Enchanted by Your Kisses (24 page)

Boots stood a few feet away from her. She told herself she should be disappointed, but all she felt was a heady sense of relief.

"Are you quite satisfied?" he growled, and Ariel wanted to sink back down to the ground. If his voice had sounded awful before, it sounded positively more than awful now. She swallowed.

"We no longer have a horse," he growled.

She kept quiet. Truthfully, she didn't think speaking would be wise just yet.

"You have just wasted the time it took for me to fetch the horse."

"Well, your time was wasted in any event, sir, for the horse you hired bucked me off."

"He bucked because you kicked him."

"I did not."

"You are a liar."

"I am not," she wanted to say, but she couldn't. Lying was something she'd never done easily. Witness how quickly she'd given up on being a female spy. "I am lying. And I am sorry for it."

Her admitting this must have taken him by surprise, for he said nothing in response. Then she saw his feet move her way, heard them crush the leaves beneath them. Truly, they were big feet. He paused next to her. Ariel wondered if he held out a hand she couldn't see. But he gave no indication that he did so, only said, "Congratulations, madam, you are now going to walk all the way to
Bettenshire
."

"Surely the horse has not run that far?"
Drat this blind.
How she wished she could see.

"To the next county."

He lied. She tilted her head back, but she could see nothing but leaves and his feet from her current position. Bother.

"Get up."

No, he wasn't holding out a hand, she could tell by his tone of voice. In fact, she was almost glad for the blindfold, for she had a feeling she didn't want to see his face. The boots moved out of her field of vision. She tilted her head back. "Where are you going?"

"To
Bettenshire
, without you if need be."

"Wait."

But he didn't. Ariel tried to push herself up, but her skirts had wrapped themselves around her legs, not to mention it was bloody hard to rise with one's hands tied behind one's back. In vain, she struggled, but it took her at least twenty long seconds to rise. When she stood, she scanned the ground for him.

He'd left.

But he couldn't have. He needed her.

Apparently, however, Nathan
Trevain
had momentarily forgotten that fact. So had she when she'd kicked the horse forward, but that was neither here nor there.

"Wait," she cried, turning in a slow circle. "Do not leave me."

"Too late," he called.

She turned in the direction of his voice, charging toward him, her lack of sight forcing her to use other senses to find him, which was probably why she didn't see the tree that came out of nowhere, why, she would wager, she bashed into it like a drunk on a binge. Her head hit first, followed closely by her breasts. For half a heartbeat there was a moment of shocked stupefaction, followed by a blast of sharp pain in her forehead. She felt herself tilting back as for the second time that day her breath whooshed out of her when she hit the ground.

Silence descended. She lay there, her nose throbbing. "
Ohh
," she moaned. She heard footsteps, was in too much pain to care.

"My, my, my," a silky voice drawled. "That was an interesting thing to observe. Was that some sort of gypsy ritual?"

She didn't move. Frankly, she wasn't sure she could talk just yet. If she did, she might howl loud enough to wake the dead.

"I've never heard of that ceremony before."

And was that amusement she heard tickling his voice? She turned her head and listened.

"It was quite. . .entertaining."

Why, that no-good bounder. It
was
amusement.

"You, sir, are an utter and complete blackguard." Humiliation filled her anew as she realized her voice sounded as high as Lady Pemberton's. Her nose was plugged from her collision with the tree. "You should be drawn and quartered for treating a lady thus." She struggled into a sitting position, wishing with all her might she could rub her stinging nose.

"I assure you, my lady, you are not the first person to wish me ill."

"Well, let me be the first to actually do you ill." She struggled to stand again. The bounder didn't even offer to help. When she finally managed to do it, she swayed a bit, the blood draining from her head. "What would you prefer?" she asked. "Pistol? Flogging?" If she'd had her hands loose, she would have placed them on her hips as she faced him.

Someone tapped her on her shoulder.

"I am behind you," said a voice, and blast it all, he sounded like he tried very hard not to laugh.

She swung around, titling her chin up, discerning beneath the blind that he was, indeed, standing where he said. "Well, bully for you."

And then he did laugh, a rollicking huge boom of a noise that made Ariel instantly still. Gracious, but he sounded odd. Like a human cannon that hadn't been fired for long time. She tilted her head and listened.

"You, sir, are a rogue," she said, when it appeared he wouldn't stop.

"So you've said before."

"Yes, well, I'm saying it again."

He laughed even harder. Ariel felt something within her snap. She charged. She wasn't sure she would hit him, but she gave it her best shot, hunching her shoulders low, hoping to run into him smack in the midsection.

She did.

