The Bridal Contract (Darrington family Book 3) (14 page)

Her breath caught. Her heartbeat intensified as the heat of his hand encompassed her breast. Her world exploded when he brushed his fingers along the puckered nipple. “Oh, dear Lord,” she whispered. Flutters filled her belly. “Do that again.” Did it make her a wanton to enjoy such an exquisite feeling, to let him do such a thing at such a time?

“Gladly.” This time, not only did he repeat the gesture, he then rolled the sensitive bud. His breath steamed the shell of her ear and the side of her throat as he nibbled a path downward.

She squirmed and arched her neck to give him greater access, but the moment he plucked her nipple then soothed it with feather-weighted caresses, she moaned. Beneath her bottom, the hardness of his arousal made itself known. A smile curved her lips. How lovely to know he desired her as much as she did him.

“Eloisa?” Strain graveled his voice. “Dear God, woman, I need…” His voice faded as he plied her with another kiss.

“Mmm?” Her eyes closed. She clutched his shoulders. Waves of pleasure surged through her body only to center in her core. Fire erupted in her veins each time he licked a particularly sensitive spot behind her ear or rubbed a finger back and forth over that hardened peak. She was seconds away from becoming a boneless heap draped over his lap with no other care in the world than to beg him to touch her in other places. If he made her feel like this with only a hand down her bodice and his lips on her skin, merciful heavens what would happen if they found themselves in a bedroom and without clothes?

Oh, how she wanted to find out. If only they weren’t in a cramped carriage on a mission of the greatest importance. Some of her ardor slipped. How ghastly it was she’d forgotten about Daniela’s plight. What sort of person was she?

The carriage jerked sharply to the left, throwing her and Oliver against the side of the conveyance. It then rocked to a halt with enough force that they were jostled nearly off the seat, effectively putting an end to the sensual torment. A sigh of both disappointment and relief escaped her.

The sharp sound of a horse’s whinny filled the silence followed by the murmur of male voices.

Oliver glanced at her. No longer did his eyes have the dark hood of passion. They’d taken on an intense gleam of a different sort. Clearly, his mind had shifted from her to the task at hand. He handed her back onto the seat then manipulated the door handle. “Except for the bit of rough handling just now, wasn’t that interlude worlds better than trying to find fulfillment with a ghost’s memory?” he asked shortly before he exited the vehicle and slammed the door behind him.

She slumped on the seat and rested a hand to her heart that still frantically beat as if it wished to escape and fly about the interior. Had that session all been to teach her a lesson, to encourage her to think about the state of her future? She pressed her hands to her blazing cheeks. Oliver was a good man. His actions regarding her well-being and his tender care with Daniela proclaimed him a gentle sort who’d do anything for someone in need. But where did she fit into the lifestyle he wanted, for surely he wouldn’t remain in England for long? How could she be the woman to demand he remain on land if his heart of hearts was out on the ocean?

Why did life need to be so full of conflicting things?

She rolled down the window glass then dared to poke out her head.
Drat.
She couldn’t see a bloody thing from this side, though male grunts rang out as did the unmistakable sound of a fist connecting with flesh. Quietly and with slow movements, she opened her door. Oliver hadn’t requested that she remain inside like a cowardly female. Besides, she wanted to witness the confrontation or perhaps rescue Daniela if the occasion demanded. Her pounding heartbeat marked every step she took. She laid a soothing hand on the horse’s rump as it danced in place and snorted. While keeping the horse between her and the drama unfolding beyond, she bit her lip.

Oliver had apparently thrown a punch if the man on the ground at his feet was any indication. The driver of Lord Everly’s carriage perhaps? She looked at the box of Oliver’s conveyance. His driver sat motionless, his attention on the impending fight. “You could at least offer to lend a hand, you great lummox,” she muttered.

The driver peered down with an annoyed expression. “I did offer. Viscount Tralsburg refused. Said to keep an eye on you.”

“I’m quite capable of staying out of trouble. Thank you,” she bit off, equally irritated by the both of them. She snuck to the horse’s head. Catching the bridle in her fingers, she murmured quieting noises into its ear while keeping her focus on Oliver.

“Everly, I know you’re in there and I know you took my daughter,” Oliver said in loud, clear tones. “I demand you return her then tell me how you’d like to pay for your crime.”

