Margo Maguire (8 page)

By the vilest means possible.

“Y
ou did not sleep well last night, my lady?”

Christina crossed her arms. “Of course I did. Why?”

“Oh, no reason,” Jenny said quickly.

But Christina had to admit she had not been very good company all day. Not that Jenny had any grand expectations, but they’d always been quite compatible. Christina knew everything about Jenny’s parents and siblings, and had given various members of her family generous gifts on different occasions—Christmas, christenings, feast days.

Jenny had become Christina’s maid three years before, when Christina had come out in society. She’d gone with Christina to Edward’s house after her marriage, and been a great comfort when the circumstances of her husband’s death had become known.

She had not understood it any better than Christina.

“I do hope we’re almost there,” Jenny remarked.

Christina looked out the window, but saw no sign of a town. She shook her head. “We must still have some distance to go,” she said.

She was weary, too, for it had been a long ride in the enclosed carriage, and in truth, she had
not
slept well. But she could hardly admit the reason for her insomnia to Jenny, as close as they were.

“The miles would clip along faster if Captain Briggs were to ride inside with us, don’t you think, my lady?”

Jenny’s sentiment was far too close to what Christina had been thinking most of the day. “It would be far too crowded, Jenny. Did you not notice the man’s height?”

“Oh aye.” She sighed. “He has a horseman’s long, strong legs. And those shoulders. Aye, you’re right. We’d surely be crowded. But oh . . . what a lovely crowd.”

Christina remembered quite well the powerful lines of the captain’s legs. And the breadth of his shoulders.

And she would never forget the way he’d looked at her when he walked in on her as she exited her bath. In spite of his intoxication—or perhaps because of it—lust had burned in his eyes.

Edward had never looked at her with such abject desire. During the months of their marriage, he’d bedded her weekly at most, and without much enthusiasm. She’d thought perhaps she was odd, since she’d felt a great deal more desire. But Christina had been too embarrassed to seek her mother’s counsel. And then Edward had died.

The circumstances of his death explained his indifference, and crumbled Christina’s wifely confidence. She had failed at capturing her own husband’s passions.

“Where do you suppose he got that little scar at the corner of his eye?”

Christina had wondered not only about that small scar, but the ones she’d seen on his torso, too. He’d been wounded several times but somehow managed to survive. “In the war, I suppose.”

“It makes him look . . . I don’t know . . . dangerous.”

Christina made no reply. He
was
dangerous, if only to her peace of mind. Her thoughts became unclear when he looked at her as he’d done the previous night, and her body burned in that utterly frustrating way she’d experienced whenever Edward came to her bed.

Just the thought of Captain Briggs’s beautiful, strong hands was enough to make something melt inside her.

“But he’s a handsome sot in spite of it, don’t you think?”

Christina did not want to think of Captain Briggs or the impossible sensations he made her feel. “I’m hungry,” she said. The man occupied far too many of her thoughts as it was, without Jenny going on about him, too.

“Aye,” said Jenny. “I hope the next inn has better fare than what we had at the Middleton Arms. The mutton stew had more turnips than mutton.”

Christina nodded absently and turned her thoughts in the complete opposite direction of Captain Briggs and considered her sister, and the Duke of Windermere.

Her grandfather had to be a cold, uncaring fish to have turned out his own daughter, and then
her
daughters when they were so deeply in need.

Christina wondered about her parents, about her mother who’d married against her father’s wishes and borne two children. Where had they lived? Had they been happy? Had her mother ever regretted her decision to wed Daniel Hayes?

She hoped not. She found herself exceedingly glad her mother had chosen her own husband, and trusted that Sarah had found the love and compatibility that had been lacking in Christina’s own marriage.

“The carriage is slowing, my lady.”

Christina glanced out the window and felt a moment of alarm when she realized Jenny was right. But they were still some distance from their destination.

She’d worried about carrying so much valuable jewelry, but there had been no other option for obtaining the kind of money her blackmailer demanded. They had taken the precaution of traveling as inconspicuously as possible, and both Hancock and Trevor were armed.

Still, every sensational story Christina had ever heard of highwaymen came to her, and she scrambled to try to think what she would do if they were stopped by villains.

She heard her driver’s voice, but could not make out his words. Suddenly the carriage lurched forward, moving even faster than before and jamming Christina’s heart into her throat.

Chapter 7

G
avin was
surprised by the degree of relief he felt when he saw Hancock’s calm, sedate
expression. Clearly, nothing untoward had happened since Gavin had ridden ahead.
And the carriage had only a few miles to travel before they reached the safety
of the inn where he’d come to his ominous realization.

