A Woman of Love Page 3

  A chill ran down James’ spine. “Why didn’t you tell me when you first arrived?”

  “I knew he would tire of me. I was planning to run away, but I left it too late. I was so shocked at this—this arrangement—and then you were so…so distracting…”

  “Distracting?” He raised an eyebrow.

  “You have all that long hair and that beard, you’re intimidating. You made me want…and I can’t remember the last time I wanted…I didn’t understand, but when I woke up I knew. His intention was obvious. You have to let me go, please.”

  A kaleidoscope of thoughts bombarded him. Annabel, a victim, a mother, not a criminal, her daughter, a child. Peters had threatened a child. Threatened Annabel. He focused on that thought. He hadn’t only threatened her. Elliott had forced her into his bed. Rage burned through his body into his mind. A killing rage. Peters had hurt his woman, and Annabel was his. It didn’t matter that he hardly knew her, didn’t matter what circumstances had brought her here. She was here now and she belonged to him. So did her child.

  “You have to let me go.” Annabel’s plea brought him back to the moment. She sat on the couch with her face down, her beautiful honey-coloured hair tucked behind her ears. He still didn’t know if her eyes were blue or green. In fact, she was almost a complete mystery. But somehow he didn’t think she would take kindly to being told she belonged to him. Wasn’t that exactly what Peters had done? Besides, once Beth was safe he would use their attraction to one another to persuade her to stay. Until then he would do his best to ensure mother and daughter survived, unscathed.

  It had been instilled into him from an early age that a true gentleman protected those who could not protect themselves. Even if he hadn’t been attracted to Annabel he would not have turned his back. But his reaction to her made him determined to help. Now, all he had to do was convince her she needed his aid.

  “What will you do if I let you go?”

  “Beth is at our house in Windsor. I’m going to sneak in there, get her, and the money I have hidden, and then go to Portsmouth.”

  “Is the house guarded?”

  “Yes, Elliott always has men around.”

  “Are they armed?”

  “Of course.”

  “How are you going to slip past them?”

  “I haven’t quite worked out all the details.” She tucked her knees to her chest, curling into a protective ball.

  Thank God, she had confided in him. If he hadn’t caught her trying to escape then she would be facing Peters’ thugs alone. Images of their hands tearing at her flesh, flashed through his mind causing a cold sweat to trickle down his spine. He had slaughtered many men in his life for no other reason than they were on the other side of the battlefield. For the first time he had a good reason to kill.

  He tugged her toward the stairs. “Come on. I’m going with you.”

  ****

  “It’s almost sunrise. We have to go.”

  “Where are we going?” Annabel followed James down a dirt path into the woods that surrounded the back of the estate. He had found an old, dark green walking dress for her to wear. It was a little big at the waist, but it was practical, and modest. After last night she would never be able to see herself as modest again. She was bewitched by the way he walked. Every stride, every sinew showed off his physique. She had become his personal Jezebel. Never in her life had she imagined going to bed with a man she didn’t know. At the beginning of the night, she would not have expected to share her story with him, but she had. And now he was helping her. Was she behaving like a fool for believing in him? Perhaps, but she didn’t think so. There was something about him, a directness that inspired confidence. She had faith in him, and for the first time since meeting Elliott she had hope.

  Was there any chance that James would want her after tonight? No, they had shared a passionate night together, but that didn’t mean he anticipated a future with her. If anything it meant the opposite. Men, in her limited experience, liked women who didn’t indulge in their desires in the arms of a man they barely knew. And he was proving to be a man with strong morals. Would a decent, respectable man ever consider a life with her? How could he? Even if James could forgive her for bedding him, when she hardly knew him, what about her husband? Could he forgive her for going to Elliott’s bed even though they were married, and she’d had no choice? No, she was sullied. Spoiled goods. Once they had freed Beth, he would politely help her on her way and that would be the end of it, and she would spend the rest of her life grieving for him.

  “Tell me everything from the beginning. Start with Beth’s father,” he said, interrupting her thoughts.

  “My husband, my real husband, Robert, died of consumption two years ago. We had a comfortable life. He owned four narrow boats, you know, barges. They gave us a good income.”

  “When and how did you meet Elliott?” He tugged her hand, making her run to keep up.

  “One day, about two months ago, he came to see me in our house, by the river in Windsor. He wanted the boats.”

  “So he made you an offer.”

  “He never mentioned money. He made some vulgar remarks about my appearance, and he said we would be doing a lot of business together.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “The next day he came back with three thugs. Two of them grabbed Beth. Elliott held a knife to her throat.” Her voice cracked. It had been the worst day of her life, and had marked the start of a nightmare she was still embroiled in. James’ warm hand squeezed hers, offering silent support. “Elliott said she would be safe if I did what he wanted.”

  “So you married him?”

  “Yes.”

  “And he became the new owner of the boats.”

  “Yes, but that doesn’t matter. I don’t care about them, only Beth.”

  They had reached the edge of the woods. There was a steep ditch in front of them, and beyond that a narrow dirt road.

