Книга - A Warriner To Protect Her

A Warriner To Protect Her
Virginia Heath


An heiress in distress and an earl in disgrace…When heiress Violet Dunston escapes from an abduction she finds an unlikely protector in Jack Warriner—a member of one of England’s most infamous families. Ensconced with mysterious Jack behind his manor's walls, soon escape is the last thing on Letty’s mind!Jack may be an earl but his father’s exploits have left him with nothing to offer except a tarnished name. He’s turned his back on the ton, but with Letty tempting him day and night, he finds himself contemplating the unthinkable—a society marriage!







An heiress in distress and an earl in disgrace...

When heiress Violet Dunston escapes from an abduction, she finds an unlikely protector in Jack Warriner—a member of one of England’s most infamous families. Ensconced with mysterious Jack behind his manor’s walls, soon escape is the last thing on Letty’s mind!

Jack may be an earl, but his father’s exploits have left him with nothing to offer except a tarnished name. He’s turned his back on the ton, but with Letty tempting him day and night, he finds himself contemplating the unthinkable—a society marriage!


The Wild Warriners (#u103cb96e-b780-5940-aa18-165caf4eab51)

Four brothers living on the edge of society...scandalising the ton at every turn!

Tucked away at their remote estate

in Nottinghamshire are the ton’s

most notorious brothers.

The exploits of Jack, Jamie, Joe and Jacob Warriner’s parents—their father’s gambling and cheating, their mother’s tragic end—are legendary. But now, for the first time, the brothers find themselves the talk of the ton for an entirely different reason...

Because four women are about to change their lives—and put them firmly in society’s spotlight!

Find out what happens in:

Jack’s story

A Warriner to Protect Her

May 2017

Jamie’s story

A Warriner to Rescue Her

July 2017

And watch for Joe and Jacob’s stories—coming soon!


Author Note (#u103cb96e-b780-5940-aa18-165caf4eab51)

I have a thing for old Hollywood musicals. The glorious Technicolor, breathtaking CinemaScope and stereophonic sound captivated me as a child. Back in the days of VHS, when you had to tape things off the TV, I had a great collection of them which I would watch over and over again. Singin’ in the Rain, Calamity Jane and Meet Me in St Louis are three of the greatest films ever made, if you want my opinion, but the best of all is Seven Brides for Seven Brothers.

I love that film. I adore the premise. Seven down-ontheir-luck brothers, living in a shack in the middle of nowhere and eking out a living from the land. Looked down upon by the rest of the community because they’re a little bit wild, they’re all desperately in need of a wife and yet never meet any women at all—let alone court one.

In homage to that wonderful film I’ve created my Wild Warriners. Four brothers tainted by the dreadful reputation of their hideous ancestors, practically broke and forced to toil on their estate because they can’t afford to pay anyone else to do it. And all desperately in need of that special someone. Their perfect match.

This story is the first in the series and follows Jack Warriner, the eldest brother and head of the family. He’s proud, stubborn and used to being in charge. What he needs is a feisty woman to stand up to him...


A Warriner to Protect Her

Virginia Heath






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


When VIRGINIA HEATH was a little girl it took her ages to fall asleep, so she made up stories in her head to help pass the time while she was staring at the ceiling. As she got older the stories became more complicated—sometimes taking weeks to get to their happy ending. One day she decided to embrace her insomnia and start writing them down. Virginia lives in Essex with her wonderful husband and two teenagers. It still takes her for ever to fall asleep…

Books by Virginia Heath

Mills & Boon Historical Romance

The Wild Warriners

A Warriner to Protect Her

Stand-Alone Novels

That Despicable Rogue

Her Enemy at the Altar

The Discerning Gentleman’s Guide

Miss Bradshaw’s Bought Betrothal

Visit the Author Profile page at millsandboon.co.uk (http://millsandboon.co.uk).


For Tracy Croft.

Mentor, friend and feisty heroine.


Contents

Cover (#uf179e1af-8e95-50da-8c4d-b49acd58a7c0)

Back Cover Text (#u01fff32a-265f-58f6-ae6a-505a93928165)

The Wild Warriners (#u5fd432a0-7203-5186-a2b8-115415452c62)

Author Note (#u35ed2c51-4bf6-505a-ab6a-65ed8263f549)

Title Page (#u6ae443d1-a718-52f0-92ba-4b3b2a674de2)

About the Author (#u2e14d0a5-6f72-57d7-83bb-c7e175a3addc)

Dedication (#u5a060936-e945-5d4d-b0ce-a07a1df70b70)

Chapter One (#u2b7de85b-0401-5c14-9ee6-1135782a10b4)

Chapter Two (#u870914d0-eee9-5521-bbf0-92eab22f1acf)

Chapter Three (#u8dd4af28-5e63-5796-a24d-f03f71856ac1)

Chapter Four (#ue463d148-6a94-59b7-b4b1-66d0f43a75bc)

Chapter Five (#uc06d868c-07c1-5cd5-9463-0474464c4ca3)

Chapter Six (#uf1f793f2-7395-531a-aaaa-8e445d31ae4a)

Chapter Seven (#u814fd230-40f3-5998-80a7-39641752b98b)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One (#u103cb96e-b780-5940-aa18-165caf4eab51)

1st December 1813. One month, three days and

approximately eighteen hours remaining...

The thin cord dug into her wrists painfully. Letty ignored it to focus on the practicalities. She barely opened one eye and peeked through her lashes. The Earl of Bainbridge’s crinkly, grey head was lolling sideways, swaying slightly with the motion of the carriage—eyes closed, mouth slack—and she experienced a moment of relief to know he had finally nodded off. She risked opening her eyes properly for the first time in the better part of an hour, raising her head carefully from the seat to look out of the small strip of window still visible between the dark curtains which hid her from the world.

It was black as pitch outside.

A good sign.

It meant they were deep in the countryside, miles from any life, and the fact she could not even see the stars suggested this part of the Great North Road was edged with sheltering trees. Bainbridge’s tatty coach was also flying along at speed, another indicator that they were a long way from the next inn or village. So far, each time the driver had approached one, the wheels had slowed and he had rapped loudly on the roof. Then the Earl had violently restrained her, his gnarled hand clamping tightly over Letty’s already gagged mouth, the point of his boot knife pressed ominously against her throat as they had either passed through or the horses were quickly changed.

As he dozed, that very knife was still resting on his knee, his fingers loosely clasping it. Just in case. There seemed little point in trying to wrestle it from him when her main priority was escape. The last time she had showed any signs of struggle, Bainbridge had swept the back of his hand maliciously across her cheek with such force, his signet ring had sliced through the soft skin on her lip, leaving it now swollen and painful around the gag. For protection, she had pretended the blow had rendered her unconscious and had not moved a muscle since. If it had achieved nothing else, it had given Letty time to think.

As stealthily as she could, she rose to sit up and silently edged her bottom incrementally towards the door. If she could reach the handle, she could throw herself on to the road. After that, if she survived, she really had no idea what she was going to do. It was not really much of a plan, but as she had no desire to go to Gretna Green and she would much rather be dead than married to Bainbridge, it was better than nothing.

The Earl began to snore. But it was erratic on account of his upright position, the sort of snoring which woke a person up. There was no time to lose. Letty stretched out her bound hands and lunged at the handle desperately and, by some miraculous twist of fate, she managed to do this as the carriage veered slightly towards that side. She crashed into the door, wrestled with the handle and it flew open, taking her with it and tossing her sideways.

Instinct made her curl into a ball before she hit the ground, to protect her head and her limbs. Still the impact was sheer agony, pushing all of the air out of her lungs and blinding her with pain. Sharp stones embedded themselves in her skin as she rolled; muddy water shot up her nose and seeped through her closed eyelids, stinging them mercilessly. Almost as a blur in the distance, Letty heard a shout go up from the carriage, now further ahead, then the squeal from wheels when the brake was suddenly applied.

She rose to her knees, forced her bruised and battered body to move, practically dragging herself into the dark and silent trees. Then she ran. There was no thought as to direction. Just as long as it was away from the road, it didn’t matter where she was going. She ignored the way the tangled branches seemed to reach out and grab at her clothing, nor did it matter that the deeper she plunged into these woods, the darker and more terrifying they appeared. Nothing could be as terrifying as being caught again by that dreadful man.

In the distance, she could still hear their angry voices, yet with every yard, those voices became fainter and fainter, spurring her to put even more distance between them as she ploughed recklessly forward. Until her lungs burned and her muscles screamed and she could run no further.

* * *

What Jack should have done was go straight home. But hindsight, in his experience, was overrated. It only served to bring about regrets, and frankly, Jack Warriner had quite enough of those already. So what if he was now drenched to the skin and frozen to the bone? The inn had been warm, the ale good and the company, for once, friendly. He had meant to stay for just the one drink. Just to clear the dust of the road from his throat and to enjoy a few minutes of respite from all of the responsibilities which stifled him before he wound his way down the last three miles to home. But one drink had soon turned into three. And three became six. Then the innkeeper had brought out the whisky and someone else had produced a fiddle, and before he realised it, he had been singing loudly with the rest of the patrons, stamping his feet, clapping his hands and behaving like a young man without the entire oppressive weight of the world on his shoulders.

Now he was paying for his rare moment of weakness. The rain was impressive, even by December’s standards, and would have been coming down in heavy, vertical lines had it not been for the wind. But to compound Jack’s current misery, as he fought the inevitable after-effects of far too much alcohol in too short a period of time, the relentless north-easterly was forcing the fat rain drops almost horizontal. Right into his face.

Thank goodness there was only a half a mile or so left. Soon he would be home. Safe in the house which ate money for breakfast, luncheon and dinner. His grand stately pile, the opulent legacy of his lofty title, a leaking, creaking, millstone around his neck. The place where all hopes and dreams were mercilessly crushed under the hobnail boot of responsibility, while Jack sunk deeper and deeper into debt with every passing year. Just thinking about it made him lethargic.

And slightly nauseous.

Or perhaps that was merely the whisky and the ale. Jack wiped his dripping face with the back of his sleeve and almost lost his seat when his horse suddenly reared noisily. He struggled with the reins to bring the beast under control and that was when he saw her. Almost like a ghost, the woman appeared out of the trees. Her skin eerily pale in the flimsy moonlight, hair and thin dress plastered to her body, eyes as wide as saucers as she stared back at him. Then she fled, wet skirts and a pronounced limp hampering her progress.

It took several seconds for his alcohol-impaired mind to register what else he had seen. A vicious gag. Bound hands. Sheer terror.