“Captain Briggs, sir—is there trouble ahead?” the
driver called out to him as he started to slow the horses.

Gavin shook his head. “No, but keep moving,
Hancock!”

The driver touched the brim of his hat and spurred
the horses to a gallop while Gavin fell back to flank the carriage. There was a
gap in the curtain, and he saw Christina’s questioning expression.

An explanation was in order. She needed to know
about Baron Chetwood and the danger he’d posed to Lily only a few weeks before.
What a fool he’d been to assume the man was no longer a danger to Christina.

He tipped his hat, breathed slightly easier, and
sped up to ride alongside Hancock at the front of the carriage. As soon as the
carriage arrived at the inn, he was going to speak to Christina and warn her of
the possibility that Chetwood had her in his sights.

J
enny
sat back and sighed with relief. “I wonder what that was about. Could you hear
what they said?”

Christina gave a small shake of her head. “I hope
there’s no trouble ahead.”

“Wouldn’t Captain Briggs have said so? To warn
Trevor and Mr. Hancock to watch for it?”

“Hmm. Likely so,” Christina replied, though she
worried that there might actually be some difficulty ahead, but they were
driving on in spite of it.

She sat tensely, feeling worried, as well as
hungry, tired, and uncomfortable. She would be on edge until the last stretch of
the day’s journey was over. When the carriage stopped in front of a large inn,
Christina did not wait for Trevor to come and open the door.

She unlatched the handle and looked out, only to
encounter Captain Briggs reaching for the door handle. If she was not mistaken,
he was glowering at her. It was quite a different look from the blatantly
lustful gaze that had burned through her the night before.

“Go ahead, Jenny. I’ll be right there.”

Without breaking his gaze on her, Captain Briggs
assisted Jenny down the step first, then stuck in his hand for Christina. She
made a process of gathering her small traveling bag and reticule, then
descending the steps as regally as possible.

She did not know why he seemed so angry—unless he
suddenly remembered to be annoyed at having to travel to London with her.
Whatever it was, she intended to demand an explanation after they were settled
in their rooms.

She took his hand and his touch caused a hot pulse
of awareness to shudder through her. Never before had she considered that one
man might be more “manly” than another, but she could not help but think so now.
From his voice to the way he looked at her, she felt the tug of his virility
deep in her womb.

And there seemed to be nothing she could do about
her reaction to him.

“I’d like a word with you, Lady Fairhaven,” he
growled. The harshness of his voice matched his dark visage.

“Perhaps later, Captain Briggs.” She took as
haughty a tone as possible. She would not succumb to the absurd attraction she
felt. He was just a man.

And he needed to understand who was in charge of
this venture.

“No.
Not
later. I’ll
see you in your room in five minutes.”

Christina clenched her teeth and raised her chin,
then walked away, unwilling to argue with him in front of the servants in the
stable yard. Clearly, he was not about to bestow on her one of those brilliant
smiles she’d seen that morning in Middleton.

She could not imagine the reason for his anger, or
what he wanted to say to her. Nor would she meet with him in her bedchamber.
That had happened twice already, and each time, she’d found herself at a severe
disadvantage.

She entered the inn after Jenny, who was already
starting up the stairs behind the innkeeper, a man named Palmer. Jenny stepped
aside to allow Christina to walk ahead of her, and the man took them down a long
corridor, not unlike the one at the Middleton Arms. He pushed open the door to a
small guest room with barely enough space for the bed and Christina’s bag.

Unwilling to make the mistake she’d made the
previous night, she put her hand out for the key. The innkeeper gave it to
her.

“Captain Briggs already ordered a meal for your
party,” he said, “and it will be ready soon. I’ll send one of the girls up to
fetch you when we’re ready to serve.”

“Thank you,” Christina said as she removed her hat
and set it on the bed. “Is Captain Briggs’s room nearby?”

“Aye, my lady,” Mr. Palmer replied, indicating a
room not far from Christina’s, “just there. But you’ll be safe enough up here
with your maid. I keep a respectable house.”

“I’m sure you do. Thank you.” Christina removed her
pelisse and set it on the bed as the innkeeper turned to leave. “Is his room
locked?”

The innkeeper frowned at what Christina seemed to
be suggesting. “My lady—”

“These rooms have all been let in my name, on my
account, have they not?” she asked in a puffed-up tone.

“Er, yes they are, my lady.”

“Well, perhaps you would unlock it for me,” she
said. “There is something I need to leave for him.”

The innkeeper looked unsure, but did as he was told
after only a moment’s hesitation, and Christina made a point to remember this in
future. Taking on the imperious tone her mother used during certain
circumstances truly worked. Christina had been remiss in not following her
example.

