Chapter 11 #3
“Because I chose not to know.” His voice had settled to a more normal tone, and he shifted to slide his hand between her thighs.
She seized his wrist. “No.”
“No? I don’t think you found much pleasure in that recent bout.”
“I think I’ve had my hundred guineas, worth.”
“Don’t forget. I’m paying you.” When she continued to resist, he gave up and pushed into a sitting position. “Perhaps you intend to supplement it with blackmail now.”
She moved to sit beside him. “Even if what you say is true, I have no proof.”
“Thus I am saved from folly.” Though physically they sat side by side, she felt as if he were moving away. “Are you proud of yourself, Lisette?”
Elf pulled the robe around her, shivering, and not entirely with cold. “No. After this, you’ll never want to see me again, will you?”
“I never thought we were contemplating a durable relationship.”
“You asked me to be your mistress.”
“Ah. Yes, you’re right. I regret that I must withdraw the offer.”
She swallowed. “Don’t hate me.”
“I won’t. I don’t. I will just endeavor to forget you.”
Elf pressed her lips together to stop tears. “What if we ever meet again?”
“Lisette,” he said sharply, “you understand what has happened. Leave it be. This has been a strange night, and if we survive, doubtless neither of us will forget it entirely. But I’m sure we will both try.”
She realized she had taken the robe, leaving him naked. She struggled out of it and held it out until it touched his body. “Take it. You must be cold.”
Then he was gone, and his voice came from farther away. “Keep it. Try to get some sleep.”
Swallowing tears he must not hear, Elf curled up in the robe, in the smell of him and sex, and tried to start forgetting.
It had been a long night with little sleep, and Elf must have dozed, for she awoke to loud noises. Struggling to untangle the robe enough to sit, she heard muttered voices along with bangs.
“Forced something in the keyhole, they have,” someone grunted.
A touch made her start. Fort said, “Hush.”
“Who is it?”
“I don’t know. But not our captors. With luck, they’re my people looking for me.” He sounded relaxed and normal, but in an artificial way.
Or my people, looking for me, she thought. Then she remembered he was naked. She slid off the box and put the robe in his hands.
“I suppose I should wear something,” he said, taking it. “I wish we had the means to share it, though. Your shift will be scanty covering.”
Elf realized a trace of light gleamed around the trapdoor. It wasn’t day yet, but must be past dawn. “Shouldn’t we say something?” she suggested. “After all, if it’s our captors, they know we’re here. If it’s not, they might give up.”
“True. I’ll go and communicate.” She heard scrabbling noises, then his voice. “Hello out there.”
The banging stopped. “Sir?”
Elf was easing up the coffin lid. They were about to be rescued and she had to try to keep her identity secret. Probably disaster was inevitable, but if she could put her mask on again, it was just possible that Fort need never know the true identity of his nighttime confidante.
That, at least, would spare him constant reminders of his confessions.
“This is the Earl of Walgrave. A handsome sum to the man who rescues me.”
The lid was heavy, but she managed to support it one-handed as she groped around.
“Beggin’ your pardon, my lord, but is there a lady there with you?”
She found the mask!
“Indeed there is. Are you in search of her?”
Elf eased the lid back down, absorbing the surprise in Fort’s voice. Oh, he was certainly in for some surprises. Especially as the mask strings had been cut. Damn and blast those Scots.
“Aye, well, in a manner of speaking.” Elf recognized Roberts’s voice. “Is she all right?”
“Yes!” Elf called. “For pity’s sake, release us!”
Her main concern, however, was the mask. Plague on it. They’d cut the left string of the mask within an inch of the edge. With trembling hands, she tried to knot the broken string on to the fragment, but it was hopeless.
Hopeless.
Could she hold it against her face? No, that would look foolish indeed.
Bangs from the trapdoor threatened release at any moment, bringing light and terrible exposure!
Tossing the useless item aside, Elf tugged at her powdered curls, pulling them forward over her face.
“What’s the problem out there?” Fort shouted.
“We’ve a man with us can pick locks, milord, but someone’s jammed a lump of wood in the keyhole. And as the door opens out, it’ll be a hard matter to bash it down.”
“There’s another door down inside. What sort of place is this?”
“It’s a ruined tavern down near the docks, milord. There’s been a fire not long ago, it seems. Took out the nearby buildings and charred this one enough to close it. We’ll try to find the other door.”
Elf heard Fort scrabbling back down the ramp.
“Where are you?” he asked.
“By the box.”
In a moment she felt him at her side. He touched her gently on the hand. “I’ve been a wretch tonight, Lisette. Accept my apologies.”
Elf took his hand, swallowing tears at the thought of what might have been—had they been other people or had she not broken down his walls. “I demanded answers to questions you didn’t want asked.”
