Earl of Hearts(36)

She liked to think she was the one.

She knew he cared for her. But he'd also cared for Selena. And how many  others before her? It was in his nature to protect those weaker than  himself, to do the right thing no matter what he had to sacrifice.

But he'd married her in Scotland and was going to marry her again in  England. Twice. Two marriages. And the Earl of Hearts, as Mrs. Finch had  called him, would only marry for love. Please, let it be so.

John cleared his throat. "Are we done with the social niceties? I've  much to accomplish this evening. Take care of my wife, Mrs. Finch. As  you can see, we've come with nothing. The shops along High Street will  be closing soon and Lady Bainbridge is in need of the basic  necessities."

He turned to Nicola. "Sweetheart," he said with a casual intimacy that  thoroughly surprised her, for the most loving term he'd used until this  very moment was "brat." "Make a list of whatever you need and Mrs. Finch  will take care of it."

She nodded.

He kissed her on the cheek. "I won't be gone long."

She nodded again. "Be careful."

He left without bothering to respond, for he was no longer the tender,  doting husband, but the hunter-predator on the prowl, determined to  destroy Somersby and whatever treasonous plot he and his fellow  conspirators had conceived.         

     



 

Nicola hastily made a list of what she needed and handed it to Mrs.  Finch. "There's one more thing I need," she said as the woman tucked the  list into her ample waistband. "A book with a cover similar to this."  She withdrew Somersby's book from the pouch John had left dangling over  the footboard and held it out for her to inspect.

Mrs. Finch scratched her head. "Any book?"

Nicola nodded. "As long as its binding is similar to this one. I know it  is an odd request, but my husband will understand. Feel free to tell  him, but it is vitally important that no one else knows."

The woman's eyes narrowed. "I can tell yer husband?"

"Yes, I have no secrets from him. Please, Mrs. Finch. We are obviously  in dire straits and your discretion is of vital importance. If you must  know, we are running from a spurned suitor of mine who is intent on  killing us." It wasn't a lie. That Somersby cared not a whit for her and  only wanted the book was not necessary to mention.

"Are ye truly married to Lord Bainbridge?"

She nodded. "In Scotland. He's gone off to obtain a special license so  that we can be legally married in England. Not that our marriage isn't  already legal. It is," she rushed to add, realizing the innkeeper might  toss them out if she believed otherwise. "But he is an important man in  England and holds a much coveted title. He wishes to remove all doubt  that we are well and truly married."

A small smile escaped the woman's lips. "So he's marryin' ye twice?"

Nicola sighed, realizing she'd said too much and would never make a good spy. "Yes."

"Good heavens, he must really love ye."



AFTER MAKING CERTAIN no suspicious characters were lurking around the  inn, John concentrated on where he was going and what he meant to  accomplish in these next few hours. He tried not to think of Nicola, for  she was safe and he needed to remain alert, his instincts honed to  detect anyone following him or any attempted ambush.

His first stop was to secure the special license and make arrangements  for a quiet wedding ceremony early in the morning. He then headed to the  Bainbridge office, knowing it would be locked up for the evening by the  time he arrived. Only Harry, their reliable night watchman, was on the  premises. Harry's terriers were with him, two small dogs who served  mostly as ratters but had also been trained to hold off attackers. Since  John had helped to train them, he expected they would recognize him.

The dogs yipped with glee as he approached and furiously wagged their  tails. He knelt down to pat them. "Horace. Mortimer. Have you lads  behaved yourselves while I've been gone?"

"Lord Bainbridge, is that you?" Harry asked, lowering his pistol and  setting it back in its holster. "Lud, it is you. No one told me you were  comin' here. Forgive me, m'lord. I would never have aimed-"

"Quite all right, Harry. Glad to see that you're as diligent as ever."  He strode inside and went to his office, opening the safe and removing  sufficient funds to pay off the captain of the northern whaler and get  that ship out of port before one of Somersby's cohorts made the  connection and began searching for him and Nicola in Harwich. He took  additional funds to purchase some niceties for Nicola for their travel  to London, preferring to pay his way instead of leaving his name  wherever they stopped. "Have you noticed anyone lurking around here  recently?"

