Kiss the Earl (7 page)

She didn't have long to wonder, though, because the earl threw open the door only sixty seconds later. She was still pulling on her stockings over her bandaged feet when he appeared in the doorway, his eyes wide and kind of panicked.

“What's wrong?”

Glancing into the hallway behind him, Patrick swiftly closed the door. “You were right,” he hissed as he grabbed his neckcloth. “Those are the baron's men, and they are looking for me. They were in the taproom, and one of them saw me. I do not know if he recognized me, but we must away, and quickly.”

“Oh, crap,” Ella said, all the blood draining from her cheeks.

“Indeed,” Patrick said dryly. “Please don your boots. We'll need to climb out the window.”

Biting her lip against the discomfort, Ella did as Patrick asked. Damn her feet, and damn the baron. This wasn't going to be fun.

“Oh, holy crap. This is way too high.”

“If you would hold on to the window frame as I suggested—”

“It's too awkward to grip there. I can't get my hand around it.”

“Then what do you suggest?”

“Taking the elevator?”

“What?”

“No elevator. Walking out through the front door?”

“Then you shall be left quite alone here at this inn, and I doubt the pile of coins I left would cover your extended stay. Besides, I am on the ground already, awaiting your descent with bated breath.”

And a good bit of irritation, if Patrick were honest with himself. He stood with his hands on his hips, looking at the upper window of the Hart and Dove. Fortunately, their room was on the back side of the inn, and a small rise made the second-floor drop not quite so dire. Patrick had managed to climb down easily, but as he looked up at Ella's boots kicking feebly as she slid backward from the window, he wasn't sure if she would have the same luck. If he tried, he was sure he could see up her skirts.

Damn his honorable hide. He averted his gaze and glanced toward the stables. “If you could try to hasten your descent, all the searchers seem to have gone into the taproom. Now would be an excellent time for us to depart.”

He heard a grumble from above, something that sounded suspiciously like a threat to jump down on his big fat head. Patrick fought the curl of his mouth as he looked up at her.

“I have you. Let yourself down slowly.”

“I can't. I'm afraid of heights and my arms are stretched as far as they can go.”

He blew out an exasperated breath. “Then grip the bricks on the outside of the window. They held my weight; they will surely hold yours. Trust me.”

“Um, okay.”

Patrick stole another glance toward the stables as a horse whinnied. He'd arranged for a carriage to be waiting for him and Amelia to take them to Gretna Green. He and Miss Briley would simply have to use it to locate his friend instead. Patrick shook his head. Of all the harebrained schemes for him to have agreed to—

“Oof!”

He blinked up at the gray clouds for several seconds not realizing why, exactly, they seemed to be spinning around like trained monkeys at Astley's. A warm, soft weight was pressing him down into the earth, and when he could open his eyes, he looked down.

A pair of very shapely legs seemed to be straddling his torso, blue gown racked up much higher than was decent. A groan came from somewhere near his knees.

“I told you it was too high, Patrick.”

His voice was more grunt than anything else. “So you did. Are you hurt?”

“Just kind of winded. You broke my fall.”

“Excellent.”

He really shouldn't take advantage of the view their indelicate position afforded him, not as a gentleman. But really, what could he do? Not a damned thing until she clambered off him, which she finally did, hobbling on her apparently still-painful feet.

“Are you okay?”

He rose, knocking as much dirt as possible off his clothing. “I am uninjured. Do not worry.”

“Sorry about that. I slipped.”

“No matter.” And it didn't matter. Not really. He was fine, she was fine, and now they must depart before someone noticed.

Patrick pulled his father's gold watch from his waistcoat pocket and flipped it open. The stones surrounding the face caught every weak beam of light, making the jewels gleam. Half seven. They must make haste.

“Nice watch,” Ella said in a dry tone. “Did you BeDazzle it yourself?”

“I beg your pardon?”

She shook her head as he tucked it away.

“Come with me. We must hurry.”

She slipped her hand into his as they hurried toward the stables. He started to pull away, but before he could, he glanced at the bright-blue paint on her fingernails and remembered.

He could not abandon her. If her story was true, she'd come into contact with a force that he remembered all too well. She needed comfort, more than likely, and it was his responsibility.

