No Law Against Love Read online

  Elizabeth’s eyes widened at his audacity, but before she could make a rebuttal, he continued, “And then, perhaps, you can inform them what you are doing in my carriage.”

  “Y…your carriage?”

  Brown eyes twinkling with merriment, they moved lazily down her body before returning to her face. “Yes. Might I enquire what you’re doing here?”

  “I…I was…I am…”

  “For someone so quick to threaten me with our upstanding authorities, the cat seems to have gotten your tongue, mademoiselle. However, I repeat my question. What are you doing in my conveyance?”

  Elizabeth swallowed, trying to rid herself of the lump threatening to clog her throat. Could she push his leg aside and jump from the carriage? Possibly, but she’d more than likely kill herself in the fall. Her circumstances might be dire, but ending her life didn’t seem a palatable conclusion to the situation. She hadn’t risked running away from her uncle to die at the hands of a stranger. Albeit a very good looking stranger.

  “Although it is none of your concern, sir, I am trying to avoid someone.”

  A smile spread across his face.

  Had she just thought him good looking? No, this man was more than handsome. A lock of his black hair fell over his forehead, making him look like a tousled boy. Elizabeth curbed the urge to reach out and brush it off his face.

  “Ah! I incorrectly guessed your marital status. Perchance you try to avoid a husband. Why? Did he catch you dancing too many times with another man at one of the ton’s parties? Or perhaps he caught you in the garden, wrapped in your lover’s arms? Lips locked in a kiss? His body pressing against yours?”

  Elizabeth felt a blush creep up her face. How dare this drunken sot suggest such things?

  “Let’s see, who near St. James Square had a large bash tonight—one I made a point to avoid?” He paused in thought, then his eyes brightened. “Lady Ashforth? She and her husband live in the area. Is that how you came to be hiding in my carriage?”

  Angered, Elizabeth leaned forward to slap his face. He easily blocked her hand.

  “How dare you suggest I would do something so—”

  “Daring? Improper? Risque? Come now, do not try to protest innocence. Do you always secret yourself in a stranger’s conveyance?”

  “Of course not,” she bristled. “If not a matter of life and death, I would never—”

  Stephen immediately sobered. “Someone threatened your life? Who? Where is he?” He leaned forward to peer out the window. “Why did you not immediately say so?”

  “I did not say my life is in danger. I merely—”

  “Woman, are you in danger or are you not? Cease with your prattling and give me a straight answer.”

  Stephen watched the anger seep out of the young lady seated across from him. She slumped against the seat. The most ridiculous urge swept over him. He wanted to reach out to draw her into his arms and comfort her. He didn’t even know her. For all he knew, she could be here to rob him.

  He felt a smile edge across his face. As if this wisp of a woman could rob anyone. He doubted she’d even come to his shoulders. Whatever made him think such a thing? Perhaps the panic in her big, blue eyes that made her look willing to do whatever it took to stay alive?

  Her sandy blonde hair was fastened in a chignon at the base of her neck. A dark blue hat matching her dress sat askew on her head, a few stray tendrils working their way free of the pins. She looked a lady of means, not a common street trollop. So what was she doing out unescorted in London? It just wasn’t done.

  A lone tear slowly crept down her cheek.

  She raised her eyes to meet his. “After Father died last month, my uncle arrived from Scotland. To gain control of my estate, he insists I wed my cousin. A loathsome man.” She shivered at the thought.

  “My sympathies for your loss.”

  She nodded in silent thanks.

  “You don’t sound Scottish. You have no brogue.”

  She shook her head. “My father was Scottish, but I was born in England. My uncle hates me for my English upbringing.” She sighed and shifted in her seat. “Though barely more than a lad at the time, Grandpapa survived Culloden’s bloody battle back in ‘45.”

  “When King George’s forces crushed the foolhardy prince’s ill-equipped men?”

  Elizabeth shot him a frosty glare. “Grandpapa said they fought bravely, but had no chance of winning. The king’s brutal son, Cumberland, gave the order all be put to death.”

