Chapter 16
Chastity didn’t think she could make it onto the horse, but he accepted her story of stiffness and bruises, and helped her up. As bruises, abraded skin, and tender scabs shrieked, she told herself it would get better as she loosened up. She didn’t believe it.
They rode slowly into a village called Wickford and halted at the Brown Cow.
It was a simple, low-thatched inn, and not a posting house, but the innkeeper professed himself able to serve them breakfast in the tap-room.
This proved to be empty so early in the day, but already warm with a blazing fire.
Chastity eased with relief onto a settle there and held out her hands to the warmth.
Cyn stood at the other side of the fireplace and studied her thoughtfully. “You really are at the end of your tether, aren’t you?”
“I’ll be all right when I’ve eaten,” she lied. What else could she say? He wouldn’t leave her behind. He said nothing, but she knew he didn’t believe her, and with reason. She forced herself to sit straighter. “We can’t give up now.”
“No, I don’t suppose we can.” He was unwontedly sober for Cyn Malloren, frowning as if over an unpleasant prospect.
A maid came in and laid a table for them. In a moment she returned with a loaf of hot bread, butter, and a pot of coffee. Chastity’s stomach growled.
Cyn laughed. “Come on, then. Get started on this as we wait for the rest.”
He seated her and cut a thick slice from the loaf, layering it well with butter. As she sank her teeth into it, he poured her coffee. “Cream? Sugar?”
She nodded, her mouth full of buttery bread. As soon as she’d swallowed, she drank some coffee. It flowed into her like liquid comfort and spirit, and was much more to her taste than brandy. She could feel herself come back to life. She grinned at him.
He grinned back.
How primitive one could become. At this moment, a gift of food spoke more eloquently of love than jewels or flowers.
At the thought of love, she sobered. She took another thoughtful bite from the bread in her hand.
She feared she knew what unpleasant duty he was contemplating—that of marrying this young lady he had unwittingly compromised by spending three nights in her company.
And that was without knowing she was also Chloe.
She was touched that his honour would drive him to offer marriage even to the Notorious Chastity Ware, but she would not allow the sacrifice.
“That’s my girl.”
She flicked a glance at him. He sat studying her, chin on hands. His eyes were shielded, yet she sensed something deep behind the lashes.
She looked down again, more confused than she could ever remember. She wished, quite desperately, that they were safely back in the days of Cyn and Charles.
Again, it was as if he picked up on her thoughts. “I like the fact that we can acknowledge the truth at last,” he said softly.
She kept her eyes on the bread. “How long have you known?”
There was a pause, then he said, “From the beginning.”
Her eyes jerked up to his. “What?”
His expression was rueful, and not a little wary. “You were very good at it, but I noticed the . . . er . . . lack of attributes.”
Chastity felt her cheeks heat, but at that moment the maid and the innkeeper bustled in with platters of eggs, sausages, ham, and beef. They were offered ale or cider, but refused. By the time the servants had left, Chastity did not know what to say.
She helped herself to food, then just looked at it, despite her hunger. “Why did you say nothing?” she asked. She wanted to ask, Do you know about Chloe? but that would be to give away, perhaps, more than she need.
He cut into a slice of ham, then put his knife and fork down, no more able to eat than she.
“I could sense that you needed the disguise, love, long before I knew of your problems. I didn’t know what would happen if I forced you to acknowledge the truth, but I suspected it wouldn’t be good. At least from my point of view.”
She looked up sharply. “What do you mean by that?”
A slight smile twitched his lips, but his eyes were very watchful. “I wanted—I needed—to know you better. What would you have done if I’d challenged you the first day?”
Chastity thought back. “I don’t know. Probably left you behind, tied to the bed.”
He let the smile free. “I knew my instinct for self-preservation was sound. And you’d have been caught before the day’s end.”
“Yes.” Hunger became insistent and Chastity began to eat, but her mind reviewed their association.
Dear heaven, had it only been five days?
She admitted he’d had a problem. But then she remembered his teasing—the garters, the Shrewsbury biscuit, his taunts at poor naive Charles. Those dratted laces. She stared at him.
He winced, but his lips were twitching.
“You devil,” she said with soft intensity. “You . . . you . . .” The twitch became a grin. He was laughing at her, damn him!
Chastity picked up the dish of soft butter and hurled it at him. It landed squishily on his gold-braided uniform, then slid down. While he sat stunned, she followed it with the loaf of bread, and the contents of the jug of milk.
