The Abducted Heiress

Chapter Four

Desire kept her back straight and her head up, though she couldn’t bring herself to look in Jakob’s direction. She was grateful for the gathering twilight. It hid her humiliation. She wished she could curl up into a protective ball like a hedgehog or, better yet, return to the safe familiarity of her garden at Godwin House. She had never felt so alone. So far adrift from all the accustomed securities of her life.

As the small boat cut through the dark waters of the Thames, her thoughts skittered from one subject to another. The probable, heart-wrenching loss of her home. Jakob’s kiss. Her household’s worry when they discovered she was missing. Jakob’s kiss. Anxiety over what she would encounter at the end of this journey. Jakob’s kiss…

He’d kissed her. She slid a nervous glance in his direction. Her lips still tingled from the amazing feel of his mouth on hers.

He had wanted her. Desire still wasn’t quite able to credit the evidence of her own senses, but Jakob had bluntly admitted as much.

To her knowledge, no man had ever wanted her before—not like that, as a man wants a woman. So why did Jakob—so full of handsome male grace—want her? Desire was sure he could charm any woman he chose into his bed. Why did she arouse his lustful instincts?

It was confusing, disturbing—and a little exciting.

Desire threw another nervous glance at him. What would she do if he kissed her again? Or if he tried to do more than that?

She blushed with mortification at his scornful response when she’d claimed she was to marry Arscott. It was easy for Jakob to sneer. He did not understand the complications of her situation.

Even before the events of Saturday, Desire had known she needed a husband. At thirty she was well past the age of marriage. But it was hard to find an honourable husband when she had no one to negotiate on her behalf. Her father had not meant to leave her so unprotected. Unfortunately the man Lord Larksmere had appointed as Desire’s guardian had died in an accident less than a year after the Earl’s own death. By then Desire had already been over twenty-five and Arscott had been Lord Larksmere’s trusted steward for years. Life had continued in Godwin House much as usual. The only problem was Desire’s lack of a suitable husband.

If she’d had more knowledge of the world—or if she’d considered herself a more attractive bargain—she might have found it easier to tackle the difficulty herself. But she knew it was her wealth that possessed the greatest appeal and she lacked the experience to distinguish between a fortune-hunter and genuine suitor. If she made the wrong choice, the consequences would be devastating. Marriage to Arscott would be a practical solution to the problem, but she could not bring herself to take such a course.

So how was she to find a trustworthy husband, one who was not disgusted by her scars and who might even, as Jakob apparently did, find her in some limited way attractive? Perhaps a man who resembled Jakob in some other respects as well—she threw a swift glance at his broad shoulders as he plied the oars—but a man with a much more tractable nature. And definitely not a man who was both a mercenary and an escaped prisoner.

Despite her perilous situation, Jakob’s kiss had inspired her with a small flicker of unfamiliar optimism for her future. For years she had been convinced that no young man could ever find her personally attractive. Yet from virtually the first moment he’d appeared on her roof, Jakob had paid little heed to her disfigurement. He had argued with her, fought with her and kissed her without any reference to her appearance. She had been so certain—and so afraid—that all young men would be of the same opinion as the Duke of Kilverdale and his fashionable friends. What if she’d been wrong? What if she could find a man who would—?

The boat bumped gently against a landing stage.

A flare of anxiety jolted Desire from her musings. In only a few short minutes she would be face to face with the Duke. She lingered in the boat as Jakob tied it up, taking the opportunity to grope for the river-gate key in the dirty water at her feet.

‘Is there no one else you can call upon for assistance?’ she asked, hating the unsteadiness of her voice. ‘Does it have to be Kilverdale?’

‘I know very few people who live near London,’ Jakob replied. ‘And Kilverdale is the only one who won’t be disconcerted by our unconventional arrival. But he didn’t reply to the message I sent him from Newgate, so he probably isn’t here, and you won’t have to face him at all.’

Kilverdale’s failure to respond to Jakob’s message fitted perfectly with Desire’s opinion of the ramshackle Duke, but her mood marginally improved at discovering he might not be home.

‘I don’t suppose he’d be disconcerted if you turned up with a band of minstrels, a dancing bear, and half a dozen whores and declared you were going to have an orgy,’ she said, allowing Jakob to help her out of the boat.

Then she became aware of his startled appraisal, and wished her impetuous words unsaid.

‘I think he would,’ Jakob said after a considered pause. ‘I’m not generally known for travelling with musicians and dancing bears.’

He paused again, leaving Desire rather sick at the implications of what he hadn’t denied.

‘As to holding an orgy,’ he added, a few heartbeats later, amusement in his voice, ‘it would be damned inconvenient hauling half a dozen wenches with me everywhere I go. One is quite enough trouble!’

‘Oh.’ Desire flushed in the darkness. She wondered if she was the one who caused him trouble or…was he talking about another woman? Was he married? The idea had never occurred to her before. She faltered, then rallied. ‘It wasn’t your conduct I was commenting on!’ she said pertly.