So, for that reason, he laced his fingers through hers and kept her close to his side as they rounded the back of the large stable where the carriages were kept.

“Damn,” Patrick swore in a low whisper as he ducked back behind the corner, praying he hadn't been seen.

“What is it?” Ella's whisper was much too close to his ear.

“There's a man watching the coach. One of Brownstone's. We won't be able to use it.”

“Then how are we going to get out of here?” Her eyes were wide, worried. For some reason, he longed to reach out, touch her cheek, comfort her.

He didn't.

“Come on. We'll hire horses. It will be much faster, in any case.”

“Hor-ses?”

He left her alone on the side of the stables as he conducted a hushed conversation with the stable lad. He had to pay quite a bit to ensure the man's silence on the matter, and a good bit more to hasten his movements. But the man was as good as his word, and within minutes he had two horses saddled and waiting.

Patrick went around the corner to fetch Miss Briley, but before he could leave the safety of the stables, raucous voices met his ear. Flattening himself against the stable wall, Patrick listened.

“Remember, Miss Brownstone may be in the company of a man, possibly a peer. The baron doesn't want him harmed—”

Thanks
be
to
God
.

“—he wishes to punish the man himself. Is that clear?”

The rousing shouts did nothing to raise Patrick's spirits. He edged closer to the stable door, hoping against hope that Ella would stay out of sight. She seemed of clear enough thought not to walk straight into danger, but he didn't really know her well, after all. Their best course of action would be to leave, and quickly. As the men's voices mingled together, planning the routes they would take and their rendezvous points, Patrick took advantage of their distraction and led the horses around the corner.

Ella was crouched behind a bale of hay, her hair loose around her shoulders, looking like a silky black waterfall. She really should do something about it. The way it cascaded around her made his fingers itch to tangle in its silky, dark length. And those purple streaks peeking between the strands were quite extraordinary. He wondered how she'd done them.

“Come,” Patrick hissed, tossing the reins over the hitching ring on the wall. “We must leave now.”

“What is that?” Ella shoved herself to her feet and pointed to the smaller horse's saddle.

“It's a sidesaddle. Don't tell me you've never…”

A crook of her brow was her only reply.

“I do not have time for this,” Patrick muttered as he stalked over to her. She squeaked as he carried her to the mounting block and deposited her straight onto the horse, but he paid no attention. With a quick lesson on how to hitch her knee over the pommel and grip the reins, he then turned and mounted his own stallion.

He turned to Ella, about to speak, but a sudden male voice behind them cut him short.

“Wait a moment. Who are you?”

“Gee-up!”

With a slap of the reins, Patrick kicked his horse into motion. Fortunately, he had the presence of mind to reach over and yank the reins from Ella, pulling her mount alongside his.

He glanced over at her as they thundered from the stable yard. Poor girl. Her eyes were wide with panic, her gown streaming out behind her as she held on for dear life.

Had she never even ridden a horse before? This was indeed a problem. Of all the girls in London, why had he taken her?

* * *

Ella's fingers tangled wildly in the horse's dark mane, and her ass bounced hard against the unforgiving saddle as she and Patrick hurtled down the road. She kept her teeth clamped tight together, both from nerves and from the fear they'd be shaken right out of her head. Patrick, bent low over his horse's neck, looked like a jockey as he guided both his and Ella's mounts away from the inn.

“Yah!” Patrick's yell spurred the horses faster as he turned them down the left fork of the road.

The quick turn had Ella sliding in the saddle. Her heart leapt into her throat as the mane slipped through her fingers. She was going to fall.

“Help!”

Her squeak of alarm was interrupted when Patrick's arm shot out, steadying her before she could tumble from the saddle.

“Grip the horn with your knee and lock your left foot into the slipper stirrup!”

Ella did as he said, wincing with pain as her bandaged, booted foot pressed down against the stirrup. Ugh, that splinter! She was going to be paying for that one for a while. But with any luck, Patrick's first aid would save her from any serious infection.

The horses were still running fast, but Ella was a little more secure in her seat. She glanced back over her shoulder. The inn was now a much smaller version of itself, distance shrinking it dramatically. But even with the pounding hooves, angry shouts still echoed off in the distance.

“I think they're following us,” Ella called over to Patrick.

