If You Were Mine (3 page)

Isobel
awoke with a soft cry, tears streaming steadily down her face as
the enormity of her situation swept through her.

“
Oh Dominic,
why
?” Her lament was absorbed by the cushion of grass beneath
her as she succumbed to the sobs bubbling within. She knew there
would be no answer because there never was.

She
thought she had come to know him, but had clearly been made a fool
of.

It had
been horrific enough to learn of her brother being slain during a
fierce battle with the smugglers he and Dominic had been sent to
vanquish, but to learn of Dominic’s heartless betrayal mere days
after her brother’s death had left her with more questions than
answers. Had his friendship with her brother meant nothing to him?
Had the man never heard of loyalty?

Clearly
not because he had reneged on every promise he had given her,
except one. He had remained safe while her brother Peter had not.
She had learnt from Aunt Elspeth that only a few days after his
departure with Peter, on their supposedly secret mission against
the smugglers in Norfolk, he had returned to his father’s estate in
Berkshire and wed a woman he had apparently been betrothed to for
some time.

In her
innocence, Isobel had waited for him. She had believed his promises
and had willingly accepted him into her heart and body, blindly
believing his assurances with a heart full of hope and joyful
anticipation.

She had
blithely ignored the change in his demeanour on the day of his
departure and had worried for his safety for weeks, only to learn
of his cruel betrayal in the worst possible way. Before he had
left, he had made it clear that had not wanted her to write to him,
and had left no direction for her to make contact. Nor had he made
any promises to write to her or send any word whatsoever. A
circumstance she had accepted without question. At least now she
understood why he had been so vaguely distant.

Her
thoughts immediately turned to the day her uncle had reappeared in
her life. Already distraught with being informed of Peter’s demise,
she was numb with disbelief when he had poured scorn upon her
tears, casting her as a foolish addle-brained girl with no
prospects and no suitors prepared to take her on. Cruelly finding
humour in her distress, he had imparted the news of Dominic’s
recent marriage to another with a sense of satisfaction that was
clear to see. She had listened with only half an ear as her uncle
had ranted that her own wild mannered, eccentric family had
rendered her unattractive to anyone other than the most heartless
rogue, who was after everything she could give without taking her
to wife. She, stupid girl whom she was, would undoubtedly have
given him everything. He had railed at her with such derision in
his face that Isobel had flinched at the surge of humiliation that
swept through her.

Rupert’s
tirade had seemed endless as he had poured equal scorn upon her
aunt for encouraging such wanton behaviour, before sweeping a
devastated Isobel from the house. There had barely been enough time
to pack anything before she had been so cruelly ripped from her
aunt’s care and Willowbrook Hall, her home. In her grief, she had
not had the will to protest, and had meekly followed her uncle’s
direction without question.

After
several moments of indulgent weeping, Isobel swiped the dampness
from her cheeks as she stood on the tree line of the wooded glade.
It felt as though she was in the middle of nowhere. With the first
stain of sunlight breaking over the horizon, she contemplated her
situation before slowly resumed her onward journey, trying
desperately to ignore the growing sense of helpless isolation that
increased with each passing mile.

Whatever
the future held for her, she could not go back now. She had the
remaining days of summer warmth in which to travel, and knew that
if she was to survive, she needed to make the most of them. If she
kept off the roads and away from the villages, she had every chance
of succeeding in her quest. Life wouldn’t be as cruel as to send
her back to Rupert, would it?

She had
only a few meagre coins in her pocket. Certainly not enough to get
her through the winter, but she wasn’t afraid to work for her keep.
Indeed, she had thoroughly enjoyed the few times she had been
allowed down into the kitchens to make jam and tarts with Cook. She
had no fear of hard work. But how she was to go about persuading
anyone to employ her without references; she wasn’t sure. She now
understood why Kitty had sent her to her cousin’s house. They would
surely know the best way she should go about trying to maintain her
independence, at least for the immediate future.