She rolled her eyes. Of course a man like Lord Everly wouldn’t acquiesce to that sort of demand. “The man might be easy on the eyes and as honest as they come, but he’s daft if he thinks that fat lord will agree to any of it,” she told the horse. The animal merely flicked an ear. The driver; however, attempted to smother a guffaw with a cough.

The coach door opened. Seconds later, Lord Everly exited and the conveyance rocked when it was free of his weight. “Are you sure you want to lock horns with me?”

Eloisa wracked her brain to come up with Everly’s rank in the Peerage. She couldn’t remember since titles and histories of troublesome lords had never interested her, but wasn’t he an earl or something? Blast it, she couldn’t think with her mind in a whirl of emotions.

“Everly, even if you were God himself I’d still challenge you since you stole my daughter. That crime far outweighs any I may commit on this morning.” Oliver took a stance that kept his arms and legs limber.

“You’d destroy your reputation on behalf of a bastard child who doesn’t even belong to you?”

“How could you know that, Everly?” Olive asked in a quiet, deadly voice.

“One of your family’s London servants has loose lips. That sort of gossip catches like wildfire.” Everly’s laugh sounded like cannon fire. “You’re more of an idiot that even I pegged you for.”

“Daniela is my daughter no matter how she came to me.” Oliver’s jaw set, and even from her short distance away, Eloisa felt his anger. The viscount may not have the highest of connections, but he was a man of great feeling and could do anything he set his mind to.

“How unfortunate and a tad stupid,” Everly rejoined. The man shrugged his massive shoulders. “You may have the child back. She’s nothing but a sniveling, screeching mess anyway. I was forced to gag her, but you get her on one condition.”

“What’s that?” He clenched a hand into a fist.

“You revoke your promise to pay off Hawthorne’s debt to me. I want Helen for my wife and I mean to have her one way or the other.”

Oliver’s bark of laughter held no mirth. “Why the hell would I do that? That poor girl doesn’t deserve the likes of you and I highly doubt she’s looking forward to being bedded by a fat lout of your stature.”

Behind the horse, Eloisa stifled a peal of hysterical laughter. She buried her face in the animal’s mane.
Oh, Oliver, don’t deliberately make him angry.
Her respect for him shot upward. He had never met her sister, yet here he was, defending her right not to marry that pig.

“She could do worse. Her family is near destitute,” Everly argued. “What do you care? I highly doubt you’ll marry Eloisa as the gossips say. Your engagement is nothing but a ploy so she could gain the funds to cover her brother’s debt. What did you do, hold her to a contract of sorts?”

“That is a private matter.” Oliver squared his shoulders. The shock of hair that stood up at the front of his head gave him a roguish air. “If you must know, I do mean to marry her, not that it’s your business. I also refuse to release my promise. Since you obviously won’t be a gentleman about it, I suppose I’ll have to convince you with my fists.”

“You can try, whelp, but in this, I’ll have the upper hand as well.” Lord Everly came away from the carriage and Oliver circled him.

“I rather doubt that. I’ve had many bouts of actual hand-to-hand combat. I’ll have you down and begging in under a minute,” the viscount bragged.

Eloisa frowned. That sort of attitude would hinder him, yet she couldn’t help but hope he knew what he was talking about. And what the devil was he doing with his head? She peered at him harder. There it was again, that weird little half-jerk toward the carriage.

“Miss, I’m thinking he wants you to creep over while the fat lord is otherwise engaged,” the driver whispered.

She looked at him over her shoulder. “And do what?” She had nothing to offer in a bout of fisticuffs. “What’s he expect me to do, smack Everly with a slipper?”

“No. Grab the child and bring ‘er back here,” he further explained.

“Of course.” Lord, but she must have bacon for brains. She released the horse’s bridle then edged beyond the animal. Everly’s back was still toward her as she approached the coach with a mixture of sneaking steps and odd skipping hops. Anyone passing by on the road would think she’d lost all control over her limbs. As yet, no other travelers came their way. As soon as she gained the rear of the coach, the sounds of fists connecting with bodies reached her ears. She slipped around to the far side of Everly’s conveyance and gave up a little prayer that Oliver would be none the worse for wear after this folly.

She cringed when the viscount cried out and she had to firmly ignore the urge to rush around the coach. If he’d fallen, it was only a matter of time before Everly caught on to what she was about to do.
Well, I wished for adventure. Now here it is, handed to me. I hope I make Oliver proud.
Ignoring the violent echoes, Eloisa gripped the door handle and wrenched the panel open. “Daniela?” she whispered into the interior.
Dear Lord, I hope there’s not a groom in here.

