Rebel Marquess (19 page)

Eliza slid to the other window, trying to see more, but the night shadows were too thick. Lord and Lady Palmer were also leaning forward in concern. Just then the words, “Stand and deliver” were heard echoing clearly over the sounds of horses and carriage.

Belinda gasped and pressed her hand to her throat while Lord Palmer grumbled heatedly under his breath.

But Eliza sat still as a stone in her seat, her heart suddenly racing so fast she grew breathless. It was not fear that sent the shock of alertness through her. It was a kind of tingling excitement that rolled up from her toes to her fingertips. Because she recognized the commanding voice that had formed the highwayman’s warning and knew in that moment the night was going to take an interesting turn.

The carriage came to an abrupt halt, roughly jostling the occupants. The door flew open and a heavy lisp ordered, “Out of the carriage, if you please. As long as you all cooperate, this will only take a few brief moments of your time.”

Her sister twisted her gloved fingers in growing fear. Lord Palmer held his wife within the circle of his arms and muttered words of comfort even as his gaze darted about with rising agitation. “Do as they say, my dear, and we shall be on our way. I will be beside you the entire time.”

Lord Palmer exited the vehicle first and then turned to help his wife.

Eliza should not have been irritated when her brother-in-law seemed to have forgotten she was with them. In the depth of his devotion to his wife, it was understandable he would be focused on Belinda’s care. Still, it was a touch embarrassing to be forgotten completely.

She was in the process of sliding toward the door to exit the vehicle on her own when a masked face appeared in front of her so suddenly, she nearly shrieked in surprise. “No point in hiding, miss,” the lisping thief advised as he offered a gloved hand to assist her.

Eliza would have liked to tell him she had no intention of hiding, not when she had a fabulous opportunity to prove her suspicions about the marquess accurate.

Once she stood in the road alongside the Palmers, Eliza glanced swiftly about, soaking up the details of the familiar scene. Of course, she recognized the lisping man as the one who had wheedled the jewels from her mother and Judith’s possession. Though she couldn’t see around to the front of the carriage, she suspected the man with the shaking pistol grip faced their driver.

Peering into the black darkness along the tree line, she searched for one more highwaymen mounted atop his borrowed horse. As soon as she found his impressive form, he urged his mount out from under the shadows.

“What are you doing here?” Though he spoke in that feigned baritone, Eliza detected the marquess’s formal cadence. The similarities had not been created by her imagination. Studying the dark lines of his familiar form, she confirmed they were very real.

She tilted her head and peered out from under the hood of her cloak, trying hard not to grin foolishly. “Oh, so you didn’t stop my carriage again on purpose? Here I thought you may have developed a
tendr
ѐ
for me.”

“What is this?” Lord Palmer demanded at her side, suddenly recalled to her presence. “Do you know these men?”

Eliza answered without looking away from the mounted highwayman who continued to stare stiffly back at her. “As odd and unlikely as it may seem, Lord Palmer,” she replied breezily, “these are the same thieves who perpetrated the infamous incident on the return from Silverly a few weeks ago.”

Belinda issued a small whimper of fright while Lord Palmer, in his apparent confusion, could only manage a quietly muttered, “You don’t say.”

“Infamous, eh?” the lisper questioned with a wide grin flashing beneath his mask. “So you must know all we want are yer bright an’ shinnies and we’ll be on our merry way.”

Lord Palmer immediately began to assist his wife in removing her valuables. Neither of them were the type to engage in even a token resistance. Eliza realized there would not be much time before the robbery was finished. She searched her mind for a way to force a closer interaction with the man she suspected was her betrothed.

And then she didn’t have to as he seemed to have found a reason of his own. A flash of delightful anticipation claimed her as he swung down from his horse and approached her in long, purposeful strides. She held her breath as the marquess—for she was further convinced it was he once he drew nearer and she was better able to discern the distinctive line of his jaw and the strong breadth of his shoulders—came to stand in front of her.

She boldly tipped her head back to meet his masked gaze.

“Do not claim to have paste for me again tonight, mistress. I shall not believe you a second time,” he declared in a graveled tone.

“You took something worth far more than paste at our last encounter.”

She practically felt his surprise at her audacity. Eliza bit the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning stupidly.

In spite of the sudden tensing in his posture, he managed to reply just as flippantly, “A treasure to be sure. But I find I am a greedy man and must ask for something more tangible than your thoughts this time.”

Eliza didn’t miss how he intentionally misunderstood her. She lowered her voice as she replied, “If you want my jewels, you will have to take them from me.”

“You will resist?” His voice revealed a note of surprise and his eyes flashed briefly within the shadowed slits of his mask. “That is a dangerous choice.”

Eliza gave a small shake of her head. “I will not resist, but I will not assist you either. Surely you have no qualms with taking the jewels from a lady’s person? You are a thief. Isn’t that what you do?”

“I am a thief and it is a foolish woman who would taunt a man who has nothing to lose.”

“Perhaps I am foolish,” Eliza admitted lightly, then she added in a whispered tone of conspiracy, “or perhaps I am so bold because I know you are not what you seem, my lord highwayman.”

Not waiting for a reply, Eliza lifted her hand from the folds of her cloak. Her evening glove reached to her elbow and around her wrist was a narrow strand of amethysts and emeralds in an alternating pattern.

After a moment of hesitation, while Eliza imagined her words sinking into his clever brain and she wondered if she had given too much away, the marquess stepped closer to her. She could feel the warmth coming from his body as his boots stirred the hem of her skirts and his coat disturbed the fall of her cloak.

A heavy wave of yearning passed through her.

“You are right,” he replied with just the right amount of insolence. “You are bold and I am not the
gentleman
thief you seem intent to believe.”

