Excerpt of Silk and Steel by Kat Martin

Chapter One

Lady Kathryn Grayson slipped silently into the
shadowsbehind the door of the old stone stable. She
shivered, hertattered, dirty night rail little protection
against the chill,the straw on the cold dirt floor
scratchy beneath the solesof her bare feet. At the front
of the stable, she could seea skinny, freckle-faced groom
and the gleaming black ofan expensive traveling carriage.

Creeping closer to the door, she saw that the
conveyancewas ready to depart and that it bore the gilded
crestof a nobleman—the head of a wolf above a silver
sword.Two footmen stood in conversation with the driver a
littleoff to the left and as she listened to their
conversation,her heart began to pound. The carriage wasn't
travelingto London, but preparing for a return to the
country. DearGod, it was headed away from the city! If she
could finda place to hide in it, she would be safe!

Her excitement increased, her breath coming faster,
afrosty mist in the cold morning air. She had to get
awayand the sooner the better. The carriage was the
perfectsolution.

She watched a moment more, surveying the sleek,finely
polished lines of the expensive coach, feeling a wildsurge
of hope. The luggage boot at the rear would work—ifthere
was room for her inside. She prayed there was,took a deep,
steadying breath to calm the tremors runningthrough her,
and prepared to move quickly, before thefootmen returned
to their places aboard. When she heardthe men laughing,
saw that their attention was focused ona pair of barking
dogs, she sprinted for the back of thecarriage, her bare
feet flying over themuddy earth, herdark hair swirling
around her, a mane of tangles thatbrushed against her
shoulders as she raced along.

Jerking up the leather cover, she climbed inside,
settledherself between the trunks and satchels, tried to
calm herfuriously beating heart, and said a fervent prayer
that nomore luggage would be added before the coach
departed.

Seconds passed. Her pulse rang in her ears. Thoughthe
morning was chill, sweat dampened the hair at hertemples
and trickled down her sides. She heard the menapproaching,
taking their places on top of the carriage.She felt it dip
and sway with their weight, then the fourmatched blacks
strained against their traces and the carriagerolled off
toward the front of the inn.

It paused only briefly, long enough for its single
passengerto climb aboard and settle himself against
theleather squabs. Then the driver whipped up the team
andthey were off.

Hidden safely in the luggage boot, Kathryn breathed
asigh of relief and allowed her weary body to slump
againstthe black laquered wood. She was tired. So
terribly, incrediblytired. The night had been exhausting.
Running,then walking for miles in nothing but her dirty
nightgown,her legs aching, her feet cut and bleeding,
terrifed all thewhile that they would find her. When she
stumbled upona road and the ivy-covered inn, she'd said a
prayer ofthanks and carefully made her way to the stable
at therear.

Several hours later, asleep in a pile of straw,
she'dawakened to the jangle of harness and the luffing of
horsesas they were led into their traces. Kathryn had
known inan instant that this was her chance to get safely
away.

Now, as the cool fall day began to warm, heating
thespace in the back of the carriage, her fired muscles
relaxedand she began to doze. She slept off and on,
awakenedonce when the carriage paused at a roadside tavern
latein the afternoon and its occupant departed, probably
for abite to eat. Kathryn ignored the rumble in her
stomachthat notion brought and relaxed once more as the
coachresumed its journey, too tired to even notice when
thewheels jarred into the ruts in the road.

The hours dragged past. Her legs were cramped in
thetight confines of the luggage boot. Her back and
shouldersached, and a dull pain nagged at the back of her
neck. Asthe coach rolled along, she was almost grateful
she hadn'thad anything to eat or drink, since there was no
possibleway she could stop to relieve herself.

The rhythm of the carriage heightened her need
forsleep. Her head slumped forward onto her chest, her
slumberdeepened, and Kathryn started to dream.

