So Worthy My Love (19 page)

Silence answered his plea, and after several repeated attempts to obtain her response, Maxim lifted the latch and pushed the door open. The chamber appeared empty, and he stepped within to have a look around.

“Arabella? Where are you?”

Elise had pressed herself against the wall behind the door and had been well-prepared to launch an attack upon this foolish mortal who had dared enter her chamber. She had frozen when the warm and
vibrant voice stirred memories of a darkened stairway at Bradbury Hall, and she stepped from hiding, lowering the small hearthside stool she had intended to smote the visitor with. Though the man was now dressed in the manner of a wealthy lord and the beard was gone, there was no mistaking the handsome rogue.

“What the deuce . . . ?” A sharp frown quickly creased his brow as his eyes came upon her. “What are you doing here?”

“ ‘Twas you!” The sapphire-blue eyes fairly flashed with sparks of indignation. “ ‘Twas you who bade them take me! And all the while I thought . . . aarrgh!”

In the next instant the stool was hauled back and swung with all the impetus of her outraged fury behind it. Maxim jerked back to avoid the clumsy weapon, and though he stared in utter amazement at the seething girl, the stool came around again with the same dire intent. The need to disarm the maid seemed of vital importance to his continued good health, and he reached up, plucking it easily from her grasp.

“Where is Arabella?” he demanded sharply. His eyes swept quickly to every corner of the chamber, but the one he sought was nowhere to be seen.

“Arabella, is it?” Elise snarled the question venomously. So! He had bade his men to fetch Arabella, and they had caught her instead. Her fair lips curbed with contempt as she continued. “No doubt Arabella is wherever a good wife should be found . . . at her husband's side . . . most assuredly in England.”

“In England?”
The door of Maxim's understanding burst wide, igniting the fires of his rage. He recalled this vixen all too well. When he would have rushed to Arabella's side to soften the shock of her abduction with an explanation, the meeting with this wench and her recognition of him had necessitated a change in plans. Now she was here, where his former betrothed should have been, a fact which he was certain the girl was somehow responsible for, whether by design or misfortune. “Why are you here?”

With a flippant shrug Elise flung a hand toward the door. “Ask your men. They were the ones who took me.”

“They were instructed to bring Arabelba here,” he informed her brusquely. “What are you doing here instead?”

“You dim-witted buffoon!” Elise railed back “Can you not hear me? If you would have the answer to that question, seek out your henchmen! That simple pair of dolts were waiting for me in Arabella's chambers. The next thing I knew I was being carried off!”

“I'll throttle them with my bare hands!” Maxim ground out. Spinning on a heel, he stormed from the room, flinging the door wide. His voice thundered ahead of him as he leapt down the stairs three at atime. “Fitch! Spence! Dammit, where are you?”

The two had left the hall and were about the same distance from the front portal when his shout halted them. Scrambling back, they hit the opening at the same time, somehow managing to wedge themselves into the narrow space. A cacophony of
loud curses and clamor arose from the entrapped pair before they managed to extricate themselves. Gasping for breath, they hastened back to the Marquess who had paused in the middle of the hall. With fists braced firmly on his waist, he fixed them with a dark, ominous scowl that fairly sundered their feeble attempts to smile. His voice began as a low thundering rumble. “Do you know what
you've done
?”

The pair stumbled back as the last words were blared at them, and they looked at each other in wary confusion. The soft whisper of footsteps compelled them to lift their worried gazes to the girl who slowly descended the stone stairs. The smile that curved her lips was one of sublime pleasure, as if she anticipated what was forthcoming. What venom had they stirred in the maid's heart that she should countenance their comeuppance?

The two glanced between his lordship and the girl and were quick to note the absence of the blissful smiles of lovers reunited. The Marquess was genuinely enraged, there was no doubt. Those green orbs fairly burned with rage, while the muscles twitched tensely in his lean cheeks. By long association they knew that small movement boded ill for all concerned.

Glancing over his shoulder at the girl, Maxim made a request in a tightly controlled tone. “Would you be so kind, madam, as to tell us who you are.”

