Reckless Viscount (18 page)

And so Abbigael spent the first leg of the journey staring out the window. But there was only so much admiring one could do of forests and hills and dales before they all simply started to look the same.

Then there was nothing left to distract her and she started to wonder if she had completely lost her mind.

She shivered. In cold and uncertainty.

He had said she was ruined. Was it truth, or a ploy to manipulate her into wedding him willingly? That is his talent, after all. Manipulation. Seduction.

He had openly admitted as much.

She would be foolish to think his actions were anything other than well-practiced maneuvers designed to get exactly what he wanted.

How could she possibly consider such a man for a husband?

She turned her head and studied him.

His posture was so casual and relaxed. His shirt was open at the throat, his coat unbuttoned. His arms rested easily over his abdomen and his chin tilted toward his chest so she couldn’t see much of his face. He looked almost like a leisurely gentlemen who been out walking when he decided to stretch out beneath a tree and take a wee nap.

It was possible, she supposed, that a man like him may not think much of abducting a young woman and stealing her away with the intention to marry. But she doubted that was the case.

Also, there was something in his manner that gave her the impression he was not as relaxed as he appeared. There was tension in his broad shoulders, even as slumped as they were, and the muscles of his thighs were tensed as well. As if he braced himself.

She narrowed her gaze and leaned forward as far as she could without tumbling from her perch.

Was he even truly sleeping?

“Careful, Irish. One good bump will send you flying.”

Abbigael jerked back into her seat, narrowly missing hitting her head against the door frame on her way. The shriek that got stuck in her throat at his quietly spoken words ended in a quick choking cough.

“You are awake.”

She hated how she always ended up stating the obvious when she could think of nothing else to say.

He shifted, pushing himself back up into a more seated position. He kept his legs stretched in front of him, but now they were braced a bit further apart. Abbigael’s borrowed skirt draped over the top of one of his boots.

“I doubt anyone could sleep with such deep heartrending sighs filling the confines of the carriage every few minutes.” He lifted his chin only a fraction and eyed her from beneath his brows. “For a miniscule-sized female, you sure make a terrible racket.”

Abbigael frowned. “I was not…”

Sighing. Had she?

She probably had.

She lifted her chin and looked back at him, daring him to chastise her for waking him. But she saw the curve of humor in his lips and knew he was teasing her.

He did that a lot.

She was surprised to find she liked it.

Her frown slid away as she realized she finally had what she had wanted. Someone to talk to. Even if the likely topic was sure to make her anxious and doubtful of her own sanity, at least it was
something
to distract from the tedious monotony of the drive.

She turned on her seat to face him directly, setting her feet on the floor next to his left foot. She took a little extra time smoothing out the folds of the blue cotton gown over her thighs.

“Tell me,” she started in a light conversational tone, “have you slept at all on the journey, or were you faking it the entire time?”

“I never claimed to be sleeping. You just assumed I was.”

Her jaw dropped open before she remembered herself and promptly closed it. She hadn’t been expecting such a ready admission.

“You were so desperate to avoid my company?”

He paused before answering her and as she waited the nerves at the surface of her skin began to tingle. It was the depth of his gaze that did it to her. Sometimes he just looked at her as if her fears and weaknesses were spread before him across a buffet table.

Finally, he spoke, and his voice was soft and low in the way that infiltrated the very flow of her blood.

“I thought you might desire some time away from me.”

Her breath grew shallow and a nervous fluttering erupted in her stomach. “I don’t.”

His expression didn’t change at first. Then he smiled and the effect was devastating.

Abbigael searched for something to say. She willingly blamed the long drive on her desperate desire for company and conversation.

“You are now Lord Neville, correct?” His smile turned wooden, she assumed from grief. “Please accept my sympathy. The death of a parent can be quite…devastating.”

“Not in this case.” His voice was hollow and sharp at the same time, causing a shiver to run along the back of Abbigael’s neck. “Don’t waste such sweet sentiment.”

“You had no love for your father.”

Again, she stated the obvious and then wished she had just kept her mouth shut and allowed the topic to pass.

Leif laughed a little and pushed his hand back through his already tousled hair.

“Far from it. I would almost say we were mortal enemies.”

The expression on his face was so dark and shadowed that he barely looked at all like the charmer and scoundrel she had come to know. Clearly, she only knew him on the most superficial level. A black and turbulent storm raged behind the typical carelessness of his smile. How many others had been given the opportunity to see beyond that façade?

Not many, she would imagine.

His father had somehow created that storm in his soul. She was convinced of it

“Did you kill him?”

She wasn’t at all sure where the question came from. Once the words were spoken, she held her breath, delicately terrified of how he would answer. And not so much for the answer itself as for how she would react once she had it.

He looked at her with a flash of surprise in his eyes. Quite swiftly, the shadow of hatred slid away and left him looking rather bemused.

“You think me a murderer?”

She shrugged and refused to look away from his inquiring gaze, no matter that she still felt the intensity of his feelings for his father hovering in the atmosphere.

“I think if I am to marry you, I should know what you are capable of.” Her answer was softly spoken.

A part of her was shamed that she didn’t condemn the idea from the start. Another part of her understood people could be driven to anything given the right motivation. That part of her felt only compassion.

He shook his head and glanced away from her.

“I did not kill him,” he replied in clipped tones. “Still, it would be best for you to never mention him again.”

“Of course,” she answered.

