скачать книгу бесплатно
‘Not any longer,’ he replied bluntly. ‘Forgive me, Mistress Lucas, but I did not know you—not that it would have made any difference.’
To Jane his reply was insultingly flippant and she felt the bite of his mockery. She had been so oppressed living in Jacob Atkins’s house these past four years that her temper had been subdued. But now, for the time being, those fears began to fade, for she had greater problems at hand. Tired of being at the mercy of Jacob Atkins for so long, she had not escaped his tyranny to find herself at the mercy of another, and she would do whatever it took to claim back what was rightfully hers. As she rose and confronted the Roundhead once more, she felt a deep and abiding anger.
Francis saw the young woman’s face turn white and the slender fingers clench on the riding whip they held, and knew a fraction of a second before she raised her hand what she would do and raised his own to avoid the blow, trapping hers easily and twisting it up behind her back, knocking the whip from her grasp and sending it clattering to the floor. His arms were a cage holding her against him.
Jane could feel the heat of him, the hard-muscled strength of him as his eyes looked mercilessly down into hers. Almost immediately his hands released her arm and closed over her shoulders, thrusting her away. Suddenly and unexpectedly he laughed.
‘You appear to be remarkably quick with your hands, Mistress Lucas. I can see I must not underestimate you. You might well have been a match for my fellow soldiers. So much for the popular conception of gently bred young ladies being raised like tender plants given to swooning and the vapours.’
The bright colour flamed in Jane’s cheeks once more and she bent and retrieved her whip, trying to ignore the pain in her wrist. ‘If I am angry, sir, it is because I suddenly find my home, which has belonged to the Lucas family for generations, has been stolen.’ She was also feeling increasingly unwell. Her headache was definitely getting worse and she was so hot and thirsty.
He laughed again in the face of her anger. ‘Of course, I should be delighted to have you remain as my guest—until you have found somewhere else to go. Do you have relatives hereabouts?’
Jane was dumbstruck. And so it was that she looked at the Roundhead Colonel with new eyes. And because it happened so unexpectedly, leaving no time to prepare herself, she experienced a sudden, terrible sense of loss and loneliness so that, for a moment, she found she could not speak. As she went on looking at him in disbelief, almost unseeing, she felt her heart gradually begin to pound, and all the tensions she had been trying so hard to control building up inside her until they came together in a tight knot at the base of her throat. She’d had moments of dejection before, but they had never been so serious. This was a bitter blow.
Chapter Two
It took Jane a moment to find her voice and say, ‘No, I do not. I do not understand you. You talk in riddles.’
Despite her haughty stance, Francis saw that her dark eyes, which moments before had been hurling scornful daggers at him, were now glittering with unshed tears. Somehow he found himself unable to move. She looked so unutterably sad—was that the word?—as though she had a troubled mind and he knew that his dogs sensed it by the way they looked at her with soulful eyes.
‘No, Mistress Lucas,’ he said on a gentler note. ‘It is you who is lacking in understanding.’
‘I don’t think so,’ she answered, feeling a sudden urge to hurt him as much as she was hurting. ‘Who are you, Colonel Russell? Please explain to me how this house can be yours? Where do you come from?’
‘From Cambridge.’
‘Really. I know Cambridge. Your name is familiar. As I recall there was a family by that name. They were farriers, I believe.’
His expression tightened. ‘You have a good memory, Mistress Lucas. You are right. My family dealt in horses.’
‘So, you took advantage of the upheaval of the war to take for yourself the house of a Royalist gentleman. You are nothing but an upstart, the son of a farrier, a man of exceedingly humble birth,’ she uttered scornfully. ‘You may be deserving with your newly acquired status, Colonel, but you are undeserving of such a prize as this. People of such low quality are unfit to inhabit such a house as Bilborough.’
Anger flared in his eyes at the intended insult. Ordinarily Francis had little difficulty in sustaining the air of cold detachment that was at once his most valuable defence in his dealings with his fellow men. He had had enough practice, but he had learned very soon that the cruel, avaricious world of war equated civility with weakness. And now the regenerated son of a horse breeder was looking forwards to teaching the arrogant and headstrong daughter of a Royalist nobleman a lesson or two.
‘I have every right. The Bilborough estate and rents were confiscated,’ he stated, his tone carrying more hidden steel than a rapier.
‘I had no knowledge of that,’ Jane replied, thinking that Gwen must have known and kept it from her.
