Captured by a Gentleman (Regency Unlaced 6) (8 page)

Instead, he forced himself to concentrate on their present situation. “I could take one of the horses and ride to the nearest village or town for assistance—”

“Oh please, do not leave me here alone!” Darcy instantly felt ashamed of her pleading tone. But the truth was, the accident, the intention behind it, had shaken her badly. Having Ranulf caress and stroke her to completion had shaken her even more.

She had never…

No man had ever…

He was Ranulf. The man she had wanted for so very long.

How could she possibly resist him?

His rejection of her afterward was like a slap in the face.

Ranulf’s expression remained hard and unyielding. “Alternatively, we could both remain here. Graves will be passing this way with the town carriage, either later today or tomorrow. He will recognize the broken landau instantly and no doubt set up a search for the two of us.”

Her smile was tremulous. “I like that idea much better than the first.”

He nodded. “In which case I need to go outside and bring in more wood for the fire. Food and water are not a problem, as I strapped the picnic basket to one of the horses and brought it with us.”

“We shall be quite cozy.”

Ranulf did not want to be cozy with Darcy. As he did not want to want her.

The women he had taken to his bed these past eight months had been merely that, women he bedded but did not know in any other way. Women he did not wish to know in any other way.

He already knew of Darcy’s courage from the way she had fled Cecil Sugdon’s home.

From her inventiveness in having hidden herself away in one of his own carriages to make good her escape.

Nor could he help but admire Darcy’s fortitude. Many women in her position would have been too numb to do either of those things.

They would now be weeping and hysterical at the thought of spending a night in this small hut out in the woods, after the accident which had placed them in this position.

Darcy had cried a little, yes, but that had been more out of relief at their lucky escape from serious injury than from hysteria at their present situation.

Ranulf’s own emotions were far less ordered.

The main one being his body still throbbed and clamored for release.

A release Darcy did not seem averse to satisfying.

It made him question whether or not she was a virgin still. She said she had never been in love, but she was aged almost one and twenty. There might have been some man in her life she had liked well enough to give her virginity to.

Darcy had certainly responded easily enough to his kisses and caresses. She’d offered him the pleasuring of her breasts, her pussy, without hesitation or shyness.

Not that it was any of Ranulf’s business what Darcy had done in the past. Or what she chose to do in the future. They were forced into each other’s company for now, but Ranulf intended to rectify that as soon as he was able.

He did not intend enjoying Darcy Ambridge’s company a second longer than was absolutely necessary to ensure she was safe and settled, far away from Cecil Sugdon.

Chapter 6

“You do not have to sit on that uncomfortable chair when there is room for both of us to lie on this cot.”

Ranulf buried his chin more deeply into the topcoat he was wearing for warmth, as he continued to stare into the now-satisfying leaping flames of the fire, rather than turn and look at Darcy across the room lit by a single candle and the firelight, covered by the rough blanket he had found in a small cupboard beside the fireplace.

He was too aware she wore only her nightgown beneath the cover of the blanket, having unpacked her night rail from her bag earlier before undressing modestly beneath the cover of the blanket. Her gown now lay across the table where they had eaten their picnic earlier, to prevent it from creasing any more than it already was. She had also removed the pins from her hair before retiring to the cot for the night, allowing those red-gold tresses to fall silkily on her shoulders and down the length of her spine.

She had been asleep when Ranulf returned earlier from ensuring the horses’ comfort for the night. No doubt she was worn out by both the shock and injury from the accident and the lovemaking that had followed.

A lovemaking Ranulf was determined not to allow his thoughts—or his engorged cock—to dwell on.

Instead, he had gone about the business of ensuring their comfort for the rest of the night.

He had discovered there was a river nearby, enabling him to bring back a bucket of water for the horses. Tethered outside, with the lean-to for shelter, they seemed content enough to graze on the grasses growing near the hut.

Ranulf had been as quiet as possible when he brought in several armfuls of wood to keep the fire alight and the two of them warm overnight.

