Clifton smiled and accepted the bread from her outstretched hand. “I can see why these miscreants mistook you for my sister. You’re not only beautiful, but generous as well.”
Alexandra gave him a dimpled smile. The last thing she expected was a compliment as she sat there in Nathaniel’s clothes. But she would have felt even more self-conscious wearing the now ruined, expensive blue dress she had taken from Lady Anne.
“Sometimes it’s wise for prisoners to pull together.” Just as the marquess had emphasized
miscreants
, she emphasized the word
prisoners
for Nathaniel’s benefit, still goaded by his refusal to trust her enough to take her into Bristol the night before.
Nathaniel ignored them, but as Alexandra’s conversation with Lord Clifton warmed, touching a variety of subjects from the Royal Strand Theater in London to the hot wells of Bath, his gaze repeatedly flicked her way. Evidently her friendliness with his half brother struck a nerve, so she remembered to laugh gaily at whatever Clifton said.
Suddenly a large
crack
resounded, like the snap of a whip, and the carriage tilted dramatically. Nathaniel’s hard body slammed into Alexandra, but the reassuring strength of his arm instantly encircled her waist and held her steady.
“What happened?” she asked as their carriage skidded to a halt. Dust rose all around, clogging her nostrils and making her cough.
“We’ve probably lost a wheel,” Nathaniel said. “Are you all right?”
Alexandra nodded, and he disappeared through the door into the cloud of dust.
A moment later he poked his head inside the carriage and spoke to Tiny. “It’s a wheel, all right. Damned if this won’t cost us a day.”
Tiny heaved himself toward the door. “Can we fix it ourselves?”
Nathaniel stepped back to let the big man out. “No.” He squinted against the sun. “Someone will have to ride to the next town and get a blacksmith.”
“What about Clifton? If someone stops to see if they can help, it might not bode well to find a captive,” Samuel interjected.
“Don’t worry about the marquess,” Nathaniel said, helping Alexandra down. “I’m sure the point of my knife will convince him to act like one of us.” He grinned at his half brother. “He’s so close to home, he’d be stupid to raise an alarm now, anyway.”
“I’ll go for the blacksmith,” Garth volunteered, seemingly eager to accept the task at hand rather than sit in the heat and wait.
“No. You stay here with me. Sam can handle it,” Nathaniel told him.
Garth frowned but nodded, then moved with the captain and the other men to the shade of a large oak tree, leaving the marquess to get out on his own and hover about the carriage as Samuel rode away.
Alexandra climbed a small hill not far from the road and sat at the top to survey the countryside. She’d never been away from Manchester, but the verdant grass and purple and yellow wildflowers around her couldn’t hold her attention. Her gaze was drawn back to Nathaniel again and again. Now that she was finally on her way to London, her anger at him had softened, despite her best efforts to shore it up. And though she had flirted with the marquess, Lord Clifton held no attraction for her. Only the pirate captain could make her heart pound with the simplest look or gesture.
She sighed heavily. Fate had dealt her an unlucky hand. Perhaps she would never know another who drew her as Nathaniel did, another who was so strong and cunning and virile.
But it wouldn’t be hard to find a man who wasn’t a criminal, she reminded herself. Even if she and Nathaniel had a chance together, the duke would never let them live in peace. She’d be forced to watch Nathaniel die or go to prison, and she couldn’t endure that.
Neither had he asked her to remain with him, in any capacity.
She lowered her lashes when Nathaniel’s glance flicked her way. There was something between them. She could feel it even from a distance. But whatever the seed that had been sown, neither she nor Nathaniel would give it room to grow. They couldn’t afford to.
* * *
Samuel brought back a rotund man who set himself immediately to the task of fixing the carriage.
Alexandra watched him work from her perch at the top of the hill, enjoying the slow-moving day. The time when she would be separated from Nathaniel was looming too close already. She liked listening to his deep voice as he spoke to Tiny, and she tried to catch every syllable that floated to her on the wind.
He seemed equally aware of her. Every few moments his eyes lingered on her almost like a caress, as if he needed to reassure himself of her presence. Once he smiled, and Alexandra’s heart swelled to see the uncharacteristic abandon on his face. She wanted to make him smile like that more often.