‘That was not my concern at the time. But did it not occur to you that any estate known to support the King would be at risk? You left the house unattended.’
‘I did not—or perhaps I should say my stepmother did no such thing. When my father was killed she closed the house—indeed, there were those in Avery, those who supported Parliament who far outnumbered the Royalists, who were glad to see the back of us.’
‘There was also trouble of a different kind, was there not? Before you left your stepmother was accused of being a witch.’ His tone was light, but he watched her closely. ‘Personally I don’t believe there are such things as witches, that it’s all superstitious nonsense.’
‘I’m glad you think so. We did leave for that reason. It was a terrible time for us both, a time of great fear. Dreadful threats were issued against my stepmother—against both of us. At that time all around us women suspected of witchcraft were being brutally tortured and hanged. They used such threatening methods against us that in the end we were left with little choice but to go. We left the estate in the hands of a loyal steward.’
‘He was removed from his post when I bought Bilborough. I had no use for him.’
Jane stared at him in disbelief. ‘You dismissed Silas? But—you had no right.’
‘I had every right. He was your steward, not mine. I did right to dismiss him,’ he said, as calmly as though he was discussing the weather. ‘He had got above himself.’
‘You did not dismiss the housekeeper,’ she pointed out as part of her argument.
‘Mrs Preston is less quarrelsome than your steward.’
Jane wondered at Silas’s fate. She must find out what had happened to him. She had a duty to do that. Ordinary people found that their lot was often worsened with the change of ownership in land consequent upon the confiscations, because the new owners were noticeably less humane than the established proprietors to whom the local inhabitants were familiar.
‘By leaving Bilborough you left your home wide open. Wars are not all won on the battlefield, Mistress Lucas. With the men away fighting whatever cause they support, who do you think should protect the property? It’s the women who keep the enemy from the door, or stop their home being put to the torch.’
‘Or in this particular case to stop black-hearted, conniving scoundrels stealing property and moving in.’
Francis’s face had set itself fast into the implacable mould that would have been instantly recognised by the men under his command. It was the face that had won him many a battle for it showed not a flicker of emotion, nor an inkling of his thoughts. It was cool, self-controlled and as smooth and empty as that of a newly born child.
He moved closer and spoke very quietly, but his eyes glittered with curiosity as he said, ‘Are you insulting me or Parliament, Mistress Lucas?’
‘Oh, much more than that,’ she shot back. ‘I’m criticising every one of those in Parliament who thinks that by imposing order on the human spirit, no matter how absurd and cruel the order, it has achieved something. I am criticising Oliver Cromwell and his censorship. I despise everything he does. So, yes, by all means I am insulting you since not only have you stolen my home, you are a part of all that is in charge of the rottenness which executed King Charles I.’
‘I would advise you to have a care what you say. For your own sake you must learn to guard your tongue more stringently. People have been executed for less. Your words are treasonable and therefore dangerous—for you. The war is over. You must learn to live with its consequences.’
‘I shall, just like everyone else, but I believe Cromwell is now presented with a civilian battlefield with as many doubts and perplexities as those of the war.’
‘I couldn’t agree more, but they will be dealt with. Your reference to the dead King Charles implies the existence of a Charles II.’
Curling her lip with disdain, Jane dared to present a statement not altogether respectful. ‘I cannot and will not accept a Protectorate should Oliver Cromwell become Lord Protector. Charles II will take the throne one day. You will see.’
Unable to ignore what had every element of being a disparaging challenge, Francis made a point of elevating his brow to a sceptical level. ‘Like it or not, Mistress Lucas, you will have to live under the Commonwealth. And I did not steal your home. It belonged to Parliament. I had the support of local officials and others of purported authority. You are not alone in having property confiscated. Other examples occurred all over England.’
‘I am not a delinquent, Colonel,’ Jane replied coldly. ‘I am aware of that. I also know that when the Puritan Roundhead regime introduced sequestration against the royalists, involving the removal of their estates and rents from their possession, in most cases they were subsequently able to regain them in return for a fine calculated as a proportion of the value of the estate.’
‘That is true.’
‘Good. I’m glad we agree on something. I shall go to the correct committee and demand that the estate be returned to my possession.’
A flash of annoyance darkened his eyes. ‘Demand? Really, Mistress Lucas, to use such language in front of the Committee for Compounding in London would mean certain failure. To apply would be a more appropriate term. Do you not agree?’
