Scoundrel Ever After (Secrets and Scandals) Page 5

  She exhaled, then went over to the window. Her long fingers parted the curtains and she looked down. He remembered those fingers entwined with his when she’d taught him to waltz. He longed for those fingers—

  She dropped the curtain and abruptly turned. “He’s back.”

  MR. LOCKE SWORE again. He swore an awful lot, more than any other gentleman of her acquaintance, but then she had to consider whether he was truly a gentleman. She wouldn’t really know unless he unveiled his secrets, and since she wasn’t willing to share hers, she couldn’t blame him for guarding his.

  He climbed out of bed, grimacing in pain as he pushed himself to his feet.

  She rushed to his side. “Let me help you.”

  “We need to leave. Now.”

  “Sit, I’ll get the rest of the clothing.” She hurried to the chair and grabbed what the innkeeper’s wife had found besides the shirt—a coat, a cravat, and fresh stockings. She handed him the latter and then realized he couldn’t put them on with his wounded arm. Taking them back, she kneeled before him and pulled the first one onto his left leg. She tried not to pay any attention to his bare calf. Or the fact that her bare fingers were touching that calf. Mostly, she tried not to pay attention to how much she enjoyed it.

  When both of his stockings were on, she went to grab his boots, which were at the end of the bed. She set them before his feet and helped him draw them on.

  “This is bloody awkward,” he breathed. He stood up from the bed and worked to tuck in the hem of his shirt. “Go and see if he’s still outside.”

  She went to the window and looked back down into the courtyard. “There are two men on horses, but neither one of them is the Runner. There are also two empty horses being held by a groom.”

  Another curse, this one quite colorful. “Help me with the coat.”

  She dashed to assist him, again guiding his right arm into the sleeve. “The innkeeper’s wife didn’t have a waistcoat.” Belatedly, she realized she could’ve given him the waistcoat she’d been wearing, but after Audrey removing her purse from the pants, she’d traded the costume to the innkeeper’s wife for the garments she was now wearing. She’d also borrowed a needle and thread, and had stitched the small purse to the top of her stocking. On second thought, her waistcoat wouldn’t have fit his broad shoulders.

  With his one good arm, he wrapped the cravat around his neck so that it hung loose. “Do you know where the back stairs are?”

  “I don’t.”

  He grasped her hand and pierced her with his devastating gray stare. “Tell me everything you know about this establishment. How many doors, how many floors, how many people might be about.”

  She swallowed. He was looking at her so . . . expectantly. No, that wasn’t wholly accurate. There was an intensity about him, the same he’d displayed last night in every situation they’d encountered. Again, she wondered about his true nature.

  She searched her brain for whatever details she could recall from their late arrival the previous night, or rather, quite early this morning. “There’s a door to the rear yard. But I don’t know another way downstairs besides the main staircase—we’re on the second floor.”

  He’d gone to the window while she’d explained what she knew. “Is it a large inn? How many rooms?” He pulled back the curtain and swore violently. He spun about and marched toward her. “Time to go.” He snagged her elbow and propelled her toward the door.

  She went along, her veins icing at the desperation in his tone. It wasn’t fear, but he was clearly anxious to leave. Which made her anxious.

  He paused in the corridor. “Which way?”

  “Right.”

  Voices sounded from that direction—not close, but there nonetheless.

  “Left, then.” He let go of her elbow and strode down the hallway. His boots made very little sound as he moved, and his gait reminded her of a cat stalking its prey—soft, but surefooted. “You didn’t answer me before. Is this a large inn?”

  “I suppose. I think she said they had ten rooms of varying size?”

  “They must have a servant staircase.” He stopped at a door and cracked it open. Then pulled it closed. He moved to the next one, on the opposite side of the hallway from the first, and did the same. Again, he closed the door and moved on. At the third door, he pushed it wider. She came up behind him and saw that it was a narrow staircase.

  He glanced back at her. “Quietly,” he whispered, bringing his finger to his lips.

