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“Indeed,” he said. “I understand you perfectly.”
* * *
IT WAS OVER.
It was the fact that thrummed through James’s brain all evening as he fixed his mind on port and cards at the club. The committee had made its decision. He’d raised enough support, after all, and Katherine would keep Dunscore. His debt was paid, and he was free.
Good riddance.
It was the lie he told himself as he emerged, half-drunk, from the club that night and onto the dark street. The rank, misty air hit him full force at the same time as the realization that Katherine and Deal had no way of knowing the committee’s decision. It would take days for the news to reach them in Scotland. She could well end up married to Deal before learning the marriage wasn’t necessary.
Katherine. Married. To Lord Deal.
No.
Bloody, sodding, hell no.
He ground to a halt right there on the pavement. There was no way in hell he could let that happen.
It was the truth that blazed to life inside him right there beneath a sputtering lamppost: He wanted her. Age, insanity, illness—whatever the cause of this flatness inside him, it didn’t matter. She brought him to life, and he didn’t care why. Misguided fascination, carnal lust—none of that mattered.
He wanted her for himself, and he didn’t have to be in love to make it happen. Lust was more than enough. God knew plenty of marriages had been based on less.
Not that she would agree. Katherine would never consider marrying him or anyone else if she knew she held Dunscore outright.
But she didn’t know. Had no way of knowing, until someone brought the news.
God.
If he got there in time—even a day in advance of the post or a messenger—he might be able to...
God. He couldn’t really do it.
Could he?
He imagined how she would rejoice in triumph when she learned of the committee’s vote in her favor. How coldly she would smile as she turned away in disdain from all the men who’d imagined they could tame her.
From him.
Resolution impelled him forward, twice as quickly as before. Oh, yes. He could do it. He would leave for Dunscore immediately. Tonight.
He’d gone no more than twenty paces when someone grabbed him around the neck and yanked him into a dark alley.
“Bloody—” James cursed and fought, but the assailant had caught him by surprise and a moment later James felt his back slam against a wall. “Goddamned blackguard,” a familiar voice growled in his ear. “I ought to kill you right here.”
“I would prefer that you didn’t, Jaxbury. I’d always hoped to die in my bed.” James’s breath came hard and his heart pounded out of his chest. He struggled to inhale past the arm pressing into his throat. “To what do I owe this honor?”
“I told you what would happen if you seduced Katherine.” Clearly Jaxbury had the advantage of sobriety. “You thought I was bluffing?”
“I thought you were smart enough to stay out of other people’s affairs. I don’t know what you think you know—”
“Everything! Phil never could keep a secret worth a damn.” Jaxbury’s arm tightened, he sneered. “Bastard. Didn’t know I needed to see Katherine safely home from the hearing. You knew she’d be forced to marry, so you took advantage for your own designs.”
A rush of fury gave James a momentary advantage and he pushed hard against Jaxbury, breaking the hold. He slammed his fist against Jaxbury’s jaw, half-blind with rage, almost welcoming the pain of Jaxbury’s counterattack. He threw another punch. Jaxbury grabbed him again and together they stumbled from one side of the alley to the other. James gave a nasty kick to Jaxbury’s leg and Jaxbury threw James against the wall. James launched himself against Jaxbury, hurtling the man’s body across the narrow alley and against the wall on the other side, but Jaxbury was back immediately with another hook to James’s jaw. James returned the favor, reeling, and managed to grapple on to Jaxbury’s shoulders at the precise moment Jaxbury grappled on to his.
They stood there, locked eye to eye, breathing raggedly. In the faint lamplight coming from the street, James could see fury in Jaxbury’s eyes. “Bloody coward,” Jaxbury spat, “hiding in White’s while Katherine offers herself up in captivity once again. Some gentleman, you, but I’ll make one out of you yet. We’re going to Dunscore. Tonight. You plowed the field, Croston—you’ll damn well bring in the harvest.”
James wrenched himself away. “You want me to marry Katherine?”
“And you’re going to do it if I’ve got to hold my sword to your balls.”
“She’ll never agree.”
“Got to marry someone, but then, you already know that. Sure as hell isn’t going to be Deal. Not if I have anything to do about it.”
Apparently Jaxbury didn’t know about the committee’s decision. James stared into that hard-edged, sea-weathered face and wondered if Jaxbury might prove an ally in his plan.
Perhaps. But more likely, if Jaxbury knew Katherine did not have to marry at all, he would abandon this protective outrage. All hope of marrying Katherine would be gone.
“As it happens,” James said, “I had already come to the same conclusion on my own.”
“Oh, aye,” Jaxbury said sarcastically, wiping at a trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth. “I can see how you’ve spent the evening thinking of her.”
James crushed a fresh surge of temper. “I leave for Dunscore immediately. Good evening, Jaxbury. It’s been a pleasure.” He turned to go.
“Not a chance,” Jaxbury laughed, falling in step beside him. “We’ll go to Dunscore together.”
“I don’t require an escort.”
