At the Highwayman's Pleasure(33)

       
           



       

Hannah's eyes narrowed, but she turned on her heel and walked to the door.

‘Come, Phineas, I see that you were right about her. She is sinfully stubborn.'

Phineas glared at Charity.

‘Be warned, madam, you would be wise to go far away from here. If you will not leave willingly, then you must be removed.'

She put up her brows. ‘And just how do you plan to do that? You have no jurisdiction here.'

‘I shall be watching you.' He leaned towards her again, hissing, ‘And I  don't believe you know nothing about that highwayman. I'd be willing to  wager you are his whore, otherwise, when his plan failed, why did he  not have the stomach for mine? I'll catch the scoundrel, you mark my  words, and when I do he will hang and, if I can prove you are in league  with him, you will hang, too!'

He stormed out, banging the door behind him, and Charity sank back down  onto her seat. She closed her eyes, concentrating on breathing in and  out as if steadying her nerves for a performance, although in truth she  had just given the performance of a lifetime. The door opened again and  she heard Hywel's anxious voice.

‘I have just seen Weston and his wife leaving. Smudgeon told me they  slipped in when the boy was minding the door. Are you all right,  Charity?'

‘Yes.' She opened her eyes and looked at him. ‘Yes.' She sat up a  little straighter. ‘I braved his wrath, listened to his empty threats  and I did not crumble.'

He frowned.

‘Weston did not bully you into leaving Allingford?'

‘He tried, but no.' A smile was growing inside her. ‘No, he will never bully me again.'

* * *

Despite her newfound confidence, she was happy for Hywel to make it  known to all his staff that Mr and Mrs Weston should not be allowed  backstage in future. She also found her father's remarks about Ross  troubled her. What did he mean when he said Ross had no stomach for his  plan? Just what had Phineas suggested to Ross and why had he not told  her?

The question nagged at her, but she was no nearer an answer two weeks  on, as she prepared for the last performance of All for Love. She left  her dressing room and went up onto the stage, trying to clear her mind  ready for the play, and it was out of habit that she peeped through the  curtains. The auditorium was packed and noisy and she was not expecting  to see Ross, so her heart gave a little jolt when she saw him. Perhaps  it was his stillness, standing at the end of one of the benches while  all around him people pushed and jostled. He looked solemn, grim even,  and her heart went out to him. She hurried back to the dressing room  where Betty was busy mending one of her gowns.

‘Betty, love, pray leave that and take a note out to the audience for  me.' She pulled a piece of paper towards her and picked up a pencil.  There was no time to hunt around for pen and ink. ‘You will find Mr  Durden in the theatre. Do you not know him? He is a tall gentleman,  plainly dressed, and he wears his own hair, dark and naturally curling.  Rather unruly, in fact.' Had she said too much? ‘Seek him out, if you  please, and make sure he gets this note.'

‘Now, madam-!'

‘Do not argue, Betty, there is no time-there is my call. I must go on  stage.' Charity folded the note and handed it to her maid. ‘Do this for  me, dearest Betty, and I shall be for ever in your debt!'

* * *

The cheers and whoops of appreciation rang around the theatre. Charity  made her curtsy, saluted Will, her leading man, then turned again to  face the audience. She could not help herself, she peered into the pit.  It was impossible to see clearly past the flaring limelight, but she  remembered roughly where she had seen Ross, so she concentrated on that  area. Surely it was his tall figure she could see at the end of one of  the benches? She sank down into another curtsy and as she rose she  pressed her hands to her lips, then extended them towards the  darkness-and the place she believed Ross to be sitting.

There, she had done what she could to convey to him how much she wanted  to see him. Will and the other actors were milling around on the stage  behind the curtain. She stopped momentarily to congratulate them, then  returned to her dressing room, immediately demanding of Betty if her  note had been delivered.

‘Aye, ma'am, I gave it him, but he looked so fierce when I spoke to him that I fear he was offended.'

‘Then you must go and look out for him,' said Charity, pushing her  towards the door. ‘Bring him here directly and do not let Elias Smudgeon  turn him away!'                       
       
           



       

‘But what about your dress? You cannot get out of it alone-'

‘You shall help me later. It is important that you find Mr Durden  before he leaves the theatre.' She hustled Betty out of the door and  shut it behind her, uttering up a prayer that Ross would not go home  without seeing her.

I only want to ask him what Phineas suggested to him, she argued as she  removed her headdress and wiped the heavy make-up from her face. There  is nothing wanton or lustful about that. I merely need to know what my  father is up to.

She brushed out her hair, trying not to think of the passing time,  desperately hoping that he would not refuse to see her. At last she was  rewarded by the sound of footsteps in the corridor. She snatched open  the door and almost sighed with relief when she saw Ross standing there.  He filled the doorway, his eyes glittering with a fierce light that  burned into her.

‘I was afraid you would not come.' She reached out and caught his hand, drawing him into the room.

‘I should not have done so.'

Charity barely registered the curt tone, thinking only how much she had  longed to hear his voice. Her eyes scanned his face, noting the  clenched jaw, the tensed muscles around his mouth. His whole being  radiated tightly controlled energy like a wild animal ready to spring.  With the open door behind him she feared he might even now leave her.  She was still holding his hand and with great daring she raised it to  her lips.

‘I have looked out for you every night-'

She heard him groan, felt the slight movement as he kicked the door shut.

‘You should have looked in vain!' He dragged her into his arms. With a  sob she turned her face up, inviting his kiss. ‘Oh, my dear, golden  girl,' he muttered as he covered her face with kisses. ‘Did you know you  were looking directly at me at the end of the play, when you blew that  kiss into the audience?'

‘I was not sure, but I hoped-'

Her breathless words were cut short as he kissed her again. He drove  his hands into her hair, holding her firmly while he took her mouth and  plundered it savagely. She responded with equal fervour, instinctively  following his lead, tangling her tongue with his as her bones liquefied  and the pent-up desire flowed through every part of her body. His hands  roved over her, sliding down her back and over the soft swell of her  buttocks to pull her closer. The gold tissue of her gown was lined with  silk, but now it grated against her skin. Her breasts felt heavy and  swollen, aching for his caress.

‘No.' He forced out the word and raised his head. ‘This is madness.  Dangerous madness. For God's sake, send me away now, sweetheart, before  it is too late.'

She almost cried, bereft when he held her away from him. He was  grasping her shoulders and she leaned her cheek against one hand, saying  with a sigh, ‘Oh, my dear, it is already too late for me.'

Keeping his gaze firmly upon her, he reached behind him and turned the key in the lock.

‘If you are sure?'

She ran her tongue over her lips. They were swollen from his onslaught,  but yearning for more. Whatever happened, if she never saw him again,  she wanted this.

She said slowly, ‘I have never been more certain of anything in my life.'

Her heart soared at the leap of triumph in his glance. He swooped down  upon her again and she closed her eyes, felt his tongue slide like silk  between her lips, his hands pushing the flimsy gown from her shoulders.  There were no stays beneath, but the costume was shaped to cover her  breasts like a skin and when it resisted his attempts to release her he  ruthlessly tore the gold tissue away. Even as it shimmered to the ground  he was lifting her out of it, carrying her to the daybed where he lay  her gently down and fell to his knees beside her. Charity watched his  face as he regarded her nakedness, exhilarated by the wonder in his  eyes. He reached out to run his hands over her body, cupping her  breasts, his thumbs circling the hard peaks until they were aching  almost painfully. She arched against his hands and reached for him,  trying to tear off his clothes. He released her just long enough to  undress, then measured his length against hers on the narrow bed.