Sandra Madden (22 page)

"If ye dinna mind," the duke was now saying to Edmund, "I shall stop again at Rose Hall on me return to Scotland."

"You are always welcome," Edmund responded with rigid formality.

Percy whined and made a leap for Kate, who tripped as she pitched back. The old duke responded quickly, catching Kate in his arms before she landed ingloriously on her bottom.

"Percy!" Edmund yanked at the beast's collar.

"A handsome bloodhound," Donald Cameron commented.

"He, he likes me," Kate stammered.

"Ye couldn't have a better friend, lass. Ye aren't afraid of him, are ye?"

"Nay... Nay," she repeated firmly. Perhaps if she denied her fear enough, it would prove true. She would no longer fear the huge canine.

The earl scowled at Kate as he slipped a folded missive from his shirt pocket. He well knew her pride had prevented her from speaking the truth. At least he hadn't revealed her as a fabricator.

"This message has come for you," he said coolly, as he handed the missive to her.

Puzzled, Kate broke the seal and opened the message under the steady scrutiny of both men. She gasped in surprise, then smiled as warm pleasure bubbled up within her heart.

" "Tis from Papa. He is to be married."

Although Kate was uncertain she could travel to York in time to see her papa wed, she did not vacillate for a moment. She decided at once to go to his wedding. The man who had been a loving father to her deserved to be happy again. Mama would have wanted that. And Kate did, too.

* * * *

No matter how he argued, Edmund could not dissuade the headstrong gardener's daughter from embarking on a dangerous journey to York. Several guests still lingered at Rose Hall, making it impossible for him to accompany Kate to protect her.

The following morning he stood in the thick, chilly fog watching Donald Cameron depart for Burghley House, and Kate in Edmund's finest coach leaving for York.

" 'Tis not a safe journey," he muttered, hoping one last time to force her to change her mind.

"You have lent Robert to ride with me for protection."

He'd ordered a burly guard and a waiting maid to accompany Kate. Still, Edmund felt uneasy. The roads were poor and stalked by highwaymen.

"One man is not enough, and yet I can spare no more. Stay another day, and I will escort you, Kate."

"If I wait another day, Papa's wedding will certainly be over. I must go now. Do not worry, Edmund."

Would that he could cease to worry about Kate on command.

Even Percy appeared to be in a state of despair. Directly following Kate's departure, Edmund's hound had curled up in the corner of Edmund's chamber and had not moved since.

Several hours later Edmund joined his aunt and Lady Mason in the rose garden. They sat on a stone bench near the center of the garden, engaged in gossip, as usual.

"I shall sorely miss her," Cordelia told Lady Mason. "But what could I say? Her papa is to be married. At least the papa who raised her. Poor thing is a foundling you know. Abandoned."

"Abandoned!" Lady Mason clicked her tongue and wagged her head. "Poor child. You did the right thing, Cordelia."

But had he? Edmund wondered. He stepped forward, making his presence known. "Good day, ladies."

Aunt Cordelia greeted him with a smile. Lady Mason dipped her head.

With his hands clasped behind his back, he paced a small area in front of the ladies. "I am worried about Kate traveling alone, Aunt Cordelia."

"Whatever for?" Aunt Cordelia blinked. "She is well taken care of, eh? You set her off as if she were a great lady."

Had he heard a hint of disapproval in his aunt's tone?

"Kate is like one of the family, Aunt."

"The girl has been at Rose Hall since only a babe," Cordelia informed Lady Mason in a hushed aside.

Edmund felt the involuntary constriction of his jaw muscles. He brushed back the pestering lock of hair that had fallen to his forehead. "I do not feel confident that Kate is safe."

Cordelia gave a heavy-hearted sigh. "She
is
a beautiful young woman."

A knot formed in the pit of Edmund's stomach. "The coach might lose a wheel," he chafed. "Anything could happen."

"I do not know how I should get along without Kate,” his aunt confided to her friend.

Edmund stopped in his tracks.
Bloody Hell! My aunt cannot get along without her. Without her?
'Twas all he needed to hear. Guests be damned, he had not a moment to lose.

"I'm going after Kate. I shall escort her to York."

"But... we have guests," Aunt Cordelia protested.

