Desiring Lady Caro (8 page)

Huntley walked her to the door. “Certainly.” Keeping his desire from her was becoming more and more difficult. She was so close it was all he could do to stop from kissing her. “Until then. Five o’clock?”

“If you wish. I can always sleep in the coach.”

He accompanied her to her chamber, then returned to the parlor and called for Collins, Dalle, and Raphael. When the men arrived, he explained the plan. Huntley glanced from one to the other. “Do any of you have a comment to make?”

Raphael and Dalle spoke in a rapid colloquial Italian that Huntley had trouble following. Dalle looked at Collins and Huntley before saying, “If we stop just long enough to change horses, and if we don’t have to wait for them, we can do it, my lord.”

He stared at the map and nodded. “Which means we’ll have to bring provisions with us.”

“Yes, my lord,” Collins said.

“Very well. We still have some of what Lady Horatia gave us. I’ll have Maufe speak with the innkeeper and the cook.”

Raphael spoke quickly to Dalle, who frowned. “Raphael says that it’d be better if we were to even out the loads. The coaches would be able to travel closer to the same speed, and that would make it easier to keep everyone together.”

Under the circumstances, that was an excellent idea. “Very well, distribute the baggage between the carriages.”

Dalle glanced down and shuffled his feet before saying, “Raphael says it would be better to move . . . The thing is, he wants Miss Nugent to ride with Maufe.”

The devil!
Were they trying to get him murdered? Huntley took a large breath and tried not to think about Caro’s reaction to that suggestion. “I could ride with Maufe.”

“No, my lord. That won’t work,” Dalle said. “We need to keep the weight the same.”

Huntley dragged his fingers through his hair. “Perhaps it would be better if I hired a horse.”

Collins shook his head. “No, my lord. The marchese and his men know what you look like. You’d be right noticeable on a horse.”

Damnation
. If they thought he was going to tell Caro, they deserved to be in Bedlam. Extensive experience with angry women told him he’d be better off playing least in sight until the fracas was over.

Huntley raised a brow and fixed Dalle and Raphael with a firm gaze. “Which one of
you
is going to explain this to her ladyship?”

Dalle gave him an innocent look. “We thought you’d do it, your lordship.”

Ha.
They were delusional. Huntley looked down his nose. “Then you thought wrong. I have a better sense of self-preservation than that.”

“You sure, my lord?” Caro’s groom grinned knowingly.

“Very.”

Dalle screwed his face up as if he were in pain. “I reckon it’ll take both me and Raphael to explain.”

“I wish you joy of it.” Huntley took a swig of wine. “Collins, you can tell me when it’s safe to make an appearance.”

Huntley held Collins back when the other two left. Once the door was closed, he asked, “How are we fixed for weapons and ammunition?”

Collins scratched his cheek. “Pretty well, my lord. I’m told both her ladyship and Miss Nugent are good shots.” He paused for a few moments. “You want me to make sure everyone’s armed tomorrow?”

“Yes. I want to be prepared for whatever happens.” Huntley would like nothing more than to grind the marchese under his boot, but he had the feeling his wife wouldn’t appreciate such a primitive display of masculine power. He grinned. He’d let the marchese make the first move. “We will not start the fight.”

“No, my lord.”

After his groom left, Huntley poured another glass of wine. At least they’d eat and drink well on this trip. Huntley’s muscles hurt just thinking about how stiff he’d be to-morrow evening after another full day in the coach. He tossed off his wine. It was time to go to bed. He’d have an irate wife in the morning; he didn’t need a headache as well.

He went to his chamber and gave Maufe his orders.

“Just what I suspected would happen, my lord.” He helped Huntley out of his jacket and hung up the clothes. “I’ll go down now so that the landlord has some warning.”

Huntley climbed into his cold bed and pulled up the cover.
His wedding night
.
Damn.
One day he’d have one, but it wouldn’t be to-night. He prayed that one day his wife would look forward to time alone with him in a coach, but it wouldn’t be to-morrow. What would it be like to have Caro, warm and lush, next to him? His body sprang to readiness with arousal, and he punched the pillow. One day couldn’t come soon enough for him.