She was stumbling ahead of him along the narrow, rutted lane which led to his house as if her very life depended on it. Judging by the state of her, it probably was. Jack’s wits finally overpowered his inebriation and he swiftly directed his horse after her.

‘Miss! Wait! I mean you no harm.’ The wind carried away his words.

As he came alongside her, Jack bent low in the saddle and grabbed her arm. She spun around and tried to extricate herself from his grip, fighting like a cornered fox to escape him.

‘I mean you no harm!’

He could tell by the way she struggled that she was exhausted. Shouting at her was not going to calm her.

‘Let me help you.’ He said this quietly and he saw her blink as she heard him. To prove it, he released the grip he had on her upper arm and held up his gloved hands as if in surrender. Automatically, she went to bolt and he forced himself not to try to stop her. It was the right thing to do. She hesitated. Turned back. Her wide eyes locked on to his and she simply gazed at him, as if she were searching the depths of them to the man he was inside, to see if he could be trusted. Then, almost as if all her strength and determination was gone, she began to slip to the ground.

Jack managed to grab her arm again before she crumpled into a heap and used all of his formidable strength to pull her now deadweight body on to his saddle. He cradled her in his lap; her damp flesh was like ice and it made him wonder how long she had been out here, exposed to the winter elements. She felt so very delicate in his arms. Precious.

He tried to work the gag free. It refused to move. Rainwater had sealed the knot tight and whoever had tied it had done it so harshly, he could not move it. This close, he could just about make out the bruising on her face. Her lip was badly cut and swollen, suggesting she had been beaten as well as bound. And the very fact he had discovered her stumbling blindly along a deserted lane, past midnight and wearing what appeared to be only a bedraggled, sleeveless silk gown meant she had probably managed to escape. Only then did it suddenly dawn on him that her captors might be searching for her. Whoever had bound and beaten this delicate woman was not going to be the sort of person to listen to reason. If she had escaped, it went without saying they would stop at nothing to get her back. Whoever she was, she needed his help.

Without thinking, Jack kicked the horse into a gallop, holding the reins tightly with one hand while the other held his unconscious passenger close to his body to keep her safe. He ignored the sting of the wind and rain on his face. Nothing else mattered but getting her home and to safety. Markham Manor might well be in dire need of a new roof, but at least his troublesome ancestors had had the good sense to surround it with a twenty-foot wall and an archaic pair of similarly proportioned gates which weighed a ton. He had a feeling tonight, for the first time in over two hundred years, the Warriners might actually need them.


Chapter Two (#u103cb96e-b780-5940-aa18-165caf4eab51)

One month, three days and approximately

sixteen hours remaining...

Jack carried her limp body into the hallway and shouted for his brothers at the top of his voice. Used to jumping to attention at his tone, they arrived one by one on the landing. First came Joe, the second youngest and only four years his junior, and by far the one he was keenest to see first. He took one look at the woman and the physician in him burst to the fore.

‘I’ll get my things.’ And he was gone again.

Then came Jacob, the youngest, who crossed his brother on the landing, dark hair on end and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Close behind him limped Jamie, the closest in age to Jack. Both men instantly sprang into action the moment they spotted the burden in Jack’s arms.

‘What the hell?’

Jacob just stood and gaped as he reached the bottom step, trailing after Jack as he hauled the woman into the high-ceilinged great hall which now served as the drawing room. He had already lowered the woman on to a sofa by the time Jamie managed to get there. Like the brilliant soldier he had been before his injuries, it did not take his brother long to assess the situation.

‘Where did you find her?’

‘She just appeared in the middle of the road. She was conscious then.’ That she had failed to regain consciousness in the last twenty minutes was a worry. In the dim lamplight, her skin now had a grey pallor beneath the caked mud which did not bode well.

‘Any signs of whoever did this to her?’ Jamie asked.

Jack shook his head. ‘But the storm is still raging outside. Even if there had been an army right behind me, I doubt I would have heard them. Make the place secure!’

Jamie responded immediately to Jack’s command, turning to Jacob. ‘Get my sword and pistols from my bedchamber, and grab something for yourself. We’re going to close the gates.’

The two brothers were gone by the time Joe returned with his medical kit. Despite the fact there had been no money to send him to university again this year, Joe had still relentlessly studied medicine in the vain hope he would one day qualify as a doctor. He had done since he was a young boy. What he did not know about the workings of the human body was not worth knowing. He watched Jack carefully cut through the gag and the cord at her wrists, then remove them, before kneeling to examine her.

‘She’s like ice, Jack! We need to warm her up.’ Joe fished in his bag for some scissors and began to cut the woman’s clothing open from the hem up.

‘What do you think you are doing?’ Jack exclaimed, because somehow stripping the poor girl seemed a bit extreme.

‘I have to get her out of these wet things, Jack, and dry her off or it will be impossible to warm her. Hypothermia can kill. Fetch some blankets.’

For once, Jack did exactly as he was asked. His younger brother might well bow down to him on all other matters, but in this situation, he trusted Joe more than anyone else to help the stranger. Secondly, Jack had precious little medical knowledge, had no idea exactly what hypo-whatever-it-was meant and it felt morally wrong to stand by gawping while she was relieved of her clothing. Wasting no time, Joe was in the midst of his examination when Jack came back, his patient’s torso thoughtfully now covered in a coat.

‘I do not think she has suffered any broken bones, though until she is awake, it is difficult to know for sure. There are cuts and bruises all over her—see?’

Jack passed the pile of blankets towards his brother and glanced down at the poor girl’s visible bare arms and calves. His brother was not wrong. Filthy wounds and grazes marred the pale skin. ‘Look at the bruising here.’ Joe pointed to the left arm. ‘If I had to take a guess, I would say she had a bad fall from something and landed on her side. Judging from the size and colour of the bruise, it’s a miracle her arm or collarbone did not shatter from the impact. Some of these punctures are quite deep. The cut on her lip is nasty too. And her wrists have been rubbed raw by the cord around them—those wounds are angry and prone to become infected. She had to have been tied up for hours. I need to clean them all thoroughly.’

Relegated to the role of nursemaid, Jack busied himself by boiling kettle after kettle of water and traipsing the heavy buckets backwards and forward from the kitchen to the hall, leaving his brother to do what was necessary and feeling impotent in the process. As each layer of grime and embedded grit was removed, Joe commented on how miraculous it was that the woman was not more injured, yet she did not regain consciousness nor did she lose her deathly colour. Despite the now roaring fire in the enormous stone fireplace and the heap of blankets that swaddled her, her core temperature did not increase. Her swollen lips were blue tinged, her hands and feet like icicles.

‘She must have been out in the cold for hours, Jack. I am worried she actually has hypothermia. She’s barely breathing now and her pulse is definitely slowing.’

‘What can I do?’ Because there had to be something. The idea of her dying in their house tonight was horrifying. Not after he had done his best to save her, seen the stark terror in her eyes.

‘You gather her up, Jack—share your body heat with her while I finish with all of the other injuries.’

‘Share my body heat?’ It sounded far-fetched, but Joe had proved to be right before. ‘How exactly do I do that?’

‘Hold her in your lap like a child.’ Joe lifted her carefully at the base of the shoulders, exposing her bare back. They swaddled the blankets around her like a baby’s shawl and Jack sat so the pair of them could manoeuvre her into his lap.

It was all well and good Joe telling him to hold her like a child—but it was blatantly obvious she was no child. There was too much of her, so his brother tucked her legs up beneath the covers to warm her extremities, while Jack smoothed his palms briskly along the sides of her arms in an attempt to create some heat from the friction. Her back and bottom were so cold he could feel the chill through the layers of woollen blanket and his clothing, and if she had not been breathing he would have thought he was holding a long-dead corpse. He gathered her close protectively and wrapped his arms about her, hoping she would absorb whatever warmth she needed from his body, crooning to her as his brother towel-dried her sodden, matted long hair before wrapping a blanket around her head too.

‘If she was awake, I could make her drink something. Warm milk or tea might help to speed up the process.’ Joe ran his hands through his thick dark hair in agitation. ‘I suppose I could try and spoon some into her?’

All Jack could do was shrug. He had no clue as to what should be done and from his position beneath the girl, he was hardly in a state to assist his brother further. Being powerless was not something he excelled at. He hated feeling so useless when he was usually the one in control. All he could do was continue to hold her cradled in his arms, searching her wan face for signs of life. As he waited for Joe to return from the kitchen, his other two brothers returned. Both looked as if they had just walked through a hurricane.

‘Only an idiot would be out in that!’ said Jamie, shaking off the rain. ‘But the gates are bolted and we saw nothing in the lane. If somebody turns up, we’ll all deny any knowledge of your mystery damsel until we know what the hell this is all about. How is she?’ He limped painfully towards the sofa and stared down at the still bundle in Jack’s arms.

‘Joe’s patched her up as best as he can for the time being. Now we’re trying to get her warm.’

Jamie did not instil a great deal of confidence with his next words. ‘I’ve seen many a man killed from exposure to the elements. It’s when they stop shivering you have to really worry. Is she shivering?’

She was not. Jack did not want to think about what that meant. ‘She won’t die!’ Not if he had anything to do with it. ‘Joe is fetching some warm milk.’ As if milk was some magic medicine nobody had known about which would miraculously cure a poor girl who was almost frozen to death. Jack stared down at her. She was so still, and so frighteningly pale, she could almost have been carved out of alabaster. He remembered the fear he had seen in her wide eyes when she collided with him and hoped those awful few minutes would not be the last she was doomed to remember. ‘I don’t even know her name.’

Jacob, so far silent, went to the pile of wet clothes discarded on the floor and began to rifle through them.

‘She was not in the army, fool,’ Jamie said dismissively, ‘I doubt she will have her rank, surname and number written on her petticoats.’

‘You’d be amazed what ladies keep in their petticoats.’ Jacob did not look up from his task. ‘Although to know that, you would have to know how to charm the ladies, Jamie, which you don’t.’ He sat back on his heels and triumphantly waved a small square of intricately embroidered linen. ‘I, on the other hand, am very charming. Her name is Letty.’ He balled up the damp cloth and threw it at Jamie’s head. ‘It says so on her handkerchief.’

Jack stroked his index finger gently over her cheek and willed her to wake up. ‘Letty. Letty, sweetheart, can you hear me?’

* * *

Letty. Letty, sweetheart, can you hear me?