She was back at St. Bartholomew's Hospital, huddledon
the cold stone floor of her dingy, airless cell.
Fearsurrounded her like a heavy morning mist, making
herthroat feel tight, and she eased farther into the
corner,pressing her back against the rough gray walls,
wishingshe could disappear inside them. Along the row of
cells,she could hear the other inmates and her hands crept
up,covering her ears to block the screams, pretending
shecouldn't hear them.

Her heart beat raggedly, pounding into the silence
shecreated inside her head. Dear God, she was living in
hellitself, or at least man's version of it. What demon
hadfashioned such a place? How much longer could she
endureit? The sound of footfalls traveled toward her,
therattle of chains as the guards approached, leading
somepoor unfortunate back to his cell.

Or perhaps they were coming for her.

Kathryn sank down, curling into herself, wishing
shecould disappear. She had eluded them for a time,
beensilent and docile enough they had left her alone.
Butsooner or later they would come for her as they had
theothers.

The footsteps grew louder. Her heart beat with
fear.Sweet God, don't let it be me. Someone else. Anyone
else.Not me! Not me! She saw them then, one tall and
heavythrough the shoulders, with thick lips and dirty
blond hairqueued back from his face with a thin piece of
leather,The other was short and fleshy, his stomach
protrudingover course brown breeches stained with grease.

Kathryn fought back a sob as they paused at the doorto
her cell, a pair of heavy iron shackles draped over thefat
man's arm.

Through the bars in the door, he flashed her a
lecherousgrin. "Evenin' missy. Time for us to take a
little stroll."

"Nooo!" She began to back away, desperate now, hereyes
darting around for any means of escape. She knewwhat they
wanted, what they'd done to some of the otherwomen. She'd
escaped them until now, though she wasn'tquite sure
why. "Leave me alone! Get away from me! I'mwarning you—go
away and leave me be!"

The taller man merely grinned, but the fat man
laughedout loud, a harsh, cruel, bitter sound that sent
chills downKathryn's spine—and jerked her from her dream.

Her heart was pounding, her nightgown damp with
perspirationand clinging to her body. She tilted her
headback against the wall of the luggage boot and
remindedherself the dream wasn't real—not anymore. By
Somemiracle of fate—or perhaps divine intervention—she
hadtricked the two vicious guards, escaped the end they
hadin store for her, and managed to flee St. Bart's.

Kathryn forced herself not to think of it, to bury it
deepinside and dwell instead on keeping her hard-won
freedom.She was free of the hospital, free of the
madhouseshe had been locked up in for nearly a year.

For the moment it was all she wanted, all she
couldthink of. The future loomed ahead, but there would
betime to plan, to decide what to do. If only she could
keepfrom getting caught.

She slept again. She had no idea how many hours
hadpassed when she was awakened with a fierce jerk on
herarm that tumbled her forward Out of the carriage.
Shewould have landed in the mud if a second footman
hadn'tcaught her other arm, hauling her upright with a
roughjerk that snapped her head back.

"Let me go!" Kathryn struggled against him, trying
tobreak his solid hold. "Get your hands off me!"

"It's a bleedin' stowaway!" one of the men called
out,wrapping an arm around her waist and forcing her
backagainst his chest. "More than likely, the chit's a
thief." Atthe word, Kathryn kicked him hard in the shins
and hejerked backward, knocking his silver wig askew.
Heswore and cuffed the back of her head. "Bloody beggar—
dothat again and ye'll be sorry."

Kathryn straightened, "Hit me again and I promise
you,sir, it is you who will be sorry."

"All right, that's enough." The deep voice cut
throughthe melee and both men instantly went still. For
the firsttime Kathryn noticed the tall, imposing man who
stoodin the shadows, the owner of the carriage, she
presumed.He was dressed in tight black breeches, a long
black tailcoatand matching waistcoat with a fine silver
thread. Thefrill on his snowy cambric shirt showed through
the front,and a bit of white lace hung from each sleeve.
His skinwas dark, his hair even darker and slightly wavy,
queuedback with a broad black ribbon tied in a spreading
bow.