He removed his own gloves, tucked them into an inner pocket and reached for her hand. Brushing his thumb over the crest of her knuckles, he said, “You wear no rings.”

His tone was only faintly curious, but Eliza’s throat closed as she realized he had noticed the absence of his ruby.

“Not tonight,” she replied lightly. “Clearly a fortunate decision or I may have had to forfeit more than I could afford to lose.”

He dipped his chin forward, the shadows deepening over his visage. “I might have left you with one bauble in your keeping. So you would remember me kindly.” His already lowered tone had dropped into an even more intimate timbre.

Eliza felt the difference throughout her whole body. “You will not do so now?”

“I think not,” he answered, turning her hand palm up to expose the clasp of the bracelet at her wrist. “You still owe me from our last encounter, after all.”

“Then you shall have to consider another means of securing my favor,” Eliza dared.

“Hmm.” The tone of his murmured response was weighted with wicked promise.

Even in her confidence it was the Marquess of Rutherford standing before her, Eliza could not stop the delicate shiver of alarm from chasing over her skin at the hint of danger she sensed in his demeanor.

He reached for the delicate clasp of her bracelet. It fell free with only the barest touch and he slid it into another pocket of his coat. Without a word, he lifted his hand to push her hood back. One at a time, he released the earbobs that dangled from her ears and dropped them into his pocket. His touch was fleeting, but tingling chills of sensation spread like a web across her skin.

A specific kind of tension was harshly evident in every second, every brief touch, every slow-drawn breath between them.
It was as though they had stepped free of reality. The darkness surrounding them, the mystery of the moment, the way he was the marquess and yet he wasn’t. It all culminated for her into a perception just slightly off from the usual.

As if…as if she were a heroine in one of her own stories.

Could she be the brave and daring young woman who faced the frightening unknown to claim what she desired?

In movements that seemed slowed by time itself, he grasped the edges of her cloak. Eliza held her breath. His gaze focused intently on his task as he slowly parted the edges of her cloak and swept it over her shoulders. Roped strands of amethysts and emeralds fell at different lengths around her throat and rested against the upper swells of her breasts.

As she forced herself to stand unmoving under his vigilant gaze, shivers of awareness tightened her nipples and sent minute shockwaves to her core.

“Mistress?”

Did she hear a tremor in his voice?

“Yes?” There was definitely a tremor in hers.

“The necklace,” he said tersely.

She took a steadying breath. “It has a clasp as well.”

At first, she didn’t think he would do it. Then he lifted his hands and her heart skipped a frantic beat. His fingers were warm in spite of being exposed to the night air, and he slid them beneath the edge of her cloak where it pulled at the ties across her collarbone. The warm weight of his hands pressed down on her shoulders, anchoring her to the spot. He brushed his thumbs up the sides of her throat in a brief caress before he reached his fingers around to the clasp at her nape.

She wavered on her feet, fighting the urge to lean against him and wrap her arms around his waist. Her lips tingled with the desire to tip her face and press a kiss against the side of his throat. How she resisted the fierce impulse was an amazement to her, but she was glad she did. Such brazen behavior surely would have shattered the delicate veneer of unreality that lay over their interaction.

Eliza looked up at him.

She expected him to be looking away, maintaining his distant demeanor. But his dark head was bent low beside hers. Close enough she could feel his breath against her temple. Close enough that when she drew her next breath, she could smell the familiar spicy citrus of his soap.

Too close for her to meet his eyes.

The clasp released and the marquess slowly removed the necklace from her person. As he drew one end of the strand over her shoulder, the linked jewels followed a path across the swells of her breasts and around her neck, leaving a trail of heightened sensation in their wake. Eliza clenched her teeth against the soft murmur that threatened at the back of her throat, but she was helpless to prevent the sigh from passing her lips.

She might have sworn she heard a low, answering sound from the marquess. Then he lowered his head by slow and deliberate degrees until the warmth of his lips fell to the taut curve where her neck met her shoulder. Eliza fisted her hands as a rush of exhilaration claimed her. A bright and primitive tingling flared deep in her center. He brushed his lips gently up the side of her throat to press them again more firmly to a secret spot below her ear and her legs nearly collapsed beneath her.

She heard his slow intake of breath, as if he would breathe her in. A heartbeat later, he drew back, taking the necklace with him. Unable to move, Eliza leaned against the side of the carriage, feeling exposed and raw. The marquess leapt with agile strength into his saddle and turned his horse toward the waiting darkness. She stared at the black line of forest for several long seconds after he disappeared. A heavy sense of longing filled the space left empty by his departure.

She blinked several times to dispel the hazy fog encompassing her brain. The lisper rushed toward his own horse while Lord Palmer hastily helped Belinda climb back into the carriage. The entire episode had likely lasted less than ten minutes, yet to Eliza it felt as if a strange lifetime had passed.

Rutherford waited in the predetermined spot for his friends to join him. He was wound up with tension that had nothing to do with the danger of the robbery. He shifted in his saddle as the aching desire ebbed slowly away. In its place, anger reared its frightful head and he took several deep breaths to calm the ire in his blood.

Lucky for Grimm, he had his temper firmly under control by the time his friend approached from the darkness.

“Just whose party did your wife attend this weekend?” he demanded sharply once Grimm was close enough to hear him.

Grimm tilted his head. “Why…the one we’ve been hanging around all night. A cousin of some sort.”

The muscles in Rutherford’s jaw tensed. “What I mean to ask is what is the name of your wife’s cousin?”

“Oh, right” Grimm laughed weakly. It was an uncomfortable sound, as if he sensed Rutherford’s strained manner. “Hyndmarsh.”