Chapter 19

 

Alexandra found Nathaniel crouching in the straw of an empty stall, shivering. In the dim light of the lantern that swung slowly overhead, she could see a dark, sticky substance on the back of his shirt. Blood? Her pulse began to race as she bent to touch it. Sure enough. It was fresh, and it was warm.

His eyes fluttered open. “Alexandra—”

“What happened to you?” She started to lift his sopping shirt, but he moved his arm to stop her.

“I think my father feared the hulks were too pleasant a home for me.”

“Greystone did this? That’s where he went tonight?”

“Not him.” Nathaniel swallowed. “Someone he hired.”

Alexandra could see the sweat popping out on his forehead and tried to suppress the panic that made her hands shake. “Why did you come here? They’ll kill you if—”

“This was the last place they’d expect me.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “And the only place where I’d find you.”

“But Lord Clifton didn’t go with his father.” Alexandra looked anxiously behind her, through the open stable door toward the house. She glanced at Rory, who was watching them in awe. “Never mind. Don’t try to talk anymore. We must get you out of here.”

“What ‘appened to ‘im?” Rory whispered.

“This man is a friend of mine, Rory, and you were right. He’s hurt very badly. I need your help. We must get him away from here before your father returns with the duke.”

Nathaniel’s head fell forward, and Alexandra bent worriedly over him. “Nathaniel!”

“I’m here,” he mumbled, his voice thick and slurred.

Alexandra turned to the stable boy. “Rory, can you get me a mount? We need to get him on a horse and take him to a doctor.”

Rory gave him a skeptical look. “Don’t look like ‘e can stand.”

Alexandra steeled her nerves so she wouldn’t snap at the boy. “We don’t have any other choice. Will you get the horse?”

While Rory went to do her bidding, Alexandra clung to Nathaniel’s hand. “Hold on, Nathaniel. Please.”

To her surprise, a wry grin twisted his lips as the blue of his eyes lifted to her face. “I thought you hated me.”

“If you die, I will hate you. I’ll hate you forever,” she told him.

His eyes closed again and the smile disappeared as he leaned his head on the wooden planking.

“Hold on,” she whispered, smoothing his dark hair off his forehead.

Rory had a bridle on a horse in a matter of minutes but didn’t bother with a saddle. He led the chestnut gelding out of its stall, stopping a few feet away.

“Thank you. I owe you all the scones you can eat,” Alexandra said. “Now we must get Mr. Kent up and onto the horse.”

The boy’s brows rose as he looked at the huge man huddled at their feet. “‘Ow do ye suppose we do that?”

Alexandra stooped and pulled Nathaniel’s good arm around her shoulder. “Like this: Nathaniel!” She made her voice low and sharp, trying to cut through the cloud of his delirium.

Nathaniel lifted his head, but it fell back again almost immediately.

“Nathaniel!”

A groan was his only response.

“On the count of three, we’re going to help you up. You need to stand, do you hear? You’re too heavy for us to carry.”

“After what I’ve eaten, I should be as light as a woman,” he mumbled, and Alexandra had to smile. He was still there. He was still fighting.

“One, two, three—”

“Going somewhere?”

Alexandra nearly collapsed under Nathaniel’s weight as Lord Clifton strode into the light. She felt Nathaniel’s muscles tense and realized that he, too, recognized his half brother.

“My lord, please.” She set Nathaniel gently back down. “He’ll die if I don’t get him some help.”

The marquess laughed, pulling a gun from his belt. “And that’s supposed to move me? Throw that pistol away.” He motioned toward the gun tucked into Nathaniel’s breeches. “Over there,” he said, waving at the far wall.

“A dying man would garner sympathy from anyone who had a heart,” Alexandra replied as she took the pistol and tossed it a few feet. “Look at him. Haven’t you done enough already?”

Clifton kicked the weapon farther from the two of them. “What about me? What about this?” He waved his handless arm in her face. “I can scarcely ride or shoot. I’m no more accomplished than a three-year-old with a sword. And you’ve seen my writing. It’s hardly legible. But you don’t care about that, do you? You only care about him.”

