The Abducted Heiress

‘Half the household is probably listening at the keyhole,’ he murmured, briefly resting his forehead against hers. ‘I’m sure you don’t want everyone to know I dragged your skirts up to your—’

Desire made a high-pitched, closed-mouth hum of protest in the back of her throat.

Jakob grinned and lifted his forehead away from hers.

She glared at him, and turned her head to give a pointed glance at one of his hands, still gripping her shoulder. Then she frowned. He grasped her firmly between his long, strong fingers and his thumb, but he held his palm clear of contact with the fabric of her bodice.

‘Why are your hands not bandaged?’ she demanded. ‘Have you applied the salve?’

‘Not yet. I thought you would prefer to tend to me yourself,’ he replied. ‘So that you could assure yourself it had been done properly,’ he added blandly.

Desire grabbed one of his arms and turned his palm up towards her. He’d cleaned away the soot and dried blood, but it still looked raw. She was sure he was in considerable discomfort.

‘You are a fool. Where is the salve?’ she demanded, channelling the nervous excitement aroused by his unexpected kiss into her exasperation with his foolish behaviour.

‘There.’ He nodded in the direction of a small table. Desire saw the small pot of salve she had prepared as well as several strips of clean linen. She was slightly mollified by the sight. And a little flattered that he had waited for her to care for his hurts.

She pushed that sweetly insidious thought aside and dragged Jakob over to the table by her hold on his sleeve. When he was safely seated in a high-backed chair she fetched a stool and planted it on the floor in front of him.

‘By rights, lady, you should have the chair and I the stool,’ he observed.

‘It’s a little late to worry about protocol, don’t you think?’ she retorted. ‘Give me your right hand.’

He held it out to her and she gently folded the lace ruffles out of the way.

‘You should not have worn such fine lace,’ she scolded him. ‘I’m going to tie it back with a couple of bandages—otherwise the butter may spoil it.’

‘You are thoughtfulness personified,’ he said lightly. ‘But it’s not my lace—so I’m not much bothered by its fate.’

‘Whose?’ Desire looked up from tying a strip of linen round his forearm. ‘The Duke’s!’ she gasped, realisation coming to her. ‘You’re wearing the Duke’s clothes? Take them off at once! If he comes back and finds you in them—!’

Jakob laughed. ‘Are you afraid he’ll have me hanged for a thieving rogue?’ he teased her.

Desire’s initial panic subsided. She stared at Jakob through narrow, assessing eyes, once more reminded of how little real knowledge she had of her abductor and his dealings with the Duke of Kilverdale.

‘What is your connection to the Duke?’ she asked.

Jakob smiled, a little crookedly. ‘Not one that will recommend me to you, I fear,’ he said ruefully.

‘What?’

‘He’s my cousin,’ said Jakob.

‘Cousin?’ Desire stared at him blankly. ‘How can that be? I never heard his Grace had such a cousin as you. How…?’

‘His mother was sister to my father,’ Jakob explained, watching Desire’s face for her reaction.

‘His mother…’ Desire frowned, mentally recreating the Duke’s family tree. There had been a time when she had been quite familiar with it. ‘She was the daughter of Viscount Balston…Balston?’ She stared at Jakob as she made the connection. ‘The Viscount was created Earl of Swiftbourne for his part in King Charles’s restoration to the throne,’ she said slowly. ‘But, as I recall, Swiftbourne’s oldest son and his son both died during the wars, leaving the new Earl without heirs. Who are you, sir?’

‘Your knowledge of my family is extensive.’ Jakob sounded surprised. ‘Not complete but…how come you to know so much about it?’

‘I don’t,’ Desire denied quickly. ‘It was Kilverdale’s family I was interested in, not…well, never mind.’ She bent her head over her task, carefully tying back the lace from Jakob’s hands.

She reached for the salve and began to stroke it delicately over his sore palms. She heard his slight intake of breath and caught her lower lip between her teeth as she concentrated on touching him even more gently. At last the task was done and she wrapped the protective strips of linen around his hands and fingers.

She sat up straight and looked at Jakob. She saw he was watching her intently and instinctively lowered her eyes. Then she hastily looked up again in case he should accuse her of hiding.

He smiled briefly, but his gaze remained strangely intent.

‘Swiftbourne had two sons,’ he said quietly. ‘The oldest remained in England, but his second son—my father, James—forged a career for himself in Sweden. Like Kilverdale, I am one of Swiftbourne’s grandsons.’

‘One of them?’ Desire said thoughtfully. ‘Is your father still alive?’

‘No.’

‘I am sorry to hear that,’ she said, briefly but sincerely. ‘Do you have brothers?’

‘One. He’s younger than me,’ Jakob replied, pre-empting her next question.

‘Ah.’ Desire stared at him. ‘If everything you have said is true,’ she said slowly, ‘then it would appear you are not only a soldier, an abductor, an escaped prisoner—and God knows what else!—you will also be the next Earl of Swiftbourne.’

‘If I outlive my grandfather,’ Jakob agreed.

Chapter Five

Desire gazed at Jakob for several long, disbelieving moments. He smiled a little quizzically, but did not otherwise seem disturbed by her intense scrutiny.

At last she dragged in a deep, indignant breath.

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