Page 83 of Gallant Waif
“What thedevildo you think you’re doing?”
The roar, which seemed to echo from the heavens, almost startled Kate into dropping her basket. It was, however, a very familiar roar. She looked around. There, on a horse flecked with foam, its sides heaving, legs trembling, sat Jack Carstairs, glaring at her yet again.
He looked dreadful. Covered with mud, his jaw unshaven, his neckcloth all awry. Her eyes softened. She glanced around. The narrow country laneway in which she’d been walking was by no means deserted; several farm workers were within earshot. She smiled up at him for the benefit of their observers.
“Good afternoon, Mr Carstairs,” she said in a clear calm voice. “As you see, I’m just off to the village.”
“Just off to the village, are you? And with no thought for how others might be worried about you?”
She looked up at him in silence. Why would he be worried? And why so angry?
“How the hell did you get here anyway?”
“I hired a chaise and outriders.”
“A chaise and outriders? A chaise and outriders!” He seemed outraged by the notion. He was breathing heavily, his eyes positively crackling with blue rage.
“Well, and what is so wrong with that?”
“Only that I stopped every bloody stage and Mail coach between here and London, searching for you!”
“Oh, no. You didn’t, did you?” Kate looked up at him, her eyes wide, imagining the scene. She giggled.
As far as Jack was concerned, it was the giggle that did it. With a groan of fury he leaned down, grabbed her under the armpits and dragged her up on to his horse. Ignoring her outraged squeaks, he clamped her to his chest and moved off. Kate struggled, but as the horse moved faster she clung to Jack to save herself from falling. The farm labourers came closer, several of them carrying sticks and cudgels.
In a trice Jack clamped his mouth over hers. Kate’s struggles suddenly ceased as the familiar magic of his kiss washed over her. She was, after all, where she most desired in the world to be. One hand slid around his neck, her fingers tangling in his wild, damp hair. The other hand gently stroked his rough, unshaven jaw. Abandoning all defences, she opened her heart and allowed herself to simply love him.
By the time the kiss had finished, they had left the grinning farm workers long behind. Kate sighed, nuzzling her face against the underside of his jaw. She leaned against him, relishing the taste of him on her lips, the strong embrace of his muscular arms around her.
“There was no need to run away, you know,” he said after a time. “We had everything under control. You will be completely accepted in society, no shadow of a doubt. There was no need to hide here.”
“Run away?” she said quietly. “Did Lady Cahill not tell you?”
“Oh, she told me all right. How else do you think I knew where to look?” He swung her round to face him, eyes blazing, hands gripping her hard. He shook her. “What is there here for you? A small dirty village? A falling-down cottage? The company of rustics? You cannot possibly prefer this to London!”
Her eyes clung to his. “Everything I want in the world is right here,” she said slowly. “Nothing I want or need is in London.” She leaned back into the curve of his body.
He turned ashen. His hands loosened their hard grip. He looked away, staring blankly across the top of her head. “Nothing?” he said at last.
“Nothing in London. Everything I want in the world is right here,” she repeated.
He sagged in the saddle. “So be it.”
Defeated, he turned his horse back towards the village. They rode in silence, the only sound the twittering of birds and the slow clip-clopping of the horse’s hoofs. Kate lay back against his chest, rocking against his hard, warm body in rhythm to the horse’s gait. She could say no more. How could she, not knowing how he felt? She had told him as much as she dared.
Why had he come after her? Had his grandmother sent him? Was it duty? Or a constitutional dislike of being crossed? He’d saved her reputation, but then made it clear that he wanted nothing further to do with her. Oh, he desired her all right, but she wanted more than that.
They drew closer and closer to the village until at last the cross on the spire of the tiny stone church was clearly visible. The horse stopped.
“Damned if I do, damned if I don’t, so I bloody well will and damn the consequences!” Jack suddenly growled. He wrenched the horse around and started to gallop in the opposite direction. Kate clung on for dear life.
“Where are we going? This is not the way to the village,” she shrieked. His only response was to clamp her more tightly against his chest and spur the horse onwards.
“The cottage is in the other direction!” she shouted, bouncing up and down.
The horse galloped on. Jack said not a word. Kate thumped at his chest in frustration. “Jack! Where are we going?”
His arms tightened around her. “I’m kidnapping you.”