“Jake—”

“It’s ‘my lord’ to you, remember?” He pointed the gun at her.

“No,” Rory cried, rushing forward.

Nathaniel tried to stand, but fell weakly back. “Leave her out of it. This is between us, remember?”

The marquess ignored him. Turning to Rory, he indicated the stable door. “Go. Get out of here. This man is a thief.”

Rory hesitated. “Shall I wake Mrs. Wright and have her send for a constable, then?”

“No. Go back to bed. I’ll handle this myself.”

The boy shuffled toward the door, hanging back.

“It’s all right, Rory. You go up to bed. Everything will be fine,” Alexandra said encouragingly, afraid of what Lord Clifton might do if the boy disobeyed.

Rory threw Alexandra one last furtive glance as he shut the door, his face revealing confusion. Alexandra hoped he would go for help, but deep inside she knew that Rory would never defy the marquess’s authority to that extent.

When the boy was gone, Clifton turned to Nathaniel. “Now, where are the rifles?”

Nathaniel staggered to his feet but swayed dangerously as though he might fall. He shook his head, his eyes on Clifton’s pistol. “I’ll never tell you.”

“Then I’ll find them on my own. Bristol is not so large a place.” Setting the barrel of the gun on his forearm, the marquess awkwardly attempted to aim it. By his own admittance, he couldn’t shoot well, but at such close range, Alexandra didn’t see how he could miss Nathaniel.

“My lord.” She stepped cautiously toward him.

“Stay back. I’m going to kill the bastard, like we should have in the first place.”

“No, my lord, listen. I’ll give you anything you want if you’ll spare him. Anything. Do you understand? He’ll likely die anyway, from his injuries.”

Lord Clifton glanced at Alexandra, a lascivious smile curling his lips. “So this is what it takes to melt the ice maiden. Did you hear that, big brother? Your little doxy has just offered me a sample of her charms.”

Nathaniel tried to move toward him, but he succeeded only in pitching forward. “Stay away from her,” he groaned as he hit the dirt floor.

Clifton laughed. “I think not.” He waved the pistol at Alexandra. “Perhaps a little torture is in order for your lover. Take off your clothes.”

Alexandra swallowed and glanced at Nathaniel, sensing his awareness despite his semiconscious condition. She unbuttoned her white cotton nightdress until the curve of her breasts gleamed beneath the lamp.

“Now, that’s a beautiful sight,” the marquess breathed. He reached for her, bent her backward, and licked her face. “Damn, she tastes good. Nathaniel, you don’t know what you’re missing.” He grinned devilishly at his half brother. “Or perhaps you do.” His mouth moved down her neck, spreading sloppy, wet kisses along its path.

Alexandra bit her lip so she wouldn’t scream. Rory’s sleeping loft was just above them. Surely her cries would frighten the boy. She didn’t want Nathaniel to know how badly Clifton hurt her, either.

“Oh, this is nice,” he said, burying his head in her cleavage.

Alexandra’s mind raced as she tried to decide what to do. She’d only managed to buy them a little time, nothing more; she had no illusions that the marquess would spare Nathaniel because of her.

She glanced over Clifton’s head to see Nathaniel inching his way toward the rack of Harry’s whips, directly behind him.

Moaning as though she enjoyed Clifton’s caress, she pulled the marquess down to the ground with her, running her fingers though his hair and clinging to him so he couldn’t look up.

“Jake,” she breathed. “Jake.”

Clifton’s ardor increased at her response, but by then, Nathaniel had the whip. Alexandra watched as the pirate captain strained to reach his pistol with it, then slowly began pushing the gun toward her.

She moaned again and arched her back, reaching through the hay. The marquess covered her mouth with his, and stuck his tongue so deeply into her throat she nearly gagged.

One last circle with the handle of the whip brought the weapon within Alexandra’s reach. She could feel Clifton’s gun pressing into the flesh of her backside. He couldn’t angle it to shoot anyone now if he wanted to—but then, neither was she far enough away to fire Nathaniel’s pistol at him.

Instead she turned the smooth, ivory handle of Nathaniel’s gun and grasped the steel muzzle. Raising it behind Clifton, she used all of her strength to bring it crashing down upon his head.