But she wouldn’t be around to do it. Some other woman would have to soothe his hurts. And it was for the best, she told herself as she watched Lord Clifton make his way toward her.
Before speaking, Nathaniel’s half brother jammed his good hand into the pocket of the sailor’s breeches he wore. He commented on the weather and the countryside, then cleared his throat and lowered his voice.
“Nathaniel’s guard cannot be raised against us both all of the time. Perhaps if one of us were to create a diversion, the other could gain access to a weapon, or escape and bring help.”
Alexandra didn’t have to ask which role the marquess expected her to play. No doubt she was to be the diversion. But she couldn’t do anything that would get Nathaniel hurt, or worse, killed.
“He has the senses of a cat,” she replied honestly. “I doubt it would be wise to try and thwart him now. Besides, there’s no point in it. He’s already agreed to release the both of us.”
“When it suits him,” Lord Clifton responded bitterly. “I’ll not have him hold me as ransom for that thief Richard.”
Alexandra studied Lord Clifton’s injured arm. The marquess was brave, she had to admit, but pride seemed to motivate most of his actions. “You could be harmed if you don’t cooperate. Haven’t you paid too heavy a price already?”
Hate contorted Clifton’s features. “I’ll have that blackguard’s head mounted on the gate at Bridlewood someday,” he vowed.
Alexandra’s stomach clenched at the thought. “I don’t doubt that you will.”
Or rather, that your father will,
she added silently. “But today is not the day. We’re too close to freedom to risk further loss of life or limb. We’d be foolish not to go along with him until he releases us.”
She noticed Nathaniel scowling at them and stood, brushing bits of twig and dirt from the trousers she wore. “I think it’s time to go. It looks as though the wheel is fixed.”
* * *
Fortunately, the marquess seemed to take her advice. The journey to the next small town was uneventful. Lord Clifton didn’t speak again, to her or anyone else. He stared out the window, his face an emotionless mask.
Nathaniel, on the other hand, studied her every move. Alexandra felt his gaze upon her like the sun beating through a window and wondered if he, too, dreaded the moment when they would part. Had the desire for revenge captured the whole of his heart, or had she managed to achieve some small purchase there?
They rolled into Farringdon long after dark. Alexandra had expected to continue through the night, so she was surprised when Nathaniel called to Garth, whose turn it was to drive, to stop at the first inn.
“Why are we stoppin’?” Tiny posed the question, but the rest of Nathaniel’s men stretched and looked to him for the answer as well.
“I’m going to send a message to Greystone. We’ll arrive in London tomorrow afternoon, several hours after our message has been delivered.”
Tiny shrugged. “Whether we wait in London or ‘ere is all the same to me. But I am longin’ for a bed, that I am.”
“Aye,” a tired, dusty Garth agreed.
Alexandra didn’t say anything, but she was glad for the delay. They’d arrive in London soon enough. She took a deep breath as the stranglehold of emotion that had squeezed her heart all day lessened just a bit.
A few more hours,
she thought. A few more hours were better than nothing.
* * *
The inn was on the outskirts of town, just beyond a series of small farms. A string of squat buildings with thatch roofs, it was old, but the proprietor and his wife kept the place clean and in good repair.
Nathaniel rented several rooms for the eight of them, and made Garth guard the marquess. He knew Garth was tired, but Clifton was easier to control when Nathaniel wasn’t near him. Nathaniel didn’t want to end up killing the boy during the night, which was, at times, no small temptation.
Besides, he had enough to worry about. The closer he came to freeing Alexandra, the more reluctant he was to do so.
Using one of the keys the steward had given him, he opened a door at the end of a dimly lit corridor and motioned Alexandra inside. “You’ll sleep here tonight,” he said. He was tempted to follow her in, but forced his feet to continue on to the next room.
She stepped back into the hall long enough to watch him open his own door. “You’re going to trust me?” she asked.
“You have no reason to go anywhere. I’m already taking you to London.”
“Don’t you think I’ll implement some desperate plot to save the marquess? Isn’t that what you were afraid I’d do in Bristol?”
