The Seduction of Sarah Marks (16 page)

Chapter Twenty

A fat raindrop splattered on Lilith’s nose. Another on her cheek. Then more. She picked up her pace. How could she have forgotten an umbrella? Oh well, it probably would’ve ended up inside out, what with her on the dash and the blustery winds offering little in the way of good favor.

A streak of lightning zigzagged through the sky and hit a tree with a
craaack
that spewed sparks. Fierce thunder shook the ground. Lilith jumped and squealed. The scent of acrid smoke filled her nostrils. She took off running in earnest, the effort leaving her lungs ragged. And then the sky opened up in a torrent. Wind and rain pummeled her.

She ran for an eternity, but she was nearly there—at least she hoped she remembered the way. She just had to catch that jog in the stone wall. The storm worsened and the rain blew in sheets until she could barely see her hand in front of her. A sudden, sharp stitch ran through her right side. Oh, dear. She shoved a fist into it and kept running. There—the stable!

Rounding the corner, she leaned against the closed doors and heaved in breaths, rubbing at the pain in her side. The place looked deserted. Where the devil was Rob?

Squinting through the rain, she spied a wide footpath. That had to lead to the house…to
his
home. Fog rolling in obscured the walkway. Barely able to see in front of her toes, she trudged up an incline, through a wooded copse, and across an expanse of lawn until she nearly tripped on the three steps leading to a terrace. A large stone house loomed before her, austere-looking in the downpour and mist. This couldn’t be the front of the house, not at all.

She stepped onto the terrace and knocked on a nondescript door. Nothing. Finding it unlocked, she eased it open, her breath coming in great gulps, the pain in her side easing. A black Mackintosh, still dripping, hung on a hook while tall boots caked with mud stood beside it.

“Sir Robert,” she called, startled by the weak volume to her voice. She paid no heed to what her soaked clothing might be doing to the stone floor.

She moved down the corridor. Opening another door, she found herself in what looked to be a central hall. A wide staircase led upward to another level. “Sir Robert Garreck, please come.”

She bent over in an attempt to draw more air into her heaving lungs. Didn’t he retain any servants? “Would someone please answer me?”

Double doors to the left of the stairs stood open. She hurried inside only to stumble to a halt at the unexpected opulence. She ventured further inside, step by step, feeling more the intruder than a messenger.

It took only seconds to see that Rob was not there, but she couldn’t help the pull the room had on her. Like Easton Park, his home held the distinct mark of an artist with a flair for mixing unusual pieces that fit together rather splendidly. He must have traveled a great deal, what with the array of exotic wall hangings and furnishings.

She moved to the stone fireplace and ran her trembling fingers over a tall, three-tiered iron candelabrum he’d likely forged, its branches filled with spent candle wax. Next to it stood an easel holding an unfinished portrait of a hauntingly beautiful, dark-haired woman. Only half of her face had been completed while the other half remained a sketch. Impassioned eyes seeming to peer into the artist’s soul looked to be filled with…with what? Desire? Or was that allurement? Rob had painted a subtle haze over the entire image, lending the woman an even greater sense of mystery. Was she real or only imagined?

Directly opposite the painting sat a large leather chair, its well-worn and sagging seat having received more than its fair share of use. An empty wine bottle and glass stood haphazardly on a table next to the chair.

A chill ran down Lilith’s spine. She made a hasty exit, feeling as though she’d invaded exceedingly private territory.

“Rob?”

Oh, where the devil was he? She eyed the stairs with its plush, blue and gold runner. Dismissing the notion of climbing them, she called out again. “Sir Robert!”

But then she noticed the wet spots on the floor leading to the steps and the damp spots deepening the color of the carpet all the way to the upper landing. Oh, lovely—he’d likely gone to his chambers to change into something dry and couldn’t hear her. Well, this was no proper social call—Mum was in a grave state. Grabbing hold of the elaborately carved banister, she climbed the stairs, her already strained lungs heaving again. “Sir Robert!”

Silence.