Nathaniel’s half brother jerked. For a moment, Alexandra feared the blow hadn’t done its job. But then his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed on top of her.

“Are you all right?” Nathaniel’s voice sounded raspy to her ears.

“I’m fine.” She shuddered as she struggled to escape from beneath the marquess’s heavy body.

“Give me the gun.” Nathaniel motioned weakly to her. He’d used the wall of the stable to help himself rise, and leaned heavily against it now. But his voice was steadier than it had been since Alexandra found him.

Eager to be rid of the weapon in her hand, Alexandra did as she was told, but her breath caught in her throat when Nathaniel raised the gun and leveled it at Lord Clifton’s prostrate form.

She stared at Nathaniel’s face. It was intense, focused. Horrified, she clasped her hands over her ears, expecting the blast to make them ring.

But the gun never exploded. Alexandra opened her eyes to see Nathaniel tucking it into his pants as he shuffled toward her.

“Let’s get out of here before I change my mind,” he said.

* * *

Nathaniel knew he wasn’t in the hospital ship. The air was too clean, and there were no groans from the other men. Perhaps he was at sea on the Vengeance then, his stay in the hulks only a terrible nightmare. But the ground was stable beneath him; it didn’t rock as a ship would. And the pain was most definitely real.

He opened his eyes. Sunlight filtered through a crack in the draperies of a long dormitory like room, but his mind was too fuzzy and slow-moving to place his semi-familiar surroundings.

Someone’s head lay next to him on the bed—a woman, from what he could tell. No one else was in the room.

“Alexandra?”

Alexandra’s head snapped up. She was wearing a simple calico dress that looked a bit large around the neck. Her hair was disheveled and her face marked from lying on her arms, but her voice was filled with relief. “Nathaniel!”

He had never thought her more beautiful. The fantasies that had entertained him in the hulks rose unbidden to his mind, causing a physical reaction in his body, despite the throbbing of his head. “I can’t believe I found you. That you’re here, with me. Part of me thinks it must be a dream. Have I lost my mind after all?”

She smiled, took his hand, and kissed his palm. “No, but I thought I’d die when I saw the prison guard hit you with that club. It felt as though he was striking me.” Her voice broke. Swallowing, she glanced away.

Nathaniel turned her face back toward him, so he could see her eyes again. “My brave Alexandra. Why did you go to the duke’s? Don’t you know what he is capable of doing?”

“What else could I do? We had to find you.” She nuzzled against his hand, and he longed to pull her to him. If only he were stronger.

“Thank God you did.” His gaze fell to her lips.

She must have known what he wanted because she leaned toward him until their mouths met. Her lips were as soft as he remembered, and tasted better than he’d dreamed. “Where are we?” he asked, surveying the room again when she pulled away.

“We’re at Dr. Watts’s—”

“Oh hell!” He sobered instantly. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

“What?” Alexandra jumped to her feet. “We can’t leave. You need to rest—”

Nathaniel’s head swam when he tried to sit up, but he dared not lie back. “My father knows of this place.”

“How?”

“Rat—” He leaned over, hoping the dizziness would soon pass.

“But you’re in no condition to go anywhere.”

“My father will come here.” He managed to find his feet while Alexandra hurried around the bed to support him. “This time he’ll take you, too. We’ll not get a second chance to escape.”

Alexandra looked up into his face and saw something there that convinced her. “You sit here, then,” she said. “I’ll check the back and make sure it’s clear. At least your wound has been cleaned and bandaged, and we’ve got some decent clothes.”

Decent clothes! Nathaniel looked down at the pants he wore. They had obviously belonged to someone several inches shorter than he, and the shirt must have been a castoff from someone much wider. Only the shoulders fit. At least he was rid of his prison garb, though.

“Where’s the gun?” he asked before she could leave.

Alexandra shook her head. “I don’t know. Dr. Watts took it somewhere before he left.”

“Where did he go?”

She shrugged. “Probably out on a call.”

“How did you explain all this?”

“I didn’t. When he saw your back, he thought it might be better if he didn’t know.”

Nathaniel considered this. “And the horse?”