Briefly,
she wondered how Kitty had managed, and if indeed she was far
behind her, or whether she too was locked in the gloomy depths of
the house that had become her prison. She quickly stifled the
wayward thoughts that meandered in the direction of Dominic, and
his residence on his country estate in Melton, firmly eschewing all
notions of happening by his marital home.

It was
one thing to learn of his heartless betrayal, quite another to see
the woman who had claimed his heart and his protection, in the
flesh.

Thoughtfully pondering the ramifications of her flight,
Isobel resolutely trudged onwards along the daring new path her
life had taken.

CHAPTER TWO

Two Months Later

Leicestershire

“
We will have revenge,” Dominic declared softly, staring
sightlessly down at the rectangle of recently dug earth before
them, his heart a leaden weight within his chest. The earth had
been dug only a few weeks before, yet weeds and grass had already
nearly covered the soil. “He will pay for what he has done.” He
shot his friend a darkly menacing look.

Raw pain
lanced through him as he watched Peter rhythmically tug at the
myriad of weeds, slowly twisting their mangled path around the
simple wooden cross marking her final resting place. Isobel.
Peter’s sister, and the woman Dominic wanted as his wife. He adored
her.

Dominic
settled down onto the wet grass beside the grave, oblivious to the
increasing wind and driving rain, and allowed himself to think back
to their time together.

Peter
had introduced them several months earlier, when Dominic had
finally been in a position to accept his friend’s invitation to
visit. Having met fighting the French on the horrific battlefields,
Dominic had quickly found a friend in Peter, and had listened to
his frequent reminiscences of Isobel’s exploits. It had been an
attempt by both men to briefly escape the death and destruction
surrounding them. The mental image he had built up of his stalwart
friend’s intriguing sibling had tempted and teased Dominic,
haunting his dreams to such an extent that despite his
battle-hardened cynicism, he found himself almost eager to make her
acquaintance upon their return to England.

Unfortunately, his visit to Willowbrook, her home, had been
delayed by the demise of his uncle, who had bequeathed Dominic his
somewhat failing estates. They had taken considerable time to
resolve sufficiently to allow Dominic the time to take an extended
visit to Oxfordshire. In the intervening time since his return from
the war, Dominic’s family had frequently hinted that they expected
him to find himself a suitable wife and establish his nursery
without delay.

When he
was eventually able to accept Peter’s invitation, he was stunned to
discover Peter hadn’t done his sister any justice at all. He hadn’t
described her rosebud lips, the teasing glint in her periwinkle
blue eyes, or the delicate curls in the luxurious mass of jet-black
hair she usually tried, and failed, to keep confined in a bun at
the nape of her slender neck. Her gentle, somewhat eccentric nature
and infinitesimal charm made her without doubt, the most
captivating woman Dominic had met for some considerable time. Her
slightly wilful nature had intrigued rather than offended him,
until he found it increasingly difficult to be parted from her for
any length of time.

Thankfully, her brother Peter hadn’t been averse to Dominic’s
interest in his sister and although not outwardly encouraging a
union, had ensured the couple had been allowed sufficient time
alone together to get to know each other. Dominic had remained at
Willowbrook with Peter and Isobel for several weeks, before the
pressing need to return to his own estate in Melton had driven him
to take his leave. It had been somewhat surprising to him to
discover how much of a wrench it was to leave her behind. It had
been even more of a shock to learn how miserable he was without her
sunny smiles and gentle humour to brighten his day. Once at Melton,
he had held out for as long as possible before he had sought an
excuse to make a return journey to see her.

Over the
course of several months, Dominic had visited Willowbrook, and
Isobel numerous times with an eagerness that had grown rather than
diminished. When the occasion didn’t warrant a visit to
Willowbrook, Dominic had sought excuses to visit his uncle who
resided a few miles away. Luckily this put him in the same locale
as Isobel, and meant that he could afford her the time she needed
to get to know him, and become accustomed to their growing
relationship, hopefully without the need for him to throw himself
upon his knees at her feet to beg for her hand.