Jane’s cheeks flamed at his attempt to give her a lesson in etiquette. ‘Whatever it takes to retrieve Bilborough I shall do. So I advise you not to get too comfortable.’
‘You are desperate and desperation should never be underestimated. I am sure you are an exceptional woman in persuading others to do your bidding—but you have no idea what you will be up against.’
‘I’m no weakling who gives in at the first obstacle. Women are more resourceful than men give us credit.’
‘I know many who are on both sides, but such fire and vehemence—you are a veritable tigress, Mistress Lucas.’
‘And you are insufferably rude, Colonel Russell.’
‘But always honest.’
Jane stepped back, her eyes flashing with the force of her anger and the heat that was beginning to consume her body. ‘Do not mock me, sir. I am serious. I shall not give up on this.’
‘Do as you must, but you will be wasting your time.’ He encountered her hostile gaze and smiled.
It was a disconcertingly pleasant smile, and the fact that even through a haze of anger and acute physical misery and social embarrassment she could recognise it as such increased Jane’s hostility. ‘We shall see. I shall do whatever it takes to have you removed from this house.’
‘And fail. Two categories are exempted from applying—those who were the King’s top men, and those who are both Catholics and Royalists. Your father belonged to the latter.’
‘He was not a Catholic.’
‘No, but he was a staunch Royalist. Therefore his estate was confiscated and sold—to me.’
‘Aye, with money plundered from the Royalists, I don’t doubt.’
His eyes glittered like ice. ‘I am no thief, Mistress Lucas. I have got where I am by my ability to succeed. Right now you are distraught and angry—and rightly so, since I can imagine how you must feel on knowing the place you have called home is no longer that, so I shall ignore what you have said. But know this. The money with which I purchased this house was earned in honest occupation, so please don’t accuse me of being a thief again.’
Jane stared at him, white and rigid. Something warned her that she dared much with her open disdain. She thought here was a man who revealed nothing of his thoughts and passions, and he ruled himself like steel. Lowering her gaze, she nodded. ‘Of course.’
‘Just one more thing, Mistress Lucas. You say you will travel to London to face the Committee for Compounding.’
‘What of it?’
‘Will you have the money with which to pay the fine? Bilborough is a sizeable estate. Should the Committee consider your application, the sum will be considerable.’
Jane stared at him. So confident had she been that she would be able to simply walk into Bilborough and carry on as though nothing had happened, she had given no thought to any of this.
‘No,’ he said, taking her silence as assent. ‘I thought not.’ He cocked an eye at her, the light from the leaping flames in the hearth setting strange shadows dancing around them. The lights flickered over his thick hair, outlining his face. He looked down at her. She had allowed her guard to slip a notch, showing her distress. She looked so young, innocent and vulnerable and her pride was hurting, and for some unknown reason he felt a fierce, uncontrollable urge to protect her. A gentle smile touched his lips.
‘So, Mistress Lucas, it would seem you are homeless.’
She bowed her head. Though her face did not flinch, Jane could feel her anger mingled with her distress simmering inside her, but knowing he was observing her and feeling the indignity of her position, impelled her to raise her head bravely. ‘It would appear so,’ she replied tightly.
‘You have travelled from Northampton, I believe.’ She nodded. ‘Alone?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then you are more reckless than I thought. Can you not return to Northampton?’
‘No—I cannot do that,’ she replied haltingly, lowering her eyes to hide the painful memories his question evoked. ‘It—it is out of the question.’
He stared at her for a moment, seeing her anxiety, but he did not comment on it. Biting back an admiring smile, he watched her struggle to maintain a cold façade in the face of his silent scrutiny, and he marvelled that she could convey so many things without moving or speaking. She was outrageously daring and untempered by wisdom or hampered by caution, and he wondered why she had left Northampton. Was it merely because she had wanted to come home, or something more sinister than that? Had she been driven out by desperation?
Curious as to the cause of it, he turned his head away lest he be seen with the expression on his face of the deep, welling, growing emotion she aroused in him. Deep, yes, ever since she had hurtled so precipitously into his life just moments before.
‘And you have no family you can go to?’
‘No. I have no family.’ Beginning to realize the true gravity of her situation, an awful lump of desolation swelled in Jane’s throat as she folded her hands in her lap and tried to think what to do next.
As if he read her thoughts and not unacquainted with hardship—he had not forgotten the pain of it—he said, ‘I am not as heartless or as unfeeling as I might sound. At least let me offer you accommodation. My invitation that you remain as my guest still stands,’ he offered, hoping she would, astonishing himself.
