Page 72 of Better Off Wed

As if aware of his place in her thoughts, he stirred a little, though he did not wake. Snugging closer, she laid her head against his chest purely for the pleasure of listening to his heartbeat. Would every morning begin thus?

Would every night pass like the one before?

She supposed in the course of a lifetime together, they would spend a great many nights and mornings in less enjoyable fashion, facing life’s ups and downs. But she was nonetheless intrigued by the possibility that future mornings and nights could be even better. That the first night’s occasional twinge of discomfort or momentary awkwardness would give way to bodies and hearts that knew one another with a degree of intimacy possible only over time.

She was just on the point of waking him to test how far one night had advanced their shared knowledge when someone knocked at the door.

Not the door to the bedroom, but the door of the cottage. Though the sound was muffled, it was unmistakable.

“Jeremy,” she whispered, suddenly uncertain. “Jeremy, darling, someone’s here.”

He was instantly awake and alert at the sound of her voice, never more a soldier than in that moment, as he sat up, indifferent to his nakedness, and scanned the room for some unseen threat.

“There was a knock at the front door,” she explained, gathering the sheet around her. “I suppose it must be one of Colonel Millrose’s guards, for who else could—?”

He held up a finger, calling for silence, straining to hear if the knock came again.

It did not.

Climbing over her, he paused for a kiss. “You’re probably right, but I’ll just check. Don’t move.” After he tugged on his breeches, he slipped from the room, leaving the door open just a crack.

Though the order to stay put was almost certainly about protecting her, she was tempted to obey on the possibility he intended to pleasure her when he returned. But since it was morning, and his mother and sister could be awake at any moment, she rose too.

Snatching up the first item of clothing she laid her hand on, his discarded shirt, she pulled it over her head and crept over to peer around the door. The entryway was still in shadow, but she watched him draw back the bolt and lift the latch. “Is someone there?” he asked as he began to open the door. “Why, Miss Godfrey! How did you come to be here?”

Laura bit back a gasp when she heard the governess’s voice. “I’m so sorry, my lord.”

And then a deeper, masculine voice. “Let us in, and she won’t get hurt.”

Emily Godfrey stepped into Briar Cottage with the Earl of Thornton no more than half a step behind her, his pistol at her back.

It took every bit of strength for Laura to restrain herself from running to Jeremy’s side. Instinctively, she knew she had a far better chance of helping him if she could manage to catch Thornton by surprise.

“Ah,” said Jeremy in a remarkably pleasant voice, as if he’d expected their arrival. “How chivalrous, Thornton. Taking a woman hostage to get past the guard.”

“I knew the damn fools wouldn’t shoot her. A fatal weakness.”

“One I suppose the French do not share?”

Thornton’s answering laugh was humorless. “I thought you might’ve caught on, when you saw the letter that ignorant chit drenched in coffee. But just to be clear, I’ve no love for the Frogs, either—just their money. And for that, I need what you stole. The letter, the cookbook, all of it.”

“Or you’ll shoot Miss Godfrey, I suppose.”

“Miss Godfrey must help me leave, just the way she helped me in. But I’d gladly shoot that thieving whore who was pretending to be your wife. Where is she?” he demanded, shoving Miss Godfrey into Jeremy, knocking him off balance, and scanning the rooms to either side, the pistol following the arc of his gaze.

She wasn’t sure whether he’d seen her or just the open door. Either way, he took a step in her direction, then stopped and looked up the steps.

From the top of the stairwell, Julia shrieked, “Jeremy, there’s a man with a gun!”

“Hide!” Laura shouted to her, as Jeremy took advantage of Thornton’s momentary distraction to push Miss Godfrey back out the door with an order to run.

As a door slammed above them, Thornton swung around to point the pistol at Jeremy. “I know you think you’ve got proof I’ve committed treason. But the charge won’t stand. I’ve got friends at the very top, Captain Addison.” He spat out the rank, as if it were beneath him even to speak it.

Jeremy’s eyes flashed. “As it happens, my lord, so do I.”

His movements were a blur. Laura heard the pistol rattle to the floor almost before she saw the blow that had sent it there. Fists began to fly, Thornton’s first punch colliding with Jeremy’s jaw, and Jeremy’s answer landing with a solid thunk in Thornton’s gut, driving the air from his lungs.

Jeremy was faster, stronger—seeing his bare arms and chest, she no longer questioned how he’d been able to carry her so effortlessly. But Thornton was heavier, and more desperate. Using his weight, he drove Jeremy to the ground and scrambled to recover his gun, which had skittered beneath the chair on which she’d been sitting last night, just out of the earl’s reach.