Regina Scott (21 page)

The thought chilled him further, and he found himself reaching for Samantha’s arm, drawing her against him once more. She blinked in surprise, but at his gesture or his words, he wasn’t sure.

“What shall we do?” she asked.

“We will see you home,” Will replied, determination building. “I have a great deal to tell you about your so-called suitor, but it will have to wait until you’re safely back at the manor.”

“You forget,” she said, pulling away from him. “Haygood is between us and my home. We should head for Kendrick Hall instead. Far more people there.”

Will grinned. “There will be far more people in the woods shortly. Your cousin Vaughn gave me ten minutes to find you before turning out the guard. By the location of the sun, I’d say they’ll be here any moment.”

He thought she would smile as well, but she did not look comforted. “Do they know he is armed?”

“We heard the shot,” Will explained. “They’ll be prepared.”

She took a breath as if he had relieved a concern. “Good. Then you and I need only stay out of sight until he’s captured.”

She wanted to hide? His bold Samantha? The move was so unlike her that Will looked closer. Her gown was speckled with leaves, the hem torn and frayed. Her bare arms were crossed with angry red welts where branches must have lashed her. But worse were the purpling bands around her neck, four along the sides and one in the center.

Anger was a poker in Will’s side. Haygood had tried to strangle her! Small wonder she shrank from facing him. How dare Haygood treat her this way!

Will put his hand on her arm. “You are safe with me. I promise he will not hurt you again.”

Her lips trembled, as if she could not find the words. He could not find the will to resist her. He bent and kissed her, once, softly, a seal on his promise.

A seal he found difficult to break.

When he straightened, her smile said she’d felt the same. “We need to get out of sight,” she reminded him.

If she worried for her life, Will was the last one to begrudge her a little peace. “Very well,” he said. “There’s an old gamekeeper’s cottage not far from here.”

She brightened. “The troll’s lair! I remember. Jamie and I used to play there. It’s perfect!”

“Perhaps not as perfect as you’d like,” Will warned. “While we wait, we’ll have time for me to ask you questions you may not want to answer.”

She raised her chin, her former spirit reasserting itself. “Then you should know that I’ll do the same. Lead the way.”

Chapter Twenty-One

S
amantha knew she should not take such comfort in Will loping along beside her as they cut through the woods. She had planned her life for independence, beholden to no one, responsible for too many, always in conflict with her tempestuous emotions. But she had to admit to a certain pleasure when he took her hand and helped her over a fallen tree, and she didn’t protest when her hand remained in his for the rest of their walk.

It simply felt...right.

They quickly reached the gamekeeper’s cottage at the back of the woods, less than a mile from Kendrick Hall. The cottage was a one-room building of undressed stone with a plank roof crusted with moss. The place was so heavy and shadowed, she still thought it a fitting home for a troll.

Will, it seemed, had no such illusions. He shoved against the door, and it swung open on hinges that protested. He grimaced as if he knew he might have just given away their location.

As he ushered Samantha through the door, she glanced behind, but nothing larger than a leaf was moving in the woods. She could only hope her cousins and servants were just beyond the range of sight and hearing and would capture Haygood before he found her and Will.

The tiny cottage felt like the bolt-hole it was. The stone walls had been paneled in rough wood, speckled with hooks and shelves that had once held the implements of the gamekeeper’s trade. A worktable stained dark red in places stood in the center, with a bench on either side. A single window on the south side let in light filtered through the trees.

“Oh, this is perfect,” Samantha said, following Will inside and closing the door behind her. “Doesn’t it just look like the trolls lived here?” She pointed to the table. “That’s where they carved up their victims.”

Will chuckled. “Jamie said he never saw our gamekeeper the same way after your story. I can’t blame him. I was terrified by Mr. Michaelson when I was a lad and certain he captured more than foxes in those traps he liked to lay out.”

Samantha wandered to the empty hearth, where a cast-iron grate stood ready for a log from the forest and an iron poker leaned against the stone, waiting to stoke the flames. “How long should we wait, do you think?” she asked.

“Knowing your cousins, a quarter hour at most.” He strolled closer. “Just long enough to settle our differences.”

Samantha turned to meet his gaze. In the dim light behind him, she found it hard to be sure of the look on his face—eager to know her secrets? Determined to make her change her mind?

“Differences?” she tried teasing. “I wasn’t aware we were at odds, my lord.”

She was certain his mouth quirked. “Funny. I thought you found something objectionable about me. After all, you refused my proposal.”

At once she could not look at him and dropped her gaze to the hearth again. “I had my reasons. And I must ask you not to repeat your proposal. I’ve had quite enough for one day.”

Even though she wasn’t looking at him, she could hear the humor in his warm voice. “Very well. I’ll wait at least until tomorrow.”