  “I know English history well. I need no history lesson. The Scots never stood a chance. It was a mooncalf’s bargain to support the prince in the first place. But you digress. What does this have to do with someone threatening you?”

  Elizabeth clenched her hand into a fist. Why was she bothering to tell this man anything? He was obviously too arrogant to listen to the truth. Yet there was something about him. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but he seemed to want to protect her. She just didn’t understand why. Deciding not to bash him over the head, she chose to give him one more chance.

  “I’m trying to explain, if you will quit interrupting.”

  He smiled, but nodded for her to continue.

  “Grandpapa was injured, but fortunate enough to escape. He ran, knowing he had to flee the country. My grandmother, an Englishwoman, found him near death in a forest on her family’s estate. She took Grandpapa home and tended his wounds.” Seeing the man’s arched brow, she glared and added, “She was a very caring young woman. To make a long story short, they fell in love, left her country home in the Borders and returned to her family home in St. Albans, north of London. My father was their first born.”

  “So, you’ve lived in England all your life?”

  “I have. England is the only home I know—and now my uncle tries to take it from me. He never forgave Grandpapa for having an English wife. Never forgave Papa for living in England. As soon as he was old enough to leave, my uncle went to Scotland to live. He blames everything wrong in his life on the English—takes no blame for anything himself. I don’t know why he hates everything English.”

  She stopped when her stomach growled. She reached into her reticule, drew out something small and unwrapped it. She placed a piece of chocolate into her mouth and let it melt on her tongue. The smell of chocolate wafted throughout the carriage.

  Elizabeth closed her eyes, savoring the small treat. “Forgive me for not sharing, Sir. It’s the only piece I have, and I fear I haven’t eaten this day. Uncle brought me into town to get the license necessary for me to wed my cousin. I ran away when they both stopped at that establishment to celebrate their cleverness in forcing me to wed.”

  “White’s?”

  At her nod, Stephen again reached up with his walking stick and tapped on the roof once. The carriage immediately turned the corner, changing direction.

  Stephen smiled. “For one so ready to summon the authorities, you really should learn more about the local laws.”

  “Whatever do you mean?”

  “Well, you threatened me with that when I was…outside my carriage.”

  “When you were in the middle of that disgusting act?”

  Stephen laughed. “Yes, then. I do apologize. Truly. Had I known anyone was around, I never would have…” He stopped.

  “Relieved yourself?” she supplied.

  “Again, I apologize. However, I do feel the need to tell you I could have you arrested now as well.”

  “What?” She looked appalled and her blue eyes rounded in fear.

  Stephen nodded. “For two things, actually. Trespass—and now for eating chocolate.”

  “Has your mind gone feeble, sir? You cannot have me—”

  “Ah, but I can. Though ridiculous, the law states a lady may not eat chocolate in a public conveyance.”

  “But, I never—”

  “Never ate chocolate? Or never trespassed on my property? In truth, I fear you are guilty of both.”

  “This is not a public conveyance.
”

  “It is a conveyance, is it not?”

  “It is.”

  “And we are out in public, are we not?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “I rest my case.”

  “You, sir, are drunk!” she said, indignation rife in her voice.

  The horses slowed, and soon came to a stop.

  Elizabeth turned to look out the window. “Where are we?”

  “My townhouse.” He leaned forward to open the door, then stepped down. He reached his hand out to her. “Come.”

  “Never!” she shrieked. “I would rather—”

  “Return to your uncle? Shall I arrange for my driver to take you back?”

  She looked quickly over her shoulder as though afraid her uncle might be conjured up just by mention of his name.

  “Come,” Stephen said again. “I guarantee your safety.”

  “How—”

  “Woman, I tire. I drank too much and I need to go into my home. If you wish my protection, come with me. If not…” He shrugged. “Well then, I wish you well.”

  Elizabeth bit her lower lip. Dare she trust this man? Surely, were he going to ravish her, he could have done so in his carriage. But to go into his home? Could she—dare she—go with him?