A
ntonio was almost half-way back to Venice before he’d recognized his mistake, leaving the inn in Verona. After stopping at a posting house and arranging for new horses, he’d sent messengers out in all directions. One by one, his servants returned with no news of where Lady Caroline might be. Only the rider he’d sent north had not yet arrived or sent a message.

Waiting for news, Antonio paced the large chamber he’d demanded from the innkeeper. He’d been so shocked at the announcement of Lady Caroline’s—no, the Countess of Huntley’s—wedding, that he had not thought it through properly. Antonio punched the wall next to him. He should have dragged her out of the room. What did it matter that she and Lord Huntley were wed? Many men had married women for mistresses, and Lady Caroline would be his.
Diavolo
. If he’d taken her to-day, she would still have been a virgin for him. An image of her spread beneath Huntley as he pounded into her raged in him. He ground his teeth. Antonio refused to be cast down. He would keep Lady Caroline as his mistress, until the Englishman died. If Huntley remained alive Antonio would have to marry another woman, but that was no trouble. His grandfather would arrange for a suitable match, and after his wife had given him a son, she could go her own way.

Of course, if Lady Caroline’s husband should die, Antonio could marry her. He rubbed his chin. He’d made the threat to-day out of anger, but truly, that was the answer. Kill the Englishman and take Lady Caroline to wife. He poured a glass of brandy and tossed it off. She’d be under him soon. All white skin, shimmering blond hair, and blue eyes. Soon the most beautiful woman in Venice would be Antonio’s, and his life would be perfect.

 

The next morning, Huntley decided to assist Maufe in the kitchen as he arranged the provisioning. The noise level in the carriage yard, where the coaches stood ready to depart, rose. Swift, light steps ascended the stairs; something hard hitting a door echoed down to the kitchen. Whatever Caro was using to hit the door was probably meant to be used on him as well. Soon her steps returned rapidly back down the stairs again.

Maufe opened his mouth. Huntley held up a hand, silencing him, until the outside door to the inn closed. “I’ll tell you, Maufe, I know why my father makes himself scarce when m’mother is on a rampage. There are few things worse than having an irate wife looking for one.”

“Yes, my lord.” Maufe’s lips twitched. “Especially if the wife in question is one’s own.”

And unbedded
, Huntley thought ruefully. All his tricks to calm a woman involved touching of some sort.

A few minutes later, Nugent’s voice climbed above Caro’s. “
My lady
, they have already explained it to you twice. This is the best distribution of the weight, so that the coaches can travel quickly and remain together.”

The voices lowered, and Huntley studied the kitchen’s dull white ceiling, waiting until it was safe to go outside. He’d no doubt be treated like a pariah for at least several hours, but even if nothing more interesting than a game of chess occurred, at least he’d have Caro to himself for the rest of the day.

The shouting stopped, and Maufe touched Huntley’s sleeve. “I think it’s all right to go out now, my lord.”

“I suppose so.” He ran his hand over his face. “We must leave sometime.”

The cook’s mustache twitched and he gave Huntley a sympathetic look. “Sometimes the ladies, they are difficult, no?”

If only he knew. “There’s no understanding them.”

The cook smiled and made a drawing with his hands of a woman’s shape. “But, with such perfection.” He shrugged. “We do not need to understand. Only
amore
is needed.”

Huntley stared, stunned, at the cook for a few moments before grabbing his hand and shaking it. That was the answer Huntley had been searching for. “Thank you. You’re absolutely right. Only love”—
or something damned close to it
—“is needed. Come, Maufe, we have a full day ahead of us.”

“Ah, milord, perhaps I have something that will help put your lady in a better mood. A moment, please.” The cook went into his larder and came out with a package. “For the contessa.”

Huntley held the parcel to his nose and breathed in deeply.
The chocolate tiramisu
. That would go a long way to getting him back in Caro’s good graces. “I cannot thank you enough, signore. This is exactly what I need.”

