Never Wager Against Love (Kellington Book Three) (10 page)

Arthur looked at her eyes which were bright with excitement,
her chin so firm with determination.  And damned, if he didn’t feel some of
that excitement himself.

When they finished their meal, Arthur took himself off to
the tap to give Vanessa a chance to ready herself for bed and to figure out
what he would do about her seduction.  While it was true he needed to maintain
his distance emotionally – which had never been a problem with any other woman
– he knew he’d never be able to share a room with her, let alone a bed, without
seducing her.  She’d responded to his kisses in the carriage in a way that
assured Arthur his instincts had been right about her.  She was too passionate
to be a virgin, although she was hesitant enough to make him believe it had
been quite some time since she’s last engaged in a tryst.  He would be only too
happy to help her make up for lost time.

He had to be careful in his approach.  Because this would be
no one-night endeavor.  Even if she didn’t become his mistress when the mission
was done – and he’d do everything he could to persuade her to do so – they
would be together until the end of her assignment, which might mean several
days, if not weeks.  It would be hard to keep her safe if she ordered him out
of her sight.  He had to make sure she wanted him to stay close.

As Arthur finished his ale, he thought about the likely
scene he would find upstairs.  She would be in bed, probably wearing some
hideously sensible night rail.   She’d be a little nervous and he made a mental
note to calm her skittishness, much like one would take extra care breaking a high-spirited
horse to the bridle.  After taking off his jacket, perhaps he’d sit on the edge
of the bed and make light conversation, as he divested himself of vest and
cravat.  They might share a few laughs.  Because if there was one thing he
could count on with the quick-witted Vanessa, it was conversation that actually
engaged him.  He never had to endure comments about the weather or fashion.  He
wasn’t sure she could even talk of such things, unless it was what kind of
weather was best for surveillance or the ideal clothing to wear when concealing
a weapon.

After getting her to relax through conversation, and having
successfully stripped down to shirt and trousers, he would pull her toward him
for a kiss.  She’d eagerly meet his lips, then engage him thoroughly.  He would
cup a breast through her practical night rail and she would moan sweetly in
response.  Then he’d divest her of the gown and she would reach to touch him
through his clothing.  He wasn’t sure how he wanted to take her the first
time.  He knew he wanted to see her on top of him.  He wanted to watch her go
wild as she rode him with abandon.  And she would go wild.  She was no meek
miss, nor a bored London widow.  She was a passionate, physical woman and he
couldn’t wait to see how that translated in bed. 

Without thought, his aroused body led him from the tap to
their room.  He rapped quietly then entered, locking the door behind him.  What
he saw next brought him up short.  Instead of the slightly shy woman in a night
rail he thought would be waiting for him, Vanessa was on the far side of the
bed, in her shift – which looked to be government issue for prison inmates –
and reading over her notes.  There was also a blanket slung over a rope which
divided his half of the bed from hers. 

“What, may I ask, is that?” he asked, as he motioned to the
blanket.

Vanessa didn’t look up from her papers.  “It is a blanket. 
I’m surprised you would have to ask.  Doesn’t Kellington Castle have any?”

“It’s not a castle,” he replied dryly.  “It’s a simple
country manor with several dozen rooms.  I shall be more specific.  Why is that
blanket dividing the bed rather than lying on top of it?”

“Really, Lord Arthur,” she said, still not looking up.  “I
should think it would be obvious.  I didn’t want to sleep on the floor and I
had a feeling you wouldn’t want to, either…”

“You are correct.”

“So I had to devise a way to give us both privacy while not
interfering with the comfort to which you are accustomed.  I think it’s rather
ingenious.”

“I think it’s rather bothersome and quite unnecessary.”

“How so?”  This time she did put down the papers.

“This is not the first time we’ve slept in close proximity. 
And if I was able to resist you then, I can manage to do the same tonight.  Unless,
of course, you had to resort to the blanket because you weren’t sure if you
could keep from ravishing me.”

The immediate blush that flooded her countenance was
immensely gratifying.   