Jenny cast Christina a doubtful glance as Mr.
Palmer left them, and whispered to her. “What are you going to do, my lady?”

“Only give him a dose of his own medicine.” Even if
she had stepped into his room at Holywell, it was nothing like what he’d done to
her.
Twice!

“Lady Fairhaven—”

“Do not worry, Jenny. Nothing untoward will happen.
Now, go downstairs and get me some water for washing.”

The maid looked dubious, but knew she was not to
argue with her mistress. “A bath?”

“Not tonight. A basin will do.”

It would be a long time before she could step into
or out of a tub without remembering the expression in Gavin Briggs’s eyes when
he’d caught her naked. She did not think she wanted to recall it now.

G
avin
searched the inn for the blasted woman, but she was nowhere to be found. Her
bedchamber was empty, and she was not in the common rooms, or anywhere else on
the main floor.

Damnation.
He had told
her he would see her in her room in five minutes.

She was not there, and her maid was not in sight,
either. He checked with her footman and driver, who said they’d last seen her
going up to her room.

He was in a severe temper when he went to his own
room for his greatcoat. Clearly, something had happened to the bloody woman, and
he was going to have to search the grounds for her. He pushed open the door to
his room and stood stock-still at the sight of her, sitting on a chair next to
the fire. Calmly waiting for him.

“What is it, Captain Briggs? You appear
surprised.”

Bloody hell.
“I told
you—”

“But you do not give me orders, Captain.” She
smoothed her skirts. “And now you know how it feels to have someone breach your
chamber without your permission. You can be grateful you have your clothes
on.”

Chapter 8

H
e was not grateful for it in the least.

The most sensitive parts of his body roused at the thought of pulling her unclothed body against his. Of slipping his fingers through her shining curls.

With her chin raised in defiance, those same parts demanded that he kiss the audacious, self-satisfied expression right from her blushing face. Somehow, his better sense prevailed.

“I am more than aware that I am not the one giving orders, else you would be safely ensconced at Windermere, visiting with your sister and collecting your inheritance.”

“We have been over this, Captain Briggs,” she said, then frowned. “And what do you mean—
safely
?”

Gavin clasped his hands behind him and reminded himself that it was
he
who had been remiss. He should have considered Chetwood. If he’d explained about the bastard—perhaps even exaggerated the threat—Christina might have agreed to go directly to Windermere. Except that would mean abandoning her purpose in London.

And Gavin had come to understand she had the same kind of bond with her brothers that he shared with Eleanor. None of them would let the others down.

“Besides the fact that you are traveling with an enormous fortune in your carriage?” he asked.

“I have to bait the blackmailer with something, don’t I?” She turned away to the fireplace and the flickering light seemed to shimmer in her short curls. Her ordinary black traveling gown hugged her curves in a way he’d never appreciated on any other woman.

She could have baited the blackmailer with that—her backside—and left her jewels at Sweethope Cottage.

Gavin scrubbed a hand across his face with irritation and frustration. Just because he’d had one tantalizing glimpse of her delectable attributes was no good reason for him to keep ruminating on what he’d seen. Much as he would enjoy another foray into her private chambers, she’d made her point.

“We need to come to an understanding, Lady Fair—”

“No,” she said, whirling to face him, her cheeks reddened by anger, “
you
need to come to an understanding, Captain. This trip to London is undertaken by my authority. You are here to support me . . . and my decisions.”

Gavin had never realized how entertaining—or how arousing—it could be to witness a woman in full pique pacing the floor. He took a seat, crossed his arms over his chest, and watched as she strode from one end of the room to the other, lecturing him.

“Mind, I do not say I will not accept your guidance when we arrive in London,” she said. “But I will make the decisions regarding the blackmailer. And my brother.”

Gavin stretched out his legs and watched, when every inch of his body begged him to stand and face her. Touch her. Taste her.

“Of course I would never have actually shot the man, but I might have threatened him . . . a little . . . into telling me what he knows about Lang.”

Still, Gavin did not say anything. He was not sure he even could—she stirred his blood as no other female he could imagine. Even Amelia.

“And I would gladly pay the two thousand pounds, just for news of my brother. Do you understand what it would mean to me to find him alive?”

She clutched her hands against her chest, almost in the same way she’d held the towel against her breasts the night before. Gavin could almost feel the softness of those feminine mounds in his hands, and how she would react to his touch.

“Have you nothing to say, Captain Briggs? Are you listening, or am I wasting my breath talking to you?”