She did not recognise the voice, but it had a calming lilt to it even though it came from a strange man. It was not Bainbridge and it was not her uncle. That was all that mattered. Letty struggled to open her eyes, but they would not budge. She was so very tired. So tired she did not have the strength to be frightened. Something was pulling her upwards to a place she wanted to go, yet something, someone, held her firm, preventing her from floating away. She was cocooned rather than imprisoned. Safe.

She felt something warm trickle down her throat. She couldn’t taste it. Strong arms around her. More of the warm liquid. Letty. Try to swallow, sweetheart. Sweetheart? That was nice. Nobody had ever called her sweetheart before. We need to warm you up. Now that she considered it, she was cold. Every part of her ached. Not surprising considering what had happened to her. Bainbridge. The carriage. The woods.

Panic came afresh. What if they had found her? She forced her eyes open. Intense blue eyes met hers. You’re safe, Letty. They were beautiful eyes. Troubled eyes. Reassuring eyes. I am going to look after you, sweetheart. I promise. The deep lilting voice crooned against her ear. She sighed. It was all she had the strength to do and her eyes fluttered closed again. The painful gag was gone. And he was holding her.

There were worse ways to go.


Chapter Three (#u103cb96e-b780-5940-aa18-165caf4eab51)

One month and one day remaining...

Letty experienced the sensation of falling and it woke her with a start. It took her a few moments to focus in the daylight, but when she did two pairs of identical blue eyes were staring down at her. Frightened, she had intended to scream; the strangled mewling noise she managed was really quite pathetic.

‘Shh...’ said one of the pairs of eyes kindly. ‘Everything is all right. You are safe here.’

She could make out the blurry edges of the speaker’s face. Dark hair. Smiling. Next to him stood another man who looked strikingly similar. They were definitely related. The same dark hair, the same deep blue eyes, but he was frowning. She knew those eyes.

‘My brother rescued you from the road,’ the smiling man said, stroking one of her hands, ‘You have had a bit of a fever and you are badly bruised, but miraculously you have made a very fast and splendid recovery. What you need to do now is rest. Give your body time to heal. In a few days, you will be as fit as a fiddle.’

Letty tried to speak, to ask where she was. However, her mouth felt so woolly, her tongue would not move. Her eyes flicked to the frowning man and he continued to frown, until the smiling man next to him gave him a sharp nudge in the ribs and he forced himself to smile. It did not touch his eyes. Letty could not quite make out whether the emotion swirling in those fathomless blue depths was concern or annoyance.

‘Why were you tied up and wandering in the woods?’ The smile slipped off his face as he stared down at her.

Again her stupid tongue would not move and she made some garbled sound.

‘Leave her be, Jack. You can interrogate the poor girl once she is better.’

Interrogate? Were these men her enemies, too? She did not recognise either of them as her uncle’s or the Earl of Bainbridge’s men—yet that didn’t mean they were not in their employ.

‘Here, Letty, take this medicine. It will help you to sleep.’

She was powerless to stop the spoon being pressed against her lips and recognised the bitter taste of the liquid. Laudanum. The exact same drug her uncle had forced down her throat before he had handed her over to Bainbridge. Letty struggled as best she could. To her surprise, it was the frowning man who came to her aid. The one with the familiar deep blue eyes.

‘Stop it, Joe. If she doesn’t want it, you shouldn’t force it on her,’ he commanded.

The young man instantly withdrew, concern etched on his handsome face. ‘I don’t want her to be in pain, Jack. She needs to sleep.’

Apparently, enough drops of the liquid had already entered her system because her eyes were suddenly very heavy. She felt another hand touch her face softly. She knew immediately whose hand it was and also knew she liked this man’s touch.

‘That’s a good girl. Close your eyes, sweetheart. Everything will be all right...’

* * *

It was still dark when she woke properly, but not so dark she could not see. Opening both eyelids, however, proved to be problematic. The left one would not open at all. The room was strange. The bed was warm and comfortable, and every bone in her body hurt like the devil.

The only illumination in the room came from a solitary candle on the nightstand and the moonlight streaming through the uncovered window panes. Letty tested her arms and found that she could, in fact, now move them. The tight cord her uncle had bound her with was gone then. Those bonds had left their mark on her wrists though; they were both sore and painful. She reached her other hand over to touch the opposite arm and felt her left wrist bound with bandages. More bandage bound her upper arm. She attempted to sit up, but gave up when her head began to spin and pound once again.

Bringing her hand to her face, Letty felt her swollen lip. It was sore still, although the cut caused by Bainbridge’s signet rig was healed over. She must have been here asleep for hours for that to happen. Or days? Further probing led to the discovery of a huge lump on her temple. It was hot and tender, the bruising spread over the front of her forehead and just above her left eye. The lid felt swollen and explained why it was so difficult to open. She probably looked a fright. Her hair felt gritty and matted with a substance she did not recognise, but suspected was mud. She was also beyond thirsty.

For a few minutes she simply lay there, wondering what to do and trying to take in the unfamiliar surroundings. The bedchamber was large and simply decorated. There was a plain, mahogany dressing table against one wall and a matching, and equally enormous, wardrobe on the opposite one. The small nightstand next to her and the bedstead were the only other pieces of furniture. The heavy curtains at the leaded windows hung open, giving her a good view of the night sky beyond. The steady patter of raindrops on the glass suggested that the dreadful weather had not improved at all. The window was closed, but not barred or locked. That was a good sign surely—unless she was so high up escaping from the window was an impossibility. There were lots of castles in Scotland, after all, and the walls and ceiling did have an air of the ancient about them, although the ceilings were too low to belong to a fortress.

Letty scanned the rest of the room for clues. There was one large rug on the wooden floor. It looked to be good quality despite its obviously advanced age. The lack of artwork on the walls or little knick-knacks strewn about gave the room a distinctly impersonal feel. She had no idea whether she was in an inn or a private house and, as she was completely alone in the room, there was nobody to ask. There was also nobody to help her. However, the bedchamber door was open, which made her feel better. If she was a prisoner, then her captors would hardly leave her unattended with the door open—not after what had happened in the carriage. Perhaps she was safe at last?

Slowly, Letty shuffled her body to a more upright position, pausing to let each new wave of dizziness pass. Her shoulder throbbed, the wrist on her left hand was still immensely painful and her left ankle was also a bit tender, but other than that she had escaped the carriage remarkably in one piece. Stretching out her good arm, she could just about touch the rim of the cup on the nightstand. She used the soles of her feet to push forward a little more until she could grab the top of the cup with her finger and thumb. Judging by its weight, she thought the vessel must be filled with liquid. However, the flimsy grip she had on it was not strong enough. The cup slid out of her fingers and crashed to the wooden floor below, taking the precious fluid with it.

The noise created a flurry of activity, accompanied by manly-sounding grunts, on the floor on the other side of the bed. A bewildered dark head appeared first, blinking eyes heavy with sleep, taking in the surroundings as he dragged one hand over his face and through his unruly hair. ‘You’re awake!’ he slurred, peering at her through semi-closed eyes.

‘Sorry,’ she croaked, ‘I dropped the water.’ Letty did not recognise him as one of her abductors, but there was something oddly familiar about him. Bizarrely, she had the distinct impression she could trust him and that she was safe with this complete stranger. Then she remembered him as the man who had prevented his accomplice from forcing more laudanum on her. If either of them had meant her harm, she was certain he would have held her down so the drug could be properly administered.

‘It’s all right.’ Stiffly, he raised himself to his feet and stretched his back and neck before shuffling around the bed to the nightstand. He was tall, and from what she could make out, broad to go with it. Older than her, but not by more than a few years. She felt a pang of guilt for inconveniencing him, whoever he was. It could not be very comfortable, or warm, sleeping on the floor. With his back to her he poured a fresh cup of water, then sat on the mattress next to her and guided it carefully into her good hand, wrapping his warm palm around her chilled fingers until he was sure that she could manage it alone. Letty greedily drank every drop so he refilled the cup without her having to ask. ‘It’s the laudanum,’ he explained gruffly. ‘My brother says it makes you thirsty.’

How his brother knew this, she had no idea, but he was right. Letty could not remember ever needing to drink quite as much as she did at this moment. She sipped the second cup more slowly, feeling self-conscious as he watched her. Even befuddled and crumpled from sleeping on the floor the man in front of her was very pleasant to look at. He was nothing like the men she had known in the ton. His hands were obviously used to hard work and had felt calloused when they’d rested briefly over hers.

‘My name is Jack Warriner, in case you were wondering.’

Jack Warriner was also a man who spent a great deal of his life outside. Even in the poor light of the bedchamber she could see evidence of a tan—tiny white crinkles fanned out from the corners of his eyes suggesting that he often squinted in the sun. Yet his accent was not coarse and his diction unmistakably pointed to that of a gentleman. The untucked, and undone, linen shirt he still wore emphasised his wide shoulders and strong arms. The thick column of his throat would look strangled in the high collars favoured by the men in society. And what gentleman of means would sleep on the floor next to an injured stranger? Such an onerous task would be delegated to a servant while the master slept. Unless he was her guard and was merely lulling her into a false sense of security? He was the sort of large, imposing man who would be suited to the job.

Letty watched him carefully as she finished the last drops of her water before passing the cup back to him.

‘More?’ he asked, lifting the stoneware jug for emphasis and she shook her head gingerly. ‘You gave us quite a scare, Letty, I don’t mind telling you.’ How did he know her name? ‘I found you in the road. You passed out, no doubt from all of the trauma and the cold, and you’ve been out like a light since. My brother Joe is training to be a physician. He patched you up, so you probably have him to thank for saving your life.’ His tone, his delivery was matter of fact. ‘Do you remember how you came to be bound and gagged and wandering alone in the forest?’

Before she answered his questions, she had a few of her own before she trusted him with the truth. Her uncle was no fool. He would offer an impressive reward to anyone who found her. His own future depended on her marrying the odious Bainbridge. And if the Earl was looking for her and retrieved her...well, she already knew how cruel he could be. She pretended to think and then shook her head. The motion caused a fresh wave of dizziness which he spotted.

‘Lie still. Try not to move your head too much.’

‘Thank you, sir. You are being very kind.’ Letty attempted a smile in the hope he would not realise she was already suspicious.

‘Call me Jack,’ he said with a wave of his hand, ‘everybody else does.’ The corners of his own lips curved upwards slightly, giving some respite from the perpetual frown he had worn since he had awoken, but it was still not a smile. He stared at her awkwardly for a few seconds before speaking again. ‘Would you like some more medicine?’

She shook her head. The black void that came with the laudanum would rob her of any control. Besides, if she needed to escape quickly from here then she needed to be lucid. She also needed to plan an escape route.

