A Reckless Match Page 24

  It was love.

  Bloody hell.

  Gryff moved closer, as if to take her in his arms, but she sidestepped, supremely aware that they were in public. Her feelings for him were too new, too raw to deal with now. She couldn’t allow herself the dangerous luxury of his embrace; it would be too easy to get used to it.

  She nodded at his horse instead. “You keep Guinevere and find your brothers. Harriet and I can ride double.”

  He frowned at her sudden coolness. “All right. But I’ll see you soon.”

  She sent him a brief smile.

  “I’ll take the reins,” Harriet said briskly, appearing at her side. “You’re almost dead on your feet.”

  Maddie fell into a sort of daze as they rode back to Newstead Park, lulled into a strange half-waking trance as they plodded along. A gray mist hovered a few feet above the grass like a pale blanket, hazy and insubstantial. Tiny droplets settled on her eyelashes and lent a silvery sheen to Harriet’s hair.

  It was easy to see why the locals believed in fairies and sprites. The moonlight cast everything in shades of black and white, but there was something magical, almost otherworldly about it. Maddie felt as if they were suspended between earth and sky.

  She tried to empty her mind, to let the hush of the ancient landscape soothe her, but her thoughts refused to settle. She was in love with Gryffud Davies. But what did he think of her? I don’t hate you wasn’t the same as I love you.

  He said he’d dreamed of lying with her, but he’d probably dreamed of bedding countless women. He wanted an arrangement, to make love to her again, but it was clear the thought of anything permanent had never crossed his mind.

  Would his interest in her wane, now that his curiosity and his physical appetites had been sated? It was possible. Probable, even.

  For her part, she had the sneaking suspicion that what they’d shared would have a lasting effect on her, just like the lightning. Only instead of scars upon her arm, Gryff Davies would leave an indelible mark upon her heart.

  She was faint with exhaustion by the time Newstead Park came into view, and an unexpected surge of emotion brought more tears to her eyes as she gazed at the familiar outline. The house was in her bones, in every childhood memory; it would have broken her heart if they’d had to sell it.

  The windows were dark; Father and the Aunts had probably gone to bed, blithely unaware of the evening’s drama.

  She accepted Harry’s offered arm and allowed her to guide her through the quiet kitchen and up the back stairs. In her bedroom she stood acquiescent as Harriet stripped her out of her damp undergarments, and all she could think of was that this was the second time today that someone had undressed her.

  Her stomach fluttered at the memory of what she’d done with Gryff, but even that couldn’t compete with the bone-weariness that was overtaking her. Harriet had scarcely put her in a clean nightgown when she fell into her waiting bed and let oblivion claim her.

  Chapter 44

  “Keep digging! Every minute counts.”

  Gryff’s heart swelled with pride as Rhys’s frantic bellow reached him across the sand. The beach was teeming with men, horses, and carts. The few locals he passed nodded at him without recognition—they had no idea who they were looking for, only that there were souls trapped inside. As a community long sustained by coal mining, the need for haste was understood by all. A tunnel collapse or mine explosion was everyone’s worst fear.

  He entered the torchlit cave. A team of six or seven men were hefting rock after rock into a waiting cart with almost superhuman strength. Rhys and Morgan were at the front. Rhys was filthy, sweaty with exertion. Morgan’s head was bandaged, and he had one arm in a sling, but he was using his uninjured arm to move the rubble.

  The final bit of tension in Gryff’s shoulders melted away. Everyone safe and accounted for. He’d prayed for this feeling after every battle: confirmation that none of his men had been lost. Sadly, it had been an all-too-rare occurrence.

  “Tell someone we need ropes and pulleys,” Rhys shouted. “Damn it, we keep going until we find them. Dead or alive.”

  “Glad to hear it,” Gryff said with a chuckle.

  “Gryff!”

  Rhys and Morgan both turned in unison and charged at him. Gryff submitted to their bone-crushing hugs and back slaps with a weary laugh.

