Regency High Society Vol 2: Sparhawk's Lady / The Earl's Intended Wife / Lord Calthorpe's Promise / The Society Catch. Miranda Jarrett

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СКАЧАТЬ coward, you say,” he said so softly she nearly didn’t hear him. “Dear God, I never wanted to hurt you.”

      Then his hands, his touch, were gone. Bereft, she opened her eyes and saw he’d retreated across the stable, his back against the slatted boards of a stall as he crouched down in the straw, his arms folded tightly over his bent knees and his chin resting on his arms. The light from the lantern hanging overhead was harsh, sparing him nothing. His jaw was bruised from press-gang’s beating, already swollen and mottled, and in his eyes was the same empty, haunted look Caro remembered from that first night.

      The nightmare, she thought miserably. Something that she’d said or done had brought it back.

      “I didn’t mean that about you being a coward,” she said softly. “I’m sorry.”

      “Don’t be. You believed it when you spoke, and God knows it’s the truth.” He sighed and rubbed his fingers into his eyes. “So let me guess. Hamil has your precious Frederick prisoner, and you wish me to go fetch him home. That’s it, isn’t it?”

      “Only to Naples, to his mother,” said Caro eagerly. “She is the one who has heard through the Neapolitan court—they maintain diplomatic relations with the Pasha of Tripoli for their trade, you see—that Frederick still lives, and that Hamil would consider a ransom for him and your friend Mr. Kerr, too. I thought that because you’d fought Hamil before you’d like the chance to meet him again. Not as a friend, of course, but as men do, you know—oh, dear, that’s not coming out at all how I intended!”

      “You mean would I like another crack at killing him the way he nearly did me? A bit of bloodthirsty revenge amongst the savages, with a nice little errand delivering dear Frederick’s ransom on the side? Is that what ‘men do’?”

      Caro winced. “That makes it sound vastly foolish, doesn’t it?”

      “Men are vastly foolish, sweetheart, though I’ve never had reason to judge women much better.” He plucked a piece of straw from the floor and twirled it absently between his fingers. “So to make all this work, you must rely on the promise of a heathen pirate, the good will of an old woman who despises you, and the vengeful wrath of a coward you scarcely know?”

      “I told you I don’t truly believe you’re a coward!”

      “Ah, but Caro, I do.” He tossed the straw away and slowly stood. “You’ve chosen the wrong man to be your hero.”

      She looked down, unable to meet his eyes. “It wasn’t a choice. There were no others. You were all I had.”

      “Damnation.” He didn’t want to do it, and he’d be ten times a fool to agree. He didn’t trust the old countess in Naples or George Stanhope here in England, the Pasha of Tripoli or Hamil Al-Ameer; any of them could play Caro false in a minute. And God in Heaven, what he himself could do to her hopes without even trying, a pitiful battered Yankee who was afraid of the dark!

      Yet there was Davy, and maybe others. To turn his back on them would be to admit far worse of himself than cowardice alone.

      And then there was Caro herself, waiting for his decision there by the post like some poor felon in the dock. An exhausted, bedraggled countess in secondhand clothes who’d tried to do her best to save him just as he’d saved her. A beguiling, unpredictable creature who mixed world-weary airs with unstudied innocence. A luscious, desirable woman who melted in his arms and tempted him with lips redder, plumper, sweeter than summer berries on the vine.

      A woman who expected him to risk his life for the husband she loved.

      Damnation, indeed.

       Chapter Seven

      “You’ve gone too far this time, Jeremiah,” declared Desire furiously, “too far by half!”

      “Oh, hush, Des, ‘tis not so bad,” scoffed Jeremiah, standing beneath the rack of polished pans and kettles in the grand kitchen of his sister’s house. He sipped coffee from the cup the scullery maid had brought him with a curtsy and a giggle, and enjoyed the fuss as the staff pretended to go about their preparations for tea, their collective ears straining to hear what their mistress and her brother said. “Considering some of the scrapes you’ve gotten yourself into over the years, I’d say that drinking coffee stands pretty far down the list of offenses.”

      “That’s not what I mean, as you know perfectly well!” She glared at him as she rapped her knuckles impatiently on the tabletop. “You’ve no business coming skulking back here, not now, not after what you’ve done!”

      He smiled innocently. “Here? In the kitchen?”

      “I’m in no mood for you now, Jeremiah Sparhawk! I’ve seven captain’s wives in my drawing room for tea, all in a fluster over this highwayman loose on the Portsmouth roads. One of them even brought me the handbill that’s been posted since the villain was last seen so close to my home.” She glared at him, her green eyes a match for his own, and lowered her voice against the eavesdropping. “A sight closer to my home than any of them realize. For all love, Jere, they have you down to the buckles on your shoes!”

      Jeremiah laughed, remembering how George Stanhope had trembled and squeaked while he was being robbed. Amazing he’d recalled enough to tell the magistrate.

      “This is serious, you great oaf!” whispered Desire urgently. “They’ve put a price on your head!”

      Jeremiah’s laughter vanished. “They’ve put a bounty on me because I took a worn-out purse with a handful of guineas and tossed it in the poor box?”

      “You can forget being Robin Hood, at least as far as George Stanhope’s concerned, and he has friends enough to make it stick. No English gentleman wants to be at the mercy of some roving brigand, and they’ll hang you for certain if they catch you.”

      He set the cup down on the table, his pleasure in its contents abruptly gone. “But they don’t know this thief’s name, do they? They won’t come looking for me here without it.”

      “I can’t protect you in this, Jere,” she said wearily as she rubbed her back with both hands. “With a new war coming, the whole countryside’s suspicious of foreigners, even Americans like us. The only thing worse would be if we were French.”

      “Amen to that,” he said gruffly. This whole conversation made him uncomfortable. All their lives, he’d been the older brother watching over her. Now Desire seemed somehow to be chiding him for irresponsible behavior, and with every right, too.

      “French or American, you’re the man that’s described on that handbill. Anyone who knows you would recognize you at once. You’re not exactly the kind of man who can lose himself in a crowd.”

      She glanced around the kitchen and sighed. “For all I know there’s someone on my own staff who’ll put those hundred pounds before their loyalty and turn you in. They might be doing it even now.”

      “I’m sorry, Des, as sorry as can be.” He’d been wrong to underestimate Stanhope; the man was more clever—or just plain mean—than Jeremiah had given him credit for. The last thing he wanted was to put his sister and her children at risk, and by simply being here in the house he was doing СКАЧАТЬ