Buch lesen: «The Tantalizing Miss Coale»

She recognised him as soon as she walked into the inn. There could be no mistaking those piercing blue eyes and thick brown hair, or the strong lines of his cheeks and jaw, even when masked by several days’ growth of beard. Memories swamped her and her step faltered. Once again she was in his arms, revelling in the passion of his kiss, loving him and knowing she was loved in return.

Before she had made him hate her.

He was seated on the far side of the coffee room and looked up as she passed the open door. His expression did not change and she hoped—prayed—he had not recognised her. She was wrapped in her cloak with the hood pulled up against the rain. Surely she was safe?

‘Serena my dear, please do not tarry here where everyone can see you!’

She forced herself back to the present, fighting down the irritation at being addressed by her real name. No one called her Serena now, save her father when he was angry with her. She had been known as Sally since she was a child, when her brothers had decided that she was misnamed—no one was less serene than little Serena Coale, whose high spirits were always getting her in trouble.

Schooling her face into a smile she turned to her companion.

‘I beg your pardon, Henry.’

He placed his hand on her back, moving her past the open doorway of the coffee room and toward the stairs.

‘Please, keep your hood up,’ he hissed as she put her hands to her head. ‘I do not want to risk anyone recognising you, when I have been at pains to conceal our true identities.’

Obediently she bowed her head as they followed the landlord up to the first floor and into a small, panelled room.

‘This is your sitting room, sir. And these doors lead to the bedchambers for yourself and your lady.’ He indicated two doors on opposite sides of the room.

As far from each other as possible, she thought with a tiny ripple of relief.

‘Yes, yes, we will find our way around, thank you.’ Sir Henry waved him away. ‘Have a truckle bed made up in my wife’s room for one of your chambermaids. Mrs. Woods’ dresser broke her leg just before we left London and she will require—’

‘No,’ Sally interrupted him. ‘No, that will not be necessary.’ She treated Sir Henry to a blinding smile. ‘My love, you know that I am quite capable of managing for myself while we are travelling.’

Sir Henry waved the landlord away, saying as the door closed behind him, ‘Really, Serena, I am trying to protect your reputation!’

‘It was your idea that we should travel as man and wife,’ she replied, removing her cloak. ‘Mr. and Mrs. Woods. I suppose it is more imaginative than Smith.’

‘It would not have been necessary if you had brought your entourage. We could have said I was escorting you to visit family....’

‘And you know full well that all the servants at Markham are so fearful of Papa that we would never have escaped if I had taken any one of them into my confidence!’

‘Hmph. We could have hired a maid.’

‘Truly, Henry, it is of no consequence.’

‘But your reputation—’

She gave a crooked little smile.

‘I fear my reputation will be ruined anyway, once word gets out.’

Henry reached out for her hand.

‘My dear—’

‘I am very hungry,’ she said quickly. ‘Perhaps you could order dinner for us as soon as may be.’

‘Of course. I shall do so now, my dear, and have it brought up immediately.’

She watched him hurry away and gave a sigh. Dear Henry. So kind, so compliant. So...boring. She rubbed her arms. Could she go through with this? Marriage to a man she did not love? It was better than the alternative.

Shaking off her melancholy she picked up her bandbox and portmanteau, and carried them across to one of the bedchambers. She dropped her bags just inside the door and backed out again.

‘So, it is you.’

The deep male voice made her jump round with a little scream.

A tall, great-coated figure filled the doorway. He looked more alarming now than when she had first seen him in the crowded coffee room. His dark hair fell long and loose over his collar and a dark growth of beard covered the lower part of his face. There was no hint of warmth in his intensely blue eyes. Her anxiety was increased by the fact that he was leaning against the doorframe, his arms folded across his broad chest in a manner at once insolent and intimidating.

She lifted her chin.

‘Ben Hensley.’ She cast a slow, appraising glance over him. ‘You seem to have come down in the world, sir.’

He pushed himself away from the door and came toward her. She resisted the urge to retreat.

I have been travelling,’ he replied, adding, with the quirk of one dark eyebrow, ‘You, however, seem to have sunk even lower, Mrs. Woods.’

