Rebel Marquess (37 page)

There was a niggling fear in her heart that his revival of the masked thief was simply a lark, or a chance to satisfy some curiosity about her, or at the very worst, a scheme of revenge for the humiliation he’d suffered on the day of their wedding.

But that fear was small, and in comparison to the hope that had blossomed at the first sound of his voice, it was inconsequential. Tonight he was giving her another chance, and it did not take courage for her to grasp hold of it with both hands. All it took was the love flowing steady and strong within her.

She stood for a moment, soaking in the warmth from his cloak, looking up at his masked face, now more visible without the hood though still well concealed by the heavy darkness of the forest trees.

“I trust you, my lord highwayman,” she whispered, “but before I mount that horse with you, I demand a solemn vow.”

“What vow, mistress?”

“You must promise to answer three questions of my choosing.” She gave a dismissive gesture of her hand. “And I am not talking about casual questions that come about during conversation. I will preempt each of my inquiries with a reminder of your promise and I expect truthful answers. You are free to fabricate your replies to any other question I may ask, but those three must be answered in all honesty. Do you understand?”

He did not reply right away. Obviously, he would be concerned she might demand to know his identity before he was willing to reveal himself, if he intended to reveal himself at all. He had to decide how much control he was willing to place in her hands. Whatever his plan, she could alter the course of the night at any time with the promise she demanded.

“You have my vow.”

With his words still resonating in the still night atmosphere, he turned and hefted himself smoothly into the saddle. Then he leaned forward and offered her his hand.

Eliza eyed him dubiously but placed her hand in his. In her next breath, she was lifted clear from the ground. The moment of weightlessness drew a breathless laugh from her lips before she landed sideways in his lap.

“Hold tight,” he said as he urged the horse deeper into the forest.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Neither of them spoke for the next three quarters of an hour as they followed the path of a gurgling stream before turning to cross a moonlit glen and reenter the forest again on the other side.

As Eliza sat securely in his arms, her side pressing against his solid chest, his breath steady and his arm strong at her back, she realized she would be content to remain like that for the rest of her life. The twisted jumble of betrayal, guilt and regret that churned within her started to unravel on the quiet midnight journey. As they continued toward some unknown destination, Eliza finally understood that the greatest accomplishments of her life would feel empty if Michael wasn’t at her side. Stoic, arrogant, scowling in a way that darkened his eyes and made her want to grasp his face in her hands and kiss away his disquiet. Somehow he had become tangled up with her vision of the future. She hadn’t even realized it until she had cut him out of it and felt the loss of him everywhere, every day.

She held her tongue and kept her silence though she yearned to profess her feelings, confess all her fears and tell him she would do whatever it took to convince him she could be both a novelist and a wife.

But for now, she recognized there was a freedom in playing along with the deception.

He had a purpose in coming for her tonight, and now she had a purpose as well. Before the arrival of dawn, she would learn what chance there was for the imperious Marquess of Rutherford to love the last of the dreaded Terribury daughters.

“We are here.”

Eliza saw nothing but more black silhouettes of the endless trees surrounding them. Then a structure seemed to form out of the darkness itself. As they drew closer, she realized it was a tower. A simple square tower built of stone with arrow-slit windows and crenellation around the top.

“What is this place?” she asked, intrigued and inspired by the odd structure arising out of the forest for no discernible purpose.

The marquess directed their mount around the tower to one side where a makeshift shelter had been created amongst a thicket of young saplings.

“A lord’s folly. Forgotten and abandoned for decades.” Drawing the horse up, he released the reins and shifted to dismount. He moved with confident strength and care so as not to disrupt her seat. Once on the ground, he roped the horse’s lead to a tree near the shelter and turned back to Eliza. When he settled his hands at her waist, she felt a tingle of anticipation in her center and her heart leapt with excitement. He lowered her to the ground until she stood between him and the horse behind her.

When he did not step away or lift his hands from her body, she lifted her gaze. His brown hair fell haphazardly over his forehead and around his neck. He had let it grow longer since last she had seen him and the rich-brown locks helped to shield the more distinct angles of his features. He towered over her in his nearness. The width of his shoulders a reminder of his physical strength. She was well and truly at his mercy and she felt a thrill that was a little bit wariness and a lot keen readiness.

“Your courage holds out. Do you fear nothing? Even the company of a stranger in the night?”

He had not released her waist and Eliza completed the half-embrace by resting her hands on his arms. She tilted her head and gave a light smile. “But you are no stranger. I know exactly who you are.”

He stiffened. The muscles of his arms tensed beneath her hands. “You do?”

“Of course. You are a thief with the manners of a gentleman. A man who prefers to hold himself removed from others but feels responsible for those who would follow him. Someone who conceals his truth behind a mask of aloof condescension.” Eliza’s voice faded as she realized she may have given herself away as her words trailed into a description more specific to the marquess than the mysterious highwayman she was supposed to be addressing. She held her breath as he remained still and silent for several long moments.

“What do you seek, mistress, that you would agree to come out with me on a night like this?” His voice held a raw edge of emotion and Eliza felt it reverberate in her core.

“I seek only a chance to live life without the restrictions others would impose upon me.”

“Who would confine your spirit in such a way?”

“It is the very nature of our world that would seek to hold me back from fulfilling my dreams.”

“Have you no husband to protect you and see to your happiness?”

“I see to my own happiness,” Eliza answered carefully.

“Yet your sadness tonight is evident.”