“I let it go. I didn’t want to be caught with it.”

He nodded. “Go, then, but be careful... and hurry,” he admonished as she darted away.

Supporting himself by leaning on the furniture in the room—the bed, the washstand, the wardrobe—Nathaniel moved into the doctor’s office next to the dormitory. He could hear someone upstairs banging around in the kitchen as the enticing smell of bacon wafted through the house. So it was morning yet, he thought, grateful that not too much time had passed.

Digging through the drawers of the doctor’s desk, Nathaniel searched for the gun. Where would Watts have put it?

When his search yielded nothing, he moved to the examination room.

The front door opened, and Nathaniel heard the doctor speaking to someone he brought in with him. “I didn’t know what to make of it, but I thought it should be brought to the attention of the constabulary.”

“The Duke of Greystone came to Whitehall just this morning with a description of the same man,” a voice replied. “He said Mr. Kent hit his son on the head and stole a horse from his stables.”

Nathaniel’s heart began to pound as he peered out of the room. A constable followed Dr. Watts back toward the dormitory. Dressed in duck trousers, a blue swallowtail coat, and a top hat, the man carried a pistol, which meant he was more than a mere constable. Only inspectors carried guns.

“You will investigate the entire story before pressing charges against this man, am I right?” Watts asked. “He certainly doesn’t seem like a criminal. And it appears that he’s been quite abused—”

“If this is the man I think he is, he deserves more than a mere flogging. He deserves a noose around his neck.”

The doctor stopped and turned back. “Certainly there are two sides to every story.”

“Dr. Watts, a man escaped from the hulks last night, a very dangerous man. And the duke has witnesses to say that this same person tried to kill his son, and stole one of his horses. If Mr. Kent is the one, we’re going to string him up from the gallows. Now, where is he?”

The doctor frowned and moved ahead, but more slowly. “They’re both back here. He and the girl he said was his sister.”

Nathaniel prayed Alexandra would not return at that moment. He needed her to stay in the alley until he could manage to get out of the house himself.

“They’re gone,” Dr. Watts said, his voice a mixture of relief and surprise.

A creak on the stair and Tutty’s voice interrupted. “Doctor? Is that you? Oh... I didn’t realize we had a visitor.”

“Tutty, this is Inspector Striker. Do you know where Mr. Kent and his sister went?”

“No. They’re not here?” As the housekeeper spoke, Nathaniel’s strength nearly gave out on him. He had to shift his position so he could lean up against the wall, and his movement drew Tutty’s gaze through the doorway. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened to speak, but Nathaniel pressed a finger to his lips in a wordless appeal.

She looked back at Dr. Watts and the inspector. “Have they done something wrong?”

“Well, I’m not sure, not sure at all,” Dr. Watts admitted. “I was a little unsettled by the terrible marks on Mr. Kent’s back... thought they should be reported, you know. And Inspector Striker here seems to think that he’s a dangerous criminal who tried to murder the Marquess of Clifton.”

Tutty blinked in surprise. “Oh, I’m sure you’ve got the wrong fellow, sir. Mr. Kent would never do a thing like that.”

“He hardly seems the sort,” Dr. Watts agreed.

Inspector Striker’s voice held disdain. “And you are a professional in criminal matters, Doctor?” Without waiting for an answer, he continued, “Mind if I have a look around?”

“Perhaps they went out the back,” Tutty suggested, moving forward to herd the two men into the dormitory.

Nathaniel would have been grateful for her attempt to cover for him, except that Alexandra had gone out the back, and he was afraid they would find her. He coughed to gain their attention.

“What was that?” the inspector asked.

“What?” Tutty’s voice held a nervous edge.

Dr. Watts cleared his throat. “The fog always seems to give me a tickle—”

“No, the sound came from out there.”

Nathaniel heard them come toward the examination room. Reaching for the only weapon he could find, his hand closed on the handle of a surgical knife. He had no idea where the doctor had put his pistol, but now he knew why it had disappeared.

Before the inspector could take more than two steps into the room, Nathaniel grabbed him from behind and laid the knife against his throat. “Looking for me?” he asked.