‘Can you tell me where I am...Jack?’

He sat back down on the mattress again, disregarding any of the rules of propriety, and sighed, as if answering questions was a great chore to him. ‘You are in my home. Markham Manor. In deepest, darkest, dankest Nottinghamshire. Retford is the nearest village, almost three miles away, but if it’s a proper town you need, then Lincoln is probably the closest.’ That put her in the north of England. Just. A long way from Gretna Green at least. ‘I found you near the woods a good mile away. Soaking wet and frozen stiff. I reckon you had been out in the storm for a couple of hours before I came along. I have no idea where you sprang from either and since nobody has come to claim you, I think we can assume whoever tied you up was not able to follow your tracks. My brother Jamie has battened down the hatches in your honour, in case they come visiting, and is taking turns with my youngest brother Jacob to keep watch, so you are safe.’

For some inexplicable reason, Letty believed him. She had actually done it! She had escaped Bainbridge and now she was hidden in a house. Her relief must have been obvious because he shot her a dubious look which suggested he did not believe her pathetic claim to have no memory of the event.

‘What day is it?’ The passing of time was her only hope now, yet she had no idea how long she had been here.

‘It is past midnight so it must be Friday.’

Letty risked another tenuous shake of the head. She could not work out how much longer she needed just from that information. ‘The date?’

Intelligent eyes sought hers and she had the uncomfortable feeling that he could see into her very mind and knew she was lying. ‘As I said, it’s past midnight, so I suppose that would make it the fourth.’

‘I see.’

‘Yet you have not enquired as to the month, so I must assume you remember some things. Are you sure you have no memory of what happened?’

Letty looked down towards her hands. This man had been nothing but kind to her so lying to him made her uncomfortable—but there was no guarantee he wouldn’t be tempted by a ransom, so with no other choice she did it anyway.

‘I do not recall the accident at all.’ She would never, ever forget it. Her heart began to knock against her ribs at the falsehood and her palms felt sweaty. What she was claiming did not sound plausible to her own ears.

‘Do you remember any details about your family, Letty, so that I might be able to inform them of your predicament?’

Letty would rather die than admit the truth. If her uncle knew where she was then her life might as well be over. Correction—it likely would be over and pretty sharpish, too, if he and the Earl of Bainbridge’s hideous plan came to fruition in the next few weeks. No matter what, she needed to stay hidden until then. She stared down at her hands again and shook her head. ‘I am afraid I do not... My head feels so dizzy.’

Whilst this was true, she only mentioned it to stop him probing further. Lying was not something that had ever come naturally to her. Her mother and father had always caught her out when she had tried to do it, joking that her guilt was plainly written all over her face. Just in case he could read it in her eyes, Letty hastily closed them with a sigh, but not before she saw scepticism in his own intelligent blue gaze. ‘Perhaps I will feel better with a little more sleep,’ she mumbled, trying her level best to sound exhausted rather than terrified of imminent exposure, and felt him rise from the mattress next to her.

‘Perhaps I should fetch my brother so he can check on you. You have been very ill.’

‘There is no need to wake him at such a late hour. I have already inconvenienced you and your family enough. I shall sleep for another few hours, I think.’

She heard, rather than saw, him hesitate for a few moments as he decided whether or not to grant her request. ‘I will be right here next to you should you need anything,’ he said gruffly, perhaps a touch begrudgingly. Then she heard the rustle of blankets and the sound of him easing his big body back down on to the hard, uncomfortable floor.

Letty was peculiarly grateful that he did not intend to leave her alone in her current state. She felt too vulnerable and his solid presence was strangely reassuring. ‘I am so sorry for being so burdensome,’ she added lamely, hoping to convey to him her appreciation for all that he was doing for her despite the fact she was lying through her teeth. He grunted in response, but offered no soothing words to contradict her nor did he make any attempt to prolong any conversation between them. She heard him punch the pillow into shape and hoist the covers over himself as he settled into a suitably comfortable position to sleep in.

Whilst Jack Warriner lacked the gentlemanly politeness she was accustomed to, Letty could not help but admire his honesty. He did not want her here, she was a huge burden, but he would not turn her away just yet either. She would be safe here, temporarily. It was a small weight off her mind. A day or two of respite in this remote oasis was a blessing to be sure, although she would have preferred not to have been flung from a speeding carriage in order to have achieved it.

On the other hand, neither her uncle nor the odious Earl was likely to take her escape lying down. Now she was out of their clutches, if she managed to make it intact for her twenty-first birthday, both men were now in very precarious positions indeed. She was not entirely sure what the penalty for abduction, forced marriage and then bridal murder was—but she would be extremely surprised if either of them was allowed to live if they were ever sentenced for the crimes. They would move heaven and earth to find her, and to silence her, and they would endeavour to do so well before the fourth of January.

Letty could not afford to rest on her laurels while she recovered. She needed a plan. A proper plan this time, which would keep her safely out of harm’s way until it was too late and she would have full control over her inheritance. She also needed to think of something to tell her clever, reluctant host. Bumbling excuses were not going to work indefinitely on him. But could she really risk telling him the truth? Until she knew more about the situation and the man himself, it would surely be prudent to keep quiet. In the last few days, Letty’s blind trust in mankind had been smashed to smithereens with a pickaxe. Trusting anyone after what she had been through was not going to be particularly easy.

To her side, she heard the steady deep breathing of a man already lost in slumber. Letty had never shared a bedroom with a man before. A few short weeks ago such a scandalous act would have brought ruin to her name. Then she had cared a great deal about her reputation—as if it was all that mattered. Of course, she had not realised her life and liberty were in danger and she had believed she would be free to select the husband of her own choosing from the ranks of willing gentleman who swarmed around her at every social function. Her enormous fortune gave her the pick of the bunch, so there had been no need to be hasty. Years ago, when she was young and foolish, she had even written a list of attributes the lucky candidate must possess. He had to be handsome, witty, titled, an excellent horseman, a connoisseur of the theatre, a patron of the arts, the absolute envy of all her friends and, of course, and most importantly, he had to be hopelessly in love with her.

Whilst she had managed to find suitable gentlemen with nearly all of those qualities, the last one was always the sticking point. After several Seasons her youthful hopes had become quite jaded. So far, she had not found one man who she was wholly convinced loved her, Letty the woman, rather than Violet the Tea Heiress. Her huge fortune, instead of giving her a reassuring sense of comfort, had become a massive weight on her shoulders. Did anyone of her acquaintance actually like her for herself? Or was it merely the piles of pound notes and all the luxury that came with her legendary generosity that drew people to her? She could never tell.

There was one promising candidate who was already close to proposing marriage—the Duke of Wentworth. However, Letty could not quite fathom him out either. Until she did, there was no way she was going to commit to something as permanent as marriage. She was still young; what was the rush? Besides, for a while now she had been distracted with other thoughts. Ideas of actually doing something with her fortune, something that mattered, something which gave her shallow, empty life some purpose. Perhaps create a home for foundlings? Other orphans who were all alone in the world, just as she was, but who did not have the benefit of a fortune to keep them safe, fed and warm. Unfortunately, while she had been lamenting the huge burden of her fortune and what to do with it, and putting off journeying on the path to find her one true love, she had neglected to consider her uncle’s personal ambitions for her money or the fact that she was bound by law to do his bidding until she reached the age of majority.

Which was only one month away now, give or take a few hours.


Chapter Four (#u103cb96e-b780-5940-aa18-165caf4eab51)

Exactly one month left...

Jack eagerly swapped his nursemaid duties with Joe well before dawn. The hard floor had not been conducive to sleeping on for any longer, not that he ever had time to sleep in, but still, even by his standards the hour was early. The mystery woman had been in his care for a few days now. However, last night had been the first time she had been in any state to speak for herself and her cagey responses to the questions he had asked her did not quite ring true. In fairness, the poor girl had been bound and gagged and horrifically abused beforehand, so it was hardly surprising she was reluctant to trust him, but as she was now his responsibility, he reasoned he did have the right to know what sort of trouble he had brought to his own door.

And she was going to be trouble.

He knew that with the same certainty he knew the sun would rise every morning. Trouble had been Jack’s constant companion for a decade; he knew the scent of it too well to ignore.

He wasn’t surprised when he found Jamie already up and dressed in the kitchen. Since his brother’s return from the Peninsula, he apparently did not sleep. And he smiled even less than Jack did. Both states worried him, yet he had no idea how to fix them. Jamie had always been a closed book. Any loose pages he once had were now glued together firmly and no amount of cajoling would pry them free again.

‘I thought I would head to the village and see what I can find out about our guest.’ After cradling the woman in his arms for hours and sleeping alongside her for two nights, much as he did not want to, he already felt responsible for the chit. And strangely protective. Clearly he was going soft in his old age.

Jamie handed him a steaming mug of tea and an assessing stare. ‘Good idea. I’ve been thinking much the same myself. It is fairly safe to assume the girl is in danger, but if you go there asking questions, you could stir up a hornets’ nest.’

‘I am not a fool.’

‘I never said you were; however, you are not known for your subtlety. I’ll come with you and show you how it’s done.’

Without thinking, Jack allowed his gaze to wander to his brother’s wounded leg and regretted it instantly when he saw his face cloud with fury. ‘I am not a blasted cripple, Jack! I can still ride a horse.’

He was in no mood to try to reason with him today. Jack had barely slept properly in three nights so his temper was closer to the surface than usual and he would likely say something which couldn’t be undone. Since Jamie had come home, he was still so angry at the world and convinced he was good for nothing. Any attempts at brotherly concern about him over-extending himself and putting back his recovery would only aggravate him further.

‘I shall saddle the horses then.’

* * *

It was market day in Retford and by the time they arrived the square was already bustling with activity. At his brother’s suggestion, they went directly to the inn in search of breakfast and information. It made sense. If strangers were in the area, they would be staying at the inn. Jack would not have thought of that first, so perhaps having Jamie in tow would prove to be beneficial.

‘Just eat your food and listen. The trick to good recognisance is to appear disinterested. If we hear anything vaguely interesting, leave it to me to do the probing.’