The giggle came out more easily than she’d expected. “Very gentlemanly of you.”

Out of the corner of her eye she could see him spread his hands. “I do my best. Will you answer me another question, then?”

“I’ll try,” she said, poking at a loose stone in the hearth with her boot. She waited for him to speak again—asking about Haygood, about her reasons for not marrying, about her understanding with his brother. Perhaps they had some differences to settle after all!

“Do you love me?” he asked.

If he had shot her with an arrow at such a close range she could not have felt the wound more deeply. Everything about her rebelled at answering. Her shoulders tightened even as her hands fisted at her sides. The dusty air in the cottage seemed to be caught in her lungs.

“That is a highly impertinent question,” she managed.

“I was under the impression you Everards value impertinence,” he replied, voice calm and reasoned. “And you didn’t answer me.”

How could she answer? Did she love him? She loved how he guided Jamie, with a kind and deft touch that usually spared the young man’s consequence. She loved how well he rode and fenced, head high, smile on his lips, as if enjoying every moment. She loved how he treated her with respect, something she’d come to expect in her family but something she’d occasionally missed in other gentlemen of her class. She loved the way he humbly worshipped. She loved the sound of his laugh and the touch of his hand. Was all that really love? A love strong enough to withstand her family legacy?

“I don’t know,” she told the hearth. “I’m not sure I know what the love between a man and a woman should be.”

She could feel him standing there, still a comforting presence even with his questions.

“You surprise me,” he murmured. “Surely you’ve seen love. Look at your cousins and their wives.”

“I have,” she assured him, daring to glance up at him. He was watching her, and she could see that his dark brows were down in a frown, as if he were truly trying to understand.

“They seem content in each other’s company, happy,” she admitted, “and the attraction between each pair cannot be denied.”

His hand slipped over hers, warmed her, and she felt as if the connection ran all the way to her heart. “Then what do you think is lacking between the two of us?” he murmured.

She made herself pull away. “A future, I fear, my lord.”

He angled his head to meet her gaze, eyes narrowed so that she could no longer see the deep green in the shadows. “Do you think I would be unfaithful? What basis have I given you?”

“None,” she promised. “I imagine you would honor your vows just as I would. My mother and father honored their vows from what I can tell. They were highly attracted to each other. For a short while, they were happy. And then they were miserable.”

He straightened. “Why? What changed?”

“Nothing,” she assured him. “Don’t you see? It was all an illusion, an attraction based on the fire of emotion that grew as dark as this hearth.” She kicked at a stone to prove her point. “It really wasn’t love.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “And you think me equally blinded by your beauty.”

“I am not that vain, Will. But more than one fellow has been prompted to propose because he found me, or the Everard legacy, attractive.”

His arms fell to his sides. “I am no fortune hunter.”

She didn’t want to see him in that light. She never wanted to see a fellow as so mercenary. But she’d learned well from her mistakes. She took a step closer to him, daring to inhale the spicy scent that clung to him like his foreign past.

“Even you could be tempted, Will. Jamie told me about Kendrick Hall. If you don’t marry well, you could lose it.”

He drew himself up. “I don’t need to marry for money. I have a plan, and it will bear fruit in time.”

“Then you wouldn’t mind waiting to marry me, say for a year?”

Now she watched him, looking for any sign of deception. His eyes remained narrowed, his brow furrowed, but his color seemed to be rising, as if she’d discovered something he wanted hidden.

Oh, Father, please, not him! You know my feelings better than I know them. You know how tempted I am to accept his proposal. But I will refuse him if he plans to capture the legacy instead of my heart!

“If that pleases you, of course I’ll wait,” he said. “Though I cannot imagine either of us would be any happier waiting than marrying by license in the next month.”

“A month?” Samantha felt as if she could draw breath. “You’d wait an entire month?”

His frown deepened. “Certainly. I imagine even a lady of your talents needs some time to prepare. And we must have the banns read or I’d have to ride to London and return with a special license. All that takes time.”

“There’s Gretna Green,” she said, refusing to take her eyes off him.

He shrugged. “Gretna Green is not nearly as romantic as the stories make it out to be. I’d prefer you to have the wedding you deserve, with our friends and family around us.”

He could not know how his words warmed her, yet still she could not trust them.

“A lovely picture. Would you still choose to paint it if you knew I’d lose everything?”

“What are you talking about?” he demanded.

“You see,” Samantha explained, “if I’m not married before my twenty-fifth birthday, three days from now, my father’s will dictates that everything not entailed be given to charity. That will include the bulk of the funds invested in the Exchange, all our ships except my cousin Richard’s, even Dallsten Manor. I’ll have sufficient funds to live, and of course my cousins keep their inheritances, but everything else will be given away or tied up for my heir.”

