Lady Blue (9 page)

Harmony’s heart had squeezed as she watched Anthony, intent on memorizing every feature. She would undoubtedly never see him again as long as she lived. The thought constricted her throat.

What a strange day it had been. What a strange man Anthony Allen seemed to be.

There were a good many things Harmony found unusual and incongruous about Anthony Allen. An interest in, and knowledge of horses was one thing. But how had he come to know so much, and care so much, about cattle? Surely that was not the usual area of interest for a common thief. Harmony, however, strongly suspected that Anthony was not merely a common thief.

While pondering her handsome abductor, Harmony realized the darkness had deepened and a crescent moon now rode in the sky. Somewhere in the hills a fox yipped and howled. “It’s getting late. I guess I’d better saddle up the horses.”

“Yes,” Harmony replied dully. “I guess you’d better.” She watched him hold out his hands to her.

His grip was strong and firm and warm. Harmony let him pull her upward. He did not let go of her hands. His expression was sober as he gazed into her eyes.

Harmony didn’t know whether to cry or to give in to the shivering arousal she felt being so close to Anthony. Nor did she know what she wanted. Why did he look at her with such intensity? Not knowing what else to do, Harmony closed her eyes. She was completely unaware of the parting of her lips, or her body straining forward, closer and closer to his. She was aware of nothing until she felt him release her hands and place his palms to her cheeks.

“No,” Anthony groaned. “No, Harmony. It’s wrong. I … can’t …”

But he was too near. Harmony had never felt anything so physically powerful as her attraction to this man. She had never been so aware of every inch of her body, and the secret, private parts of her body. She had never wanted to kiss a man as badly as she wanted to kiss Anthony Allen. She surrendered to her longing.

The touch was searing. They came together not gently, but with all the pent-up passion that had built between them. Anthony’s lips were crushed against hers, his palms pressed flat to her cheeks. Her body became a pillar of fire.

It was over before the fire could consume her. Anthony pulled away almost violently and held her at arm’s length.

“We have to go,” he said hoarsely. “Now.”

In the next instant she was alone and trembling while Anthony saddled the horses. Her heart raced and she could scarcely catch her breath. Her body ached and tingled all at the same time. She felt as if she might faint.

But she did not. Somehow she managed to mount the gray mare, gather the reins, and follow Anthony out of the moonlit valley. As it had been at the inn, Harmony did not look back. She was afraid emotion would overwhelm her, but when they reached the meadow they broke at once into a gallop. She could only concentrate on the ride.

Anthony had told her they were not far from Agatha’s house, and he had been correct. They reached the road, crossed it, and soon reached the dark, familiar silhouette of the forest surrounding Agatha’s home. Harmony’s muscles tensed.

The chestnut mare picked her way through the trees and all too soon they arrived in the clearing. Anthony turned in his saddle.

“This is as far as I go.”

It took a moment for his comment to register. “But … but the money. Don’t you have to go and … and pick it up someplace?”

“Oh, I don’t think so.” Anthony smiled and leaned forward, resting an arm on the mare’s neck. “Let’s just say … the pleasure of your company was enough. But don’t let it get around!” He laughed as he straightened in the saddle and picked up his reins. “I wouldn’t want to ruin my reputation.”

Harmony did not return Anthony’s smile, or respond to his casual good humor. “Why?” she demanded. “Tell me the truth.” Suddenly, it seemed very important.

Anthony hesitated. His grin faded to a soft smile that barely touched the edges of his lips. “Why didn’t you leave last night when you thought I was asleep?”

A wave of emotion moved through her, leaving warmth in its wake. It was a second before she could speak.

“You were awake, then.”

“I wouldn’t have stopped you if you
had
left, you know.”

“You called my name.”

“I never said I didn’t
try
to stop you.”

This time Harmony returned Anthony’s smile, although teardrops quivered at the corners of her eyes.

“Then we’re even,” she said at length, softly.

But Anthony shook his head. “Not quite. I have something I’ve been meaning to return.” He plucked a small object from his breast pocket and held out the sapphire ring. “I don’t think I’ll need this any longer to remind me of the lady with the sapphire eyes. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget her, as a matter of fact.”

Harmony merely stared at the jewel in the palm of Anthony’s hand. She looked up into his eyes.

“No. You keep it. Just to make
darn
sure you never forget.”

She whirled the gray mare around before Anthony could see the tears spilling over, and set off on the now-visible path through the trees. Within moments she had disappeared into the shadows.

A
ll too soon the house loomed into sight. She hardly would have realized it was there, standing darker than the night around it, but for a sliver of light coming from the parlor where the curtains had not been drawn together all the way. Harmony guided the mare to the stone lions and dismounted. She patted the animal’s shoulder and fought back the lump in her throat.

The gray was the last remaining link to Anthony. She knew she had to sever it quickly. With numb fingers she tied the reins to the stirrups.

“Go back to the inn. Find Anthony.” Harmony slapped the animal sharply on the rump. She did not look back as the mare cantered down the road. She took a deep breath, climbed the steps, and tried the door. Not surprised to find it locked, she rapped sharply.

Mrs. Rutledge opened the door. Her eyes widened in surprise. “Miss Simmons! Where—?”

“Never mind where I’ve been.” Harmony brushed past the housekeeper. “Where’s my sister?”

“In the par—” Harmony was already gone.

Agatha sat in her usual chair, a Bible open in her lap. When Harmony entered the room, she looked up with an expression remarkably similar to Mrs. Rutledge’s.

“Harmony! It’s about time you came home. Where have you been?”

Harmony stopped short. “What do you mean, where have I been? I was just released.”

“Released? Released from what?”

“From … from the kidnapper!” Harmony was incredulous.

Agatha made a rude noise. “Kidnapper, my eye.”