  She sat for a moment, staring at him. Tall and lean, he looked very much a rake. His eyes met and held hers. They drew her in with their intensity. He had an air of authority about him, yet seemed to be a man she could trust. Why she couldn’t say, but Elizabeth trusted her instincts. Father always called her a good judge of character. Well, Father, I truly hope you’re right.

  Casting her lot to Fate, Elizabeth reached for the man’s extended hand and stepped down from the carriage.

  Soon she stood in the front entryway to a grand townhouse. An elderly, grey-haired woman who’d appeared after the doorman allowed them entry, now stood before them frowning. Her eyes raked over Elizabeth before returning to her employer.

  Elizabeth’s eyes swept the richly appointed hallway, the floors graced with Connemara marble. She could see into the nearby salon and drew a sharp breath of the beauty of the Aubusson rugs. Her mind snapped back to the present when she heard the man say, “That will be all, Mrs. Brown. I’ll need no further assistance tonight.”

  “And the young lady?” Mrs. Brown queried, her disapproval apparent.

  “Miss…my wi…” He stopped, stumbling over the words. “My wife, the new Viscountess, and I shall retire to my bedchamber.”

  Elizabeth stifled a squeak. Her head turned quickly to stare at him. A wide grin spread across his face as he looked at her. Why had he said something so ridiculous?

  He took her arm and started to move her toward the tall, winding staircase. Elizabeth held back, unwilling to go upstairs with him, but he tightened the grip on her arm and pulled.

  Not wanting to make a scene, she followed. She glanced back to see the housekeeper standing at the foot of the stairs, the woman’s eyes clearly wide with surprise over the unforeseen announcement.

  As soon as they entered his bedchamber and he closed the door, she rounded on him.

  “How dare you make such a ludicrous statement? Hell would freeze over before I would ever agree to become your wife. I’m trying to avoid a marriage, not jump into one!”

  He laughed. “Nor do I wish to wed, but my busybody housekeeper rushed out as soon as she heard a female voice. While speaking with her, it dawned on me I had no idea who you are. You never got around to introducing yourself, and I blurted out the first explanation I thought of.”

  Elizabeth blushed. “Oh, well, I…ah, my name is MacNairy. Lady Elizabeth MacNairy.” She turned to take in her surroundings, wondering if her uncle’s actions had finally driven her to madness. She stood in a man’s bedchamber and had no idea who he was either! Despite the situation, she didn’t fear this gentle man. She turned back to face him and drew in a breath when she saw him removing his waistcoat. “And you?”

  “Webber. Stephen Webber.” He moved to sit on the bed and began removing his boots. “Viscount Linden at your service, Miss MacNairy.”

  He motioned to a chair beside a small table with a decanter on it. “Please, have a seat.”

  Elizabeth sat, glad for the distance between them. Though she felt an instinctive trust in the Viscount, the realities of the situation were just beginning to sink in. “You said you could help me. Pray, tell me how.”

  His boot thumped to the floor before he turned to her. “Later this morn we’ll head to the bank to withdraw and protect your funds. For now, I am too tired to talk further. I need to sleep.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes widened as she glanced about the room.

  “I know there is not much left of the night, but you mean to have me sit in this chair whilst you sleep?”

  “Rubbish. You shall sleep with me.”

  Elizabeth jumped to her feet. “I shall do no such thing! You said I would be safe. I should have known you would—”

  “On the far side of the bed,” he said impatiently. He swept his hand toward it. “It’s quite large, a bloody parade ground, actually. Place the pillows between us if you do not trust me. And unless you have other clothes hidden somewhere on your person, I suggest you remove your dress and sleep in your chemise. It would not do to appear at the bank garbed in wrinkled clothes.”

  Grumbling, he slipped into bed and pulled the covers over him. “It has been a long time since I’ve slept with any clothes on. Come to bed, woman. I am far too tired to ravish you.”

  What a lie! Stephen closed his eyes, pretending to sleep.

