Love's Misadventure (The Mason Siblings Series Book 1) (14 page)

Shame washed over her. Lane should not feel the need to apologize; he had done his best. If she had not been so very concerned with her own welfare, she would have realized that he must be sore, as well. For goodness’ sake, he had carried her to their bedchamber last night!

Anna strode forward and placed her hand on Lane’s chest. His heart beat rapidly beneath her palm as he watched her questioningly. “Thank you, Lane,” she whispered.

She was aware of the servants and patrons going about their business in the innyard, the dogs roaming, the chickens clucking… But she didn’t care. Here, they were husband and wife, Mr. and Mrs. Roberts.

Anna pressed her lips to his in a short kiss. The contact sent a tingle of awareness through her that she determinedly ignored. “I appreciate what you have done for me,” she murmured, her gaze catching his.

He cleared his throat. “I must remember to do more for you if that is how I am thanked.” He winked, and Anna laughed.

She turned to the chestnut gelding with the sidesaddle upon his back. “Hello, handsome boy,” Anna cooed. She gave him a pat before allowing Lane to assist her in mounting him.

“His name is Rainbow,” Lane said.

Anna blinked.

Lane continued, “Apparently, his master’s daughter named him.”

“Ah.” Anna nodded her understanding as she attempted to tug her skirts over her woefully exposed ankles.

There was nothing for it. She could not very well bemoan the loss of her riding habit; the thing had become a veritable pile of rags. She turned to smile down at Lane who was frowning at her stockings.

“Come, Lane. Let us return home.” She sat with her spine stiff as her bare hands controlled Rainbow’s reins. “I would hate to miss the steaming cup of chocolate and good book that await my arrival.”

His frown disappeared, replaced by a challenging grin. He mounted his grey gelding in a smooth, practiced motion. “The first one there wins a kiss.”

* * *

The sun hit Lane’s brown coat, which seemed to soak it up and multiply the heat before it reached his skin beneath. He wiped at his forehead and around his neck with a kerchief before he returned it to his pocket.

They had been riding for hours. His body ached, but he relished the movement of the beast beneath him. He had missed riding. The sense of freedom was exhilarating.

The horses’ hooves pounded the dirt-and-gravel road, the hammering of his heart echoed in his ears, and the mingling of his and the horses’ breath resounded in the air around them.

Their morning meal had been large and satisfying, but he could feel hunger beginning to gnaw at his stomach. They had stopped to water and rest their mounts at the inns that they passed, but they would want a more extended rest soon.

He led his mount to ride beside Anna’s. Once he’d gotten her attention, he slowed Pigeon to a trot, and Anna followed suit with Rainbow.

“Would you care to stop at the next inn for a meal?” he called over the din.

Anna beamed at him. “You have read my thoughts precisely.”

He nodded with a smile of his own then nudged his mount faster.

The inn was not terribly far down the road. They rode into the small innyard, and a groom ran out from the stables and held their horses while Lane dismounted. He resisted the urge to shake out the stiffness in his legs, but cringed as one hip popped in its socket.

He rounded the horses and lowered Anna to her feet, a bolt of pleasure shooting through his hands and down his arms at the contact.

Lane willed his heartbeat to decelerate as he tossed the groom a coin. The young lad caught it midair with a nod. “I’ll ’ave ’em brushed, fed, watered, ’n’ rested fer ye, sirrah.”

“I am much obliged,” Lane returned.

The inn was not particularly large, but the building appeared to be well maintained. A maid reached out of an upper floor window and flicked a cloth in the air, dust falling from it.

Anna accepted Lane’s arm, her small hand wrapped tightly around his elbow, and he led her toward the inn’s front door.

A large dog lifted his head as they entered, but he soon resumed his nap near the door. Lane scanned the room for the innkeeper, and spotted him in deep discussion with two men near the door to a back room.

“Charles?” Anna’s voice was soft, but one of the men in conversation spun around.

Hell, what is he doing here?

Anna’s gasp rent the air. “
Charles
!” She released Lane’s arm and ran to her brother.

“
Annabel
?” Charles’ eyes were wide. “Thank God!” He opened his arms and caught her in a hug.

