Rebel Marquess (8 page)

“Some people would call it a friendly inquiry,” she argued good-naturedly as she bounced up alongside him.

He could feel her assessing gaze but refused to turn and acknowledge it. “We are not friends, Miss Terribury.”

“Right. How could I forget?” she retorted and then fell quiet as they continued through the wooded landscape. “Do you
have
any friends, my lord?”

He tossed her a glare of disapproval. “Another impertinent question.”

“Forgive me,” she replied, not sounding or looking the least bit contrite. In fact, his brief glimpse of her face told him she was enjoying her impertinence. “But you can imagine my skepticism,” she continued in a breezy tone, “considering how much you seem to enjoy behaving in a manner more befitting a jackass than a gentleman.”

He came to an abrupt stop. What had she just called him?

“I suppose I must consider the possibility that you are not so rude to
everyone
,” she added thoughtfully as she kept walking, not realizing or not caring that he had stopped.

He glared after her, staggered by her audacity in uttering such a blatant insult. And as his intellect struggled to come to terms with the fact that he had just been likened to an ignorant beast, the more basic level of his focus was unexpectedly snared by the sight of generous hips swaying in rhythm to a carefree feminine stride. It struck him how relaxed and unassuming her movements were and how they contained a natural allure he suspected she was completely unaware of.

But he was aware. And that awareness spread rapidly to a particular area of his body he would rather remain oblivious. Shifting his weight to accommodate his growing discomfort, he realized he had completely forgotten what they had been discussing.

She hadn’t.

“It is likely you reserve a certain amount of animosity for us Terriburys especially,” she continued, unknowing that his thoughts had shifted in a decidedly inappropriate direction. “I imagine it takes a lot of effort to maintain such a forbidding expression and distant demeanor.”

Her steps faltered and she glanced around as if she’d just then realized he was no longer walking beside her. Stopping, she turned in place to look back at him.

Her sweetly full lips curved into a warm smile. It seemed her good humor had returned. He doubted she ever went very long without it.

“It really is unnecessary for you to keep up such unpleasantness around me. I know you don’t believe me, but I assure you I have no designs on you. Marital or otherwise.”

It was the
otherwise
he couldn’t stop thinking about. “You may not,” he replied with forced gravity, though he was starting to wonder if her pert little smile tasted as sweet as it looked. “But your mother is another story altogether.”

She sighed. “Good point. And you have had to be wary of Mother for such a long time. I suppose your belligerent manner toward anyone carrying the Terribury name is likely far too ingrained for me to expect you to change now.” She waved her hand in a flighty gesture and gazed upward from the corner of her eye. “Isn’t there something they say about old dogs and new tricks?”

Her insinuation did not deserve a response. He should ignore it.

But sexual tension had gotten twisted too tightly within him. And there had simply been one too many flippant insults tossed at his head without proper consequence.

He lowered his chin and started toward her. Slowly. “I am not a dog, and I am far from old.”

“Oh?” she asked with an innocent blink of her eyes. “Are you sure? Perhaps our walk has been a bit too strenuous. That might explain your disgruntlement. Do you need to rest?”

He came to a stop directly in front of her. So close she had to tip her head back to continue meeting his gaze. He took a moment to slide his gaze over the inquisitive arch of her eyebrows, the richness of her earthy eyes that flashed with humor, and her lips. Lovely full lips curved in a mischievous smile that was beginning to falter.

“You should not be so free to challenge a man’s strength and virility.”

Something of the fierce arousal racing through his veins must have shown in his face, because the last remnants of her smile slipped away and she took a step back. The pulse in her throat fluttered. “I…I didn’t.”

He had intended to scare her a little—let her know she had crossed the line. But he could not seem to stop himself from pushing her a bit further.

“You would not want me to prove you wrong.”

She stared at him. Her gaze was bright and intent. Her posture tense and ready. Then something changed. There was a flicker of something elemental in the depth of her eyes.

“I wouldn’t?”

Desire clamored clumsily through him, urging him to accept her unwitting challenge. He grasped her upper arms and drew her toward him as his gaze fell to her mouth again.

God, he wanted to kiss her. Test the lush surface of her lips, taste the secrets of her tongue. The warmth of her body saturated his clothing and the softness of her curves crushed against him, begging for further exploration. The base desire to possess rose darkly within him and he battled to maintain control.

She made a soft little sound in her throat and he shifted his gaze. She stared at him with wide glittering eyes. Her cheeks were flushed and her chest heaved with short breaths she drew through parted lips. Yet she did not look frightened. She looked…ready.

A strong band of caution wrapped around the desire running rampant through him.

He had only meant to prove a point, retaliate for her insult.

This was something else. Something dangerous and unwanted.

“Blast it.” With stiff movements, he released her arms and stepped back. He looked down and saw her notebook had fallen to the ground and he quickly retrieved it. As soon as he handed it to her, she drew it into her chest and folded her arms over the book. Then she promptly turned away from him and continued walking.

He drew up beside her. “I owe you another apology,” he admitted, hoping she did not detect the raw note of lust still present in his tone.

There was lengthy pause before she replied. “Probably.”

Neither of them said anything more, and after a while the silence wasn’t so glaring. There remained, however, a fine thread of new awareness that could not be eliminated.

Every now and then the bleat of sheep from an adjacent meadow and the sudden rustle of ground fowl as they took flight from their nests interrupted the stony silence. The path widened and took them near an old and crumbling stone wall, damp and black with age, before circling back to the house. Once the grand structure could be seen rising from behind the trees, they both stopped as if on a silent cue.