A quick glance into the dim interior revealed there wasn’t. The only occupant of the equipage was Daniela, who’d been bound and gagged with a rag stuffed in her mouth. She’d been thrust onto the floor with a blanket half over her.

“Oh, poor baby.” She quickly flung off the blanket. The little girl’s wide, tear-filled eyes stared up at her. “It’s Eloisa, pet. I’ve got you. No one will ever hurt you again.” Not wishing to waste time with untying her, she scooped the child into her arms, hugged her tight, and pulled her from the coach. “No sound until we’re safe, all right?” When the girl nodded, Eloisa crept to the reach of the vehicle once more. Oliver and Lord Everly still grappled, and both their expressions reflected fierce concentration. “Here we go.”

Never had she run so fast or hard before. Never had she carried such precious cargo. The little body in her arms trembled and shook. The face buried in the curve of her shoulder was slick with sweat and tears. Finally, she ducked behind Oliver’s horse. She threw a glance up to his driver. Her heart felt as if it would burst from her chest. “Please help me.”

He jumped down when he spied the bundle in her arms. “You really rescued the wee one, miss.” He opened the carriage door.

“Yes, I really did.” There’d be time to marvel about it later. She put Daniela on the bench then quickly set about removing the gag and freeing her limbs from the ropes that bound them. “Did the nasty man hurt you?”

“No.” Her voice sounded parched. Two fat tears rolled down her cheeks. “He said not to cry and if I did, I couldn’t come home and that he’d hurt Papa.”

Eloisa’s hatred for Lord Everly grew. She dearly wished to step up to the two fighting males and be allowed to get in a few punches of her own. “It’s over now, pet. Papa’s out there taking the bad man to task. He’ll never let anyone do something like this to you again.” The girl looked so small and scared sitting there on the dark squabbed seat by herself, her white nightclothes contrasting with that interior and causing her to appear as a specter, that Eloisa bundled her into her arms and hugged her tight. “You’re safe now.”

“I love you, Mama Isa,” Daniela said against her chest. She wrapped her delicate arms around Eloisa’s neck and squeezed.

She lost her heart, solely and completely, in that moment. The love of a child was such a powerful thing. It flooded her with courage and the strength to do what she needed to do. “Mama loves you too, pet.” Now, she needed to do something about remaining in the little girl’s life as well as that of the child’s father, come what may.

Chapter Twelve

A masculine cry of victory rang out over the morning silence. Eloisa gently eased Daniela from her arms. She peered into the little face and forced back her own fear. “I have to rescue Papa. Stay inside this carriage and don’t move until I return. Understand?” When the child nodded, Eloisa waved goodbye then softly closed the door.

She turned to the driver. “Watch her.” Then she ran back to her previous post by the horse. As she swept her gaze around the area, her stomach bottomed out. Lord Everly stood over Oliver, who’d fallen to the hard-packed dirt, and what was more, the bigger man had a pistol trained on the viscount. “I turn my back on him for one bloody minute and this is the mess he lands in.” She bit her lip as indecision swamped her. What to do?

“Admit defeat, Tralsburg. You’re no match for me,” Lord Everly demanded in a wheezy sort of voice. His rotund face had reddened during the pugilisms and one lapel on his tail coat hung off the garment by a few strings.

Oliver groaned. He rolled onto his back, staring up at the other man. “Defeat is forever. I’m only temporarily down.”

“Except I plan to finish you off.” Everly cocked the pistol.

Eloisa feared that his fat fingers would inadvertently press the trigger before something could be done. She worried her bottom lip harder.

“So, that’s what you’ve stooped to then, Everly? Cold-blooded murder in broad daylight?” A smear of blood decorated one cheek, but Oliver scrambled to his feet, even if he was slightly unsteady. “How incredibly stupid. Are you willing to be hung just to secure the hand of some chit who doesn’t want you?”

“At this point, I just want to be rid of you.” He waved the pistol. “Who will say what will happen? Your driver? Every man has a price. I’ll merely need to find his. The elder Miss Hawthorne?” He looked directly at her hiding place. “Do you think I can’t see you there?” Everly retrained his attention on Oliver. “She’ll be easily cowed with enough threats.”

“Will I, then?” she whispered to the horse. “I think not.” Ignoring the posturing males, she darted back to the driver’s position. “Do you have your own pistol?”

