Page 29 of Captivating the Earl (Lords and Ladies in Love 5)

Her cheeks flushed, and he swore he saw something in her eyes that had him wondering if the same ideas he’d had earlier were in her thoughts, as well. Her chin came up with all the haughtiness only a young lady of the ton could display. “Certainly not!” With a sweep of her dressing gown, she turned and left the room, head held high.

Hawk chuckled as she closed the door between the rooms with a firm snap. He sat still, listening to the rustle of her dressing gown being removed, then her slippers dropping to the floor. Within seconds, the sound of the rope mesh under the mattress squeaked as Lizzie climbed into bed.

Blast his perfect hearing!

A good strong drink was just what he needed to be able to sleep. Maybe two. Or three. He strode across the floor and headed down the stairs as if the demons of hell were at his heels.

…

Lizzie cocked her head at the sound of Hawk leaving the sitting room and hurrying down the stairs. She was sure he was going for a drink, which was precisely what she needed. A nice glass of sherry would help her relax since all her earlier fatigue had vanished.

She might be an innocent, but the look on Hawk’s face when he’d walked into the room and saw her standing there in her nightgown brought tingles to her breasts. His perusal had gone from the top of her head to her bare toes. Why she thought pulling on her slippers would cover her more was comical.

Lying on her back, her hands folded on top of the counterpane, she went over the happenings of the day. She’d only traveled about two miles on the stagecoach when she realized what a mistake she’d made. Running had helped her once, but Hawk was not the type of man to let her go. He’d been commissioned by the Home Office to bring her in for questioning, and even if he hadn’t decided what to do yet, he would certainly not shrug it off if she disappeared once more.

Every time she thought about Wycliff’s cousin, her stomach fluttered. Her breathing increased, and parts of her body called to her to do something. Or permit Hawk to do something. Even though she was by herself, in the dark, she still blushed at those thoughts.

What would it be like to have Hawk kiss her again? To have his large, strong hands on her body, caressing, stroking, drawing her against him. When he’d pulled her into his arms for that kiss in the carriage, his engorged manhood had been visible in his pantaloons. He’d been aroused, and that she could affect a man as worldly as Lord Hawkins, who had taken any number of beautiful and experienced women to bed, was exciting indeed.

She turned and flopped onto her stomach, resting her chin on her laced fingers. He was, of course, a gentleman, but what would she do if he tried to seduce her? She snorted. If he was as skilled as they said he was, she would, most likely, succumb.

That was a frightening and exhilarating thought! She flipped onto her back. If she didn’t stop thinking about Lord Hawkins, she would never get to sleep, and tomorrow would be a tiresome day riding together in the carriage.

Together in the carriage! Her heartbeat quickened.

She was thinking quite foolishly. A man like Lord Hawkins, who could have any woman he wanted—heavens, they were forever falling at his feet. Why would he be interested in an overlooked debutante—with the scandal of being a traitor to the crown looming over her?

She fluffed up her pillow, punched it down again, then moved onto her side and refused to budge from that spot until she was fast asleep.

Sometime later, Lizzie was awakened by the sound of footsteps treading carefully across the room. Frightened that it was someone who wanted to cause her harm, she remained very still, and through narrowed eyelids watched as the figure drew near. Pale moonlight filtered through the window, providing just enough illumination for her to see Hawk approach her bed and stop right next to it.

Lizzie held her breath as he just stared at her. Then he ran his fingers through his already disheveled hair and bending low, kissed her on the forehead, the scent of brandy wafting over her. He turned and left the room.

“Wake up, sleepyhead.” Hawk’s deep voice interrupted her dream, right when he was about to kiss her. She opened her eyes to see him grinning, fully dressed, his hair still damp from his bath. “I want to get started early. The inn ostler tells me the private carriage I ordered is ready.”

Without thinking, Lizzie tossed off the covers. Once the cool air hit her bare legs, she realized her nightgown had ridden up to the very top of her thighs. She sat up, whisking the garment down, blushing at Hawk’s smoldering glance. “I will be ready shortly. I’ll meet you downstairs.”

Hawk shook his head, as if clearing it. “Ah, yes. Certainly. Downstairs.” He turned on his heels, then stopped when he reached the door. “The innkeeper’s wife has packed food so we can break our fast on the road to save time. As soon as you join me, I will have one of his sons fetch your satchels and load them onto the carriage.”

Lizzie nodded and scrambled off the bed. Her face—and body—still burned from Hawk’s casual perusal of her in her scant nightclothes, with her legs bare. She hurriedly dressed, again pleased that her gowns didn’t require a lady’s maid since she’d had them made for a governess.

The day was damp and dreary, but so far, no rain had fallen that would impede their travel. Lizzie accepted Hawk’s hand as she stepped into the carriage, shivering from the dampness. She settled herself, and he climbed in after her. Reaching under his seat, Hawk pulled out a lap robe, which he handed to her. Grateful for the extra warmth, she spread it over her body. The luggage was strapped onto the back of the coach, and they set off.

Shortly afterward, Lizzie broke out the food and tea the innkeeper’s wife had sent. She and Hawk chatted amiably about general things while they consumed cheese, cold meat, apples, and fresh bread. The tea wasn’t hot, but she still enjoyed it.

Once the remaining food had been packed away, Lizzie drew in a deep breath and faced Hawk, her hands placed in her lap. “Tell me about my father’s death.”

r /> Hawk did not look surprised, which was unexpected. Or perhaps his years of working with the Home Office had trained him to hide his reactions. “This might not be a conversation for a lady.”

“He was my father. I ask not as a lady, but as a daughter. Society only knew him as Lord Loverly, and then eventually as ‘that traitor.’ To me he was a devoted father, who showered me with love and attention after my mother died when I was a mere three years.”

Hawk shook his head, as if he still did not want to speak on the matter, but Lizzie was adamant. Her voice thickening, she asked, “Please, my lord, I want to know. Did he suffer? Was he repentant at the end? What happened that His Grace found it necessary to shoot him?”

Chapter Thirteen

Hawk’s mind flashed back to the night he, Cam, Templeton, and Bedford had tracked down Loverly, who had been holding Bedford’s duchess captive, hoping to use her to escape the country. Hawk did not want to recount that night to Lizzie. Her father had not redeemed himself and had ended up on his knees begging for his life. When the man reached into his pocket, Bedford had shot him. It had been confirmed later that Loverly had had a pistol in his pocket, which they’d assumed he had been about to use on the Duke or his wife.

It had been discussed among the four of them afterward that it had seemed as if Loverly had wanted Bedford to kill him. They had all been carrying firearms that night, so there was little chance Loverly would have escaped with his life anyway. Oftentimes informers did kill themselves to avoid the humiliation of a public beheading—the punishment for traitors.