Long moments of silence followed as Abbigael searched for some light and pleasant topic to shift the heaviness of the mood that had settled about them. She could feel his withdrawal more now than when she had thought him to be asleep. An atmosphere of uneasiness had settled about him and she knew she had caused it with her thoughtless prying.

She was a horrible conversationalist. She wished she had been given more opportunity to fine-tune the art of small talk. Invariably, when it mattered most, she ended up saying the wrong thing. With him reverting back to silence, she was left once again with nothing to do but analyze her own thoughts, and she wasn’t exactly sure she understood what she was finding.

A few hours later, the carriage rolled into the stable yard of an inn that was quite a bit larger and more modern than the ones they had passed previously. Night had fallen long ago, and a grumble in Abbigael’s stomach had her hoping they might go inside and stay for a little while. Long enough to warm by a fire perhaps and enjoy a good meal in a well-lit space without constant movement beneath them.

Leif quickly dispelled that fantasy.

“If you need to use the convenience, now is the time. I will inquire into whether or not they can wrap something for us to eat.”

The carriage stopped and he pushed the door open. He was halfway to the ground by the time she managed to reply.

“We are not staying?” She didn’t bother to keep the disappointment from her voice.

He turned back. His broad shoulders took up the entire space of the little doorway. With the light from the inn behind him, she couldn’t see his face, but she could hear the tension in his voice.

“This is not a leisurely drive.”

Chapter Sixteen

“Irish.”

A warm hand covered her shoulder. It was the first bit of warmth she had felt for hours and she turned toward it, brushing her cheek against it before it was snatched away.

“Irish, wake up.”

The voice had gotten more insistent. Impatient really. She scowled without opening her eyes. She was exhausted and sore. Unfortunately, the sort of half-sleep she had been getting for the last few hours, constantly fighting the sway of the carriage, trying to stay warm beneath the rugs she had found tucked under her seat, had not done much to relieve the aching in her back and limbs or the anxiety in her heart.

Compared to full wakefulness, she much preferred the dreamless and uncomfortable half-sleep.

She curled deeper beneath the woolen rug and tried to turn her back on the voice. But a quick smack to her bottom had her instantly awake as she emitted a sharp little shriek and flew to a seated position.

She looked over her shoulder with narrowed eyes and saw Leif lounging in the seat across her, looking for all the world as if he hadn’t just intentionally harmed her person. In a most undignified way.

His wide grin flashed a set of perfect teeth and a frisson of awareness skittered across her skin, waking her fully.

“Good morning. We’ve made it.”

As if on cue, the carriage turned off the road. Abbigael twisted in her seat, trying to right herself to look out the small window. She leaned forward, uncaring that her unbound hair fell in a tangled mess over her shoulder to sweep the floor of the carriage.

It was still dark, but she was able to discern the shadowed impressions of several small buildings nestled cozily alongside each other. There was very little movement outside that she could see, but the world seemed poised on the verge of something. The sun would rise soon.

She took a breath and turned to Leif, then promptly forgot whatever it was she intended to say.

He was so close to her, closer than he had been since they had woken at the inn. She practically leaned over his lap. Her hair draped intimately across his thighs, and if he wished to, he only had to lift his hand the barest degree to touch the curve of her ribs. Or her breast. In the darkness, his eyes appeared lit with a glowing flame, golden and warm. He didn’t shift an inch from his relaxed posture, but there was a tangible air of readiness about him. As if all he needed was a wee bit of provocation and he would slide into action.

After enduring hours of uncertainty, discomfort and the growing fear that the passion he had shown had simply been a clever manipulation, the heat of his attention smoothed over her skin like a warm wind and spread through her blood. His casual, but carnal, gaze pierced her center like a bolt of lightning.

Abbigael’s reaction was deep and instantaneous.

She recalled the weight of him between her thighs, heard the catching sighs of her own breath against his shoulder and tasted the drugging wine of his kiss. Fierce and desperate need filled her. The feeling was as deep and poignant as any emotion and Abbigael feared its intensity.

It could not be good for a person to desire something so badly.

She lowered her eyes, breaking the connection, and pushed away from the window to settle back in her seat. The whole thing had lasted less than a full moment, but she would feel the aftereffects of that visceral connection for hours to come.

When the carriage came to a stop, Leif pushed the door open and vaulted to the ground without waiting for the driver to assist. Then he turned back and offered her his hand.

She concealed her feelings with painstaking restraint, but when she lifted her eyes to meet his, she wondered if there had been any point.

Calculated intelligence sparked brightly in the hazel-colored depths of his eyes and a smile curved his lips. She felt as if he were reading her thoughts, as if her carefully constructed shields were useless and he knew exactly of the need he inspired in her.

“Come.” It was just one word, but it was uttered with such confident promise that Abbigael melted inside.

With nothing else to do, she put her hand in his and acknowledged the tingling rush of awareness that spread from where her palm rested in his as she stepped down to the ground in front of the small posting inn.

The inn was quaint and boasted several small outbuildings spreading out on either side to create almost a courtyard in front. Through the two front windows of the main building, she could see a faint light, likely the glow of a single candle left burning for weary travelers. She glanced around. A hazy grey dawn was starting to arrive along the eastern horizon. If she gazed hard enough, she could just barely make out the black shapes of shadowed buildings lining the road against the charcoal sky. A dog barked somewhere off in the distance and a chilling gust of wind kicked up the dirt around them, sneaking beneath the hem of her skirt and twisting her hair about her shoulders. Abbigael shivered and wrapped her arms around her middle.