  Light from a small window illuminated the stairs. He descended swiftly, but stealthily. She closed the door behind her and followed close on his heels, trying to keep her steps as light as his. They reached the door at the bottom. He pulled it open slowly until the barest gap separated the door’s edge and the frame. He peered through the slim space.

  Audrey’s breath hitched, her ears strained to pick up the faintest sound, and sweat dotted the back of her neck.

  He angled his head toward her. “Which way is the common room?”

  She thought about the layout. “Left. Maybe thirty feet.”

  He nodded slightly, then pulled the door wide. He grabbed her hand and turned right. He stopped at the first door on the right and turned to look at her. “How much money do you have?”

  “A bit.”

  “Give me a guinea.” He was asking for money at a time like this?

  “A guinea? What for?”

  “Just give me the bloody guinea.”

  She withdrew her hand from his and lifted the skirt of her borrowed dress. Aware she was revealing far more of her leg than she’d ever allowed a gentleman to see, she quickly withdrew the coin from her purse and dropped her skirt. She deposited the guinea into his hand.

  Wordlessly, he curled his fingers around it and opened the door. He tugged her into the chamber, a room slightly larger than the one he’d awakened in upstairs.

  He glanced around the room. “There’s no one here.” Then he rushed toward the window and threw open the sash. “Come on. Quickly.”

  She joined him near the window. “You were expecting someone? It’s nearly noon. I’m sure the traveler left long ago.”

  “Damn, I didn’t realize it was that late. You should’ve said so.”

  She didn’t care for his scolding tone. “Pardon me, but you didn’t ask.”

  He gestured for her to precede him from the window. “Just climb out the window, so we can be on our way.”

  Right. Escape. Or, she could stay here and return to London with the Bow Street Runners. She wanted to know why he was running, but the question died on her tongue when she looked into his eyes. The desperation and anxiety she heard in his voice was mirrored there.

  He muttered something under his breath and clambered out of the window, albeit awkwardly since his arm wouldn’t quite cooperate. Lines of pain creased his face.

  “Wait,” she said softly before following him. She wasn’t going to let him go off alone. Besides, she’d left London with him for a reason. This was the adventure she’d always wanted, the life-changing escapade that would satisfy her soul.

  He lightly massaged his wounded bicep. “Where’s our cab?”

  Technically speaking, it wasn’t their cab, but she didn’t think now was the right time to remind him of that. “It’s in the stables on the other side of the courtyard.” Another foul curse. She couldn’t help herself this time. “You do realize you’re in the presence of a lady?”

  He peered at her askance. There was a subtle lift to his lips. “Who wears gentleman’s garments, stashes money about her person, and can fire a pistol better than most men. Despite all of that, yes, I realize.” He held out his hand. “Are you still with me?”

  She slid her fingers through his. “Yes.”

  “Then let’s go.” He led her from the back yard area to a low stone wall. It took little effort to vault the impediment, but he groaned with the effort nonetheless.

  She hated that he was hurting. “You shouldn’t be out of bed.”


  Once they were both on the other side of the wall, he took her hand again. “I can’t stay back there.”

  “Dare I hope you’ll tell me why at some point?”

  “Something tells me you’ll dare plenty.” The look he threw her was both dark and seductive. It heated the depths of her belly.

  She looked away just as a shout came from behind them—from the inn. They both stopped and turned to look, but didn’t see anyone. There was more shouting, but she couldn’t make out what they were saying.

  He let go of her hand. “We need to run.”

  Without waiting for a response, he took off across the field. She worked to keep up with him, which was difficult in her dress. Why had she changed clothes? If she’d known they were going to be dashing about the countryside, she wouldn’t have. She let go of his hand so she could hike her skirt up and allow her legs more freedom with which to run. And she had to flat out sprint to keep up with him.

