Malia Martin (2 page)

Gravesly

“T
he Most Delectable Man in England hunting the Most Wanted Man in England. How catching,” Lady Prudence Farnsworth whispered as she peeked around the heavy drapes of the library.

“Do
not
say that word.”

Pru glanced over her shoulder at her butler. “Which word? Delectable?”

“No, catch.”

Pru laughed softly and glanced back out the window. “Clifton, dear, you do worry too much.”

She could actually feel the man’s scowl.

“He’s come on horseback,” she said as she watched the tall man in mud-spattered military dress dismount. “Impressive,” she murmured.

“Hmmph.”

Pru let the heavy drapes slide from her grasp. “I meant, ’tis impressive that he came the entire way on horseback. Most of the men they send come in coaches, then spend their time here with their doors closed praying for their lives. This one comes with no outriders, a target for all on the back of a horse.”

“Captain Ashley is not most men,” Clifton said darkly.

“No, Captain Ashley is not most men. He’s a famous military hero.” Pru grinned at her mammoth butler. “We’ve seen them before, but we’ve seen their backs more often.”

The military hero’s knock sounded at the door.

“His pride’s been pricked, this one’s has. He’s out for blood, and it’s careful we need to be.”

Pru pulled her shoulders back and smoothed her palms along the skirt of her gown. “We’ll follow our plan, and all will go well.” She nodded toward the hall. “Now, go let the good captain in. I shall meet with him in the drawing room,” she said to Clifton, and whisked herself across the corridor.

“I still say we should make him live in the rooms above Harker’s Inn,” Clifton grumbled as he stomped toward the front door.

Pru, of course, knew that it would never do to have the captain living at Harker’s Inn. She had immediately offered lodging when she had found out that Captain James Ashley was on his way back to Gravesly.

It was the least she could do out of purely civic pride.

Pru heard the creak of the front-door hinges and jumped the last few steps into the drawing room. The low rumble of a very male voice echoed down the hall behind her, and it caused a strange flutter in the depths of Pru’s stomach.

The captain was terribly masculine, the low timbre of his voice and strong silhouette attesting to this fact. It made her anxious.

With a quick shake of her head, Pru picked up her embroidery and settled herself on an elegantly shabby settee. Her hand shook a bit as she slipped her needle through the stretched material of a small pinafore she was working on.

Little Emily Sawyer, the baker’s daughter, had grown out of the last one she had made—it now adorned Emily’s little sister—and so Pru was making her another.

“My lady.”

Pru jumped at Clifton’s formal address and glanced up. Her butler gave her a piercing look out of his one good eye, then continued, “Captain James Ashley, my lady.”

Setting her embroidery aside, Prudence rose calmly, smiled at her butler as he shifted his bulky frame so that she could welcome their visitor, then faltered.

If she had thought the man’s voice and stature to be masculine, it was nothing in the face of his swarthy skin, square jaw, and deep-set eyes the color of a stormy sea. He was even taller than she had thought, standing nearly eye to eye with dearest Clifton. His red coat and white breeches were spattered with mud, his dark hair windblown, but he still cut quite a figure.

The Most Delectable Man in England, indeed.

He stepped toward her, and Prudence realized that she surely had been standing there with her mouth hanging open. “Captain Ashley,” she forced herself to say, “how very good to have you.”

“How very good of you to invite me to stay with you, Lady Farnsworth.” He took her hand and bowed over it. He had his gloves on, of course, but she could still tell that his fingers were long, his hand large and strong.

She had forgotten to put on her own gloves. They didn’t stand much on formality at Chesley House, and she had always hated gloves. She stared for a moment at her own small hand encompassed by the captain’s much larger one.

“But, of course, Captain,” she said quickly, blinking back up to meet his gaze and withdrawing her hand. “When I heard that Gravesly would be getting such a courageous and intelligent officer to help rid us of smugglers, well …” She pressed her hand to her breast and smiled. “Of course, I offered my home for your convenience. I do try to be a boon to my community.”

“That is quite admirable, Lady Farnsworth.”

Her fingers, the same fingers the tall Captain Ashley had just held, were trembling. With a slight frown, Pru curled her hand into a fist and pressed it tightly against her side. Surely she was not nervous. It had been rather a long time since she had experienced an attack of nerves.

Of course she was not nervous.

“Yes, well,” she said finally, her voice sounding faintly panicky to her own ears. Pru stopped and cleared her throat. The captain had a very commanding presence, she realized, and she was certainly not used to being commanded. Pru stood a little straighter and tried to look as daunting as possible.

“I am sure you would like to freshen up from your journey.” She glanced at Clifton, who had one bushy eyebrow bunched in a frown, as he glared at the captain.

“Clifton!” she rebutted the man without thinking. At her sharp tone, both men jumped. Pru wanted to groan at her lack of subtlety. What on earth was the matter with her?

“Clifton,” she said sweetly, “will take you to your room.” She glared meaningfully at her butler and tipped her head slightly toward the doorway.

Clifton’s jaw was set at the stubborn angle Pru knew only too well, and she would not have put it past the man to tell the captain to show himself right out the door. “Or, actually,” she said quickly, rushing forward and hooking her arm through the captain’s, “I can show you easily enough.” She could feel the heat of the captain’s arm through his red coat, and she suddenly regretted her rash action, for now she would have to crowd through the doorway on Captain Ashley’s arm.