“Of course, miss. We never know when footpads or highwaymen prowl these roads.”

“Excellent. If you’ll please do me a favor and shoot Lord Everly, I’d appreciate it ever so much.” It seemed a reasonable request.

“Are you mad?” The man’s shocked expression said what he wouldn’t. “Even if I don’t kill him, Everly is a Peer. Do you know what they’ll do to me if I even so much as talk back to one such as him?”

Obviously, heroism didn’t extend to this fellow. She frowned. “Yet your master is also a Peer. Will you not help him in his time of need?” Talking to this man was a ridiculous waste of time. How much longer would it be before Lord Everly grew tired of the cat-and-mouse games? She strained her ears. The low buzz of conversation still continued, but the words were too soft for her to grasp.

“If I shoot him by accident, I’ll be in the same amount of trouble,” the rather ordinary young man said.

“You haven’t an ounce of adventure in your soul,” she replied with enough vexation that she stamped a foot.

“No, I haven’t, miss.”

She held out her hand, wriggling her fingers. “Give me your pistol. I’ll end this bout of stupidity myself.”

His eyes widened. “I’m afraid I can’t let you do that, Miss Hawthorne.” He darted his gaze to the carriage box. No doubt that was where the weapon lay.

“Either you shoot at Lord Everly, or I’ll do it, but I refuse to stand around, hiding behind the horse until someone comes to their senses or loses them.” Her nerves were already frayed. If she wanted Oliver in her life, in her arms, in her bed, she’d have to rescue him and the rest be damned. Nothing else—no one else—mattered except him. “You won’t help me?” She took one last look at the driver, who shook his head, then she rolled her eyes. “Lord give me patience to suffer through the calamities of men.”

Then, she darted to the side of the carriage, stuck a foot in the spokes of the front wheel, lifted herself up, and grabbed the pistol that lay so carelessly on the floor of the driver’s box.

“Miss, I highly suggest you don’t do this,” the driver implored. He halted in midstride when she pointed the nose at him.

“Well, unless you can offer up another suggestion, I’m doing this.” She fought off a rush of hysterical laughter. How powerful one was when holding a weapon. Though she’d never held, let alone fired, such a thing before, she refused to wait around for Oliver to say something that would get him wounded or killed. She glared at her cowardly companion. “I suggest you put your sorry arse in that box, for no doubt we’ll need a rather quick getaway.”

Eloisa didn’t wait to see if he’d followed instructions. She ran around the horse then approached the two men, who’d returned to grappling with each other. For the first time she realized the folly of her impetuous action. How exactly could she aim while the two men were constantly moving? If she fired off a shot, she ran the risk of hitting Oliver. Her chest tightened and her nerves crawled with anxiety. There was nothing for it.

She wanted him. Lord Everly was in the way. Logic suggested she remove the obstacle any way she could.

“Enough!” Her voice rang in the clear morning air as she approached the men. She didn’t stop walking until a mere five feet of air separated them. “This needs to end.”

Both combatants paused and stared at her. During the slight lull, Oliver rushed at the fat lord, which sent him off balance. Eloisa raised the pistol. It suddenly felt heavier in her shaking hand than it had before. Could she truly wound someone? She shifted her gaze to Oliver and her heart skipped a beat. She would if it meant saving his life. As the seconds ticked by in contemplation, Lord Everly slammed Oliver against the side of his coach.

Yes, she could do this. She trained the pistol at the fat lord, attempting to hold it steady in both hands. Oh, how did men convince their hands to stop shaking long enough to fire?

Over the large man’s shoulder, Oliver eyes widened. Shock mixed with fear in his expression. Just as he opened his mouth to either warn her or challenge Everly, Eloisa squeezed her finger on the trigger. Unfortunately, she didn’t see if the ball had found a target, for the kick back from the weapon’s discharge not only jerked her arm and shoulder backward, it knocked her off balance. She tumbled to the ground and landed so hard on her bottom stars swam in her vision.

Some minutes later, a pair of dusty boots appeared in front of her. She lifted her gaze up the pair of buff-colored breeches, past an ivory waistcoat that sported two missing buttons, past a slate blue tail coat that had a streak of blood to a dust-streaked, disheveled cravat, and finally into the concerned, bewhiskered face of her viscount.

“Are you all right?” He grinned as he extended a hand.

