Candice Hern (48 page)

Jack was filled with gratitude and relief to hear his mother laugh once again and to see her smiling and happy as she chattered on about the wedding. Everything was going to be all right now.

Bless you, Mary.

Chapter 14

Mary had fallen in love with Pemworth. As she strolled along its shoreline with Jack, she was more happy than she could say that it was to be her home. Over the last week or more she had ridden and walked over most of the estate with Jack, discovering, through his eyes, all the unique beauties of the South Devon coast. She found the setting of Pemworth fascinating in its diversity—its northern approach lush with laurel, beech, and lime, and its southern gardens dropping off suddenly to the sea below. Gentle coves alternated with rugged cliffs and caves along the shoreline, where one could still find remains of prehistoric creatures embedded in the rock. Jack had once led Mary along a narrow hawthorn-lined path to an isolated hill where a stone circle stood mysteriously silhouetted against the sun. She had loved it all and would be happy to spend the rest of her days exploring the area.

Mary had also spent a great deal of time with the marchioness, of whom she had grown extremely fond, learning about the workings of the house as well as its history. She had been particularly pleased to discover a large music room tucked away in a seldom used portion of the east wing. It was obvious that the room and its contents—including pianoforte, harpsichord, clavichord, harp, and other assorted instruments from the previous century—had also seen little use, most pieces either covered in Holland cloths or layers of dust. It seemed the more recent generations of Raeburns had had little interest in music. The marchioness, a dabbler by her own admission, was excited to learn that Mary would be able to bring the joy of music back to the old Hall. Mary was no less excited by the prospect of making use of such fine old instruments, but thought to add a new Broadmore to the collection as well.

During her time spent with the marchioness, Mary also learned a great deal more about Jack through her eyes. He, along with her two granddaughters, was all the poor woman had left, and she doted on him. It was just as clear that he doted on her as well. He was so gentle and solicitous with her, as he was with his two nieces. The entire family had suffered so, and they all looked to Jack for reassurance, for security, for comfort. Mary looked over at Jack as he guided her down a narrow path to a secluded cove, and wondered that he didn't crumble beneath all that responsibility.

Even with so many family and estate matters on his mind, he still found time to be attentive to Mary. She had begun to believe that he truly desired her to be happy and comfortable at Pemworth, that perhaps he did have some affection for her after all. It was her fondest hope, for she no longer denied her own feelings. If she had fallen in love with Pemworth, so had she fallen in love with its master—completely, irrevocably, hopelessly in love.

It was only a few hours earlier when this realization had come upon her quite unexpectedly. After Mary was given a tour of the larders, kitchen gardens, and greenhouses by Lady Pemerton and Mrs. Taggert, Jack had asked her to meet him near one of the fish ponds secluded among the rear gardens—a favorite spot of his. As she approached through a narrow opening in the yew hedge, she stopped as she saw Jack kneeling at the side of the pond next to young Sophie. They appeared to be involved in an intense conversation, judging from the serious look on the little girl's face, and Mary had been reluctant to intrude. As she watched, Jack smiled broadly and reached for a sketchbook lying next to Sophie. He removed a blank sheet and began to fold it, turn it, fold it again, and yet again, and within minutes he had created a miniature sailboat. Sophie laughed and clapped her hands together, fairly bouncing with glee. It was the first time Mary had seen the little girl so much as smile.

"Your papa taught me to make these," he said to Sophie as he handed her the tiny paper boat. He looked warily at the little girl as she turned the boat over and over, examining its clever construction. "He loved boats, you know. All kinds of boats." His gaze softened as Sophie smiled up at him, and Mary realized what he was doing. He did not want his niece to have a fear of boats as a result of what had happened to her father and brother.

"He and your Uncle Freddie and I used to sneak away from our tutor to go sailing." He grinned at Sophie's look of patent disbelief that her father would have done anything so naughty. "Sometimes, when there wasn't time to hike down to the shore and launch a skiff, or when we were afraid of being caught, we would escape here and have paper boat races on the pond." Sophie's blue eyes widened, and a small hand flew to her mouth as she giggled. "Shall we see how seaworthy this one is?"

