My Runaway Heart (32 page)

"No, no, it's not morning, it can't be," she
said, throwing her arms around him. "And if it is, then let's pretend it's
not, Jared—"

"Woman, I'd like nothing more," he said so
huskily she thought for a moment she had swayed him, his arms going around her to
hold her tight. He hugged her so fiercely that for a moment she couldn't
breathe, but why did she need air if she could forever be a captive in his
arms? Yet all too suddenly he began to release her, although she clung to him,
not wanting him to let her go. "Lindsay, how can I hope to find a vicar in
this city if you won't allow me to dress?"

She froze, her mouth dropping open, so stunned she
simply stared up at him.

"Yes, a vicar," he repeated, giving her a
sound slap on her bare bottom, then gently pulling her arms from around his
neck. "And he'll be shocked indeed if he arrives to perform our wedding
and finds you looking like anything but a blushing bride. Now, shall we dress?"

Lindsay glanced down at herself, overcome as much by
shock at what he'd announced as by the joy suddenly flooding her, tears of
elation jumping to her eyes. She felt so flustered—light-headed, too—not
knowing what to do first, that Jared took pity on her and swept up the towel he'd
tossed to the floor last night and wrapped it around her, knotting the thick
cloth at her breasts.

"This will do for clothing until you have a chance
to bathe. I'll have the proprietor send up some hot water for you."

Lindsay was still so astonished, she didn't notice that
Jared had grown tense; she ran to the bed to shake out, one by one, her muslin
gown
and her underclothes. The garments were a bit crumpled,
but she had no others— Oh, Lord, could it really be true?

She turned to look at Jared, but he was already
dressed, fastening the last button on his ivory shirt and then thrusting his
pistol into his belt. He didn't glance at her but strode to the door, his
impatience to be on his way overwhelming her. He couldn't seem to wait for her
to become his bride. His bride!

"Jared, wait!" She flew to him, the sudden
warmth in his eyes overwhelming her, too; she'd never known such happiness, and
she threw her arms around his neck. "Oh, Jared, I knew it would only take
some time before you realized you loved me, too. I can't believe we're to be
married! It's all I've ever wanted!"

He didn't answer and she didn't see the flicker of pain
across his face as he bent his head to kiss her. Kiss her for so brief a
moment, she already missed him desperately before he'd even walked out the
door, and after he had, she could only stand there, listening to his footfalls
retreating down the steps.

Only when they had faded did she allow herself such a
whoop of pure joy, she was certain the entire city of
Gijón
had heard her.

***

Lindsay had bathed, dressed and been pacing excitedly
for what seemed like hours, even staring out the window at the bustling
waterfront unable to divert her, when she finally heard footsteps returning.
She flung open the door, her disappointment so keen when she found the portly
proprietor in the hall and not Jared that the poor man was clearly embarrassed.

"
Señorita
, come.
El
Capitàn
is downstairs—
Señorita
?"

She had flown past him so suddenly, but she couldn't
help herself, so near to bursting was she to see Jared again. And he was
waiting for her in the main room of the tavern, a balding, bleary-eyed
Englishman standing beside him who appeared even less a vicar than she was a
blushing bride. Her face aflame as she remembered Jared's words, she knew she
didn't care that the wedding was coming after . . .

The memory of Jared's recent possession of her as vivid
as that his intense gaze now held
hers,
she swallowed
at her sudden nervousness, taking his outstretched hand.

"Lindsay, the Reverend Charles Standish."

"Dee-lighted, my dear." The man
hiccuped
before Lindsay could utter a word, clearly well
into his cups even at this early time of the day. "What a fine day for a
wedding, haven't performed one since I left England ages ago, but better to be
living among the Spaniards than deported, I always say—
Oops
,
excuse me."

The drunken fellow had practically reeled into her,
reeking so foully of rum that Lindsay wrinkled her nose and glanced doubtfully
at Jared. She noticed then that he was anything but smiling, probably as
dismayed by the man who would perform the sacred ceremony as was she, so to
reassure him, she summoned her brightest smile.