  He heard the rustle of her clothes as she removed her dress. His manhood immediately hardened. The bed moved under her weight as she edged under the sheet, remaining near the rim of the bed. Bedamned! Why was he putting himself through this torment? All he had to do was roll over and slake his needs with her body. Her reputation had been ruined the minute she entered his townhouse, though he’d been too intent on playing the knight in shining armour to consider the repercussions. Pushing aside his conscience, his mind conjured images of creamy white skin and his hands filled with her full breasts.

  Gads, he had to stop these thoughts. He’d promised her she’d be safe, and one thing he never did was renege on his word.

  But it was going to be a long night.

  ~~~

  Stephen woke with his arms wrapped around something warm and soft. The something snuggled closer. His eyes opened wide as his crotch rubbed against her very firm derrière.

  With a groan, he considered rolling to the far side of the bed. But the thought of removing his arm from her waist and losing the sweet sensation of his manhood pressed against her bottom was more than he could bear. He wanted to hold her a little longer.

  Wanted to wake up like this for the rest of his life.

  Where had that ridiculous thought come from? He’d slept with many women since coming of age. Not once had he thought of keeping one. He hadn’t earned the reputation as a rake for nothing.

  Gritting his teeth, Stephen moved away before she awoke. He didn’t want to frighten her. She had to trust him or he wouldn’t be able to assist her. And he definitely wanted to help her—although he had no idea why. Wanted to protect her from the uncle she told him about, even though he’d never heard of the man before. Wanted to protect her from everyone—everything—always.

  ~~~

  Elizabeth hadn’t slept this well since her father died. Suddenly, she sat bolt upright.

  Papa! Uncle Fergus! Cousin Horace. Oh, dearest Heaven, what had she done?

  She looked around the room and saw the decanter had been moved. In its place sat a tray of food. Her stomach grumbled as she inhaled the tantalizing scent of eggs. Rising, she approached the table.

  Eggs, bread, marmalade, and fruit were piled high on a plate she found under a silver warming cover. She was so hungry. She’d not eaten at all the previous day. Her only thought, as her uncle dragged her around town, was to somehow escape him.

 
She’d done that, but at what cost? She’d spent the night in a man’s bed! Albeit the situation had been innocent, she was ruined. Why hadn’t she thought of that last night? Now she’d have to marry her disgusting cousin, Horace. What had she been thinking?

  While her mouth was full of bread and orange marmalade, the bedchamber door opened.

  Stephen Webber stood in the doorway, clad in fawn colored breeches and a white linen shirt. His wide shoulders practically filled the doorway. Elizabeth had trouble swallowing her food at the sight of him.

  Had he done anything to her as she slept? A blush tinged her cheeks.

  He broke her reverie when he said, “It is time for you to dress. We must reach the bank before your uncle has a chance to get there first. We should be there when it opens.”

  He didn’t sound as if he had a hangover. The man had been totally foxed the night before.

  “All right, I will.” She raised a glass and took a sip of juice. “Thank you for the breakfast. I was famished.”

  “I remembered your stomach growling when you broke the law last night.” A smile crossed his face and his brown eyes glinted with merriment.

  “Broke the law? I did no such thing. I—”

  “Ate chocolate in my carriage. Have you forgotten so soon? I’ve been debating if I should turn you over to the authorities.”

  “You wouldn’t! You promised you would—”

  “Take care of you,” he finished for her. The impact of those words made him pause. “I remember quite well. I’m just not certain why I made such a promise.”

  She stiffened.

  “Well, you certainly do not have to keep it. I can care for myself.”

  She turned her head away, but not before he saw her lower lip quiver—that luscious, shapely lip.

  “If you will excuse me,” she said, rising from the chair, “I will freshen myself, dress, and be on my way.” Her eyes met his and held. “I thank you again for the breakfast. And the place to sleep.”

  She stammered before continuing, and Stephen saw a blush rise to her cheeks. “Did we…did you…?”

  He burst out laughing. “Merciful Saints, you are an innocent. Trust me, had we done anything scandalous, you would definitely know it.”