03 - The Wicked Lady Page 8

  "Ye bloody bastard. I don't know why I ever agreed tae be seen with ye." She tried to jerk her arm free. "Well, I will not be seen with ye no more. Ye can damned well take me back tae London, and get one of those other females ye boasted about tae help yer sorry hide out of yer predicament." She raised her chin with a cool stare.

  "Now I see what has you riled up." He laughed richly. "I don't want any of the of the other females." He loosened his grip. "I want you."

  "That's not what ye just said. Ye said I wasn't no more than a piece of dirt tae ye." She tried to hit him again, but he pinned her arms behind her back and stared down into her angry green eyes.

  What spirit she had, Trevor thought. Her eyes glistened with fire, and he wondered if she would be just as passionate in his arms.

  "If I had told them just how valuable you were to me," he stated softly, "then you would have been thrown across the saddle and hauled out of here, posthaste." He watched the play of emotions on her face. "Perhaps you didn't notice that we were slightly outnumbered?"

  "Aye I did." She regarded him with a speculative, suspicious, gaze. "However, the number didn't seem tae bother ye none. Look how ye disposed of them."

  He ignored her offhanded compliment. "Then maybe you've forgotten that I have been shot."

  "Shot," Kristen almost whispered, realizing she had forgotten the wound during all the excitement. She'd even thought Trevor was dead a minute ago. She remembered the devastating hurt that had stabbed her chest when she thought she'd lost him. as she stared at him now, she realized she would have died if anything had happened to him. She reluctantly admitted that small fact to herself. Still--

  She saw the light in his eyes reflecting a tenderness before he hid it from her again. She could feel his supple muscles tense.

  "It would be very nice if you could stop the bleeding. Unless you want me to bleed to death."

  "I thought they'd killed ye." Her voice cracked as she struggled with her emotions. She wanted to reach out and hug him to her as she did Hagan when he was hurt.

  "Thought--or hoped?"

  She frowned at him. He was fishing for some tenderness, but he wouldn't be getting what he desired. etter to let him think she didn't care. "Get back into the vehicle, so I can attend tae yer wound."

  The other vehicle had finally reached them, and Kristen could hear Hagan running toward them.

  "What happened?" Hagan dashed up to his sister followed by Rebecca.

  "Are you all right, mum?" Rebecca asked.

  The guards surrounded the carriages. One of them rode closer. "Should we go after them, Your Grace?"

  "No, stay with the carriages," Trevor instructed. "The damage has been done."

  "We were held up. One of the men shot Trevor," Kristen explained as she pushed the victim toward the carriage door.

  "Well, you shot him, too." Hagan quickly pointed out from behind her.

  "Hagan!" Kristen's stern voice warned him. She didn't need to be reminded of what she'd done over and over again. "Go back tae the carriage, so we can get out of here."

  Trevor glanced back over his shoulder. "You're right, Hagan," Trevor said. "Being around your sister isn't good for my health." Trevor's gaze returned to Kristen. "If I can remember back a few weeks, my body was whole and without a scratch." He cupped her chin before entering the carriage. "You're dangerous, lady. Very dangerous."

  "Aye." She smiled, then added, "We were looking tae put some excitement into yer life. However, I dinna ken with putting more holes in yer body." The amusement died in her eyes, as she regarded him with searching gravity. "I truly am sorry. Perhaps yer right, I'm really not very good for ye."

  Once they were in the carriage and it had begun to move again, he reached over and took her hand. "I'll be the judge of whether or not you're good for me. Now, if you'll kindly bandage my shoulder...”

  Trevor was stretched out on the soft cushions of the vehicle, so it was easy to kneel down and looked at his wound. She tore open his shirt and winced at the ugly hole in his right shoulder. "The bullet will have tae be removed," she informed him needlessly. "But I don't think it has done much damage."

  "Good. When we arrive at Chatsworth, Grandmere can summon the surgeon." He winced as Kristen placed a makeshift bandage torn from her slip against the hole. "I've instructed the driver to drive all night so we should arrive by mid-morning."

