The Belligerent Miss Boynton AND The Lurid Lady Lockport (Two Companion Full-Length Regency Novels) (9 page)

"Oh, you
monster
!" she cried, and raised a hand to deal him a vicious slap. But he shot out his hand and caught at her wrist, squeezing it between his long fingers.

"Tch, tch, my sweet, would you beat on an injured man?" Her attack had put him back on his mettle. He cast any uneasy thoughts to the back of his mind, to be pondered later, and entered into the spirit of the fight. "Much more abuse at your hands and I shall go into a decline, I swear it. I have been so far unhorsed no less than three times, threatened by footpads and country bumpkins, and endured unspeakable creature discomforts—all because of you. I warn you, Amanda, think twice before you attack me again, for in future I fully intend to retaliate."

She shook her wrists free and stepped back a few paces, her face a study in fury. "You devil! Dare to touch me and I'll—I'll rip out your guts and throw them to the crows, I'll..."

"Ah, yes. Harrow told me of your picturesque turns of speech, Amanda. I must say my knees are knocking together merely at the thought of your vengeance. However, we have many miles to cover before we reach the inn where I wish to stop for the night, so I believe we can dispense with these transports for the nonce, don't you?"

Amanda's chin went up as she retorted, "If you didn't insist on carrying me off willy-nilly to your estate you could make much better time, my lord."

"Carry you off. But what folly is this, my dear? I assure you, you are free to leave me at any time. I haven't forced you to accompany me."

"Oh, really? And what about Harrow, and—and Tom?"

"Ah, so you've belatedly remembered your friends, have you? Does your memory also expand to include Peregrine Denton and his plans for you?"

"His plans were no worse than yours," she said derisively.

Jared cocked an eyebrow. "Indeed?"

Amanda continued to glare into his eyes for a few moments, and then her gaze shifted as she was forced to admit—at least to herself—that she would rather be with Jared than anyone of her stepfather's choosing. She hated Jared Delaney, but for the first time in over three years she felt really alive!

She sighed and strode purposefully toward her horse, which stood by idly chewing on some tender new grass. "Now you're the one wasting time, my lord. As you say, it grows late, and we have many miles to cover. If you think you can manage your animal I suggest we move on." She mounted Tempest unaided and started to canter off in the direction of the roadway.

Jared looked after her for a few moments. He still was not quite sure of his own feelings during the impulsive embrace they had just shared, and he was even more unsure of Amanda's. For a few seconds she had melted in his arms—and he was sure he had felt the first stirrings of passion on her lips.

It was confusing to him. All his life women had pursued him for either his fortune or his looks, or both, but this girl rejected him totally. He had to have her! Only after he had bedded her could he get himself free of this torment.

He swung into the saddle and turned Devil to follow in Amanda's wake, no longer sure where either of them were headed...

#

It was after dark before the horses rode into the small village Jared had chosen to stop at for the night. Amanda felt tired and dirty and exceedingly put-upon, and she slumped in her saddle as they progressed toward the posting inn on the other end of the village.

She was too fatigued to take notice of the rather large amount of traffic on the small street. Nor did she see the several well-dressed men loitering outside the inn until two of them broke away from the group and came up to Jared.

"Stap me, Bo, if it ain't Jared! Jared, you old devil, we had about given you up. We stopped in Half Moon Street and were told you wasn't home. I told Bo you wouldn't forget a mill as fine as this one and you'd show up by and by, so we got you a room anyway. You owe me for that, old fellow."

Before Jared could muster a reply the man turned to his companion with a grin. "How about our friend, say, Bo? Not only does he show up, but he brings his own lovebird along to warm his nest."

Amanda's eyes flew to Jared's face and she opened her mouth to speak, but no words would come. How dare he bring her along to a filthy boxing match! Then she saw he was looking quite as astonished as she and decided to wait it out. She wanted to hear what he had to say in his defense—not that anything he had done since she first met him had been in the least defensible.

"The devil take it," Jared muttered under his breath, then quickly slid from his horse and approached the two men. Amanda watched as their grins faded and, as Jared talked and gestured, their eyes slid more than once to the slim girl who remained seated on the big horse. Finally the man who had spoken earlier crossed to her and performed a rather elegant leg as he swept off his curly-brimmed beaver hat.