“We husbands, we must support each other.” The chief pointed toward the yard. “Our lives are not always easy.”

“How true.” Huntley strode out the door, plan literally in hand. The coaches were ready to go. Maufe distributed the bundles of food between them.

Huntley climbed into his carriage, glanced at his wife’s frowning countenance, and handed her the package. “This is for you.”

Her expression changed from angry to curious. “What is it?”

He leaned against the plush squabs and grinned. “Smell.”

Caro lifted it to her nose, her bad mood disappeared, and a beatific smile appeared on her face. “
Chocolate
.”

“The rest of the tiramisu.” Huntley hid his sigh of relief. That was easier than he’d thought it would be.

She held the package close to her generous breasts for a few moments before giving it back to him. “Keep it from me until after luncheon. Otherwise, I shall eat it all now.”

He raised a brow in inquiry.

“Even if I
beg
for it,” she said, “
do not
give me the parcel until after luncheon.”

He leaned his head back again and regarded her for a few moments. Her turquoise eyes sparkled with joy, and it occurred to him that there was very little he’d withhold from her, and she didn’t even need to beg. “Very well, but you must remember, this was your decision, not mine.”

She made a shooing motion. “Put it away where I can’t see it.”

“Very well, close your eyes.”

Instead Caro’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

Damn
. He hated to see the mistrust. He gave what he hoped was a reassuring look. “Trust me,” he said teasingly, “only for a moment. I promise not to try to steal a kiss.”

Her body seemed to hum with palpable tension, but her sable brown lashes fluttered down.

Huntley quickly placed the tiramisu under the seat behind her bag. “There. You can open them now.”

She stared at him in surprise. “What did you do?”

“I hid the package,” he said calmly. “What did you think I was going to do?”

Caro blushed. “I—I don’t know.”

He tried to keep his face relaxed. “Caro, you have nothing to fear from me.”

“I’m sorry. I am not used to trusting.” She rubbed her forehead. “May we discuss something else?”

“Anything you wish.” He had a long road ahead of him before she’d allow herself to have enough faith in him to discuss the most crucial topic, the rape. Yet if he and Caro were to have any kind of marriage at all, they must talk about it, though now was obviously not the right time. One step at a time. After she was safe, he would broach the subject with her. “Would you care for a game of chess?”

She let out a breath and smiled. “Yes, the same rules as yesterday?”

“No, a bit different, I think.”

They whiled away the hours making extravagant bets. Caro moved her queen. “Checkmate,” she crowed happily. “I believe I now own your castle, my lord.”

Huntley gazed down at the board. She had him dead to rights. “I think you do. I’ve nothing more to wager.” The coach slowed. “Aha! My fortunes have turned.”

Caro laughed. “You’re lucky it’s time for new horses.”

They’d agreed that all their imaginary property would return to its owner and the slate would be wiped clean at each change.

“I wouldn’t gloat overmuch,” he retorted. “I seem to remember you were down to your last chicken the last time we stopped.”

He placed the game board on the seat beside him and, after jumping down, held out his hand.

Caro took it and, still unused to the travel, climbed stiffly out of the coach. “So I was. How quickly one forgets near poverty.”

They strode briskly back and forth for the few minutes it took to hitch up the new team.

“In you go.” Huntley glanced up at the sun and calculated how long it would be before it started to sink behind the mountains. “We should have just one more change.” He turned and called out to Dalle. “How much farther?”

“Another ten or twelve miles, my lord.”

Holding up her skirts, Caro started to climb the carriage steps, then fell back. Huntley caught her. His every nerve awakened when his arms went around her warm body. His senses clamored for him to continue to hold her as her soft feminine form pressed against his chest. She tensed and remained silent. Sucking in a breath, he brought his errant body under control.

“Careful,” he said, not knowing if he spoke to himself or her.

He slowly released his arms from around Caro and grasped her elbow, steadying her as she stepped in and took a seat.

Huntley folded the stairs and hopped in as the coach lurched forward.

“You aren’t hurt, are you?” he asked solicitously.

