Everything and the Moon (15 page)

Then she heard the key turn in the lock.

She gasped. The beast had locked her in!

Victoria indulged herself in a quick stamp of her foot, then flopped on her bed with a loud groan. She couldn't believe he had the gall to lock her in her room.

Well, actually, she
could
believe it. The man had abducted her, after all. And Robert never left a detail to chance.

Victoria fumed on her bed for several minutes. If she tried to escape Robert, she would have to do it that evening. Once he got her to his cottage by the sea, she doubted he'd let her out of his sight. And knowing Robert's penchant for privacy, she could safely assume that his cottage was isolated.

No, it would have to be now. Luckily Faversham was not so very far from Bellfield, where her family still lived. Victoria didn't particularly want to visit her father; she had never forgiven him for tying her up all those years ago. But the Reverend definitely seemed a lesser evil than Robert.

Victoria crossed the room to the window and peered out. It was a daunting distance to the ground. There was no way she'd make it without injury. Then her eyes fell on a door, and
not
the one to the hall.

A connecting door. She had a good idea to whose room it connected. How utterly ironic that the only way she would be able to escape was through his room.

She crouched down and squinted at the doorknob. Then she examined the door frame. It looked as if the door might stick. Opening it would be loud, and Robert would probably awaken. If he woke up before she even made it to the hall, she'd never escape. She would have to find a way to leave the connecting door slightly open without raising his suspicion.

Then it came to her.

Victoria took a deep breath and slammed the door open. “I might have known you'd have so little respect for my privacy!” she bellowed. She was aware that she was invading
his
privacy by barging into his room, but it seemed the only way to get the blasted door open without—

She gasped, forgetting whatever it was she'd been thinking about.

Robert was standing in the middle of the room, his chest bared. His hands were on the fastenings of his breeches. “Would you like me to continue?” he said mildly.

“No, no, that won't be necessary,” she stammered, turning seven shades of red, from crimson to beet.

He smiled lazily. “Are you certain? I'd be happy to oblige you.”

Victoria wondered why she couldn't seem to take her eyes off him. He was really quite magnificent, she thought in a bizarre burst of objectivity. His years in London had clearly not been inactive ones.

He took advantage of her dazed silence to hand her a small package.

“What is this?” she asked suspiciously.

“It occurred to me when I was making my plans that you might need something in which to sleep. I took the liberty of procuring you a nightgown.”

The thought of him buying her lingerie was so startlingly intimate that Victoria nearly dropped the package. “Where did you get this?” she asked.

“I didn't get it from another woman, if that is what you want to know.” He stepped forward and touched her cheek. “Although I must say that I'm touched to see you so jealous.”

“I'm not jealous,” she ground out. “It's just that—If you bought it at Madame Lambert's, I should be—”

“I didn't buy it at Madame Lambert's.

“Good. I should be quite angry to find out that one of my friends assisted you in this nefarious endeavor.”

“I wonder how long you'll remain so angry with me,” he said softly.

Victoria's head snapped up at his abrupt change of subject. “I'm going to bed.” She took two steps toward the connecting door, then turned around. “I shan't be modeling this gown for you.”

He offered her a seductive smile. “I never dreamed you would. However I'm quite pleased to hear that you at least contemplated the idea.”

Victoria let out a low growl and stomped back into her room. She was so furious with him that she nearly slammed the door shut. But then, remembering her initial goal, she grasped the knob and closed the door so that it just touched the jamb. If Robert noticed that it was not closed properly, he would not think she had left it open as an invitation. She had made her anger too clear for him to jump to that conclusion. No, he would probably just assume that, in her distraction, she had overlooked a detail.

And if she was lucky he wouldn't notice the door at all.

Victoria tossed the offending package onto her bed and considered her plan for the rest of the night. She would have to wait several hours before attempting her escape. She had no idea how long it would take Robert to fall asleep, and since she had only one chance to flee, it seemed prudent to give him plenty of time to doze off.

She stayed awake by mentally reciting all her least favorite passages from the Bible. Her father had always insisted that she and Ellie commit large portions of the book to memory. An hour passed, then another, then another. Then yet another hour passed, and Victoria halted in midpsalm as she realized that it was four in the morning. Surely Robert was sleeping soundly by now.

She took two tiptoed steps toward the door, then stopped. Her boots had nice hard soles on them and they clattered as she walked. She would have to remove them. Her bones let out a loud creak as she sat on the floor and unlaced her shoes. Finally, footwear in hand, she continued her silent trek toward the connecting door.