"A thousand pardons, Miss Boynton, for my earlier indiscretion. I will rip out my tongue at your command! Jared has explained that you lost a wheel off your carriage some miles back and were lucky enough to have my friend come along to bring you into the village before you were benighted on the road. How fortunate your uncle's horse was tied to the carriage." He cast his eyes about him. "Where is your uncle, by the way?"

"Er...he...um—that is, Un-Uncle Roscoe chose to stay with the carriage, sir, and I came along with Lord Storm, Mister...Mister? Excuse me, but I don't know how to address you." Amanda's mind was racing furiously as she tried to figure out Jared's plans. Obviously he was not going to admit the truth, but whom was he protecting with this absurd Banbury tale—her, or himself?

The tall slender man lifted Amanda's hand and bowed over it. "Again I find myself apologizing, Miss Boynton. I am the Honorable—or, in this case, not quite so honorable, Kevin Rawlings, long time friend and compatriot of your escort...and your servant, ma'am."

By this time the other two men had come up to them and a young, rather husky man with an unruly shock of red hair and innumerable freckles covering his flushed cheeks took his turn bowing over Amanda's hand.

"Chevington, ma'am...pleasure...servant, and all that," he murmured under his breath, and then the majority of him disappeared behind Jared's back.

"You've just had the pleasure of being greeted by Mr. Buford Chevington, Amanda," Jared told her with a grin as he assisted her down from the saddle.

Mr. Rawlings gave Jared a quick look, silently mouthing the single word, "Amanda?" There was something smoky here, and unless he missed his guess a fine tale laid behind the arrival of the beautiful black-haired girl. Wasn't there some hum about Jared and a black-haired wench at Almacks?

"Yes, indeed, Miss Boynton," Kevin piped up cheerfully, scenting a delicious intrigue, "you are privileged more than you know. Our Bo rarely speaks to females at all," he ended as Amanda bent her head to peer around Jared for another look at the funny little man.

"Oh," she said, "then I am truly honored, Mr. Chevington, and I return your greeting." Her engaging smile coaxed Mr. Chevington out of hiding and he addressed Jared in his usual clipped speech.

"Cold out here, Jared. Bad
ton
, leaving a lady standing in the street. People staring and all that. Past my dinner, too."

"You're quite right, Bo," Jared agreed, and held out his arm for Amanda, who took it gratefully. "Kevin, I assume you have already secured us a private dining room where Miss Boynton may dine after she freshens herself?"

Before Kevin could answer Amanda spoke up in her own interests. "I prefer to dine in my room, my lord, if it is convenient." She felt a warning pressure on her arm but chose to ignore it. "And since my abigail stayed behind in the coach, I shall require a chambermaid to help me with my bath." Her eyes danced in her head as she averted Jared's furious look.

Jared knew when he was beaten and gave in gracefully, not that Amanda had left him any choice. As he watched her climb the stairs—a chambermaid behind her carrying her small hat box, which was all the luggage she could attach to Tempest's saddle before they left Fox Chase—his friend Kevin appeared at his side.

"Shouldn't you be sending someone back down the road to pick up the uncle?"

Jared hesitated a second and then hastily agreed, but Kevin had known Jared too long to be taken in by such a sorry story.

"There is no uncle, is there, Jared? No abigail either. And, furthermore, no coach. Tell me, have I imagined it all, or is there really a Miss Boynton?"

"Oh, there is a Miss Boynton all right, and you've just seen her. As for the rest, ah, Kevin, thereby hangs a tale." Jared slung an arm around his friend's shoulder and turned him toward the barroom. "Let's get Bo and split a few bottles, shall we? This is not a story I wish to tell twice."

"Before you start, Jared, tell me one thing. Did you remember we planned to meet here for the mill tomorrow?"

"You want the truth? Kevin, since I've met Amanda it's lucky if I remember if I'm on my head or on my heels. All I could recall was the location of this inn. Excuse me my candor, but the last two people I expected to encounter on this journey were you and Bo."

Bo joined the pair as they passed through the common room on the way to their reserved dining room, Jared calling out greetings to many acquaintances but not stopping to exchange pleasantries.