With a satisfaction that would give her pleasure for years to come, she heard his breath wheeze out, then felt his body tilt backward. Unfortunately, he took her with him, clasping his arms around her torso as he fell. But by then Ariel didn't care. She was too filled with victorious pleasure.

"Ha, sir. Now who is laughing?"

He didn't say anything right away, which caught Ariel's attention. She tilted her head, wishing—again—that she could see.

And then he said softly, so softly she had to strain to hear him, "I believe, my lady, that a lesson is in order."

And suddenly her laughter faded. Too late she realized she oughtn't have done what she did. The ridiculous attraction she felt to him flared to life. She gasped, caught off guard by the myriad sensations suddenly coursing through her. They seemed to double, then triple, almost as if her senses worked harder to understand what her eyes couldn't see. She felt him shift, felt him tighten his grip with one arm, felt him move. And suddenly she could see. The blind was lifted from her face to reveal his own face only inches away.

Her mouth formed a little O as she observed sinful silver eyes staring into her own. Her breath caught as she realized his gaze seemed transfixed by her lips.

"You should watch yourself."

"I should?" she breathed.

"I would hate for you to damage that pretty head of yours."

He raised his hand again, only this time it was to touch the knot on her head. Gently, almost kindly. Gone was
Trevain
the Terrible; in his place was
Trevain
the Thoughtful.

And suddenly she didn't care that he'd just laughed at her. Didn't care that he'd kidnapped her. Or that he'd intended to use her and then betray her. It was the first time in a long time a man had looked at her thus and really meant it, and her heart told her Nathan
Trevain
really meant it.

Thoughts of his kidnapping her, however, had her recalling who she was. She dipped her head in shame. The loss of eye contact seemed to break the spell. He set her away from him gently, his hands lingering on her waist longer than necessary. They didn't speak another word as he helped her up. To her utter horror, she found herself wishing for the contact again.

"I shall untie you if you promise to behave."

She jerked her head up. "You will?"

"Aye, if you promise not to try and escape."

He stared down at her, his hair still bound in that queue despite his brush with the ground. She nodded.

"And I shall leave the blind off, too."

He was being kind, she realized, a warm feeling suffusing her. And suddenly Ariel's heart softened toward him. She told herself she still hated him, but she knew it wasn't true. He truly was being kind to her, genuinely kind, and kindness was something Ariel had missed in her life.

Desperately.

It took them two hours to reach
Bettenshire
. The trip was shortened by the horse they recovered less than a quarter-mile away from where it'd bolted. Nathan was never more relieved to see the estate where Ariel had been reared.

"'
Tis
a castle," he observed.

"Aye," his captive agreed.

They came at the estate from a higher elevation, but though its stone facade had aged over the years, the mellowed ivory color looked stark against the afternoon sky. Windows stretched along the bottom and top floors, sparkling in the sunlight. Green grass, meticulously scythed into a checkerboard pattern, lay across the grounds, trees that looked to have grown for ages framing the main building.

"'
Tis
beautiful, is it not?"

There was no animosity in her gaze, no loathing, no fear, only pride. The sun, coasting high above them, cast a golden glow over her features, making her black ringlets look almost brown. Her eyes were the color of amber, sparkling with some emotion he didn't recognize. Relief? Comfort? He wasn't sure.

"My mother once told my father that she fell in love with the estate before she did him. Knowing my father, she might not have been jesting." She smiled over at him.

"How did they meet?" he surprised himself by asking.

"Her family had camped on the grounds. There." She pointed to a small rise to the right of them. "My father had just inherited the earldom and was very full of himself, not that that has changed over the years." Her smile turned wry. "When he heard there were gypsies on his land, he was determined to send them away." She looked up at him again. "Can you see my father, the future First Lord, racing up that hill, unarmed? The servants tell me she said she was surprised he didn't think to bring along his silver spoon as a weapon."

And Nathan stood, transfixed, as he watched the delight dance a waltz through her eyes.

"Who do you think he first saw?"

"Your mother?" he guessed, telling himself the last thing they should be doing was sitting atop this rise, having a conversation about her family. And yet he was helpless to turn away.

She shook her head, her eyes turning once again to the place where it'd all taken place. "No. My mother's father. He had a pistol pointed directly at my father's heart."

Nathan found himself chuckling for the second time that day.

"The gypsies do not care whose land it is, you see. They believe the earth belongs to everyone. My grandfather was determined to hold his ground."

"Your grandfather?" For some reason, he'd not thought of the possibility that she could have gypsy relatives floating around.

She frowned. "Aye. My grandfather. He passed on these five years past."

She lapsed into silence. Nathan found himself wanting the enchanting urchin back.