The inspector didn’t move. “Please... I’m only doing my job.”

“Forgive me if letting you do your job isn’t in my best interest. Please set your pistol on the table.”

Tutty and Dr. Watts followed the inspector in, the doctor wearing a heavy frown. “I’m sorry, Mr. Kent,” he said. “I’m still not sure I was wrong for doing what I did, but I consider myself a pretty good judge of character. I can’t believe half the things this man claims you’ve done.”

“I appreciate you giving me the benefit of the doubt,” Nathaniel responded. “I don’t have the time to explain now, but I am innocent, I assure you, at least of these charges.”

“Nathaniel.” Alexandra’s voice came from the back, softly calling his name.

“We’re in the examination room,” Nathaniel called back.

She entered behind the doctor and his housekeeper, then gasped at the sight of Nathaniel holding a knife to the constable’s throat.

“Hand me that gun. And get some rope,” he told her. “We need to tie them up.”

Alexandra hesitated only a moment. Nathaniel looked as though he might swoon, and something deeper than reason or thought compelled her to move. She gave the gun to him as he asked, and waited for the doctor to pull some thick cord out of a cabinet by the window.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured to Dr. Watts and his housekeeper as she took the cord.

“Don’t worry, dear,” Tutty said as Alexandra reluctantly began to tie her up. “My niece is expected for dinner. No doubt she’ll be along shortly.”

To free them. Alexandra understood her meaning. She glanced at Nathaniel to see if he had caught it as well, but his mouth was drawn into a thin line that revealed his pain, and she began to fear he would lose consciousness again. They had to hurry.

“Looks as though you’ve had experience with such things before,” he told her, after she’d finished tying the inspector. He attempted a weak smile as he checked to make sure the knots she’d tied were secure.

Alexandra shot him a look of mock exasperation. “Since I’ve met you, I’ve gained a great deal of experience, indeed.”

“Not the kind I’d like to give you.” He spared her a lascivious grin, then saluted Dr. Watts and his housekeeper.

Alexandra smiled ruefully, her way of saying good-bye, and followed Nathaniel out the back way.

* * *

Alexandra helped Nathaniel down the alley, but progress was slow. Sweat stood out on his forehead and ran down his back as he limped along. She feared the jostling and the exertion would start him bleeding again.

“This isn’t going to work,” she said after they had traversed several blocks. “You can’t walk much farther, and we’re not moving fast enough. We have to get to an inn or someplace where I can take proper care of you.”

Nathaniel grinned as he stared at the top of Alexandra’s bodice, which kept gaping open in front. “I like traveling this way. I’ve never had a better view.”

Alexandra clamped a hand over the fabric of her dress. “You’re every bit the scoundrel I thought you were.”

“If you invite a starving man to supper, you can hardly blame him for salivating at the food.”

“You’ve been issued no invitations.” Alexandra bit her lip against a smile. “But I’ll take your interest along those lines as a good sign. I thought you were close to your last breath.” She glanced around at the rotting refuse that spilled from the gutters on both sides, and wrinkled her nose as they passed an outdoor privy. “I’ve certainly visited better places. Are you sure we’re traveling in the right direction?”

Nathaniel grimaced as a rut in the road caused him to stumble. “We’ll blend in far better here in the East End. My father is not so familiar with these climes, I assure you.”

“You mean you’ll blend in,” she said, stepping over the feet of a drunk sprawled across their path.

“Are you saying I look no better than yon gentleman?” He quirked an eyebrow at her.

“Let’s just say that your clothes fit you about as well as mine do me.” She laughed. “Your trousers are equally revealing, but I can’t say as I’m thrilled about seeing your ankles.”

Nathaniel grinned. “Well, I’ll be happy to show you my more exciting parts—”

Alexandra gently elbowed him in the ribs.

“Ow!”

She smiled up at him. “Sorry, did I hurt you?”

He scowled at her, but Alexandra noticed that he didn’t bother averting his gaze from her bosom.

“You’re incorrigible,” she told him.

“So they say.”

“Who says? The ladies?”

His grin widened, tempting Alexandra to kick him in the shins.