"Boynton...Boynton." Kevin tapped his lips with one well-manicured finger as he searched his memory after they had ordered their meal and a half-dozen bottles. "Could that be the Boynton who slipped his moorings about ten years back? The horse breeder? Good man."

"One and the same, Kevin, though it was eight years to be precise. Miss Boynton is his only offspring," Jared told him.

"Yes. Good man, Boynton," Bo interjected. "For shame, Jared. Dirty business that, running off with the daughter."

Jared took a long sip from his wine glass and raised his hand for silence. "I can see I must start at the beginning and tell you both everything before one of my fine friends calls me out for seducing a young lady of quality."

Bo turned an astonished face toward Kevin. "Would we, Kevin? It's Jared, you know. He's m'friend."

"Relax, Bo," Kevin assured him. "I would never raise a hand to Jared. He's my friend too, and besides"—he winked at Jared—"he's a much better shot than either you or I."

Jared laughed, then cracked open another bottle and began his tale, only to be interrupted by such sympathetic observations as:

"Ho! ho! Very good, 'pon my word! Very good, indeed!"

"Made a cake of yourself in that one, friend."

"In the dirt? What's that, Kevin—three times?"

"By George, I wish I had seen that!"

"Good girl! Lots of spunk, and a devilish fine-looking woman to boot! "

But the best remarks were heard at the end of Jared's recitation, when Kevin jumped up and fairly shouted, "Bracketed? You must have fallen off that horse onto your head!"

Bo was much more subdued in his reaction to the news that the elusive Lord Storm was seriously entertaining the wedded state. "Only proper. Pity the girl, though. Dashed loose-screw you are, Jared. Always thought so, myself."

Jared remained calm and drawled, "Thank you both, my good friends, for those stirring felicitations. But I've quite made up my mind. We marry tomorrow night when we reach Storm Haven."

Now Kevin was entirely incensed, and showed it in the coolness with which he said drawled, "Such haste, Romeo, is unseemly."

"Oh, really, Kevin? Perhaps you think I should wait until we can have Denton give away the bride at St. George's. Please, spare both Amanda and myself such a travesty."

"Quite so, Kevin," Bo interrupted. "Wouldn't want Denton either. Don't like the man above half."

The three friends talked and argued until late, and Jared left them only when he had extracted their promise not to reveal the full extent of his plans to Amanda.

"Rather mean of you, Jared. Letting the girl hang in suspense, thinking herself to be ravished at any moment. It doesn't seem the proper way to treat a wife," Kevin observed.

Jared put a tentative hand to his black-and-blue rump, a result of his numerous spills. "Let me be the judge of that, Kevin. Now I must say good night. It's been a long day."

"Where are you sleeping? Miss Boynton is in your chamber."

"I'll sleep in with one of you if you'll have me. But first I must go and say my goodnights to my intended. I have a feeling she's expecting me, and I've always made it my practice to never disappoint a female."

After he left the room his two friends exchanged long glances, before Kevin shook his head, saying, "Jared Delaney getting himself riveted. I don't believe it. Why? Why would he do such a thing?"

"Besotted," Bo answered firmly, then lifted a bottle to his cherubic mouth.

"Jared? In
love
? Bo, you're dead as a house." Kevin leaned forward to pour himself another glass. "Besotted! Ha—that's a good one! " Then his eyes turned to the door through which Jared had passed a few moments ago. He frowned in speculation and was quiet for a long time.

#

Although nearly dropping with fatigue, Amanda was still awake and fully-dressed in an old muslin gown she had brought with her from Fox Chase. She was also, at that moment, pacing in her assigned room, awaiting the inevitable.

After a refreshing bath and a heartening meal she had felt better prepared to face Jared, but this waiting was becoming unendurable. She felt for the stiletto hidden in a pocket in her gown, and crossed to the mirror. Her reflection showed her a young girl with wide, fear-dulled eyes. She had let her long black hair hang down her back to dry it, and in the outdated dress she believed she looked painfully young. Maybe he would take pity on her and let her go.

Her mind turned again to the two gentlemen she had met on her arrival. Would it be possible to turn to them for assistance? Somehow she doubted it. They were all three of them probably downstairs right now, casting lots as to which one would invade her chamber tonight. She felt her lip quiver and gave herself a mental shake. It wouldn't do her any good to allow her imagination full rein.