"Let the girl go, Cedric. She seems quite able to
talk.Give her a chance to speak."

They did so with some regret, releasing her arms
andtaking a single Step backward.

"What's your name?" the tall man asked. "And whatthe
devil are you doing in the back of my carriage?"

Kathryn squared her shoulders, trying not to think
whata miserable picture she made in her filthy, dirt-
stainednightgown, her hair a dark mass of tangles around
herface. She summoned the lie she had concocted for
justsuch a moment, the words tumbling past her lips
withsurprising ease.

"My name is Kathryn Gray and I tell you this, sir, Iam
not a beggar—nor am I a thief. I'm a gently rearedlady who
has encountered an unfortunate bit of trouble.If you are
indeed the gentleman you appear, I pray thatyou will help
me."

His black brows drew together over eyes that
wereequally black. In the last rays of late afternoon
sunlight,they seemed to glint with silver. He surveyed her
fromtop to bottom, taking in every inch of her seedy
appearance,his gaze so intense her arms unconsciously came
upto cross over her breasts.

"Come into the house. We can speak in my study."

She was surprised at his acquiescence. She was
filthyfrom the top of her greasy, unwashed hair to the
soles ofher cold bare feet. God knew she must carry the
foulstench of the madhouse in every pore. Steering
herself,ignoring the disbelieving looks of the footmen,
she followedhim into the house, which was actually a
hugestone castle that had been added onto over the years.
Shestopped just inside the entry.

"I appreciate your courtesy, my lord, but there is
afavor I would beg."

"You have yet to explain yourself and already you aska
boon? Whoever you are, you are not one to mincewords. What
is it you wish?"

"A bath, my lord. I can hardly discuss my
circumstances,filthy as I am and indecently dressed. If
youwould allow me to bathe and borrow a change of
clothing,I am certain we would both be more comfortable."

He studied her for long moments, weighing her
words,contrasting her educated speech against her ragged
appearance.Kathryn studied him in return, noting the well-
definedangles of his face, his broad-shouldered, narrow-
hippedbuild. He was a handsome man, she saw, but therewas
a hardness about him, an appearance of iron-hard willthat
warned her to beware.

"All right, Miss Gray, you shall have your bath."
Heturned to the long-nosed butler who stood just a few
feetaway. "Summon Mrs. Pendergass, Reeves. Have her seeto
the lady's needs then return her downstairs."

He turned back to Kathryn. "I shall await your
presencein my study." His dark eyes sharpened. "And I
warnyou, Miss Gray, should your tale be anything but the
truth,you will find yourself tossed out like so much
rubbish.Do I make myself clear?"

A slight chill slid through her. "Yes, my lord.
Perfectlyclear." He nodded and turned to leave. "My lord?"

An exasperated sigh whispered out. "Yes, Miss Gray?"

"I'm afraid I don't know your name."

His brow hiked up. He made an extravagant
bow. "LucienRaphael Montaine, fifth Marquess of
Litchfield, atyour service." A mocking half-smile curved
his lips."Welcome to Castle Running."

He turned and walked away and this time she did
notstop him. The housekeeper, Mrs. Pendergass, appeared
afew moments later, and she was ushered to an
elegantbedchamber upstairs. Ignoring the buxom woman's
disapprovingglare, she made her way behind the screen
andrelieved herself with a sigh.

Feeling better, she walked over to the window to
awaither bath. From there she could see down into the
courtyard.The castle was magnificent, centuries old, with
crenellatedtowers and a goodly portion of the outer wall
stillintact around what must have once been the bailey.

The house itself was immaculately well cared for,
thebedchamber she occupied done in royal-blue and
ivoryaccented with elegant oriental pieces. She couldn't
faultthe marquess's taste.

The housekeeper's voice broke into her thoughts."Your
bath has arrived. I don't know who you are or howyou
managed to foist yourself off on his lordship, but Iwould
advise you not to try to take advantage. His charitystems
from kindness not weakness. You would do well toremember
that."