“Really, you’d think a man on the verge of death would care about more important things—”

“Are there more important things? After a month in the hulks, I’m beginning to wonder.”

Alexandra heard the serious note that had crept into Nathaniel’s voice, but when she glanced up at him, he looked away. After a moment of silence, he said, “Let’s get a room at the first inn we find. I think we’ve gone far enough.”

“Do you not expect me to draw a connection between that statement and several others you’ve just made?” she asked.

She could feel Nathaniel’s ribs shake as he chuckled. “If only I had the strength.”

“And how do you propose we pay for this room?”

“Trenton will pay for it. You’ll simply have to talk the innkeeper into giving us a room until our friend joins us.”

“And why would an innkeeper trust me, especially one in these parts?”

“With a face like yours?” Nathaniel winked. “I have faith in you, my love.”

The inn they selected was a small, ramshackle building that sat back off the main streets. The lobby was sparsely furnished with threadbare rugs and dingy draperies. The innkeeper sat behind a tall counter, chewing a soggy cigar butt between rotting teeth. He glanced up from his newspaper as Alexandra entered.

“Good afternoon,” she said, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room. She had left Nathaniel outside, hoping a lone woman would elicit a more positive response from the innkeeper. But she doubted anything could influence the hard-looking man she saw before her. With a bulk easily approaching three hundred and fifty pounds, he wore a grease-stained shirt that showed rings of perspiration under his armpits.

He grunted, setting his paper aside and somehow managing to stand despite his incredible weight. “Would ye like a room?”

“Yes... however, I have one small problem.” Alexandra swallowed hard and gave him her sweetest smile. “You see, I don’t have any money—”

“Then ye don’t ‘ave a room.” He heaved his hulking mass back onto his stool and took up his paper.

“I’m supposed to meet a man here. He’ll pay you when he comes. He’ll be here before nightfall.”

The innkeeper kept reading.

“Sir?”

He removed the cigar from his mouth and let it smolder in a crystal ashtray, the only delicate-looking object in the room. “There’ll be a premium then, providin’ yer man shows up.” He looked up. “I don’t run no almshouse ‘ere. An’ if ye don’t pay, I’ll boot ye out onto the street long before mornin’, understand?” His gaze searched her face.

“Perfectly,” she said. “I’m sure he’ll come.”

“That’s what they all say.” He stuffed the cigar back into his mouth and clamped down on it while he gave Alexandra a gaping leer. With her ill-fitting dress and bedraggled appearance, she knew she probably looked like a girl of dubious character, and his next words confirmed his opinion of her.

“If yer man don’t show, I might be able to replace ‘im with another uh... client, if ye like. Providin’ ye work, I’ll cover yer room an’ board for as long as ye want to stay.”

“No, thank you. I’m not what you may think, but I’ll take that room you promised.”

The innkeeper paused, obviously doubtful, then handed her a key from the wall of pigeonholes behind him. “‘Tis just down the hall to yer left. An’ don’t forget—ye might not like the method of payment I require if yer man don’t come through,” he said, and his raspy laugh followed her out.

* * *

“That wasn’t half as easy as you made it sound,” Alexandra complained as soon as she reached Nathaniel.

Sitting against the outside of the building, he squinted up at her when her shadow fell across him. “I just hope you got a room,” he said, his voice weaker than before.

Alexandra felt a prickle of fear crawl up her spine. Had his wound begun to bleed again? “I got the room. Let me help you up. Do you think you can make it past the innkeeper while I distract him? Otherwise he’ll demand payment right away.”

Nathaniel nodded.

When they reached the door, Alexandra entered first. She approached the counter and smiled when the innkeeper finally looked up from his newspaper. “I just wanted to be sure you would tell my friend, when he comes, which room I’m in.”

His eyebrows drew together, but he nodded, the smelly cigar moving in his mouth as he spoke. “I’ll tell ‘im—right after ‘e gives me my money.”

Alexandra moved to the right, drawing the innkeeper’s eye with her so he wouldn’t see Nathaniel. “That’s very kind of you.” She lowered her voice. “You know, there are not many men in your position who would have treated me so generously.”

