To Wed a Scandalous Spy (13 page)

It did not take long to leave Wakefield behind them. At last, Nathaniel allowed Blunt to slow to an easy canter. The gelding, who had never lost control, now galloped calmly down the road as if they were on a Sunday ride. The mare, who was perhaps not the brightest horse Nathaniel had ever known, still startled with wild eyes. Nathaniel held her reins tightly. He wouldn't want to make the rest of the journey with only one horse.

Willa was still pressed to his chest, her face hidden. He could feel her midriff shaking as if with sobs.

"I'm sorry you had to experience that," he murmured into her muddy hair. "It's over now. Please don't cry."

She hit her fist against his chest lightly. "I'm not crying," she said. She lifted her head. Her face was red and her eyes were bright, but it was true. She was not crying. She was furious. "Oh, that
insufferable
town!"

Nathaniel couldn't help it. He wrapped his arm tightly about her and laughed his relief into her filthy hair.

The road was wide and well traveled here, and there still might be some pursuit, so Nathaniel pressed Blunt through a gap in the hedgerow to look for a likely spot to hide out. They found a river not far away where they might clean up and a sheltered bit of wood, likely kept for the master's pheasant shooting. No one would be hunting this late in the day, and as soon as they had removed the mud they would get out straightaway.

For now, it was sheltered, quiet, and, above all, safe.

Nathaniel was washing the horses in the river. The bend downstream was shallow enough to encourage them to roll once they'd been unsaddled. Willa was scraping the worst of the grime off the tack with handfuls of grass. She tried the same method on her skirts, but there was little hope her gown could be saved. Then she put the bridles and saddles out in the watery sunlight, hoping the remaining smears would dry enough to brush off later.

She wiped her hands on her ruined skirts and turned to her own toilette. She wasn't as filthy as Nathaniel, for he'd taken the worst of it when he pulled her before him. She washed her face, hands, and arms in the river. Her hair did well enough with a dunking and a quick braiding. She would change her gown after she helped Nathaniel with the horses.

She dug Blunt's currycomb from Nathaniel's bag and started downstream. Watching her feet on the damp slope, Willa didn't look up until she reached the river's edge.

When she did, her heart stopped beating, the breath left her lungs, and her mouth went dry. She saw the horses grazing beyond the bank with the pearly sunlight gleaming from their drying coats—and she saw Nathaniel.

He was beautiful.

He knelt in the shallows only a few yards away. With his back to her and her arrival masked by the chuckling water, he was entirely oblivious to her gaze.

He was also entirely wet.

And entirely naked.

The water was only to midthigh and there weren't enough bubbles in the world to cover the broad expanse of naked man that rose from the river.

Willa couldn't breathe. Her knees went weak at the sight of the sudsy water streaming down his broad back into the crease of his powerful buttocks. She had never seen anything so unbearably delicious in her life.

His back rippled with muscle as he soaped his hair, the cloudy afternoon light doing nothing to dim the sleek shine of soap and water on his male perfection.

Nathaniel bent to duck his head in the water and Willa could not control the moan that escaped her at the view.

Instantly Nathaniel whirled, one fist pulled back in instinctive defense while his other hand frantically wiped soap from his eyes.

Damn, he should have known they were too vulnerable here. He hadn't been thinking with the mind of a spy but had let thoughts of Willa's sumptuous thighs distract him.

His vision cleared and he saw her. The impulse to fight eased, only to be replaced by another equally ancient instinct.

It was her eyes. They were wide and hungry, with a shining ache in them that he knew from his own soul. She wanted him. He could see it in the way her chest swelled with heavy breaths and by the sheen of perspiration gilding her face and neck.

His own need rose in response to her hungry gaze, and he saw her gaze drop and her eyes widen in surprise. Then slowly, her gaze traveled back up him. Nathaniel stood for her perusal.

He was the most magnificent creature she had ever seen. She knew that the thrumming within her was because of his male attraction, but the ache in her heart was from his sheer lonely perfection.