If only
he had known then what he knew now. He should have thrown himself
upon his knees and begged for her mercy at the first opportunity.
He should have sought her acceptance of his proposal before leaving
her for Norfolk. Instead of following the dictates of his mission
for the Prince Regent, he should have waited even a couple of days
and rushed through a hasty marriage before leaving her within the
safe confines of Havistock Hall under the protection of his staff.
If he had, she would most certainly be alive now, and would not
have spent the last weeks of her life at the hands of her
merciless, despot uncle.

In a
cruel twist of irony, the certain knowledge that if they had only
been a few weeks earlier, she would have been alive, lay like a
heavy weight in his heart. She would not have been driven to run
for her life, into the darkness of the night, to face God knows
what.

As he
sat helplessly beside the grave of the woman who owned his soul,
Dominic cursed fate and Rupert Davenport for the cruel grief they
had played upon him.

“
You have to get on with your life Dominic,” Peter muttered,
swiping at the mixture of tears and raindrops upon his own face.
“You cannot allow this to make you bitter.”

Dominic
looked askance at his friend, and shook his head
regretfully.

“
My life now, such as it is, is with her,” he nodded towards
the darkened earth at his feet. “Rupert cannot and will not get
away with this. Not while I have breath in my body Peter. I have to
have vengeance.”

Grief
settled its deathly cloak around his shoulders as he stood beside
the simple grave in the quiet of the rural graveyard. Silence
settled between them, Dominic’s tears mingling with the gentle
pattering of icy raindrops as he gave in to the bleakest emotions
of bitterness and regret he had ever experienced in his life.
Devastation threatened to suck him under.

Struggling to draw a breath against the tightening around his
heart, he longed to roar out his denial of losing her.

“
I should never have left her the way I did,” Dominic bit out,
tilting his head back to look at the darkened clouds ahead. The
swirling myriad of cold greys matched the icy bleakness in his
heart. He was vaguely aware of Peter rising to his feet to stand
beside him.

They
were almost equal in height as they stood shoulder to shoulder
beside the newly dug earth for several moments, each lost in their
own thoughts.

“
Do you know where he has gone?” Dominic asked, his voice
shaking with barely concealed emotion.

“
No, but we will find out,” Peter replied softly, lost in his
own quiet contemplation.

“
She needs a proper gravestone,” Dominic dropped to one knee,
and slowly trailed a gentle finger around one arm of the roughly
carved cross. “Why did they bury her so quickly?”

“
I don’t know, but I have sent word to the Magistrate to meet
us here. I want answers. She cannot stay in such a desolate place.
This isn’t where she belongs. She needs to go back to Willowbrook
Hall, and be interred in the family crypt with Father and Mother,”
Peter replied, staring sightlessly at the ground at his
feet.

As soon
as events in Norfolk had been tied up and both men free to leave,
they had immediately set out for Willowbrook, only to find Elspeth
in great distress and the house staff in terrified confusion. Some
weeks earlier, Isobel had been removed from their aunt’s care by
her Uncle Rupert, who had claimed the guardianship by issuing
threats and insults. Aunt Elspeth hadn’t been certain about their
destination, but had been subjected to having her objections
soundly squashed by a condescending Rupert, who had threatened her
with outright violence should she take steps to block Isobel’s
removal from the house.

The last
Elspeth had seen of Isobel had been a brief tearful good-bye before
Isobel had been bundled into an unmarked carriage and quickly
driven off. Nobody has heard anything from her since then.
Elspeth’s clear distress had been heightened by the arrival of
Peter, whom Elspeth had believed to have been murdered by the
lawless smugglers he had gone to help capture. Shock had quickly
turned to outrage at Rupert’s callous duplicity, and the weight of
lies he had clearly told everyone to secure her compliance in her
own kidnap.