Vanessa rather belatedly schooled her features into a prim
and proper miss.  “I assure you that I would just as soon kiss a mad dog than
be subjected to another of your embraces.  Now, would you like to discuss
strategy for tomorrow?”

“Does it involve rounding up a mad dog?” asked Arthur as he
began to undress.

“I would prefer that you do that over there,” she said, as
she gestured to the screen in the corner of the room.

“If you insist,” said Arthur, not quite resisting a smile,
as he saw her glance nervously at him.  “And I suppose you prefer that I wear
clothing to bed.”

“A night shirt will suffice,” she said, looking more and
more nervous.

“Then I should have packed one,” he said.  “Never mind, I shall
make do with my small clothes.”

“As for tomorrow, I believe we should get an early start and
take a roundabout route to the castle.  It would be best to know if we’re being
followed.”   She stopped speaking as Arthur came out from behind the screen.  His
small clothes did nothing to disguise the magnificent form underneath.  And her
mind went back to seeing him naked in the tub.  She quickly turned away, threw
her papers on the floor and curled into the blankets.

Arthur smiled as strode to the bed.  “Miss Gans, would you
like to continue the discussion of our plans for the morrow?”

“No, thank you,” came the muffled reply.  “I’m sure we can decide
in the morning.  Good night, Lord Arthur.”

“Good night, Miss Gans,” he said, as he got in bed on his
side of the blasted blanket.  He was achingly hard and knew there would be no
relief that night.  But soon.  If he was any judge of women – and he most
certainly had enough experience – he knew it would be soon.

CHAPTER SIX

Norwich Castle was on a hill surrounded by the remains of a
moat, which, judging from the smells one encountered within several hundred
yards of the castle, also served as a sewage repository.   Unfortunately, the
smell was not made better by the existence of a large cattle market in the
fields surrounding the castle.  When the wind shifted toward them, Arthur had
everything he could do to keep from losing the breakfast he and Vanessa had
just eaten.  It would be particularly embarrassing to be sick in front of her,
but as he glanced at her, he realized she looked as green as he felt.

He handed her a handkerchief as he put another to his nose. 
“Breathe through your mouth, love.”  She took the handkerchief gratefully, as
they hurried toward the castle entrance.

Built by William the Conqueror in the late 11
^th
Century, the castle was constructed of white stone.  But several centuries of
grime now clung to the building, giving it an ashy grey exterior.  As Arthur
reached the gates and looked up at the boxy, three-story building, he realized
the look of it was nearly as depressing as the smell.

They were met at the door by armed guards who were suspicious
of why anyone would willingly enter the premises, especially when Arthur and Vanessa
said they weren’t there to see a prisoner.  That seemed to disappoint one of
the guards in particular, who no doubt was calculating how big of a bribe he
could extract from the well-dressed gentleman.  Finally, after Vanessa used the
professor’s name and, more importantly, Arthur mentioned Lynwood, they were
shown into the great hall to wait while one of the guards went to fetch the
warder.

The hall was two stories tall, with a wooden ceiling.  At
one point long ago, a mural may have been painted on it.  Now it was simply a
series of beams made of rotting wood which contributed to the pervasive stench
of decay.  The stone walls were covered with even more grime than the ones
outside, due to centuries’ worth of soot from the fireplaces.  If the building
had ever been cleaned, it had been in a previous era.    

The floor was hard packed dirt with some straw strewn about,
although there was likely a foundation of smooth stone if one dug deep enough. 
Arthur wondered whether he’d be forced to throw away the Hoby boots he was
wearing.  At the very least, he’d be spending a fortune in vales to the servant
who would clean his and Vanessa’s boots that night.

The haunting sounds of the prison floated up to them from
the floors below.  The prisoners – men, women and children – were kept in
crowded cells with little light and virtually no sanitation.  The mortality
rate at most prisons was alarmingly high.  A simple outbreak of influenza could
wipe out half the population, with the women and children dying first.  Only
those who could pay for a surgeon had a chance of surviving.  Sometimes entire
families were held in the same gaol, and it was quite difficult to get out
alive, especially if there was no advocate for them on the outside.  Even when
the sentence had been served in full, it was common practice to have to pay the
gaolers to let them go.  