Once Darcy woke, they had consumed some of the food and drunk some of the wine provided by the inn for their picnic.

The latter they’d done without either of them speaking a word to the other.

Ranulf, because he wished to keep his thoughts to himself.

Darcy, he believed, because she was belatedly feeling embarrassment at their earlier intimacy.

Although her invitation now for him to join her on the cot would seem she had now recovered from that embarrassment too!

“One of us needs to remain alert,” he dismissed offhandedly.

Darcy sat up on the cot, looping her arms about her bent knees covered by the blanket as she looked at the pistol Ranulf held resting on one of his thighs. “Do you think they are outside? Watching us? Waiting for us to fall asleep and then—”

“Do not let your imagination run away with you.” Ranulf gave her a censorious glance. “There is only a possibility we were followed. My pistol is merely a precaution.”

A quiver of fear ran the length of her spine. “Your pistol will be of no use if he sets fire to the cottage. We could both burn in our beds.”

“Not when I am seated in a chair,” he bit out dryly.

“You are mocking me again.”

He stood up restlessly. “I am endeavoring to allay your approaching hysteria.”

She sat up straighter. “I am never hysterical.”

“In the same way you do not prattle? Or sigh loudly when you are thinking?”

Darcy frowned. “I proved I do not prattle. And I only sigh loudly when you make it obvious you have no interest in listening to my thoughts or ideas on a subject.”

She looked so indignant, it was all Ranulf could do to stop himself from smiling. No woman dressed only in her nightgown, her hair a glorious red-gold shimmer down her spine, should be able to look quite so prim and rebuking.

He sobered. “I already know your thoughts on this subject. Talking about them will not change them.”

“What shall we converse about, then?”

He sighed his impatience. “Why do we have to converse at all?”

She shrugged bare shoulders. “We are both awake, so why not talk to pass the time?”

Because Ranulf chose not to fully reveal himself to anyone anymore. Not since Millicent. He had trusted her as his wife, allowed her to share his hopes and dreams, to
know
him, and in return, he had received only deception and betrayal.

“I am not Millicent.”

Ranulf’s gaze sharpened as he looked at Darcy. He could clearly see from those red-gold curls tumbling down her back and her forthright brown eyes that she was not Millicent. But she was a woman. One he had already made love to. And women, so different from men, very often thought intimacy gave them the right to ask personal questions. Worse, they expected the man to answer those questions.

“You would not be here if you were,” he assured her harshly.

“Were you so unhappy with her? Did you not find any happiness together at all? Before?”

Until a few minutes before Millicent’s death, when Ranulf learned the truth, he had believed himself to be content enough in his choice of wife.

If anything, having lived in ignorance of his wife’s true nature for the previous four months, the happiness he had thought was his had made the truth even more painful to bear.

He sighed as he saw the determined glitter in Darcy’s dark eyes. “I was content enough. What of you?” He was just as determined to change the subject. “You are almost one and twenty years old. Why are you not betrothed or married?”

Her gaze avoided meeting his. “My parents were happy together, and they would never have pressured me into accepting a betrothal with a man I did not love.”

“I did not ask about love, Darcy,” Ranulf drawled. “The emotion, I have discovered, rarely has anything to do with Society marriages. Even indulgent parents such as yours must have known an advantageous marriage was better than none.”

She gave a shake of her head. “There was no one.”

Ranulf’s eyes narrowed as he realized she was still avoiding looking at him directly. “Why do I not believe you?”

Possibly because Darcy was skirting around the truth. She
had
previously told Ranulf she had never been in love, but she now knew that statement had not been exactly truthful.

Earlier, as Ranulf made love to her, she had realized she had fallen in love once, was still in love, with the man who had been her cousin’s bridegroom and husband.

Ranulf.

A man who was so deeply wounded emotionally, so disenchanted with anything to do with love and marriage, his every word made it clear he never intended to allow himself to fall in love and be that vulnerable ever again. Oh, Darcy had no doubt, no matter how Ranulf felt now, that he would marry again one day. But any woman who took him as her husband could only ever expect half a marriage. One perhaps based on mutual respect, but never love.

