At the Highwayman's Pleasure (17 page)

‘I shall be watching you.’ He leaned towards her again, hissing, ‘And I don’t believe you know nothing about that highwayman. I’d be willing to wager you are his whore, otherwise, when his plan failed, why did he not have the stomach for mine? I’ll catch the scoundrel, you mark my words, and when I do he will hang and, if I can prove you are in league with him, you will hang, too!’

He stormed out, banging the door behind him, and Charity sank back down onto her seat. She closed her eyes, concentrating on breathing in and out as if steadying her nerves for a performance, although in truth she had just given the performance of a lifetime. The door opened again and she heard Hywel’s anxious voice.

‘I have just seen Weston and his wife leaving. Smudgeon told me they slipped in when the boy was minding the door. Are you all right, Charity?’

‘Yes.’ She opened her eyes and looked at him. ‘Yes.’ She sat up a little straighter. ‘I braved his wrath, listened to his empty threats and I did not crumble.’

He frowned.

‘Weston did not bully you into leaving Allingford?’

‘He tried, but no.’ A smile was growing inside her. ‘No, he will never bully me again.’

* * *

Despite her newfound confidence, she was happy for Hywel to make it known to all his staff that Mr and Mrs Weston should not be allowed backstage in future. She also found her father’s remarks about Ross troubled her. What did he mean when he said Ross had no stomach for his plan? Just what had Phineas suggested to Ross and why had he not told her?

The question nagged at her, but she was no nearer an answer two weeks on, as she prepared for the last performance of
All for Love
. She left her dressing room and went up onto the stage, trying to clear her mind ready for the play, and it was out of habit that she peeped through the curtains. The auditorium was packed and noisy and she was not expecting to see Ross, so her heart gave a little jolt when she saw him. Perhaps it was his stillness, standing at the end of one of the benches while all around him people pushed and jostled. He looked solemn, grim even, and her heart went out to him. She hurried back to the dressing room where Betty was busy mending one of her gowns.

‘Betty, love, pray leave that and take a note out to the audience for me.’ She pulled a piece of paper towards her and picked up a pencil. There was no time to hunt around for pen and ink. ‘You will find Mr Durden in the theatre. Do you not know him? He is a tall gentleman, plainly dressed, and he wears his own hair, dark and naturally curling. Rather unruly, in fact.’ Had she said too much? ‘Seek him out, if you please, and make sure he gets this note.’

‘Now, madam—!’

‘Do not argue, Betty, there is no time—there is my call. I must go on stage.’ Charity folded the note and handed it to her maid. ‘Do this for me, dearest Betty, and I shall be for ever in your debt!’

* * *

The cheers and whoops of appreciation rang around the theatre. Charity made her curtsy, saluted Will, her leading man, then turned again to face the audience. She could not help herself, she peered into the pit. It was impossible to see clearly past the flaring limelight, but she remembered roughly where she had seen Ross, so she concentrated on that area. Surely it was his tall figure she could see at the end of one of the benches? She sank down into another curtsy and as she rose she pressed her hands to her lips, then extended them towards the darkness—and the place she believed Ross to be sitting.

There, she had done what she could to convey to him how much she wanted to see him. Will and the other actors were milling around on the stage behind the curtain. She stopped momentarily to congratulate them, then returned to her dressing room, immediately demanding of Betty if her note had been delivered.

‘Aye, ma’am, I gave it him, but he looked so fierce when I spoke to him that I fear he was offended.’

‘Then you must go and look out for him,’ said Charity, pushing her towards the door. ‘Bring him here directly and do not let Elias Smudgeon turn him away!’

‘But what about your dress? You cannot get out of it alone—’

‘You shall help me later. It is important that you find Mr Durden before he leaves the theatre.’ She hustled Betty out of the door and shut it behind her, uttering up a prayer that Ross would not go home without seeing her.

I only want to ask him what Phineas suggested to him,
she argued as she removed her headdress and wiped the heavy make-up from her face.
There is nothing wanton or lustful about that. I merely need to know what my father is up to.