She spoke first. “Thank you for your escort, my lord. We cannot risk getting any closer to the party while still in each other’s company. If you would wait several minutes, or better yet find an alternate route, I shall continue from here on my own.”

There was tension in her demeanor that had not been present at the start of their walk. He felt a clenching of guilt in his gut, knowing he had been the cause of it.

“Miss Terribury—”

“No need to say anything.” She tossed him an easy grin. He didn’t have a chance to argue the interruption before she started away from him then turned and added over her shoulder, “As before, we never saw each other today. This lovely little walk never happened.”

Chapter Seven

“This mask is deuced uncomfortable,” Grimm grumbled as he tugged on the offending swath of black crepe that covered his face minus two holes cut for visibility.

“Leave it,” Rutherford ordered in an exaggerated baritone, adjusting his own mask. “Until we finish this stunt and get safely away, that strip of fabric does not move from your face. And remember to alter your voice.”

“Th’ wretch can barely recall why we’re out ’ere. He drank hisself into a stupor las’ night.”

Rutherford winced at Whitely’s heavy accent coupled with an effeminate lisp.

“I know blasted well why we are out here,” Grimm retorted. “I cannot forget, can I, when it is my head on the chopping block?”

“All of our ’eads now, ungrateful sop, since we agreed t’ help ya,” Whitely reminded him.

Grimm’s shoulders slumped. “Right. Sorry. Just nervous.”

“I still think Blackbourne should be ’ere. I’d feel much better with a foursome.”

“No names,” Rutherford growled. “You know he could not get away without telling his wife something. That woman is far too clever.” He leaned forward in his saddle to scan down the darkened stretch of highway. “Now we need to stay sharp and alert if we are to make it successfully through the night.” Looking back pointedly at Grimm, he added. “It would be best if you said nothing at all. Even if you disguise your voice, there is risk of your lady friend recognizing you. Stay in front and keep your focus on the driver. We will handle the passengers.”

As he finished his speech, Rutherford heard the distant approach of a carriage. His mount shifted uneasily as if sensing his anxiety.

“On the ready,” he murmured.

Pulling his pistol from the folds of his oversized cloak, he checked to ensure it was ready. The other men’s pistols were unloaded since they carried them for intimidation rather than use. His own was loaded to fire the warning shot that would halt the carriage and give the required level of fear. He was counting on the fact that most drivers were instructed to cooperate with highwaymen so as not to put their employers at undue risk. But Rutherford was not going to ignore the possibility that some brave man may be inclined to challenge them. He had another pistol tucked into his boot ready to use in defense only if absolutely necessary.

Turning slowly in his saddle to reduce the creaking of leather, he watched the carriage come around the bend. They were stationed about halfway between Silverly and London, knowing the guests from the Blackbourne party would have to travel this way to get back to town. Already several carriages had passed their position, but none of them had been their intended mark.

Grimm had assured them Lady Ashdown was returning to town this night, and they had gone over the details of the Ashdown vehicle several times so they could recognize it on sight. As the approaching carriage drew near, Rutherford noted the distinctive colors Grimm had described and felt a rush of alert anticipation.

He looked to Grimm and the other man nodded vigorously. Rutherford swore he heard him swallowing down his nerves.

With a quick and silent prayer all would go as planned, Rutherford urged his horse out from beneath the cover of trees and into the road. He didn’t even have to fire a shot as the driver pulled up instantly. His friends followed and took their places around the vehicle.

“Stand and deliver,” he announced loudly enough for the passengers inside to hear him. He wanted there to be no confusion as to what was taking place. He kept his eyes on the driver until Grimm trained his pistol on the man. The driver did not look the slightest bit inclined to put up a fight and Rutherford experienced a brief brush of relief.

They might manage to pull this off with minimal hassle.

Rutherford nodded to Whitely, who went straight to the carriage door and dismounted. Rutherford kept back to watch the scene for unexpected developments. He scanned the road in both directions. They needed to get this done quickly and effectively. This was their only chance to get their hands on the ring before it was hidden away in Lady Ashdown’s townhouse.

He refused to consider the possibility she had tucked the piece into her luggage rather than risk keeping it on her person where it could be spied and recognized.

“I must ask ye ladies to alight from yer vehicle. It’ll only take a bit,” Whitely was saying into the darkened recess of the carriage. The menacing shadow of his pistol belied his pandering tone.

Rutherford took a quick look at Grimm to assure himself the man was keeping his post at the driver’s side and then returned his focus to Whitely.

Lady Ashdown was supposed to be traveling alone, but Rutherford tried to consider every contingency. Should the lady be found with a companion, Whitely had been instructed to order the occupants from the vehicle. This was to allow for Rutherford to help keep an eye on them while Whitely searched their possessions. He did not want anyone using the darkness of the carriage to pull a concealed weapon.

Whitely helped first Lady Ashdown to the ground and then turned to offer a hand to a second and then a third woman.

Lady Terribury’s gaze darted about in alarm as she stepped from the vehicle.

Rutherford tightened his fingers on his reins in annoyance. The woman was everywhere these days.

“What is this about?” Lady Terribury demanded, her voice shrill.

“My dear ladies, we mean ye no harm,” Whitely explained in an effusively flowered tone, though he kept his unloaded pistol raised for the women to see. He waved them into a line alongside the carriage. “Relinquish yer valuables and we’ll be on our way.”

“But I have so few lovely things,” Lady Ashdown argued plaintively. “You cannot take everything.”

“We can an’ we will,” Whitely asserted. A hard note of warning coated his sugared voice. There was a sharp moment of silence as the ladies stood with wide eyes.