"What are you doing?" Essie placed her hands over his, trying to stop him.
"Since there is utterly no hope of redemption for your current coiffure…" Cross swatted her hands away and began to pull out her pins. "Waste not, want not." He pulled out her final pin and allowed it to clink to the ground.
"But everyone knows we're here! They could walk in at any moment!" Essie cried in a whisper, but without heat as Cross lowered his head to kiss the hollow of her throat.
"My mother closed the door. Believe me, she will not return." He teased her flesh with his tongue. "Because she knows I'll be honorable… but only as much as absolutely necessary." He captured her mouth in a hungry kiss as his hands, somehow now bare from his gloves, wove through her hair and drew her into the haze of desire once more.
It was some time later, and after Anna's maid had been enlisted in repairing her hair, that she found herself finally leaving the Crossby residence, glowing with the knowledge that she was loved.
She took the hand of her footman as she entered the carriage, glancing at his face and absently wondering when they had hired a new one. Shrugging, she settled into the carriage. Lost in her own thoughts as it pulled her across the cobbled streets of London, she relished the knowledge that she'd see Cross in only a short time, as he presented his suit to her father.
The carriage stopped suddenly. She glanced out the window, confused. Her door swung open and she startled, as a man dressed in black entered. Essie gasped as she reached for the door, but he was too quick. He pushed her back into the bench, rapped on the roof twice, sending the carriage into sharp movement. The man lost his balance momentarily, and in doing such, the dark hat he wore slipped and exposed his face and light colored hair.
She felt her eyes widen in shock as she stared into the face of Jefferson Markfield, Lord Trighton.
"You?" Essie questioned, her heart pounding with fear and confusion.
"Shut up," he growled as he grabbed his hat and sat down. "You'll do as I say, understood? You little whore!" He spoke with a hysterical edge to his tone, his eyes wide and wild.
Essie swallowed her fear, trying to simply think.
"You… you told her."
"Told who? What are you speaking of?" Essie tried to distract him as she scanned the carriage for anything she could use as weapon.
"Miss Montray. You told her!"
"Told her what?" Essie asked, trying to keep calm.
"We have nothing! Nothing! She was eating out of my hand, I had her! And you ruined it! And now… now." He leaned forward slightly. "You're going to pay."
CHAPTER SEVEN
Cross couldn't wait. Not with the elation he felt, with the utter joy that came from the knowledge that Essie was his, his betrothed.
With every kiss, every touch, it was beyond tormenting, having everything he had desperately wanted be so close… though not his. At least not yet.
He was overjoyed to realize that her passion matched his own, that where her kiss was inexperienced, she made up for it with enthusiasm. And if her kiss were that… zealous, heaven help him when they could enjoy all that lay beyond kissing!
He was painfully aware of the temptation to experiment with that very idea before the wedding. Which was exactly why he was going to attain a special license.
As soon as Essie left, he saddled his horse and followed her carriage down the side street onto the main thoroughfare towards the office of the Archbishop of Canterbury at Doctor's Common in London, to attain his license. However, rather than turning toward Grosvenor Street, Essie's carriage continued to go straight.
Electing to follow, he missed his own turn off. His confusion grew as a hired hack began to trail Essie's carriage as well. Just as he urged his mount to catch up with them, a nearby carriage lost a wheel, sending the carriage into his lane, the horse pulling it, wild, and the driver trying desperately to right it. Cross' mount deftly side stepped, moving around the issue, but in the time it had taken him to clear the confusion, he saw a dark figure enter Essie's carriage.
His heart stopped beating. His lungs ceased needing air as he watched, too far away to stop the nightmare from taking place before his eyes. With a primal growl, his heart continued its beat and his lungs drew in air as he saw red, an infuriating angry shade of it, coloring his world and eliminating all details but the carriage holding the woman he loved.
He urged his mount into a gallop as he pursued the now moving carriage. It only took a moment for him to catch up. Systematically, he evaluated the situation. Two men; a driver and a gentleman inside the carriage.
He needed control of the carriage, so, pulling hat down to hide his face, he pulled in front of the carriage, trying to appear as if struggling with his horse.
"Pardon! My horse, a little spooked." he called out, continuing to maneuver till Essie's carriage came to a complete stop.