Elise continued her leisurely descent with all the aloof dignity of a great queen. “I am Elise Madselin Radborne.” Her voice, though soft, was given resonance by the echoing chamber. “Sole descendant of
Sir Ramsey Radborne, only niece of Edward Stamford, and first cousin to his daughter, Arabella.”

The servants' jaws went slack, and they gawked at Elise as if loath to believe what she had just announced. They turned in lame appeal to the Marquess, realizing at last the reason for his wrath. He was staring at the girl, as if he too were surprised by what she had revealed, but that well-kindled emotion of anger had by no means diminished when he faced his men again. He inquired in a growling whisper, “Now do you understand what you've done?”

“Please, m'lord,” Fitch entreated. “We didn't know!”

“You should have made sure!” Maxim's sharp tone sliced through the room. “Did I not tell you what she booked like . . .”

“Aye, an' we were sure ‘twas this one.”

“Brown hair, I said!”

Fitch lifted his hand as if to draw his lordship's consideration to the long, tumbling tresses that fell over the girl's shoulders. “An' is this not brown, m'lord?”

“Are you blind, man?” Maxim roared. “Do you not see ‘tis red?”

Squeamishly Fitch tested his lord's patience again. “Red-brown?”

“Gray eyes! Not blue!”

Making no further attempts to reason with the enraged man, Fitch sidled behind his companion-in-folly, allowing him to give answer.

“ ‘Twas easy ta make a mistake, m'lord,” Spence offered. “The chambers where ye told us ta go were
dark, and though we waited, this one was the only lady what come. ‘Ere was no one else, m'lord.”

“You were told to take Arabella!” Maxim bellowed, this time startling the girl as well as the pair. He flung his hand to indicate Elise who stood frozen upon the last step. Of a sudden, she understood why the two servants had been so apprehensive about provoking his lordship. By his mere presence he could dominate a room and, now in a towering rage, he claimed their undivided attention. “Instead you have saddled me with this half-crazed chit!” he continued harshly. “And she is useless to me! Edward Stamford loves his riches too well to be concerned about her disap—”

Impertinent as always, Elise dared to interrupt his ranting. “You can send me back”

Maxim stared at her as if astonished by her suggestion, then his face clouded again with darkly brooding anger. “Believe me, madam, if it were at all possible I surely would, but I fear your return is entirely out of the question at this present time.”

“If you're afraid I'll reveal where you are or that you were the one responsible for my abduction, I promise to keep my silence. My word is good.”

“I've been accused of murder and treason against the crown, Mistress Radborne.” His tone had taken on an edge of sarcasm. “I rather doubt that you could besmirch my character more than it is already. Consider further, madam, that Elizabeth has no authority here, so you see I'm quite safe from the axeman's blade.”

“You have no need of me here,” she cajoled. “You've said as much yourself I'm useless to you. Please let me go.”

“Nevertheless, madam, you will remain.”

Elise stamped a small foot in frustration. “You must let me go! I have to return and find my father! He may be lying somewhere wounded . . . or worse! And I am the only one who has a care to seek him out. He has need of me. Can you not understand?”

“I'm quite aware that Sir Ramsey Radborne was taken,” Maxim commented. “If you be his daughter in truth, then I must also tell you there was a tale that he was placed aboard a ship which later sailed from England. If that is true, ‘twould be useless for you to return there in search of him.”

Elise stared back at him aghast. “Where would they have taken him? And for what reason?”

“Anywhere in the world,” Maxim replied laconically.

“I'll not stay here!” Elise blurted out, close to tears. How could she hope to find her father when she now had to search the entire world for him?

“For the moment you have no choice but to accept my hospitality,” Maxim said, turning aside with a small nod. “My apologies.”

She flew across the room and tugged at his arm until he condescended to face her again. He gazed down at her with sardonic amusement, and beneath that scornful smile there grew within Elise a strong desire to rake her fingernails across those handsome features.

“Your misguided cohorts snatched me from my uncle's house,” she snarled. “They locked me in a chest and brought me to these decaying ruins. Now you mewl and beg my pardon. Well, m'lord Murderer, I say your lame apology is not enough recompense for what I've suffered!”

His brow arched upward in curious question. “And what amends would you have me make, madam?”

“I cannot rest until my father is found. Don't you understand? At least in England I'd have a better chance of finding someone who knows where he was taken. You must take me back posthaste.”

