A Daughter's Destiny (16 page)

When a cannon blasted, she shrieked. Marksen's ship rocked before turning away from the other. She feared it would run them down, but headed away from them. More cannon fire raged through the night.

“Just row,” Evan muttered. “As long as they pay attention to each other, they may not pay attention to us.”

Brienne nodded, too tired to talk. An ache started in the center of her left shoulder and ran like a fiery thread across her back and into her right one. Inching down her spine, it settled in both shoulder blades as she wrestled with the water to extract the oar and push it through the wave again and again and again.

“How—much—farther?” she gasped.

“We are nearly there.”

“Nearly there?” She glanced over her shoulder to see the dark silhouette of the land rising past the soft foam of the waves.

“Don't stop!”

She continued to match his strokes until the small boat grated on the sand. He leaped out into the pulsating water and reached for Brienne's hand.

Helping her out of the boat, Evan grimaced. He waved aside her questions as he ordered, “Hurry, honey. Get ashore while I confuse your friends.” His foot shoved the boat out into the waves. The sea would play with it until it was dashed into tinder. With luck, the debris would wash ashore far from them.

She watched it bounce on the waves as they stood in the shadow of the hills edging the shore. In the distance, the low lights from the two ships were like two stars hugging the horizon.

“My pistol!” she cried.

“Where is it?”

“In the boat.”

“It is too late to worry about it now.” Evan tugged on her hand.

She turned and followed him up from the water. He did not need to tell her that they needed to disappear … fast.

Chapter Ten

Evan kept his arm around Brienne's waist as they climbed the hill that seemed as steep as the cliffs near Dover. She leaned against him, and he knew that two nights without sleep were weighing every step she took. She was not accustomed to this life. When his breath banged against his throbbing ribs, he realized he had gotten soft in the past few years, too.

“Evan,” she whispered, “will you tell me one thing?”

“What?” He fought to keep his pain out of his voice.

“Where are we?”

He paused and chuckled. That hurt his ribs, too. Marksen's men played rough, and several of them had been waiting a long time for this opportunity. “You really don't know?”

“I would not ask if I knew.”

“England. Marksen has been paralleling the coast all night.”

“Good.”

He had not guessed she could surprise him more, but she had. “Good?”

“I think I should talk with Grand-mère before I continue on to France.”

“Mayhap you should have thought of that before you ran away.”

When she stumbled against him, he glanced down at her again. Even in the dim light, she did not resemble the tidy woman he first had seen at her salon. The night shadowed her bruises, but with her hair hanging around her shoulders and the white of her chemise visible through the tears in her black dress, she wore the scars of every hour of her ordeal.

“What happened to your forehead, Brienne?”

She touched it and winced. “I don't know. I must have bumped it somewhere. It is not as bad as it must look. I will be a sight by the time I get back to London.”

“Can you keep going?”

“Do I have any choice?”

Evan smiled. She would not admit to exhaustion until she fell right where she stood. Looking ahead, he saw a copse that clung to the top of the hill. That would give them shelter until the sun rose and he could determine exactly where they were.

“You were as clumsy as a three-legged cat on Marksen's ship,” he said with a laugh, “and not much better now.”

“I don't think I was meant to be a sailor.” She walked beside him, depending on his support more with every step.

When she wobbled, he tightened his arm around her. She rested her head on his shoulder, even though his coat still dripped sea water. He had to smile as he enjoyed having her so close. At what sounded like distant thunder, she stiffened.

“'Tis fine, honey.” He glanced back. “That they are still firing on each other means they are not sure where we are. They will trade insults for a while, then leave.”

“Leave? Just like that?”

“Night beasts hate sunlight.” He grinned. “You really do look terrible. I have seen dead men with more color in their faces than you have.”

“You do not look so great yourself.” Brienne pushed herself away, wondering how she could be so selfish when he must be as exhausted and aching as she was. “I should not be leaning on you.”