He could have her. The thought ran through Nathaniel's mind like the animal it was. He could take her now, on the bank with their legs tangling in the stream edge and her hair spread across the moss. She would accept him hard and fast, he could see it in her eyes, and he could make her enjoy it.

They would be wild creatures, naked and rutting, smeared with mud and bits of grass. He could empty himself in her, here in the daylight, in the dappled green shade that smelled of peat and lust.

He was going to take her; Willa could see it in his eyes. Her knees shook from mingled desire and despair. He would plant himself within her, give her his seed and his lust, if nothing else.

But he would be hers, such as he was, and God help her if at this moment it seemed like enough. She wanted Nathaniel to show her, to feed and foster and answer the ache growing within her by the moment.

With shaking hands, Willa began to unbutton the bodice of her dress without ever taking her gaze from his. He didn't look in her eyes but followed the course of the open front of her gown as it grew.

Nathaniel began to walk toward her, wading through the water with a slow, implacable stride, his thick erection jutting mightily before him.

Her hands began to shake too much to handle the fastenings and she dropped them uselessly to her sides. The time was now, and she wasn't ready.

This wasn't what she wanted. And yet it was. The female beast within her wanted it and wanted it now. Wanted something untamed and unloving and undeniable.

The female heart wept warning, but the heat and rush of her animal blood drowned it almost beyond hearing.

Her breath coming so hard it almost sobbed, Willa closed her eyes and waited for him to overwhelm her. He stopped before her, so large she could sense him blocking the light from behind her eyelids.

She quivered in response and felt a first startling burst of pleasure between her thighs. God help her, Nathaniel hadn't even touched her yet.

He stepped closer, so close that she felt cold water drip from him onto the tops of her breasts. The drops should have hissed on her hot flesh, but they only rolled to meet one another and trickle down between her breasts.

She was hot. Hot and throbbing and aching and unbearably frightened, all at the same time.

Willa stood before Nathaniel like a pagan sacrifice, her breasts bared and her eyes shut tight, helplessly offering herself to his worst bestial impulses.

And he had them. Oh, he wanted to do terrible wicked pleasurable things to this simple country girl, this wildflower plucked from the side of the road. He could teach her such dark and sinful deeds and make her beg for more.

Slowly, Nathaniel reached out and took the shoulders of her opened gown in each hand. He could bare her in one horrific rip, tear her clothes from her sweetly offered body, and splay her on the ground for his consumption.

His aching lust pounded through him, driving him to do just that, to own and possess this ripe, willing female, and to the devil with the consequences. His hands fisted in the fabric of her gown, tugging it tight and pulling her toward him.

She swayed forward unresisting and let her head fall back, baring her throat in an ancient instinctive gesture of submission.

Nathaniel could taste her already, taste how salty and sweet she would be, the salt of her skin and the sweetness of her virginal untouched nipples in his mouth…

Nathaniel pulled the neckline of Willa's gown together once more, then placed her hands upon it to hold it closed.

She opened her eyes and blinked at him, her gaze thoroughly confused. Nathaniel put his hands on her shoulders and gently turned her. Pointing her back upriver toward their belongings, he gave her a little push.

"I'll join you in a moment. I need to dress." And somehow he must cool his throbbing arousal.

As Willa stumbled out of sight, Nathaniel picked up the bucket and dumped gallon after gallon of freezing river water over his head.

«
^
»

Willa splashed her face with cold river water again and again, until the heat and blush receded and she could think again. She knelt on a large flat stone that jutted out into the water, the sort of stone that women of old would have beat their washing on. Willa only wanted to knock her own skull against the granite.

She had changed into her last clean gown, her best, for the arrival in London. Her hair was neatly rebraided, quite primly even. She was tidy, buttoned up, looking as ladylike as was possible in these conditions.

It didn't help. She wanted to do wicked, wonderful things. She wanted to strip off her clothing and be naked in the water with Nathaniel. She wanted leaves in her hair and moss beneath her buttocks and Nathaniel between her thighs. She wanted—

She plunged her hands into the chill water again, bringing up another handful of water to her face.

