“I am not…” Foxworth placed one of his hands over her mouth. She bit his finger, but somehow he kept it in place. She considered biting again, but this time harder. He glanced at her, and she held back. That look sent a little shiver down her spine and scared her. His brows were pushed together and his eyes were cold nearly emotionless, but that wasn’t quite right. They were like green fire. The marquess was angry. Good. So was she, and when she got him alone, she’d show him exactly how much.
“Please forgive my lady’s sour demeanor. She’s had quite the evening. Ruffians attacked her on her way to join me.” He lied smoothly. Probably because he sprinkled a tiny bit of truth in it to make it sound good. “If you’ll pardon us, we are going to retire for the evening.” He slipped his arm around her waist and nearly dragged her away from the innkeeper. He didn’t drop his hand until they were past him. He hissed one word in her ear, “Quiet.”
He led her to a staircase and then to the room he’d secured for himself. Foxworth opened the door and shoved her inside. She stumbled a little bit but remained upright. “Was that necessary?”
Foxworth lifted a brow mockingly. “After that stunt you pulled in front of the innkeeper, I’d say that was mild.” He shook his hand as if trying to ease the pain.
She grinned wickedly. “Would you like me to kiss it and make it better?”
He narrowed his gaze and shook his head slowly. “Do you take me for an imbecile?” His tone was filled with bafflement.
“Do you expect me to answer that truthfully?” she asked sardonically.
“With you, I never know what to expect,” he replied dryly. “You’re an enigma I don’t particularly wish to solve.”
That hurt a little bit. It shouldn’t, but for some reason this gentleman’s words had always hit hard. “That’s all right. I don’t expect difficult puzzles would be easy for someone like you to decipher.”
He rocked back on his heels and studied her. His lips tilted upward into a sly smile. Chris didn’t trust that smile. He was planning something, and she would have to stop it before it came to fruition. “Love,” he drawled. “You’re not that difficult, at least not in that sense. Don’t give yourself too much credit.” He crossed over to her and trailed a finger over her cheek. “Anyone that looks at you can tell what you are…trouble.” He flicked a loose blonde curl. “And desperate… What I don’t wish to interpret is your incessant need to run wild. After I deliver you to Graystone, I’m washing my hands of you.”
Chris drew in a sharp breath. How dare he speak like that about her. “I thought I told you not to call me love ever again.” It was childish, but all she could think to say.
Foxworth chuckled softly. “Out of everything I said, that is what you object to.” He shrugged. “Would you prefer I call you a hellion? It is what you are, after all.”
“As long as you do not refer to me as your fiancée or wife again, I don’t care.” She squared her shoulders. “And no terms of endearment. I’m nothing to you.”
“I couldn’t have put it better.” He glared at her. “You wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t gotten yourself in trouble again.” Foxworth started to pace. “And trust me, I object to the idea of you being my wife or fiancée too. What else was I supposed to say? The very fact you’re in this room alone with me means you’re ruined.” He gestured to the room. It wasn’t much. There was a bed that didn’t look as if two people could sleep in it unless they laid on top of each other. A small table and two wooden chairs that seemed like they might be too hard to sit on. “If anyone, and I mean anyone, discovers we were here together, we’ll have no choice, and God help us if we’re forced to say vows to tie us together forever.”
She froze. Chris knew he was right, and for the first time, fear pierced her heart. She’d been a little scared earlier, but marrying him? No, she couldn’t do it. “The innkeeper saw us,” she whispered. “Doesn’t he qualify as anyone?”
He stopped pacing and met her gaze. “He won’t say anything unless someone asks him.” Foxworth ran his fingers through his golden locks. “Pray no one asks.”
That was ominous… “And if someone does,” she insisted. She snapped her fingers. “What are you going to do about the two imbeciles that tried to abduct me? They saw us together? Should we track them down and make sure they stay silent?” She couldn’t marry him. It would be disastrous. If she did… Chris swallowed the lump in her throat. She wouldn’t think of that. Chris shoved her tender feelings down deep and stood straight. “What will you do if they start telling the whole world about our little midnight tryst?”
“I’ll do the honorable thing, of course.” He muttered something under his breath she didn’t quite make out. “Bloody hell… I need a drink.” He turned to her. “Don’t worry. It will be fine. I’ll ensure it.” He had a frantic look about him. One Chris sympathized with because it was the same feeling rolling through her as well. “I need to dress this wound on my shoulder. Do you think you can help me with that?”
“If you get what we need, I’ll do what I can.” Chris glanced around the room and frowned. A fire had been lit in the hearth, giving a little light to the room. She was bone tired and desperately needed a bath. Something she feared she would not get any time soon. But he was correct. It was important that they dress his wound to help slow the bleeding. If he died because she’d been trying to prove something to him, it would be awful. Chris would not be able to live with that on her conscience. There was one other question she needed him to answer though. “Where are you going to sleep?” Did he expect them to share the bed?”
He flinched at her question. “Don’t be ridiculous.” Was she that unappealing to him? “I’ll make a pallet on the floor with one of the blankets.” He sighed. “I’ll be back. I’m going to go talk to a servant to have some water brought up and some extra blankets.”