“Sir Crocodile, you blasted, ornery…where are you?” What if he wasn’t here? No, he had to be. The Mackintosh was wet. If it was his.

The boots next to it were his, though—she recognized them from before. Reaching the top of the stairs, she glanced each way, and spying the only set of double doors, she rushed down the carpeted hallway and pounded with her fists.

“Sir Robert?”

Anger-filled alarm shot through her at the silence. She wanted to cry, to scream. What if Mum had worsened during all this wasted time? A fierce strength of will welled up in her and she gave the latch a swift turn. The door flew open and she nearly tumbled in. Her heart pounded at the sense she’d really crossed into forbidden territory this time.

The scene before her resembled a knight’s lair of old. A fur throw lay across the foot of a wide accoutrement bed swathed in blue velvet trimmed in gold. Turkish carpets overlaid one another at various angles, blanketing the dark, wood-planked floor. Two large, tufted leather chairs flanked a roaring fire. A haphazard stack of books on a commode next to one chair looked as though they might topple at any moment.

“Sir Robert!”

He came from behind, turning her and sliding his arms around her so fast she didn’t have time to react. Too stunned to utter a sound, she stared up at him, into dark, piercing eyes flashing danger.

“Welcome.” He cupped the back of her head, and with his other, drew her tight to his length.

Before she could react, his mouth came down on hers.
Oh, God!
She struggled, trying to push him away. He was as strong as her husband, and her effort was as futile as trying to push a stubborn mule aside.

She bit down.

“Damn!” He let her go and backed up, swiping his hand across his mouth. “If you aren’t here for sport, then what the hell are you doing in my bedchamber besides looking like a drowned rat?”

“How dare you! I am your cousin’s wife, you licentious beast.”

His jaw dropped. “Married? To Augie?”

Eyeing the door, she slipped past him and scampered down the hall. She glanced over her shoulder as she ran. “I came because of Mum. She’s taken a bad turn, and everyone is being called to Easton Park. She’d want you there.”

He could have stopped her, could have caught her in a flash, but he stood with his bare feet planted wide and his arms folded over his broad chest, the far-reaching length of his gaze penetrating her.

Practically tumbling down the stairs, she was out the front door and into the storm again.
Heaven help me.

Knowing only one way back, she darted to the side of the house, found the path leading through the copse to the stables, and took off on the run. Oh, her lungs stung like the dickens, and her pounding heart was near to exiting her chest. What had she been thinking? No, she mustn’t berate herself for going after him—she’d done this for Mum’s sake.

Rounding the side of the stable, she gasped at the rise of water. What had been a fast-flowing stream when she’d arrived was now a raging river. Skirting the edge of the roaring, muddy water, she kept moving, the stitch in her side back again and nearly doubling her over.

Had someone called out her name? If so, it could only have come from
him
. Far be it for her to wait around to find out if Sir Crocodile gave a damn about his grandmother or not. Apt name, that.

She didn’t have any idea how long she’d been running, but she could no longer feel her legs, and the sky had grown so dark she could barely see at all. A leafy branch, flung by the howling wind, slapped her in the face with a powerful, wet sting. Odd, was that thunder shaking the ground when she hadn’t seen lightning? A bolt lit the sky and she saw the source of the quaking—the huge oak that had been struck by lightning when she first passed this way was falling over, its giant roots tearing loose from the ground with a mighty wrenching.

Too late. She couldn’t get out of the away. The tree crashed to the ground in front of her, the leafy branches knocking her sideways.

Into the raging river.

Under she went, a sharp pain piercing her leg. Buried beneath twisted branches and a thick blanket of leaves, she tried forcing the weight from atop her, but nothing budged. Her lungs strained for air. She couldn’t see, couldn’t feel, and worst of all, she couldn’t move her leg.

Dear God, she was pinned.

And about to drown!

A hand came under her, forcing her upper body to the surface. She gasped for air.

“I’ve got you!”

It was Garreck. She didn’t care who it was, she needed saving. Her head was finally above water—but barely. “I…I can’t move my leg,” she cried.

