The beating of her heart had her gasping for air, and the exhaustion she felt left her as adrenalin pumped through her veins.
The boat moved solidly through the causeway, forking, circling with the winding movements of the dike, and then she saw the little arched bridge that marked Wimborne lands. Her joy burst from her lips. “Oh, Kit, we are home—we are really nearly home!”
“Not yet,
my
love—and I have the unshakable feeling that it is not over just yet.”
There it was again—the unmistakable sound of gunfire in the wind. Myriah winced and listened, and like the men in the galley with her, she heard them. Dragoons had spotted them, even in the dim light … and their horses were trampling through weeds and marsh to get at them.
Myriah heard
Corporal Stone’s voice and realized how close they really were. Faith, he was a determined man. He must have waited all night for their return. No doubt he had planted himself and his men at the head of the dike.
“Can … can he actually see us?” she asked Kit.
“Hurry, lads,” Kit whispered. He then touched her face. “Not really, but he can hear the galley trudging through the marsh. We might be taking a swim tonight.”
Just as Kit said this, she felt the vines and driftwood parting all around. Suddenly they were in total darkness. They were in the cavern, and the silence as they waited blasted through her ears. She heard herself breathe and put a hand to her heart, sure that everyone could hear its pounding.
They waited, no one looking at the other, for all eyes were turned to the cavern ceiling above them. Myriah heard the water lap at the boat and wondered if the dragoons would be able to hear and recognize the sound.
“Fiend seize you stupid brutes!” Stone shouted at his men just above their cavern.
They heard the trampling of horses above their heads. They heard the shouting and the retreating as the dragoons scurried up and down along the dike, searching for the galley, and the gentlemen waited.
Twenty minutes might be thought to be a short space of
time, but to the crew in
the cavern, whose lives hung in the wind, it was damnably long.
At last, the silence was undeniable, and Kit lit a lantern that was set on the cavern wall. Myriah saw a wooden ladder hanging against the moss-cov
ered wall that led to the ceiling above.
“Right then, lads,”
Kit
quietly said, grinning, “We have come through but we
will
have to swim home. No sense risking coming up through here—so boots off and into the water with you. My promises still hold—so wait for my word early next week!”
He watched his men as they grumbled quietly to themselves and slumped over into the water, making the brackish wetness spray all about.
Kit turned to Myriah. “Now you, love
, I
am afraid you are in for another swim today, but I’ll set you before the fire and see to you at home.”
“Well, as to that, I think it was yesterday I took that swim. I was due for another.” Myriah laughed. She slipped off his cloak and her boots and tied the laces carefully together before slinging them round her neck.
He picked her up and eased her into the cold water, and she screeched quietly to herself.
His lordship left his boots in the galley for future retrieving. He doused the light and was in beside Myriah a moment later. They swam, and waded, and swam with slow, quiet breaststrokes until they were out of the cavern’s darkness and making their way downstream.
“Are you all right, my love?”
“’Tis not so very bad in the water—but, Kit, when we get out, we shall freeze. I left your cloak in the galley … does it matter?”
“My cloak? Dash it, girl—how could
you when it
needed a washing!” Kit teased.
She giggled, and they continued to swim until she could see the arched bridge above them. They made their way towards the embankment, and Kit scrambled into position as he turned and helped pull her out. She stopped only long enough to put on her slippers but grimaced at them for she knew they would soon be ruined.
The breeze was uncomfortable as it hit their wet bodies, and they ran the distance across the meadow until Myriah pulled away from his hold and bent over her knees. She sucked in air, and he touched her shoulder. “Myriah …?”
She heard the concern in his voice and waved it off as she nodded and returned her hand into his. The wet gown weighed her down and made it difficult, but she managed to jog along with him to the dirt pathway that led toward the Wimborne Drive.
They passed the stables, where Fletcher, wrapped in a blanket, met them at the open entrance, nodded, and turned to make his way to his quarters above the barn. Myriah smiled to herself, sure that Tabby would have endless questions for her in the morning. Goodness, it was morning!
Finally they were standing dripping in the center hallway of Wimborne Towers. They turned, saw each other, and laughed.
“Eh!”
Billy shouted from above stairs. “Kit, Myriah—Kit?”
“Yes, Billy—hold a moment,” Kit said,
taking
Myriah’s hand and leading her up the stairs to Billy’s room. They arrived in young Wimborne’s room and stood there sopping wet, looking ridiculous while Billy took one long look at them and burst out laughing. He attempted to speak, pointed instead, and went
off
into another peal.
“Go take
a
damper!” Myriah snapped good-naturedly and then turned to Kit. “I’m going to get out of these wet clothes.”
Kit outmaneuvered her and rushed to her room
before
her, a wicked grin on his face, “Where do you
think you
are going, my lord?” she asked.
“To your room,
my
love,” he said whimsically. “To er … light your fire”
She sucked in her breath and trembled. She could not help but see Billy in the background, a grin taking over his face.