  “Where are we going?” She inched down the incline on her behind.

  “There have been a number of robberies all of them along the River Thames. We believe Lord Peters is behind them. The plan was to have time with you alone, question you, and then have you lead us to his warehouse to recover the goods. I have a carriage waiting.”

  “So us—what we…”

  He stopped at the bottom of the ditch and hooked her chin with his thumb and forefinger, forcing her to look him in the eye.

  “That was never my intent. I couldn’t seem…” His gaze held a mix of acceptance and regret, neither of which she wanted to see. She couldn’t accept that he had bedded her to discover Elliott’s secrets, even if it was the truth. And she didn’t want him to regret what had happened between them. She wanted to hold it close, and draw on the memory in years to come. She turned away and grabbed a bush, using it to lever herself up, and out of the gully. Now wasn’t the time to dwell on her future without him. She had to concentrate on the present so she could save her daughter.

  “So if you planned this, why isn’t the carriage at your house? Why are we trekking through the countryside?”

  “Believe it or not, this way is quicker. The road from the front of the house takes you through the town. We save hours going this way.”

  “How did you get the scars? It must have been very painful,” she asked, standing, and brushing the dirt from her skirt. She knew she was being rude, but she needed the distraction. This was all taking far too long. She wanted to be back at the house with Beth. Now. This minute.

  “Don’t you know it’s impolite to ask a question like that?”

  She shrugged. “We’ve talked about my life, let’s talk about yours.”

  “There’s nothing to tell.”

  “I don’t believe that. I’m trusting you with my daughter’s life, but all I know about you is that you’re a scarred man who lives in an empty house with no servants, and for no reason I can understand, you own women’s clothes.”

  He smiled, and she could see the man he once
was, young, carefree, and beautiful. Then his gaze became dull and lifeless. Was he remembering something he’d rather forget? He turned his back, and started walking again. Over his shoulder he said, “The clothes were my mother’s. She died five years ago. She believed being rich and privileged meant you were obligated to improve the lives of others. She was quite the crusader. She abhorred those who prey on children. I know she was disappointed in the man I became.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “Because it’s true. How can a woman who loathed violence be proud of a son who was a soldier?”

  “I’d be proud of you if you were my son.”

  “You would?”

  “Yes, you’re using your strength to help us. That has to count for something.”

  “Maybe.”

  They lapsed into silence, and Annabel knew if she didn’t press he wouldn’t tell her anymore. “And the scars?”

  “They’re nothing.” He picked up the pace. She wasn’t sure if he was trying to escape her or his memories.

  “They don’t look like nothing,” she panted, trying to keep up.

  “I was at the battle of Balaclava,” he said, bluntly.

  “Something happened there, didn’t it?”

  “It was a battle. War happened. I was a soldier, an officer.”

  “And?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “All right,” she agreed

  “War is a lot messier than you would think. You have to do things…I became an animal. I destroyed men. After a while I learned to kill swiftly without causing additional pain. I deluded myself into thinking I was being more humane, but in truth, the only person I was being kind to was myself.”

  He continued to march ahead of her, forcing her to speed up.

  “How’s that?”

  “I didn’t have to hear their screams when they died, and somehow that made it less ugly. My commanding officer would say I survived because I’m an excellent soldier who was good at annihilating the enemy. What does it say about me when the only thing I’ve ever been any good at is killing? The scars are hideous. They show the man I am on the inside.”

  “That’s not true. They hide the man you are.” She slowed her pace, glad he was a few steps in front of her. She wanted to comfort him, to tell him he was a good man but couldn’t. She knew if she spoke at that moment her voice would break not because she felt sorry for him, but because of everything he had lost. The things he had been asked to do for his country, and the man he had become to accomplish them, had hurt him far more than any wound she could see.

  They rounded a bend, and came to an abrupt stop. In the middle of the road stood a man holding a rifle.

  Chapter Six

  In the half-light before dawn, the figure loomed like a menacing apparition. Annabel grabbed James’ arm, thankful he was with her. It was hard to believe they had known each other for less than a day. She already trusted him, and felt safer with him by her side.

  “Damn it, Nicholas, why didn’t you tell me she had a daughter?” James barked.

  There was a striking resemblance between James and the stranger; both were tall and broad, with the same dark hair. Their facial features were so similar they could have been twins except the newcomer was clean-shaven, his hair clipped short, and his face unscarred. But where James was intense and brooding, this newcomer had a relaxed smile that was reassuring.

  “Don’t smile at her,” James snapped. He turned to Annabel “He’s at his most dangerous when he grins like that. The only time you can trust him is when he’s growling.”

  “Did you say a daughter?” Nicholas cut in, ignoring James’ gibe. His smile had vanished.

  “You didn’t know?”

  “No. I took her at face value. She was always so aloof. A beautiful young woman…How can you be sure she’s telling the truth? Everyone believes she wants the money and status. She married a lord, for God’s sake.”

  “She doesn’t want the money. She wants to keep her daughter alive. Are you going to help us or not?”