Eliza paused before answering. The truth was difficult to express, but she was not on this adventure to be timid. “Recently, in choosing my happiness, I lost something precious.” She did not try to conceal the emotion in her voice. “In being loyal to myself, I had to betray someone whose friendship I treasured.”

“Such choices are never easy. A true friend would understand.”

“It is my sincere hope you are right, and that some day he may understand why I felt at the time I had no choice.”

“Do you love him?”

Eliza laughed. She would not make it quite that easy for him. “You questions grow far too personal.” She stepped away from him, feeling the slide of his hands from her waist. A light misting rain had begun to fall. “Is there a way into the tower?” she asked.

“This way,” he said as he led her to a small arched door set into the wall of the tower. The wood was so weathered it blended seamlessly with the stone. But the hinges were well-oiled and the door opened soundlessly under his hand.

She preceded him over the threshold to see a stone staircase rising from the floor and following the walls up and around in a twisting path to the top of the tower. The door closed behind her and she was plunged into pitch black darkness.

A flash of panic flew through her at the thought he had shut her in the tower alone. She spun around. Her shoulder brushed against something solid, and on instinct, she lifted her hand. As her palm pressed over the warm beating of his heart, the panic receded as if blown by a swift wind. She bit her lip to resist the desire to step into him, to press her body full-length to his. It tortured her to be so close to him and yet keep herself removed. She could only imagine his shock should she give in to the urging in her soul and throw her arms around his neck to steal a passionate kiss from the highway rogue.

He shifted and she felt him press his large hand against the low inward curve of her spine. Her breath caught and her body softened to accept his embrace. But he did not draw her near. Rather he exerted gentle pressure with his hand to turn her, as if they were partners in a waltz and all she had to do was follow his lead.

“Keep a hand on the wall as you ascend the stairs,” he advised in a low murmur. “It will help to maintain your orientation. I will be behind you the entire way.”

Eliza followed his instructions. The steps felt smooth and well-worn beneath the soft soles of her slippers and the stone wall, though cool, was dry to the touch. With each turn of the stairs, she was able to see a bit better. At first, she suspected it was simply that her eyes were becoming more accustomed to the darkness, but after a while it became clear that a gentle yellow glow flowed from above. A bit higher and she could see the floor of an upper room and then the distinct outline of an arched doorway. Beyond was the flickering light from a single candle.

Intrigued, Eliza stepped through the narrow archway and gasped at the scene that appeared.

By the uncertain light of a single candle Eliza saw woven tapestries covering the stone walls from ceiling to floor. Small windows could be seen in the spaces between. But unlike the arrow slits she’d passed on her way up the stairs, these were diamond-shaped and set with stained glass. The floor was covered with rugs in various sizes and colors and in the center was a heap of large pillows reflecting the candlelight with the sheen of satin and the rich texture of velvet.

The night air outside had held a distinct chill, but the tower room exuded intimacy and warmth.

She wandered toward a lushly curved chaise nestled into the corner, remembering the day the marquess had laid her down on the sofa in his room. Heat suffused her bones and a tremble weakened her muscles as she thought of that sensual afternoon. She glanced over her shoulder. Though he had remained silent as they made their way up the stairs, she had felt his presence behind her the entire way. Searching the shadows where the candlelight couldn’t penetrate, she saw him just beyond the arched doorway, keeping to the concealing darkness.

With a small smile for his diligence in trying to remain unrecognized, she lifted her hands to release the fastenings of his borrowed cloak. She swept it from around her shoulders and dropped the covering to the chaise.

“Will you keep yourself in shadow for the entire night?” she asked.

“That depends.”

Eliza paused to study him. He stood with his shoulder propped against the doorframe in a deceptively casual stance. His arms were crossed over his chest and his chin was dipped low. Though he effectively blocked the entrance with his large form, she did not get the sense it was his intention to do so. She knew he would step aside should she ask to leave.

“I would like to ask my first question,” she stated after several minutes. She sensed rather than saw him stiffen and she felt compelled to remind him of his promise. “Three questions in all and remember you vowed to answer truthfully.”

“I did. And I will,” he replied.

Eliza thought carefully about what she would ask and decided to start with something the least threatening to his disguise. “What prompted you to sit in wait along the highway the night we met?”

“I was compelled to assist a friend who had gotten himself into a difficult predicament.”

“Helping him required you to steal from unsuspecting travelers?”

He hesitated, likely aware that her question had not been phrased to be one of the three and that he could answer in any way he wished. “Our intention was to retrieve something of personal value that had fallen into the wrong hands.”

Eliza felt the truth of his words. “And the rest of the items were returned,” she added in dawning understanding. “Of course. I knew it had not been for greed or glory. And what about the second time in Hertfordshire?”

He shook his head. “Your curiosity is relentless. Enough questions for now.”

“But that is why I am here,” Eliza argued with a smile. “To discover your secrets and reveal the mystery behind the mask.”

His low chuckle reverberated from the shadows. “Some mysteries run too deep to be uncovered.”

“Oh?” Her curiosity perked more acutely. “What sort of mysteries?”

“The mystery in a woman’s heart, for one.”

She scoffed. “The heart of a woman is not so enigmatic, I think, to one who would honor her as she is without trying to change her or curb her passions.”

“Only a foolish man would rein in a passionate woman.” The rough timbre of his voice crept silkily through the room. He gestured toward the heap of pillows on the floor. “We have all night to speculate over such things. Relax. Enjoy the refreshments.”