"No, m'lord. But I'll keep my eyes and ears open. The dogs would have barked wildly if any strangers had come near."

"If anyone does come around asking questions, you haven't seen me."

The guard quirked his head, but nodded. "Whatever you say, m'lord."

"It's important, Harry. The life of a very special young lady is at stake."

"And yers too, I expect." He ran a hand across his thick neck. "Ye have my word, of course."

John returned to the Three Cups Inn fairly late in the evening and used  the servant's staircase to enter the room he'd obtained for him and  Nicola. Nicola was still awake, curled up in a big chair beside the  hearth, reading Somersby's accounts and sipping a cup of what appeared  to be hot cocoa. By the look of the plate beside her on the side table,  she'd eaten all of her supper. Her hair was washed and almost dry,  tumbling in curly waves over her shoulders and down her back. She wore  only her thin camisole, but the fire blazing in the hearth provided  enough warmth to chase the October chill from the room. She looked soft  and rosy and quite delectable.

He cleared his throat and made a little noise as he entered. "I'm back."         

     



 

She gasped and stared at the latched door first, then realized he'd come  in through the hidden door beside their bed. "Thank goodness." She  jumped to her feet. "Did everything go as planned? Do you think anyone  followed you?"

He removed his jacket and tossed it on the bed. "No, it seems this is  the one town Somersby's men haven't thought to search yet. I expect he's  concentrating his efforts on London now. He knows we can't be far  away."

She sighed. "I can't wait until this adventure is over. I shall never  complain about Lady Stafford's agonizingly dull musicales or those stiff  Ladies Horticultural Society teas with all those bombastic matrons  peering at me through their lorgnettes. I think I shall even hug that  wretched snoop Lady Phoebe Withnall when I next see her."

John laughed as he sank down in a chair by the table, preparing to tug  off his boots. "One gets used to being chased when you've done this as  long as I have. But even I get weary of it at times."

Nicola set down her cup and came over to help him. "Oh, John. How  thoughtless of me. You must be hungry and tired." She pointed to the  platter on the table. "There's food for you and a bottle of wine. But I  can ring for Mrs. Finch to bring up some ale if you prefer."

She glanced at the tub that was standing by the fireplace. "The water's  cooled down by now, but it's clean and should be comfortable enough for  you."

"Is that your polite way of telling me that I'd better wash up if I'm to touch you tonight?"

Nicola's eyes rounded in horror.

He'd meant it as a jest, but she'd taken the comment to heart. When he  opened his arms to her, she came to him eagerly, offering no resistance  when he drew her down onto his lap. "I'm teasing you, brat. I fully  intend to wash. I must smell like the rankest back alleyways." He kissed  her soundly on the lips, glad that she did not seem to mind the dust  and grime that clung to his clothes.

"After all those days on the whaling ship and the permeating scent of  blubber, I think you smell as sweet as a summer rose," she said,  chuckling as she eased off his lap to allow him to finish removing his  clothing. He quickly bathed, and once finished, put his pants back on  for the sake of propriety. He wasted no time in devouring the leek soup  and mince pie that had been brought up for him, for he was famished. He  finished the ginger biscuits that Mrs. Finch had also left for them, and  washed them down with a glass of wine.

The biscuits and wine did not go well together, and he realized too late  that the pot of tea beside the biscuits was meant for that purpose.

Nicola grinned at him. "Remind me never to put my hand in front of you  when you're hungry. But I wouldn't mind if you approached our …  um,  activities in bed with equal ardor."

"Ah, I promised you an unforgettable night."

She shook her head. "We have a lifetime for that. If you're exhausted-"