"And you are the most famous hostess. I am certain you will care well for those who remain. Make my excuses. You may even claim I have had a relapse of the measles."

" ‘Tis highly improper," she exclaimed, blinking as if motes from the wind had got caught in both her eyes.

"The relapse has obviously caused me a degree of madness," Edmund replied with a wry smile. Having made his decision, he felt a great burden lift from his shoulders. Kate was headstrong and stubborn; but if any harm should come to her, he would never forgive himself.

Aunt Cordelia called after him. "How long will you be gone from Rose Hall?"

"I do not know." Edmund waved without stopping as he strode briskly toward the stable. "Farewell."

He started out immediately, riding hard. England's roads were poor, barely more than rutted, overgrown paths that regularly washed out during heavy rain.

Coaches were forced to travel slowly. For that reason, Edmund expected to catch up with his carriage and Kate before nightfall.

Near dusk, when he stopped once more to rest his gelding, Edmund smelled rain in the air. The wind whipped about him, rustling through the trees, biting his face, catching in his hair.

His pulse pounded. Alarm prickled through him, dragging its sharp edge of fear. Edmund berated himself for miscalculating time and distance. His coach was nowhere in sight. He could not explain his apprehension; he only knew he would not rest until he made certain that Kate was safe.

The good-for-naught prospect of idling the night away in an inn roiled in his belly like spoiled sturgeon. He must find Kate. But the narrow, rutted roads made travel after dark impossible.

As he pondered his problem, Edmund heard musket retorts in the distance ahead.

His heart thundered within his chest. A spiking fear struck his gut. Edmund fairly leaped into the saddle. Spurring his mount forward, he galloped at a heretofore unimaginable speed. Finally, he reached an incline where he could see the road below.

'Twas his coach under siege by highwaymen.

Kate was being attacked.

Chapter Fourteen

Let not spring showers dismay you

Two men, only two men.

Edmund watched, contemplating his next move.

The highwaymen held their muskets on Robert and the coach driver, rendering Edmund's men helpless. One of the thieves dismounted and, with musket pointed, approached the carriage door. Lightning flashed and thunder rolled in the sky as he yanked open the door.

A terrible mixture of fury and fear exploded from Edmund in an earsplitting primal roar. A howling, warrior cry rivaling the rage of the heavens. He thought his lungs might burst.

The highwaymen looked about nervously, and then apparently deciding 'twas only the wind they'd heard, the two villains carried on with their business.

Without thought to his own safety, Edmund spurred his mount and careened down the hill toward the coach. His only thought was saving Kate from harm. Midway down the hill, the deluge of rain began. But it did not slow him.

Galloping through the hard-driving storm, Edmund swiftly drew closer. Mud flew in his face; rain pelted his skin. His heart raced at twice the speed of his horse's hooves.

Through the blur of the downfall, he saw Kate's lady's maid being pulled from the coach. And then Kate, head held high, descended from the carriage with the majesty of an ancient goddess.

Bloody hell! She'd be dead if she defied the rogues. And he knew she would.

Edmund let out another bloodcurdling cry.

This time, highwaymen and travelers alike turned toward him. The thieves froze in a ghostly, rain-swept scene.

Taking advantage of their dead-still reaction, Robert, the guard sent to protect Kate, leaped from his position beside the carriage driver. He landed with a great thud on top of the highwayman who had been standing with his musket trained upon Kate and her maid.

As the burly guard ground the villain into the mud, the second highwayman's horse reared, nearly knocking him to the ground. He looked to Edmund. Racing toward the bandit as if Lucifer and a band of archangels had given chase, Edmund's blood boiled with rage. But before he could close the gap, the cowardly scoundrel galloped away toward the wood, abandoning his comrade to his fate.

More interested in Kate's well-being than capturing a lily-livered thief, Edmund followed for only a short distance.

When he returned to the coach, he found Kate aiming Robert's musket at the captured highwayman as the guard bound the blackguard. Edmund jumped from his gelding.

Kate's eyes went wide with surprise. She dropped the musket and ran to Edmund, flinging herself into his arms. She was safe. Safe and trembling against him.

