Blackthorne's Bride (14 page)

She closed her eyes as it occurred to her that she should be glad of a new moniker. Maddie the Kind was now Maddie the Troubled.

She frowned. That didn't sound right ...

Blackthorne's arms tightened around her. "How am I supposed to keep you safe when you won't listen to me?"

Maddie knew she was dreaming then. Why would the Earl of Blackthorne care about keeping her safe? Why did the Earl of Blackthorne care about her at all?

"Jack?" she murmured. She shouldn't call him by his given name, but she was too tired to think about propriety. "May I ask you a question?" She felt him tense.

"What is it?"

"What did you do to the Duke of Bleven?" She tried to suppress another yawn—yawning belied the seriousness of her question—but the yawn escaped anyway.

"Go to sleep, Maddie," Jack said. "I'll tell you about Bleven tomorrow."

"But I want to know now. I—" She yawned again.

"Shh," Jack said. The last thing she remembered was the feel of his hand stroking her hair.

* * * * *

Jack felt her body go limp as she drifted into sleep. If she was even half as exhausted as he, she needed to rest. He only wished she could have stayed awake long enough for them to find a comfortable place to lie. They were close to a village, and there had to be farms nearby. He might have tucked her into a bed of straw.

Even better would have been taking a room at the village inn. But that would be the first place Bleven would search for them.

Bleven.

Jack closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. What the hell was he going to do about the Black Duke? Now, not only were he and Nick on Bleven's blacklist, but thanks to him, Maddie was there as well.

He might get her safely to Gretna Green, might see her married to Mr. Dover—if they could find the man again in the morning—but there was no way the professor could protect her from a man like Bleven.

Jack looked down at his sleeping charge and frowned. She couldn't return to London. Bleven would find some way to hurt her there. He could handle Bleven. He would handle him, but in the meantime, what to do about Maddie?

Jack shook his head. When the hell had he started calling her Maddie? When the hell had he started thinking so much about protecting her? It had to stop now. He'd get her to Gretna Green, save his own skin by marrying Ashley Brittany, then return to London and take on Bleven. If the Brittany clan didn't kill him first, they'd rally behind him and against Bleven.

Maddie—Lady Madeleine—had a different future. One without him.

Best if he kept that in mind. He had to ignore all insidious thoughts to the contrary, especially those that involved forgetting Ashley Brittany, stealing Lady Madeleine away from Dover, and marrying her himself.

That wasn't going to happen. It couldn't. A marriage to Miss Brittany was like a handshake. Nothing but a business arrangement. A marriage to Lady Madeleine would be an entirely different matter. He was growing far too fond of her, and that was dangerous.

If he married her, he didn't think he could stop himself from ... well, if not falling in love with her, coming damn close. He didn't care how much he wanted her, he wasn't risking his heart. He liked it cold and hard, and he liked that Ashley Brittany wasn't any threat to it remaining that way.

The sooner he got Lady Madeleine to Gretna, got rid of her, and went his own way, the better.

But it wouldn't be tonight. He'd had enough of traveling on dark roads and traipsing through black woods. They'd start fresh in the morning. He'd find Nick and Miss Brittany and even poor Mr. Dover, prod Nick to help him steal—er, borrow—a carriage, and then ride hell for leather toward Gretna.

Jack figured if they drove the horses fast, changed them every five miles or so, and limited meal stops and sleep stops, they could reach Gretna in three days or less.

Assuming they didn't run into more trouble from Bleven or new trouble from Sir Gareth. And assuming Nick wasn't accosted by any more innkeeper's daughters.

Jack looked down at Maddie. Three more days.

He shifted her sleeping form and wondered if he'd survive three more days. Everything ached, and he knew it would be worse in the morning.

His first priority was ensuring that Bleven wasn't going to stumble upon them during the night. He figured it would take Bleven several hours to round up his men and organize an effective search. That was, if the Black Duke even felt a search was worthwhile. For all the duke knew, he and Maddie were long gone.

Jack crept back toward the road, surprised to find that he and Maddie had made it deeper into the woods than he'd thought. Sliding through the brush on his belly, he surveyed the scene. The carriage was gone but several of the duke's thugs were milling about. He watched as eventually all the men returned. But without Bleven, the hirelings seemed lost. Eventually, they dispersed, riding toward the nearest town. As the last man disappeared, Jack sighed in relief and crept back to Maddie.

She was still sleeping where he'd left her, and he looked around for a softer piece of ground. He didn't see one, but spotted a tree that would provide good cover, should one of Bleven's men come this way. As gently as possible, he lifted the sleeping Maddie and moved her to the tree. Then he saw to the care of the horses.

Sometime later he lay down beside Maddie. He had intended to remain close to her, should anything happen during the night, but far enough away to maintain decency.

Unfortunately, he didn't anticipate how warm she'd be. She radiated heat, and his weak, cold body couldn't resist moving closer. And, actually, that was a good thing. They needed to share body heat to survive.

Oh, who the hell was he kidding? It was summer, and though the English nights were chilly, they were nowhere close to deadly.

He wanted to lie beside her, cradle her in his arms, and press his face into her lavender-scented hair. He'd wanted it since the first moment he saw her, and when would he have another opportunity? The professor—goddamn him—would be the man holding her after this night. He didn't think Dover even knew what he had in Lady Madeleine.

Maddie sighed in her sleep and cuddled closer to him, and Jack felt his heart lurch.

No emotion,
he told himself.
Don't get attached.

It was an old refrain. One he had adopted because he knew firsthand how much it could hurt when you lost someone you cared about. He was going to lose Maddie, and he'd be damned if he was going to care.