“Not at all?” His deep voice resonated in her ear.

“No.” Between the rush of cold water and the panic gripping her, she gulped for more air. “Oh, Lord in heaven, get me out of here.”

“Can you reach the branch to your right and hold your head up long enough for me to dive under and set you free?”

“I…I think so.” She stretched her arm out and managed to grab hold of the smallest of the branches. “Oh, do hurry. I…I think the water’s rising.”

Taking a huge gulp of air, Garreck disappeared beneath the surface. Lilith felt a tugging on her leg. No pain, but every tug threatened to drag her under. She grappled for his shoulder and yanked on his shirt to get his attention.

He came to the surface sputtering. “Your left leg,” he gasped, spraying water from his mouth. “A broken branch speared through your upper thigh. I can’t seem to set it free.”

A rush of water washed over her and her head dipped beneath the surface. Garreck pushed her upward. She coughed and spit, struggling to keep her chin and nose out of the water. “Oh, God, Rob, save me!”

…

Eastleigh eyed the mantel clock over Mum’s fireplace and glanced around the room. What had happened to Lilith? It had been far too long since she’d left for a bit of fresh air. She couldn’t possibly be out in this horrid weather.

“Where’s Lady Eastleigh?”

Tildy ducked her head and sidled out the door.

Foreboding crawled along Eastleigh’s neck and snaked along his arms. He rose from Mum’s bedside and lit out after the maid, anger quickening his stride. Stepping into the corridor, he caught sight of her scampering down the stairs. “Tildy!”

His booted heels pounded the carpet in loud thuds. “God damn it, when I call you, don’t run from me!”

The maid stopped mid-stairs, her knuckles white against the banister, her shoulders scrunched to her ears.

A sickening ball formed in his stomach. “You had better turn around and start talking.”

Tildy faced him, her chin quivering. “Lady Eastleigh went to fetch Sir Crocodile. For Mum, sir.”

Had he heard right? “In this storm?”

“Weather hadn’t turned until after she left, sir.” Tildy’s shaky fingers smoothed her apron in fitful strokes. “And when my lady told Mum what she intended to do fer her, Mum’s lips moved into a yes that even I could make out clear as day.”

The maid’s hands dropped her apron and wrung together. “Lady Eastleigh ought to have been back by now, sir. Especially if’n yer cousin took his horse. Seein’ as how she’s not got back, I was settin’ out after her.”

“Good Christ!” Eastleigh raced down the stairs, calling to a footman. “See to it my horse is saddled at once.” He glanced up at Hemphill, who stood at the balcony rail. “I’m going after Lilith. If anything happens to her, that son of a bitch…”

Hemphill raised his hand in a gesture that stopped Eastleigh mid-sentence and responded in a low, calm voice. “It looks to be only a mild attack for Mum. I’ll stay with her while you fetch your wife.”

His eyes narrowed, grew hard, and penetrated Eastleigh like light through water. “It wouldn’t do to run about blaming anyone for anything. Especially since that missing piece of your past has yet to catch up with you.”

Chapter Twenty-one

Despite soggy ground that threatened to bury hooves and break a leg, Eastleigh’s gelding steadfastly obeyed every command and raced onward. Occasional bursts of thunder rolled through the distant sky, signaling the storm was at last finding another place to play havoc.

“Bloody hell,” Eastleigh muttered at the sight of the rampant river spilling over its banks and forming a shallow lake in front of him. The trunk and heavy limbs of a downed oak blocked the flow.

He squinted.

A head bobbed in the river amongst broken branches thick with sodden leaves.

“Lilith?”

She cried out and waved with one hand. And then she grasped the branches again, her face pale.

“Hold on, I’m coming!” He scrambled off his horse and rushed into the icy river.

Coherent thought left him. Reacting on instinct, he grabbed at branches hand-over-fist trying to reach her. The rushing current slammed his ribs against the wild tangle of debris. He grunted and clutched a leaf-sodden limb. The tree snagged his clothing, yanked him around as if it were alive and intent on dragging him under.