Harmony hardly knew what to say. “Well, where … where did you think I was?”

“Hussy!” Agatha spat. “Don’t act innocent with me. I may not know exactly where you were, but I know who you were with!”

“You … you do?”

“You were with that … that …
criminal
… weren’t you?”

In spite of herself, Harmony experienced a wave of guilt. “Yes, but … but he
kidnapped
me!”

“Don’t you dare lie to me, you brazen thing! You had a romantic assignation!”

“Agatha!” Harmony was dumbfounded. “I was

kidnapped, I tell you. Didn’t you get the note?”

“What note? I don’t know anything about a note,” Agatha said in clipped tones.

“The ransom note!”

“Hah!” Livid, Agatha pushed to her feet. Her Bible slipped to the floor, unnoticed. “Ransom note, indeed. You’re nothing but a bitch in heat. I knew it the moment you stepped out of the coach and dared that devil to put his hands on you! You went away with him willingly, that’s what you did! There is no note!”

Stunned, Harmony dropped her gaze. Was it possible there was, indeed, no note? Had Anthony abducted her for another reason altogether and covered it up with the kidnapping story? A curious thrill of hope surged through her veins. And then she noticed the Bible, spine broken, on the floor near Agatha’s feet.

“Oh, no?” Harmony stooped and plucked something that protruded from the Bible’s parchment pages. She scanned it briefly and held it out to her sister. “If there was no ransom note, what do you call this?”

An unbecoming flush crept up Agatha’s neck. She recovered swiftly and straightened her already rigid spine. She snatched the paper from Harmony’s grasp as a cunning smile touched her mouth.

“You expect me to believe that’s a genuine ransom note? My, my, you do underestimate my intelligence, sister dear.”

“What are you talking about?” Harmony breathed.

“I’m talking about your evil ways, Harmony. I know you. And I know that this was probably all your idea. A note to extort money from me so you could finance your elopement with your lover,” she finished smugly.

“Agatha!”

“Don’t ‘Agatha’ me, you little tramp!” the older woman hissed.

“Your notion is insane,” Harmony flared. “I only arrived in England two days ago. Yesterday our coach was held up. I spent the afternoon here in the house with you and Mrs. Rutledge, then—”

“Yes, exactly, and
then,”
Agatha interrupted in a high, shrill voice. “Then you took advantage of Mr. Henry’s presence to sneak out of my house and rendezvous with your—”

“Stop it!” Appalled by her sister’s insane accusations, Harmony stamped her foot angrily.

“How dare you raise your voice to me in my own house?” Agatha demanded. She pushed to her feet and stood nearly nose to nose with Harmony. With one forefinger extended, she poked her sharply in the shoulder.

“And don’t think you’ll ever get away with this kind of stunt again. Life is going to be a great deal different in this house! You’re going to …”

Harmony didn’t wait to hear exactly how her life was going to be different. She already knew. Hands covering her ears, she fled from the parlor to the dark, narrow stairs. She didn’t stop running until she had reached her room and slammed the door behind her. Trembling, she waited for what she knew would come. She didn’t have to wait long.

Angry footsteps trod along the hallway. A key turned in the lock. The prisoner was recaptured, the prison secure once again. Harmony sank to the ground, amid the billowing puddle of her skirts, and wept.

Anemic daylight seeped into the bedroom. Harmony opened her eyes and found herself staring at the ceiling. Sometime during the night she must have picked herself up off the floor and found her way into the bed. She had not even bothered to undress. She closed her eyes again.

Was there a reason to do anything ever again? Harmony wondered. She had descended into hell. She knew she could not survive its fires for three whole years. Agatha was clearly insane, or as close as anyone could get to it without having to be removed from society. Harmony almost wished her time with Anthony
had
been a romantic rendezvous; that she
had
been able to extort money from Agatha; and that she
had
run away with Anthony. Anything, anything at all, was preferable to the life she was faced with now.

Tears tried to squeeze from beneath Harmony’s eyelids. Anthony.

She tried to deny him, to ward off his memory. But it came back, stealing into her heart, constricting her throat. A great sob welled in her chest.

Try as she might, she could not forget their night together, or the following day by the water … and in the water. Despite the tears, a smile tried to pull at the corners of Harmony’s mouth.

She couldn’t deny it; she had never felt closer to anyone. They were so easy together. Conversation was so comfortable and effortless between them, and they seemed to have so much in common. The physical attraction between them was undeniable as well, almost overwhelmingly powerful. The only thing that was difficult to believe was that he was, truly, a criminal.

But he hadn’t taken the ransom money, and he had tried to give back her ring. Did he really have a criminal’s heart? And would she really never see him again? It didn’t seem possible that the only light left in her life had gone out, never to be lit again. It was cruel, too cruel.

The memories, like her tears, were scalding. Harmony tried to banish them both. She couldn’t let Anthony back into her head, into her heart. There was enough heartbreak in her life as it was. The years yawning ahead of her were grim and dismal as they were. She could not add weight to the already too-heavy burden on her shoulders.

And she could not lie in bed all day trying to fend off memories of Anthony.

Stiff and miserable, Harmony edged off the bed. She was opposite the mirror over her dressing table, and when she caught a glimpse of herself, she gasped.

The blue suit she had worn since the day of her arrival in London was torn, dirty, and rumpled. Her hair was snarled, matted, and lusterless. There were purplish bruises beneath her red-rimmed eyes. Arms braced on the dressing table, Harmony leaned closer to get a better look.

Was this what she was going to look like at the end of three years? Was she going to let her sister and her grim, dull life steal away her youth and beauty?

The spirit and determination that had always been the hallmarks of Harmony’s personality struggled upward from wherever they had been in hiding. She threw back her shoulders and lifted her chin.