Heart pounding, she placed her hand on the knob. Since she hadn't shut the door properly, she didn't have to twist it. She gave it a light tug, and then, with very controlled movements, pulled the door open.

She poked her face into the room first, then breathed a silent sigh of relief. Robert was sleeping soundly. The blasted man didn't appear to be wearing anything under the bed sheets, but Victoria quickly decided not to contemplate that fact just then.

She tiptoed toward his door, mentally thanking whomever it was who had decided to lay a rug in his room. It made her procession all the more quiet. Finally she reached the door. Robert had left the key in the lock. Ah, this would be the trickiest part. She had to get the door unlocked and slip out without waking him.

It occurred to her then that it was actually quite a good thing that Robert slept in the nude. If she did wake him up, she would be able to get quite a good head start while he pulled on his clothing. He might be determined to get her into his clutches, but she rather doubted that his determination extended to running through the streets of Faversham wearing nary a stitch.

She wrapped her fingers around the key and turned her head. The lock made a loud click. She caught her breath and looked over her shoulder. Robert made a sleepy, rumbling sort of noise and rolled over, but other than that he made no sign he was waking up.

With pent up breath, Victoria slowly pulled the door open, praying that the hinges wouldn't creak. It made a tiny noise, causing Robert to move a bit more and smack his lips in a curiously appealing manner. Finally she got the door halfway open and slipped through.

Escape! It was almost too easy; the triumph Victoria had expected to feel just wasn't there. She ran through the hall and made her way down the stairs. No one was on duty, so she was able to slip out the front door unnoticed.

Once out in the open, however, she realized that she had no idea where to go. It was about fifteen miles to Bellfield; not too far to walk when one was really determined, but Victoria didn't particularly relish the thought of walking along the Canterbury Road by herself at night. She would probably do better to find a place to hide near the inn and wait for Robert to depart.

Victoria eyed her surroundings as she put her shoes back on. The stables might do, and there were a few shops nearby that might have places to hide. Perhaps—

“Well, well, wot 'ave we 'ere?”

Victoria's heart sank into her instantly queasy stomach. Two large, dirty, and from the looks of it drunken men were closing in on her. She took a step backward—back toward the inn.

“Oy still got a few pennies left,” one of them said. “Wot's yer price, missy?”

“I'm afraid you have the wrong idea,” Victoria said, her words coming out terribly rushed.

“Come on now, lovey,” the other said, reaching out and grabbing her arm. “We just want a bit of sport. Be a good lovey to us.”

Victoria let out a surprised scream. The man's hand was biting into her skin. “No, no,” she said, panic beginning to set in. “I'm not that kind of—” She didn't bother to finish the sentence; they didn't seem to be paying attention.

“I am a married woman,” she lied, using a louder tone of voice.

One of them actually tore his eyes off her breasts for a moment and looked up. He blinked, then shook his head.

Victoria sucked in her breath. They obviously had no scruples concerning the sanctity of marriage. Finally, out of desperation, she burst out, “My husband is the earl of Macclesfield! If you touch a hair on my head, he'll have you killed. I swear he will.”

That gave them pause. Then one of them said, “Wot's the wife of a bloody earl doing out by 'erself in the middle of the night?”

“It's a very long story, I assure you,” Victoria improvised, still backing up toward the inn.

“I think she's making it up,” the one holding her arm said. He yanked her closer to him with a movement surprisingly fast for one so inebriated. Victoria tried not to gag at his foul breath. Then she changed her mind and tried
to
gag. Vomit might be just the thing to dampen his ardor.

“We're just going to 'ave a bit of fun tonight,” he whispered. “You and me and—”

“I wouldn't try it,” drawled a voice Victoria knew all too well. “I don't like it when people touch my wife.”

She looked up. Robert was standing next to the man—where had he come from so quickly?—and had a gun pressed up against his temple. He wasn't wearing a shirt, he wasn't even wearing shoes, and he had another gun tucked into the waistband of his breeches. He looked at the drunkard, smiled humorlessly, and said, “She makes me a bit irrational.”

“Robert,” Victoria said in a shaky voice, for once desperately glad to see him.

He jerked his head to the side, indicating for her to move into the doorway to the inn. She did so immediately.