  "We can't get help sooner?"

  "Afraid not, sweetheart. e're in the country now and don't have the conveniences of London."

  This wasn't the first time he'd ever used an endearment, but she knew he didn't mean anything by it, so she didn't bother to comment. Kristen tore long strips from her petticoat and started wrapping his shoulder. "I think I've stopped the bleeding for now."

  "You are a very pretty nurse."

  "Thank you." She smiled at him, thinking how helpless he looked just now with his head propped upon the cushions. However, she knew Trevor Claremont, Duke of Chatsworth, was anything but helpless. She'd seen just how dangerous he could be, but instead of being frightened, she found the thought intrigued her instead. Unfortunately, she had an odd hankering for the man.

  "What are you thinking?"

  She chuckled, then decided to lie. "I was surprised at how well ye handled yerself back there. Most men of yer rank are nothing more than dandies. They would have probably fainted dead away."

  "I'm not most men, Kristen."

  Her eyes darted back to his as she heard him whisper her name like a caress. She felt that familiar warmth that she experienced when he was near her, and she barely whispered, "I know."

  Trevor pulled her to him with his good arm and tasted her honey-sweet lips. How could this one small woman block out every sensible thought he had in his head until nothing was left but her? When he slept, he could smell her fragrance. He could remember her touch. Hear the sound of her very feminine voice. She seemed to be all around him.

  He was used to women always wanting something from him--his title, his wealth, always something. But this woman wanted nothing from him, but his protection, and that was only at his insistence. If it hadn't been for her brother and the threat of jail, he'd have lost her the minute he turned his back.

  He felt as if he were holding a small bird in his hands, and if he opened this hands she might fly away. And that scared him more than he'd like to admit. Was his small bargain becoming more than he'd first expected?

  All his tumbling thoughts brought out a tenderness in him he didn't know he possessed as his mouth slanted over hers. His wounded arm moved painfully to slide around her waist, and he deepened the kiss, pressing her lips until she opened her mouth and he found what he sought.

  Raw pleasure--pleasure he'd seldom known--coursed through his body, and he drew away from the temptation, hoping to see wariness in her expression. But that wasn't to be. What he saw was a lust that matched his own as she moistened her lips, and he lost what little sanity he had left.

  Kristen wondered why he stopped. And why did he look at her in such an odd way? She liked this kissing stuff he'd taught her, yet she felt something was missing every time they ended up like this with him staring at her in that most peculiar way.

  Sliding her hands up his chest, she brushed his lips again and stared down at his smoldering eyes that appeared more grey than their usual bluish-green.

  Again his lips molded to hers, and her head swam with a desire for something more as she innocently pressed her body closer to his. She needed to be near him. She needed more, even if she didn't know exactly what.

  "Kristen, you'd drive a sane man crazy." The words tore from his throat.

  His urgent whisper only made her body become more acutely alive and she whispered back, "Aye."

  His long, lingering kiss felt wonderful, and Kristen returned his passion with unrestrained enthusiasm as her hands roamed over his body, feeling every muscle that lay like steel beneath his fine linen shirt. When his lips started down her neck, pausing on her ear, she shivered and, on
ly then, realized that she now lay on top of him.

  Trevor must have perceived the same thing because he looked at her and whispered. "Not now, sweetheart. I want to wait until the time is right, and I'm not so weak from a wound."

  Embarrassed, Kristen had forgotten all about his wound and quickly glanced down to see the bandage had turned a dark red. "I'm so sorry." She scrambled to get off him, failing miserable. "You should have told me ye were in pain."

  To her surprise, he grinned. "Oh, I was in pain all right, but not from my wound."

  She quickly removed herself and frowned at his unusual words, not quite sure what he meant. What other pain could he be experiencing? She sat down across from him.

  "You're too far away." He held out a hand to her, reminding her of a child. "Come back and let me rest my head in your lap."