Lane watched the reunion with a mixture of relief and annoyance. He was most certainly relieved that they had another man there to aid in preventing another kidnapping or attack should their abductors catch up to them, but he was damned annoyed that now he could not request a private dining room…or a bedchamber to
freshen up
.

His heart sped at the thought. Blazes, but he was far gone in his lust for Anna.

Tears streamed down Annabel’s cheeks, and an uncomfortable knot wedged itself in Lane’s chest. Was she so distraught with their misadventure, then? Guilt assailed him. He’d thought she was well. Had he not been attentive enough to her needs?

“Oh Charles, I am so pleased to see you!” Anna’s grip tightened around her brother as Lane strode toward them.

“Where have you been, Annabel? How are you? Are you hurt? How did you get away? Where ar—” Charles paused, his jaw taut. “Why do we not have this conversation where we might have a modicum of privacy?”

Lane stepped forward, putting a hand on Anna’s shoulder. “I would suggest a private dining room, as Anna has not yet eaten a midday meal.”

The Major sent him a terse nod then turned to the innkeeper. “Would you be so kind as to show us to a private dining room, if you have one available, Mr. Barlow?”

The man nodded his balding head. “Right this way, Major Bradley, Mr. Thomson.” He nodded again at Lane and Anna, as though to include them.

Anna dabbed at her eyes with the back of her hand as they followed the innkeeper. The third man in the group marched silently beside them, his expression impassive. Who was he? What was he doing here? How did he know Charles?

Lane’s internal questions floated about unanswered as Mr. Barlow led them into a large, modestly furnished dining room.

“I will have a meal prepared for the four of you. My wife will bring it in directly.”

“You are very kind, sir. Thank you.” Charles inclined his head.

The innkeeper smiled at them as he backed from the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

Lane pulled a well-padded chair out for Anna, waited for her to be seated, then took the chair beside her. His heart ached for her distress. Her cheeks and eyes were red and slightly swollen. If only he could take her into his arms and comfort her with his kisses and his avowal of love…

The chair scraped along the floor as Charles took the seat across from them. His expression was entirely indecipherable. It boded ill. What was Charles doing this far from London? Was he searching for Anna? Did he fear that
Lane
had taken her?

Lane’s gaze flicked toward the enigmatic Mr. Thomson, who hovered just inside the closed door.

“From the beginning, if you will.” Charles cleared his throat. “I would like to hear first Anna’s detailed account of the events, and then I would like to hear it from Lane’s perspective. Do not leave anything out, no matter how minute or unimportant you feel that the detail might be.” He paused to watch them both. “Anna?”

Suddenly she looked drawn and pale, her lips quivering ever so slightly. Lane interjected on her behalf. “Charles, why do you not allow me to speak first? Anna requires sustenance; she can eat while I recount events.”

Charles shifted in his seat, his jaw clenched. “Very well. Please begin, Lane.”

Lan
e gently cleared his throat and began his relation of the events leading up to the kidnapping. He noted the disapproval in Charles’ expression as he explained his plan for hiring actors to abduct Anna and himself, but that swiftly changed as he continued his account.

Lane went into as much detail as possible; he made sure to mention descriptions of all four captors, their names—but for the unnamed, red-haired man—and the fact that Billy had broken his arm in the carriage accident. He described their method of escape, their change of attire and identity, their near re-capture on the mail coach, and their stay at the inn last evening, naturally withholding any information on his and Anna’s newfound intimate relationship. That was something he most certainly did not wish to discuss with Anna’s older, and very protective, brother.

“We rode for several hours on horseback and decided to stop at this inn for our midday meal. Upon entering, we encountered you and your…mysterious friend.” Lane glanced at Mr. Thomson, who continued to hover enigmatically at the door. “That would bring us to date on the events of the past four days, and my small fiction in the days before.”

While he spoke, their meal had come; a feast of pheasant, lamb, and vegetables with an added tray of tea and cakes. Thankfully, Anna had helped herself to the food and regained some of her colour.

