Just This Once (21 page)

“No, no, no! The rest of us were quite in a
tizzy. Couldn’t think or scarcely speak at all!”

As Josie remembered how Lady Tattersall had
carried on lamenting her misfortune and annoying the outlaws all
the while, she had to hide a smile. “I’m only sorry poor Colonel
Hamring is so badly hurt.” Anxiously, she peered over as the
Colonel let forth a moan.

Ethan adjusted a pillow beneath the
Colonel’s head, then stood. “He’ll live if the damned doctor gets
here soon. Ah, here they are,” he muttered with relief as the
doctor and three sweating, breathless constables rushed in ahead of
Lady Tattersall’s footmen.

After that, events swirled together in
Josie’s head. The doctor, upon completing his ministrations to the
injured man, pronounced that Colonel Hamring would survive, and
ordered that he be carried up to one of the guest bedrooms, where
he could be made more comfortable and where he could rest. The
lower floor of Lady Tattersall’s house became a beehive of frantic
activity as the constables took over, carrying Lucian’s body
outside, searching the grounds, and questioning everyone. Then the
gunnysack containing all the jewels was opened and all the stolen
property returned to the rightful owners.

With painstaking care, the constables wrote
down all that had happened. After conferring among themselves, they
spoke solemnly about this being the second incident of Pirate Pete
and his cohorts’ moving from London to rob people in their homes in
the country—the first such robbery in Sussex.

“At least this time they didn’t get away
with the booty,” Sergeant Webb muttered, with a nod of
acknowledgment to Ethan. “And the scoundrels lost one of their
own.”

“I am offering a reward, Sergeant, for the
capture of Pirate Pete and the man known as Tiny.” Ethan glanced at
each of the police officers in turn, his eyes very hard, leaving no
doubt of his resolve. “Ten thousand pounds to anyone who provides
information leading to their arrest. Let’s see if that smokes out
someone who knows where these curs skulk and hide.”

“An excellent idea, my lord. Most of them in
the rookery are likely scared to death of Pirate Pete—he’s killed
four men already, so far as we know—but for a sum like that,
someone’s sure to give over a bit of information. But, sir, I
suggest you take care. Once word gets out, Pirate Pete won’t take
kindly to having a price on his head. Things might get tight for
him, if you know what I mean. And also...”

Sergeant Webb paused, choosing his words.
“Pirate Pete has a reputation as a man who won’t take any slight
lightly. He’s bound to be nettled with you for killing one of his
men, and foiling him tonight. You may want to take extra care for
yourself, and your lady, if you know what I mean.”

“I know exactly what you mean.” Ethan’s gaze
shifted to rest upon Josie, motionless and pale on the sofa. “I’ll
take care of what’s mine,” he said grimly.

Josie gave her head a shake as he advanced
toward her.

She knew what he was planning even before he
reached out his arms.

“I’m able to walk,” she protested. “It’s my
arm that is hurt. My feet are in good working order, Ethan.”

“Yes, my lord, that’s exactly right. You
ought to take good care of the sweet dear,” Miss Perry cried
approvingly as the Earl of Stonecliff swept up his bride as if she
weighed no more than a kitten.

“Cousin Clara!” Miss Crenshaw snapped. The
sight of the handsome earl carrying that chestnut-haired girl in
his arms as if she were some fragile treasure that might break
filled her with unreasonable jealousy. She was in her second Season
and no one in or out of London had yet looked at her with the kind
of intensity she had seen sizzling in the Earl of Stonecliff’s eyes
when he gazed at his bride.

“I have a headache, Clara,” she sniffed
piteously. “I require rest, a glass of ratafia, a cool cloth—I need
you to attend to me, if you can spare yourself from fawning over
Lady Stonecliff....”

The black-haired girl’s voice faded
disconsolately away as the young countess was carried across the
drawing room.

“There, there.” Comfortingly, Lady
Tattersall patted Rosamund Crenshaw’s arm. “We’ll all feel much
more the thing tomorrow, I daresay. Though I shan’t sleep a wink
all night.”

“Nor I,” Oliver Winthrop declared. He mopped
his brow with an already sopping handkerchief. “Sergeant, I require
your men to see me back to my inn. The Green Duck. And a guard must
be posted outside all through the night.”

