Lost Lady (James River Trilogy 2)

“Now wait just a minute! If I remember correctly, you came flying at me from out of the dark last night, and when I tried to help you up, you practically leaped into my arms. That’s not the action of anyone I’d consider a lady. And as for last night,

you didn’t think what I did was so horrible when you were pulling my hair and running your feet up and down my legs.”

Dropping her jaw in sheer horror at his words, Regan could only blink at him.

“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say anything to shock you, but I want you to get your facts straight. Had I known you were a virgin and not a street girl, I wouldn’t have touched you. But we can’t change the facts. I did touch you, and now you’re my responsibility.”

“I…most certainly am not your responsibility. I assure you I can take care of myself.”

“Like you did last night?” he asked, lifting one eyebrow. “It’s a good thing you ran into me, or there’s no telling what could have happened to you.”

Moments passed before Regan could speak. “Is there no end to your arrogance or your insufferability? There was nothing good in meeting you, and I now know I was better off on the streets than locked away with a mad, despicable ravisher of women such as you are, sir!”

The corners of Travis’s eyes crinkled as he broke into a dazzling smile. Running his hand through his dark hair, he chuckled, “My, my. I believe I’ve been cursed by an English lady.” As his eyes roamed over her bare shoulders, he smiled at her. “You know, I rather think I like you.”

“But I do not care for you,” Regan said, exasperated at his ignorance and lack of understanding.

“Let me introduce myself. I am Travis Stanford from Virginia, and I am pleased to make your acquaintance.” He held out his hand to her.

Crossing her arms over her chest, Regan looked away. Perhaps if she ignored him and was rude to him, he would allow her to go.

“All right,” Travis said, rising. “Have it your way, but we will get something straight between us. I am not going to release you onto the Liverpool docks by yourself. Either you tell me where you live and who takes care of you, or you remain locked in this room.”

“You can’t do that! You have no right!”

He towered over her, his face serious. “Last night I earned the right. We Americans take our responsibilities seriously, and last night you became my charge—at least until I find out who your true guardian is.”

As he finished dressing, he watched her in the mirror, trying to puzzle out her reasons for not telling him who she was. When he had his coat on, he leaned over her. “I’m trying to do what’s right for you,” he said softly.

“And who gave you the right to decide what was good or bad for people you don’t even know?”

Chuckling deep in his throat, Travis replied, “You’re beginning to sound like my little brother. How about a kiss before I go? If I find your guardian, it may be our last moment alone together.”

“I hope I never see you again!” she spat. “I hope you fall into the sea and no one ever sees you again. I hope—.”

He cut her off as he lifted her out of the bed, one arm behind her back, and the other pushing the sheet from between them. As his hand caressed the soft, peachy flesh of her hip and thigh, his mouth touched hers. Gently, ever so gently, he kissed her, careful not to frighten her or to be too harsh with her.

For a moment Regan pushed at him with her hands, but his big hands on her body, and the sheer power of him as he pulled her to him were overwhelmingly exciting. It surprised her that such an arrogant bully of a man could be so gentle.

Putting her arms around his neck, she turned her head to one side as her hands lost themselves in his hair.

Travis was the first to pull away. “I’m beginning to hope I don’t find your guardian. You make an awful nice armful.”

As her arm went back to strike him, he laughed and held it, kissing her knuckles one by one. “It was only a wish. Now, you stay here and be a good girl, and I’ll bring you a pretty dress when I get back.”

She heard him laugh when the pillow she threw hit the door as he closed it behind him. The key turning in the lock sounded as if chains had been clamped to her ankles.

The awesome silence was nearly deafening as Regan sat, stunned, and gazed sightlessly at the big room. For a while she couldn’t believe that she wasn’t at home in her own blue bedroom, that Matta wasn’t going to bring her chocolate at any moment. Instead, in the last few hours her world had crumbled about her ears. She’d heard the man she loved say that he didn’t want to marry her and her only relative admit that he cared nothing for her. And now, worst of all, her virtue was gone and she was held prisoner by some savage American. Prisoner, she thought. She hadn’t known it, but she’d been a prisoner all her life, held in a gilded cage of a pretty garden and a rundown house.

As these thoughts went through her mind, she began to look about the room. There was a large window along one wall, and it occurred to her that perhaps she could do something about her imprisonment this time. If she could escape, then surely she could find help, perhaps someone to take her in or to employ her. At that thought, she stopped. What could she do? How in the world could she earn her keep for five years until she came into her inheritance? The only thing she was really good at was growing flowers. Perhaps….

No, Regan, she cautioned herself. Now is not the time to run off on a tangent. First she must escape and show this boorish Colonial that he could not kidnap an Englishwoman and have her remain docilely in custody.

Once out of bed, she realized that her first problem was clothes. A trunk stood in one corner of the room, but a quick examination showed it to be locked.

At a knock on the door, she jumped and had only time to slip into Travis’s shirt before a rosy-cheeked, plump girl entered bearing a heavy tray of food.

“Mr. Travis said I was to bring you food and a bath if you want it,” the girl said nervously, her eyes searching the room, her back firmly against the closed door.