  How was he moving so quickly? He’d been grievously injured the night before, and he hadn’t eaten anything today. By all accounts, he should be exhausted and feeble. Instead, he was running as if his life depended on it. Perhaps it did.

  Audrey chanced a look back at the inn and saw a few figures in the rear yard. “I think they’re coming,” she huffed.

  He didn’t turn his head, but increased his pace as he dodged to the left where there was a hedge. He ran along it, and she thought he was trying to find a way through so they could get on the other side in order to shield them from their pursuers.

  At last there was a space where the foliage wasn’t as thick, but it wasn’t really large enough for an adult to fit through. He came to a stop and parted the branches. “Go on.”

  She was breathing heavily, and pitched slightly forward due to the hitch in her side. Unlike him, she’d had a good-sized breakfast a couple of hours ago and she felt every bite of it like a rock in her stomach. “I can’t fit through there, how can you?”

  “Go!” He spoke softly but urgently, and his eyes were the color of winter storm clouds.

  She pushed her hands through to separate the branches and stuck one foot into the shrub. Then he shoved her and she fell on the other side of the hedge in an awkward heap. She clamped her jaw shut lest she voice the jolt of pain in the leg she’d landed on. He came through next, barely sidestepping her before taking off again.

  She pushed herself up and regained her bearings. Dirt and mud clung to her dress, but she didn’t take the time to tidy herself. Mr. Locke was already running toward a building several hundred yards away. She picked up her skirts again, still breathing hard from the last sprint, and took off after him. Light raindrops fell against her bare head, and again she wished she’d retained her gentleman’s clothing, especially the hat.

  It seemed to take a lifetime to finally reach the building, a dilapidated stable belonging to an equally dilapidated cottage situated beyond the stable. Mr. Locke was already inside grabbing implements to . . . saddle a horse? She looked around, but didn’t spy any animal at all, let alone a horse.

  She glanced outside and saw four men running across the field. There was no door to shut and lock, it was just an open doorway. She stepped further into the interior, toward Mr. Locke. “They’ll be here in another minute.”

  He didn’t respond, nor did he look at her. He exited the building through a doorway on the other side. Audrey followed him quickly, her boots kicking the straw and dirt beneath her feet.

  The doorway led to a small enclosure, where a single horse grazed. Mr. Locke was already in the process of bridling the animal. Once he had the bit in the horse’s mouth, he threw a blanket over the beast’s back and finally turned to Audrey. “You can choose to stay. All I ask is that you lead them away from me.”

  “And how shall I do that when I don’t know where you’re—we’re—going?” She considered staying, she would be a fool not to, but the pull of the adventure was too strong. Or perhaps, the pull of her old life was simply nonexistent. “No, I’m going with you.”

  The unmistakable sound of their pursuers entering the stable prevented further conversation. Mr. Locke put his hands together and boosted her onto the horse, then she helped him clamber up behind her. He groaned, and she imagined the movement must have hurt him greatly.

  “Can you take the reins?” he asked against her ear.

  It would be difficult with no saddle to help her keep her seat, but his support helped. “Hold on to me.”

  His arms wrapped around her middle and his chest pressed against her back. She clicked her tongue and dug her knee into the horse’s flanks just as the men came into the yard.

  “Stop, Jagger!” There was that name again.

  The gate to the enclosure wasn’t open. Audrey hadn’t jumped a horse in a long time. “Hold on tight!”

  Mr. Locke’s arms squeezed her midsection as she vaulted over the fence. She felt him slide away from her as they arced over, but then he slammed against her as they hit the ground. She pressed her knee into the horse again and urged her faster. Shouts and curses sounded from behind them, but faded quickly. Exhilaration and joy swept through her as she left their pursuers behind.

  Several minutes later, she allowed the horse to slow to a less frantic gallop.

  “What are you doing?” Mr. Locke asked. His breath tickled her neck. “They’ll go back to the inn and get their horses and continue their pursuit. We need to put as much distance between us and them as possible.”

