Passion for the Game(16)
Author: Sylvia Day

When she reached the wooden fence that separated her from freedom, Amelia paused and for the first time considered what it would be like to flee. She’d never entertained the thought before, but now her thinking was altered by Maria’s attempt to retrieve her. What was out there? What adventures waited beyond her minute existence that consisted of servants and a governess and a life on the road?

“Ah, the pretty lass strays.”

Startled by the coarse masculine voice behind her, Amelia spun too quickly and nearly fel over.

“Heavens,” she cried breathlessly, her hand placed over her racing heart. She recognized the freckled young man who stood a few feet away as one of her father’s new lackeys. The ones he had hired to replace those lost in the altercation with Maria. “You gave me a fright.”

“Sorry,” he offered, smiling apologetical y. Short and sinewy, the brown-haired boy was the youngest of the crew whose livelihood it was to keep her safe. Of course, she was beginning to suspect that they were supposed to keep her in, rather than keep others out.

She noted the long pole in his hand. “What are you doing?”

“Going fishing.” He gestured to the other side of the fence with a jerk of his chin. “There’s a stream over there.”

“Oh.” She didn’t mean to sound disappointed.

“Do you like fishing?” he asked, studying her curiously with pale blue eyes. Dressed in woolen breeches and coat, his overly long locks sticking out from beneath his cap, he didn’t look dressed for fishing, but what did she know?

“I’ve no idea,” she admitted. “I have never been fishing.”

He grinned, looking so boyish that she suspected he was the same age she was, maybe even younger. “Would you like to try it?” he offered. “I wouldn’t mind the company.”

Amelia frowned, curious but wary.

“The fish might bite, but I won’t,” he teased.

She chewed her lower lip.

“Come on, before Dickie comes around this way and keeps you from leaving.” He walked past her and hopped over the low fence. Then he held his hand out to her. “It’s not far. If you don’t like it, we can come right back.”

Knowing she probably shouldn’t go, Amelia went anyway, enjoying the rush of excitement she felt at doing something so completely out of the ordinary, something new and different.

“What is your name?” she asked, as he helped her over.

“Benedict. But everyone call s me Benny.”

“Hi, Benny.” She smiled shyly. “I’m Amelia.”

He released her, then tipped his hat in a grand bow before col ecting his pole from where he’d set it aside to assist her. They walked without speaking for a few moments, moving through the thick grouping of trees until the sound of rushing water could be heard.

“How is it that you came to work for Lord Welton?” she queried, studying him with a sidelong glance.

He shrugged. “I heard there was work to be had and I showed my face at the spot I was told to.”

“What kind of living is this?” she wondered. “What skil s will you gain? What will you do when you are no longer needed?”

He smiled, his eyes sparkling from within the shadow cast by the brim of his hat. “I’m earning my way down to London, you see. By the time I make it, I’l have experience. Then I plan to work for St. John.”

“Who is that? What does he do?”

Benny stumbled to a halt, gaping at her. He blinked and then whistled low. “Yer green as grass,” he murmured, shaking his head, then he continued on.

“What does that mean?” she griped, stumbling after him.

“Never mind.”

They emerged from the coppice and approached a small but rapidly moving stream. The bed was rocky and the water shal ow, a lovely place that carried the feeling of innocence, as if the area was rarely breached by anyone. Amelia plopped onto a fall en log and began to untie her boots, impatiently pushing her waist-length hair back over her shoulder. Benny moved to the shore and shrugged out of his coat. While he settled himself comfortably, she shucked her stockings. Then, lifting her skirts, she moved to the water and stepped careful y into it. Her breath caught as the water chil ed her feet.

“Yer scaring off all the fish!” Benny complained.

“Oh, this is wonderful!” she cried, fil ed with memories of hunting tadpoles and sloshing through mud with Colin. “Thank you!”

Benny frowned at her. “For what?”

“For bringing me here. For talking to me.” Laughing, she spun about, then cried out in surprise as she slipped on a smooth river rock and tumbled.