A flash of bright-white lightning bolted across the sky. The heavens rolled with thunder. Edmund reacted instinctively, giving no thought to propriety. He crushed Kate to him, holding her as tightly as he dared without hurting her. He no longer felt the rain, only Kate's slender body pressed against his, her arms wrapped around his neck. Her warmth, her sweet lavender scent... the chatter of her teeth.

He stepped back. Rain and tears streamed down her cheeks. There was no way to tell one from the other. Her body slumped from the weight of her rain-soaked clothes, but she gave no sign of being harmed as her lips quavered into a hapless smile.

"They, they wanted our jewelry," she stammered. "They would have taken my ring."

To hell with the troublesome ring. "Did they hurt you?"

"No." She shook her head and a hank of wet, tawny hair fell against her face. "You, you came to our rescue before they could do us harm."

Edmund wrapped his arm about Kate's shoulder, holding her close and guiding her back toward the coach. But the wheels of the carriage had already begun to sink into the mud.

He barked instructions to the driver and Robert to unhitch the coach horses and, with Kate's maid, ride to the Red Fox Inn. The inn he had been headed for when he heard the highwaymen.

Edmund lifted Kate to his horse and mounted behind her.

He had never been this near to her, to any woman he had not paid for the pleasure. A strange excitement tripped his heart.

'Twas slow and wet, and Edmund kept Kate close to him seeking to warm her. Holding the reins, his arms circled her, grazed the sides of her breasts. Her lithe form swayed against his, brushing to and fro, triggering wild imaginings and deepening desire.

Despite the cold rain, heat shot up within him like the flames of a wildfire. If only he could enjoy the distraction of conversation, but the storm forbade talk.

Edmund ached. He grew hard. The pain intensified. The rain showering his face could not cool his passion. He wanted Kate. Pray God, needed her. Wicked visions of making love to her fixed in his mind. Images he could not erase. Bloody hell, he was no better than a rutting stud. A sense of astounding relief flooded him when at last they reached the inn.

* * * *

While Kate was glad to be in out of the rain, she felt bereft without the closeness of Edmund. The strength and warmth of him, the steady beat of his heart had soothed her on the ride to the inn.

Upon arriving at the Red Fox Inn, the earl ordered a chamber for Kate and a tub of hot water to be brought to her at once. Mary had laid Kate's clothes to dry beside the fireplace before going downstairs to fetch a tray of food.

Alone in her small chamber, which was ablaze with candles and the roaring cackle of a fire, Kate sat on the edge of the bed and cried.

She had finished her bath, washed her hair, and was wrapped in a horsehair blanket twice the size of the village of Stamford. With the pop of the fire and her own sniffling tears, she almost did not hear the soft rap at her door.

Believing Mary had returned with something to eat, she did not hesitate. "Come in."

"Kate?"

Oh, fie! 'Twas Edmund, not Mary. And he appeared shocked to find her covered by nothing but a blanket.

Pulling the coarse covering tighter, she huddled inward and forced a tenuous smile. Edmund was a gentleman. He would apologize and go away.

But Edmund continued to stare. 'Twas as if he were transfixed. Shadows danced across his tall, dark figure. His damp linen shirt clung to his broad chest and muscular shoulders in a display of breath-stealing maleness. He was a man like no other. His wet, midnight hair gleamed like a starling's back.

Kate grew still. Even her tears were immobilized, ceasing their downward stream.

Obviously, Edmund had not yet been to his chamber. He had removed his stocks, but his breeches were still wet. He stood on the threshold barefoot. Commanding. Virile. The living, breathing form of every woman's dream.

Kate feared her heart had stopped. She stared, unable to look away.

His unwavering gaze met hers. When would he leave?

"I thought you were Mary with, with food," she explained in a rasp.

Edmund shook his head slowly.

She stated the obvious. "I am not prepared for a visit."

Apparently, Kate's state of undress did not concern him. "I heard you crying. Why were you crying?" he asked.

"For Papa. I will not be at his wedding now, and I did not wish to disappoint him."

"You could not disappoint him, Kate. Nor any man."

The husky timbre of Edmund's voice sent a cascade of warm shivers along her back, between her thighs. Her heart rolled over and over.

Later, Kate could not say why she did not protest when he closed the door behind him and advanced toward the bed.