget the times he’d been unable to protect his sister from him.

But what in hell had he gotten himself into?

Now he felt responsible for the boy, and had to figure out what he was going to do with the bloody drunkard who’d beaten him. There was no gaol that would take the blacksmith, for it was not against the law for a father to beat his son. But Gavin would be damned if he’d let the lad within reach of the oversized sot who’d whipped him.

He was glad he’d been able to subdue the bastard so quickly and Christina had not had to witness any more violence. Although the smithy deserved nothing less.

But Christina had been undaunted, her actions surprising him. She’d gotten the boy to safety without hesitation.

“Need some help, Captain?” Trevor asked.

Gavin pulled the smithy upright and turned him. The man’s eyes were bloodshot, but he looked as though he would kill someone with his bare hands if given the opportunity. He hadn’t stopped grousing about being accosted in his own shop, but Gavin ignored it.

“What’s the boy to you?” Gavin demanded of him, keeping the whip wrapped tightly around the man’s wrists. He had no interest in getting bashed with one of the blacksmith’s heavy iron tools.

The man spat on the ground in front of him. “Ain’t none o’ yer concern.”

“I’m making it my concern.” Even though it was against his better judgment. “He’s young for an apprentice. Your son?”

The smithy made a low growl. “ ’E’s a bloody bastard, is what.”

“Yours?”

“ ’Ell no.”

“Come on,” Gavin said as he shoved the smithy forward.

“Where we goin’?”

“To whatever hovel you crawled out of this morning.”

“W
hat will you do with him?” Jenny whispered as she and Christina looked down at the little boy who’d fallen asleep under a blanket in Jenny’s room at the inn.

“He can’t go back to the monster that beat him,” Christina said, determined to do what she could to help the boy.

There was no reason she could not take him to London with her. Sunderland House was large and well equipped to deal with children—after all, her parents had raised her and their three sons there. And Mrs. Wilder, the housekeeper, would welcome having a child in the house.

Theo reminded Christina of Lang. Not that they looked at all alike, but Lang was always the one in some sort of trouble. She wanted to gather the boy into her arms and protect him as she hoped to protect Lang.

But this complicated matters immeasurably. She needed Gavin to get her to London and deal with the blackmailer, and not be rescuing little country boys from their—

No. She could not fault Gavin for helping Theo. Any man who possessed an ounce of decency would have done the same.

“Did you ever see such a man?”

Christina rubbed her arms as a sudden chill came over her. “No. He was horrible.”

“I meant Captain Briggs,” Jenny said with a sigh. “He has such a masterful way. I was so afraid when he took himself up against that nasty old smithy.”

Christina kept her eyes down, trained on Theo. Jenny knew her very well and Christina had worried that she might divulge some little clue about her liaison with Gavin. But she would not dispute that Gavin had disabled the blacksmith with amazing competence—which should not have surprised anyone, not after the way he’d handled the intruders at the inn the night before. “Oh. Er . . . yes . . . But all is well now, is it not?”

“I wonder what the captain will do with that nasty old baggage. I hope he doesn’t think he can come in here and take the boy.”

“I’m sure Captain Briggs will make it clear that he’s not to come anywhere near,” Christina said. “We should wake him and see to the cuts on his back, and then . . .”

“Then . . . ?”

“He will be under my protection. I’ll take him to Sunderland House,” she said firmly. The boy was an orphan, left alone, just as Christina had been. She did not care what anyone thought of it, she would not leave him to the mercy—or lack thereof—of his uncle.

They roused the boy enough to bathe him and explain that he did not have to go back to the forge. Then they tucked him into a small cot the innkeeper had brought into Jenny’s room.

“He’s exhausted,” the maid said.

And so beaten down. He had not even questioned where he was or what would happen to him next. “You would be, too, if you had to live in a rough loft with only a coating of straw to keep you warm at night.” Christina shook her head. “He’s so thin.”

Jenny stepped back from the sleeping boy. “I’ll wash his clothes so he’ll have something to wear when he wakes.”

“They’re hardly more than rags. Maybe we can find something to buy for him. Surely there is a mother nearby who would part with some clothes for a price.”

“Oh, no doubt,” Jenny said. “I’ll talk to the chambermaids. Maybe they know of someone.”

Christina left that task to Jenny and went outside to the front drive to see if she could find out what was going on in the blacksmith’s shop. She felt a shiver of appreciation for what Gavin had done even as she wondered why he’d done it.

She could not think of any other man who would have interfered with the blacksmith in the situation they’d just encountered. Even her father, Lord Sunderland, was loath to meddle in anyone else’s affairs, though he might have in this instance.

The blacksmith was clearly a violent, cruel man, and Christina might have taken matters into her own hands if Gavin had not done something. Even now, she felt outrage burning in her throat when she pictured little Theo cowering in the corner of the filthy forge.