A moment later, Kit was turning her to face him and making good on his words. With deft skill he had her sopping clothes torn and off her body. She murmured a complaint, and he whispered, “There are some gowns in the attic … we’ll make do …” His lips traveled down her neckline and then back up to her face, her chin, and finally her mouth. He parted her lips, and his tongue played a staccato tune with hers, teasing, cajoling, taking …
She reached for his breeches and found they were already undone, but he stepped back to throw off his wet cutaway and shirt, and she helped pull down his breeches. This time, she stood away and stared. “You are beautiful,” she whispered.
He snorted. “The word is handsome!”
“Looking at you here and now … ’tis not enough, you are more …”
He picked her up and placed her on the bed. He turned her on her belly and started massaging her neck, her shoulders, her back, and then her ass. He worked her butt until she started to lift off the bed and say his name. He put his finger to her clit and teased until she pushed back at him, and then he discovered that his cock was taking over, dispelling any clear thought, and screaming her name. He rubbed it all over her ass and said on a hushed note, “Ask for it, beauty … tell me what you want.”
“You know what I want—what do
you
want?”
“I damn well want to fuck you.” He felt as feral as he sounded, as primal as the action when he shoved himself inside her with a pure groan of ecstasy.
~ Eleven ~
“SO THERE YOU have it, Billy,” Kit said, leaning back against the hard wood chair and sipping his coffee in a happy and leisurely fashion.
“Yes, indeed—there I have it! Damn—of all the paltry things to
say,
Kit.” Billy snorted disgustedly as he shook his head.
Kit laughed. “Now what? Lord, but you’re pesky lad.”
“Pesky …? Here I sit … while you go off and have the most splendid adventure of them all—chased by the
Swallow
herself! Dragoons all
over
the place … why, I’d have given almost anything to have been in it,” Billy said sincerely.
Kit chuckled. “Young scamp.” He looked at the mantel-clock. The hour was well past ten, and Myriah was not back yet from her walk. He found that he missed her … wanted her near. He said, as much to himself as to Billy, “She is taking an awfully long walk.”
“Devil a bit—she loves walking.” He sighed. “Didn’t I tell you Kit, that one is pluck to the backbone. Said it
was her orders I stay in bed, and Tabby made sure of that, more afraid of her than of me. Imagine, Kit.” Billy chuckled.
He wanted to see her—be near her … touch her. Last night he had made love to her until they fell asleep, and she had kissed him as she got out of bed to go wash, saying she needed a walk. He’d been waiting for her to get back, wanting to tell her how he felt … wanting to get down on one knee.
He said as he got up, “Damnation, Billy, she should be back.”
“Lord, you are in a fidget.” Billy grinned. “Why don’t you just go meet her?” He watched his brother with keen eyes.
“Confound it!” Kit exclaimed, suddenly breaking into a determined stride. “I think I
will
go find her!”
He took a walk that led him past the stables. Fletcher was there, and he asked, “Have you seen Miss White, Fletcher?”
“Aye. She and Tabson left almost two hours ago … seemed to be in a hurry.”
A sickly sensation swept through him. He knew her real name was not Miss White. He knew that Myriah had secrets. Would she have left … could she have left him … was their night together a good-bye?
He recalled now how she looked at him this morning and touched his face. He had thought it strange at the time and had held her hand, asking, “What?”
“I want this memory always …”
“You can have more than memory, sweet.”
She had laughed and once more turned to look at him.
He pulled himself up and stared at Fletcher. “Which way did they go?”
“Aye then, they
took the Post Road … away from Rye, and Oi only know that cuz Miss … she was cryin’, and it set me to thinkin’ they was leaving … her and Tabby … so Oi cut through the pasture, Oi did, jest to have a look which way they would go.”
Kit Wimborne knew one thing: he didn’t want to live without her. Why hadn’t he told her last night how he felt, told her the truth about the smuggling?
Was that why she left? Was it because of the man, Sir Roland? Did he have something to do with this? What was her connection with him?
As though fate had decided to give him an answer, Sir Roland himself appeared. The man slowly walked his horse up the drive and stopped to nod and ask, “Is Lady Myriah up at the house?”
“Lady Myriah?” Kit felt as though someone had smacked him. Why hadn’t he seen it? “No … no, she is not.”
“I have an appointment with her. Could you direct me to her?” Sir Roland asked, looking wary.
“Even if I could I would not,” Kit retorted irritably. “What business do you have with her?”
“She is my fiancé … we had a bit of a row, but we were leaving today. I am escorting her back to London before a scandal breaks out about her … questionable activities here at Wimborne.”
Kit said, almost under his breath, “She wouldn’t go with you.”
“She doesn’t have a choice. She will be ruined otherwise.” There was a hard note in Roland’s tone.
Kit’s thoughts smacked one another. She had run away again. Where would she go? “I am telling you the truth. Lady Myriah and her groom left us, and I have no notion of her direction.”
“If you are lying to me, Lord Wimborne, it will not go well for you or Myriah!” Sir Roland hissed as he turned his horse and left Kit staring after him.