Gal ant Benny leapt to his feet and tried to catch her, only to land flat on his back, half in and out of the water, with her atop him.

Unable to help it, Amelia laughed out loud, and once she started, she couldn’t seem to stop.

“My sire always said the Quality was daft,” he muttered.

Amelia was in the process of pushing herself up when scuffed boots came into view and she was ignobly hauled up by the scruff of her flowered gown.

“What in bloody hel are you doing?” Colin growled, glaring down at her.

Her laughter choked into silence, her eyes wide at the vision before her. Colin was dark haired, dark skinned, and dark eyed with a big-boned build that made her mouth dry. Gypsy blood, her last governess had said.

When had he grown so tal ? He towered over her, his hair fall ing over his brow as he stared down at her so intensely she squirmed. There was nothing boyish about him, not with that chiseled jaw and knowing eyes. What had happened to the friend she had once loved?

Sadly, she realized he was gone forever.

Her head fel forward in an effort to hide her grief over the loss. “I was enjoying myself,” she said softly.

A long moment passed when she could feel his gaze boring into the crown of her head. Then a low, agitated sound rumbled in his throat.

“Stay away from her,” he bit out to Benny, who had pushed up to a seated position at their feet.

Colin grabbed her elbow and pulled her away, catching up her boots and stockings as he passed them.

“Stop it.” Amelia struggled, her feet crunching on dead leaves. Without missing a beat, he tossed her over his shoulder and strode into the trees like a conquering warrior.

“Put me down!” she cried, mortified, the cascade of her hair pouring over her face to nearly drag along the forest floor.

But he ignored her, carrying her into a tiny clearing before he set her down and dropped her belongings.

She swal owed hard and lifted her chin. “I am not a child! I can make my own decisions.”

His gaze narrowed and he crossed his arms, revealing the powerful muscles he built with hard labor. Dressed in breeches and sweater, he looked rough and ready for anything. His appearance intensified the strange feelings she’d begun having for him, flutters that started in her lower bel y and radiated outward.

“I suggest one of those decisions involve wearing your hair up,” he said coldly. “You are too old to wear it down any longer.”

“I will do what I please.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked. “Not when what pleases you is cavorting with the likes of him.” He gestured behind him.

She gave a harsh, derisive little laugh. “Who do you think you are to order me about? You are a servant. My father is a peer of the realm.”

He inhaled harshly. “You don’t have to remind me. Put your shoes on.”

“No.” Crossing her arms beneath her recently acquired br**sts, she arched a brow and hoped she looked haughty.

“Don’t push me, Amelia.” His gaze dropped, and he made an edgy sound. “Put your damn shoes on.”

“Oh, go away!” she cried, tossing up her hands, thoroughly sick of the new Colin and slowly giving up hope for the old one. “What are you doing out here? I was having fun for the first time in ages, and you had to come along and ruin it.”

“You were gone longer than usual,” he accused gruffly. “Someone had to fetch you and keep you out of mischief.”

“How would you know how long I was gone? The only time you notice me is when you’re surly and wish to vent on someone.” She tried to tap her foot, but the gesture lost impact when done with bare feet. “And I hardly call making friends an undesirable activity.”

“You don’t wish to befriend those of his ilk.”

“I wish to befriend someone! I have no one since you grew to hate me.”

The line of Colin’s lips tightened, then he ran both hands through his thick hair and groaned. She was jealous of his hands, wanting to feel those glossy strands slipping through her own fingers.

“Stay away from the men,” he ordered, in a tone that brooked no argument. She was preparing to argue anyway when he walked right past her and headed toward the manse.

Amelia stuck her tongue out at his broad back and struggled with the ache in her chest. He talked to no one else like he did to her, so curt and nasty. It hurt, and it fueled her dreams of running away and leaving him behind.

As she sank to the ground and retrieved her stockings, she lamented her existence. But soon she would go to London for her presentation to the court. Then she would wed and forget about Colin.

Her jaw tightened. “I will forget about you, Colin Mitchel . I will .”