He leaped to his feet, dripping. “Plague take you, woman!” When she looked for more ammunition, he pushed her away from the table.
“You low creeping swine!” she yelled at him.
“Snake.”
Chastity gaped. “What?”
“Swine don’t creep. Snakes do.” He was back to laughing at her.
“I don’t believe this! You’ve lied to me, tormented me, led me into the most terrible situations.” She emphasized each point with a poke at his squishy waistcoat. “And now you’re going to correct my English!”
He let her poke him back against the table, but he wasn’t at all repentant. “You kidnapped me, stole my goods, bound me, threatened me. And when it comes to tormenting, my sweet, wanton harpy from hell, you could give lessons.”
Chastity felt the blood drain from her head, but the only words that came out were an inadequate “Oh, dear.”
He stepped forward and now it was her turn to retreat. “I choose to take that as an endearment.” He grabbed her by the shoulders. “We’re two of a kind, Chastity Ware. If I hadn’t known Chloe with my brain, I’d have know her with my body.”
She tried to jerk away, but he wrapped her in his arms. “I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you.” He gently tilted her chin up. “But deuce take it,” he said, the grin breaking out again, “it’s been worth every entangled moment.”
She tried to glare, but the merriment in his eyes brought a gurgle of laughter from her. “Are you never serious?”
“Not if I can help it.” He dropped a kiss on the end of her nose. Then, disconcertingly, he turned truly serious. “But I’m not an idiot, or a flibbertigibbet, Chastity. I’m a man, and a soldier. I’ve seen things I hope you never see.”
He hesitated, frowning. Chastity didn’t know what was wrong, but she wanted to soothe him. She held him a little tighter and hoped he read it aright. He hugged her back, so perhaps he did.
“I remember a battle,” he said soberly. “It was the most damnable weather. Icy sleet. It wasn’t too bad during action, but when night fell we were stuck in the open with no shelter.” He looked down at her, watching her. “We built a shelter of corpses, ours and theirs, and slept very snug . . .”
Chastity swallowed and tried not to show the horror she felt.
His eyes met hers. “That’s my life. Could you share it?”
“Sleep among corpses?” It came out rather squeakily.
He laughed shortly. “They’re actually more peaceful than rats or fleas . . . But no, I don’t suppose it would come to that. But I make no promises.” He put his knuckles under her chin, preventing her from looking down. “I’m asking you to marry me.”
“You can’t marry Chastity Ware.”
“We’ve had this conversation before. There’s no one to stop me from doing whatever I want.”
“What about Rothgar?”
“Not even him. I’m of age and my income, limited though it is, is beyond his control.”
“Are you warning me you’re poor?”
Humor twinkled in his eyes. “An impoverished Malloren. Heaven forfend! We’ll have enough for a life of genteel comfort, when war allows us to enjoy it. Marry me, love.”
“You don’t have to do this,” she protested. “I was a ruined woman before I met you. I look a freak—”
His lips silenced her, gently at first, then heatedly, hungrily. Her response was powerful, and frighteningly beyond her control.
His clever lips released her, and his breathing was as unsteady as hers.
“You are not a freak, Chastity Ware, unless that’s to mean you are unique.
Your hair, if that’s what bothers you, will grow.
I like it as it is, but if you want, you have the wig.
” His hand traced her face. “I am not offering you marriage out of duty. You are beautiful. You are more beautiful to me than any other woman, even unadorned. You are brave. You have quick wits and a lively tongue. You are the only woman I have ever met who can match me in spirit.” He grasped her hand and pressed it against him.
“You rouse my desire in a way that is both frightening and wonderful. Do you remember that first day?”
The feel of him hard under her fingers flooded Chastity with a multitude of memories, making her hot and aching, but she remembered him spread-eagled on the bed. She nodded.
“Even then,” he said, “my body knew.” Absentmindedly she stroked him. He shuddered. She snatched her hand away and pulled out of his arms.
“It’s just lust,” she said. “It will pass.”
“There’s no such thing as just lust. Lust is a dirty word for desire. I suppose in time all things will pass, but my desire of you will not soon fade.”
“Do you know how little time we’ve known each other?” she demanded, fighting both herself and him.
“All my life,” he declared.
“Five days,” she pointed out grimly.
He waggled his eyebrows. “I was new-born the day I met you.”
“Will you be serious?”
“No,” he said with a flippant gesture of his hands. “I tried serious. It’s clear I’ll have to tease you into marrying me.”