She brushed out her hair, trying not to think of the passing time, desperately hoping that he would not refuse to see her. At last she was rewarded by the sound of footsteps in the corridor. She snatched open the door and almost sighed with relief when she saw Ross standing there. He filled the doorway, his eyes glittering with a fierce light that burned into her.

‘I was afraid you would not come.’ She reached out and caught his hand, drawing him into the room.

‘I should not have done so.’

Charity barely registered the curt tone, thinking only how much she had longed to hear his voice. Her eyes scanned his face, noting the clenched jaw, the tensed muscles around his mouth. His whole being radiated tightly controlled energy like a wild animal ready to spring. With the open door behind him she feared he might even now leave her. She was still holding his hand and with great daring she raised it to her lips.

‘I have looked out for you every night—’

She heard him groan, felt the slight movement as he kicked the door shut.

‘You should have looked in vain!’ He dragged her into his arms. With a sob she turned her face up, inviting his kiss. ‘Oh, my dear, golden girl,’ he muttered as he covered her face with kisses. ‘Did you know you were looking directly at me at the end of the play, when you blew that kiss into the audience?’

‘I was not sure, but I hoped—’

Her breathless words were cut short as he kissed her again. He drove his hands into her hair, holding her firmly while he took her mouth and plundered it savagely. She responded with equal fervour, instinctively following his lead, tangling her tongue with his as her bones liquefied and the pent-up desire flowed through every part of her body. His hands roved over her, sliding down her back and over the soft swell of her buttocks to pull her closer. The gold tissue of her gown was lined with silk, but now it grated against her skin. Her breasts felt heavy and swollen, aching for his caress.

‘No.’ He forced out the word and raised his head. ‘This is madness. Dangerous madness. For God’s sake, send me away now, sweetheart, before it is too late.’

She almost cried, bereft when he held her away from him. He was grasping her shoulders and she leaned her cheek against one hand, saying with a sigh, ‘Oh, my dear, it is already too late for me.’

Keeping his gaze firmly upon her, he reached behind him and turned the key in the lock.

‘If you are sure?’

She ran her tongue over her lips. They were swollen from his onslaught, but yearning for more. Whatever happened, if she never saw him again, she wanted this.

She said slowly, ‘I have never been more certain of anything in my life.’

Her heart soared at the leap of triumph in his glance. He swooped down upon her again and she closed her eyes, felt his tongue slide like silk between her lips, his hands pushing the flimsy gown from her shoulders. There were no stays beneath, but the costume was shaped to cover her breasts like a skin and when it resisted his attempts to release her he ruthlessly tore the gold tissue away. Even as it shimmered to the ground he was lifting her out of it, carrying her to the daybed where he lay her gently down and fell to his knees beside her. Charity watched his face as he regarded her nakedness, exhilarated by the wonder in his eyes. He reached out to run his hands over her body, cupping her breasts, his thumbs circling the hard peaks until they were aching almost painfully. She arched against his hands and reached for him, trying to tear off his clothes. He released her just long enough to undress, then measured his length against hers on the narrow bed.

Shivering with anticipation, she held him and began to press eager if inexpert kisses upon his smooth, taut skin. He continued to caress her and when his gently questing hand slid to the join of her thighs she fell back with a gasp. His fingers moved into the satin softness and he stroked her slowly while his lips trailed over her face, across her throat then around to the delicate soft curl of her ear, and she almost swooned with the pleasure of the double onslaught upon her senses. Restlessly she moved beneath his touch, her body awakening to sensations she had never known existed. She began to run her own hands over the muscled contours of his body, revelling in the leashed power beneath her fingers. He shifted his position and began to kiss her mouth again, tangling his tongue with hers in a slow, sensuous dance that combined with his gentle, insistent caresses to carry her to new heights. She tensed, gasping as her muscles clenched around his fingers. She had no experience of such sensations, but her instinct was that there was something more, she wanted him joined with her, one flesh. She was burning, her body pliant and melting as he moved over her. She wrapped her legs around him and raised her hips. She wanted him to take her, to possess her completely. He slid into her, smooth and hard. She was so hot and slick that there was no pain and she cried out from the sheer joy of their union. He was moving inside her and she could feel the ripples of delight building. Without conscious thought she began to move with him as the wave of passion engulfed her. She was almost swooning when she heard his cry of triumph and delight and felt that final, hard thrust that sent her over the edge and falling, falling into oblivion.