He shook his head, and her heart sank. “What was your father thinking?” he said.

“Oh, my father knew me too well,” she replied and hoped the bitterness wasn’t as evident as it felt. “He was afraid I’d be too much like him, refusing to wed until late in life, chasing after independence, becoming too headstrong. He thought to offer me an incentive I couldn’t refuse. That’s where he went wrong. I do refuse it. I won’t marry, to please him or anyone else.”

“I can’t believe this,” Will protested. “You refuse me, you refuse all your other suitors, to spite your father? Are you willing to let your past rob you of a future?”

He didn’t understand. She had to make him understand. “I’m not trying to spite my father. I’m trying to avoid the path my father and mother took. I refuse to end up like her, allowing my emotions to rule me, to drive me to do the unspeakable.”

No! She’d almost said it aloud! She snapped shut her lips and stared at the grate. Unfortunately it was hard to see it through the tears that were as determined to come as she was to stop them.

“So that’s the issue,” he said softly. “I knew something was troubling you. Tell me. What did your mother do when she became unhappy in her marriage? Did she take her frustrations out of you? Run away from him?”

“Neither.” She swallowed. Did she dare trust him? He was the Earl of Kendrick; the churchyard came under his keep. If it became widely known that her mother had committed suicide, he could insist that she be exhumed, move her out of hallowed ground. The action would blacken her mother’s name, bring up stories that were best left buried as well.

Yet now that she knew him better, she knew he would do nothing to hurt her, or her mother.

“What then?” he pressed.

“She took her own life.” Just saying the words made her shudder, and he reached out as if to embrace her. She pushed him away.

“Do you understand now, Will?” she challenged. “That’s what can come of a marriage based solely on passions—tragedy and pain and children left to carry burdens too heavy for them. Do you fault me for trying to keep the past from repeating itself?”

His face was sad. “Never. But emotion can as easily be light as darkness. Indeed, in this world, you cannot have one without the other. I learned that lesson, to my sorrow. Despite my brother’s jeers, my father’s council, I married Peggy Demesne in a bright cloud of joy. She died bearing my child, and I was so young and heartbroken I left him, for years, trying to forget.”

“Oh, Will,” she said. “But you came back. You’re here helping Jamie now. He loves you.”

“And I love him. But I never forgot the pain of losing my first love, never even contemplated falling in love again. Until I met you.”

He opened his arms, inviting her in. How could she refuse? She no longer knew the right answer to his proposal, was no longer sure of her way. But right here, right now, she wanted to comfort him, feel herself comforted.

She entered his embrace, slipped her arms about his waist, rested her head against his chest. Warmth slid over her, loosened stiff muscles, made breathing easier. He held her, simply, reverently, and for a moment, that was all that mattered.

“I love you, Samantha Everard,” he murmured against her temple. “Please think about my offer. It’s taken me seventeen years and three continents to find the courage to make it.”

How odd that he, who had faced down Barbary pirates and nearly stopped a war, should need courage to propose to her. Is that what she lacked? How could that be? She was an Everard. Her family had fought off murderous servants, devious French spies and a madman intent on ruling England. How could a little thing like marriage seem so terrifying?

Yet she was terrified, terrified of losing herself, of losing her life, of leaving behind a motherless child. She’d thought she was doing all this so nobly, but it was fear that held her back. Why hadn’t she seen that before?

Did her cousins know? No, they would have scolded her, helped her overcome it had they realized. Had her father known when he’d penned his will so many years ago now? She’d never understood his choices, in marrying on a whim, in leaving her for months at a time, in bringing men here to Dallsten Manor to plot treason under cover of the summer party. She could still see those men, streaming through the front door of Dallsten Manor, faces alight with pleasure. She’d thought it was the party that so moved them. Now she knew better.

Even as the picture of her father’s men faded, one face stood out among the crowd. Samantha gasped and pulled back, staring up at Will, aghast.

“Will! I remembered! Prentice Haygood used to come to the summer party with my father. He was much thinner then, and clean shaven, but I’d swear it was him.”

“Very good, my dear,” Haygood said, pushing open the door with the barrel of his pistol. “I knew you were too clever for your own good, and mine.”

* * *

Will took one look at Haygood in the doorway and shoved Samantha behind him, mind reeling. Vaughn and the other Everards and their servants had to be close. All Will had to do was make Haygood leave or keep him talking for a few minutes, and Samantha would be safe.

“If you hope to escape,” Will said, “go now. The Everards are onto you.”

“Well, that’s news to me,” Samantha muttered behind him. He felt her move and swung both arms back to cage her in.

“But do they have proof?” Haygood ventured closer. His brow glistened with sweat, and Will could see it trickling through the beard on his flabby cheeks. “I’ve tried to find it, but to no avail. Can they bring me before the magistrates?”