Never Trust a Rebel(18)

She was listening, spellbound, to this catalogue of evidence and hardly noticed when he stepped closer. He took her chin between his finger and thumb. Her head came up under the gentle pressure of his hand and she was obliged at last to meet his eyes.

‘The mask you wore only enhanced the dainty line of your jaw and those full, cherry-red lips. And as for your eyes, they sparkled so enchantingly through the slits of the mask that I am surprised any man could resist them.’

He was holding her gaze and she saw the look in his eyes change, darken. She was drawn deeper into the spell he was creating around them, his words spinning a web as fine as gossamer, as strong as steel. She felt quite dizzy and her hands clenched around the now empty glass as she resisted the temptation to clutch at his coat and hold on to him. He ran his thumb lightly across her lower lip and her eyelids fluttered.

She almost moaned with the sensual longing that seemed to melt her inside. She wanted to kiss him. The ache was so strong that it took all her will-power not to reach up and pull his head down so that she could do so. She knew such behaviour would be considered wanton, and it was only the fear that he would pull away from her in disgust that kept her motionless, even though her body was screaming for release. Her breasts felt so full and tender she thought they might burst through the bone and silk of her bodice.

These sensations were so new and frightening that her body trembled. Heady anticipation began to bubble up inside as her body answered to the siren song of his presence. Could he not feel it? Hope soared for an instant, only to be dashed and replaced by a searing disappointment when Drew released her.

‘So,’ he said lightly, taking the glass from her nerveless fingers. ‘Now you know why it is important that you have a chaperon to accompany you when you go into society. To protect you from the bad men.’

Elyse knew the danger had passed. She should be relieved, but instead she felt unaccountably bereft and close to tears. She must not show it, however, and forced a little smile as she tried to concentrate upon his words.

‘And do you count yourself a bad man, Drew?’

‘Of course.’ A shadow crossed his face. ‘I am an adventurer, and they are the very worst kind.’

She heard the bitterness in his voice and her heart contracted, as if a vice was squeezing it dry. If only she could take his face in her hands and kiss away the pain she saw in his eyes but that was impossible. What had he called her? A child playing a woman’s games. He did not see her as anything but a nuisance. She must not embarrass him further with her impetuous actions.

Besides, kisses were for brothers and fathers. For husbands and lovers. Drew was not, could never be, any of those and it was not her place to comfort him. The distant chiming of the church bell announced the hour.

‘It is late,’ he said, his tone matter of fact. ‘I will give orders that breakfast is to be put back in the morning. We are less than forty miles from Bath and there is no need for a very early start.’

‘Thank you.’ Elyse clasped her hands together to disguise the fact that she was shaking from the chill of unhappiness that had penetrated her very bones. ‘I must go to bed.’

‘I will escort you, it would be most improper for you to be wandering alone around the inn at this hour.’

Improper, Drew, but not so dangerous as being alone with you.

Silently she accompanied him through the dimly lit passages of the inn to the door of her room, where he stopped. He reached out and took her hand, lifting it to his lips.

‘Goodnight, Elyse Salforde.’

She gripped his fingers and said urgently, ‘You are not a bad man, Drew. I will never believe that.’

The flickering candles in their wall sconces sent the shadows dancing across his face, almost as if he had suffered a sudden spasm of pain.

‘You do not know me.’



You do not know me.

Drew’s parting words echoed through Elyse’s head far into the night, and they were still there when they resumed their journey. When they had met at breakfast he had been polite but distant. By tacit consent they went back to addressing each other formally, and when she had tried to apologise again for slipping off to the ball he stopped her, saying it was best forgotten. But she did not want to forget. Not everything. The noise and excitement of the ball had set her pulse racing and although she had not enjoyed being pawed and ogled by the drunken men, she had experienced a fierce pleasure when she’d recognised Drew and realised he had been watching over her. She had put that down to her relief at being rescued from unwanted attentions in the ballroom, but when they had been alone at the inn and he had moved so close she had felt a breathless, heart-thudding exhilaration.