A wave of murky water washed over Lilith’s face. She came up sputtering and coughing. “Hurry! I…I can’t hold on much longer.”

He reached her, and she let go, clawing at him. He started for shore, but she yelped and her body held fast. “My leg, it’s caught and…”

“Hold onto something while I set you free.” He grabbed her under the shoulders, lifting her head above water, nausea twisting his gut.

A man’s head popped out of the river, spewing water and gasping for air.

“Rob?” Eastleigh jerked in surprise. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Attempting to save your wife, Augie. Got a knife?”

They stared at each other for a beat of silence before Rob scrubbed a hand over his face and shoved his hair from his eyes. “A branch speared her left leg clear through.”

“Oh, bloody hell!” Eastleigh shoved a hand inside his boot and extracted a long blade. Hooking his foot into the crotch of an underwater limb, he prepared to dive.

“Hand it over, Augie.”

Rob’s utter calmness turned the world around Eastleigh into a bizarre backdrop that slowed and sped up all at once.

“Since she’s my wife, I’ll see to it.” He slid an arm under Lilith—only to meet Rob’s fingers holding onto her.

A brutal pain lanced through Eastleigh’s head.

The image of a battlefield flashed through his mind. A dreadful vision of his sword penetrating flesh—Rob’s flesh.

And then everything came back to him in a sickening rush—of Rob inside a tent, a dark stain growing on the right side of his otherwise immaculate red uniform jacket, his eyes wide in disbelief.

“Christ, Rob. I tried to kill you!”

A stretch of seconds ticked off as they stared at one another. And then Rob stretched out his hand. “I know right where to go, and since there’s no time to waste, hand me the goddamn knife.”

Lilith sputtered.

Eastleigh lifted her head a little higher. “I’ve got you.”

“Hold onto her while I dive under and try to saw off the branch.” Rob’s eyes flashed dark with conviction. “It’s a tangled mess down there. I got caught in it once, and nearly drowned. If I don’t come up in a reasonable amount of time, and I haven’t managed to cut her loose, you’re going to have to yank her leg from where it’s caught, or she’ll not make it out of here.”

More ugly images flashed through Eastleigh’s brain, colliding one after another like a trail of dominoes. Months upon months of a bloody war where the two had fought side by side. They’d been family, watching each other’s backs, and all the while, Rob had been a turncoat. A bloody spy for the Russians.

An agonized cry tore from Lilith’s lips. “Let me go and save yourselves. Please, oh, please. If either of you—”

Another wave washed over her face. She coughed and spat. Eastleigh and Rob’s hands clashed again as they propped up her head.

Raw emotion painted a grim face on Rob. “Think about it. She’s your wife, and she needs you. Do you think I could bloody well live with myself if we did things the other way?”

A new realization gripped Eastleigh. In Rob’s own way, he was saying good bye—just in case. Dear God, could things get any worse?

Rob held out his hand. “You know I’m right.”

Eastleigh closed his eyes for a brief moment. It didn’t matter that Rob had betrayed his country. The war was over. He shouldn’t die. Not here. Not now.

“Damn it, Augie, give me the blasted knife! The water’s still rising, and if the tree shifts, we’re all doomed.”

“Do something!” Lilith choked on another rush of water. “Don’t let us all drown!”

God Almighty.
Eastleigh handed over the knife. “You better damn well get the job done and get your sorry arse back to the surface. How do you think I could live with myself if you don’t?”

A look passed between them.

“If anyone can accomplish this, Rob, it’s you.”

With a small nod, Rob curled his fingers around the hilt. “Like I said, if I can’t cut her loose, you’re going to have to tear her leg off the branch.”

Which was the last thing Eastleigh wanted to do. No telling what kind of damage that might cause. Lilith could be left a cripple. Or bleed to death. “Damn it, man!”

Rob let go of Lilith, but his eyes held steady on Eastleigh. “For what it’s worth, I was never a bloody turncoat.”