“I'm going to start counting,” Robert said in a deadly voice. “If the two of you aren't out of my sight by the time I get to ten, I'm going to shoot. And I won't aim for your feet.”

The villains started to run before Robert even got to two. He counted all the way to ten, anyway. Victoria watched him from the doorway, tempted to run back up to her room and barricade herself inside while he ticked off the numbers. But she found herself rooted to the spot, quite unable to take her eyes off Robert.

When he was done he whirled around. “I suggest you don't provoke my temper any further this evening,” he bit off.

She nodded. “No, I'll just be going to sleep. We can discuss this in the morning, if you like.”

He didn't say anything, just let out a low growl as they mounted the steps back up to their chambers. Victoria wasn't particularly heartened by this reaction.

They reached his door, which had clearly been flung open in haste. Robert practically dragged her through the doorway and slammed the door shut. He let go of her to twist the key in the lock, and Victoria took advantage of this opportunity to run to the connecting door. “I'll just be going to bed,” she said quickly.

“Not so fast.” Robert's hand closed around her upper arm and he reeled her back in. “Do you really think I'm going to allow you to spend the rest of the night in there?”

She blinked. “Well, yes. I rather thought you were.”

He smiled, but it was a dangerous sort of smile. “Wrong.”

She thought her knees might give out. “Wrong?”

Before she knew what he was about, he'd scooped her up in his arms and dropped her on the bed. “You, my devious friend, are spending the night here. In my bed.”

Y
ou're insane,” Victoria said, jumping off the bed with amazing speed.

He advanced on her with slow, menacing steps. “If I'm not, I'm damned close to it now.”

That didn't reassure her. She took a few steps back, realizing with a sinking stomach that she was nearly to the wall. Escape did not look likely.

“Did I mention how much I enjoyed hearing you refer to me as your husband?” he asked in a deceptively lazy voice.

Victoria knew that tone. It meant he was furious and keeping it all inside. If she had been in a calmer and more reasonable frame of mind, she probably would have kept her mouth shut and done nothing to provoke his temper. But she was sufficiently concerned for her own welfare and virtue, so she snapped, “It's the last time you will ever hear it.”

“Pity, that.”

“Robert,” she said in what she hoped was a gentling tone. “You have every right to be angry…”

He laughed at that. Laughed! Victoria was not amused.

“Angry does not begin to describe it,” he said. “Allow me to tell you a story.”

“Don't be facetious.”

He ignored her. “I was sleeping in my bed, enjoying a particularly vivid dream…You were in it.”

Victoria's cheeks flamed.

He smiled humorlessly. “I believe I had one hand in your hair, and your lips were…Hmmm, how do I describe it?”

“Robert, that's
enough
!” Victoria began to shake. Robert wasn't the sort to embarrass a lady by speaking to her in such terms. He must be far, far angrier than she'd dreamed.

“Now where was I?” he mused. “Ah, yes. My dream. Imagine, if you will, my distress when I was awakened from such delightful slumber by screams.” He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing furiously. “
Your
screams.”

Victoria couldn't think of anything to say. Well, that was not entirely true. She thought of several hundred things to say, but half of them were inappropriate and half were downright dangerous to her well-being.

“I have never before pulled on my breeches with such speed, do you know that?”

“I'm sure it will prove a useful talent,” she improvised.

“And I have splinters in my feet,” he added. “These floors were not meant to be traversed unshod.”

She tried to smile, but found that her bravado was sadly lacking. “I'd be happy to see to your injuries.”

His hands descended upon her shoulders in a blindingly fast movement. “I wasn't walking, Victoria. I was running. I was running as if it were to save my own life. Except it wasn't.” He leaned forward, his eyes glittering furiously. “I was desperate to save yours.”

Her throat convulsed in a nervous swallow. What did he want her to say? Finally she opened her mouth and out tumbled, “Thank you?” It was more of a question than a statement.

He let go of her abruptly and turned away, clearly disgusted by her reaction. “Oh, for the love of Christ,” he muttered.

Victoria fought against a choking feeling in the back of her throat. How had her life descended to this? She was dangerously close to tears, but she refused to cry in front of this man. He had broken her heart twice, pestered her for a week, and now he'd abducted her. Surely she was allowed a small measure of pride. “I want to go back to my own bed,” she said, her voice small.

He didn't bother to turn around when he replied, “I already told you that I will not allow you to return to that hellhole in London.”

“I meant in the next room.”

There was a long silence. “I want you here,” he finally said.