His mouth was set in a grim line. “I know.”

Ella looked forward, wishing she could take the time to enjoy this. Her heart was thumping hard with excitement, and her hair flew out behind her, whipping with their speed. The English countryside sped by, thick greenery and ancient trees spread across sun-dappled meadows and rolling hills. A handsome man held the reins to her horse, and they were riding hell-for-leather from their pursuers.

Ella grinned. She'd always wanted to do something “hell-for-leather.” Somehow video games didn't quite echo this kind of excitement.

“There's a small stream over here, through the woods. We can ride through the water until we are closer to the east road.” Patrick's voice was serious as he slowed their horses enough to turn them off the road and onto a narrow, barely defined trail.

“Won't they see us?”

“They're on the other side of that rise. It took them a while to saddle their mounts. We will be out of sight as soon as we enter this stand of trees, in any case.”

Ella ducked to avoid a low-hanging branch. The horses had slowed to a walk, their necks damp with sweat as they picked their way through scrubby brush. Patrick tossed Ella the reins, and she jumped, startled.

“What am I supposed to do with these? I don't think I'm qualified to drive this thing.”

Patrick cleared his throat in annoyance. “Keep your horse close to mine. She should follow.”

The low gurgle of water met Ella's ears, and she peered through the trees ahead. A narrow shaft of sunlight reflected off the surface of the water, throwing sparkling drops of light onto the opposite bank. She closed her eyes for a second.

The air smelled clean here. Not that it smelled bad at home, but here things smelled damp and green and fresh, somehow. New. Ella opened her eyes and gently pulled the reins left to make her horse follow Patrick's through a gap in the trees. To her shock, it worked. Her horse obediently turned, following the earl.

“Yes,” Ella hissed in victory. “Score one for Briley!”

“What?” Patrick's bemused question made her cheeks fire. She was really glad he was in front of her and missed her blush.

“Nothing,” she mumbled. Fortunately for her, it was easy to forget her momentary lapse of pride. “Hey, what are you doing? Are you supposed to ride horses in water? How deep is this stream, anyway?”

Patrick's horse had splashed into the water and was plodding deeper into the current.

“Not to worry. It remains fairly shallow until closer to Edmonton. Ride close to the left bank and all will be well.”

Ella eyed the water splashing against Patrick's boot. “Doesn't look that shallow to me.”

As her own mount fell in behind Patrick's, Ella couldn't help but notice how straight the earl's back was, how his broad shoulders filled out his tailored jacket, how the saddle so nicely framed his…assets.

Ella coughed. She had to keep her brain in the game.
Focus. Treat this like a problem to be solved. Strategize, like Admiral Action facing a supervillain, someone like the Diamond Dame.
Ella bit her lip. Well, maybe not her. The infamous Double D and the admiral had an on-and-off physical relationship, so that idea wasn't really that helpfu—

“Miss Briley, watch out!”

Patrick's shout came a split second before Ella's horse stumbled into the deeper water of the right side of the stream. Panic flooded Ella, and she grabbed the pommel as hard as she could, but the damage was done. Water splashed in her face and against her gown, running down into her boots, soaking her through. She gasped in shock, water dripping from the end of her nose.

The water was freezing.

Patrick turned his horse to draw alongside her, and somehow without laughing, he offered her his handkerchief.

Without a single scrap of grace or gratitude, Ella yanked the embroidered white fabric from his hand and dried her face.

“You did not keep your mount to the left side of the stream,” Patrick observed in a mild tone, the corners of his mouth curling upward in barely restrained mirth.

“Nope.” Ella bit out the answer, wringing out his handkerchief. “Guess not.”

His gaze lowered slightly, and his eyes darkened. What? Ella followed his glance down.

“Jesus Christ!”

Her nipples were so hard they were practically poking holes in the thin fabric of her dress. Of all the nights to not wear a bra, why had she picked yesterday? She dropped the reins like they were smoking and crossed her arms tightly over her chest.

“Do you mind?” she snapped.

“Not at all,” he said quite boldly, a devilish smile curling his lips, but he looked away politely.

“Jerk,” she muttered, grabbing the reins one-handed and keeping the other arm across her chest. “Let's go.”

“The left side of the stream,” he said as he turned his horse.