Charles leaned back in his chair, having not touched the meal himself, and eyed Lane thoughtfully. “Interesting. Very interesting. You say that the men were working for a man they called ‘The Boss’?”

“Yes,” Lane confirmed. “They referred to him several times, as a matter of fact. I assume that we were to rendezvous with him somewhere in Dover. What I failed to understand, however, is to what purpose we had been kidnapped. They did not attempt to steal my purse or discuss ransom. And neither of us have been made privy to any kind of political or prudent information that would have been useful to them.”

Guilt and defensive anger mingled and passed over Charles’ expression, but it disappeared so quickly that Lane questioned having seen it at all.

“No one can know for certain what possesses villains to behave as they do. But we can be sure that it will
not
happen again,” Charles stated vehemently. He watched Anna as she took a sip of tea. “Anna, have your nerves calmed enough for you to recount your perspective on the happenings of the past four days?”

Anna shrugged one shoulder. “I do not see the point, as I would relay precisely the same information that Lane has just divulged.” She put her hands up in surrender as she caught Charles’ irritated mien. “I can see, however, that you are quite adamant.” She glanced at Lane and licked at her lips. “I had not heard from Lane for five days after the ball at Almack’s, and I had grown concerned, and, to be truthful, slightly bored. On the fifth day, I received a note stating that he had something about which he wished to discuss with me…”

For the next hour, Lane listened to Anna’s perception of their abduction, travels, their stops, their escape, and journey here. She, too, omitted their sexual encounter, but it was not relief that Lane felt. He had not expected to be so moved by her account. Annabel’s unique way of experiencing the world gave the past four days a dream-like quality. He’d had no notion that Anna had been so affected by the abduction, by the men, the smells, and the way their journey had made her feel.

Anna’s tears were evidence of her inner struggles. She had expressed such anxiety, such worry and horror, that Lane felt as though he were in her mind, living the past four days over again.

He was a cad for having not realized her struggle sooner. She had been so brave, so fearless…

He slid his chair closer to Anna’s and put his arm around her shaking shoulders, pulling her against his chest in a hug. “Shh, shh. Don’t cry, sweetheart. It is quite over now.” His heart leapt as Anna settled into his embrace.

Mr. Thomson stepped forward to whisper something in Charles’ ear. They engaged in a brief, whispered conversation before Thomson straightened and left the room.
Curious
.

“You did not withhold anything, did you, Anna?” Charles combed his fingers through his hair in a gesture of nonchalance, but his eyes were wrought with concern. “I am aware that there was a period of time in which you were unconscious and there were moments in which you and Lane were separated…” He hesitated, seemingly unwilling to continue. “What I am trying to ask is…are you
positive
, Anna, that nothing untoward occurred with these kidnappers?” Charles’ serious demeanour of the past hours melted beneath his brotherly concern.

Anna nodded against Lane’s shoulder. “Yes. I am positive.”

“You mean that you are still…you are still…
chaste
?” Charles choked the last words out.

Anna hesitated at the direct question about her virginity.
Hell and blazes! Please do not answer that question with the truth!

She pulled away, slightly, from Lane’s embrace and opened her mouth to answer. Lane could not allow that to happen. Anna had never been untruthful to her brother, and he would not allow her to begin now. Nor, God forefend, could he allow her to tell the truth!

“Anna has already confirmed that nothing untoward occurred between her and our captors. It is quite evident that re-living the past four days has upset her greatly, and I, for one, am ready to move on. If we wish to be home by nightfall, we should make haste.”

Charles clearly wished to continue with his line of questioning and was displeased with Lane’s interruption, but Lane could not bring himself to care. He turned his gaze down to meet Anna’s stunning blue eyes, still swimming with tears.

“Would you like to continue on with our journey right now, or would you prefer to have some more tea before we depart?”

Anna smiled damply. “I would prefer to leave now, if you please. It would be heavenly to bathe and have a cup of hot chocolate before bed.”

Charles stood. “Very well, but I would like to ask more questions of both of you when you have recovered. I will have a hack brought around.” He sent them both an inscrutable glance before he quit the room.

The moment the door closed, Anna turned to Lane. “Oh! Thank goodness you spoke just then!”