‘I know.’

Before she realised what he was doing, Jakob slipped his arm around her waist and drew her closer to him.

‘What did he do to you?’ he murmured against her temple.

Desire was too shaken by his action to reply. She didn’t understand Jakob, or what he wanted with her. It was foolish to find his gentle embrace and quiet question comforting. He was her abductor! An escaped prisoner who had forcibly removed her from her own house. So why did she have an almost irresistible urge to lean against his tall, powerful body? And why did she have the strangest feeling that, if she did so, he would support her? It was only a silly fantasy. With an effort she gathered her composure and stepped away from him.

‘It’s not important,’ she said, her voice sounding spiky to her own ears.

‘Very well.’ Jakob took her hand and drew it through his arm. ‘Then let us go and beard the lion in his den,’ he said.

‘It’s you that’s the lion,’ Desire replied, with forced brightness. ‘Your mane is real.’

Jakob laughed, and she sensed him shake his head in the darkness. ‘My mane, like the rest of me, is in a disreputable state,’ he declared. ‘I need a bath.’

Their arrival at Kilverdale House caused consternation. The porter clearly didn’t recognise Jakob. He was all for having the disreputable, soot-grimed—and, in Jakob’s case, half-naked—visitors thrown off the property. Desire hovered behind Jakob’s broad back, fearing at any moment to hear the Duke’s arrogant voice. Instead it was the Duke’s steward who appeared.

‘Colonel Balston!’ he exclaimed, after staring at Jakob for a few seconds. ‘You’re safe! I heard the commotion, I thought his Grace had returned. Stand aside, Dawson,’ he added peremptorily to the porter. ‘Come in, sir! Come in! His Grace has been looking for you all over.’

‘Is he here?’ Jakob asked.

‘No, sir. He arrived earlier this afternoon—briefly. Demanding to know if you were here. Then he read a message that had been delivered in his absence. It was from you. His Grace expressed…er…agitation.’ The steward cleared his throat. ‘And left again.’

Desire took note of only one thing the steward said—the Duke was not present. Her relief was so profound her legs turned to water. She clung to Jakob’s arm, only half listening as she regathered her composure.

‘För bövelen! Why the hell can’t he stay in one place for more than five minutes at a time?’

‘His Grace was very anxious about your welfare,’ said the steward, looking disapprovingly at Jakob’s naked torso.

‘He would have contributed far more to my comfort if he’d been at home on Sunday,’ Jakob grumbled. ‘Well, never mind. I dare say he’ll turn up eventually. He usually does.’

‘Colonel Balston?’ said Desire suspiciously, finally catching up with the conversation.

‘My lady?’ Jakob swivelled on his heel to look at her. A flicker of concern replaced the impatient expression in his eyes.

‘Henderson,’ he addressed the steward. ‘Send for the housekeeper at once. Her ladyship must be waited upon immediately.’

‘Yes, sir!’ Henderson sent a hurrying minion to perform the errand. ‘I’m sorry, sir. My lady, please come this way.’ He led them into a large room leading off the hallway. ‘Your arrival took me by surprise. I apologise for my lack of hospitality. Please.’ He gestured for Desire to sit in a high-backed chair, carved with Kilverdale’s coat of arms. ‘His Grace would wish you to have everything needful for your comfort.’

Desire hung back, disconcerted by the steward’s effusiveness. Jakob had not introduced her by name—perhaps deliberately to protect her reputation. Her morale had already begun to lift when she’d discovered that the Duke wasn’t at home, and improved even more when she hadn’t recognised Henderson. It seemed likely that Kilverdale kept entirely separate staff in his houses in Putney and Sussex. As long as none of the other servants recognised her, and she managed to leave before the Duke returned, there was a good chance no one would ever need to know of her ignominious adventure. Especially since Jakob seemed willing to be discreet.

‘Comfort,’ she said suddenly, recalling the last thing Henderson had said. ‘We must tend to your hands,’ she told Jakob, deciding for the moment to set aside the peculiar matter of his changed name. ‘Do you have any salves for burns?’ She turned back to the steward. ‘Are any of your household skilled in the care of wounds?’

‘N-no, my lady,’ Henderson stammered, obviously disconcerted at being addressed so briskly by his unknown and tattered guest.

‘Then I need lights,’ Desire announced, heading for the door. After all the upsets of the day it was reassuring to feel once more in control. ‘At once, if you please,’ she added, when the steward simply stared at her. ‘There are a number of plants which can be beneficial to burns. I must see if any of them grow in the gardens here. I need light!’ she repeated firmly, when Henderson still didn’t respond.

‘Light! Yes, my lady, of course.’ He finally stirred into action, calling for the porters to provide illumination for her. ‘I’m sorry, sir. I did not realise you had been hurt,’ he apologised to Jakob.

‘There’s no need to make such a fuss,’ Jakob growled. ‘My hands will do very well without any plants.’