It would have been wrong to make love with Nathaniel on the riverbank, shocking and wrong, and she was never going to forget his magnificent form striding toward her through the shallows—

She bent to splash more cold water.

There was a motion out of the corner of her eye, and Willa sighed. Just when she was nearly calmed down.

"Nathaniel, I—"

It wasn't Nathaniel. On the bank of the river stood a man with a ruined face.

One side of that face was startlingly handsome, with chiseled features beneath several weeks' growth of beard. His eyes were flashing blue, ringed by long lashes that Willa would have envied at any other time. One side of his face was perfect.

The other side was all the more tragic for it. Scars ran over the right side like branch water, one slicing into the corner of his mouth, pulling his otherwise perfect lips up in what must have been a perpetual twist.

His dark reddish hair was unkempt and shaggy to go with the beard, and his clothes were rags. He took one step forward, his hooded eyes intent upon her.

Surprised, Willa took one step back…

And fell into the river.

Her skirts pulled her under immediately. She was a tolerable swimmer, but there was no fighting the way her layers of muslin weighed like lead when soaked.

She had a bad moment, but it wasn't terribly deep next to the flat stone. Willa managed to get the tips of her toes under her and stand despite the current that pulled at her heavy skirts. She flung one arm over the rock on which she had been standing and took a deep breath and wiped the water out of her eyes.

That's when the man on the bank jumped into the water. Quickly Willa put the boulder between them but realized almost immediately that the man was trying to swim after her ruined dress, which must have fallen in when she did.

He didn't do too badly at first, and Willa had hopes that he would actually be able to help her. Then he seemed to tire abruptly. Willa watched in horror as he slid beneath the swirling waters.

"Nathaniel!
Nathaniel
!" Oh, dear God, let him hear her. The man bobbed up once, then promptly sank again. "Nathaniel!"

Nathaniel crashed through the thicket with a giant stick raised above his head. When he saw her, he threw down his cudgel and made to rush into the water to her. Willa shook her head and pointed downriver.

"Help him! There, do you see him?"

Nathaniel dived in after the briefly visible man and swam strongly into the churning current. Willa couldn't see them well anymore and struggled her sodden self up onto her rock. Ignoring the water streaming from her skirts, she stood on tiptoe. Where were they?

There was no one in the water.

"
Nathaniel
!" Willa screamed so loudly she felt something snap in her throat.

"Oh no.
No
!" Willa cried, only it came out in a desperate whisper. Oh, dear God, what if she lost him? What if her beautiful, sweet Nathaniel was gone? Black guilt washed over her. If the jinx killed Nathaniel, she wouldn't want to live.

Breathless at the prospect, Willa turned and raced recklessly back over the root-ridged path that had brought her to the flat stone in the first place. She ran down the muddy bank, skidding madly, eyes locked on the roiling river where he had disappeared. The bend was up ahead. If he could only make it to the shallows of the bend—

"Please, please, please." Unaware that her voice was nothing but an abused whisper, Willa begged any and every god ever imagined to return her Nathaniel to her.

There.

Nathaniel's water-darkened golden head broke the surface. He had the man by his shoulders and was towing him to the shallows. They were just fine.

The two men struggled near the bank, Nathaniel pulling the other man along by his arm. The fellow was quite weak and seemed to have a bad leg as well.

Willa reached them when they were a few yards from the bank. She ran into the water to take the man's other side. The two of them helped him to the grassy crest of the bank and let him collapse there and rest.

Willa immediately threw herself at Nathaniel. She wanted to tell him how worried she was, how terribly sorry she was, but all that came out was a raspy whispering sound.

He wrapped his arms about her. Willa pressed her face into his cold, wet neck and shuddered with relief. He was safe.

"Shh. We're fine, wildflower, all of us. We're just fine." Nathaniel held her close, pressing his cheek into her dripping hair. Had it only been a few moments since he had heard her cry his name?

Raw fear had coursed through him, and he had flung himself toward the river, grabbing up a chunk of deadwood on the way. When he had seen her, clinging to a rock in the rushing water, his heart had stopped beating altogether.