Josie didn’t hear the police sergeant’s
reply for Ethan bore her into the hall without so much as a
backward glance or a good night. Lady Tattersall’s belated farewell
echoed through the hall after them, but he didn’t slow his steps or
respond in any way.

“How rude of you,” she murmured as he
carried her effortlessly down the dark, tree-lined drive toward the
carriage.

“Seems I’m rusty on all the little
niceties,” he growled, his arms tightening around her as he glanced
down at her wan face. The moonlight revealed the weariness and pain
behind her eyes, though she tried to hide it with a weak smile. But
she couldn’t hide her beauty, shining out like a luminous moonbeam,
even after what she’d been through. And she couldn’t hide her
strength either. Ethan was remembering how steady she’d been
through the entire ordeal, how she’d tried to help Lady Tattersall,
how she’d swung that candlestick at Tiny when she thought
he
was in danger.

And it had cost her dearly.

Somewhere inside of him, he vowed that Tiny
would one day pay, and pay in spades, for what he’d done to
her.

“What is it? You look so fierce,” Josie
whispered as they neared the carriage and the footman threw open
the door.

“It’s nothing. It needn’t concern you.”

Nestled against the implacable solidity of
his chest, Josie marveled at how safe and comforted she felt.
Pampered. A unique feeling. No one had ever paid much attention to
her hurts or her feelings. She was sure that it was only for show,
however—that for the sake of their charade, Ethan was determined to
demonstrate to everyone how solicitous he was of his “wife.”

That was why, when they were settled in the
carriage, and quite alone, she was surprised to find him still
watching her intently, a worried frown between his brows.

“You don’t have to fuss over me anymore,
Ethan. No one is watching.”

“I’m not fussing over you.”

“What do you call it then?”

“Taking care of you.” His tone was curt.
“You had a bad time of it tonight. And you handled it
admirably.”

Josie lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “It’s
not the first time I’ve been around brutes and thieves,” she
explained. She was so matter-of-fact that anger twisted through
him. Anger at the rough times she had known, of experiences that
must have branded her for better or worse, where possibly—if it was
true that she was an orphan—no one had been there to look out for
her, to give a damn if she was hurt or afraid or alone.

With a flash of shame he remembered how
roughly he’d treated her that first day in the alley, and again on
the train.

“We were all so worried about Colonel
Hamring that no one thought to ask you.” Josie’s luminous violet
eyes were turned upon him with such vibrant concern that for a
moment Ethan lost himself in them. “Are you all right?” she asked,
searching his face. “Are you hurt?”

“I’ve been hurt worse.”

“What you did tonight—I’ve never seen
anything so brave. You fought all three of them, with no one to
help you.”

“You helped me.”

She smiled ruefully, shook her head. “I
tried, but—”

“You helped. It took courage to go after
Tiny that way. And look what it got you,” he added, suddenly
reaching for her arm. Gently he lifted it, pulled back the sleeve
of her gown, and in the lamplight studied the bruises marring her
pale flesh.

The icy fury coiled tighter inside him.
Suddenly a vision of Molly flashed into his brain. He remembered
Molly’s pain, Molly’s suffering. Molly’s death. All because of
him.

He cursed under his breath and released her,
throwing himself back in his seat. “If you want out of our deal,
just say so,” he said in a short, hard voice that held an
undercurrent of tension so powerful, it vibrated through the air.
“I won’t hold you to it under the circumstances.”

“What circumstances?”

“There’s a cutthroat gang that might come
after me, according to the constable. You didn’t bargain on that
when we set up this marriage arrangement. I’ll put you on a ship
for America tomorrow if you want to cut your losses and run.”

“Where I come from, a deal is a deal.”

“Not if I say you can break it.”

She shook her head, and several wispy curls
that had escaped their pins during the fray tumbled into her eyes.
She pushed them back. “I’m not interested in breaking it,” she told
Ethan in a low tone, wondering why he looked so grim, why he was
suddenly willing to forfeit everything when before it had seemed so
important.