  They were facing off like two prize rams about to butt heads. As much as Annabel appreciated James’ faith in her, she couldn’t afford the delay. Something in the back of her mind, a tingle of cold fear, warned her, she had to reach Beth. Immediately.

  “Shut up both of you.” She forced her way between them. “None of this is important.” She turned to Nicholas. “Do you have transportation?”

  “Around the next bend.” Nicholas nodded toward another curve in the road.

  Without waiting for them she ran, and was gratified when they followed. Annabel climbed inside the open carriage. James sat opposite while Nicholas took up the reins, goading the horses to a gallop.

  “This crafty beggar is my brother, Nicholas Carlton of Carlton Investigations,” James shouted to be heard above the noise of the speeding coach.

  “His illegitimate brother,” Nicholas said over his shoulder.

  “Why do you need to point that out?”

  “Because it’s obvious. She would have noticed. We have different last names.”

  “Nobody cares.”

  “They do. It’s you who doesn’t care.”

  They were bickering again. Good God. How were they ever going to save Beth if they couldn’t stop fighting?

  “At this moment, I don’t care,” Annabel announced.

  “See.” James needed the last word, like a five-year-old arguing over a toy.

  “Once Beth is safe in my arms you can revert to being young boys if that’s what you want, but for now I expect you to behave like grown men.”

  She glared at James who stared out over the lush, green fields and hedgerows of the Berkshire countryside. She suspected he was trying not to smile. A glance at Nicholas’ back made her imagine he was doing the same.

  Nicholas gained control first. “What’s your daughter’s name?”

  “Beth.”

  “How old is she? Will she be able to run for help if we need it?”

  “I doubt it. She’s only three years old.”

  James slipped his warm hand into hers, and gave it a comforting squeeze.

  “Where is she now?” Nicholas asked.

  “When I left she was at the house on the river Thames, in Windsor.”

  “He probably needed your boats to transport the stolen goods upcountry and sell them there,” James said more to himself than anyone else.

  Glancing over his shoulder Nicholas said, “Do you have a plan?”

  “We’ll need to be quiet and quick. Have you reconnoitered the property?”

  “Yes, there are five men including Peters. Two at the front, and two at the back. Peters is normally inside.”

  James addressed Annabel. “Would you agree with that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where would Beth be in the house?” Nicholas asked.

  “The back bedroom on the third floor.”

  “The servants’ quarters?”

  “Yes.”

  James nodded.

  “You’ll find weapons under the seat,” Nicholas said.

  James crouched down, and dragged out a large wooden chest. He grabbed a shotgun and two pistols, cocked, and loaded them. He propped the shotgun against the seat, pointing away from them, and tucked a pistol in his belt. The minute he touched the guns he changed. His body tensed, his lips formed a grim line, and his gaze turned cold and remote. He was preparing to kill again. She wished there was another way, wished she didn’t have to ask him to relive his nightmare, but she couldn’t lose her daughter. She was willing to sacrifice anything, including herself, and any hope of a future with James, to save Beth’s life.

  They entered the cobblestone streets of Windsor as the sun rose above the dark, forbidding silhouette of Windsor Castle.

  Chapter Seven

  They rode by a line of red brick houses that backed onto the river. The homes looked so normal, so middle-class.

  “Mine’s the last one.” Annabel pointed
to a black front door with a polished brass knocker at the east end of the row. Delicate lace curtains hung at the windows. Before Peters took it over it had been a home. James suspected it now operated as the fortified base for a network of thieves.

  Nicholas stopped the carriage two hundred yards from the house giving James a clear view of the guards. A man with grey hair sat on the front steps reading a newspaper. He seemed casual, relaxed. A thick walking stick by his side was undoubtedly a weapon, and a slight bulge under his jacket probably a pistol. Two other thugs stood at the bottom of the steps, one with a black cap, and another in a dark red waistcoat. They were laughing and joking, like old friends who’d bumped into each other on the street.

  Annabel started to climb out of the carriage, but James grabbed her hand, and tugged her back.

  “The only reason I’m allowing you to come along is so you can calm your daughter. You are to stay behind me. Only go where I tell you to go. Do you understand?”

  Part of him wished he could whisk her away and protect her from the imminent fight. He wanted to stop her from seeing the violent side of him, but it was no use. Sooner, or later she would learn of the darkness that lived in his soul, and then he would lose her. Perhaps it was better she discover who he truly was, now, before his affection deepened.

  She nodded her agreement.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll reach her in time.” He kissed her forehead, her skin cool under his lips. Why did he feel the need to comfort her? He had no reassurance her daughter was well, all he had was hope. In the Crimea, men with hope tended to live and those without died. It was that simple. He would believe he could save Beth because he needed Annabel to see him as a man who was more than a disfigured shell. He wanted her respect and love. Damn. He needed it. What would happen once this was over? Would she leave with her daughter? That was a chance he had to take. Saving Beth meant Annabel wouldn’t need him, and she would be free to leave.

  James abandoned that line of thought. It was useless to think about what could, would, or might be. He had to keep his mind on the present and focus on the assignment.