She would remember, all right. One look in those
harddark eyes and she knew he was far from weak.

"I shouldn't tarry, if I were you," the woman
said. "Hislordship would not be pleased." And you do not
wish tosee him angry, were the words she left unspoken.

Kathryn silently heeded the warning, stripping awayher
soiled night rail, grateful it was one of her own
embroideredgowns and not one the hospital issued with
theneck trimmed in a wide band of red. Crossing naked
tothe bath with only a trace of embarrassment, she
climbedinto the steaming copper tub, and sank down with
quietbliss, letting the heat soak into her aching muscles,
thestench and dirt melt away beneath the scent of roses.
Shesmiled as she settled against the metal rim, relishing
thesimple joy that was nothing at all like the monthly
scrubbingsshe had endured at St. Bart's.

Mrs. Pendergass left as she washed her hair with
thefragrant rose-scented soap that had been brought for
heruse, rinsed, then settled back once more. In a moment
shewould dress in whatever borrowed clothing the
housekeepermanaged to scavenge and face the black-
hairedlord. Before she went down she would rehearse the
liethat she had prepared. For now she would allow
herselfthe pure pleasure of simply sitting there in the
warm sudsywater, a pleasure she'd not had for nearly a
year.

Seated behind the wide mahogany desk in his study,
LucienMontaine, Marquess of Litchfield, leaned back in
histufted leather chair. He steepled his fingers, his mind
onthe woman upstairs, in truth, little more than a girl,
certainlyno more than twenty. Dirty and unkempt as shewas,
there was something about her ... something hefound
intriguing. Perhaps it was the way she carded herself—
morelike royalty than the beggar she appeared.

She was taller than the average woman, thinner thanshe
should have been, with dark chestnut hair, and firmlittle
upthrusting breasts her ragged nightgown did littleto
hide. Her speech was certainly that of a lady. He
wonderedwho the devil she was.

A knock at the door distracted him. At his command,the
butler, Preston Reeves, ushered the girl into his
study.Lucien found himself coming to his feet, barely able
tobelieve the woman who stood in front of him was thesame
bedraggled creature who'd been hiding in the backof his
carriage.

Even dressed in the simple white blouse and
browncotton skirt of a servant, there was no doubt she was
alady. The set of her shoulders, the look in her tool
greeneyes, said more than words ever could.

And she was lovely, he saw, her dark brows
softlywinged, her features fine, her nose straight, her
lips fulland perfectly curved. What he hadn't seen beneath
thedirt on her face was more than apparent now, skin
thecolor of honey mixed with cream, soft spots of rose
tintingher cheeks.

"Perhaps you were right, Miss Gray. Your appearanceis
certainly improved. Why don't you sit down and tellme what
this is about?"

She did as he commanded, seating herself in the
chairacross from him, her back ramrod straight, her
handsfolded neatly in front of her. He noticed they looked
roughand slightly reddened, in contrast to the soft
femininity ofthe rest of her. He wondered at the
implication but let itpass, giving her his full attention.

"As I told you, my name is Kathryn Gray. I live in
avillage near Ripon, not far from York. My father is
thevicar of the local parish church. He was away
visitingfriends when I was abducted."

"Abducted?" Lucien leaned forward in his
chair. "Youare saying someone broke into your home and
carted youaway?"

She nodded. "Exactly so, my lord. That is the reasonI
was dressed in my nightclothes. Who they were, wherethey
came from, or why they chose me I couldn't say. Ido know
they had nefarious plans for me."

"Indeed. And just what plans were those?"

The girl cleared her throat but continued to face
himSquarely. "I overheard one of them say they were
takingme to a ... a house of ill repute. Of course, I
didn't knowat first what the man meant ... being the
daughter of avicar and all. But after a while I began to
understand whatthey were talking about. My father had
preached sermonsagainst such places, so I was able to
discern their intentions."