  Kristen did as he instructed. As soon as his head was settled in her lap, he closed his eyes and went to sleep, leaving her to stare down at the most handsome man she'd ever met. In sleep he looked so different, so lovable. She trailed her hand through his tousled hair, and he snuggled closer to her, causing her to smile.

  She didn't deserve him.

  And she couldn't come to need him.

  But, just maybe, she would enjoy him . . . if only for a little while.

  Chapter Six

  The sun had started to drop lower in the sky when the sleek, black carriage made its way around a huge lake that shimmered like a looking glass. In the very middle, swimming with their heads held high, were a pair of black swans. And that's when Kristen first spotted Chatsworth. She wasn't prepared for the enormous size of the mansion. How could one family live in a place that could house hundreds? There must be dozens of servants to clean a place like this and they would probably all laugh when she was introduced to them, Kristen thought. They would see that she was an imposter who pretended to be something she wasn't.

  From what she could tell, the house had at least seventy-five windows across the front. There were towers that seemed to reach to the sky, and she could count at least ten chimneys from her view.

  Trevor slept with his cheek resting next to her stomach and held the hand she had laid across his chest. Kristen looked down tenderly at him. She touched his forehead and wondered if he'd developed a slight fever because his forehead was so much warmer than before. Squeezing his hand, she sighed. t least Trevor would have help soon. His grandmother would know what to do.

  Kristen glanced back to the castle, spreading out before them nestled on perfect green lawns. Come to think of it, it was much too perfect. And too cold. She could not question Trevor's wealth now, and Kristen doubted that she'd ever fit into such a place. A few table manners and some new clothes didn't change the person she was.

  As she stared at her new home, another large estate took its place, a home she'd seen many times in her daydreams. Instead of white, this home had a rusty hue that blended in with the rolling green of the highlands. But how could she know this? She'd never been here before and she'd never seen homes this large.

  For a fleeting moment, she envisioned a child running across the grass, her streaming red hair waving like a flag behind her. And if Kristen listened closely, she could hear the child's laughter as she played.

  Who was this strange child who kept appearing to her? It couldn't have been herself, for surely she'd remember such a grand home. And all she could recall were small houses and unhappy times.

  The vehicle drew to a stop and brought her back to the present. She had arrived at Chatsworth. She was going to meet her new family. How would the dowager duchess feel about her? Would she welcome her with open arms? Kristen made a face. More likely, his grandmother would look down on her as just another piece of trash.

  "Trevor. Wake up. We're home . . . er . . . rather, we've arrived at yer home."

  Trevor's eyes fluttered open, and he blinked, the confusion of an abrupt awakening on his flushed face. "H--how long have I been sleeping?" He sat up. "Why didn't you wake me before now?" He moaned and winced groggily when he moved his shoulder. She wondered just how much pain he was experiencing.

  "I thought I'd let the sleeping beast lie," she told him with a smile. "Sleep and a doctor are what ye need most."

  The footman opened the carriage door and Trevor descended first, then turned to lift a hand for Kristen, but the sudden movement caused him to lose his balance and he swayed drunkenly. Kristen scrambled out the best way she could, and slipped an arm around his waist.

  "Here, let me help you, mum," Rebecca said as she rushed up from the second carriage, followed by Hagan.

  "That will not be necessary," Trevor said, evidently embarrassed that he couldn't make it without help.

  However, Kristen wasn't fooled. "Lean on me," she whispered as they slowly made their way toward a most unusual door. She stopped and waited for someone to answer the knock. It gave her a chance to examine the doors.

  The broken pediment was surmounted by a lion and a griffin. In the middle of the doorway, just above their heads was a carved shield that displayed a coat of arms in the center of the shield. Two large columns entwined with laurel leaves stood on the side of the double doors."

  Finally the door swung open, and a tall, thin man with white hair filled the space blocking their entrance. "Who should I say is calling?" His graze raked over Hagan and Rebecca.

  "Why, His Grace, of course, Billingsly." Rebecca informed him. "Where are your spectacles?"

  "I--I beg your pardon." Billingsly stuttered, then blinked, and looked past Rebecca.