He took note of her full lips and knew exactly how they would feel upon his heated skin. Like a ripe fruit, sweet and tangy on his tongue. Or even more probably, like the explosion of a fiery cannon.

He knew better than to allow his fantasies to flourish this way. He stood. “Lady Fairhaven, this is not a one-sided proposition.”

“Of course not. You don’t want to go to London, and I don’t want to go to Windermere. And here we are. An agreement was made.”

Gavin took a deep breath. She was safe, at least for the night, and he’d seen no signs of danger since their departure from Holywell. That didn’t mean Chetwood had given up.

She frowned. “What is it? What haven’t you told me?”

She was far too perceptive for his peace of mind. “There is another factor that might interfere with our journey to London.”

“What could possibly—”

“Your grandfather’s heir is a man named Randall Vaughn, Baron Chetwood.”

“A distant relative, I assume, since my mother’s brother is dead.”

He gave her a quick nod. “And an unsavory one.”

“Exactly
how
unsavory, Captain Briggs? And what has he to do with anything?”

“Chetwood attempted to eliminate your sister from inheriting anything from your grandfather.”

She lowered her brows. “What do you mean?”

“He hired two scoundrels to find her and do away with her before she could go to Windermere and meet her grandfather. Meeting him was a condition of her inheritance. And yours.”

She gave him a fierce look, her face flushed with color. “
Do away
with her? Wh-where are these men now?” she demanded with indignation, and Gavin could not help but admire her spirit. With the kind of devoted determination she showed toward Lang, it was no surprise that she would feel the same about her sister, in spite of never having met her.

He answered her bluntly, although he did not specify exactly what he’d done. “I’ve dealt with them.”

She met his eyes, then folded her arms as she shuddered visibly.

Gavin refused to feel like a monster, at least not over this. Chetwood’s men had ambushed him and attempted to kill him to prevent him from finding Lily and taking her to her grandfather. And then they would have done the same to her. Gavin could feel no guilt for doing exactly what they had intended to do to Lily.

“And you think this baron will try to . . . to do away with
me
now?”

“No. At least, I don’t think so.”

“You’re not making sense, Captain Briggs.” She resumed her pacing. “If you . . .
dealt
with the men sent by—”

“Lady Fairhaven, your grandfather initially wrote his will stipulating that you and your sister would inherit all his unentailed wealth, but only if you both went to Windermere to meet him, and to claim it.”

She stopped in her tracks. “I take it to mean that if we do not go to Windermere, Baron Chetwood will inherit it?”

Gavin nodded. “Yes. As heir to your grandfather’s title, Chetwood will inherit the entailed properties. But there was a provision that the duke’s unentailed wealth—which I gather is substantial—is to be divided equally between you and Lily.
But only if you could be found and brought to him
.”

“You said there was a provision.
Was?
”

“When I set out on my search for you, Lily and her husband were planning to travel to Windermere and speak to the duke about that untenable—and dangerous—condition of his will.”

“But . . .” She chewed her lower lip for a moment. “Baron Chetwood? He was not informed of the change?”

Gavin hesitated. That was the sticky point. “If the changes were made—”

“If?”

“If Lily and Ashby arrived at Windermere. If your grandfather was still alive when they got there . . . If they were able to find Chetwood . . . and if Chetwood was willing to let it go . . .”

Christina was frowning again, and Gavin could almost see the thoughts and questions churning through her mind. They were questions he should have asked before they set out for London.

“If all went as planned, then your grandfather has at least attempted to make Chetwood aware of the changes.”

“Attempted.”

Gavin could only give a brusque nod. He didn’t know if he was overreacting to seeing Chetwood’s look-alike, or if there was good reason to worry. But then he recalled the viciousness of the man’s verbal—and almost physical—attack on his own wife in the parlor at Windermere Park.

“Baron Chetwood is a mean rogue of a man. It’s possible that when he learns of the changes to your grandfather’s will, he will harbor even more animosity toward you and your sister.”

“Because we will inherit some of the duke’s wealth?” She swallowed, the movement of her throat inviting his touch, perhaps even his kiss.

“And because the man has expensive . . . interests.” There was no need to mention that Chetwood was rumored to be one of the Hellfire Club’s most outrageous members.

“Do you think Lily is still in danger?”

“She has her husband to protect her.”

Christina looked straight at him with those striking green eyes. “And I have you, haven’t I, Captain Briggs?”

C
hristina hoped Lily’s earl was as formidable as Captain Briggs. She could not imagine a tougher adversary. One thing bothered her, though.

“Captain Briggs, this is the first you’ve mentioned Baron Chetwood to me. In three days.”

“Because I assumed the man was no longer a threat.”

