Read If You Were Mine Online

Authors: Rebecca King

Tags: #fiction, #romance, #mystery, #historical romance, #regency romance, #historical mystery, #mystery suspense, #mystery action adventure romance

If You Were Mine (5 page)

BOOK: If You Were Mine
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Wishing
he had insisted on details of the current whereabouts, he pondered
the questions lurking in the back of his mind, and the growing
sense of unease about the entire situation, before he considered
the wisdom of revealing the truth.

As he
passed, he glanced towards the small cross in the far corner of the
darkening graveyard, and the empty grave it marked.

 


I don’t believe he has told us everything, do you?” Dominic
asked raising a querying brow at Peter as they rode through the
darkness, toward the soft glow of lights within the small
village.


No, I don’t. He is withholding something,” Peter absently
considered the thickening fog around them.


Do you think he is an associate of Rupert’s? We know that
Rupert was in the area at the same time. All the trails we have
followed so far lead him here at the right time.” Considering what
could have happened to her was, at the moment, keeping Dominic
sane. He had to do something, or he might just go quietly mad. “We
also know that he has not been seen since. He hasn’t been back to
any of his old haunts since the middle of last month.”


When Isobel was kidnapped,” Peter’s breath fogged out before
him. “Someone got to him, I am sure of it, but until we get more
information on Sir Hubert Williams and his associates, we need to
be very careful.”


I won’t give up on this Peter,” Dominic warned. “If he is
involved in any of this, Magistrate or not, he is as duplicitous as
your uncle.” The underlying threat in his voice made the other man
shiver. “Both will pay for their crimes.”

CHAPTER
THREE

 

He had
forgotten it was market day. Cursing fluidly beneath his breath, he
nodded brusquely at the familiar faces who called to him as he rode
through the milling throng along the main street of Melton Mowbray,
one of Leicestershire’s largest market towns.

Dominic
eased his horse, Brutus, amid the cacophony of quacking ducks,
squealing pigs and market traders shouting their wares. He was
oblivious to the stench of manure, straw and unwashed bodies as he
meandered listlessly through the milling crowds. He didn’t really
want to be there at all. He’d only returned home briefly to deal
with several pressing estate matters, before he was departing for
Willowbrook to witness the Isobel’s internment into the family
crypt.

Sucking in a deep breath, he fought the wave of bitter regret
that surged through him when the image of her beautiful face swam
in front of him.
God, he missed
her
. His heart clenched painfully in his
chest, until the physical pain became so acute that he wasn’t sure
he could continue home.

In a
desperate attempt to divert his wayward thoughts away from his
gloomy emotions, he studied the milling crowds. Farmer’s wives
dressed simply in coarse cotton dresses, and starched white aprons,
herded the gaggle of laughing children as they chased an assortment
of noisy animals through the bustling crowd. People milled around
simply chatting, while others darted in and out of the many tiny
shops lining the busy street.

Suddenly
he blinked as a surge of disbelief swept through him. His heart
froze in his chest as he studied the spectre before him.

There!

Was
grief playing tricks upon his mind?

Reigning
Brutus to a stop, he sat perfectly still, his eyes locked so
fixatedly on the cloaked figure approaching the bakery. The colours
and sounds of the street around him disappeared into a numbing
buzz.

He
struggled to absorb what, or rather whom, he was actually
seeing.

Heart
thumping crazily in his chest, and he ignored the curious stares of
the locals to leaned forward in his saddle to get a better look.
His watched closely as the cloaked figure moved hesitantly through
the crowd. He knew it couldn’t be the person he wanted it to be.
All logic defied the possibility, but his heart screamed it had to
be; it simply had to be!


Sweet Jesus!” he declared softly, tipping his head sideways
to try to see more of the face. The hood of the over-long cloak was
tugged upwards, shielding the face from all but the most intense
scrutiny. He had still managed to catch sight of the haunting blue
eyes that had plagued his dreams for the past few
months.

There
was something about the way the figure moved that was so
startlingly familiar that he just couldn’t discount the stunning
possibilities his common sense refused to consider. Willing the
figure to look toward the main road, and him, once more, he watched
and waited.

He knew
he could disregard the wild possibility and go home, but something,
some intrinsic need to know for certain, kept him still.

Cursing
himself for a fool, he waited until the figure disappeared into the
bakery before quickly dismounting, taking the reins in one hand as
he tugged Brutus to the side of the road. He waited patiently for
the insanity to stop. He knew the woman he loved could not possibly
be purchasing bread in the village bakery. Isobel was dead,
right?

It
seemed to take a lifetime for the cloaked figure to re-appear.
Dominic’s gaze locked on to the delicate curve of the pointed chin
clearly visible in the shadows of the billowing cloak hood. Without
further thought, he placed his not inconsiderable bulk directly in
the path of the approaching figure, cursing himself for the worst
kind of fool for having such ridiculous flights of
fancy.

Within
moments, he had his answer.

Isobel’s
stunned blue eyes met and held his in shocked disbelief. Her gasp
hung between them briefly, before disappearing into the cacophony
of noise that seemed to return louder than ever before.

Dominic’s world rocked, and his heart soared as he stared
into the features of the one person he had never thought to see
again.

Isobel!


Sweet mother of God,” he swore softly, his ravenous gaze
sweeping over her beautiful features hungrily. He absorbed every
new nuance and hollow in the delicately pale face that was so
achingly familiar.

Isobel’s
world swam around her as she stared up at Dominic’s handsome,
tanned face with a strange mixture of loving dread. Despite
everything, she knew in that instant that she still loved him, and
undoubtedly always would.

The dark
slashes of his thick brows emphasised the startling emerald green
gaze that now pierced her with hungry intensity, causing her blood
to hum crazily through her body.