  "Billingsly, kindly get out of the way and fetch my grandmother, posthaste," Trevor muttered, his voice demanding in spite of his pain.

  The shocked butler instantly recognized the authoritative voice of his employer and practically ran to do Trevor's bidding or as fast as his seventy plus years would let him.

  "Billingsly is a bit nearsighted, or he'd have recognized my coach. He's also a tad old, as you can see, but insists on answering the door. This has been his job for the last forty years, and he's loathe to give it up," Trevor explained while they stumbled into the house.

  As they moved past the massive doors and into the main hallway, Kristen could only stare at the huge staircase that displayed portraits as large as she was. Everything was black and white, and except for the vivid oils in the portraits there was very little color in the room.

  Cold, she thought again. Much too cold.

  Now she could see why Trevor was so withdrawn and careful not to show much emotion at all.

  "Ye actually lived here?" she whispered, while supporting his weight the best she could.

  "Most of the time. Don't you like it?" Trevor leaned against a table for support and to take some of his weight off Kristen.

  "One couldn't help but like it, I suppose," Kristen answered, her voice betraying the doubt she tried to conceal. "How do ye keep from gettin' lost? I'm afraid I might take a wrong turn and never find ye again."

  "Rest assured, sweetheart," Trevor said slowly, managing a low chuckle. “I'll always find you."

  Kristen wasn't sure what he meant by that statement. Was he giving her a compliment or threatening her? However, she didn't have a chance to ask because a stout woman with white hair swept into the hallway. Kristen knew this had to be the Dowager Duchess by the regal way she carried herself. For her age, her skin was remarkably smooth, and her cheeks looked like rosy red apples, but those crystal blue eyes held no welcome as Kristen had hoped they would. The woman more or less glared at Kristen, then a shrewd look entered her eyes before she looked away, dismissing Kristen as one would a servant.

  "It's about time you made an appearance, Trevor. And what do you mean sending word to prepare for a wedding when I've not even met the bride?" She stopped in front of Trevor. "I do hope you chose well and she's from a good family."

  "You sure do talk a lot," Hagan said, stating the obvious.

  The duchess turned until her gaze rested on Hagan. "Mind your manners, young man. And
who, pray tell, are you?"

  "Grandmere," Trevor said, his tone conciliatory. "I see you are feeling much better. I feared you might still be in bed."

  "I could hardly stay in bed after your announcement. And why are you draped across that young lady. Stand up." She motioned impatiently with her hand. "Haven't I taught you anything?"

  "Grandmere, you have taught me so much," Trevor managed to tease her even though his face still mirrored his pain. "This young lady is my fiancée."

  "I see," Constance Claremont said. Her white eyebrow rose a fraction of a inch.

  She inspected Kristen as if she were buying a horse. Kristen wondered if the woman would ask her to open her mouth so she could check her teeth.

  "She is a pretty little thing," Constance finally commented.

  Trevor sagged a little further. His added weight forced Kristen to finally speak. "Do ye mind if we get yer grandson tae a bed? He's been shot."

  "My God, she is Scottish. You're marrying a Scot!" Constance's tone sounded chilly. "And you've been shot!" Her eyes grew wide with horror and her face paled with revulsion just before she slumped to the floor in a dead faint.

  " 'Tis not good." Kristen shook her head.

  "Doesn't appear so," Trevor took a deep breath, "But actually she took it very well." Trevor gave Kristen a grave smile before he turned slowly and called, his voice growing weaker, "Billingsly."

  "Gracious me!" Billingsly exclaimed as he peered down at the duchess, a look of horror on his face as he wrung his hands together uncertain of what he should do. "Yes, Your Grace."

  "Please have someone fetch the physician and some smelling salts for grandmere. Rebecca, if you'll look after my grandmother, I'm going to find a bed while I can still stand."

  Suddenly the room filled with servants helping the duchess as Kristen and Trevor moved up the grand staircase. She could hear the duchess mumbling to her servants.

  "He's brought a bloody Scot home to marry! Claremont will roll over in his grave," Grandmere declared.