That doorway loomed in front of her, looking very much smaller than it ever had before.

“Do bring the captain’s things, Clifton,” Pru demanded, saying a quick prayer that Clifton would remember that he was a servant.

The doorway.

Pru swallowed tightly, the warmth of the captain’s body quite pronounced along her side. She couldn’t remember ever being this close to a man so tall or warm, or masculine before. There was Clifton, of course; he was very tall. But she surely could not remember thinking that he was warm, or even noticing the timbre of his voice.

Lord, how did the women in society get through their days always being pushed into close situations with such gentlemen as the captain?

“I must admit Chesley House is rather small,” she said, as they stepped toward that tiny doorway. “B-but I have had a room made up for you, and I am sure that you will find it comfortable.”

The captain’s hand covered hers, and the contact sent a shiver of some kind of unidentifiable feeling right through Pru’s arm and into her chest. Her heart did a strange double beat. Well, fine, she was just going to drop at the man’s feet, it seemed, in a fit of apoplexy. At least that would calm her sudden attack of nerves.

Pru frowned at that thought. She
was
having an attack of nerves. How terribly … civilian of her.

The captain gripped her hand, peeled it from his arm, and guided her through the doorway ahead of him. “After you,” he said softly.

Pru took a deep breath. Oh, yes, of course. They wouldn’t attempt to navigate the narrow opening together. Silly woman, Pru chided herself, and stepped out into the hall.

Chesley House was truly only a cottage, nothing as elegant as its name would lead one to believe. And Captain Ashley actually had to turn a bit and stoop forward to get his large frame out into the hall. The baron, her husband, had never had to manipulate his body to get around Chesley House.

The captain cleared his throat, and Pru blinked up at him. He smiled slightly, showing a row of straight white teeth and dimples that dented his narrow cheeks just under the high rise of his cheekbones. The man was too handsome by half. And dangerously masculine.

“Yes, well,” Pru said for no good reason at all, and then, realizing that the captain had let go of her hand, and that they stood staring dumbly at each other, she turned crisply and started off at a good clip for the stairway. It probably looked from behind as if she were running away. And, in truth, she was doing just that.

Worrying her bottom lip, Pru led the way up the stairs toward the captain’s room. Goodness, the man was not at all what she had expected, she thought.

Of course she knew of his exploits, that he was thought a hero to God and country, at least until he had lost his ship a month ago after confronting the Wolf.

Still, she had not expected Captain James Ashley to have disturbingly intelligent eyes, or such a command to his presence, or to be so … well—she dared a furtive glance over her shoulder only to look right into Captain Ashley’s stormy gray eyes.

She faltered as they stared at each other, and then, tightening her grip on the skirt of her gown, she turned and continued quickly up the staircase.

She just had not expected him to be so incredibly masculine.

Lady Prudence Farnsworth was not at all as he had pictured her in his mind, James thought, as he watched her unpadded bum sway before him.

This was no doddering old widow he would be staying with, but a young woman, not even in her thirties if he guessed right.

A young woman with golden hair and the softest brown eyes he had ever seen. They had immediately set him to thinking of a mink’s pelt he had once handled.

When he had first entered the drawing room, he had to admit, his gaze had gone from her wide mouth, to her incredibly small waist, and straight to her very nicely curved bosom. Basically, Lady Prudence Farnsworth was intensely feminine.

But, of course, he had been around beautiful women before.

He had just never had to live with one.

James watched her as she reached the top of the staircase and scooted down the hall as if there were sharks snapping at her heels. Lady Farnsworth stopped before a tiny doorway, hesitated, then pushed the wooden portal open. She stood very straight and gestured into the room.

He smiled slightly as he brushed past her, and noticed once more the light feminine scent of Lady Farnsworth. It was not any cloying perfume or bath soap, but rather an airy scent like that of an ocean breeze with a touch of lavender. He liked it.

James frowned fiercely at this thought, for he should be concentrating on the duty before him and not the scent of a woman. It had been a very long time since James Ashley had been diverted by emotions of the heart or weaknesses of the flesh, and it had only had to happen once. He had learned a valuable lesson.

With a shake of his head, James turned his thoughts to what he wanted to accomplish in Gravesly.

His superiors had given him only a month, since this was technically not his job. He was a captain in the navy, but of course he had no ship to command and thus was doomed to work behind a desk. But he had proposed that he be allowed to go out and bring down the Wolf.

The notorious criminal was quite a thorn in the side of England, so James was given the permission he needed to try and salvage his dignity by bringing to justice the man who had sunk one of His Majesty’s royal ships.

He just had not been given a whole lot of time to accomplish his task, and so he had to stay focused. Now, James glanced around the small room. He gave a sigh at the thought of sleeping on the tiny bed, and went to push aside the lacy curtains.

He had noticed as he rode up to Chesley House that Lady Farnsworth’s home had a lovely view of the town below and the sea beyond. Unfortunately, the lady had put him in a room that afforded him only a sliver of a view of the woods behind the house.

“I hate to seem unappreciative, Lady Farnsworth,” he said as he surveyed the dense woods. “But you would not happen to have a room toward the front of the house?”