Enchanted by Your Kisses (22 page)

"Whatever could I possibly be planning?"

She wondered if she could get her hands around his thick neck, perhaps choke him. Yes. She could throttle the life out of him. That would be deeply satisfying after all he'd done to her.

But he stood up again before she could gain the courage to do something so bold. Her ankles tingled where he'd touched them. She wiggled her toes experimentally, thoughts of throttling him fading as she realized that her hands did, indeed, feel better. Besides, she wasn't exactly certain she had the strength to choke him.

"Your hands will feel better if you start using them."

"They will?"

"Aye, but I warn you, one wrong move, and I shall bind them again."

Pray God, no.
She swallowed. Still plotting, but agreeing nonetheless. She was a captive, and captives had a God-given right to plot their escape. Certainly she had no idea how to accomplish such a feat, but the day was young. She had merely to wait, certain that the opportunity would present itself. He was, after all, a man and prone to mistakes.

So she waited, biding her time as she dressed in her damp clothes.

"Come," he ordered, when she was done, scooping up his bag of supplies without even a backward glance.

Hmph
.

She followed him, her body aching after sleeping on the floor all night. But moving felt good. It warmed her a bit. The air inside the room was chilly. The house looked even more run-down in the light of day. In fact, she felt a bit frightened that they'd dared to spend the night between its rotted beams. Gracious, they could have fallen through the floor, or worse, had the ceiling fall upon them.

God should be so kind to her.

Sunlight did not improve the outside, either. It was a half-hour past dawn, judging by the gray light surrounding them. Clouds covered the sky. The morning air was rather chilly and smelled of vegetation. She rubbed her shoulders, following Nathan on his trek around overgrown weeds, but she couldn't resist a peek back, stopping in her tracks at what she saw. Oh, the shape of the house was pretty enough—square turrets on one side, round ones on the other—but that was all that was pleasant. Crumbling chimneys tumbled upon the roof. A neighboring outbuilding had completely caved in on one side, the granite stones that had once been its walls tossed on the ground like discarded teeth. Overgrown trees obscured the front of the house.

"It looks like someone unburied
Pompeii
."

"Welcome to my home, my lady."

"Your
home?" she asked, hurrying to catch up to him.

He nodded, his eyes clearly disgusted by the disrepair. And, really, it was quite unfair that his eyes were so beautiful in the morning light. Grays and blues and black all mixed in like liquid mercury. Her eyes were probably military-coat red.

"It belonged to my father," he said.

She lifted a brow. "Did your father have a penchant for children's horror stories?"

He turned to look at her. "No, my father had no interest in this place or in anything to do with the
Davenport
name. And when he left
England
, my uncle vowed to let the place go to rot."

"I take it your father and your uncle did not see eye to eye?"

He looked down at her. "You would take it correctly."

She felt curiosity overcome her before she could stop her tongue from saying, "Why not?"

"Because 'tis none of your business."

"No, but I am curious to know, and since we're walking, you may as well share it."

She made her way around another overgrown weed. Only they were not really weeds at all. No. They were overgrown topiaries. Her brows lifted. At one point the estate must have been quite beautiful. How sad that someone would let it fall into such disrepair. The topiaries had become so huge, he was forced to zigzag around them in an odd pattern.

"Mr.
Trevain
?"

He stopped. She almost slammed into his back. "If I tell you, will you promise to be quiet for the rest of the trip?"

She drew back a bit. "Well, I suppose—"

"Good." He faced forward. But it was a while before he began, a while during which Ariel wondered if he'd changed his mind. But then he said, "When rumors began to surface of a possible war between the colonies and
England
, my uncle was very verbal in his disapproval of our family's participation."

She felt her spirits lift, glad for some odd, ridiculous reason that he would share the tale.

"The duke sent my father a letter telling him that if the report were true that we intended to fight for the patriots, he hoped that our legs would be shot off during the first volley."

"That was rather rude," Ariel said.

"Indeed. The man had a great deal of nerve. My uncle had all but disowned my father when he came to the colonies. He treated his younger brother, my father, as a pauper, refusing to give him the stipend that was his right by birth, although he could not withhold the courtesy title."

Ariel felt her eyes widen. "So being a villain runs in your family?"

He frowned, ignoring her insult. "Needless to say, there was no love lost between the two sides. Thus my father was surprised to receive such a letter from his brother, a man who'd communicated with him exactly twice. Once to inform my father he'd been cut off, and the other this missive."

"He sounds perfectly dreadful."