Jack grunted in response, a little put out by his brother’s lack of faith in his abilities. Jamie selected a table in the centre of the dining room and they ordered food, then his brother disappeared to do some quiet digging and left him to his own devices. For want of something useful to do, he scanned the patrons to see if he could see anything suspicious and conceded that perhaps his brother was right. He knew nothing about gathering information subtly. In fact, his relationship with subtlety of any sort could best be described as tenuous. Jack was a doer and acknowledged his usually straightforward methods of getting to the truth might not be what was needed today. Because it was market day, almost every face was new to him—and therefore, by default, instantly suspicious to his untrained eyes. His first instinct was to go and thoroughly question them all, which was exactly what his military-trained brother had feared he would do. ‘You cannot help yourself, Big Brother,’ he had said as they had ridden over, ‘you are too used to being in charge.’ Acknowledging his own character flaws always made Jack wince; having them pointed out correctly by a sibling was galling.

At the bar, Jamie had sidled up to the innkeeper. Being a recently returned war hero from the infamous family who lived near the forest made him of significant interest to the innkeeper. The locals did love to gossip and the Warriners had given them plenty to feast on over the years. Jack watched the man ask his brother question after question with barely contained curiosity and, as usual, Jamie dealt with them with his customary surliness, staring into his drink and never meeting his interrogator’s eyes. To all intents and purposes he appeared exactly like a man who wanted nothing more than to be left alone rather than one on a quest for information. Jack had to admire that talent, even if he was still slightly sulking and did so begrudgingly.

A few minutes later, Jamie limped back to the table and spoke in a voice so low, Jack had to strain his ears to hear it.

‘There are a group of men from London staying here. A pushy lot, by all accounts, who the innkeeper would be glad to see the back of. They have been here since the morning after you found your damsel in distress. Came in soaked to the skin, despite the two fancy carriages they arrived with. The carriages and half the men left the next day, leaving three of them behind. The rooms were all booked under the name Smith. The innkeeper says they’ve been asking questions about a girl. An heiress, by all accounts.’ Jack raised his eyebrows at this news. ‘They are claiming she has been kidnapped and they are searching for her. They haven’t surfaced yet this morning, but he expects them presently on account of it being market day and filled with new people to talk to. So far, each morning they have done the same thing. They ask questions, eat and disappear for the day. He has no idea where they go to—but they come back very frustrated. As if they are in a great hurry to get the job done.’

Jamie shot him a warning glance as their breakfasts were brought over. How he noticed the impending arrival of the food was also impressive, Jack mused, seeing as Jamie was not facing the kitchen and would have needed eyes in the back of his head to have seen anyone behind him. The innkeeper’s wife plonked them down unceremoniously in front of them, her hostility towards not one, but two Warriners so early in the morning written all over her face.

‘Have you paid for these?’

Their father’s legacy still blighted them. The bastard had been dead seven years and still the locals believed a Warriner equalled nothing but bad debt and aggravation. Jamie shot the woman an evil look and was about to put her in her place when Jack intervened. ‘I paid up front, Nelly. As I always do.’ He was trying to build the broken bridges, had been trying for years to mend them, and as much as the slights still wounded he understood them. For centuries the Warriner family had always been a bad lot and it would take a darn sight longer than seven years for the brothers to repair the damage their ancestors had wrought. It was only in the last eighteen months that Jack had been able to lure a few rag-tag tenants back to his land and even they were not originally from around these parts. Nelly sniffed and stalked off.

‘Perhaps they are Letty’s family searching for her? Maybe she was kidnapped.’ Conjuring the image of her terrified and running away from him made Jack feel a strange combination of protectiveness and fury all over again.

Jamie shrugged. ‘Or that is exactly what they want us to think. They could hardly tell people they are the kidnappers and they would like their hostage back now, can they?’ That argument made a lot of sense too. ‘Besides, if they are above board, why the name Smith? It’s too convenient, Jack. My gut tells me it’s not right.’

As Jamie’s guts had saved his soldiering bacon on more than one occasion, Jack decided to go along with them. They ate in virtual silence in order to overhear the tangled conversations around them. In the main, they were all tradesmen here to make some coin. One or two piqued their interest, but nobody mentioned a bound and gagged girl in the woods.

Their food was long finished and they were about to leave when three burly men walked in and scanned the room like hawks seeking prey. Jamie picked up his empty mug and pretended to drink. ‘Here we go. This is them, I reckon.’

The three men instantly split up and began approaching the other patrons jovially, moving from group to group after friendly handshakes were exchanged and ever closer to their table.

‘Remember. Act bored. And keep your mouth shut.’

Jack gave his brother a sarcastic look. ‘I appreciate your confidence in me, Jamie.’

‘Hello, gentlemen—might I trouble you for a few moments?’ The man who pulled up a chair next to them was all politeness. Jamie flicked him a detached look and shrugged. Jack copied.

‘Do you live locally?’

‘What’s it to you?’ Jamie replied suspiciously.

‘Merely a friendly enquiry, sir.’ The man’s diction was crisp, but his appearance belied it. Underneath the fine clothes and the oily smile, he was not from the gentry, Jack was certain of that. He might lack Jamie’s skills as a spy but he knew a wrong ’un when he saw one. This man had fists like hams, for a start, and a nose which had been often broken. The bridge had collapsed beneath his forehead before jutting out at an odd angle, making him appear more like a bare-knuckle fighter from a travelling carnival than a discerning gentleman of taste passing along the Great North Road. A fine, white jagged scar bisected one cheek. Its presence spoke volumes. This man was a close acquaintance of violence.

‘My friends and I are looking for someone. A young lady.’ The man gave them a knowing smile. ‘There’s a reward.’

Jamie stared down into his empty mug as though he was only interested in how soon he could fill it up again. ‘A reward, you say?’ It was quite a masterly performance. Casual disinterest which gave the interloper just enough hope the lure of money might tempt him.

‘Indeed. A handsome one. A hundred pounds to anyone who aids in her safe return.’

Jamie let out a slow, impressed whistle. ‘A hundred pounds—that’s a lot of money. Why so much?’ He glanced casually at Jack, his lips curved in a disbelieving half-smile before he turned back to their visitor. ‘Is she wanted by the Crown?’

‘No. Nothing like that... She has gone missing.’

‘We are on the road to Gretna Green. Hundreds of young girls go missing along this road every single year. If yours doesn’t want to be found...’ Jamie shrugged again, allowing the implication to ferment.

‘Unfortunately, we believe the young lady in question was kidnapped rather than eloped. Her family are extremely keen to have her back. They fear for her safety.’

‘If she’s been kidnapped, why not wait for the ransom demand and simply pay it?’ Jamie was back to being bored again. His amused eyes met Jack’s. ‘We are not the sort of men to take on a gang of kidnappers. Not even for a hundred pounds. We value our own lives too much.’

The man smiled and nodded. ‘I understand, gentlemen—but the lady in question is rather...resourceful. If...she managed to escape their clutches, it might explain why no ransom demands have been made yet.’ It all sounded so reasonable—yet alarm bells were ringing in Jack’s mind. ‘All I would ask is that you keep a watchful eye out for her. She is gently bred, unfamiliar with the area and there are so many places she could get lost here. If you did come across any information as to her whereabouts, her family would be very grateful... And it might prove to be very lucrative for you gentlemen also. Everyone wins, as it were.’

Jack had had enough of playing the mute sidekick. ‘If we did see her, what does she look like?’ He ignored his brother’s warning glare.

‘Very pretty. Blonde hair. Green eyes. Only twenty. She’s quite a striking little thing. A bit prone to fancy though, as so many young women are, and after such an ordeal there’s no telling what sort of state her poor mind will be in...’ The man shook his head as if he were genuinely concerned and it raised the hackles on Jack’s neck further. ‘Her family are hoping to get her back quietly. You understand. The poor girl would be ruined if the world knew what had happened to her. If you see or hear anything, you can find me here at the inn.’

‘And your name is?’

‘Smith. Mr John Smith.’

‘And the girl’s? Is she a Smith too?’

‘No, sir. I merely work for the family. Her name is Violet.’

‘No surname?’

The man smiled again, but it lacked any sincerity. ‘That’s right, sir. The family would prefer not to create a scandal...the young lady would be quite ruined if news of her abduction leaked. Therefore, I am certain you can see now why the family are keen to get her safely returned into their loving arms as swiftly as possible.’

Jamie pierced the stranger with his steely glare. ‘If the reward is one hundred pounds, then I am assuming the family is important. That is a large amount of money for a lady of little consequence. Therefore, it stands to reason they can spare more than a paltry hundred pounds for her safe return, don’t you think?’

The other man stood, his face a frozen mask. ‘May I enquire as to your names, sirs?’ There was suspicion in his cold eyes now as they flicked between them.

Jack stared back, all smug arrogance. ‘Warriner. I am Jack and this is my younger brother Jamie.’

For a second he saw Jamie silently querying the logic behind giving this fellow their real names, then realising it was sensible. If they aroused this man’s suspicions he would likely check on their story and a great many of their neighbours would happily sell the ‘Wild’ Warriners down the river.

‘Well, Mr Warriner, I am sure the family would be open to negotiations. Should you have anything of...interest to them.’

Jack laughed and slapped his brother heartily on the back. ‘I think me and you should go heiress hunting, Jamie. What do you say? What could we do with at least a hundred pounds, aye?’ Never a truer word was spoken although it was a drop in the ocean compared to what he actually needed to stop the rot in their ailing fortunes.

Jack smiled enthusiastically back at the still-loitering man, ignoring the bad taste in his mouth which came from coveting the reward and for hoping the scarred, creepy fellow was, indeed, telling the truth, despite his gut feeling that he wasn’t. The Warriners could do with one hundred pounds. It might be enough to send Joe to medical school for a while and ease his guilt at failing to get his brother there sooner.

Then again, wanting that money already felt disloyal to Letty, although he had no idea where his overriding loyalty to her had come from. Unless it was just the crushing burden of yet more responsibility he did not need. Jack apparently had a soft spot for damsels in distress. ‘Where did you last see her, Mr Smith?’

The man’s expression instantly changed to one of friendliness again, believing he had won them over. ‘We suspect she might have been taken along this section of the Great North Road.’

‘You suspect?’ Jack shook his head at his brother and laughed derisively. ‘So we would not be chasing a fact—merely a suspicion? Only about ten villages and a hundred square miles of Sherwood Forest to search then!’ He stared back at the man with pity. ‘I think my brother and I can find better things to do with our time than searching for a needle in a haystack—but I wish you well with your search. If, by some miracle, we do hear something, rest assured, Mr Smith, you will be the first to know.’ For good measure, he toasted him with his own empty mug.


Chapter Five (#u103cb96e-b780-5940-aa18-165caf4eab51)

Still just one month to go...