  “We can’t run the horse that fast indefinitely, best to conserve her energy. Isn’t that right, sweet girl?” Audrey patted the horse’s neck.

  Mr. Locke grunted in response.

  “How’s your arm?” she asked, concerned that he’d reinjured himself with all of that exertion.

  “Awful. But it’s better than the alternative. Where are you going?”

  “I don’t know.” She glanced up at the gray sky, trying to discern the position of the sun and therefore the direction they were headed. The light rain had stopped, but it looked like a stronger downpour might be coming. “North, maybe? It’s going to rain again soon. We should find shelter.”

  “We aren’t stopping. Change direction.”

  She turned the horse west. She was quiet a few minutes, straining to hear if anyone was pursuing them. She knew Mr. Locke had turned his head several times trying to ascertain the same. “Is there anyone coming?” she finally asked.

  “Not yet.”

  She had no idea where they were going, besides vaguely west, maybe southwest actually. There was no sign of a road, but she figured he preferred to stay away from them anyway. “Are you going to tell me why you’re running from Bow Street?”

  “It’s a long story. A misunderstanding.”

  “That’s not terribly reassuring.” Had she fled London with a criminal? It was certainly beginning to seem like it. “You can trust me—haven’t I proven that?”

  “I don’t trust anyone.”

  It was a simple statement, and one that could be disregarded as the declaration of a man who was weary with fatigue and the effects of his wounds. However, his tone reflected a conviction she felt into her bones. “That sounds very lonely.”

  “It is.” His grip around her waist loosened and he sat back from her, though it would’ve been impossible for them to not be touching in some way. His hips were still snug against her backside, and his chest was close enough to her back that she felt his heat.

  She didn’t want him to feel lonely. “Well, you aren’t alone anymore, and I’ll tell you again that you can trust me. I hope you will. However are we going to get on if we can’t trust each other?”

  “Get on? Just what do you think we’re doing?”

  She had no idea, she just knew it was better than what she had been doing. “You have no plan whatsoever, do you? Luckily for you, I do.”

  “You do?” He couldn’t have sounded more incredulous, which suffused Audrey with a mixture of irritation and pride.

  “I
do. We’re about two days from Wootton Bassett.”

  “What’s a Wootton Bassett, some sort of dog?”

  She smiled in spite of the situation—which she had no means of classifying. “No, a town. I know people who live there and we can at least get decent clothing and rest for a while to get you healed. I would prefer to stop sooner, but I doubt you’ll agree to that.”

  “You’re a very smart young woman. The distance of Wootton Bassett from London sounds perfect.” He fell silent a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was low and vibrated through her like a song. “Why are you helping me?”

  As he asked, he sounded equally as incredulous as he had a few minutes ago, but there was something more. There was a disbelieving quality that was perhaps at the root of his distrust. “Because you helped me. You saved me and my grandfather from those men. And you let me come with you.” She felt him shaking his head behind her.

  “Probably a foolish decision.”

  “Why?”

  “You really have to ask?” Scorn laced his tone. “Bow Street is already after me, and now I’ve kidnapped a young lady.”

  “You didn’t kidnap me.”

  “I doubt they’ll see it that way.”

  “They will see it that way. I had the inn post a note to my grandfather telling him I was safe.” She felt him tense behind her and rushed to say, “I didn’t tell him where we were going or who I was with. I’ve made that mistake before.”

  “What?” Was there a bead of respect in his question?

  Her lips curved into the softest of smiles. “I ran away with the blacksmith’s son two years ago.”

  “Good Christ, you didn’t.”

  “I did.” She sighed, exhaling the regret she always felt when she thought of the ill-fated venture. “Unfortunately, I left a note and it didn’t take my parents too long to find us at an inn.”

  “Were you eloping?”

  “No, I wasn’t in love with him, nor was he in love with me. We were friends who wanted different lives. I didn’t want to be married off to some rich lord I didn’t like, and he didn’t want to become a blacksmith.”