Margo Maguire (19 page)

Chapter 19

G
avin tipped down his hat and turned right around before Chetwood had a chance to look up and see him. He slipped away to a spot behind the adjoining staircase and looked carefully at the men, studying their faces for future reference.

He could not be sure, but it looked as though Chetwood’s companions were his own cronies and not just random travelers he’d encountered at the inn. Black Sheep, indeed.

All of the men were well dressed, and most were clean shaven. One man had a wide black mustache and a large, dark blemish high on his cheek, and another didn’t look old enough to shave. A third was a redhead with the pointed features of a ferret, and the others had their backs to him, so Gavin could not see their faces. One of these two was fair-haired, the other mostly bald.

Gavin’s position provided cover for the perfect shot. If he’d had his Baker rifle, he could have picked off the baron and slipped away with no one the wiser.

But the war was over, and he was done with killing, even if the target was one of the most immoral, despicable churls in the kingdom. He made a quick exit from the building, going through a side entrance, then mounting his horse and galloping toward the road.

He did not think it was any accident that Chetwood was there. They were about fifty miles from London, and the Black Sheep Inn was a likely place for Christina to stop.

If the baron had stopped there for the purpose of encountering her, he would have to have known she was headed to London, and not to Windermere and her grandfather.

Gavin wondered what Chetwood knew and how he’d found out about their journey south. He searched his memory for some clue, some incident that would have revealed Christina’s movements, but could think of none.

But it was no coincidence. Gavin’s instincts were quite clear on that. While he’d been tracking Christina’s sister, Chetwood must have hired men to follow up on what they’d learned of Christina. The baron might even be aware of the change in Windermere’s will, but some nefarious motive drove him to pursue Christina in spite of it.

Gavin could have stayed and confronted Chetwood at the inn, but that would only confirm to the baron that he was close. And Gavin would not kill another man unless his own life—or that of someone he cared for—was at risk.

No, the best course was to direct Christina’s party to the next town, and find lodgings far off the main road, whatever they might be.

C
hristina knew something was wrong. She heard the shouts and leaned forward to look out the window, just as the carriage increased its speed. Theo awoke from a long nap and pulled his thumb from his mouth when the carriage jerked them nearly off their seats. Christina saw the alarm in his eyes and hugged him close.

“Don’t worry. Mr. Hancock is a very good driver.”

“I wonder what could be the matter,” Jenny said.

Christina gave a slight shake of her head. She did not know, but she trusted Gavin to keep them safe, and she didn’t want to alarm Theo.

Gavin had said he was riding on ahead to secure their rooms, but clearly, something had changed his mind. And if Gavin thought they needed to travel faster and farther, then they would do exactly that, and hold on to their seats as they rode.

Christina had been lulled almost to sleep just a few moments before, but now, all her senses were alert. She felt energized, if a bit worried. She didn’t know if she’d ever ridden in a carriage behind galloping horses, and it was not an experience she hoped to repeat. She held on to Theo with one hand and the carriage strap with the other as they bounced along the road.

Hancock kept the carriage upright and on track for the next few minutes as they continued past the town where they had agreed they would stop.

Eventually, the carriage slowed to a more reasonable speed, and so did Christina’s heart. Hancock turned the carriage in a westerly direction into a street in a busy little town. She did not see Gavin, and assumed he must be riding ahead.

She could not imagine what had happened to spur the kind of race they’d just run. It did not seem that anyone had been pursuing them, or surely there would have been a confrontation by now.

It was something else.

When they were deep within the town, the carriage stopped and Gavin came to the door. He opened it, but stopped her from stepping out of the carriage. “We’re going to take rooms here, but we cannot use our names—at least, not mine or Lady Fairhaven’s.”

“What’s happened?” Christina asked.

“I’ll tell you once we’re inside. For now, you will be . . . Mrs. Crocker. I’m your husband, and this is our son, Theo.”

“My word,” Jenny said, under her breath, and Christina’s heart quaked in her chest. She could not imagine what . . .

Baron Chetwood?
Highwaymen had not chased them, so what else could it be?