Her attentive physician tied the last of her clean bandages, then sat back on the mattress to smile at her. ‘It is indeed a miracle you are this hale and hearty. I was convinced you would die when Jack brought you home, yet now there are just a few sprains and cuts left to heal. You obviously have a strong constitution indeed. A day or two of rest and I dare say you will be as good as new.’

Letty certainly felt better. And cleaner. The youngest Warriner, Jacob, had brought her a bucket of hot water, some soap and towels at her request, so she had managed to rinse the mud and grit from her hair. She was sat up in bed, her belly pleasantly filled with food and dressed in a freshly laundered gentleman’s shirt. She bestowed her healer with one of Violet’s best smiles—the one which had been fêted in society as the most stunning of the Season—and hoped her swollen lip would not spoil its impact. ‘Thank you, Doctor. I am grateful for all you have done.’

‘I am no doctor yet,’ he said a little wistfully, ‘but perhaps one day.’

This surprised her. ‘I was certain you were a proper physician. Your medical knowledge is excellent. Without your help, I do not doubt I would have died. Why do you not get a proper licence to practise medicine?’

He stood and busied himself with tidying away the soiled bandages. ‘I study and read extensively, and I am sure that one day I will qualify. However, it is not just my efforts that saved your life. The majority of your thanks should be directed at my brother Jack. He was the one who brought you home and he has scarcely left your side since your arrival. He was the one who spent the nights tending to your fever and making sure you were kept warm.’

Letty recalled the eldest Warriner had slept on the floor beside her last night. Clearly, he had spent a few nights on that hard floor on her behalf—odd when he had appeared so suspicious and put upon, although, for reasons she could not fathom, his diligence did not surprise her. ‘Then I shall extend my gratitude to him also, Dr Joe, as soon as I see him next.’

He had not been there when she had awoken this morning, which at the time Letty had been relieved about. Jack Warriner saw too much. Whether or not he really was a good man, as both of his younger brothers had suggested, she would have to see. However, neither Jacob nor Joe Warriner had been guarded in their answers this morning when she had bombarded them with a stream of questions. Thanks to them, Letty now knew for certain she was not a prisoner in this house. Jack Warriner had found her on the road and brought her home, and by doing so, had saved her life.

Home was a four-hundred-year-old manor house surrounded by thirty acres of park and farmland. Mostly farmland. The Warriners grew wheat and raised sheep, and hardly moved in the sort of circles Bainbridge and her duplicitous uncle did. Apparently, only the second eldest, Jamie, had been to London and then only once on a fleeting visit, so they would have no idea who she was either.

They all worked on the land, with the exception of Jamie who had only recently arrived back from the war, and was still recovering from the damage Napoleon’s army had done to his body. The three younger brothers also had enormous respect for Jack. It shone out of their eyes whenever he was mentioned in a conversation and they clearly deferred to his leadership on all matters of importance.

The Warriners were fiercely loyal and hugely protective of one another, the sort of tight family bond Letty had never experienced, yet always yearned for. They loved one another. It was plainly obvious and she could not help envying them for that. It must be nice to know there was always somebody there for you, ready to support you or simply to commiserate with when times were tough. To always have someone to turn to. Letty had not had such support since the untimely death of her parents at seventeen. She had ostensibly been all alone in the world—yet nobody had really pitied her because she was the Tea Heiress after all, as if her money could somehow fix her broken heart, or banish her loneliness and make everything bright in the world again.

If something happened to one of the brothers, the others would move heaven and earth to rectify things or would support each other in their grief. She had been missing from Mayfair for days—and sincerely doubted anybody had missed her at all. Not really. Her swathes of friends might comment on her absence at a ball or afternoon tea, but Letty was not convinced any of them genuinely cared enough to investigate the true cause of her absence. She did not possess one true friend, the sort a girl could confide in or depend upon. Nobody had ever assumed she might want one and she had no idea how to go about getting one. And that was a humbling thought, as well as a depressing one. She had more money than she could ever spend in one lifetime, yet she envied the Warriners.

She got the impression life was tough for the family—although such disloyalty had not been vocalised explicitly—and she suspected the main obstacle between Joe qualifying as a doctor, and not, was decidedly financial. That might work in her favour. In her experience, those in need of money were easily bribed and her father had often commented on the benefits of ‘greasing a few palms’. In a few weeks, she could easily fill the palms of all four Warriners with gold and still not make a dent in her reserves.

And then again it might not. If they desperately needed money quickly, they could well sell her back to Bainbridge if the opportunity presented itself. At least Bainbridge could pay them instantly—Letty would have to wait weeks to get her hands on her own money. The appointment was already made with the solicitor on the day of her birthday to sign the papers which would give her her longed-for independence. It was also the day she would consign a generous portion of it to the charitable trust she intended to set up in her name and begin carving out a new life filled with noble purpose rather than pampered inertia. Once that was done, she intended to begin searching for premises right away and nobody would be able to stop her.

Her uncle had always been most dismissive of her desire to put her money to work and had refused to allow her to spend it on anything apart from gowns and fripperies she did not need and had long ago ceased to want. But on that glorious day, in one month’s time, she could do with it whatever she pleased. The Warriners might not want to wait.

The fact that she had not been attended to by the family servants niggled. It was almost as if the brothers were intent on keeping her presence here a great secret. Why would they do that unless it was for sinister purposes? Was it for her protection or was it for theirs? The most pressing problem was that Letty really did not know if this family was to be trusted.

Until she did, it was probably sensible to have an escape route. As soon as Joe left her on a quest to fetch her some tea, Letty eased her legs over the side of the bed. After carefully testing her weight on her bad ankle, she hobbled across the room to the faceted, leadlight window and peered out.

Markham Manor was indeed in deepest, darkest, dankest Nottinghamshire. One side of the estate was fringed with dense woodland. The outer edge of the estate ran directly alongside the River Idle, so unless they came by boat or battled their way through the trees, the only way Bainbridge could enter the grounds was to the east, and via the narrow, rutted dirt lane her rescuer had found her on. A lane whose only destination was here.

In the distance, Letty could just about make out the high wall which she now knew enclosed the Warriners’ land. She also knew the huge gates were now locked because Jacob had moaned about the effort it had taken to do so and the splinters he had received in the process. A little further along, and purposely hidden behind tangled vines, was a smaller gate, a secret escape route which sounded positively medieval and very romantic. The Warriners of old must have needed such a device, as well as a great deal of fortified protection, if they had built such defences, yet those same defences now gave Letty a great deal of peace of mind. She had been here three days and nobody had come a calling. The more time passed, she hoped, the less likely it was they would do so.

Directly below her window was a cobbled courtyard which housed a large iron pump handle and a small mountain of buckets balanced haphazardly on top of each other. Other than that, the courtyard was bare. Her bedchamber must face over the kitchens then, in the rear of the house and well away from prying eyes in the lane. The drop from her window to the courtyard was significant enough to cause injury, she estimated, yet not quite high enough to result in death. There was trellis alongside her window, covered in the gnarled old branches of a wisteria left quite barren by the winter. If she had to, she could lower herself from it carefully and make a dash for the woods.

Satisfied the outside was safe, Letty turned and began to hobble towards her bedchamber door to investigate the layout of the house when the door opened and Jack Warriner strode in.

Then stopped dead.

She was wearing his shirt. That should not have come as a surprise because his brother had dressed her in his shirt when they had transferred her unconscious body to Jack’s bedchamber because the only other one in any habitable state had mould creeping over the damp, cracked walls. Except the sight of her standing there in it was simply staggering. She had legs. Lovely, shapely female legs which were bare to mid-thigh where the tail of the shirt hung. And the most wonderful golden hair Jack had ever seen. A tumble of corkscrew ringlets fell past her shoulders, the short curls around her face framing it like a halo. His words dried in his throat and his eyebrows shot up as he stared at the beautiful creature right in front of him.

Emerald-green eyes stared back at him in surprise before she crouched and her arms covered her thighs. ‘Would you mind turning around, please!’ she squeaked and his wits returned.

‘Yes, of course! Sorry!’ Jack spun on his heels and faced the door, grateful for the opportunity to catch his breath and simply breathe.

There was a woman in his bedchamber.

Because after seeing her legs there was no way he could continue to think of her as a patient. There had not been an actual woman in Markham Manor since his mother had died a decade ago and he could barely remember the last time he had seen a woman’s bare legs. May? Last spring, in Lincoln? Although at the time he had not really taken much notice of the tavern maid’s legs because he had had to travel home before dark and he was more concerned with other parts of the woman. Perhaps he should have, because surely one pair of legs was much like the next? What was it about these particular legs he suddenly found so alluring?

He heard her scramble back towards the bed and the rustle of the covers as she made herself decent. ‘You can turn around now Mr... Jack.’

Somehow, seeing her sitting up in his bed, all tousled and proper, made it worse and he felt the falls of his breeches tighten uncomfortably. She looked as tempting as a baker’s window and, by God, he was desperate to taste her. But he had no time to spare to consider such unexpected yearnings, definitely not for a woman in his care and definitely not when he sensed impending danger.

‘We need to talk... Violet.’

Her lovely eyes widened further in alarm at the use of her proper name and Jack finally knew for certain she had been economical with the truth. However, it was difficult to be annoyed at her for the omission. In her shoes, he’d have probably done much the same.

‘There are men in the village looking for you.’ A look of terror washed across her delicate features which he experienced an enormous desire to soothe. ‘We did not alert them to your presence here. I thought it prudent to talk to you first before I entrusted them with any information.’

She visibly sagged with relief, the motion causing the open neck of the capacious linen shirt to fall to one side, exposing the smooth, pale skin of her delicate, feminine shoulder. Jack’s groin tightened again and to cover it, he sat down heavily on the mattress in front of her. ‘I think it is time you told me the truth. Don’t you?’

Her golden head bobbed in assent, causing the blonde curls nearest her face to bounce. He suppressed the urge to reach up and touch one. Run his fingers along the length of it to see if it actually did feel like spun silk. She worried her bottom lip nervously with her teeth, drawing his hungry eyes there too. Her mouth was pink and plump and ripe for kissing. For some inexplicable reason, Jack was sorely tempted to kiss her. Not that he would, of course. The poor girl was frightened enough already, the last thing she needed was his case of rampant, wholly inappropriate lust.

‘How many men?’

‘Three. The others and their coaches have gone elsewhere to search for you, although I doubt they are too far away either. There are not many villages in this part of the county. They claimed to be working for your family.’

Her expression hardened. ‘In a manner of speaking, they are.’

‘They also claimed you were abducted, although I gather you would rather not be returned to them?’