“No.” Caro hesitated. Her arms and back still tingled from where Huntley had touched her. That had certainly never happened before. She was even more surprised that she hadn’t wanted to struggle away from him. “No, I’m fine. Thank you for keeping me from falling,” she said. “I don’t know what is the matter. I am not usually so clumsy.”

He stretched his neck from side to side. “It is really not very surprising. You’re stiff from sitting for such long stretches in a confined space. When we get to our inn, would you like to take a walk before dinner?”

In an attempt to ease the ache in the small of her back, she leaned forward and rubbed it. “You must be right. I am feeling cramped. A walk will be just the thing.”

He was much stronger than he looked. When she’d slipped, he had caught her and lifted her upright as if she were a feather, and his arms when they went around her were much more muscular than she’d thought they would be.

“Would you like your tiramisu now?” he asked.

“Oh, you kept me so busy, even during luncheon, I forgot about it.” Her mouth watered. “Perhaps I should wait until we reach the inn.”

He shrugged, and the corners of his lips tilted up. “You could, but the chef might have something else to tempt your appetite.”

Caro found herself grinning. “Very well, but you must eat some as well.”

Huntley had a very charming smile. How straight his teeth were, and his face was strong. That was a strange thought for her. Other women talked about such things, but Caro didn’t think she had ever noticed a man’s teeth before, not unless there was something wrong with them, that is. Reaching under the seat, he brought out the box and utensils, placing them on the fold-down table they’d played chess on. He handed her a spoon and opened the container. Oh, it smelled heavenly. If she ever returned to Italy, she would make a point to stop at that inn again.

Before she could dip her spoon in to take a scoop, Huntley’s spoon touched her lips. Caro open her mouth and tasted. “Oh, that is so good. But you cannot feed me all of yours.”

She took some on her spoon and stuck it out at him. Her spoon wavered. Just reaching out to his lips, even if only to feed him, seemed so very intimate. He, of course, would have engaged in this sort of conduct with other women. Caro tried to ignore the irritation pricking her over Huntley being with other females.

“Here,” she said, jabbing the spoon at him again.

He guided it to his mouth and closed his eyes as he tasted the tiramisu. “That is every bit as good as it was last night.”

Caro’s mouth dried as she watched him lick the spoon, taking the last little bit. He held a dollop of the confection to her lips again. What had she gotten herself into? She opened her mouth, and he grazed the spoon over her lips. She wanted to sigh as the smooth metal slid into her mouth. Each time she held her spoon out to Huntley, he took her hand and prompted her to lean closer to him. She searched his face for any sign that he may try to touch her in another way, but could only see his enjoyment of the tiramisu.

A few minutes later, she sighed as she glanced down at the empty dish. “There’s no more.”

He gave a short laugh. “No, my lady, there is no more. We can only pray that the chef in the next inn is as good.”

Leaning back against the squabs, she watched while he put the utensils and dish away before setting up the chess-board again. Spending the day alone with him had not been nearly as horrifying as she’d originally thought. Other than catching her when she started to topple or helping her from the coach, he’d not attempted to touch her and, under the law, he had every right. Perhaps he really had meant what he’d said, that he’d not force his attentions on her.

She sat up. “Are you black or white this time?”

“I’m white.” Huntley’s eyes sparkled bluer than yesterday. “What have you to lose?”

“Let me think.” Caro tapped her nose. “I have an old castle on the Rhine, and hills of vineyards.”

He stared at her for a moment, and she stopped. “What is it?”

Shaking his head, he responded, “Go on. I’ll ask later.”

“Well, a castle and vineyards, and a village, I think.”

Smiling, he said, “I have a chateau on a river . . .”

Close to an hour later, Huntley was just about to put her queen in jeopardy with his rook when they pulled up at an inn.

Caro laughed. “Ah, saved in the nick of time.”

He gathered up the game pieces again. “You’re very lucky, my lady.”

Caro was impressed; he really was an excellent strategic player. “You play to win, my lord.”

“I didn’t think you’d want me to
allow
you to prevail.”