"If he can say the words, what else matters?"
she whispered in a cheerful aside, glad to see, as she looped her arm through
Jared's, that the vicar pulled a prayer book from his pocket, at least having
come prepared.

"Do we—have witnesses?" the reverend demanded
loudly, another hiccup bursting from his throat.

As if prearranged, the portly proprietor stepped
forward, already mopping his eyes with his handkerchief, while two early-bird
patrons in no better condition than the vicar lurched out of their chairs. But
Lindsay could have been standing in the loftiest church for all she noticed,
her gaze upon Jared, her heart overflowing.

He said his vows so soberly, his eyes never leaving
hers, while she could barely speak at all, and before it seemed she could
blink, the vicar shut the prayer book with a thud and dropped it back into his
pocket, the ceremony done. She must have looked startled; in the next instant
Jared drew her against him to seal their marriage with a kiss so stirring, she
was aware of nothing any longer but the impassioned warmth of his lips upon
hers.

Yet just as quickly he released her and took her by the
hand, leading her from the tavern while their motley witnesses sank back into
their chairs and the vicar demanded a drink from the proprietor, who snuffled
into his handkerchief and went back to his work. Lindsay blinked at the
blinding sunlight outside, a bit ashamed of herself for thinking she and Jared
might retire at once to their room.

Of course, he must have something special planned;
perhaps he'd somehow gotten the word to
Cooky
aboard
the
Vengeance
to prepare a wedding
breakfast. He seemed preoccupied as they walked along the busy wharf, and they
were moving away from his ship, which made her wonder, but nothing could daunt
her joy. She and Jared were husband and wife! At last her dreams had come true—

"Lindsay."

Jared had stopped, his voice oddly somber as he pulled
her out of the way of bustling passengers boarding a brig lying at anchor
alongside the dock, Lindsay glancing from the commotion to his face. And she
sensed then, from the dark turbulence in his eyes, that there was no wedding
breakfast in store, her heart plummeting like a stone into her shoes.

"We must part now, Lindsay. Everything's arranged.
This ship is bound for London, a Swedish neutral, so you'll be safe. I've paid
for your passage, and you should be home within a week—"

"No." She had barely whispered, so stunned,
so stricken that she could say no more, staring in shock at Jared. She glanced
at the ship, which was preparing to sail, and clutched all the more tightly to
Jared's arm. "No—"

"And I say,
woman, that
you will go. You will return to England and take your place as the Countess of
Dovercourt
. You'll not want for anything—a house, money,
servants—and there you will be safe. Do you hear me? I've a man there, Simon
Tuft, a good man whom I trust, and he knows of Sylvia and Ryland Potter. If
they would ever dare to show their faces at
Dovercourt
Manor, Simon has orders what to do—"

"But what of you?" she blurted out, somehow
finding her voice, although her throat was so tight she could scarcely breathe.
"I don't want a house or money or servants, Jared, only you! Your love is
all I want, all I need—"

"And I told you before, Lindsay, I've no love to
give you."

"But we—you married me!"

"Only to spare your reputation when you return to
England. No matter what story you concoct about your disappearance, people will
always wonder—especially if you find yourself with child. At least now you have
a husband" —he reached into his belt and pulled out a piece of folded
vellum— "and what I trust will pass for a proper license to prove you're
Lady Giles, the Countess of
Dovercourt
."

"No." Lindsay numbly shook her head, refusing
to believe him, refusing to take the license, but he forced it into her hand.

"Damnation, listen to me, Lindsay! If it ever
becomes known who I am, you must fashion the biggest story of your life and
swear you never knew anything about my being the Phoenix, do you understand?
You were just as fooled as everyone else."

He shoved her then toward the gangplank, Lindsay so
sick at heart that her legs would scarcely move, while Jared felt as if he were
dying inside. But,
dammit
, he had to make her go! He
had to!