She flushed. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘The same as everyone else, I imagine. Sheltering for the night. I had hoped to reach York but the weather closed in.’ He took another step toward her. ‘How long has it been, Sal, two years?’

Two years, three months and one week—she would not admit she knew to the day how long it was since she had last seen him.

‘You should not be here,’ she said. ‘Please leave me.’

‘And who is going to make me? That fop of a husband?’

‘Do not underestimate Henry,’ she replied quickly. ‘He is very...correct.’

He reached for her. ‘Then let us give him a reason to call me out.’

Too late did she realise what he was going to do. Even as she turned to step away, he grasped her wrist and pulled her close. His arms enfolded her, trapping her against him.

‘Let me go!’

In vain she pounded her fists against his chest. His only response was to laugh.

‘You were wont to enjoy my caresses, Sally. Sal, Salutation...’ She lifted her head to protest and he swooped down, capturing her mouth. His kiss was fierce and savage. She froze. She wanted to fight him off, but first she had to overcome the violent bolt of desire that shot through her. His coat smelled of the damp night. There was a trace of salt in his kiss and on his skin, but beneath it all was a familiar tang that set her pulse racing, just as it always had. His kiss deepened. Her mouth opened at his insistence and he was plundering her senses, awakening responses she had thought dead.

And so they should be.

With immense effort she pushed her hands against his chest, breaking contact, turning her face away.

‘How dare you!’ she was shaking with fury. As he let her go, she lifted her hand and brought it crashing against his cheek. The impact jarred her wrist, but although he flinched the mocking smile did not falter.

* * *

It was all Ben could do to keep his smile in place. He had to call upon his training as an intelligence officer to help him, hiding his emotions, playing a role. Inside he was reeling. Not from the slap, although he was sure the force of it would leave its mark, but it was nothing to the tumult raging through his body and his mind. He had kissed her to punish her and to prove to himself she no longer had any power over him. Instead, as soon as he had captured her lips the old feelings came back, stronger than ever. He was a boy again, in love for the first time. His body had responded immediately and if she had not pushed him off her the physical evidence of his arousal would have given him away. Now she glared at him and he held her eyes, determined to keep the upper hand, to conceal just how she had shaken him.

‘Get out,’ she ordered. ‘Get out before I scream for the landlord and have you thrown out!’

‘Would you do that to me, Sal?’ His eyes narrowed, laughter glinting in their blue depths. ‘I will leave on one condition.’

She bit her lip, determined not to ask the question, but her face betrayed her. He continued, ‘You will meet me tonight. There is a small orchard at the back of the inn. I will be there at midnight, waiting for you.’

He let her go and she made a great play of shaking out her skirts.

‘Then you will wait in vain.’

I think not,’ he said softly. ‘If you do not appear then I shall come knocking at your door. We will see how you explain my presence to...Henry.’

Smiling, he ran one finger along her cheek. His very touch burned her skin and she shrugged him away. She saw the flash of white teeth through the black growth of beard. Piratical.

‘Midnight,’ he murmured. ‘Do not be late.’

He sauntered to the door, his greatcoat swinging jauntily as he walked. The next moment she was alone.

With a small sob Sally flung herself down on a chair. She was trembling and unusually tearful at having her memories ripped up so violently by a man who should have been dead to her. A hasty step sounded outside the door. Was he coming back? She tensed as if in anticipation of a blow, only to experience a searing disappointment when Henry came in.

‘That rascally landlord wanted to charge me extra for having our meal sent up. If he knew who I was he would not dare—my dear you are looking very pale. Has the journey been too much for you?’

‘I am a little tired.’ She forced a smile. ‘I shall be better once we have had something to eat.’

Yet, when at last Henry led her to the table, her appetite had disappeared.

* * *

The razor rasped as it cut a swathe through the black hair covering Ben’s cheek. It had become his habit to leave the beard in place until he reached his home. In his line of work a rough, bearded traveller attracted little attention, but Sally’s look of disdain had touched his pride. He had called for hot water to be sent up, and with the aid of extra candles and a cracked mirror, he set about making himself presentable.