He drew her back. “You are still my responsibility. I got you into this bumblebath, and I guess I am going to have to get you out of it.”

“Evan Somerset, you give incredible service to your victims,” she murmured as she relaxed against his muscular chest.

She heard his frown in his voice. “Victim?”

“Didn't you intend to steal the vase from my salon? Now you act like a dashing knight rushing to my rescue.”

His terse laugh rustled her hair. “Not all my clients, which is the term I prefer, rate my favorite services. Only very special ones.” When she did not shoot back a quick retort, he went on, “Don't worry, honey. With that lump on your head and me aching in every bone from chasing you halfway across England, I do not think either of us is ready for a night of passion as you seem to be suggesting.”

“Me suggesting? I never suggested anything of the sort!”

“No?” He looked up at the starlight sifting through the fog which still clung to the shore. “The night is nearly over, but we should sleep before the sunrise. I do mean sleep!”

“I hope you do, Evan.” She quivered and drew her cloak closer around her. She hoped he thought she was shivering from the damp, not because she could not keep from thinking of how splendid it was to be in his arms, his mouth on hers, her body craving his. Wanting this scoundrel proved she was witless.

“You do not trust me,” he murmured.

“Is that a surprise?” she returned to cover her true thoughts.

Instead of answering, Evan whistled an uneven tune Brienne did not recognize as he led her up a grassy knoll to the copse. Under a tree which was twisted from years of strong winds from the sea, he helped her gently to the ground. He dropped next to her and groaned as he hung his head over his knees.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

“I will be as soon as we are on the coach back to London.” He raised his head and smiled. “You do have enough money for that, don't you?”

“You don't have any money with you?”

“Not much.” He chuckled, then winced as he put his hand to his left side. “I rushed out the door after you so quickly that I forgot a few small details.”

Brienne rolled her eyes as she set her bag on her lap. “That is not a small detail. Fortunately, I have—” She gasped when she opened her bag. “My money is gone!” Pushing aside her clothes, she shook her head. “It is gone!”

Taking the bag from her, he peered into it. “Didn't you have your money in this box?”

“No!” She tore the bag out of his hands. When he stared at her in amazement, she hastened to add, “It was here with my clothes.”

He arched a brow. “I assume you took your eyes off your bag for a moment.”

“I kept it beside me.” She choked on another gasp. “They stole it when I fell asleep!”

“On Marksen's ship?” He crowed with laughter, then grimaced as he touched his left side again. “You are either the bravest or most foolish woman I have ever met. At least Marksen got the Ł25 you offered him to take you to France.”

“He stole twice that much from me.” Wanting to check the box to be certain the smuggler had not made off with the vase, too, she knew she must wait until Evan was asleep.

“Consider it a cheap lesson, honey. It could have cost you a lot more.” He pulled off his drenched coat and rolled it into a ball. “Now, how about that sleep? I could use a week or two of it myself.” He drew her down next to him on the cold ground.

She sat. “Evan, I cannot sleep here with you.”

Pulling her to lean over him, he gave her a leer. “Would you rather
not
sleep?”

When she pushed him away, he winced. “Evan?” she asked, her irritation becoming concern.

“One of Marksen's boys gave me a bunch of fives right in the ribs.” He curled his fingers into a fist and smiled. “Then I gave him a bunch of fives in the nose.”

“Thank you for coming after me,” she whispered.

“You're welcome, although next time I think I will put on that knight's shining armor before I give chase.”

His arm around her shoulders drew her back into the mat of grass, and she nestled her head again on his chest. The muscles which had been so rock hard when he pressed her to the deck became a lush pillow. The combination of his potent, masculine scent and the barely perceptible stroke of his fingers on her bare arm beneath her cloak enticed her to make her dreams of savoring his kisses come true.