He watched a flurry of emotions play on her face. Fear, confusion, mistrust, then finally acceptance. She stared back at him levelly. ‘Those men—was one of them an older man? Grey hair tied back in an old-fashioned queue?’

Jack shook his head. ‘No. The man I spoke to called himself Mr Smith. He had a scar across his cheek here.’ He swiped his finger in a jagged line down his own cheek to the jaw in demonstration.

‘Layton. His name is Layton. He works for the Earl of Bainbridge.’ She sat back on the pillows, tucking her knees to her chest and hugging them. It was an unconscious gesture which suggested she needed to protect herself from whatever it was these men had come to achieve. It sparked something visceral inside him. Something primal and male and territorial. It made him want to slay dragons for her—a ridiculous notion which suddenly came out of nowhere and blindsided him. She could be lying through her pretty teeth, yet that made no difference to his urgent need to be her knight in shining armour. What was wrong with him? It wasn’t like him to be so fanciful. Jack did not usually have those sorts of feelings for women. He liked them well enough...but always in a pragmatic and sensible way. He had never been a romantic man—although a part of him was certainly feeling that way if he was thinking of himself as her knight and conjuring imaginary dragons in his obviously addled mind.

It was probably because of the golden hair, he reasoned, he had always had a penchant for blondes. The legs were a bonus, of course, and then there was the fact that she was lying in his bed. Staring a little warily at him with her beautiful green eyes. She regarded him thoughtfully for several moments, then sighed.

‘Letty is my name. It is the name I prefer to be called, at any rate, because my mother used to call me it as a child. However, my full name is Violet Dunston.’ She paused briefly as if he should recognise the name, and when he didn’t she seemed a little surprised, but continued. ‘My parents died in a carriage accident a few years ago and since then I have been under the guardianship of my father’s brother. Whilst I have never been particularly close to my uncle, I had no reason to suspect he wished me ill. He moved into my family house to fulfil his guardianship duties, although apart from that we really had little to do with one another.’

‘A few weeks ago, he introduced me to the Earl of Bainbridge, a man old enough to be my grandfather who apparently had expressed a desire to marry me. Unsurprisingly, I was not thrilled with the proposal and turned him down. He is a completely odious man, who has already outlived two wives and has the reputation for being a dreadful gambler. I was surprised he would even condone such a proposal. However, since then, my uncle has been relentless in his insistence that I marry the vile man—because they were friends, or so I was led to believe. We argued about it a great deal and eventually my uncle ceased pressing the suit. I assumed I had convinced him that Bainbridge was the very last man on earth who I would consider marrying. Unfortunately, I could not have been more wrong.’

Just thinking about her uncle’s treachery made her angry. All this time she had been duped into believing he had only wanted the very best for her...but he had designs on her fortune just like every other man who came knocking on her door. ‘On the night in question, I had only just dressed for a ball and was waiting for the carriage to be brought around when my uncle asked to speak with me. He offered me a glass of wine, which stupidly I drank. It was laced with laudanum. I was barely conscious by the time Bainbridge arrived, but I overheard the gist of their conversation nevertheless. Bainbridge had agreed to give him half of my fortune in return for my hand in marriage—payable as soon as Bainbridge could obtain legal access to my money. It is held in a trust, you see, until I reach the age of majority. They tied me up and I was taken to a carriage bound for Gretna Green.

‘By the time I came to, we were speeding along the road. I told Bainbridge that no court in the land would condone a forced marriage. I threatened to have the pair of them arrested and tried for their crime and that I would move heaven and earth to have the sham of a marriage annulled if he succeeded.’ Her voice wavered then, because Letty still could not quite believe it herself. ‘He laughed, claiming he had no great desire to be shackled to me for any longer than was necessary to get his hands lawfully on my magnificent stack of money and said...’ her voice faltered ‘...he said that if I failed to comply and made his life difficult, then I would force his hand. He said I would find it difficult to get a marriage annulled from the grave.’

Jack Warriner’s dark eyebrows came together fiercely as he absorbed her words. Other than that, she really had no idea what he was thinking. His very handsome face was quite inscrutable.

‘So you were kidnapped, then?’

Letty nodded. ‘Yes—but effectively by a member of my own family. If they find me, Bainbridge will drag me to Gretna Green. As soon as we are married, English law grants him my entire fortune.’

‘And then your uncle would receive his half?’

‘My father left him nothing in his will, aside from naming him as my guardian and giving him some control as trustee of the estate. As soon as I turn twenty-one, control of my entire inheritance reverts to me. The blood money earned by selling his niece to Bainbridge was obviously more palatable to him than living out the rest of his days with nothing.’

He stood and pinned her with his stormy blue gaze, giving nothing about his ultimate intentions away.

‘I need to talk to my brothers.’

Then he stormed to the door.


Chapter Six (#u103cb96e-b780-5940-aa18-165caf4eab51)

Thirty days and twelve hours left...

‘Violet Dunston?’ Jacob exclaimed and then appeared frustrated when all of his three brothers stared back perplexed. ‘Seriously? Do you three never read the newspapers?’

‘I don’t have time to read the newspapers.’ By the time Jack finished his never-ending round of daily chores, he could barely stand, let alone read.

‘Scarcely a week goes by without a mention of society’s darling Miss Dunston. She is the Tea Heiress.’

Jack was losing patience. ‘Spare us the dramatics, Jacob. Surely it is quite apparent none of us knows what you are blathering on about. Kindly put us out of our misery, Little Brother.’

Jacob leaned forward on the scarred kitchen table as if imparting some great wisdom. ‘The Dunston family were serious tea importers and by serious I mean they made oodles of money from it. Or they did, before old man Dunston sold the business for a king’s ransom. I believe he died a few years ago. Violet Dunston is an only child; heiress to it all. Lock, stock and barrel. She is a renowned beauty and now that I’ve seen her I have to concur.’ Watching the twin smiles of male satisfaction appear on Jacob and Joe’s faces caused Jack to experience an unfamiliar pang of jealousy, but he held his tongue. His siblings all had eyes, after all, except the thought of his brothers sharing the magnificent spectacle of Letty’s legs particularly bothered him. He needed to find her more suitable clothing as soon as possible. Something shapeless, large and concealing. Something that would put a stop to his brothers’ wayward gazes. Begrudgingly, he turned his attention back to his youngest brother.

‘The gossip columns are filled with speculation about whom she will choose to marry. It is all anyone can talk about. The gentlemen of London are falling all over themselves to court her.’

Jamie, always the least impressed by anything, was scathing. ‘Hardly a surprise when the girl is obscenely rich. I should imagine, just like her uncle and the Earl of Bainbridge, they would be delighted to get their hands on all of that lovely money. She could have a face like a horse’s behind and they would probably still want to marry her.’

‘True,’ agreed Jacob, ‘but it is not only fortune hunters who are courting her. There are a few wealthy peers too. I read something about the illustrious Duke of Wentworth throwing his hat into the ring, and he is as rich as Croesus and has his pick of the ladies. She’s famously charming—in fact, Miss Dunston is viewed as a diamond of the first water. An incomparable.’

An incomparable! If ever Jack needed proof that his misplaced lust was barking up the wrong tree, there it was. Letty had queues of eager, solvent suitors and would never look twice at a humble Warriner for anything more than necessary protection. She was so far out of his league he would need a stepladder to reach her. Perhaps twenty stepladders. Not that he had hoped for more, of course. Lust was a natural, human response to such a beautiful woman. Even bruised and dishevelled, Letty was a beautiful woman, so his instantaneous and physical reaction was also, therefore, quite understandable. Besides, Jack was too pragmatic, too wise to be disappointed in the ways of the world and too burdened already to even consider something beyond the carnal. These overwhelming feelings of protectiveness towards her obviously stemmed from the unyielding and irritating sense of responsibility he had been cursed with since birth. She was a damsel in distress. Ever since his mother, he had a soft spot for them. He had found Letty stumbling in on the road to his house, therefore, until he could take her safely home to Mayfair, it stood to reason she was also his responsibility, just as his mother had been. Another one. To add to the thousands he already had and didn’t need.

Lucky him.

‘We will need to get her back to her people in London as quickly as possible if her life is in danger. There must be another relative there who can keep her out of harm’s way while this uncle and Bainbridge are brought to justice.’ And out of his sight.

‘It’s too soon to make her travel yet.’ Joe immediately leapt to her defence. ‘Yesterday she was still burning with fever. She needs a few days to properly recuperate.’

‘Nobody is planning on moving her yet. With that Layton and his cronies still at large in the village, a trip now might arouse suspicions. I will not put either her life or any of yours in danger by acting rashly. Once the dust has settled and I deem it to be safe, I will return her.’ Although how Jack was going to pay for an unforeseen trip to London without their finances suffering too much, he had yet to work out. All of the spare money left over from last year’s harvest had already disappeared in new lead for the decrepit roof on the east wing. Every other penny had been accounted for. He supposed they could overnight in one inn on the way there and on the way back he could find a quiet barn somewhere...

‘You will not be making the trip alone. It’s too dangerous. I will be coming with you,’ Jamie announced. Nobody dared point out that Jamie was lame and in no state to endure such a long and demanding ride south. However, he had apparently already considered it himself. ‘I might be useless on my feet, but I can still sit on a horse and shoot straight, should the need arise.’ And nobody commented on the peculiar arsenal their brother now housed in his bedchamber either. Not after Jacob had found out the hard way that the former soldier slept with a knife under his pillow. ‘Do any of you know how to cover your tracks or live off the land?’ He scanned their faces and shrugged smugly. ‘I thought not.’

As always, Jamie made a valid point. Despite his physical limitations, he would be useful to have around. Especially if the Earl of Bainbridge’s men decided to follow them. ‘All right then. It’s settled.’ He pointed at Joe and Jacob. ‘You two can stay here and convince those scoundrels all the Warriners are where they should be, in case they come calling. Layton has nothing to link us to the girl as yet—I would prefer to keep it that way. Jamie and I will escort her back to London.’

‘You most certainly will not!’

Letty had become increasingly anxious waiting for Jack Warriner to return to her room and appraise her of her fate, so she had wrapped herself in a blanket, hobbled down the creaky wooden staircase and followed the sound of male voices. Now, it seemed, she had timed her arrival to perfection. ‘I cannot go to London until the fourth of January!’

Jack stood and glared at her. ‘Your family will know how best to keep you safe.’

‘To the best of my knowledge, my entire family only consists of one treacherous uncle. To return me to him is tantamount to signing my death warrant! I am too well known and there are too many people who would sell me down the river for a reward.’