He grunted, the kindness of her words obviously throwing him off-balance. “Don’t think ye’ll change my mind,” he rallied. “Yer fellow pays or ye don’t stay.”

“Of course. Oh, and I was wondering, do you happen to have a porter or someone with whom I could send a message?”

“Not without money, I don’t.”

“Fine.” Alexandra could see that Nathaniel had already made his way down the darkened hallway so she smiled again, then followed him.

Nathaniel sagged onto the bed as soon as she opened the door. Propping a pillow behind his head, Alexandra swung his feet up and rolled him onto his side to examine the bandage. There was little fresh blood. He just needed to rest.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she turned her attention to the room, which was almost as sparse as the lobby. A washbasin containing gray, tepid water stood near the window, and a chest and a chair were placed on either side of the iron bed. One small rug covered the filthy wood floor. None of the mismatched furniture was in good condition, but it was the smell of the place that offended Alexandra most. Old sweat and camphor balls combined to create a musty odor that prompted her to open the window straightaway. The stench of the open sewer that ran through the gutter outside, made worse by the warmth of the afternoon sun, motivated her to hurry and close it again.

Taking the pitcher from the washstand, she left the room in search of fresh water.

“Pump’s at the end of the street,” the innkeeper told her when he saw what she carried.

Alexandra scowled at him, wondering why she’d been left with dirty water in the first place. “And some clean linens?” she pressed.

“Yer a picky sort for not ‘avin’ paid a farthin’ as yet.” He entered a small room behind him and returned with two towels and a set of sheets.

When Alexandra returned, Nathaniel felt hot to the touch. She took a clean rag, dipped it into the cool water, and dabbed it across his forehead. He didn’t move, but he seemed to be resting comfortably.

“You’re going to be all right, my pirate captain,” she whispered. Then, exhausted herself, she curled up next to him as a vision of the house and children she had always wanted flashed across her mind—the one that came with a husband who was kind and stable.

She had craved such peace and comfort since her mother had died. But when she looked at Nathaniel and felt the warmth of his body next to hers, she was tempted to trade it all away for whatever the pirate captain could provide... if only he would ask her.

* * *

Alexandra was awakened by a gentle hand stroking her arm. The sun was setting and its rays filled the room with a golden light as she glanced up to see Nathaniel watching her.

“Are you all right?” she murmured.

“You could make me better,” he replied, giving her a crooked grin.

She batted her eyelids coyly. “Meaning...”

“Meaning it’s about time you made good on that offer you made me at Gunther’s place. Didn’t you say you wouldn’t charge me a farthing for an hour or so with your glorious body?” He reached over to cup her chin in his palm and began kissing her neck.

The feather-light touch of his lips made Alexandra shiver. “I was speaking hypothetically,” she reminded him.

“Well, the hypothetical is here.” He lowered his mouth to where her dress gaped away from her chest and tickled the swell of each breast with his tongue. “I never pegged you as the type to go back on a bargain.”

She tried to bat him away, but the attempt was halfhearted at best. “Unlike someone else I know,” she replied, lowering her eyelids as desire pooled, warm in her belly. “What was it last time? A trip to shore for a kiss? “

His smile broadened. “Don’t worry, I don’t plan to cheat you this time. I plan to take my time and give you all you want and more.” He slowly undid the buttons of her dress and pushed it off her shoulders to below her bust. Admiration filled his eyes as his gaze lowered. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered. “Even more beautiful than I imagined.”

Alexandra could see his outline in the dwindling light, the aristocratic features, the strong chin, the square jaw. She’d removed his shirt before checking his wound, and the muscles of his torso rippled smoothly beneath his bronze skin as he moved. Nathaniel was thinner, but his body was no less defined for all his ill treatment. In repose, his face could look boyish, especially when his dark hair fell across his brow. But when he was filled with hate or anger—or passion, like _now—the planes of his face looked chiseled from stone.

Luxuriating in the heat their bodies generated, Alexandra let her fingers travel up his bare arm. He closed his eyes as her hand moved onto his chest, where she spread both palms against him, feeling the softly curling hair that grew there.