“But now you think he is? Has he . . .” Oh dear. “Have you seen him?”

He shook his head slightly, noticeably disturbed by his oversight. “No.”

“Then what?”

“I remembered what a greedy reprobate he is reputed to be, and what he tried to do to your sister. The man has no conscience whatsoever, and would certainly view your grandfather’s will as unfair. He is . . .”

Captain Briggs paused for a moment, considering his words.

“The baron is utterly foul. He is as far from trustworthy as a man can be. And I was wrong to assume he was no longer a threat.”

“What interests? You mentioned they are expensive.”

“Not suitable for a lady’s ears,” he growled.

She tried to imagine some vice she had not heard of in recent months. “Well, I’ve learned since my husband’s death that there is gambling, drinking, and womanizing . . . What else can there possibly be?”

“Lady Fairhaven, you do not want to know.”

She took him at his word and did not pursue it, not when he stood so close, with his magnificent hands on his hips, and one powerful leg slightly bent. Christina did not believe she’d ever known anyone quite so elemental.

Perhaps she ought to abort their trip to London and hurry back to Windermere with him. But that would mean abandoning her brother, which she would never do. And besides, if Captain Briggs was correct, Baron Chetwood was likely to be angry still, even after she and Lily collected whatever inheritance the duke bequeathed them. Going to Windermere would not make her any safer.

She could not concern herself with Baron Chetwood now.

“Then I can assume you intend to stay nearer to my carriage as we travel?” If not actually inside . . .

He nodded and moved even closer to her. “Aye. Or at least, I will not be far from you. I’ll be able to hear a shout, or a shot if one of your men fires his gun.”

He was so large and imposing, and Christina felt an achingly strong need to trace the crescent scar beside his eye. Or put her finger to the slight cleft in his chin and feel the rasp of his whiskers.

She took an unsteady breath. Perhaps she’d erred in breaching his room alone. “Wh-what if something happens and my men aren’t able to fire a shot?”

“They’re capable lads.” He took another step forward. “They’ll manage it.”

“I sincerely hope you are correct, Captain Briggs.”

“All I know is the sooner we get to London, the better.”

She pressed her back against the door, facing him. “Captain Briggs . . . When we get there . . .”

He pivoted slightly and placed his hand against the doorjamb, quite near her head. A dangerous gleam came into his eyes and she felt an expectant thrill shudder through her.

He spoke quietly, his voice deep and rich. “I have no idea what will happen, Lady Fairhaven.”

“I was thinking . . .”

He touched her hair with his free hand, his eyes roving the contours of her face. She felt speechless as he dipped his head toward hers. His breath feathered against her cheek, sending spears of heat through her.

“Do you h-have any sort of plan?”

“Aye.” He cupped her jaw with his hand and ran his thumb across her lower lip just before he kissed her.

C
hristina seemed to melt against him, her body touching Gavin’s in all the right places.

He’d been right. She tasted like an explosive, just before detonation.

He angled his head and opened his mouth, eliciting a sound of arousal from deep within her breast. He coaxed her lips open, and slid his tongue in. She met it tentatively, growing bolder as he sparred with her.

He felt her hands on his shoulders, resting passively at first, then squeezing tightly, skimming into the hair at his nape, drawing him in. She trembled and he slid his arms around her, pulling her tight.

Gavin wanted naught but to take her to the bed and lie her upon it. To open the buttons of her bodice and bare her body, to slip his hands under her skirts and find heaven.

He knew he had to stop. She was not some treasure to plunder. It was her return to Windermere that would gain him the treasure he sought. Not an illicit liaison.

He broke the kiss.

But he did not immediately release her. Touching Christina was far more intoxicating than he had imagined, and he doubted he could ever get enough of her.

“Christina,” he whispered.

Her eyes were unfocused.

Gavin relished the last few moments he would feel her fingers in his hair, her breasts against his chest, her thighs against his own.

He clenched his teeth and gave her a moment to realize what was happening. What she must do.

Awareness came to her gradually, and her eyes widened. She lowered her hands as Gavin pulled away, and he wondered if she would slap him—as she had every right to do.

But she merely stood looking at him with confusion in her eyes, then swallowed and turned to open the door. She fumbled with the latch and Gavin had to reach past her to release it.

Once it was open, she fled without a word.

C
hristina ought to have felt mortified, but she did not. She was somewhat embarrassed, for what proper lady allowed herself to be so thoroughly kissed in such a wholly
im
proper setting—a man’s bedroom? It was entirely too wicked. She’d let herself in for it, of course. She had not observed respectable decorum, and thus, she paid the price.