Page 3 of The Lady Confesses
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“I don’t wish to say... not where we might be overheard. And in this place, there are eyes and ears everywhere.”
Another shudder raced through her, this one not prompted by the cold. Danger was ever present, and not just from the men who were in pursuit of her. She’d often heard people refer to the rookeries they traveled as cutthroat, and they certainly could be. But she’d never been as frightened there as she was in their current location. The very air around them crackled with menace and danger.
Another step forward, and something sharp stabbed the bottom of her foot, causing her to stumble. She would have given a cry of alarm, but he caught her, his hand covering her mouth once more to muffle any sound.
“Are you badly injured?” He hissed the question next to her ear.
“No. It’s all right. More startled than anything, I think.” Still as they continued to creep forward, she couldn’t deny that it hurt. She tried not to limp, tried to disguise the pain, but she was certain that she was failing miserably.
“It’s just up ahead,” he said, once more keeping his voice pitched low. “That large brick structure with the arched windows.”
It was a warehouse, a massive one from what she could see. The doors and windows were all boarded up, but she could stillsee the arches he’d indicated. But as they neared the building, he didn’t pry the boards from the windows or doors. Instead, with a grace that was somewhat shocking for a man his size, he slipped between the gapped boards that covered the arched opening in front of the doors. Tucked into that small space, he picked the chained lock with some tool or other he’d fished from his pocket.
When the door swung inward, he turned and helped her navigate the boards until she too could ease through into the darkened interior of the building. Once inside, she took a moment. It was quiet. The double layers of brick insulated them from any of the sounds from outside.
“Up those stairs,” he said, pointing to a rickety wooden staircase in the far corner.
Moving as swiftly as she dared in the darkness, Hettie shuffled toward those stairs on her near-frozen and terribly battered feet. Running barefoot through the filthy streets of the Liberty of the Mint was not something she had ever imagined that she would do. Of course, she also hadn’t imagined that she would be the victim of an abduction either. There were many tragedies in her life that had not been foreseen. Her farce of a marriage numbered amongst them. She was hardly alone in that predicament. So many women found themselves married to men who were not as they should be. But then, given what she’d endured for the last two days, was any man what he should be?
Chapter Two
Joss busied himselflighting the stove in the small room. Lady Marchebanks’ bolt hole in the Mint had been quite a find all those months back. That it remained undisturbed was a blessing. There was no food, no provisions. But there was a stove for warmth and blankets. They could get by there till the morning.
Once the fire was blazing inside the little stove, he lit one of the lanterns perched on a table. Then, with light, he turned. What he saw made him curse. She was no longer shivering. Henrietta, Lady Ernsdale, was positively purple with the cold that had seeped through her sodden clothing. Without preamble, he barked a single command. “Strip.”
She looked mutinous for only a split second before making her very best effort to do as instructed. But every attempt to free the buttons of that coarse gown was foiled by her stiff, frozen fingers.
“Damn it all!” Even as he was uttering the curse, he was moving towards her. It had been a very long time since he’d undressed a woman. That he was undressing her now for such very unpleasant reasons did not stop his body from stirring. Even near frozen, dirty from the river, and haunted by what she had endured, Lady Ernsdale was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, her speech sluggish and slurred.
That effectively dampened his ardor. He was beginning to realize just how severely the frigid water had affected her. “It’s the cold,” he explained. “It clouds your brain. It can drive you mad if you cannot get hold of yourself. But first things first, we need to get you warmed up.”
As the rough fabric of the dress slithered to the floor, he realized that she wore nothing beneath it. Logically, he understood that every garment she’d been wearing at the time of her abduction had been stripped from her and sold by the vultures who’d taken her. But even with the cold that had tinged her skin an unnatural shade of blue, he could see where the rough fabric had abraded her delicate flesh. There were bruises, scrapes, and scratches all over her. It infuriated him. It was also more than just his natural inclination to be protective of women, and particularly innocent ones such as Lady Ernsdale. His response to her was something different—other.Proprietary. Something he had no right to be where she was concerned.Whatever the hell it was, it was a waste of energy. They were worlds apart, and it ought to stay that way. Itwouldstay that way.
He glanced at her face and saw a slight smile curving her lips. “What is it?” His voice sounded gruff, his tone too sharp to have spoken to her thusly.
“I was afraid to drown,” she managed. “But there are worse ways to die. Freezing to death might be one of them.”
“Fuck.” The moment he said it, he regretted it. That wasn’t the sort of word he ought to use in front of her. “You’re not going to freeze to death. I won’t allow it.” To be certain of that, he draped one of the blankets about her shoulders and maneuvered her closer to the small box stove which now provided a cheery blaze.
“What is this place?” she asked.
Telling her that it was a former hideout for traitors and murderers seemed like it would not be for the best. So he offered an abbreviated explanation. “It was the home of a dead woman.” He moved away from her then, leaving her in front of the stove as he moved behind her to remove his own soaked clothes. He would use one of the blankets to cover himself solely for her benefit.
“Oh, that’s terrible. Did she die here?” She sounded so utterly horrified by the possibility.
“No. She was already dead before she moved in,” he answered as he pulled his shirt over his head. He didn’t bother to explain that she’d been dead from the first moment she’d elected to betray her country for nothing more than a bit of coin.
Once he tossed his filthy shirt to the floor, he removed his boots, then dropped his pants. As he rose, he looked back at her over his shoulder. She was no longer facing the stove, but was looking at him in a way that—well, it wasn’t good for either of them. Admiration was one thing. Attraction was another altogether. But awareness, the tension that developed between two people when those other feelings were both mutual and acknowledged, that was dangerous.
Still, he took a moment to study her. The curve of her shoulder, the slope of her breasts barely concealed beneath the blanket, the length of her pale, slim legs—it was all bared to him. And none of it should ever be for his eyes. She was not for the likes of him.
To break the spell, he joked, “Careful, Lady Ernsdale. You’ll put me to blush.”
“I don’t think so. From what I can see you have absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about.”
