He chided himself at once for teasing her.
For a moment she stiffened, but her expression soon relaxed. Her eyes twinkled, and she brushed a piece of straw from his coat. "I can be so absent-minded."
A knock rapped on the door.
"Enter." Fiona's voice was clear and strong.
Mr. Potter appeared. "The reunited couple, I see."
"Thank you again for your assistance last night," Fiona chirped.
"Always eager to help a damsel in distress." The man did a short bow, and Percival scowled. Fiona seemed utterly oblivious to the man's interest in her.
"Let's go, darling wife." Percival smiled tightly and fought to ignore the sudden heat that flowed through him, when Fiona slipped her fingers under his arm, as naturally as if they truly were married.
"Let me just tip this man." Fiona removed the bag of coins he'd given her last night and slid one to the man.
Mr. Potter's eyes rounded. "Thank you, missus."
Percival's eyebrows rose a fraction at the woman's liberal distribution of her newfound money.
"Ready to go? Or do you want to stay longer, dear?" Fiona smiled sweetly at him.
He swept his gaze over the faded furniture and sentimental objects. "I will strive to recover from the sadness of leaving this place."
"How very brave of you." Mirth filled her eyes, and her lips spread up.
Percival wished he could put more smiles on her face.
Except that was a ridiculous thought.
Percival's steps were careful as he followed the man down the rickety stairs, and his brow remained furrowed, his mind consumed with unwanted thoughts.
"Is that our sleigh?" Fiona exclaimed. "How marvelous."
Percival followed her gaze. Zeus on Olympus.
A bright red sleigh that conjured up thoughts of all things sentimental and romantic sat outside.
The burly chap beamed. "There it is."
"I'll send somebody back with it. We won't be long." She held up her hand and slid into the sleigh. Her hair glistened under the sunlight.
A rosy flush graced her cheeks, and Percival clenched his hands together. No need for her to see them tremble.
Mr. Potter tilted his head. "I figure you need help."
"Nonsense." Percival gritted his teeth and clambered inside, ignoring the sharp pain from his leg. The sleigh was far too small, and he was conscious of the way in which her long skirts brushed against his good leg. His nostrils inhaled that sweet vanilla scent, and he forced his head away rapidly, hoping the warmth rising on his cheeks was not as visible as it felt.
He shouldn't have kissed her last night. He shouldn't have been goaded by the comments of the other men. The thought of reliving that ecstasy invaded his mind, and he should be focused on fleeing her, nothing else.
He sighed. At least he might cause her some discomfit. He pulled her closer to him, enjoying the way in which her green eyes widened and her black lashes swooped up, as if she were truly some innocent chit. "This is not so horrible, dearest."
Mr. Potter waved as they drove off.
"Care to share where we're going?" Percival whispered.
"I live nearby," she said.
"I warrant you're set up in some God-forsaken house."
"Some people might say that." Fiona had the indecency to turn her lips up, as if she didn't recognize his insult.
Percival rubbed his leg. "That blasted floor . . ."
She grabbed the reins from him. "Let me drive."
"No, I-"
"I'll want you nice and refreshed." The woman was matter-of-fact.
"What do you have in store?"
"You'll find out."
He narrowed his eyes. "I demand that you declare your plans."
"That's all?" She smirked, and her green eyes sparkled.
"And release me!" he stammered. "I demand you release me as well."
She laughed. "And leave you on this road? You wouldn't survive very long. You have absolutely no idea where you are."
"I'll have you know that I've traveled throughout the continent!"
"Ah, so has my grandmother."
"Leading troops!" He scowled
Fiona squirmed. She no longer pointed a knife in his direction, and he supposed he could direct the sleigh in whichever direction.
For some reason, he didn't want to, and he despised it. Snowflakes fell more rapidly, a curtain of coldness. They fluttered down in thick, decadent shapes, toppling this way and that, oblivious to the havoc they caused.
"I'm not a thief."
"So you've told me," Percival remarked dryly.
"One year ago I made a mistake." Fiona's voice quivered.
"We've all made mistakes."
"My mistake was telling my grandmother and sister that I was engaged."
"So tell them you're not engaged."
The horses rounded a corner.
And then his mouth dropped open.
A huge castle sat in the valley. Snow covered the sloping roof and turrets, but it was impossible to avoid seeing just how fine the place was. Gargoyles perched underneath the gables, and classically beautiful statues dotted the yard.
Everything was immaculate, and everything differed completely from the abode he'd imagined she'd take him to.
If a criminal lived here, it was not someone who'd made his money robbing travelers. By Zeus, maybe she wanted to steal from the place. Except that seemed unlikely since his leg forced him to be an imperfect accomplice. "What is this place?"
"Cloudbridge Castle." The woman tucked a strand of loose hair over her ear. "I live here."
"As a-maid?"
"Only the unmarried kind."
He tilted his head, and her cheeks pinkened.
"I'm an ordinary spinster."
"Not a criminal."
She shook her head. "I'm not quite as exciting. My name is Miss Fiona Amberly. Perhaps you've heard of my brother-in-law Lord Somerville?"
Percival coughed. "The earl?"
She nodded. "From the Worthing family. His older brother is the Marquess of Highgate."
Percival rubbed his hand in his hair. "So when you said you wanted to kidnap me and bring me somewhere-"
"I wanted to bring you here." The woman spoke matter-of-factly, as if what she was doing was completely obvious and self-explanatory, as if loads of women were in the habit of capturing men and dragging them to their castles.
Percival scratched his head and rather feared that all the intelligence his teachers had praised him for at Harrow and Edinburgh had vanished. Because this-this didn't make sense.
"So this has nothing to do with my position?" Percival spoke slowly.
"Of course it does."
His head swiveled to her.
"You're a gentleman. You'll be very suitable."
He relaxed his shoulders.
"I would be most appreciative if you could tell them that we are betrothed-"
"You want me to pretend to adore you?"
Chapter Eleven
Percival scowled. "That's the most ridiculous thing I ever heard."
"Please though? Could you pretend you didn't despise me?" Fiona thrust her eyes down, and the pink on her cheeks transformed to a definite red shade. "The story is that we met in London four years ago, two weeks into my season, and you proposed. We decided to keep the engagement secret because you were going to fight Napoleon, and that's the reason I abandoned my season. I called my fiancé Captain Knightley."
He raised his eyebrows. "Like a medieval knight?"
She stiffened. "I suppose."
"Do they expect me to appear on a white horse as well? Just who do you think is good enough to be your impostor fiancé? Are you only after princes? Kings?"
"Please?"
"Find another pretend husband," Percival growled.
He could have escaped, he could have protested, and he'd been too fearful to do so. She wasn't a criminal. She was just a spinster, one too meek to find a husband for herself. And Zeus, she'd barged her way into his most private musings. "I'm not going along with your preposterous plans."
"You won't do it unless I give you a reason?"
"I will never agree!"
She sighed. "I have your jewels."
"Excuse me?"
"The packet … The one you kept touching."
His breath stopped.
"I took them while you were sleeping," Fiona continued.
"So you are a thief."
"I'll give them back to you. After."
Percival's hands twisted with the urge to destroy something. Stomping both feet would feel wonderful right about now. He'd met women intent on having him for their fiancés before, but never a woman who wanted him to pretend to be someone else. He wondered whether this was some elaborate scheme for an actual marriage, but the woman seemed completely unaware he was a duke and far more worthy of romantic idealizations than some captain with an absurdly heroic name.
"Please?" Fiona's face took on a mournful expression he abhorred. "It need not be for long. I only want to introduce my Grandmother to you."