A chill ran through her.

“I assure you the ruse is entirely necessary to keep Lady Fairhaven safe, Jenny.” Gavin turned to Theo, and put his hand on the boy’s head. “Theo, do you understand? You are to call Lady Fairhaven Mama. Just for tonight.”

He nodded, and Christina’s heart clenched in her chest. It was much too easy to imagine that Theo was Gavin’s son . . . and hers. She took a deep breath of shock and stepped away from the carriage.

“We’re agreed, then,” she heard Gavin say. “I’ll go get rooms for us. Wait a few minutes, then come in with Trevor and Hancock.”

How absurd. She would have suitors aplenty after her year of mourning was done. Earls and viscounts had courted her before, and maybe even a duke’s heir would come around once it was known that she was Windermere’s granddaughter. Now that she had some experience—both within her marriage and without—there were certain things she required of a husband.

Fidelity was one of them. Respect was another.

Gavin went into the inn, and Jenny came over and spoke quietly to her. “Do you think it’s entirely proper, my lady? Pretending to be Captain Briggs’s wife?”

Christina managed to remain composed. Of course it was not. Nor was it proper to spend every night in his arms. But she’d learned quite painfully that the appearance of propriety was not always accurate. At least she was not hurting anyone by her liaison with Gavin.

“There is some danger to me, Jenny,” she said without even blushing. “You know about the jewels . . . The situation is too complicated to explain now, but I’m sure Captain Briggs only intends to keep me safe.”

Jenny’s eyes widened, but she only said, “Well, if you’re sure.”

Christina was only sure that she wanted this last night with Gavin, because once they reached London, she didn’t know what would happen.

They started for the inn, with Theo’s hand in hers.

G
avin took rooms for all of them at the King’s Head Inn. It was not the highest-quality lodging house Gavin had ever seen, but its location was exactly right. It was far from the North Road, and nestled a good distance off the main street of town.

He put Jenny and Theo in the room next to Christina’s, with Hancock and Trevor flanking the other side. They’d understood the need for Gavin to stay in Christina’s room at Palmer’s Inn, and when he explained the dangers now, he knew they would appreciate the same kind of necessity.

Gavin did not think Chetwood had seen him, but he could not be sure. He believed the subterfuge of traveling as Mr. and Mrs. Crocker with their son and servants would go a long way if the baron managed to track them this far into Milton Keynes. Gavin doubted he would, though.

Chetwood had seemed entirely relaxed, as though he was certain everything would play out exactly as he had planned. Gavin just wished he knew what the bastard intended for Christina.

He ordered a meal to be brought up to Christina’s room, where she would dine with her maid and Theo. He and the men would spend the evening in the taproom, keeping watch, in case Chetwood or any of his minions came along. He explained to Trevor and Hancock as much of the situation as they needed to know, describing Chetwood so they would recognize him. Then he established a schedule for them to rotate watches throughout the night.

He shared a quick meal with the two men, then said he would take the first watch. He figured if Chetwood were to come around to the King’s Head, it was likely to be earlier rather than later. First, he went up to check on the women and Theo, and found that all was well.

It looked as though they had already supped, and now they were engaged in a rhyming game. Gavin watched for a moment, and saw that the game had drawn Theo out, and he was laughing at Christina’s silly verses.

“Go on with your turn, Jenny, while I talk with Cap— er,
Mr. Crocker
.”

Her smile belied the potential danger they faced. If the baron knew Christina was en route to London, he guessed the man would show up on her doorstep at some point.

He would deal with that after they reached London, when Christina was safely entrenched at her home.

“What happened?” Christina asked him quietly. “Why did we come here instead—”

“I saw Chetwood,” Gavin replied. “He was sitting in the taproom of the Black Sheep Inn, the best-looking inn near the road at Newport. It was the most likely place for us to stop for the night.” But only if Chetwood knew where they’d stayed the previous night.

She went pale, and Gavin suppressed the urge to take her in his arms. But it would not do for Jenny and Theo to see him embrace her. He satisfied his longing to touch her by taking hold of the door frame beside her head.