“Here?” she squeaked.

“I believe I have already said as much on two occasions.”

She decided to try another tactic and appeal to his deep sense of honor. “Robert, I know you are not the sort to take a woman against her will.”

“It isn't that,” he said with a disgusted scoff.“I don't trust you to stay put.”

Victoria swallowed the stinging retort that formed on her lips. “I promise I shan't try to escape again this evening. I give you my most solemn vow.”

“Pardon me if I'm not inclined to take you at your word.”

That stung, and Victoria recalled the time she had snorted with disdain when he'd said he had never broken a promise to her. It was remarkable how unpleasant it was to receive a taste of one's own medicine. She grimaced. “I didn't promise not to try to escape before. I am doing so now.”

He turned and stared at her with incredulous eyes. “You, my lady, should have been a politician.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Merely that you possess a stunning ability to use words to dance around the truth.”

Victoria laughed. She couldn't help it. “And what exactly is the truth?”

He stepped forward purposefully. “You need me.”

“Oh,
please
.”

“You do. You need me in every way a woman needs a man.”

“Don't say anything more, Robert. I would hate to be driven to violence.”

He chuckled at her sarcasm. “Love, companionship, affection. You need all of that. Why do you think you were so miserable as a governess? You were alone”.

“I could get a dog. A spaniel would be more intelligent company than you.”

He laughed again. “Just look how quick you were to claim me as your husband tonight. You could have made up a name, but no, you chose me.”

“I was using you,” she spat out. “Using you and your name to protect myself. That is all!”

“Ah, but even that wasn't enough, was it, my sweet?”

Victoria didn't particularly like the way he said “my sweet.”

“You needed the man, too. Those men didn't believe you until I arrived on the scene.”

“Thank you ever so much,” she ground out, not sounding particularly gracious. “You do have a flair for rescuing me from unpleasant situations.”

He smirked. “Ah, yes, I am ever useful.”

“Unpleasant situations that
you
cause,” she shot back.

“Really?” he said, his voice dripping sarcasm.

“I suppose that I rose out of bed—in my sleep, no less—dragged you from your room, pushed you down the stairs, and then left you in front of the inn to be accosted by two pox-ridden drunkards.”

She pursed her lips in a prim expression. “Robert, you are behaving in a most unbecoming manner.”

“Ah, the governess returns.”

“You abducted me!” she nearly shrieked, completely losing hold of her temper. “You kidnapped me! If you had left me alone, as I have repeatedly asked you to, I would have been safe and sound in my own bed.”

He stepped forward and jabbed her in the shoulder. “Safe and sound?” he repeated. “In your neighborhood? A bit of a contradiction of terms, I think.”

“Ah, yes, and you magnanimously took it upon yourself to rescue me from my foolishness.”

“Someone had to.”

Her hand shot out to slap his cheek, but he caught her wrist easily. Victoria wrenched it from his grasp. “How dare you,” she hissed. “How dare you condescend to me? You say you love me, but you treat me like a child. You—”

He cut her off by clamping his hand down on her mouth. “You'll say something you regret.”

She stomped on his foot. Hard. He was trying to tell her what she wanted again, and she hated him for that.

“That is it!” he roared. “I have shown the patience of Job with you! I deserve a goddamn sainthood!” Before Victoria had a chance to react to his use of “goddamn” and “sainthood” in the same sentence, Robert picked her up and tossed her effortlessly onto the bed.

Victoria's mouth fell open. Then she started to slither off the mattress. Robert caught her ankle, though, and held firm. “Let go of me,” she ground out, grabbing the far end of the bed with her hands and trying to pull herself from his grasp. She wasn't successful. “Robert, if you do not let go of my ankle…”

The lout actually had the nerve to laugh. “What will you do, Victoria? Do tell.”

Seething with frustration and anger, Victoria stopped pulling and instead used her other foot to kick him soundly in the chest. Robert let out a grunt of pain and released his grip on her ankle, but before Victoria could scramble off the bed, he was on top of her, his weight pinning her against the mattress.

And he looked furious.

“Robert,” she began, trying to use a conciliatory tone.

He stared down at her, his eyes burning with something that wasn't quite desire, although there was a good deal of that, too. “Do you have any idea how I felt when I saw those two men pawing at you?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

Mutely she shook her head.

“I felt rage,” he said, his grip on her upper arms loosening into what could only be called a caress. “It was primitive, and it was hot, and it was pure.”