Chapter 11

When Maria woke, Christopher was gone. She lay there a moment, staring up at the canopy, attempting to make sense of their mutable association. He was waiting. Waiting for her to admit some connection to the agency that he could use. She had no notion if her admission of love for Dayton would alter his thinking. Of course, she had loved her first spouse like a favored uncle and he had looked fondly upon her as one would a favorite niece, but she thought it best to mislead the pirate on that point.

Why? she’d asked simply when the Earl of Dayton had paid Welton a small fortune to have her.

My Mathilda is gone, he answered just as simply, his kind eyes fil ed with pain. I have since found little to live for. Assisting you will give me a purpose.

They wed and retired to the country, where he used his considerable knowledge of subterfuge and combat skil s to train her. Most days they were up at dawn, and the sunlit hours were occupied in physical pursuits such as fencing and marksmanship. The evening hours were spent discussing topics such as cryptology and ways to hire men of dubious skil sets. There was nothing he left to chance, knowing she would do whatever was necessary to reclaim Amelia.

“How are you feeling this morn?” Simon asked as he stepped into her room. He was dressed for riding, in breeches and polished Hessians. His windswept hair and the scent of horseflesh told her that he was returning, rather than leaving. “Did you sleep well ?”

She considered that question a moment, pushing fond memories of Dayton aside. “I did,” she noted with some wonder. Last night was the first occasion since seeing Amelia that she had managed to sleep without bad dreams. It was due to Christopher, she knew. The man was prepared for anything, and that made her feel safe. Odd, considering how dangerous he was.

“I went to Bernadette’s last night and spoke with Daphne.” He helped her sit up and arranged her on the pil ows. “It appears we’ve had a stroke of luck. He had a favorite, a new girl named Beth. Apparently, she had a disliking for some of his carnal proclivities, so he has begun to spend more time with Daphne, whose tastes are more diverse.”

Maria smiled. “I am in need of good luck.”

“Truer words were never spoken.” He studied her careful y. “You look different this morning.”

“Better, I hope.”

“Much.” His smile was breathtaking. “I will order tea and breakfast for you.”

“Thank you, Simon.” She watched him as he walked away. “Eddington will come to call today,” she call ed after him.

“I haven’t forgotten,” he tossed over his shoulder.

Alone again, she considered her predicament. There had to be a way to delay all of them—Christopher, Welton, and Eddington. Her brain was still sleep fuzzy, but given the proper amount of time and clear thought, she knew there had to be a way to position the three men to assist her. They all had something she wanted, and if she was clever, she could see her ends met.

With this in mind, Maria spent the morning lost in thought, absentmindedly completing the steps required to prepare herself for Eddington’s visit.

She dressed careful y in a creamcolored day gown and settled a fichu over her shoulders to disguise her bandages. By the time the earl was announced, she had settled upon a temporary plan. She felt confident enough in her idea to have him shown into her lower parlor rather than her study, where she usual y conducted business.

“Good morning to you, my lord,” she said with exaggerated civility.

“My lady.” He bowed. Dressed in fawn-colored breeches and a dark green jacket, he cut quite a dashing figure. Every inch the lauded rakehel , he winked at her before settling in the pale blue settee on the other side of the low table.

“Tea?” she inquired.

“Yes, thank you.”

She was deliberately casual and unaffected in her preparation of the beverage, her hands moving with deliberate gracefulness. Twice she glanced aside at him with a secretive smile. The returning indulgent curve to his lips told her he knew her game, but stil wished to play.

“You are a vision this morning,” he murmured as he accepted the cup and saucer from her.

“I know.”

Eddington laughed, his handsome features softening from their usual predatory alertness. He hid it well with his heavy-lidded gaze, but she knew his kind.

“A joy to meet a woman without artifice,” he said.

“I took pains to appeal to you, my lord. I would not live up to my reputation if I failed to know when I was most attractive.”

“Do you wish to bed me, then?” Both brows raised. “Insatiability is also something I admire.”