“There was no one,” she repeated dully. “Are your parents still alive?” She deliberately changed the subject.

The frown left his brow to be replaced with a look of affection. “Unfortunately not.”

“Siblings?”

“None.”

Darcy sighed. “Your abrupt replies are not helping the conversation progress.”

“Possibly because I do not wish to… I only have my cousin and his wife,” he relented as she frowned her disappointment with his terseness.

She nodded. “The man who was witness at your wedding.”

“Lord Sinclair Montgomery, the Earl of Winterbourne.”

Darcy’s eyes widened. “My goodness, I have just realized the man Society dubbed the Ill-Mannered Highlander—before meeting him, that is—is your cousin!” And the reason she had not made the connection before now was because at the wedding, she’d only had eyes for Ranulf.

He smiled at the description. “I am sure that Sin soon set them to rights.”

“Oh, he did.” She chuckled. “The gentlemen were all most envious of his height and muscular build. The ladies all swooned every time he graced a room with his presence. Which, as I recall, was not very often. He appeared to have as much contempt for Society as they had previously held for him.”

“That sounds like Sin.”

“He married Mrs. Felicity Randall last autumn, I believe?”

Ranulf nodded. “They are expecting their first child next month.” He eyed her quizzically. “And did you also swoon whenever my cousin entered a room?”

Darcy wrinkled her nose. “I actually caught a chill at your wedding and missed most of the social events of the last few weeks of the Season, when your cousin arrived in London. Which is probably why I failed to make the connection before now. My friends were all agog, though, with the handsome new Earl of Winterbourne.”

Ranulf grimaced. “It would seem that we would both have been better off not attending that particular wedding.”

Darcy eyed him quizzically. “Did you just make a joke on the subject?”

“I believe I did, yes.”

“That is a definite improvement on your previous bitterness—” She broke off with a gasp as she realized her frankness had caused Ranulf’s humor to evaporate as if it had never been. “I apologize. That was…far too personal.”

“But truthful?”

She could lie, or— “Yes. I have no reason to disbelieve you when you say your marriage was a horrible experience, but you really should not allow it to color your future.”

“Perhaps you should worry about your own future rather than offering unwanted and unasked-for advice about mine.”

Another of those verbal slaps in the face Ranulf enjoyed delivering whenever Darcy stepped over the invisible line he had drawn beneath personal subjects that were not for discussion. “Do you have to be so— What was that?” She turned sharply toward the door.

“What was what?” Ranulf prompted irritably.

“I thought I heard— There!” Darcy jumped up from the cot. “The horses heard it too.” Her eyes went wide as the animals could now be heard whinnying and moving restlessly outside. “Someone is out there, Ranulf.” She ran across the room on bare feet before launching herself into his arms.

Ranulf managed to open his arms in time to catch her. Even so, she succeeded in sending the breath hissing from his lungs.

His cock, with its usual lack of consideration for circumstances, instantly surged up inside his pantaloons.

If it had ever gone down…

Just because Darcy had undressed beneath the cover of the blanket did not mean Ranulf could not easily imagine her in a state of dishabille. The night rail riding up her legs to her thighs. Her legs silky soft, breasts firm and uptilting, and tipped with those deep-rose-colored nipples. Her waist slender. Red-gold curls damp between her thighs. A dampness he longed to taste.

Those imaginings had been the reason for Ranulf’s earlier bad temper.

And his distraction now, when there was obviously something or someone moving about outside the woodcutter’s hut.

He did not look at her as he put her firmly away from him, taking off his heavy topcoat before picking up his loaded pistol. “You will remain here while I go outside and investigate.”

“What shall I do if he tries to come inside while you are gone?”

Ranulf’s expression softened when he saw Darcy’s arms were wrapped about herself protectively. Not that it provided her half-nude body with any protection whatsoever. The opposite, in that her arms pulled the material of her night rail more tightly over her breasts, her hard nipples poking out revealingly against the material.