"He is, which is why I was so incensed." She saw his lips tighten before he continued, "I decided to show the man how little we cared for his directive. Upon first occasion I asked our cook for the leg bone of a cow—"

"Oh, Mr.
Trevain
, you didn't?" she said, instantly surmising what he'd done.

"I did. I had that leg bone mounted with a plaque beneath it." He turned to her. "Would you like to know what it said?"

She nodded, feeling a smile begin to build. How odd to be smiling with one's captor, especially one who'd used her so ill. The smile faded.

"It said that we would rather be patriots with one leg than royalists with two."

She stared at him a full two seconds before the words sank in. Then she threw back her head and laughed. She couldn't help it. She just laughed. "Oh, Mr.
Trevain
, how perfectly dreadful."

"It was, but I laughed for weeks afterward as I envisioned his reaction to my little package. Unfortunately, I hadn't told my father what I'd done. Several months later he received a missive back, a missive that had obviously been written in the midst of a rage."

"What did it say?"

"According to my father, it was most unpleasant, although I never did learn exactly what the contents were,
more's
the pity. I expected my father to be angry, but much to my surprise, he clapped me on the back, told me ‘Well done,' then sent me on my way."

Ariel stared at him, wide-eyed, before erupting into laughter again. "I should have liked your father, I think."

It was as if ice had been thrown on his mood. "He was killed at the battle of
Trenton
."

"Oh, sir, I'm so sorry."

They had reached the main road. Ariel wondered where the horses were. She had assumed they were tied somewhere, but they weren't.

Trevain
stopped and looked at her. "If you attempt to stop any passersby, it will go ill for you."

Gone went her smile. Really, the man knew how to spoil a lady's mood.

"I hardly think I shall have time to flag someone down if we are riding fast enough."

"We aren't riding."

She shrugged. "Well, then, you may rest assured I promise not to fling my body out of any carriages, either."

"We won't be in a carriage."

"Then how will we get to
Bettenshire
?"

"We walk."

She stopped. He stopped, too.

"Walk?"

He lifted his right brow. "Aye."

"Are you mad?"

He lifted the right side of his mouth in a damnable smirk that made Ariel want to poke his eyes out.

"I shall walk, my lady, to the local village where I will secure a horse for us to ride."

She felt her spirits lift. "You will walk?"

"Aye, me."

"But what about me?"

"You will stay here."

She stiffened. Oh, no.

No, no, no.

"Mr.
Trevain
, really, I think there must be a much better way—"

He grabbed her by the arm. She yelped.

He tied her to a tree.

Bloody bastard. Bloody scoundrel. Tied her to a bloody tree far enough away from the road so that no one could see her. At least she'd been able to loosen the gag somewhat in the past half-hour. Now she could make some noise. With any luck at all someone might hear her, for she had every intention of trying to gain someone's attention, despite his threat that it would go ill for her if she did. How ill could ill be after all she'd been through? She inhaled a lungful of air, but what emerged past the filthy-tasting gag was nothing more than a muffled gurgle. That irritated her so much she began to struggle against her bonds in earnest.

"Well, well, well. Don't you look a sight."

She stilled, long strands of hair covering her face. She flicked her head, banging it against the tree trunk in the process. He'd chosen a giant oak with a huge canopy of leaves to hold her hostage, its base so wide that with her arms pulled back behind her, Ariel felt rather like a
figurhead
on the prow of a ship. Worse, she just knew little bugs with lots of legs were crawling down the neck of her dress. They swarmed through the air, buzzing by her face once or twice before landing. She could feel their horrid little legs now, the things no doubt calling to their cronies to come feast on the silly human stuck to a tree.

"
Bloothy
brute.
Bloothy
beast," she screeched. "
Geth
off
thath
horsth
an
unthy
me this
inthance
."

"Do what, my lady?" He cupped a hand to his ear. "I'm sorry, I can't understand you."

She narrowed her eyes. Rogue. She would get even with him one day.

"What's the matter, my lady. Cat got your tongue?"

And now he baited her with his words. The bounder. "I
thaid
unthy
me this instant."

"Un-thigh you? I don't believe I know how to un-thigh a lady. Now stroke a thigh, that is something I'm most good at."

Ooo
. She stamped a foot. He knew well and bloody good what she meant. "Un-
thie
me," she spat out slowly and succinctly.

He rested his arm against the pommel, the expression in his eyes so filled with mock confusion that she stamped her foot once more.

"Un-thigh me," he muttered. "Un-thigh me," he repeated again before suddenly stiffening as if enlightened. "Oh, I see. You would like me to untie you."