‘I must reject your invitation. I will not inhabit the same house as a Roundhead,’ she replied.
Francis was relieved that her reply sounded more of a statement than a heated exchange of anger. ‘No, I though not. So—where are you planning to go?’
‘That is no concern of yours.’
‘Humour me,’ he said drily. ‘You have to go somewhere.’ When she didn’t reply and continued to look down at her hands, trying to hold on to his patience, in exasperation he said, ‘Mistress Lucas, are you always this disagreeable and stubborn?’
She glanced up at him. ‘My father always told me that I have a unique talent for it.’
Glancing down at her, Francis thought he glimpsed a shadow of a smile curving her soft mouth as she lowered her head once more. ‘I’m beginning to realise that. Might I make a suggestion?’
‘Please do.’
‘Your steward’s house is empty. You could stay there for the time being …’ A smile touched his lips. ‘Rent-free, naturally.’
‘That won’t be necessary. I may not have the money to pay the fine on Bilborough, but I am not destitute. I can pay my way.’
‘So you agree to live in the steward’s house?’
‘I am left with no choice.’
‘But you do have a choice.’
The dark eyes narrowed. ‘And I told you that I will not stay under the same roof as a Roundhead.’
‘As you wish.’ He turned away from her and shoved another log into the fire with his booted foot. ‘But I wonder if all that pride of yours will keep you warm at night and your belly full.’
Jane lowered her gaze, too aware of her situation to make any denials. ‘One must be practical.’
‘My thoughts exactly.’ His hard blue eyes narrowed as they took in her uncovered head and gown in one coldly speculative glance, and he raised his brows. ‘In which case, might I suggest that unless you wish to draw attention to yourself from the authorities, you remove what you are wearing and dress yourself in normal apparel.’
Burning colour flooded her face, and placing her hands in the small of her waist, she moved closer to him, glaring at him, her eyes overbright with an oncoming fever. ‘Dear me, sir, you really are a Puritan through and through, aren’t you—condemning those who are given to frivolity and prefer to wear lace and silken-coloured gowns instead of the morbid black of a crow. No doubt you think there is too much laughter in the world, too many people intent on enjoying themselves, no matter what the cost to their immortal souls.’
Francis became still and Jane’s breath caught as he stepped nearer.
All his senses completely involved with her, Francis felt an overwhelming desire to take her arms and shake some sense into her, or to drag her into his own. Her soft ripe curves beckoned him, made his body starved of a woman for too long ache with the want of her. Her loveliness quickened his very soul, stirring his mind with imaginings of what loveliness lay hidden from view beneath her provocative red dress. It was a long time since he had felt this need in him to feel the warmth of a woman, to sweep her up in his arms and ease the lust in his loins. Were he to do so, he could well imagine Miss Lucas’s outrage.
A lazy smile crept across his face and Jane’s heart skipped a beat. Francis Russell had a smile that could melt a glacier. All she was conscious of was a sense of complication and confusion. Everything had suddenly changed. His powerful, animal-like masculinity was an assault on her senses. Moistening her lips, she could almost feel her body offer itself to this man, this Roundhead, this stranger—and yet he wasn’t a stranger, not to her, and in that instant they both acknowledged the forbidden flame ignited between them.
Francis drew a ragged breath, wishing he could understand why she seemed so familiar to him. By an extreme effort of will he replied casually, ‘I am a man of the Civil War. That does not make me a Puritan who would tell you to cover yourself and say that your appearance is unseemly in the eyes of the Lord—that your breasts are as wantonly exposed as your brazen, flaunting hair.’
The warmly mellow tones of Colonel Russell’s voice were imbued with a rich quality that seemed to vibrate through Jane’s womanly being. To her amazement, the sound evoked a strangely pleasurable disturbance in areas far too private for an untried virgin even to consider. As evocative as the sensations were, she didn’t quite know what to make of them. She glanced up at him, cheeks aflame.
‘Then since you are not a Puritan, Colonel Russell, you would not say those things?’ He shook his head. ‘So my state of dress, immodest as it is, would not trouble you?’
‘Not in the slightest, but for your own safety you would do well to heed my words.’
‘Oh, I shall, sir, but I will continue to wear what I please. Nothing you may say or do will persuade me to discard this dress. And you cannot force me to do so.’