  “Bloody hell!” Rhys croaked. “We’d almost given you up for dead. Morgan swore he heard you shouting, but to be honest I didn’t believe him. I thought we’d move all this rock and find nothing but your mangled corpse.”

  Morgan glared at him, then turned back to Gryff. “Where’s the Montgomery girl? Tell me she was with you?”

  “She was. She’s on her way back to Newstead Park as we speak, along with her cousin.”

  Morgan expelled a relieved breath. “Thank Christ for that.”

  “I hear you have cousin Harriet to thank for your rescue,” Gryff couldn’t resist teasing.

  “Rescue! The bloody woman nearly knocked a tooth loose.” Morgan put his hand to his cheek and moved his jawbone left and right, as if trying to click it back into place.

  “You’re alive, though,” Rhys chuckled.

  “And she’s as annoying as ever,” Morgan groused. “I swear, one of these days she and I are going to come to blows.”

  Rhys snorted. “If that’s what you want to call it.” He stepped aside and raised his voice so the other men could hear. “Stop work, lads! Here’s our man, alive and well!”

  A great cheer went up from all assembled, like the sound made by a victorious army after a battle.

  “What about the smuggler, Sadler?” Gryff asked.

  “Already found his body,” Morgan said grimly. “Wasn’t pretty. He’s been taken to the village for burial.”

  Rhys eyed Gryff from head to toe, taking in his filthy shirt, bloodstained breeches, and ruined boots. “God, you look like you’ve gone six rounds with Gentleman Jackson. Let’s get you home and have a drink.”

  Gryff winced as another slap on his back aggravated his bruises. He’d definitely broken a few ribs. And the back of his leg was agony. Now that the adventure was over it felt like every part of him was either bruised or broken. Odd, but he hadn’t noticed any of it when he’d been making love to Maddie.

  In truth, he’d been aware of little else but her from the moment they’d been trapped. Every stumble, every shiver, every sigh. He shook his head, but the image of her lying beneath him was burned onto the back of his eyes, as if he’d looked too long at the sun. He saw her even when he closed his lids.

  The three of them trailed out of the cave, exchanging thanks and hearty handshakes with all those who had come to help. By the time they reached Trellech Court, Gryff was ready to sleep for a week, but he changed into dry clothes and allowed Rhys to drag him into the library.

  Rhys poured three generous brandies from the decanter on the sideboard, handed him a glass, and tapped the rim of his own against it. “Here’s to a miracle deliverance.”

  Morgan claimed his glass and lifted it to join the others. “Cheers.”

  “Cheers,” Gryff echoed. He sent Rhys a teasing glance. “I thought you’d already be calling yourself the next Earl of Powys.”

  His brother looked comically offended. “Not at all! I’m quite happy being the second son, thank you very much. All the fun and none of the responsibility.” He winked. “Some of us don’t need a title to have women falling at our feet.”

  Morgan chuckled. “Amen to that.”

  Gryff drank deeply, savoring the burn as the brandy warmed his insides. The taste reminded him of Maddie, of their kiss at the beach, and he cursed the fact that everything seemed to circle back to her. Bloody hell, was he doomed to think of her every time he took a drink now? He was becoming dangerously obsessed.

  With an effort he dragged his thoughts back to the two men beside him, profoundly grateful that they were in his life. He wished, fleetingly, that Carys could have been there to celebrate with them,
but his sister was still in London, playing merry havoc with the male half of the ton.

  Some people, he knew, barely tolerated their siblings, but the four of them had always cherished a particularly strong bond. He leaned his head against the back of the chair and took another sip of brandy.

  Life was good.

  Chapter 45

  Maddie woke with a stiff, aching body, and her mind in turmoil. What was to be done about Gryff? She would have to see him soon, if only to retrieve her satchel and demand her half of the gold.

  If he was right about its value, then Father could sell the small amount they’d already recovered and settle his most pressing debts. And then he and Gryff would have to come to some sort of agreement on how to start retrieving the rest.

  Father would hate to have business dealings with a Davies, of course—as the proposed canal scheme had proved—but beggars couldn’t be choosers. Near-penury would have to be sufficient motivation for making a deal with the devil.