‘Surely there must be someone else you can go to?’ He was looking at her as if she was clearly stupid and his patronising tone rankled.

‘I believe, sir, I would remember if I possessed any other living relations. Do you think I have mislaid them somewhere?’ Her head had started to spin, but she ignored it. ‘For the time being, I would prefer to hide, just for a few days while I decide what to do next. Perhaps I could remain hidden here?’ Without thinking she cast her eyes around the shabby room and smiled kindly. ‘I can pay you, if it’s money you require.’

The three younger Warriners all exchanged a telling look. Joe winced. Jamie shook his head and Jacob simply closed his eyes.

‘I don’t need your damn money, woman!’ Jack stalked towards her in outrage. ‘We are not paupers, Miss Dunston, and I resent the implication. Whilst you are here, you will remain as our guest and that is that. Taking you safely home as soon as possible is the right thing to do. I find it hard to believe there is nobody in London who is worried as to your whereabouts and would be a more suitable guardian for you than myself. There must be somebody—a cousin, a close friend, perhaps?’

She had to make him understand. ‘The Earl of Bainbridge and my uncle will find a way to silence me if they have any inkling I am alive. I know of their nefarious plan, remember? They will be in fear for their own lives now. Don’t you see? Desperate men like that will resort to desperate measures. Travelling anywhere, even in the dead of night, will put my life in danger.’ The toll of the last few days had made her body weak. Her knees threatened to buckle so Letty locked them to stand proudly in front of this domineering man who thought he knew best. ‘You have witnessed already the lengths they are prepared to go to. Not only will my life be in danger, yours will be too.’

‘Then that settles it. You will remain here for the entire month,’ Jack decreed.

An entire month! Here? ‘Once I am fully recovered I will seek sanctuary with the local authorities of my own accord. I will not be held responsible for putting you and your brothers at risk.’

‘I do not hold the authorities in Nottingham in particularly high esteem. Once they know you have been here, with the Warriner family, I doubt they will act with the necessary diligence your circumstances demand. I believe I am quite capable of protecting you and my brothers against any threat for a month, Miss Dunston.’ Letty went to interrupt and he stayed her with his hand. ‘It is settled. My decision has been made. Until I can return you to London and alert the proper authorities there as to what danger you are in, you are now my responsibility and will abide by my rules.’

‘But you are four men, Mr Warriner! Four men and I am a woman alone.’ Letty had intended to sound reasonable, but the words came out in a screech. She had only thought to stay here for a few days, not several weeks. If she were ever to be discovered here her good reputation would be in tatters.

‘Yet you are safer here than you would be out there!’

A very valid point. She remembered the huge gates and walls. The isolation. Nobody knew she was there. The idea had merit, but she had to be in control. ‘Only on the condition that I recompense you for your services.’ Surely her money would give her the upper hand against this domineering man she hardly knew?

Jack’s thunderous expression said it all. ‘Out of the question.’

Letty shook her head stubbornly, a movement which brought about a wave of dizziness so intense she had to grab the doorframe for support. ‘I will not be in your debt, sir. You have already done so much and I can well afford it.’

The three seated Warriners all stared at their feet in silence. Clearly she had said the wrong thing again, because Jack was looming over her now.

‘I do not require money for doing a good deed, madam. As the master of this house, it is my responsibility to keep you safe, and after what you have told me, I honestly believe the best way to do that is to hide you here. You will not return back to London until I deem it safe to do so. It is decided.’

It took a great deal of pride not to burst into frustrated tears at his dictatorial tone. ‘Decided? Am I to have no say in my own future?’ Such a concept was beyond ridiculous. Letty always got what she wanted. He stared back, his steely blue glare unmoved. ‘I am not a child or a chattel, Mr Warriner. I am perfectly capable of looking after myself. You have no authority over me!’

As parting shots went, she was quite proud of it. His intense blue eyes narrowed as he digested her words and Letty decided now would be the opportune moment to make a well-timed exit. The walls of the room had begun to sway and tilt quite ferociously as she turned smartly to storm back upstairs. Letty took two steps forward, then the floor began to list too. Her grand gesture of defiant independence collapsed the moment her knees did and she found herself crumpling woozily to the floor. Most irritatingly, it was Jack’s strong, capable arms that caught her. He lifted her into them as if she weighed practically nothing, with a distinctly paternalistic, put-upon expression on his face.

‘Joe?’

‘She’s still weak from her ordeal—she shouldn’t be out of bed. No wonder she swooned.’

Jack did not even bother responding to his brother, he merely turned with Letty still in his arms and began to walk briskly towards the staircase. It was disconcerting being held so close by him—yet bizarrely not in a bad way. She felt safe, protected and stupidly impressed by his strength and undeniably manly physique. And he smelled positively sinful. Some sort of spicy, fresh, male smell which Letty wanted to inhale deeply while she burrowed her face into his neck. His overbearing, single-minded, irritating neck. ‘You can put me down. I can manage.’ There would be absolutely no burrowing. Not while he was being so...domineering and non-compliant.

His irritatingly beautiful, blue eyes flicked to hers for a second. ‘We can’t have you swooning now, Letty. Can we?’ The very idea of it seemed to amuse him, which of course, seriously rankled.

‘I am not a woman known for swooning, Mr Warriner. Anybody who knows me will tell you that.’ Not that there was anyone left alive who truly knew her. Her parents had. Everybody else saw what they wanted to see and Letty found it easier to hide behind that convenient façade than allow anyone to see she was lonely and unhappy. ‘Had I not been forced to wander in a freezing forest for hours in the rain, after being bound, gagged and abducted, it would not have happened today.’

He stared ahead, apparently bored. The dark stubble on his chin tempted her fingers to touch it, so she clasped them ineffectually across her middle as he started up the stairs.

‘Are you too proud to let me pay for your services?’

Silence.

Clearly it was time to become the confident Violet Dunston. Whenever she met a brick wall, and Jack Warriner was definitely a big, thick, brick wall, Violet’s charm had never failed to quietly knock it down. Men, especially, were particularly responsive in her experience. She could not spend a month being dictated to by this stubborn man. She would run mad.

Letty unclasped her hands and rested one palm gently over his heart, moistened her lips to give them some gloss and peeked up at him through her lashes in the manner which she knew all men found utterly delightful. ‘Perhaps I could fund your brother’s medical studies, Jack?’ For good measure she blinked a little erratically so he could see just how long and lovely those lashes were and how very upset she was by his insistence on being in charge. ‘Surely you would allow me the pleasure of doing that one, small thing out of gratitude.’ Something which would keep this infuriatingly dictatorial male in check.

He glanced down at her face and she was certain she felt his heartbeat speed up beneath her fingers, but when his jaw hardened and those dark eyebrows came together in a forbidding line, she realised she might have seriously misjudged the situation.

‘You might have my brothers falling all over themselves to do your bidding, Letty, and I am sure you are quite used to getting your own way in practically everything with your fêted beauty and piles of money, but your pouting and flirting will not sway me. You can stay here for as long as I am prepared to be your keeper—and once I decide it is safe to take you back to London, then you will go. In the interim, you will do as you are told, Miss Dunston, because I am master of this house and you would do well to remember it. No amount of pretty eyelash fluttering is going to change my mind.’


Chapter Seven (#u103cb96e-b780-5940-aa18-165caf4eab51)

Twenty-eight days remaining, give or take a few hours...

Letty stared at the trunk full of outdated ladies’ dresses with a sinking heart. The heavy brocades and stiff skirts would take hours and hours to turn into anything vaguely presentable, even with her talent with a needle. She had dispatched Jacob up to the attic to find her something to wear, other than Jack’s shirts, and this was the best he could come up with. With amazing forethought for a man unused to having women in his house, the youngest Warriner had also brought his mother’s old sewing basket down too. Now that she was more herself again, altering these clothes would give her something to do while Joe had confined her to yet another day of bed rest, which frankly she did not need.

‘Thank you, Jacob. I am sure I can make use of these. I have not been allocated a maid yet. Now that I am feeling better, could one be arranged?’

‘A maid? Of your own?’

‘Yes—somebody who is handy with a needle and good with arranging hair. And could you ask your cook to vary the menu a little bit? Whilst the roast meat is always very nice, I find the lack of sauces and the boiled vegetables a little bland.’

Jacob’s face began to split into a wide grin. ‘I have no authority regarding the distribution of staff, Letty, or the menu choices. You should probably ask Jack. He organises all of those things.’ His eyes were twinkling mischievously. ‘However, perhaps he might be more open to such requests if they came from you. You are our guest, after all.’ He looked like he was about to burst out laughing. ‘Aside from that, is there anything else you require?’

‘Some tea would be nice, Jacob. In about half an hour? And I don’t suppose you could bring some cake with it?’

He playfully tugged his forelock. ‘I shall see what I can do, Letty.’

Left alone, the silence of her lonely room began to feel oppressive. Letty was already way beyond bored with staying in bed, certain that it was Jack who was insisting she rest rather than have her under his feet. For the sake of peace, she would comply today, but wild elephants would not keep her in this bedchamber tomorrow.

Her only company came in the shape of either Joe or Jacob Warriner and usually only briefly when they could be spared from other chores. They brought her tea or books or whatever else she requested—but those visits were still few and far between. Thus far, she had not had any dealings with the gruff Jamie and she had only seen fleeting glimpses of the domineering master of the house since he had unceremoniously deposited her back on his bed two days ago, after her failed attempt at getting him to bend to her will.

The fact he had seen straight through the reasons for her flirting was embarrassing. Usually men scurried around Letty to please her, even without her resorting to using her feminine wiles. When she did bestow one coy look or a faint flutter of her eyelashes, even the most hard-nosed gentleman was won over and keen to earn her good favour. She was the Tea Heiress, after all. Judgemental Jack had managed to make her feel like a fool, and what was worse was the fact that she had been the one trying to make him feel off-kilter. Instead, it had been her pulse which had ratcheted up several notches; her kilter that was off.

Being held in that man’s arms had been overwhelming enough. She had felt protected, delicate and, despite his grim demeanour, quite special. Galling when she was so determined to be independent. It almost felt like she’d taken a step back towards the old Letty, the one who wanted to marry a man to feel worthwhile. But touching Jack’s hard, warm chest had been, frankly, beyond heady. Letty had never experienced a reaction to a man quite like that one. She had wanted to curl her arms around his neck instantly and experience how splendid she imagined it would be to be draped fully against him, properly wrapped in those magnificent, ungentlemanly muscled arms. Shamelessly staring up into his fathomless, beautiful blue eyes...





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