Jack stared at the tree limbs above him and the twinkling stars beyond that. Beside him, Maddie stirred and moaned softly. He clenched his hand to keep from reaching out to her.

* * * * *

Maddie awoke in a cocoon of warmth and safety. Without even opening her eyes, she knew it was almost dawn. And still without opening her eyes, she knew Jack was pressed against her backside.

She knew his scent by now, and knew the feel of his strong arms about her. She should. She'd imagined him holding her just like this—gentle but strong—a hundred times or more.

She sighed, content to stay like this forever. It felt so good to be in his arms. She felt so safe and so happy and ...

Well, if she were being honest, she'd also admit she felt a bit stirred up. His face was near her neck, and his light breath tickled and teased the sensitive skin just behind her ear. And one of his hands—

Maddie was certain he hadn't done it on purpose, but Blackthorne's hand was cupping her breast.

The sensation wasn't unpleasant. In fact, she rather wished he would move that hand to stroke her, cup her more fully.

Jiminy! Why was she thinking about this? She blamed it on the early morning. She was still half asleep, still in that semiconscious state between waking and dreaming.

If she were awake, she'd be thinking clearly, thinking that the man holding her was going to marry Ashley.

Loyalty to Ashley should have made her jump at his touch, and she would have. If she'd been more awake.

And if she'd been awake and alert, she would also be thinking about how wrong Blackthorne was for her. Her parents always told her to marry someone like herself.

"Similar interests and similar dispositions. That's what makes a happy union," her father had always said.

Maddie didn't believe Blackthorne was much like herself at all. Did he care about orphans and widows? Would he have wept for the bleeding bear?

She didn't think so. Even worse, she had a sinking suspicion Jack was a lot like her father. Her father argued with her every time she had to travel to an unsavory area of Town to aid one of her charities.

"Why can't you stay in Mayfair?" her father would demand. "Stay where you're safe."

"Because there aren't any poor widows or orphans in Mayfair," Maddie argued back. Her neighbors were all rich and titled. Most didn't care about the poor; they only cared about the latest scandal or who was hosting which ball.

She knew her father had her best interests at heart, but she was tired of being controlled. That was why she had chosen Mr. Dover. He wouldn't try and keep her from helping others. And Mr. Dover wouldn't upset her life with bullets and Black Dukes and troublesome brothers.

Maddie opened her eyes and turned to look at the man beside her. Blackthorne didn't move or wake, but when she was facing him, his arms tightened on her again.

It was still dark, and in the shadows, she didn't feel like Maddie Fullbright.

It was an old game—pretending that what she did in the moonlight didn't matter. It had begun the first time her cousins dragged her from her safe Warm bed into the dangerous streets of London on some madcap adventure. Lady Madeleine would never have run about in boy's clothing, climbed out second-story windows, or stayed up all night laughing with her cousins. And so she had pretended she was someone else.

Someone who was not the daughter of an earl, who didn't live in Berkeley Square, who didn't own silk gowns and satin slippers. Someone who wasn't weighed down with all the expectations and responsibilities of a peeress. Someone who liked risks.

Maddie felt that way now. She was just a woman in a man's arms. A woman with urges and feelings and who sometimes wanted to feel a man's arms around her or taste his mouth on hers.

Even if he was the wrong man.

Especially if he was the wrong man.

It was dark, the gray dark of day before the dawn, and Maddie could see the marquess's face. She didn't know what she'd expected. Perhaps that he'd look younger, more vulnerable, more accessible. Instead, he looked much the same as he did when he was awake.

He was frowning and serious, even in sleep. She remembered how he had smoothed her brow and told her not to worry, and she did the same for him now.

He didn't move or wake, so she allowed her hand to trace his black eyebrow, to feel the tension beneath it. She would have stopped there—if it had been morning and she'd been Lady Madeleine—but it was still dark and she was still free.

And so she cupped his cheek and trailed a finger to his jaw. It was rough with blue-black stubble, and the hair scratched her palm.

But his lips were soft. She couldn't resist touching them with her finger. They were pliant and yielding, so unlike the rest of him.

The longer she looked at those lips, the more she wanted to press her own against them, to taste him one more time.

The last time.

She stared at his eyes, listening for his even breathing. Satisfied, she leaned forward and pressed her lips gently against his.

It was a sweet kiss, light and innocent and quick. Maddie allowed her mouth to rest on Blackthorne's for only a moment, then made to pull away. But it was too late.

His hand on her back tightened and pulled her closer, and his lips came alive under hers, pressing hard against her mouth. His eyes opened.

"Nice to know I wasn't the only one with that idea this morning. What else do you have in mind?"

Maddie tried to move away. She tried to shake her head but was pressed so tightly against him, she couldn't escape.

"Nothing," she said against his lips, and it was almost as though she kissed him again without intending to. "I—I shouldn't have kissed you."

He rose on one elbow and looked down at her. "I'm glad you did."

"Me, too," she whispered. As soon as the sun rose, she would behave as she ought. But in the few precious moments before, she wanted to behave as she desired.

Her heart was pounding now, beating so hard that she was afraid he could feel it. She waited and wondered what he'd do next. She should have known this would happen. She should have expected him to awake and respond.

And perhaps that was what she'd wanted all along. Perhaps she had tempted fire because she wanted to be burned.

He raised a brow at her. "You touched me," he said, voice low and incredibly sensuous.

All the tiny hairs on her body stood up, and she couldn't stop a shiver from running through her body. No doubt he felt it and knew what it meant.

She prayed the sun would never rise. She loved being held in his arms. She relished the feel of their bodies pressed together. She wanted to be closer. She wanted to do more, and she didn't want to think about all the reasons that she shouldn't. That she couldn't.