“See? I don’t bite,” he whispered hoarsely. Nipping at her ear, he added, “Not hard, anyway. Do you remember that time I walked in on you after your bath on the Vengeance?”

Alexandra nodded. “How could I forget? You looked as though you might eat me for dinner.”

He chuckled. “A promise I still intend to fulfill.”

“We can talk about the past,” she said, “but please, don’t let me think about tomorrow.”

Nathaniel pulled back to look at her with shocking intensity. “You can’t go into this blind, Alexandra. I don’t know what my future holds, or when, if ever—”

She raised a finger to his lips. She didn’t want to think. She wanted only to relish the way his hand moving over her body made her quiver like the most delicate note of a harp vibrating on the air. Nathaniel was not the one she had always pictured in her dreams. In fact, he was almost the opposite. He was headstrong, sometimes arrogant, definitely dangerous. His emotions were palpable and often tempestuous. She couldn’t see him in the role she had assigned to her calm, steady, imaginary husband.

But she could picture no one else as her lover. No one else could possess her body—and her soul—like she knew he could.

She pressed her ear to his chest to hear the steady thump of his heart until Nathaniel once again lifted her chin and found her mouth with his own. His lips were soft but firm as they moved with mounting pressure. The warm, velvety softness of his tongue slid into her mouth. Yielding, Alexandra let herself be carried away by the passion that swirled about them like a river’s strong current, pulling her away from safety to some unknown destination.

Nathaniel left her lips to trail kisses down her throat, stopping only when her hands delved into the thickness of his hair to pull him back for more. The unforgiving muscle of his body, the unique smell of the sweat glistening on his torso, and the budding desire to know him in a way she had never known a man created a heady mixture that put sanity safely out of reach. How long had she imagined this moment? No matter how many times she had tried to force away any thought of Nathaniel making love to her, such visions had encroached on her dreams, slowly ensuring her heart won the battle with her head.

His large hand cupped her breast, circling below it and lifting it for his examination as though he saw some magnificent work of art. He traced its swell from her collarbone to its very tip, then his mouth lowered to take her nipple between his lips and to tease it with his tongue.

Alexandra’s stomach did a somersault, and she arched toward him as he moved from one nipple to the other.

Pulling her dress down to her waist, Nathaniel’s eyes followed his hand along the flat planes of her stomach.

Alexandra felt a moment of self-consciousness and was tempted to cover herself, but something more powerful wanted no barriers between them. Reaching out, she fiddled with the buttons of his breeches, and his hand quickly moved to help her.

He slid his pants off his lean hips, and Alexandra gasped at the sight of his maleness. Never had she seen a man without his clothes; the sight nearly melted her bones.

“I don’t know what to do,” she whispered, hearing the wobble in her voice as his hand began to seek out the most private parts of her body. “You’ll have to guide me.”

“Everything will come naturally,” he said, but her words seemed to give him pause. After a moment he lay without moving, as though trying to rein in his desire.

Finally he rolled away, his face set. “We can’t do this.”

Alexandra stared at him, willing herself to feel something besides a longing so powerful she almost reached out to pull him back to her. The quiet, safe existence she had always wanted seemed less important than having Nathaniel fulfill the promise his body had already given hers. “I want to feel you inside me,” she whispered. “Don’t stop.”

He closed his eyes, breathing deeply through his nose, but didn’t speak.

“What’s wrong? Don’t you want this?” she asked.

Moving beyond touching distance, as though he feared the slightest contact, he sat on the edge of the bed with his head bowed. “I’m wanted by the authorities. It’s bad enough that I must leave you in London on your own. I won’t deflower you as well. What if I leave you with child?”

Alexandra tried to slow the pounding of her heart by taking several carefully measured breaths. She almost said that she didn’t care, that she’d welcome a child of his. But she knew he was right. How would she care for a baby? She had no job, no home. And would she want to bear a child that would never know its father? It was only a matter of time before the duke—or the constabulary—caught up with Nathaniel to take him away forever.

She watched him scrub the whiskers on his face with his hand and nearly drew him back to her, in spite of everything, when a knock sounded on their door.

“Where’s my money, wench?” the innkeeper shouted through the panel.