  The thought of seeing Gryff again brought heat to her cheeks and a knot to her belly, but she knew she was playing with fire. His offer of an affair was beyond tempting, but it would definitely be a mistake. She knew her own heart; she wasn’t someone who could switch her affections from one man to another as easily as a butterfly flitted between flowers.

  Was she prepared to wait, in a limbo of expectation, for him to fall in love with her? For him to be ready to wed? She doubted she had the patience. And what if she did wait for him, and he fell in love with someone else? Her heart couldn’t take that kind of rejection.

  A sigh spilled out of her. Well, she certainly wasn’t the first woman to fall in love with an unsuitable man. She would recover, eventually, just as she’d recovered from the lightning strike. It seemed sensible, however, to limit her exposure to him, to avoid a fatal relapse.

  She would treat him as a friend. Perhaps it was cowardly, but a clean break would be in everyone’s best interest. She would look back on their time together with fond memories, and only a little pang in her heart.

  “Maddie, get up!” Harriet’s soft knock on the bedroom door claimed her attention. “Your father wants us all downstairs.”

  Maddie dressed swiftly and found the whole family in the front parlor. Father waved a sheet of paper at her as she entered.

  “Excellent news!” he boomed. “Tristan’s home! At least, he’s back in England; he sent this from Dover. He’s on his way to London as we speak.”

  Aunt Constance clapped her hands in delight. “Oh, that’s famous! Why don’t we all go to town and be there when he arrives? We can throw a party to welcome him home.”

  Father frowned. “I told you, Connie, the town house is to be sold. We haven’t a penny to waste on parties.” He sank into a chair, pushed his spectacles up onto the top of his head, and massaged his temples. “Perhaps Tris can think of a way to save the estate. Because I’m at my wit’s end.”

  Harriet shot Maddie a conspiratorial glance. “A parcel came for you, Maddie. From Trellech Court.”

  Father’s head snapped back up, and he glared at the small brown-paper-wrapped package on the side table as if it might explode. “What’s a Davies doing sending you parcels?”

  Maddie felt a guilty flush creep up her neck, but she stood and pulled on the string tied around the object. It was too small to be her satchel, but her heart gave an excited thump when she saw her brass tinderbox.

  Harriet leaned forward, desperately trying to peer inside as she pried open the lid, but Maddie took a quick peek and slammed the lid closed again.

  She cleared her throat. “Father, I have something to tell you. Well, all of you, actually.”

  As succinctly as possible, she gave a highly edited version of the events of the previous day.

  Aunt Connie and Aunt Prudence both listened with bated breath, while her father merely interjected with the occasional “Good God, Maddie!”

  Harriet pointed at the tin. “So that’s where you put the gold?”

  “It is.”

  “And … is it still there?”

  All four of them leaned forward as Maddie reopened the lid and tilted it for them to see. A collective gasp filled the room.

  “It certainly is,” Maddie said triumphantly.

  In truth, it hardly looked as if Gryff had removed his half, but it had been so dark in the cave it was possible she was wrong.

  “Father, this is for you.” She offered the tin to her father, who took it with shaking hands. “Do you think there’s enough to get us to London to welcome Tristan home?”

  He expelled an incredulous huff. “I should say so. Dear girl, I’m speechless.” He fumbled in his waistcoat for his handkerchief and blew his nose loudly, then dabbed at his suspiciously bright eyes. “You’ve saved us all.”

  He turned to Harriet. “You too, Harriet. Not that I condone all this gallivanting about the countryside, especially in the company of those dreadful Davies boys, but in this particular case I can see it was unavoidable. You’ve turned up trumps. To London we will go!”

  The Aunts cheered.

  “And just think, that awful Sir Mostyn was involved with the smugglers.” Aunt Connie shook her gray head. “I always knew he was a bad’n. Didn’t I always say so, Pru?”

  “You did,” Aunt Pru agreed placidly. “What a bounder. I’m very glad you didn’t accept him, Madeline.”

