Chapter 15
Cyn was half-carrying her by the time they reached a crude stable, not the one belonging to the Saracen’s Head.
He carried her in and set her on some straw.
There were just a half-dozen horses there, all of them draught horses except theirs.
There was only one dim lantern and it hung outside the door.
Cyn carried it in and hung it on a hook.
“I moved the horses to this place in case the Saracen’s Head was under watch.” He turned to her and saw her clearly for the first time. All humor left his face and he knelt before her. “Dear Lord, what has happened to you?”
Chastity tried to stuff her bright-red nipples back into her bodice. Her hands were shaking and it was impossible anyway. She started to cry. She was enveloped in his coat—warm from his body—then in his arms. “Hush, love, hush. It’s all right now. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
She laughed at that, somewhat wildly. He muttered a curse, then put a flask to her lips and tipped it. Neat brandy burned down her throat and shocked back her wits, but she couldn’t stop crying. He kept holding and soothing her until the tears stopped.
After a while he moved her so he could see her face, and tenderly wiped the tears away. She expected questions and had a list of them herself, but he said, “We need to be away from here. Can you ride?”
Chastity wanted to rest, perhaps to die, but she gathered her resources. Her father and brother mustn’t catch him. “I suppose so . . .” She looked helplessly down at her clothes.
His eyes followed hers. “What . . . ? Never mind.” He picked up the portmanteau. “Put on my spare clothes. They’ll be too big, but anything’s better than what you have on.”
She went behind a partition and stripped off the hateful garments. She wished she could burn them, but she stuffed them in the bag so there would be no evidence that she and Cyn had been there.
She pulled on a pair of Cyn’s drawers, a shirt, his blue breeches, waistcoat, and coat.
The shirt had been worn and his smell lingered on it, strangely sweet to her senses.
The breeches were loose in the waist but were held up by a belt; the legs ended down on her calves, but her boots would cover that.
The coat was far too wide at the shoulders.
She knotted a soft cravat around her throat and realized she was still wearing the wig.
Reluctantly, she took it off and put it in the bag.
She’d thought she’d grown used to her cap of hair, but after having been herself for a little while, it once again seemed freakishly short.
She squared her shoulders and walked out.
He smiled. “Welcome back, Charles.” At his tenderness she closed her eyes in despair, realizing clearly for the first time that all her good intentions had come to naught.
He’d saddled their horses as she changed and now he led hers over.
He reached up and touched her hair. She flinched, but he wouldn’t let her move away.
He stroked the back of her head. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long .
. .” He let the horse’s reins fall. “The wig is pretty, but your short hair is beautiful too.”
“You can’t mean that.”
His touch was gentle and loving, the warmth of it trickling down her spine. “I do. You have a face that needs no ornament, no distraction. I’ve also wanted to do this for so long . . .”
His lips were soft at first, and gentle, but in no way hesitant.
Chastity knew she should fight, but this was their first honest kiss, and she could not reject it.
She kissed him back. He deepened it, opening his mouth warmly, using his hands, his whole body to sweep her beyond reason into a world ruled only by the senses.
She tasted him, honey-sweet, brandy-rich, then her mouth too was demanding, her hands seeking.
He pulled back with a shaky laugh. “Dear heaven, love, I wish this were the time and place . . .” He touched her cheek. “Don’t look so appalled. Everything will be all right. Trust me.”
“I’m Chastity Ware. It can never be all right.”
“I’m Cyn Malloren. Trust me.”
The feeling of exasperation was familiar. “Even a Malloren can’t change the world.”
He smiled that lazy smile that could make her toes curl. “Try me sometime. Come on.” He cupped his hands to help her mount.
Chastity abandoned the fruitless argument for the moment. He’d learn there were some things beyond repair, and if she didn’t let him make commitments, or let him learn she was Chloe, he’d soon tire of this game.
It was only as she raised her foot to put it in his hands that she realized riding was going to hurt.
She gritted her teeth and didn’t make a sound as she landed on the saddle, but tears sprang to her eyes.
Thank heavens her father hadn’t progressed to whipping her buttocks.
The pain from her stinging thighs was bad enough.
Cyn was mounting his own horse so she had a moment to overcome the worst of it. How far could she ride, though?