If he somehow got back to England, he would make amends
to her, but at least this way she would be safe. There were too many ships
looking for him, even this short stay in
Gijón
of
imminent risk, and he planned for the
Vengeance
to sail at dark no matter if all the repairs hadn't been made. But for now, if
he must hurt her to get her to go . . .

"Jared, please, no! Let me stay with you!"

She had cried out so desperately that sailors and
passengers alike were beginning to stare, forcing Jared to be cruel.

"Woman, I've given you everything I can. For once,
look at life as it is and to hell with your fantasies!"

He could have stabbed her through the
heart,
she grew so deathly white, stumbling up the
gangplank. It was all he could do not to grab her back, to seize her in his
arms and tell her how much he cared. Yet he would no more allow himself to do
that than to abandon the vengeful path he had chosen for himself, a path too
perilous to share with the woman he loved and would do anything to protect.

Unable to bear the stricken weight of her gaze upon him
as she clutched at the railing above, a command going out to drop the gangplank
and unfurl the sails, he turned his back on the ship and strode away.

"Good-bye, Lindsay."

His hoarse whisper lost to the noise and bustle of the
wharf, he didn't need his eyes burning to know that leaving her was truly the
hardest thing he had ever done.

Chapter 29

Lindsay stared at Jared's retreating back until she
couldn't see him anymore. The wharf was so crowded, and even then she searched
wildly for his dark blond head. But he was gone, though his words still rang in
her ears—brutal words that had cut her to the quick and filled her with
unimaginable despair.

It was true. He would never love her. He had room in
his heart only for revenge. Maybe, just as he'd said, he had given her
everything he could . . .

"No," Lindsay whispered fiercely, swiping at
the useless tears fogging her eyes as she looked down at the crumpled vellum in
her hand.

She had given him everything, too, her love, her very
soul; there was nothing left
save
for her life. And if
she had a choice to be safe aboard this neutral vessel or to risk death to be
with Jared—it wasn't even a choice! She knew what she wanted to do; memories of
his kiss, his caresses, the memory of how he'd stared into her eyes that
morning as if emblazoning her rapture upon his mind—all spurred her on.

Such things couldn't be lies, she told herself
desperately as she tucked the license in her bodice and climbed onto the
railing,
then
grabbed a fistful of rigging while
nearby passengers gasped in surprise. Words might hide the truth, but she'd
seen no fantasy in Jared's eyes no matter what he'd said—

"My lady, come down from there! Come down!"

As a dignified gentleman wearing the braided trappings
of a captain rushed toward the railing along with several of his crew, Lindsay
shook her head and climbed shakily down the rigging.

"No, no, don't worry about me! It was all a
mistake,
I'm staying in
Gijón
—oh!"

She lost her footing and almost fell, even now the
Swedish vessel edging slowly away from the wharf while she clutched at the
rigging and fought to regain a toehold. As more startled faces appeared at the
railing, she waved to reassure them and then, squeezing her eyes shut, she
jumped, not knowing if she might just make the end of the wharf or find herself
in the water.

She laughed giddily when she landed upon something
solid, the dock soundly beneath her feet, and she spun again to wave at the
ship. The embarking ship that she was no longer aboard, while the
Vengeance
. . . oh, Lord, the
Vengeance
.

Realizing as if waking from a frantic daze that she
still had to find some way back aboard Jared's ship, and without him seeing
her, too, or she was certain he'd lash her to the mainmast of the next vessel
to ensure she stayed put, Lindsay ducked into an alleyway that led behind the
row of buildings facing the wharf. An alleyway she would not have dared venture
into except for the comforting light of midday, although she hurried all the
same for fear of meeting any unsavory characters.

Fortunately, she startled only stray cats that meowed
and skittered out of her way, and a few serving women who watched her progress
curiously before she reached the tavern where she and Jared had stayed the
night before. After entering through a back door, Lindsay heard glasses
chinking and mugs being
thunked
down upon tables. She
took a brief moment to catch her breath before she swept into the main room and
brushed past the stout proprietor, who glanced up from wiping a table, his eyes
growing round.