* * *

Everything was quiet. From the lack of sound outside the dressing room Charity guessed that everyone had retired to the green room to celebrate the end of another successful run. Would they miss her? Perhaps, but she knew Betty would have noticed the locked door and hoped she would make her excuses. How long she had lain there in Ross’s arms she did not know and did not care, but it must have been some time, because she felt the first chill of the air against her naked skin.

She shifted her position slightly and Ross stirred. His arms tightened around her again and he began to cover her face with kisses.

‘It was madness to come here,’ he muttered. ‘I should have steered clear of Allingford, but I wanted to see you, just one more time.’

She held him close and nibbled his ear.

‘If you had not come here, then I would have driven out to Wheelston. I had to see you.’

‘No!’ He raised himself on his elbows and frowned down at her. ‘You must stay away. If anyone should suspect—’

‘My father already does. Oh, he can prove nothing,’ she added quickly, seeing his frown.

‘Phineas Weston is a very dangerous man, Charity. You would be much safer if you went far away from here.’

‘That is exactly what he said—’

‘He’s been here?’

‘He came to my dressing room yesterday with his wife—’

‘Hannah!’ He rolled away and sat up. The chill suddenly seemed to enter Charity’s bones.

‘I beg your pardon, if it hurts you to hear of her—’

‘No.’ He turned back to her, cupping her face and gazing deep into her eyes. ‘She has proven herself too scheming and devious for me to regard her with anything but contempt. She and your father are well suited, but I would not have her come within a mile of you!’

His concern warmed her and she thought for a moment he was going to kiss her again, but after a moment he moved away and began to dress. Stifling a sigh, she got up and reached for her wrap.

‘I think she only wants me to leave Allingford. Phineas cannot control the rumours—even people in Beringham are saying that I am his daughter, and he wants me out of the way....’

Ross swung around, his black look alarming her. She recalled her father’s words as he was leaving, remembered belatedly that this was the reason she had asked to see him. She went to him.

‘Ross, he said you had rejected his plan. What plan? What did he say to you, at that last meeting?’

He was not listening, his gaze fixed upon the daybed.

‘Is that...?’ He tore his eyes away from the dark, telltale stain on the couch and back to her face. ‘Charity, sweet heaven, don’t tell me that you are—were... That this was your first time.’

She frowned at him.

‘Does it matter?’

‘Does it—?’ He closed his eyes, his lips moving but whether it was a silent prayer or a curse she could not tell. He snatched up the rest of his clothes and began to throw them on. ‘You told me you were not profligate, but I never thought— Never dreamed—’

‘Ross.’

He took her arms, his fingers digging into the skin, the look in his eyes almost savage.

‘Deflowering virgins is not something to be taken lightly.’

‘No, of course not—’

He flung himself away and she watched, bewildered as he stood with his back to her, his shoulders heaving, as if in the throws of some deep emotion.

‘Don’t you realise I should marry you for this?’

She blinked at the repugnance in his voice. It sliced into her like a knife and she clasped her hands together tightly in an effort to stop herself from shaking. He ran a hand across his eyes.

‘Do you not see how impossible this is? I cannot marry you, Charity.’

She rubbed her temples. After the euphoria of their lovemaking, how had they come to this?

‘I have not asked it of you,’ she said quietly.

He was almost dressed now and shrugging himself into his coat.

‘I must go—’

She stepped in front of him and clutched his sleeves.

‘No. What are you thinking? How can you leave me, after...after what we have just done?’

‘Do not read too much into one tumble, my dear.’

She flinched at his cold drawl, but would not release her hold.

‘No, I will not believe it meant so little to you.’ The closed, shuttered look came over his face and she gave him a little shake. ‘There is something you are not telling me, Ross. Have I not proven that you can trust me?’