Several men had gathered at the open door of the smithy. Christina felt more than a little intimidated as she approached, but she remembered her mother’s words.
Attitude is everything. Show them who you are.

Raising her chin as her mother would have done, Christina pushed past the men and saw that the burly blacksmith sat on the floor with his hands still bound behind him. Trevor stood guarding him, while a man of some consequence stood aside, speaking with Gavin.

When Gavin saw her, he gave her a bow. “Lady Fairhaven, may I introduce Magistrate Thorpe, who was called to see what we strangers have done with Mr. Berry’s nephew. Mr. Thorpe, Viscountess Fairhaven.”

The magistrate’s eyes widened when he heard her title, quite obviously unaccustomed to dealings with nobility. Christina took that as a signal to pretend to be her mother.

“If you refer to the boy, Theo, he is with my maid at the inn,” Christina said imperiously. “And there he will remain.”

Gavin cast a glance at the magistrate, as though waiting for him to protest.

“My lady,” he said with an obsequious bow. “I’m sure we can come to some arrangement.”

“Arrangement?” she asked.

Thorpe cast a glance in the smithy’s direction. The man was muttering drunkenly.

“Samuel Berry has never had any use for the bastard. His ma died giving him life, and his da went and got himself killed in France.”

Christina could almost feel Gavin stiffen, even though he was not standing that close to her. She merely sensed the subtle change in his demeanor.

“I will take him,” Gavin said. “To my sister.”

Christina shot him a look of surprise. She had not known anything about a sister, nor had she ever thought Gavin would make such an extraordinary offer to take the boy himself. Which reminded her that she knew practically nothing about him at all.

“There will need to be some . . . remuneration, of course.”

Gavin appeared nonplussed for a moment, but then nodded. “I’ll take care of it before we leave.”

“Very good, Captain Briggs,” said the magistrate. “I’ll talk to Mr. Berry when he’s in a more reasonable frame of mind.”

C
hristina had covered his flank quite capably during the little skirmish with Berry and the magistrate. She’d stepped right in to rescue the boy, and later had known exactly how to manage the magistrate. She’d taken on the haughty expression and bearing of any noblewoman he’d ever met.

He’d almost laughed at the difference from her usual demeanor. But he’d been dead serious about never returning the boy to the contemptible blacksmith. He would kill the man first.

Gavin was sure his sister would not object to taking the boy and keeping him with her in London until he had secured their manor house. In any event, he had planned to give Eleanor what money he had, and it would be sufficient for the care of the boy as well as for Eleanor and her little daughter.

After he collected his reward from Windermere, he would take the boy to the manor in Hampshire. Then he would figure out what to do with him.

“You might want to consider locking Mr. Berry inside somewhere secure until he sobers up,” Gavin said to the magistrate.

Thorpe gave a quick nod and gestured for two of the townsmen to come and assist. “We’ve got a strong room where we can keep him. When are you leaving?”

“Soon after first light,” Gavin said.

“Then Mr. Berry will remain in custody until noon.”

Gavin thanked the man. Satisfied that he’d done all he could to assure the safety of the boy, he left the forge with Christina, and walked to the inn with her.

“I will leave some money with the magistrate,” she said. “Then the boy’s uncle will have no—”

“No need,” he replied, bristling. He was no pauper, and could deal with the situation he caused. “I have funds. And the boy is my responsibility. I’m the one who interfered.”

She said nothing more and they went into the inn, where the proprietor met them. He took them up to their rooms, one across from the other, and Gavin wondered if he’d be able to resist joining Christina when darkness fell. Or if she’d want him.

He’d tried not to think about her during the day’s ride, or dwell on the possibility of repeating the pleasures of the night before. But his efforts had failed miserably. Christina had been wildly receptive to every kiss, every caress, and he’d been thoroughly seduced by her. It was only the possible dangers they faced on the road that had kept him from being completely aroused all day.

“Supper will be served in the common room in half an hour, my lady,” said the innkeeper. “Unless you’d like your meal brought to the sitting room up here.”

“The sitting room will suit,” she said. “And you may send up Captain Briggs’s meal as well. We have matters to discuss.”

The innkeeper bowed slightly before leaving the upper hallway.

“Matters?” he asked, gratified that she apparently wanted exactly the same thing as he.

Her blush charmed him completely. “Yes. What we’re going to do with Theo.”

“Theo . . .”

“The boy you rescued,” she said, opening the door to her room. “You are to be commended for stepping in as you did.”

Gavin followed her inside. “There are some who would not agree.”

“No one has the right to brutalize a poor innocent the way that man did.”

“Outrage becomes you, my lady.” He reached behind her head and touched one of the incredibly silky curls at her nape.

Her body drifted toward his with an undeniable affinity, and Gavin could not resist pulling her to him. He touched his lips to hers in a feather-light kiss, teasing, sensing her growing arousal as well as his own.

He reached behind him and turned the key in the lock, then devoured her mouth. “I want you now.”