Sophie nodded her head, and Jack guided her hand to gently position the tiny boat on the pond. It bobbed precariously for a moment, then righted itself and floated calmly before them. Sophie giggled with delight.

"Shall we give her a skipper?" he asked. When Sophie looked puzzled, Jack plucked a nearby dandelion and tucked it into one of the folds of the boat.

"Captain Dandelion!" Sophie exclaimed, and both niece and uncle laughed boisterously.

When Jack let go, a sudden breeze swept the tiny boat toward the center of the pond. "Oh, famous!" Sophie exclaimed, bouncing on her knees with childish enthusiasm as the paper boat bent with the breeze and skittered across the surface of the pond. She and Jack laughed and cheered it on for a few more moments until the little boat became lodged against a clump of reeds and came to a halt. Sophie was momentarily disappointed, but generally pleased with the whole operation.

Mary, delighted and touched by Jack's thoughtful attention to the wan-faced, solemn little girl, was at that point about to emerge from the yew hedge and make her presence known, when Sophie stopped laughing and turned toward Jack with her more usual grave expression.

"Will you teach me how to make a paper boat?" she asked in a tentative voice.

"Indeed, I will," Jack replied, smiling at his niece before kissing her on the cheek. "Your papa would insist on adding such an important skill to your list of accomplishments. Perhaps we can meet here again tomorrow. Just now I am promised to Mary. We are to take a skiff into the cove—"

"You're going sailing?" Sophie asked, her eyes huge with alarm.

"Yes, we—"

"But you can't!" Sophie wailed.

Suddenly, she was sobbing uncontrollably and Jack pulled her small body onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her. Mary had almost rushed forward then, moved by the little girl's distress, but checked herself. Sophie would probably not appreciate a virtual stranger witnessing her private anguish. She stayed where she was, hidden by the yew hedge, feeling intrusive and helpless.

"What is it, sweetheart?" Jack asked at last in a soothing voice. "What has upset you so?"

Sophie turned her red, tear-stained face up to his. "If you go sailing, you'll die," she said in a tremulous voice.

Jack hugged her close, and Mary caught the suspicious glint of moisture in his eyes. "No, no, sweetheart," he said, rocking Sophie in his arms. "I promise you, I won't die. What happened to your papa and Jason was an accident." He pulled away and tilted Sophie's quivering chin up to look at him. "Do you understand, Sophie? It was an accident."

"No, it wasn't," Sophie said in a petulant voice. "I overheard Old Crook tell Tommy Hopkins that the sea had a hunger for Raeburn men."

Jack visibly flinched, a glint of anger darkening his eyes momentarily, but he said nothing while Sophie continued.

"The sea swallowed up Papa and Grandpapa and Uncle Freddie and Jason because it particularly likes Raeburn men. It will swallow you up, too, Uncle Jack, and then there will be no Raeburn men left at all." She began to sob again and buried her face in Jack's shoulder.

Jack held her head against him and gently stroked her dark curls. "Sweetheart," he said softly, "Old Crook did not mean it literally. It was just a figure of speech. Do you understand what that means?"

When Sophie shook her head without looking up, Jack explained about figures of speech, and also about why Old Crook had made such a remark. He told her about two colorful Raeburn ancestors who had been lost at sea centuries before, but also recounted lively tales of a string of Raeburn men who had lived their lives out to natural ends. A few of the stories had even elicited a tentative smile from Sophie. After a few more minutes, she had quieted and seemed to accept Jack's explanation that last year's tragedy had in fact been a freak accident, and not something preordained by the Fates. After further discussion he had promised Sophie that, just to be on the safe side, he would not take Mary out on the cove just yet. Sophie seemed satisfied with that capitulation. She threw her thin arms around Jack's neck.

"I love you, Uncle Jack," she said, and then pulled away and looked at him again with that serious expression of hers. "And so did Papa. I know, 'cause whenever Mama used to say mean things about you, he got real mad. Sometimes Mama would call you a 'shameless liverteen'—I never knew what that meant, but I knew it was mean 'cause Papa always yelled at her for saying it He would say, 'Jack's the best of us, Alicia, and don't you forget it.' You
are
the best, Uncle Jack. I love you."

