LITMIR.BIZ

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her, pushing between her legs, creating hot surges of sweet agony.

      ‘A promise you will keep, my lord.’

      Ah, no. Martin. Face scalding, she slipped under the loop of the Marquess’s arms and rose to her feet, breathing hard. What had she been thinking?

      Martin cocked his rifle with a loud threatening click and the Marquess struggled to a sitting position.

      Bewilderingly, her mind seemed to be full of molasses, thick and syrupy and deadly. He’d comforted her and she’d dissolved like butter in hot milk. Mute with embarrassment, she stared at Martin weighed down by a necklace of iron chain and shackles. He levelled his rifle.

      The Marquess stiffened, as if bracing for…Oh God. Martin was going to fire. ‘Put the gun down,’ she yelled. ‘He is unarmed and bound. No harm was done.’

      Martin held her stare for a long moment, then grimaced. He let the rifle fall to his side, but his body remained stiff, his movements jerky as he set the rifle against the fence. He pulled the Marquess to his feet. ‘Back to the barn for yer lordship.’

      ‘Take your hands off me,’ the Marquess said, steadying himself on his feet, his face as flushed as hers felt.

      Was he ashamed of their kiss? And why did it matter? Once this was over, she’d never see him again. A pain she couldn’t fathom filled her heart. Oh, God, what was wrong with her? Kissing him like a wanton, all the while knowing Martin would return at any moment. She had lost her mind.

      He’d been so kind about the spider, not laughing the way her brothers always had at her stupid female fear, that she’d forgotten they were enemies. And now Martin looked ready to commit murder. Something she would not allow. She picked up the Marquess’s clothes and the rest of the food and followed them into the cool depths of the barn.

      Martin fixed the iron chain to the ring in the wall and fastened the shackle to the Marquess’s ankle before cutting the ropes free.

      ‘That’ll hold you,’ Martin said.

      The Marquess glanced up from inspecting his chain. ‘Your accommodations leave much to be desired.’ The lazy drawl seemed at odds with the revulsion she glimpsed in his eyes. ‘Why not shoot me and have done? I’ll be damned if you’ll get any money.’

      Bravado, she thought. And yet…

      ‘We’ll see,’ Martin said, stepping back.

      ‘Leave me alive and I’ll hunt you down like dogs,’ the Marquess said, in matter-of-fact tones.

      He meant it. Was he taunting Martin deliberately so he’d shoot? Did he hate those chains so much? Bile rose in her throat, a sour taste of guilt. Her heart sank. She couldn’t see it through. She could not keep him chained here day after day, thinking they were going to kill him and watching his hatred grow.

      She gazed down at him. He winked. More bravado.

      Martin growled a curse.

      In her heart she knew the Marquess would try again to charm her into setting him free. And she wasn’t sure how long she could resist, unless she kept away from him completely. It would be best if she left him to Martin. Best for her. Not for him, given Martin’s present mood.

      Coward.

      And what if his uncle wouldn’t pay the ransom? What would they do then? Not only would they not have the money they needed, they’d have the Marquess bent on revenge. If only she had something he wanted in exchange for the mortgage.

      There was one thing he seemed to want. Her. And that was out of the question. Wasn’t it? Was it really too high a price to pay for what she’d done?

      She inhaled a deep breath. ‘Bring ’is horse inside,’ she said to Martin. ‘We needs to talk.’

      They did very little talking on the way back to her cottage after leaving their horses at Martin’s cousin’s farm. Anger surrounded Martin like a wall Eleanor could almost touch; while she regretted causing him upset, his grim silence left her free to mull over her options.

      The Marquess did like her. He kissed her when she was Ellie. And he kissed her when she was Lady Moonlight. And instead of kissing her, he could easily have overpowered her before Martin came back. He’d been too busy kissing her to save his own neck, the rake, and she’d thanked him by chaining him to a wall. She winced.

      But if she took this step, she’d be well and truly ruined. Wasn’t she already far beyond the pale of what was acceptable? A thief, and, if this afternoon was anything to go by, a wanton. Her stomach gave a horrid little lurch, the kind that stops your breath at the knowledge of the inevitable. It didn’t matter. She was the one who’d created the mess, she should be the one to pay the price. Not the Marquess. Certainly not Sissy and William. And definitely not Martin. It also would not lead to prison.

      But she’d have to get Martin out of the way.

      Once inside the cottage, Martin put his hands on his hips and glowered. She braced herself for a lecture. She was actually surprised he’d lasted this long before taking her to task.

      ‘What is it you want to say, Martin?’

      ‘I’d like to know what you thought you were doing with that lordling. Don’t you understand? He could…’ He took a breath. ‘You don’t know what these men of the world are like.’

      A flash of heat scalded her cheeks. Martin thought of her as an innocent, but what had happened out at the barn wasn’t all one-sided by any means. Where the Marquess was concerned, it seemed she didn’t have an iota of control.

      ‘It wasn’t what you think,’ she muttered. ‘There was a spider.’ Martin knew how she hated the horrid crawly things.

      ‘Well, if you hadn’t been rolling around the grass you wouldn’t have seen a spider. I know what I saw, and he had his hands on you.’

      And she hadn’t resisted. Not for a minute. Shame flooded through her at the look of disgust in his eyes, even though she knew he was trying to hide it.

      ‘Give up this nonsense, my lady,’ he pleaded. ‘Before you end up on the gallows, or worse.’

      Unfortunately, worse seemed to be the only alternative. She avoided his gaze, fearing he would sense something amiss. ‘You are right. This is not going to work.’

      Martin let go a long breath. ‘Thank God. I’ll go and set him free.’

      ‘No. I’ll do that first thing in the morning.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I need you to take a message to William. Right away. Then go to Lady Sissy and wait.’

      ‘You will be there when I get back?’

      ‘No.’

      He looked startled, then worried. He opened his mouth to argue.

      She forestalled him. ‘It is all in the note to William. I’m going to Scotland to visit Molly MacDonald—you know she’s been begging to see me for weeks. I can’t risk the Marquess discovering my whereabouts.’

      The worry on his face didn’t ease. ‘I suppose you’re right.’

      ‘I know I am.’

      She pulled out paper and a quill and sat down at the kitchen table while Martin paced back and forth, as if he couldn’t quite make up his mind. She ignored him. First she wrote a short note to Mr Jarvis, telling him the money was on the way. Next a note to Molly, asking her to forward her letters on to William when they arrived and promising to explain the whole when she arrived in a few weeks’ time. ‘I want you to post these for me in the morning.’

      Martin halted and nodded.

      The next letter was to William. Explaining the mess she’d caused and begging him to wait with Sissy until he heard from her that all was resolved. She sanded and sealed the note. ‘You will take this to Portsmouth and leave it with the harbour master. Stress that it must be put into William’s hands

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