When her hand drifted across his chest, he groaned. She started to ask him if she had hurt him, but he rose over her. Even in the dim light, she could see his smile. She stared up into his eyes which had become dark pools. Whispering her name, he found her mouth with the ease of craving. He took her hands and wrapped them around his shoulder as his fingers began a tender tour of her.

Swiftly she was caught up in the whirlpool of his passion. His lips' caress against hers mirrored the stroke of his fingers along her neck. When they swept lightly over her breast, she could not silence her fired moan of rapture. A pulse swelled through her, as powerful as the waves beating on the shore. She surrendered herself to the desire that ached in her very center. She moaned softly as his mouth moved down her neck while he loosened her cloak. His heated, moist kisses followed the neckline of her gown. Her breath burned hot and fast.

“Brienne?” he whispered in her ear.

She trembled as his breath grazed her fevered skin. “What did you say?”

“Go to sleep.”

“Sleep?”

He laughed with regret as he kissed her parted lips lightly. “At least try. It will not be easy to hold you in my arms when I would rather have you beneath me.”

“Evan—”

He placed his finger to her lips. “No, say only good night. To tell you the truth, right now, I believe sleeping is the best thing to do.”

“You would rather sleep than—”

“If you insist, honey, I can be convinced.” He pressed her back into the grass again. “Very, very easily.”

Brienne did not need more than the faint starlight sifting through the fog to know that he was being honest, for she could feel his need all along his body. With a strained laugh, she ordered, “Then, go to sleep!” She shoved his hands away and chuckled as he collapsed on the ground, being careful not to land on his left side. His joking covered other, far stronger emotions, she knew, for hers did. She longed to succumb to the luscious love he offered.

“Good idea.” When she nestled beside him, he murmured, “I don't know why I did not think of it myself.”

Already half-asleep and warmer as she savored the happiness he offered her, she glided into dreams of being in his arms as he discovered every bit of desire within her. It was the sweetest dream she had ever had … and one she wanted to come true soon.

Lips against her nape brought Brienne instantly awake. In confusion, she rolled over to see Evan smiling down at her. Before she could move, his mouth slid across hers to bring forth the rapture they had sampled last night. Luscious sensation spread along her with his eager touch.

“Good morning, honey,” he whispered as he teased her with ethereal kisses. “I wondered if you were ever going to wake.”

“Have you been awake long?” It seemed ludicrous to have this commonplace conversation while he was giving life to her frenzied dreams.

He chuckled. “To be honest—”

“And that would be a pleasant change.”

“I see you are going to be as vexing as ever.” He smoothed her hair back from her cheek. “To be honest, I just woke. It must be near midday. With you in my arms, I was able to sleep so well.”

Her face flushed. A week ago, she had not even met him. Now she was lying in his arms, although she did not trust him. “Do you know where we are?”

“Other than on the English shore, no. I would guess we might be closer to Norfolk than London.”

“It will be a long walk home.”

“Yes.”

Brienne sighed as she sat and braided her hair. Pushing herself away from him, she rose to gaze across the pulsating azure water. The waves were empty to the horizon. Evan had been right. Smugglers despised the bright light of day. She wondered if it had been prearranged for Marksen to meet the other ship. No, the smuggler would not have risked his ship for Ł25. Even though he had stolen closer to Ł50 from her, he would have had no idea how much money she had until he took it from her bag. He had not had enough time to count it at the Fox and Swan.

Evan stood also. Facing him, she saw rage twisting his rigid lips and guessed his thoughts matched hers.

She put her fingers on his arm. “Evan, I am so sorry. I should have listened to you about Marksen.”

“You were doing what you had promised your
maman
.” He smiled ruefully and drew her back to him, propping his chin on her head. “You told me that you do not have the vase. I believe you.”

She was glad that he was not looking at her, for she did not want him to see her shame at lying to him. But she had vowed to Maman that she would not reveal the truth to anyone. Guilt taunted her, for how could she expect Evan to be honest with her when she was false with him?