Vanessa shivered at the very thought of what was going on in
the bowels of the castle.  Immediately, Arthur’s arm reached around her
shoulders.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

She shook her head, unable to explain why the place was
having such an effect on her.  “I just want to have our business concluded as
quickly as possible.”

“As do I,” he agreed.  “I have no wish to linger here.”

Just then, the guard returned with a rather short, thin man
with a waxed mustache.

“You said you wanted to see the warder?” the genial man
asked Arthur.  “I be he.  Sergeant Phineas Flagstone, at your service, sir.” 
He bowed to them both.

“Is there somewhere we might speak?  Perhaps a place to sit
down?” asked Arthur, who was worried about Vanessa’s pallor.

“Of course!” said the sergeant.  “Follow me, if you please.”

They followed Sergeant Flagstone up a flight of stairs, past
storerooms and offices filled with guards and the occasional civilian.  There
were boxes and trunks piled in a haphazard manner throughout the building.  Few
signs indicated their direction and by the time they reached the sergeant’s
office, Arthur had lost track of their route.  After moving a box of files from
two rather wobbly chairs, Sergeant Flagstone asked them to have a seat and took
his own behind a desk.

“May I order some tea for you ma’am?” he asked.

Vanessa shook her head.  Some of the color had come back to
her face during their expedition through the building.  “That is very kind of
you, but I don’t believe….”

“Watkins!” called Sergeant Flagstone to his adjutant. 
“Bring some tea for our guests.”  He looked back at them apologetically for the
interruption.  “I don’t get many visitors.  So, what can I do for you?”

“Well, sergeant,” began Vanessa.  “We’re on a mission for
the Crown.”

Sergeant Flagstone blinked.  “I don’t follow.”

Vanessa began again.  “I am an agent with the Home Office….”

The sergeant began to laugh.  “That’s a rich one, it is!  A
female being an agent for the Home Office.”  He turned to Arthur.  “Are you two
part of some theater troupe come to ask to put on a show?  I’ve always been a
fan of the theater, I have.  Although usually the opera dancers are dressed a
bit more….”  Here, he looked Vanessa up and down, taking in the drab brown gown
she was wearing.  “….fancifully.”

“See here, sergeant,” said Vanessa, bristling.  “We are not
part of a theater troupe and I am certainly not an opera dancer.  I truly am an
agent with the Home Office.”

The sergeant laughed again.  “You sure are a persistent one,
I’ll give you that.  And a right looker, if we was to fix you up a bit.  Maybe
one of them dresses that shows the ankles, trimmed with some feathers.  I do
like a good feather gown.”

“Sergeant Flagstone, if I may,” said Arthur in an attempt to
keep as much of the sergeant’s foot out of his mouth as possible, even if it
did seem already fully swallowed.  “I assure you that Miss Gans is telling you
the truth.  She is an agent with the Crown.”

Sergeant Flagstone was no longer laughing, but was now
extremely suspicious.

“I’ve never heard of no female agent.”

“Neither had I until just recently,” said Arthur.  “But I
assure you she’s one of the best agents the Home Office has.”

Sergeant Flagstone thought about that for a moment.  “How
many other agents have you met?”

“Enough to know,” said Arthur, hoping the man wouldn’t ask
for names.  He’d met very few agents in his life, but had no doubt that Vanessa
was one of the best, if for no other reason than she bested him at every
opportunity.

“And who are you?” asked Flagstone.

“I am Lord Arthur Kellington, brother to the Duke of
Lynwood.”

Sergeant Flagstone now looked thoroughly confused.  “She
didn’t arrest you, did she?”

“Certainly not,” said Vanessa.  “Lord Arthur has been
helping me on a mission.  We are here to…”

She broke off as the adjutant brought the tea.  Arthur
glanced at his dirty cup, then immediately looked for a place to dispose of its
contents.

Vanessa began again.  “We believe two villains may be trying
to steal the Larsen broadsword.  We are here to take possession of it until the
threat has passed.  It will, of course, be returned to you afterward.”