She had no choice. If she told Cyn of her injuries, they would both stay here and be trapped. Her father made a bad enemy at the best of times, and now she wasn’t even sure he was sane. If he could turn on his son and heir, what would he do to a stranger?
She took the reins in her left hand and hoped Cyn wouldn’t notice. They rode out into the dark lane side by side and Cyn headed away from the town.
“I scouted here earlier,” he said. “This lane leads out of Maidenhead to the village of Woodlands Green. I doubt it will be watched. It’s smooth and simple and lined with hedges. It should present no difficulty even in the dark if we take it slowly.”
Chastity gave a prayer of thanks for the slow pace. Each swaying motion of the horse gave her a twinge of pain, but she could bear it at a walk.
“Tell me what’s been happening,” she said.
“I could ask the same of you,” he said, but complied.
“I found Frazer without any trouble. He was completely on our side. Seemed to have a dim opinion of your father, which I suppose is natural as the earl had refused his suit. Anyway, he made an excuse to go home, but of course he’s on his way to Winchester.
If he can travel in the dark, he could reach there by midnight.
I wish there was more than a quarter moon. ”
“Then what will he do?”
“He’s to take Verity to a place called Long Knotwell, where his brother, Tom, is the parson. By great good fortune, Frazer has just spent a couple of months based there, recovering from a minor wound and taking furlough. It establishes his residency so they can be wed there without difficulty.”
“Where is Long Knotwell?”
“Not far from Fleet. Frazer made a rather bad joke about Fleet weddings, but of course such hasty ceremonies are illegal these days. As we don’t have time for banns, they’ll need a Public License.”
“Lord. How does one get one of those?”
“From a bishop. In this case, the Bishop of London, as Long Knotwell is in his diocese. It’s usually necessary for one of the parties to present themselves and swear oaths about the legality of the union, but we decided I would try for the license with Frazer’s sworn statement in hand, while he gets Verity to Long Knotwell.
At a pinch, the Reverend Frazer will marry them anyway.
Such marriages are usually upheld if there is no legal impediment.
Anyway,” he added dryly, “I’m hoping the fact that the bishop is my mother’s uncle may ease things. ”
“The power of the Mallorens again. But then shouldn’t you be in London now?”
He turned to her. “I had to see you safe.”
“Why?” she demanded in exasperation. “Time is of the essence. My father seems desperate to get his hands on Verity. I told you to forget about me if I was caught!”
“You never do what you’re told,” he said lightly. “Why should I?”
She hissed at him. “Don’t you dare make a joke of this!”
She saw him smile—the pale of his teeth in the dark.
“ ‘He that is of a merry heart hath a continual feast,” ’ he quoted.
“ ’Tis my nature, sweeting . . . But I’ll try to be serious if that’s what you want.
” His voice turned coolly authoritative as he added, “Why don’t we start by you telling me your story, beginning with why you left the safety of the inn? ”
There was a hoot and a whir as a hunting owl floated close overhead. Something rustled nervously in a nearby hedgerow, but otherwise the countryside was silent. Cyn too was silent, with a silence that demanded answers.
“I was spotted at the window,” Chastity said reluctantly.
“I didn’t want the searcher to trap me in that room, for it would link me to you.
So I left. I bribed the innkeeper not to tell anyone I’d been with you.
I told him I was running away to enlist, and he became full of patriotic fervor—three guineas’ worth, to be precise. ”
“So I gathered. As far as I can tell, he at least gave three guineas’ worth of silence. Then what?”
“I tried to wait in the stables for you, but some of Father’s men were already there. I only narrowly escaped them, but I had to go into the street. Fort caught me.”
“Your brother? He’s on your father’s side, is he?”
“Not any longer. It was because of him I escaped.”
It was uncomfortable to be having this conversation in the dark. She couldn’t see his expression and his voice gave nothing away, but she sensed an emanation of power from her right-hand side. This was the officer questioning her.
“Escaped from where?” he asked.
Chastity hastily edited her tale. “My father had hired a house and Fort took me there. They locked me in a room. I convinced Fort that I didn’t know where Verity was, that I’d come to Maidenhead in search of her.
When Father arrived, however, he wasn’t fooled.
He forced me to change out of my male clothing.
” Chastity sought evasion, but found none.
“He threatened to sell me to a brothel if I didn’t tell all. ”
Cyn turned sharply. “He what?”