He pulled her into an almost brotherly embrace. “Perhaps I was just ready to disgrace myself.”
“I see no disgrace. And I just wanted to heal you. Forgive me.”
“Of course I forgive you.” He rocked her slightly, reminding her of their first embrace of the night, that delicious tender swaying in his arms which had led to other things that could never happen again.
No more, no more sounded like a dirge in her head.
“You’re a kind woman, Lisette.” Faint voices grew louder beyond the door. Any moment now and this would all be over. “Will you give me your real name?”
Elf wanted nothing more, but whispered, “I dare not.” She clung to the remote chance of escaping unidentified. Perhaps then Elf Malloren might find a way to be with Fort Ware.
He cradled her head, tracing her features. “I wonder what it is you fear . . . ?”
But then, with a grating click, the door opened and torchlight flooded in.
When Elf hid her face against his chest, she simply wanted to spare her eyes. She realized immediately that she’d found an excellent position.
“The key was in the lock, my lord. My . . . my goodness.”
Roberts had just managed not to say “my lady.” How much did he know? And what on earth did she look like?
“Find something to cover the lady with,” Fort said crisply. “Come along. One of your coats, and sharpish.”
Elf found herself bundled in a frieze coat which was only slightly musty with sweat.
Slipping her arms into the overlong sleeves she kept her head down and wished for a collar to pull up around her face.
Then Fort lifted her into his arms and carried her through the door and she could again hide her face against his shoulder.
“I can walk,” she said.
“The ground’s rough here.”
“You have bare feet, too.”
“This seems to be my one chance to be the perfect, gentle knight. Don’t snatch it away.”
Reprieve.
Another few moments of untarnished closeness.
Elf relaxed against him as he climbed rickety stairs and threaded his way through the ruins of the old taproom.
The place smelled of stale beer and charred wood, but then fresh air played on her stockinged legs, carrying a hint of the river.
Turning her head cautiously, Elf saw gray dawn light through blackened, broken windows. How precious sight was after darkness.
Then he carried her through the doorway into a derelict wasteland edged by scorched buildings.
“Do you have a vehicle?” Fort asked.
“Aye, milord.”
“Who the devil are you?”
At his tone, Elf sneaked a look and winced. They’d brought her own one-horse chair that she used to tool herself around town, generally with a footman up behind. A glossy blue with white-and-gold trim, it was no commonplace vehicle. Nor was Bianca, her white carriage pony, a commonplace horse.
She tensed, ready for the truth to come out.
“Name’s Roberts, milord,” said her servant phlegmatically. “Hired to find the lady.”
Oh, bless you, bless you.
Fort didn’t pursue his question, except to ask, “And how the devil did you find her?”
“Beggin’ your pardon, milord, but can we chat somewhere else? If others were to return, we’re not that many to oppose them.”
Elf took time to count. Just Roberts and two other men, one holding the horse. She could understand why they’d not brought the two women, but there’d been two other men in her squad.
After a tense moment, Fort said, “Very well. But I will require a pair of shoes from one of you. The donor can hide around here until someone brings him a new pair. You, bring the chair here!”
The man led the open vehicle over and Fort lifted Elf into the seat. Then he turned to select from among the shoes being offered.
As she took the reins, Elf began to think she might get away with her deception after all.
At the moment, the men stood between her and the only obvious road out of here, and she knew little of this part of London.
But as soon as they entered a part of town she knew, she’d whip up Bianca and elude Fort once again.
Poor Lisette would have to disappear, but at least she might be able to continue to meet with him and tease him as Elf Malloren.
He chose the shoes of the man who’d been holding the horse and sent him to a nearby corner to make the exchange. He sent Roberts along to bring the shoes back.
And that was a kindness, she realized.
True, he had demanded the shoes as if by right, but he had not made the man limp into hiding barefoot over broken stone and glass.
Sighing, she admitted to herself that in her eyes Fort was close to perfect. Not that she thought him perfect, just that she had fallen under a spell that made him appear so.
A spell called love.
Hopeless love.
Amanda had been right. It was Romeo and Juliet, but it seemed they were at least going to escape with their lives.
Roberts came back with the shoes, and Fort put them on. “Now,” he said, “by all means let us guide the lady home, wherever that might be. And while we go, you can tell me what happened, and how you found us.”
He turned toward the chair as he spoke, and Roberts turned with the flaming torch. Before she could avoid it, Fort reached up to brush her tangled hair back off her face.
He was smiling quite tenderly.
She tried to turn, but he captured her chin, smile fading.
He blinked as if he couldn’t believe his eyes, then turned her face full into the light. “Elf Malloren?”