  Maddie smiled. “So am I.”

  Aunt Connie bounced in her chair like an excited child. “Oh, I can’t wait to see London again! It’s been an age since we were there. And now we have money again, there’s nothing we can’t do. We’re going to have so much fun!”

  Maddie almost laughed at her father’s aghast expression. Aunt Pru and Aunt Con taking the town by storm was something she didn’t want to miss.

  Chapter 46

  Gryff waited with barely concealed impatience for a note from Maddie. He ached to see her again. Now that he’d learned the taste and feel of her, he was like some kind of opium addict, desperate for his next pipe.

  He’d spent the best part of the morning with his brothers, assisting Captain Bridges in taking statements and depositions from the smugglers, who’d been placed in the tiny three-cell jail on one side of the village square. Now that their leader, Sadler, was dead, most of them were happy to make a full confession in the hope that their cooperation might encourage a judge to look more favorably on their crimes.

  At least three of them had independently corroborated that Sir Mostyn Drake had been instrumental in helping them to avoid the customs men by providing advance warning of patrols. And they also suggested he’d acted as a middleman, storing contraband in outhouses on his estate before arranging to have them transported farther afield, to Bristol, Oxford, and London.

  With such an abundance of evidence, Gryff had taken a great deal of pleasure in informing Drake of the charges leveled against him. The bastard would languish in jail until his case was brought before a magistrate.

  By the time the three of them had ridden back to Trellech Court, Gryff was in a rare state of agitation.

  “Any post come while we were out?” he asked as soon as they stepped in from the stables. A glance at the silver card tray in the hallway confirmed it was empty.

  “I’m afraid not, sir,” Beddow intoned. “Were you expecting something?”

  Gryff frowned. Yes, damn it. He’d expected Maddie to send him a when can I see you again letter. Or at the very least a thank-you note for sending her that tin of gold. Even if she hadn’t noticed that he’d left all of it in there for her, she could have shown some blasted gratitude.

  “No, no,” he muttered. “Not expecting anything.”

  A disturbing thought gripped him. What if she didn’t want to see him again? She’d seemed to enjoy their lovemaking. She had enjoyed it, damn it—she couldn’t have been faking her body’s reactions, the tremors he’d felt when he’d been inside her—but what if he’d frightened her? Had he been too ardent in his attentions? Had h
e scared her?

  Dear God, what if he’d put her off sex for life?

  No, he was being ridiculous. Perhaps she’d just been too busy this morning to write.

  Perhaps she was embarrassed.

  Perhaps she doesn’t like you as much as you like her, a little voice whispered in his ear.

  Perhaps she was just using you to relieve her of her virginity.

  Perhaps now you’ve shown her how good it can be, and how to avoid getting pregnant, she’ll realize she can do that with any man she fancies …

  Gryff ran a hand over his face as his stomach curled unpleasantly. The thought of Maddie with any other man made his blood boil.

  Damn it, they weren’t finished! He wanted to make love to her again, in daylight, just as he’d promised, with a limitless supply of contraception and a bed large enough to sleep six. He wanted to explore every inch of her. To fall asleep with her in his arms and wake with her still there. He wanted to see her rosy with sleep, pink-cheeked and drowsy after he’d pleasured her to the brink of exhaustion. He—

  “Is there a particular reason you’re just standing in the middle of the hallway staring into space?” Rhys demanded.

  Gryff blinked and felt an embarrassed flush rise on his cheeks. He cleared his throat and cupped his hands over his crotch to conceal the semi-rigid evidence of his thoughts.

  “No, no. Just woolgathering.”

  Morgan sent him a sardonic look. He was about to say something when the sound of hooves interrupted him, and they all glanced toward the open door. A courier clattered to a stop in the stable yard.

  “Letter for Lord Powys.”

  Gryff’s heart started to beat in double time. He strode forward and held out his hand for the folded missive. It was sealed with the Montgomery crest—three fleurs-de-lis on a shield topped with a plumed helmet—and he breathed a silent sigh of relief.