He was silent, staring at her. “So. You must
enjoy living the high life. Willing to take risks to keep the fancy
roof over your head, all these pretty dresses... it’s only for six
months, sweetheart,” he reminded her coldly now, for part of him
hoped she would decide to run for it, to bolt back to America. He
didn’t want her blood on his conscience, too. He was suddenly
beginning to feel that he was very bad luck for beautiful
women.

“I have my reasons,” she said in a quiet
tone, and there was a flush of pride in her cheeks now, one that
enhanced the brilliance of her eyes, and made her look all the more
stunning as she sat in his carriage, her back very straight against
the ruby velvet squabs.

“So you’re staying the course.”

“That’s right.”

“And you’re not afraid.”

I’m more afraid of returning to America—of
having Snake find me. Of never locating Alicia Denby, or
discovering who I am. And of never seeing you again.

But aloud she said the other truth that was
rolling around in her head. “I don’t believe you’d let anything
awful happen to me.”

Silence filled the carriage. Outside, the
darkness was thick and close, but for the faint sheen of moonlight
silvering the treetops and hedges that lined the road. She saw
Ethan’s brows draw together, sensed the tension ricocheting through
him. For a moment he looked thunderstruck, then he gained control
of himself and bit out with a savagery that quickened her
heartbeat, “How can you trust me so much when I don’t trust you
worth a damn?”

When she just stared at him, he leaned
forward and cupped her chin imperatively. “Answer me.” The words
seemed torn from him.

They brought forth an answering torrent from
her.

“I saw you back there. You fought all of
them. You weren’t even afraid. You protected me. No one’s ever done
that.” She rushed on, the words tumbling out. “And another thing.
You speak your mind—not many people do, at least, not many I’ve
known. So often they’d come to the orphanage and say they wanted to
adopt a child—to raise and care for one—but when they brought me
home with them, all they really wanted was someone to do chores and
ease the burden on their farms or in their stores. You’ve set out
what you expect me to do, and you’ve been plain about it from the
start.”

His eyes glinted at this, and she hurried
on, trying to finish before she became too embarrassed and lost her
nerve. “And there’s more. I sense something in you... I can’t
explain it, but I don’t think you’d let anything happen to me.
You’re not that kind of man.”

“You have no idea what kind of man I am.” It
was a snarl, ripped from his throat. Where before he had seemed
restrained, almost approachable, now she saw fury.

“Why are you so angry?” Josie took a breath,
alarmed by the rigid tautness of that lean face, by the granite
flash of his eyes. “Because I trust you? Because maybe I—”

“
What?”

“Like you... a little.”

“You’re a fool.” He leaned back in his seat
and laughed at her, a cold, hard, infuriating laugh that hurt more
than if he’d struck her across the face. “I’ve done nothing to make
you like me or trust me. And as for me, there are few people I
like, and fewer even that I trust. And you’re not among them, my
fine little thief. But I’m responsible for you, so I’ll see you
come to no harm while you’re... what? Married to me? In my employ?
Which term best describes our little arrangement?”

“No words can do justice to it,” Josie
cried, stung. She was shaking now, fighting back tears. The
tentative emotions of trust and warmth had vanished, and anger was
seeping in. Anger with herself as much as with him, for having
dared let down her guard for a moment. She’d mistaken his
playacting concern for the real thing, she’d actually told him that
she liked him, she’d tried to be a friend to him and he was turning
it on her, making her feel a fool.

You are a fool,
a frantic voice
whispered inside of her head.
To feel about him as you do. He
hates you. You’re nothing but the worst kind of stupid, senseless
fool.

Tears burned. She turned her face away and
stared blindly out of the carriage window. Suddenly her arm hurt
again, but not nearly as much as her heart. She longed for
Stonecliff Park, for the solitude of her room, her bed, to be free
of his presence, free to weep in privacy, to soak her pillow with
tears, and pour out all the agony of her heart.

The carriage ride home seemed endless. When
the horses halted at last in the sweeping drive, Josie flung
herself at the carriage door before the footman could even jump
down to open it. She leapt out into the fresh night air, and
clutching her skirt, started at a run up the walk, but Ethan was
there beside her in a flash, his hand heavy on her shoulder,
spinning her around.