Over a mug of ale in the taproom he had learned that the servants thought little of Mr. and Mrs. Woods. Merchant types, they said, trying to ape their betters with separate bedchambers for husband and wife. Odd, that. Would the Honourable Serena Coale, a Viscount Markham’s daughter, stoop so low as to marry a merchant?

If she loved him.

The thought speared through Ben, making his hand shake, and the razor nicked his skin. Damnation, he had not expected to feel like this. Serena Coale was dead to him, or she should be.

Remember the tears, Ben. Remember the humiliation.

But still the idea of her marrying that foppish merchant rankled. Hell, he might not have a title, but his family was connected to some of the most prestigious in the land and his fortune was not inconsiderable. If she could cast him aside as unworthy, what, then did a mere Mr. Woods have to offer?

* * *

When he made his way to the orchard at midnight, his face was clean-shaven and his hair brushed and caught back at the nape of his neck with a black velvet ribbon. A snow white cravat and fresh linen shirt completed the transformation from journeyman to gentleman traveller. Not, perhaps, as fashionable as that overdressed popinjay she had come in with, and nothing like the young buck he had been when they first met. Then he had been full of dreams for the future. Would she remember that? Ben’s stomach churned. Of course not. Yet she had responded when he kissed her. For one, brief, heady moment she had been yielding and pliant in his arms, bringing all the old memories flooding back to him. And the pain.

‘You are a fool, Ben Hensley,’ he muttered as he buttoned up his silk waistcoat. ‘You should stay away from her. She punished you once. That should be enough.’

But it wasn’t. Seeing her again so unexpectedly had caught him off guard. That was why she had affected him so badly when he kissed her. But he had to be sure. He had to prove she no longer had the power to hurt him.

* * *

The orchard was silent, save for the soft wind sighing through the trees, and a full moon hung overhead, bathing the world in a soft silver-blue light. A cloaked figure was moving back and forth between the trees. At his approach she swung round to face him.

‘I cannot stay long,’ she whispered. ‘Tell me what you want of me.’

He stepped closer. It gave him some satisfaction to know that she was nervous. He was in control now, and he would punish her, just a little.

‘Everything you promised me.’

Her eyes were huge and dark in her heart-shaped face. His heart turned over; by heaven she was as beautiful as ever!

‘Th-that was mere foolishness. A childish romance.’

He reached up and pushed back her hood. In the daylight her hair was brown, deep and rich as polished mahogany, but now it gleamed black in the moonlight. More memories flooded in. Stolen kisses at midnight, the feel of her silky hair between his fingers...

‘We plighted our troth, don’t you remember?’ He picked up one of her curls, murmuring, ‘Sal. Salvation...’

She pushed his hand away.

‘Do not say that!’

‘What would you have me call you, Salacious? Salome...’

‘I am nothing to you.’

She turned from him but he caught her wrist, pulling her back. They were standing very close and he was painfully aware of her rapid breathing. Her cloak had fallen open and as her breast rose and fell the thin silk of her bodice came within a hair’s breadth of his chest. He felt desire stirring again within him. It took all his willpower not to put his arms about her and crush her against his hardened body. He muttered savagely, ‘You were everything to me!’

A look of pain flitted across her face. She put her hand up defensively. ‘If I hurt you I am very sorry for it.’

‘Sorry? How magnanimous—I still bear the scars!’

‘I told you at the time I had mistaken my feelings for you.’

‘Only a desperate flirt would lead a man on in that way.’

He watched the long lashes sweep down.

‘Then that is what I must be.’

The words were no louder than the breeze stirring the leaves.

He pulled her closer, using his anger to subdue the treacherous desire that threatened to overpower him.

‘I worshipped you, do you remember? We were going to be married. Can you deny you wanted me then? But I held back, I resisted the temptation, although you were warm and eager in my arms. I dreamed of the day I would make you my wife, when I could take you to my bed and make love to you— ‘

‘Stop it!’ The distress in her voice was too much for him and he released her. As soon as he loosened his grip she turned away. ‘It was not to be.’

‘Your father thought I was not good enough,’ he said bitterly. ‘I was always aware of that, from the first time I visited Markham.’