Velvet Embrace (52 page)

She paused, her gaze involuntarily returning to Dominic. "Lord Stanton also believes," she said with a trace of bitterness, "that I, in conjunction with my grandfather, plotted his death. Until yesterday, I was unaware that my grandfather was even alive. And while I admit there have been times when Lord Stanton and I have had . . . our differences, I have never wished him dead."

Unable to bear Dominic's chill stare any longer, Brie looked at Jason. "I don't know where my grandfather lives, only that he is somewhere in Burgundy. I have no wish to chase you across several hundred miles of unfamiliar country, however, so if you will only give me Sir Charles' precise location, I will leave you in peace."

"I suppose," Dominic said with acid sarcasm, "you plan to ride through France, dressed as a highwayman and brandishing a pistol."

"I don't have much choice!" Brie snapped, turning to glare at him. "A woman can hardly travel alone without a disguise. Besides, I thought it best to leave London. After last night I dare not even show my face."

Dominic didn't reply. He knew he should explain that he had been innocent of trying to humiliate Brie in front of his friends, but he was still furious for having allowed himself to be so taken in by her lies—and angrier still because he had been unable to suppress the sudden rush of pleasure at seeing her again. She had knocked his equilibrium off balance by stopping his coach. He had known, of course, that she was spirited and stubborn, but never would he have guessed she would try and follow him to France. Just what the hell was she up to?

Moreover, why was she pretending to know nothing about her grandfather? He knew damned well she was lying. He could recall how she had reacted to him that night at the Lodge when they had first met. Brie had recognized his name, he was sure of it. He had seen the flicker of alarm in her eyes when he had introduced himself. And what about her extreme wariness later, and all those stories she had made up to keep her identity a secret? She had claimed it was merely to protect her reputation, but he could see now she had been afraid he would discover her connection with Durham. Dominic clenched his jaw, remembering Brie's fear of him. All that time he had been concerned for her, thinking she had been frightened by a bad experience with a lover.

Watching her now, though, Dominic found it easy to see how he had fallen for her lies. Even dressed as she was in her rough boy's clothes, Brie was beautiful. She was glaring at him fiercely, her eyes flashing with indignation, her cheeks flushed with anger. Feeling his groin muscles tighten, Dominic swore under his breath. Fiend seize it, he was becoming a candidate for Bedlam! After all that had happened, he still wanted her. Brie had lied to him, maybe even tried to kill him, yet he was still attracted by her beauty, by her vibrancy. He couldn't deny that she still had the power to stir him. He wanted to reach out and take her in his arms. . . .

But she had played him for a fool, Dominic reminded himself viciously. And while he found himself wanting to believe she wasn't nearly
so
treacherous as circumstances indicated, he couldn't allow himself to trust her.

He glanced at Jason, noting that his friend wore a look of grave concern. Damn the little witch! She already had Jason wrapped around her finger. "Jason, you're a fool if you believe half of what she says," Dominic said in disgust. "She knows well enough where to find Durham."

When Jason remained silent, Dominic's raking gaze sliced back to Brie. "My dear Miss
Carringdon
," he said as if their discussion had become a wearying bore, "I'm afraid I find your reasoning a bit difficult to accept—although certainly it is more plausible than your protestations of innocence. Nothing you may do or say, however, will sway me. I strongly recommend that you give up this foolishness and go home, but of course if you choose to visit your
grandfather, that
is your affair. I warn you,
though,
I do not relish being hounded. And now," Dominic added implacably, "do you need assistance mounting your horse?"

For a long moment, Brie stared at him, as if unwilling to accept his answer. Then finally she lowered her gaze and shook her head. She had lost her desperate gamble. Dominic hated her and there was nothing more to be said. When he leaned over to open the door, she gathered up her shredded dignity and climbed down, suddenly feeling very weary.

She gave Dominic one last wistful glance as she tossed her pistol on the seat beside him. "You may need that, my lord. If you are made uncomfortable by my hounding, you may shoot me. But," she added, "take care to check the priming first."

When she had retrieved her horse, the coach at once sprang into motion. Jason waited until they were moving at a steady pace again before speaking. "Miss
Carringdon's
methods may be a bit unusual, Dominic, but her motives seemed plausible enough."

Dominic's eyes narrowed as he shot an irritated glance at his friend. "What did you want me to do, invite her to come along?"

"What I want doesn't signify. You were a little hard on her, don't you think?"

Dominic turned to stare out the window. "I was hoping to convince her to go home."

Jason leaned across and picked up Brie's pistol. "I wonder if she knows how to use this," he said, examining the weapon.

Dominic snorted. "She knows, alright. I've seen her shoot a man at point blank range and not even hesitate."

Ignoring Jason's raised eyebrow, Dominic settled back to resume his nap, but he was hindered in his attempt to sleep by Jason's slow chuckle. "I fail to see any cause for humor," Dominic growled, prying one eye open to glare.