That Drew had not taken advantage of her she knew was solely because of his strength of character. He had desired her, she had seen it in his eyes and her own body had felt the tug of mutual attraction. He thought her too young, too innocent, but Elyse was beginning to recognise her own feelings and she knew that if he had taken her in his arms at that moment she could not have resisted.

She remembered the first time he had kissed her, to teach her a lesson. She had been ashamed, yes, and humiliated, which had been his intention, but she could still recall the leap of excitement she had felt at his touch, the way his body had called to hers. It was a dangerous, forbidden desire and Elyse could only be thankful that Drew had not acted upon it. He might be an adventurer and a self-confessed rake but he had a strong sense of honour. Papa had charged him with delivering her safe to her fiancé and she knew Drew would do everything in his power to fulfil his obligation.

Elyse turned her head slightly so that she could watch him as the coach rattled on towards Bath. He was lounging back in the corner, one hand pushed into the pocket of his frock-coat and his hat pulled low over his eyes. Only the lower part of his face was visible to her and she took the opportunity to study him, the lean cheeks and strong jaw, the mouth that even in repose had a slight upward tilt at the corners, as if he was always on the verge of laughter. Very rakish. Very attractive. She caught herself up on the thought. Drew was her guardian and he was going out of his way to escort her to her fiancé. Whatever he was, whatever his past, she should be grateful for that.



When they stopped at Calne to change horses Drew did not move, but Elyse knew he wasn’t sleeping.

‘Do you not wish to get out and stretch your legs, sir?’

‘No.’

‘Why, are you hiding, perhaps?’

He pushed his hat up and looked at her.

‘Why should I do that?’

‘I am not sure,’ she said slowly, considering the matter. ‘Perhaps you are afraid of being recognised.’

‘What a foolish notion.’ He refuted the idea coolly and pulled his hat low again, leaving Elyse once again to the enjoyment of her own company. She did not object, for there was so much to see and once they had left the bustling inn she settled back to watch changing scenery outside the window. She did not know whether it was the new horses or the terrain that made their progress slower, but she was too diverted by the unfamiliar landscape to worry. A layer of heavy grey cloud covered the sky but even so she was entranced by the view.

Rolling hills and verdant woodland stretched away on either side, interspersed with hedged fields and small, picturesque villages. At every bend there was something new to observe, a pretty group of cottages or a grand manor house nestling amongst the trees and instead of the grey stone of the north the buildings here were built of wood or a warm, honey-coloured stone. She became aware that her companion was stirring and was about to remark upon the delightful countryside when she heard him mutter angrily under his breath. By the time she turned to face him he had let down the window and was shouting to the coachman to stop.

‘What is it?’ she asked. ‘What is the matter?’

He did not reply, but jumped out as the carriage slowed and she heard him addressing the coachman.

‘Why are we going this way? The road via Box is much the quickest route.’

‘I’ve got me orders, sir.’

‘Wait—you are not the driver who brought us to Marlborough.’

‘No sir, we comed from Bath—me an’ the guard—to bring you in from there, since we knows the road better.’

‘If that is so then you know I am right, the road through Box would be quicker.’

‘Blocked, sir, so we’ve had to come by way o’ Biddestone.’

The route meant nothing to Elyse, but when Drew climbed back into the carriage and they set off again she quickly asked him to explain.

‘We have taken a more northerly road and will enter Bath via Batheaston.’

‘Is it not a good road?’ she asked, observing his frowning countenance.

‘Perfectly good,’ he replied, ‘but one would normally take the more direct route. However, if it’s blocked there’s no help for it. ’Tis awash, I suppose. It was always prone to flooding.’

‘You must be very familiar with this area, sir, to know that.’

‘I am.’

Elyse frowned over this as Drew sat back in his corner, his eyes fixed on the passing landscape. The rolling hills were lost to sight as the road descended through an area of thick woodland, robbing the carriage of even more light and plunging them into gloomy shadow.