Before Eastleigh could question what Rob meant, his cousin gulped a deep breath and disappeared beneath the choppy surface.

Time slowed.

Lilith’s body bobbed as Rob worked at setting her free, and Eastleigh fought to hold her steady. Her ears were under water, and he doubted she could hear him, but he spoke to her anyway, trying to soothe her, and in talking, attempted to alleviate his own dread, as well.

Seconds ticked by. He couldn’t lose her. He couldn’t because…damn it, he loved her.
And Rob…Jesus God, don’t let him get tangled down there and drown.

Bits and strips of white fabric floated to the surface and caught amidst the debris, fluttering like so many tails on kites. Petticoats?

Lilith’s body gave and she became buoyant. “My leg’s free!”

She sputtered and clutched at him while she peered into the choppy water. “Where’s Rob? Why isn’t he coming up?”

Heaven help him, he didn’t know. He grasped Lilith under her arms and headed toward the riverbank. “I’ve got to get you to shore, and then I’ll go after him.”

“Ouch!” she cried. “There’s still the stick in my leg, and it’s catching on things. Oh, help, it hurts. Pull it out.”

“Can’t. The branch acts like a plug and keeps you from bleeding out.” He pushed away from the debris with his boot and pulled her through the water until he found solid footing. “Stop struggling, and let me do the work.”

He tried to lift her with a hand under her knees, but he snagged the protruding piece of branch.

She screamed.

He turned her sideways and, holding her under her arms, lifted her to shore, where he carried her beyond the rushing water and laid her on her side.

Emotion he didn’t have time to ponder sank into him like the talons of a great hawk. “Rob hasn’t surfaced. I’ve got to go back for him. You’re at least an inch deep in water here, so prop your head on your arm.”

She waved her free hand at him. “Hurry!”

He glanced at the ugly piece of branch protruding from her thigh, laid bare by her torn dress and petticoats. With a sickening lurch to his stomach, he turned and ran back to the river.

He spied Rob clinging with one hand to the tree on the opposite side of where he’d dived under. Anyone with half a brain could see he was sapped of strength and losing his grip on the slippery tree.

Eastleigh splashed into the water and swam, his fit muscles nonetheless straining against the treacherous current trying to roll him under. Just as he reached Rob, his cousin’s hands slipped from the branch and he disappeared from sight.

“Rob! No!” Eastleigh gulped a breath and dove under. Unable to see past his nose in the murky waters, he dragged himself along the submerged tree.
Damn it, not now. I can’t fail Rob now. Where the hell is he?

Eastleigh’s chest burned, and his lungs screamed for air. Had Rob been swept away? His fingers snagged fabric. And then connected with a body, kicking and struggling.

He grabbed for Rob and met his fingers. Rob grasped Eastleigh’s hand and gave a shove downward to his boot. Damn, Rob’s foot was caught in the crook of a branch and twisted.

Eastleigh’s lungs were giving out, so Rob had to be close to drowning. Eastleigh couldn’t give up—couldn’t let Rob die. Another hard yank, and Rob’s foot sprang free. They both shot to the surface, holding onto the same branch for dear life and gulping in air.

“Let’s go.” Eastleigh grabbed Rob before he could slip away again. Together, they made it to shore. Stumbling to the soggy ground, they rolled onto their backs and collapsed, coughing, chests heaving.

“Let me get a bit more air,” Rob said. “And then we’ll see to getting your wife back to the house.”

My wife!
God help him, a wife he’d nearly cast from his life. Eastleigh staggered to his feet and loped over to where Lilith lay trembling from the cold. Good God! She was so pale her skin looked translucent. “Lilith, I can’t carry you alone with that stick in your leg, and you can’t walk. Rob’s all right, and as soon as he gains some strength, we’ll figure out a way to get you back to the house where Hemphill can see to you.”

He eyed his horse, but with the way the branch protruded from Lilith’s leg front to back, there was no way she—an especially poor rider—could manage.

An idea struck him.