"I see." Something about her story gave him pause,
buthe was fascinated at the cool control with which she
toldit, and under it there was an unmistakable hint of
desperation.Considering her circumstances, assuming she
wastelling the truth, it was amazing she could hide it as
wellas she did. "Go on, Miss Gray."

"The men intended to sell me. I suppose that is
thereason they left my ... my person alone. Apparently
thereis a market for such things."

His mouth curved faintly. "So I've heard." And
shewould certainly have brought a fetching price. For an
instantthe annoying thought arose that he wouldn't
haveminded being a patron at such a house. He would
indeedhave enjoyed a night in the arms of the intriguing
MissGray.

"Fortunately, I escaped," she continued in that
cool,controlled way that made him wonder what emotion
itwas that seethed just below the her surface calm.
Herbreeding was evident in every movement, every
gesture.If she hadn't told him otherwise, he would have
beencertain she was a member of the nobility.

"I ran as far and as fast as I could," she was
saying."I was hiding in the stable when—"

"How?" Lucien broke in. "How did you escape?"

"How?" she squeaked, for the first time unnerved.

"That is what I asked. How did you escape the menwho
abducted you? You are a lady and obviously nomatch for
them. How did you manage to get away?"

Her hands trembled for a moment where she clutchedthem
in her lap. She took a deep breath and straightened,once
more in control. "We'd been traveling for days, stayingin
one foul place after another. The night before wereached
London, we stopped at an inn. One of the men—afat man with
foul breath—dragged me into a room behindthe kitchen. He
and his friend—a tall, thick-shoulderedman with dirty
blond hair—must have decided that theywould ... that they
would ..."

She moistened her lips, her control slipping a
bit. "Thefat man took me into this room while the tall man
waitedoutside. He started swearing, unable to unfasten the
buttonson his breeches. While he was distracted, I hit
himover the head with a chamber pot and escaped out of
thewindow."

Lucien leaned back in his chair. "Very clever."

She nodded. "I was desperate. I had to escape. I
walkedthrough the night and finally ran across the stable
in backof the inn. I was exhausted. I hid in the straw and
for awhile I fell asleep. When I woke up, I saw your-
carriageand ... well, you know the rest."

"Yes, I suppose I do." Lucien stood up from his
chairand rounded the desk, stopping right in front of
her. "I'mgoing to presume, Miss Gray, that you are telling
me thetruth. You are, aren't you?" He looked at her hard
andcould have sworn he saw a slight hesitation.

Then she stood up as well. "I'm telling you the
truth,my lord. And I am asking you, as the gentlemen
youobviously are, to help me."

Lucien pondered that. He had decided to help her
themoment she had walked through the door of his
study,perhaps even before that. "All right, Miss Gray. In
themorning I'll arrange for a carriage to take you home
toyour father. I'll have one of the housemaids
accompanyyou and—"

He felt her hand on his arm. "Please, my lord.
Myfather is not at home and I ... I would be afraid to
returnwhile he is away. Perhaps you could send word to
him,and in the meantime, I could wait here for him to
comeand get me. I realize it is asking a lot but—"

"Is there no one else you can go to for help?"

She shook her head. "Not really. My father will beback
in a few more days. If you would send word, hewould he
happy to come for me."

Lucien watched her closely. He wasn't really sure
howmuch of her story he believed. There was something
incongruousabout the woman in the cartilage, the one in
hisstudy, and the one she had just described. No, he
wasn'tconvinced she was telling the truth, though parts,
at least,were certainly delivered convincingly. Still, as
a gentleman,he was obliged to help a lady in distress—and
therewas no doubt this one was. And the mystery she
posedcontinued to intrigue him.

"Staying here isn't a problem. My aunt will be homein
the morning. She can serve as chaperone. In the
meanwhile,I'll send word to Ripon to your father." He
gaveher a mocking half-smile. "Will that suffice, Miss
Gray?"

"Yes, my lord, it will more than suffice. I shall
beforever in your debt."