Her
solemn gaze met and held his tearfully. Standing perfectly still,
she was stunned to discover that despite everything, she wished he
would just slide his arms around her, and hold her. Just once more.
Her heart thumped crazily in her chest, and she found herself
unable to move as his hungry gaze roamed over her from head to
foot.


Isobel? Is it really you?” he made no attempt to hide the
incredulous tone of his voice.

Isobel
yearned to lean against his solid warmth. Unchecked tears trickled
slowly down her pale features, as her wayward body cried out to
him. If God should strike her down now, she would happily cross the
gates of Heaven to spend her last moments with this man beside
her.

She
found herself unable to make a sound, and watched solemnly as his
hand slowly rose to cup her cold cheek tenderly. The touch of his
blunt fingers against her flesh snapped her out of her daze. Horror
surged through her as the stark reality of her current predicament,
and his marital status, came flooding back. She glanced up at him
only for her heart to clench in fear as she caught sight of the
horrifying figure of her uncle rapidly approaching.


Isobel, darling!” Dominic got no further.


Please help me,” Isobel whispered, her gaze frankly pleading
as it met and held his. “If I ever meant anything to you at all,
please help me.” She knew she was begging, but pride meant nothing
to her against her current predicament.

With her
uncle, and imminent capture, fast approaching, it was imperative
Dominic understood her desperate situation, and help her. She
couldn’t bear the thought of simply being handed over to her uncle;
for the last gruelling weeks to be for nothing.

To be
betrayed by Dominic would be the worst kind of defeat possible.
Isobel didn’t think she could bear it. She desperately began to
search for a way out.

Dominic’s breath locked in his chest at the sight of the
sheer pleading on Isobel’s face. Frowning in consternation, the
questions he wanted to ask her froze in his throat. Immediately he
was caught by the sheer terror in her eyes as she glanced over his
shoulder, warning him silently of the looming threat. He didn’t
need to turn around to know who was there.

Ignoring
the squat man, whose presence he could sense directly behind him,
Dominic went against every protective instinct within him, and gave
her the protection she so desperately needed, the only way he
could.


I gave you your duties this morning, lad,” he snapped
impatiently. “What do you think you are doing undertaking errands
for the Cook? Get back to the Hall this instant!” His voice was
stern and brooked no argument. His eyes locked upon Isobel’s for an
instant and he slowly winked, aware of her stunned surprise. He
tried desperately to convey all the emotions current circumstances
prevented him from voicing, pleading with her to trust him.
Please darling, go!

He
almost burst with frustration when she hesitated, her delicate
brows puckered in confusion. Determined to protect her at all
costs, he gave her a gentle shove toward the road, and away from
the menacing threat of her uncle.

Without
hesitation, she suddenly launched into action and disappeared into
the milling throng on the main street. He hoped with all of his
heart, that she had the wisdom to seek sanctuary at Havistock
Hall.

It took
every ounce of self control he possessed to turn toward the rotund
little man now standing at his elbow, and glare nonchalantly at
him. A dispassionate brow raised in contemptuous
enquiry.

Inwardly, he wanted to beat the man to within an inch of his
life. Drawing upon reserves he didn’t know he had, he stared coldly
down at Isobel’s Uncle Rupert silently, smiling cynically as the
little man shuffled uncomfortably beneath the penetrating
stare.


Good morning, my lord,” Rupert Davenport announced with a
jovial smile that did little to reach his beady brown eyes. His
ineffectual bow of politeness wasn’t returned.


What do you want Davenport?” Dominic snapped impatiently,
glancing toward the milling throng. “I don’t believe we are well
enough acquaintances for you to approach me in the street.” He made
no attempt to disguise the contempt in his voice, and felt a small
measure of satisfaction in the squat little man’s uncomfortable
shuffling as he tried to find a way around the awkward situation he
was currently in, without losing face.


I had heard you were dead, my lord.” Rupert Davenport
replied, watching the heavily cloaked figure disappear into the
bustling throng with interest. His attention was drawn back to the
looming presence of the man beside him, as he snorted with
derision.


Sorry to disappoint you old man,” Dominic snarled with a
disgusted glare. He shifted slightly towards the older man, drawing
his attention away from Isobel. Smiling inwardly, he knew he had
just given Isobel a chance of escaping the vile creature before
him.

Luckily
for Rupert Davenport, civility decreed it impolite to simply beat
the man senseless there and then, and leave his carcass by the side
of the road for the rats.


How is Peter Davenport?”

Dominic
wasn’t fooled by the conversational tone of the older
man.


I understand you are good friends with him. Is it true what
the gossips are saying?”

Despite
his hatred for the man, Dominic found himself intrigued. “What are
the gossips saying?”


Well, I understand Peter was murdered by some smugglers,”
Rupert was unable to keep the hint of glee from his
voice.


Sorry to disappoint you
old
man
,” Dominic felt a small surge of
satisfaction at the angry colour that flooded the cheeks of the
squalid man beside him. “But the last time I saw Peter, he was very
much alive and well.”


Oh, but-.”

Dominic
coldly interrupted the older man’s blustering with a nonchalant
shrug of his shoulders that caused the florid faced little man to
blush further.


You know you really must get yourself better gossips,
everyone you seem to know appears to be dead!” Dominic’s voice was
liberally tinged with amusement. He didn’t bother to say anything
else, and casually mounted his horse. He paused only long enough
for his cold and disinterested gazed to make the small man
uncomfortable.


It will take more than gossip to get me Rupert Davenport, you
should know that,” his mocking voice hung between them for several
moments. Dominic settled back in the saddle, watching the flash of
anger the older man hadn’t been able to hide. “Never forget, the
past will always come back to haunt you.” With that last aside,
Dominic casually nudged his horse into a slow walk.

BOOK: If You Were Mine
13.54Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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