Grabbing her skirt, he tore a strip from her dress and another from what remained of her tattered petticoats. “This is going to hurt like hell, but I need to get a bit of blood on the fabric.”

She only winced when he bunched bits of cloth around the exit point of the branch and pressed down, just enough to release a thin flow of blood. She bit her bottom lip and fisted her hands but remained silent.

“You’re a strong woman, darling. Not many could manage what you’ve been through. And I mean that in every sense of the word. Will you forgive me for being such a bumbling fool? It’s been hell ever since you left, Lilith. I don’t care how many megrims I have to suffer through, I want you by my side. Until the end of my days. I’m simply no good without you.”

She began to sob and laugh at the same time. “Whatever happens in our lives, we go through it together?”

“Well said, darling.” He kissed her forehead and rose. He tied the bloody strips of fabric to the saddle, and then slapped Commodore on the rump. The beast bolted. Kicking up chunks of muddy earth with its hooves, the horse disappeared into a gray landscape.

He returned to Lilith. “He’ll be back to the stables in no time. As soon as the groomsman sees what’s tied to the saddle, we’ll have an entourage out after us. At least the path Commodore’s tearing up will be easy to follow.”

Rob, his breathing steady, strode to Eastleigh’s side. “If you’ll grasp her along her back and shoulders, I can take hold under her knees and ankles. If we can manage to walk in rhythm with one another, she’ll be that much closer to help when it arrives.”

Eastleigh nodded. “That’s what I figured as well.”

As Rob bent down in tandem with Eastleigh, something indefinable crossed Rob’s features. “We once marched together rather smartly, didn’t we? Think we can manage a decent go of it again?”

A corner of his mouth made a wry upturn. “Mayhap this time for a better reason than a bloody, worthless war, Augie? You count off.”

Eastleigh swept muddied hair off Lilith’s cheek. “Relax as much as you can, love, and let us do the work.” He spoke softly, in hopes of soothing her. “We’ve carried the wounded before. We know what to do.”

“Do what you must.” Her words left her mouth in little more than a weak exhale. She gave them each a glance and then closed her eyes.

Eastleigh and Rob positioned themselves as they’d once done a hundred times over. At the count of three, they lifted Lilith as if she weighed nothing more than a bird in hand. Still, she grimaced, and it was as though her pain shot right into Eastleigh, becoming his. “So sorry, darling.”

At another count of three, he and Rob stepped forward in unison, their steps an even, practiced cadence that had not been forgotten.

“Please talk,” Lilith said, her eyes still closed. “If I have something to distract me, it might blunt the discomfort.”

So the pain had set in. He’d wondered when that would occur. He regarded Lilith’s leg and the ugly stick that had been sawed from the tree. God forbid she should end up with an infection and lose the leg…or worse. He and Rob gave one another a knowing glance.

“We’ve about a twenty minute walk,” Eastleigh said, not knowing quite what else to say.

“At least the storm’s let up,” Rob replied.

Lilith groaned. “I can manage to figure out the weather and distance on my own, thank you very much. Your nonsense is doing nothing to distract me. There are things that need to be said between the two of you. I cannot think of a better time to do so than when your hands are full, which will make it impossible to pummel each other.”

Rob grunted. “Makes me appreciate bachelorhood, she does.”

“So you say,” Lilith muttered.

Eastleigh had expected simplicity in his life once he wed. As if marriage would place some kind of finality to all the hell that had gone before. She was right. There were things that had to be cleared away, especially if he was ever to attain peace. “What do you mean you weren’t a turncoat? I saw you inside the tent of that Russian Colonel. The lamplight cast your silhouettes against the canvas plain as day. You reached into your uniform jacket and pulled out a packet of papers I’d seen you stuff in there earlier. Then he handed you a stack of currency. I watched you count it. And that wasn’t the first time, Rob.”

Rob shot him a sideways glance. “I was a double agent. The secrets I turned over to the Russians were worth little, just enough to keep them believing I was on their side. I’m sorry you had to see certain things take place.”