Victoria's eyes widened.

“Rage that they should touch you. Rage that they should frighten you.”

Her mouth went dry, and she realized that she was having a hard time taking her eyes off his lips.

“Do you know what else I felt?”

“No,” she replied, her voice merely a whisper.

“Fear.”

She brought her eyes up to his. “But you knew that I hadn't been injured.”

He let out a hollow chuckle. “Not that, Torie. Fear that you're going to keep on running, that you will never admit what you feel for me. Fear that you'll always hate me so much that you'll run into danger to avoid me.”

“I don't hate you.” The words slipped out before she realized that she had just contradicted everything she'd told him in the last twelve hours.

He touched her hair, then cradled her head with his strong hands. “Then why, Victoria?” he whispered. “Why?”

“I don't know. I wish I did. I just know that I can't be with you right now.”

His head lowered until they were nose to nose. Then his lips brushed up against hers, feather light and startlingly erotic. “Now? Or ever?”

She didn't answer. She couldn't answer, for his mouth had already taken fierce possession of hers. His tongue swooped into her mouth, tasting her with palpable hunger. His hips pressed gently into hers, reminding her of his desire. His hand ran up the length of her body and settled onto the curve of her breast. He kneaded and squeezed, the heat of his skin burning through the material of her dress. Victoria felt herself peaking beneath his touch.

“Do you know what I feel right now?” he whispered roughly.

She didn't answer.

“Desire.” His eyes gleamed. “I want you, Victoria. I want to finally make you mine.”

In a panic, Victoria realized that he was leaving the decision up to her. How easy it would be to let herself be swept up in the heat of the moment. How convenient to be able to tell herself the next day,
Passion made me do it; I wasn't thinking clearly
.

But Robert was forcing her to confront her feelings and to admit to the overwhelming desire that was racing through her body.

“You said you wanted to make your own decisions,” he whispered into her ear. His tongue delicately traced its outline. “I won't make this one for you.”

She let out a frustrated moan.

Robert trailed his hands down the length of her body, pausing ever so slightly at her gently rounded hips. He squeezed, and Victoria could feel the imprint of each and every one of his fingertips.

His lips curved into a masculine smile. “Perhaps I should help you clarify the issue,” he said, touching his lips to the delicate skin of her neck. “Do you want me?”

She said nothing, but her body was arching up against his, her hips straining for him.

He slid his hands under her skirt and moved up her legs until they reached the warm skin at the tops of her stockings. One finger dipped beneath the edge, drawing lazy circles on her bare skin. “Do you want me?” he repeated.

“No,” she whispered.

“No?” He moved his lips back up to her ear and softly nibbled. “Are you certain?”

“No.”

“No, you're not certain or no, you don't want me?”

She let out a frustrated moan. “I don't know.”

He contemplated her for a long moment, looking very much as if he wanted to crush her to him. His face was hungry, and his eyes burned in the candlelight. But in the end all he did was roll off her. He got to his feet and crossed the room, the evidence of his desire making his breeches tight. “I won't make this decision for you,” he repeated.

Victoria sat up, utterly dazed. Her body was shaking with need, and in that moment she hated him for giving her the one thing she'd been asking for all along—control.

Robert stopped before the window and leaned on the sill. “Make your decision,” he said in a low voice.

The only sound she made was a strangled cry.

“
Make it
!”

“I-I don't know,” she said, her words sounding lame and pathetic even to her own ears.

He whirled around. “Then get the hell out of my sight.”

She flinched.

Robert strode to the bed and yanked her by the arm. “Tell me yes or tell me no,” he bit out, “but don't demand that I give you a choice and then not make one.”

Victoria was too startled to react, and before she knew it she had been pushed back into her own room, the connecting door slammed shut between them. She gasped for air, unable to believe how miserable and rejected she felt just then. God, she was such a hypocrite! Robert's words had cut to the quick. She had asked him over and over not to try to control her life, but when he finally put a decision into her hands, she was unable to act.

She sat on the bed for several minutes until her eyes fell on the package she'd so carelessly thrown aside several hours earlier. It seemed a lifetime had passed since then. What, she wondered with a shaky laugh, was Robert's idea of appropriate nightwear?

She untied the strings holding the box together and lifted the lid. Even in the dim light of her single candle, she could see that the lingerie was made of the finest silk. With careful fingers Victoria lifted the garment out of the box.