Although Edward had earlier told Dominic that Rupert and DeLisle had departed that morning for DeLisle’s house, Dominic didn’t pass that snippet of information on to Isobel. There were watchmen still at the house who could pose a risk. He needed her to be wary and alert. “Come on,” he growled with a nod toward the door.
Every masculine instinct within him screamed at him to leave her behind. To take her back to bed, and make sure she was too tired to follow him. But he had never seen the cold determination on her face before and wasn’t certain she wouldn’t carry through with her promise not to allow him into her bed again. Being kept out of his wife’s loving arms was a risk he couldn’t afford to take.
Disgruntled he moved toward the door, leaving her to follow. If she wanted to come with him, then she could bloody well forget about being treated like a lady, Dominic grumbled, easing the door open and disappearing outside. He didn’t stand back and allow her to precede him, just left the door swinging, not caring if she was offended. What she was doing was downright stupid, and the churlish side of him refused to let her off so easily.
“Wait!” Isobel gasped, as she watched Dominic start to move towards the lawn.
Dominic fought the urge to roll his eyes. “What?” His voice bristled with impatience.
Isobel scowled at him. “Which way are we going?”
Dominic silently pointed toward the dark shadow of the tree line across the far side of the garden.
“Come on then.”
Dominic watched as his wife quietly merged with the low slung hedges and simply vanished into thin air. If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he would never have considered it possible. Shaking his head in stunned admiration, Dominic took to his heels after his wife.
Isobel was frozen. It hadn’t taken long for the cold to penetrate the heavy boots she was wearing, or the expensive woollen cloak. Her fingers had already gone stiff with cold and her toes numb. She sniffed softly, wishing she had remembered to bring a handkerchief.
A few months ago she had been oblivious to the cool night air, having become accustomed to spending most of the daytime outside. The relatively short time she had been living at Havistock Hall had undoubtedly softened her, and she had quickly become used to the sheer luxury of roaring fires, and warm clothing.
How easily she had forgotten, she mused, as she tried to wriggle some feeling back into her numb toes.
Carefully pulling the cloak as high as it would go, she tugged her
cap down low until it covered the tips of her pink ears. Covering herself as much as possible, she eyed the sprawling house before her with trepidation.
Although still large, Rupert’s house wasn’t as grandiose as Havistock Hall, by any stretch of the imagination. Nor were the gardens as beautifully landscaped, Isobel thought as she carefully surveyed the outlines of the sparse vegetation through the darkness.
Thankfully the moon was only partially showing through the thick clouds, and afforded them some visibility of the surrounding area, but not enough to penetrate the umbrella of trees currently giving them protection from prying eyes.
Keeping her back to the solid bulk of the largest tree trunk she could find, Isobel stood silently in the shadows and carefully scanned the house, with its many windows lining the ground floor. It appeared there were only three main doors; the front door, the rear kitchen door and one set of larger doors to the side facing her.
She stood in the shadow of the trees beside Dominic and had studied the building long enough to learn that somebody inside was keeping watch. At regular intervals the soft glow of a candle would move past windows, slowly moving from the rear of the house, toward the front before presumably climbing the inner stairs. After several minutes the light would appear at the front of the house upstairs, before slowly moving towards the back. Isobel counted to six hundred slowly before the guard returned to the original place where she considered the kitchens were located.
She wished Dominic would say something, or even smile at her; anything to help banish the nerves fluttering in her belly. But apart from the brief flick of his hand movements giving her instructions, he did little to acknowledge her presence.
Shivering as a cool draft of night air teased the ends of her cloak, Isobel eased through the first row of trees marking the edge of the gardens, closest to the kitchen door. Peering through the gloom, she was busy looking for a large tree to stand against when a solid length of well muscled arm slid around her waist. Her scream of fright was immediately cut off by a gloved hand clamped harshly over her lips.
“Don’t scream,” the harsh voice snarled in her ear. Isobel immediately froze, and closed her eyes against the wave of sickness that swept through her. Briefly, she wondered if she might just throw up there and then. Anger swelled as she wrenched her head away, tempted for a brief moment to sink her teeth into the soft leather of his gloves, in retribution for the shock he had given her.
Squirming, she tried to pull away only to find herself held tight against the solid wall of his chest.
“Damn it let me go!” Isobel snapped, tugging ineffectually at the arm across her chest.
“Stand still woman, and for God’s sake keep quiet!” Dominic growled dropping the arm across her waist to place it firmly across her hips and in doing so, tightened his hold as he waited patiently for her to stop squirming.
Temper seething, Isobel rolled her eyes and eventually stood motionless in his arms.
“Oh, so you are talking to me now,” Isobel snapped waspishly, piqued at his earlier callousness.
Dominic snorted cynically. “I’ve recently returned from war; you would be surprised what I can do. We aren’t on a casual stroll through the woods where we can chat amiably as we just wander along.” Inwardly, Dominic shook his head at his wife’s dexterity, and hoped she never discovered the lie he had just told. She had indeed been deuced difficult to ignore as she had copied his every move with a speed and efficiency that unnerved him. It had taken all of his skills to think of her as anything other than his wife.
“I have to do this Dominic,” Isobel argued, refusing to be cowed by his anger in spite of the bitter regret that coursed through her. She relished the last moments of being held by him, even if it was partly in anger, and took the opportunity to lean upon his strength at her back.
“So what do you think we should do? Knock on the front door and ask for work?” Dominic loosened his grip to move beside her, flicking a cool look of derision up and down her.
Squaring her shoulders, Isobel’s eyes locked with his defiantly. “I’m going to break in and get the documentation I know exists.” She knew that if he took it into his head, he could quite easily throw her over his shoulder and carry her back to Havistock Hall.