Foxworth didn’t give her a chance to reply. He left the room as fast as he could and didn’t once stop to look back at her. Chris went to the bed and sat down. This night hadn’t gone at all like she had planned. Never would she have thought she’d end up in an inn with the Marquess of Foxworth. Someone or something out there truly hated her. She laid down on the bed and stretched out, might as well get comfortable while she waited. Chris told herself she’d close her eyes for a second, but exhaustion won the battle.
Sutton cursed as he went down the stairs. He was running away like a frightened schoolboy. He didn’t know what it was about Lady Christiana Neverhartt that always put him on edge. She baited him with each word she uttered, and he fell for it every single time. He had to deliver her to Graystone as fast as possible. Unfortunately, the duke’s estate was at least a sennight ride’s away, and that was on a horse with a few breaks in-between. Lady Christiana would need a carriage and more stops. He couldn’t put both of them on top his stallion for the journey. Not only would it tax his horse, but it wouldn’t be comfortable for either of them.
He wished he could drop her off at the school. With Tior interested in her, he couldn’t do that. She wouldn’t be safe there. He would have to see this task through no matter how distasteful he found it. Part of the problem was that it was starting to become…tempting. The more they bickered, the more he considered kissing her to quiet her incessant prattle. Her vernacular was a mix of sarcasm and wry wit. Something he was starting to appreciate, but he’d never admit that to her. If he knew Lady Christiana, and he believed he did, she’d use that fact against him.
Sutton turned the corner and went toward the common room of the inn. A servant would most likely be there serving any patrons or guests there. It was still loud, and many people were bustling in and out the inn. He searched the room and found a serving girl carrying two large tankards of ale to a nearby table. She had fiery red hair and a lush bosom. If he didn’t already have a cantankerous female in his room, Sutton might be tempted to lure her upstairs. He shook that thought away and started toward her, then froze when he heard a voice he recognized. “Aren’t ye a fine wee lass,” Tior said to the serving wench as he wrapped an arm around her luscious figure. “Would ye be interested in spending the evening with me.”
Sutton groaned. Of course Tior was there. He would have to be close by if he’d sent some of his men after Lady Christiana. They were not safe there. He had to sneak her out of the inn and fast. He didn’t have time to see to his wound.
“Aye,” the lass told him. The serving girl ran her fingers through Tior’s tawny hair and smiled. “But I’m afraid I canna. I must work.” She wiggled out of his arms. “Perhaps another time.”
“Perhaps,” Tior said and then grinned. “But I fear ye may not get one as I have a bit of business to see to before I return home.” He gazed at her ample bosom and sighed. “A pity.” He tossed her a coin. “Bring another round; this one won’t last long.”
Sutton had to discover why Tior wanted Lady Christiana. It couldn’t be for anything good, but either way, he had to know. He could confront him, but he wasn’t in any condition to challenge Tior. He was weary and hurt all over. His shoulder was smarting something fierce. Perhaps he should still see to washing it before they left. There was a small chance Tior had rooms in the inn and would be retiring soon. He could gather Lady Christiana and sneak out once he did.
The serving wench brought more ale to Tior’s table. A couple of men approached Tior. They came in from the other side of the common room. An entrance Sutton hadn’t realized existed. He kept out of view by standing in the hall near the entrance to the common room, and sneaked glances to watch their movements. It was the two men who had tried to take Lady Christiana earlier. He inhaled deep. The older one leaned down and whispered something in Tior’s ear. The earl frowned and smacked the table. “Ye two are incompetent. Did ye see where he took her?”
“No, laird,” the older one said with a shameful tone. “He claimed she was his fiancée.”
“Is that so,” Tior’s brogue thickened as he spoke. “That’s an interesting bit of news. It’ll make it even more satisfying when I make her mine.”
Everything in Sutton went cold. Tior wanted her because he believed Sutton did. That was why he planned on abducting her. All of this was Sutton’s fault because he’d made a point to take an interest in Lady Christiana’s schooling. He had wanted to teach her a lesson, and instead, Sutton was being reminded of one he had learned a long time ago—the Earl of Tior wasn’t to be trusted, and he had a long memory. He had vowed to make Sutton pay for his misdeeds one day.
Sutton hadn’t believed Tior then, but he did now. He couldn’t allow Lady Christiana to pay for something he’d done. Sutton headed back to their room to retrieve her. She wouldn’t like it, but they had to leave. He didn’t doubt for one second that Tior knew he’d take a room at the inn. He was waiting for him to return, and for some reason hadn’t realized he had. Was the innkeeper protecting him? Sutton couldn’t rely on that.
He rushed in the room and discovered Lady Christiana asleep on the bed. He blew out a breath and went to wake her. She came awake on a scream, one he silenced with a kiss. It was the only way. At least, that was what he told himself… Introspection wasn’t one of Sutton’s strong suits, and he decided to rely on what had worked for him in the past. He wanted to kiss her, and she gave him the perfect opportunity to do so. Why waste it?