“Trevor, Hancock, and I are going to take turns keeping watch downstairs,” he said. “I don’t expect Chetwood to find us, but if he comes around, we’ll be forewarned. I’m taking the first watch. I’ll come up later.”

Christina nodded, and as he turned to exit the room, she took hold of his arm. “Please be careful.”

“Aye.” Her kiss would take away the sour taste of seeing Chetwood at the Black Sheep, but that would have to wait. Perhaps later, when he returned to the room, he would be inconsiderate enough to wake her.

C
hristina found it surprisingly difficult to fall asleep. She was tired from the long day of uncomfortable confinement in the carriage, and the threat from Baron Chetwood was only vaguely real to her.

It was thoughts of Lang that kept her awake. No matter what they learned from the blackmailer, it was not going to be good. She desperately hoped Lang was alive, but that in itself was going to pose serious problems for him, and for their family.

Of course, her parents and brothers would want to know Lang had not been killed. But there would be scandal. A court-martial. She swallowed thickly. A hanging?

Perhaps Felton’s fiancée would be compelled to cry off.

She moved restlessly in the bed, turning this way and that, missing Gavin. She’d grown accustomed to losing herself and drifting to sleep in his arms, his body curled around hers after a delicious bout of lovemaking.

It was yet one more worrisome thing.

Theirs was not exactly a conventional relationship in which expectations were clearly delineated. They were not betrothed, they were not even friends. Gavin’s assistance with her blackmailer was solely for the purpose of ensuring that she would go back to Windermere with him.

She didn’t even know if she would go with him when they were finished in London.

It was unethical, and unfair, she knew. But she had no interest in taking a long trip north to the Lake District to meet the grandfather who had abandoned her and her sister when she needed him most. She owed nothing to the old duke.

But she did owe Gavin. He’d come this far with her, and he would not renege on his promise to help her. Nor would she go back on her word to return to Windermere with him.

Fatigue finally overtook her, and she drifted off. She might have slept until morning, but for the lovely sensation of Gavin’s hard chest pressing against her back sometime during the night. She sighed and turned to face him, sliding up to meet his kiss.

“No sign of the baron?” Christina asked, drawing back to take a breath.

“No. Come here.”

She skimmed her hands up his chest, delighting in the crisp hair and the solid feel of him.

His hands roved over her, their light touch arousing. Sensations flowed through her, at once satisfying and frustrating. She wanted more, she wanted to give him pleasure.

Feeling pleasantly drowsy, she pushed him back to the mattress and moved on top of him, pressing kisses to his neck, then his chest. “You must be exhausted.”

“Aye.”

She slid her hand downward, finding him hard and ready. Encircling his manhood with her fingers, she stroked him as she moved ever lower, feathering kisses to his chest, her breasts brushing against his abdomen, then his thighs. She looked into his startled eyes as she touched her lips to the tip of his shaft, then swirled her tongue around it.

He closed his eyes and groaned, and she relished her sensual power, pulling him fully into her mouth.

It was incredibly arousing. Christina licked and sucked, driving Gavin relentlessly, as he’d done to her many times before.

She heard his deep groan and felt his hands cupping her head, exhorting her to continue.

She was close to her own climax, but she wanted to take him to the brink and back first. When she finally took mercy upon him, she shifted, moving up to straddle his hips. In one quick plunge, he joined their bodies together. Christina dictated the rhythm, so ready, and yet so keen to make it last. She leaned forward, her breasts swaying over him, and he caught one pebbled nipple in his mouth.

That sharp sensation pushed her over the edge, and she climaxed wildly, pleasure bursting through her body like the surf in a wild storm. Her heart roared and every muscle flexed.

And then a new, intense fire rushed through her as he drove into her again and again.

He altered their positions and she was suddenly under him. He thrust into her with an intensity that belied his fatigue, and his power became her own. His breaths were harsh pants in his throat, and he lowered his body fully against hers when he came. A savage, exquisitely visceral sensation sped through her as Gavin growled and thrust one last time.