“The only thing wounded is my pride, as they say.” She let the pistol fall from her hand. Tingles filled her arm down to her fingertips. “Firearms are quite a nasty business.” She put her hand into his and he pulled her to her feet as if she were a cloud. “More importantly, are you hurt?” She roved her gaze over his dear, somewhat battered face, his neck, his shoulders, but there wasn’t the red bloom of blood. The streak on his jacket must not be his. “Please tell me you’re not wounded.”

“Why, Miss Hawthorne, you sound as if you’re truly worried about me,” he quipped but tugged her close and whispered, “I’m unharmed. Lord Everly; however, didn’t fare as well with that wild shot you got off.” He tucked a fallen lock of hair behind her ear. “I really must teach you better aim in the future, my dear.”

She couldn’t think straight, couldn’t feel anything beyond the numbing pins and needles invading her arm. All she wanted to do was fling herself into his arms, let him wrap her in his protection, but he pulled away and released her before she had the opportunity. “What do you mean?” A sinking sensation weighted her stomach. “Good God, I haven’t killed him, have I?” If she had, did that mean she’d need to flee England forever to evade capture? Wouldn’t the constable concede it had been an accident or defense? She gasped and took two steps backward. Her stomach twisted and knotted. “Will you turn me in? You’re such an honorable man, I wouldn’t expect less of you, but going to prison or facing a hangman’s noose is—”

“Eloisa!” He closed the distance between them, dropped his hands on her shoulders, and gave her a slight shake. “Look at me.” When she met his blue gaze, he lifted an eyebrow. “Quell that imagination of yours. Everly isn’t dead. Far from it, though he is missing a portion of his left ear and his coach has quite a hole in its side. No doubt he’s making the air blue with the string of vulgarity he’s indulging in.”

Cool relief slammed down her spine. “Oh.” She let him grip her hand and tug her across the road to where Lord Everly huddled against his coach with a hand to his ear. Blood trickled out between his fingers and ran in a scarlet ribbon down the side of his face to blend with the dirt-streaked folds of his cravat.

“Everly, this ends today.” Oliver poked the man in his fat shoulder as his driver finally came out of his stupor enough to hand the agitated lord a handkerchief. “I’d say a bit of an ear is punishment enough for kidnapping a small child.”

The rotund lord glared, but the effect was somewhat lessened by the injury. “What do you want, Tralsburg?”

Eloisa was curious too as she gave into a wave of exhaustion and leaned against Oliver’s side. She offered a small smile when he wrapped an arm about her waist.

“For you to leave me, my family, and the Hawthornes alone,” he replied in a low voice that brimmed with warning. “You will accept my note to cover Charles’ debts and you will never play at the same tables as him, no matter how he might wheedle and attempt to convince you otherwise. You will stand and walk away immediately if he approaches you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, yes, but know this. If I ever see you in Town, you can be sure I won’t hesitate to make things exceedingly difficult for you.” He wiped at his ear. The handkerchief came away blood-stained. “Damned gel, interfering in things she knows nothing about.”

“It’s merely one of the reasons I adore her,” Oliver rejoined. “Expect notice I’ve tendered my note regarding the transfer this week, Everly. I don’t wish to linger over this problem longer than necessary. There are other, more rewarding, endeavors to hold my attention.”

The lord waved a fat hand. Then he yanked open the coach door and climbed in. The conveyance swayed beneath his weight. “I’ll be looking for you, Darrington. You and I aren’t done.”

“That day of reckoning may never come.” Oliver glanced at Everly’s surly driver. “Make certain he sees a surgeon. An infection there would be a rather nasty business.”

By the time Oliver had led her back to his carriage and his driver had retrieved the abandoned pistol, Eloisa felt more like herself. “You said you adored me,” she mentioned as they stood by the carriage door.

“I did and I do.” He swung open the door only to be accosted by Daniela the second she saw him. “Hello, poppet.” He picked the child up in his arms then kissed her forehead. “Papa promises to never let anything happen to you again. No more bad men at our door.” The knuckles of his right hand were swollen and bloodied, stark against Daniela’s white night clothes. No doubt the origin of the streak on his jacket.

“And Mama Isa?” The girl’s dark gaze slid to her and she smiled as if she’d been inspired by an angel.

“I’ll protect Mama Isa as well. Can’t have the evils of this world come after my two best girls, now can I?” The twinkle in his eye promised wicked nights and happier days. He gestured to the carriage. “Let’s go home, shall we?” The few shadows on his face would be bruises in the coming hours, but at least he wasn’t vitally hurt.