“My father doesn’t live in this town,” he countered. “Besides, I don’t think you’re foolish enough to risk Lord Clifton’s life. Garth is tired and bad-tempered. A stupid move would only get my half brother shot, and possibly yourself as well.”
Nathaniel knew that he was the one who sounded tired and bad-tempered, but it provided a safe facade behind which to hide his true feelings. “Good night.”
Alexandra smiled and nodded before entering her own room. She closed the door, and he wondered if she was pleased with her newfound privacy. His own room seemed cold and empty without her. After spending the past few weeks in such close proximity, he’d become accustomed to Alexandra’s presence—the small sounds she made in her sleep, the way she arranged his few personal belongings on the wash-stand, the womanly smell of her.
But he dared not place temptation in his path tonight. He was too close to releasing her. Besides the fact that he had made her miss her aunt’s ship, she wasn’t much worse off than she’d been when he’d snatched her, now that her injury was almost healed. If he allowed the desire that curled around his heart and tightened his groin to take control, however…
Nathaniel tried to direct his thoughts away from Alexandra. Dwelling on her would only undermine his resolve, which felt amazingly weak already. Stripping off his clothes, he crossed to the washstand and busied himself washing up. As he did so, his mind’s eye presented him with a picture of Alexandra doing the same, and he felt the familiar pull that threatened to be his undoing.
Plunging his head beneath the water, he scrubbed his hair. After toweling off, he forced himself to lie down, even though he could hear Alexandra moving about next door, and knew he’d never be able to sleep.
* * *
Alexandra paced the floor of her room. She was grateful for the reprieve from the bone-jarring carriage ride, but the large featherbed shoved against one wall held no appeal for her. She could think only of Nathaniel.
The memory of their last kiss played in her mind, causing something deep inside her to stir. She longed to feel his touch again, if only for a brief moment.
She poured herself a glass of water from the pitcher on the washstand. He couldn’t burn for her the way she burned for him if he could set her free so easily, she thought, irritated at her own foolish craving. No doubt she had misinterpreted the many times his hand had brushed her arm throughout the day, the looks he’d given her. He felt responsible for her current precarious situation, nothing more, and he was doing what he could to make it right.
A soft knock at the door interrupted Alexandra’s musings. Casting a quick glance in the mirror, she hurried across the floor. Her brushed and gleaming hair fell to her waist, framing a flushed face, and she wore what she had worn throughout her convalescence—Nathaniel’s shirt.
At the door she paused, knowing better than to open it. It could be anyone, though deep down, she knew it was him. “Who is it?”
“Nathaniel.”
Alexandra unbolted the door and opened it a crack to see the pirate captain standing in the hall, wearing only his trousers and boots. His broad chest gleamed in the light of the lamps that lit the hallway, though his eyes were as dark as pits. She couldn’t see what emotion smoldered inside them. She could only feel the current that ran between them like a physical force, pulling them together.
She resisted whatever compelled her to rush into his arms, knowing that to succumb to such desire would be foolhardy. Her heart was already in jeopardy; she didn’t want Nathaniel to own her soul as well. Still, to her own mortification, she stepped back so he could enter.
Nathaniel’s hair was wet, and Alexandra could smell the scent of freshly washed skin as he stepped across the threshold. She wanted to reach out and touch him, to knead his thick muscles, but she knew the slightest contact would ignite a flame so intense it would be difficult to extinguish.
Perhaps he had come for a reason. Perhaps he needed to tell her something.
When Nathaniel turned to face her, Alexandra knew he hadn’t come to talk. He reached out and captured one of her hands with his own, then kissed each fingertip.
Before his touch left her completely senseless, she pulled away, eager to have the advantage over him, since she so rarely possessed it.
“Is there a problem with your room?” she asked, trying to sound flippant.
His eyes narrowed and his voice lowered almost to a growl. “Don’t tease me tonight, Alexandra. Your lips may say one thing, but your eyes tell an entirely different story.”
“Which is better than my lying to you outright, like you did to me at Bristol.”
“I had good reason for leaving you on the
Vengeance.’“
“And you’re not to be questioned, is that it?”