"You will, my friend, when you look at this pistol. It is unloaded."

Both Dominic's eyes flew open as he sat up.
"That witless little fool!
When I get my hands on her I'll—" Catching Jason's curious stare, Dominic clamped his mouth shut.

"Yes, what will you do?"

"Never mind."
A grim expression hardened his features as he settled back again and pretended to go to sleep.

Brie did not go home. Dominic's unwillingness to believe her had only made her more determined than ever to prove her innocence—or at the very least, to vindicate her mother.

By the time she reached Dover, however, she was to the point of regretting her decision to follow Dominic. Having had little sleep the night before, she was exhausted from long hours in the saddle, as well as cold and hungry. For the moment she wanted nothing more than a hot bath, a warm meal, and a soft bed. When she halted her hired mount in the busy yard of The George, however, Brie hesitated. The George
wasa
respectable- looking inn that promised to offer all the comforts her weary body craved, but if she were to find transportation across the channel for tomorrow, she knew she ought to book passage tonight. With a regretful glance at the inn, she turned her horse toward the docks.

Dusk was settling over the town as she made her way through the nearly deserted streets. Except for the clattering of her mount's hooves on the cobblestones and the dull murmur of the sea in the distance, the evening was quiet. Brie shivered as a cold wind whipped at her cloak. Hunching her shoulders against the chill, she pulled her hat down further to shield her face.

As she neared the quay, she found another reason for discomfort. Lounging in the doorways and roaming the docks were small groups of fishermen and sailors who looked as if they would
onjoy
nothing more than a drunken brawl. Cursing herself for a fool and wishing she had kept her pistol, Brie urged her mount into a trot. She had no protection except the anonymity her hat and cloak provided, and that would hardly serve if she were to meet with any kind of trouble.

She was very glad to find the shipping office. Keeping her head well down to hide her face, she dismounted and tethered her horse in front of the building, then entered quickly. The clerk behind the desk gave her an odd look when he realized she was a woman, but he accepted her money without argument when she requested passage to France on the first available packet.

Brie was smiling at his dubious expression as she left the office, but when she reached the street, she halted in confusion. Her horse was nowhere in sight.

Smothering a wave of panic, she forced herself to think. The shipping office would at least be safer than the dimly lit street, she realized. She was about to retrace her steps when she heard footsteps behind her. Whirling, she just managed to evade the rough hands that grabbed at her, but her heart leapt to her throat as she faced four unkempt sailors who reeked strongly of liquor.

"We wants
yer
purse, cove," one said as all four slowly started to close in on her.

Terrified, Brie took a step backward, then another, watching them warily. She knew they could smell her fear, for she could hear her own heart pounding. She was wondering if she should turn and run when, at a signal from the first man, they all rushed her at once.

Brie struck out wildly, trying hopelessly to evade their grasping hands. Her hat was knocked from her head during the struggle, sending her hair tumbling around her shoulders.

"Bloody 'ell, it's a woman!" the leader exclaimed.

Brie gave a cry of mingled pain and outrage as his hand groped her breast. She brought a knee up hard, contacting his groin and causing him to double over in pain, then looked around desperately for something to use as a weapon.

There was nothing. She caught a glimpse of a dark horseman further down the street just as another of her assailants grabbed her, but when a fist struck her face, she saw stars. She would have fallen but for the rough hands holding her.

Then abruptly, the scene dissolved in a whirl. Brie heard the ring of steel-shod hooves on cobblestone and vaguely realized that the horseman had ridden his mount directly into the fray. There were grunts of surprise from her attackers,
then
howls of pain as the horseman lifted his arm time and time again to bring his riding quirt down on the shoulders of the men who held her.

When their grasping hands released her, Brie's legs gave way and she sank to the pavement. She knelt there, sobbing and gasping for breath as her attackers fled.

"Did they hurt you?" She recognized the familiar voice—and tone. It was clipped and harsh and implacable. Brie shook her head, not daring to look at her rescuer.

"Then I suggest," Dominic said caustically, "that unless you enjoy being ravished, you seek safer ground. Where is your horse?" At Brie's mumbled reply, Dominic barked the question again.

"I don't know!" she cried, tears coursing down her cheeks as she glared up at him. He sat his horse easily, his whip resting across the saddle. Seeing his casual pose, Brie wanted to scream. She was shaking with fright, her pride was in tatters, and her nerves were frayed almost to the breaking point—and all he could do was
berate
her in that hateful, sardonic tone. At that moment she firmly believed she hated Dominic. It was bad enough that he should find her such a defenseless position, but his contemptuous tone made her humiliation complete. She bowed her head and started crying in earnest.

Dominic muttered a soft curse as he dismounted and scooped her trembling form into his arms. He ignored her halfhearted struggles, easily thwarting her attempts to break free, and when she at last lay still, he set her on his horse and mounted behind her, wrapping an arm securely around her waist. Brie sagged limply against him and wept, having lost the strength and the will to fight him further.