Jack hugged the little girl tightly and whispered something in her ear.

I love you, too, Jack
, Mary thought as she brushed away a tear. There would be no more equivocating with herself. She could no longer deny the truth of her feelings. She loved him. This moment of profound realization had crept upon her quietly, not like the thunderbolt she would have expected. It was akin to the dawning of understanding when one resolved the answer to a riddle or mathematical problem: simple, clear, and right—a truth that had existed all along but had to be discovered. She loved him.

When Jack rose to take his leave, Mary blinked furiously and then walked slowly toward the pond. She offered a bright and affectionate greeting to Sophie, and the little girl shyly smiled in acknowledgment, then stood, picked up her sketchpad and excused herself as she returned to the Hall. Mary smiled and took Jack's arm, and they strolled together in companionable silence over the headlands before descending carefully along the crumbling sandstone to the gentle cove below. Jack seemed pensive after his encounter with Sophie, and Mary left him to his own thoughts while hers were filled with new respect and admiration for this remarkable man she was coming to know and love so well.

Jack took her hand as they walked along the hard sandy beach. "See that small opening in the bluff just over there?" he asked, pointing with his other hand toward the red sandstone cliffside up ahead. "You would never guess, but it actually disguises a very large and impressive cave."

"Really?" Mary squinted, trying to make out the entrance, but saw little more than a dark fold in the cliff. "How fascinating. Did you play there as a child?"

"No, we were never allowed near it. You see"—he leaned toward her and lowered his voice conspiratorially—"it has always been used by smugglers to temporarily store their contraband."

"Smugglers? Oh, how wonderful!" Mary said with genuine excitement, being intrigued by such a romantical notion. "Tell me more! Were the Raeburns involved? But, of course, they must have been, this being Raeburn property and all. Oh, do tell me, Jack. Were your ancestors gentlemen smugglers?"

Jack looked at her and flashed a sheepish grin. "My grandfather, I am told, was very much involved with the free traders. There are additional caverns, you see, running from the cellars at the Hall, and it is said they were often used as a means of escape whenever the prevention men showed up." He helped Mary over a large, jutting rock, and turned to look back at the cave entrance. "And do you recall the little pavilion along the headlands path, with the great lantern suspended from its roof?" Mary nodded. "Well, it is said Grandfather built it for the sole purpose of providing a signal point for the free traders' vessels, to alert them when it was safe to enter the cove."

"That pretty little pavilion?" Mary laughed. "And I thought it a mere garden folly."

"As you were meant to think."

"Is it still used?" Mary asked. "For signaling, I mean?"

Jack did not immediately respond, and Mary began to wonder if she had not intruded on some very private business.

"Not that I know of," Jack said, obviously choosing his words carefully. "I suspect my father may have been involved with the local gentlemen in some way, though I have never known for certain. As a younger son, I was less in his confidence about such things than James might have been."

"And you are going to tell me that you were never involved?" Mary asked with amused disbelief.

"Well..." Jack hesitated and kicked at the sand. "Freddie and I once—on a dare, you understand—acted as lookouts during one particular shipment." When Mary chuckled with delight, he smiled and continued. "We were very young, you know, and it was only just that once."

Mary threw back her head and laughed. When Jack glared at her with mock outrage, she laughed harder. "To think," she said, still chuckling, "that a notorious rogue such as yourself should be embarrassed by a little smuggling!"

Suddenly, he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her close against his chest.

"You mock me, woman," he said in a seductive whisper. "You must pay the price for such insolence."

He did not move for a long moment, his black hair falling rakishly over one brow, his eyes boring into Mary's with an intensity that had her almost dizzy with anticipation before he finally lowered his lips to hers.

Instantly, a kind of fire ignited between them. Jack did not offer the slow, gentle exploration of lips she had come to expect, but instead plundered her mouth in a wildly sensuous assault that caused Mary's knees almost to buckle. She sensed a hunger in him she had never felt before, and the implications of that hunger sent her heart soaring. She wrapped herself more tightly around him, delirious with love and desire.