Casually he shrugged his wide shoulders. “Impossible.”

Elise gnashed her teeth at his blunt answer and raised on tiptoes to deliver her threats full in his face. Her eyes flashed with fiery sparks as he responded with a mocking smile. “Sir, I would warn you to take care! You'll not have a moment's peace in this dungheap while I'm here! I'll make your life so miserable you'll regret the day you issued orders to have Arabella seized. Though my cousin may have been willing to give you love and companionship, I'll give you naught but hatred and contempt. Your waking will be to the cries of the banshee, and when darkness comes, you'll long for the rest you'll never find.”

Maxim responded with a dubious chuckle. “Come now, maid,” he chided. “You're far too fragile to give your threats substance.” He watched the face so close to his own turn livid with rage and laid a gentle, consoling hand upon her shoulder. “Still your anger, and think on what you say. I've bested men twice your size on the field of battle. ‘Tis foolishness for me to consider defending myself from so tender a foe.”

“Nevertheless, my lord,” Elise whispered in spitting tones of venom as she flung aside his hand. “I'll torment you until I'm set free!”

Realizing she was completely serious with her threats, Maxim could only marvel at the girl's tenacity. Never had he met a wench so full of fight and spirit. “Be reasonable,” he cajoled with a chuckle. “If you pester me overmuch, I'll have you locked away again, and neither of us . . .”

“Over my dead body!” Elise snatched back an arm and let it fly toward his grinning visage. It was caught before it met its mark and held in an effortless vise.

“Now see how foolish your threats are,” he admonished almost gently. Against her repeated attempts to snatch away he turned her hand over and briefly considered the fine-boned wrist. “Why, if I were a true judge, I would say you're . . . ah . . . rather puny . . . as maids go.”

Hardly one to stand still for this disparagement, Elise once again drew back a hand, but as she tried to deliver a blow to his head, he ducked, at the same time swooping an arm about her hips and lifted her up high against him. With a strangled gasp of outrage, she clutched his shoulders for support, horrified that he could be so familiar with her person. The limp woolen gown did little to preserve her modesty, and against her buttock she was crushingly aware of the bold placement of his hand. Its warmth singed her through the single layer of cloth and set her cheeks to flaming.

“What say you, maid?” Maxim leaned his head back to book up at her, settling his gaze momentarily upon her rapidly heaving bosom before he smiled into those snapping sapphire orbs. “Who be the fox and who be the hare? Surely I could gobble
you for a morsel. A delicious one, too, I would think.”

Elise issued no feminine protests, but deliberately softened her manner. If she could not best the rogue by mightier brawn, then by wit and womanly wiles she would do the service. Leaning close with a coy smile, she feigned a warming that could have stripped away any man's defenses, but for Maxim, it had a devastating effect. He was a man who had bound himself in the honor of betrothal vows, and after that, there had been long weeks of recuperation from his injuries. The slender, meagerly clad body sliding against his as he loosened his restraint and the soft breasts brushing his face nearby snatched his breath as the womanliness of her flicked awake his longstarved senses. Her mellowing took him completely off guard and allowed her to catch the tip of his ear firmly between her teeth. Like a spiteful shrew, Elise gave the lobe a solid yank.

Maxim's sudden yelp coincided with her release, and she jumped away, swift as a frightened hare, and darted across the room to place herself behind the table, there to glare back at the Marquess as he held his bloodied ear. Her attack had had the same effect on him as a bucket of icy water. It did nothing to cool his temper.

“Catch me if you can, fox,” she taunted, tossing her head and laughing at him. She feigned a look of sympathy. “Poor cub, did I hurt you, overmuch?”

Incensed by the mischievousness of this little minx and intent upon teaching her a lesson about men that she would not soon forget, Maxim
approached her as he would some untamed prey that threatened any second to bolt and run. Elise eyed him warily, waiting until it seemed that all he had to do was reach out and take hold of her, then she whirled away, avoiding his grasp with an agility that surprised him. As she danced away, she snatched a long-handled warming pan from a peg above the hearth and, with all of her strength, brought it around. He ducked to avoid the vicious swing, but he did not count on her letting it go. In its flying descent, the thing caught him smartly alongside the head.