Catherine Archer - Lady Thorn

Victoria Thorn found herself blinking in surprise as she realized that the two men had exited the carriage. She sat back on the seat with a groan of self-derision. What in heaven’s name had come over her?

She could not have said. All she did know was that she had not had a coherent thought since first looking into the face of her rescuer. Surely, she thought, pressing her hands to her heated cheeks, her odd sense of disorientation was nothing more than a strange reaction to nearly being kidnapped, then just as suddenly finding herself safe once more.

Again she envisioned those heavily lashed sea-green eyes, that mobile mouth, which had been thinned with dangerous intent as the man spoke to Reginald Cox. He had radiated a kind of hard strength that had nothing to do with the gun in his hand. Here was a man who knew how to attain what he desired, who knew how to command respect because of what was inside him. If he had no weapon at all, Reginald would still have been forced to heed him. It was equally obvious that he was a man of honor or he would not have come to her aid.

She did not want to think that her awareness had anything to do with the fact that he was incredibly handsome, a valiant liberator who had come dressed all in black except for his flowing white shirt, as a reckless buccaneer might. That kind of breathless fantasy was for chambermaids and debutantes. Not for mature women, women for whom the well-being of hundreds of people was a daily concern.

But it could not be denied that he was handsome, with his strongly cut features, the angles and hollows having been clearly outlined by the light from the carriage lantern. That same light had played on the pale golden streaks in his dark blond hair. His hard jaw and lean cheeks had not kept her gaze from drifting down to the strong, tanned column of his throat, which was exposed by the open neck of his white shirt.

A shiver rippled through Victoria, though she was not the least bit cold. Her gaze strayed to the now closed carriage door through which the men had passed, even as her ears picked up the sounds of their voices.

It was not difficult to differentiate between her rescuer’s tone and the other’s. His was rich and authoritative, even without being raised. It was apparent that he was accustomed to giving commands—and having them obeyed. She also noted as he continued to speak that the man’s English was strangely accented. Surely, she thought, he must be American.

American. Her own grandfather’s brother had gone across the sea to make his fortune there. It was said that he had been a great adventurer who could not be contained by the small islands of Britain. The Thorns had never again heard from him, nor from any family he might have. Would his descendants have the same intractable courage and confidence that this man had displayed thus far?

An angry retort from outside roused her from these thoughts, and Victoria sat up straighter, running her hands over her blue silk skirts. Taking note of the fact that they were trembling, she then clenched them tightly in her lap. She must get hold of herself.

Victoria could only hope that neither Reginald nor her rescuer had taken heed of her upset. It was quite unlike her to become so distraught, and she disliked any sign of weakness in herself. As she was the last surviving member of the Thorn family, it was her duty to meet every challenge with fortitude and heroism.

She could not help casting up a silent prayer that Reginald had indeed given up the notion of abducting her. She could still hardly give credence to the fact that he had been so foolish. Did he actually believe he could whisk her, Lady Victoria Thorn, sole heir to the duke of Carlisle, off to Gretna Green or some such place and marry her against her will?

Victoria had been rejecting his proposals for weeks, and had known that he was growing impatient with her refusals. Never had she imagined that the fortune-hunting Reginald would have the audacity to kidnap her. Regally she raised her finely sculpted chin. The very impudence of him.

Yet in spite of her bravado she did know a flutter of fear at realizing that he might well have succeeded, had it not been for the stranger. The man with eyes the color of a frothy sea.

The fluttering came inside her again, but this time it had nothing to do with fear. There was much that was compelling about the man who had aided her. He was quite unlike any she had ever chanced to meet. Such a mixture of strength and chivalry was definitely unusual and gave Victoria pause for thought.

She was again pulled out of her reverie, by the sounds of angry voices from outside the clarence, and her heart thudded in reaction when they were followed by the retort of a pistol. There was then more shouting, and the sound of hooves thundering off into the distance. What could have happened, she wondered?

Deciding that she must see for herself what was taking place, Victoria reached for the door handle. But she sat back in surprise and sudden unease as the door opened.

Pray God, she murmured silently, it not be Reginald. A sense of relief coursed through her in the next instant as she saw that it was the very man who had rescued her.

He was rubbing the back of his neck gingerly. “I’m afraid they have gotten away. The other one had managed to overpower your driver while I was binding Cox. He hit me over the back of the head with a branch, and they escaped. I am going after them, but I am going to tell your driver to take you directly home.”

She held out her hand to halt him. “No, please, let them go. I do not believe Reginald will be of any threat to me now. He would not risk the scandal.”

“But…” The man’s expression was incredulous.

“Please,” She broke in. “I wish nothing so much as to put this whole episode behind me. Reginald is really quite a harmless fool, and he will never find the courage to attempt such a thing again.”

He frowned in consternation, but she pressed on. “I assure you that this is all for the best. I have no wish to make this incident public. Nor will Mr. Cox, or Mr. Jenkins.”

He hesitated as his gaze met hers. “Is there no way that I can convince you? They should be punished.”

She shook her head.

As he was obviously not happy with her decision, she breathed a sigh of relief when he shrugged. “As you will.” He nodded toward the seat across from her. “May I at least suggest, then, that I see you safely home?” He looked at her questioningly, one dark brow quirked rakishly over those compelling green eyes.

She took a deep breath to steady herself as she realized anew just how attractive he was. The feeling of being safe in his presence had not abated. And in spite of what she had said to him, there was a lingering trace of fear in her at what might have happened if he had not chanced upon them. She gave a barely perceptible nod. “I would be grateful.”

He nodded. “I’ll tie my horse to the back.”

“Victoria nodded in return, wondering why she was being so faint of heart as she watched the man leave the interior of the carriage. A moment later he was back, opening the window and instructing the driver to go on. He then settled himself on the seat across from her.

The carriage started off with a slight jolt, momentarily distracting her. It was well sprung, and the motion smoothed out quickly, and her attention was soon drawn back to the man who had come to her aid. Try as she might, Victoria could not help noticing the way the lanternlight set his dark blond hair agleam with golden highlights. Coupled with the deep tan she had previously noted on his face and throat, this evidence made her certain he spent long hours in the sun.

Who was this man? And what strange twist of fate had placed him on this lonely stretch of road so late at night? And just when she needed him? She asked none of the questions dancing through her mind, something telling her he would not welcome her queries.