Jaxbury gave him a friendly slap on the back. “Then think of it more as an insurance.”
* * *
THEY WERE IN James’s stables when a footman arrived, breathless. “Message for Lord Croston!”
James took the message and tore it open. It was from Admiral Wharton. He read the contents and looked sharply at Jaxbury. “You lying bastard. You would have let me go to Dunscore knowing of this.”
Jaxbury narrowed his eyes. “Don’t have the first idea what you’re talking about.”
James thrust the note at him. Jaxbury took it. Read. Visibly paled. “Good God.”
“She’s fled,” James said flatly.
“No. Not Katherine.”
“Of course, Katherine.”
“I’m telling you,” Jaxbury ground out, “she would not have done this.”
But she must have. “Who else would sail the Possession out of London in the dead of night, bold as balls?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO (#ulink_10ba234a-a549-5461-bc30-25144d6bd779)
KATHERINE FACED THE wind coming off the sea and tried to pretend its cold bite was what stung her eyes to tears. Damnation. She was stronger than this. She knew better. Clouds churned in the sky, and whitecaps chopped the gray, restless water. A cool, salty breeze whipped her hair and chilled the damp tracks on her cheeks.
“Are you crying again, Mama?” Anne asked.
Sometimes it would be nice if her daughter weren’t quite so perceptive. “A little. But you mustn’t worry.”
“The sound of the waves makes me happy, Mama. If you listen, they might make you happy, too.”
Katherine reached for Anne’s hand and turned, pulling strands of hair from her face to stare at the fortress that was Dunscore. “Perhaps they will at that.” But the sound of waves on Dunscore’s shore only brought the memories back more strongly. Yesterday this place had been a ghost—as lost to her as the girl she’d been the last time she stepped over its threshold. But the moment the coach had rolled to a stop outside Dunscore’s massive doors, what was dead had sprung to life.
Home. Home. Home.
Her heart thundered the word she knew better than to reach for.
“Mama, you’re squeezing.”
Katherine loosened her grip. “I’m sorry, dearest.” Where the east tower once stood, a pile of rubble now sat.
Fortify the east tower! What a silly muffin you are, Katie. That tower has stood for six hundred years, and mark my words, it will stand for six hundred more. Come—let us order the phaeton. I fancy a fast ride and a visit to Deal.
Oh, Papa.
Across the velvety landscape that hugged Dunscore’s walls she spotted the housekeeper Martha marching toward them, her crisp white apron billowing in the wind. Katherine already knew what the message was: Lord Deal had arrived.
One night’s reprieve was all she could afford. Today, she and Lord Deal would discuss an arrangement. It was imperative that she marry before the committee could decide against her. Lord Deal was the only one she would consider, and she would need to make that very clear to him.
Lord Deal, I insist that we marry. No, that didn’t sound right at all.
Lord Deal, I assure you I would make a most biddable wife. He would never believe it.
Lord Deal, you are my only hope. Pathetic.
Nothing sounded right. Nothing felt right. But of course it wouldn’t. This was a last resort. A desperate situation.
And you are in love with another man.
She pushed the thought of James away. “Come,” she said to Anne, tugging lightly on her hand. “I see Martha.” Martha’s disapproving scowl, to be precise. Its sternness matched the imposing gray walls behind her as she met them partway along the trail that led from the castle to the sea.
“Ach, Katie!” Martha cried, fisting her hands on her hips. “You canna see him looking like this!”
“Will I scare him away, do you think?” She looped her arm through Martha’s, honestly unsure whether to hope for or dread the possibility. She should have been inside preparing for Lord Deal’s visit, having her hair carefully coiffed and powdered and her face brightened with a subtle layer of paint. Instead, she would receive her future husband looking as wild as this place where the rocky shore touched the North Sea.
“The most terrible demon would be scared away by the likes of you,” Martha humphed, and Anne giggled. The three of them headed back to the keep, Anne’s hand in Katherine’s, and Katherine’s arm in Martha’s, the sea wind pushing at their backs. With each step, Katherine’s nerves swirled in fearful eddies in her belly.
Once she and Lord Deal came to an agreement, all this unpleasantness would soon be finished. And Anne’s place would be secure.
Miss Bunsby met them outside the door and took Anne. “But I want to greet Lord Deal, Mama,” Anne complained.
“Next time, dearest. I have business to discuss with him now.” If only she could put off the inevitable forever.
“Will you ask him about the phaeton?”
“I will ask.”
Martha still clucked and fussed after Miss Bunsby took Anne upstairs, brushing at Katherine’s dress and trying to pull her hair together. “At least have your hair done up, Katie,” she begged, clearly distressed. “What will he think of you like this?”
“He will think I’ve been enjoying the wilds of Dunscore. He’s seen me in gowns and jewels, Martha. It will be all right.”
“Humph.”
Katherine looked down the stone corridor that led toward the main hall. Light streamed into the arched passageway through a row of windows down the east side. A line of unlit sconces disappeared into the shadows.
Catch me, Papa! The ghost of the little girl she’d been ran headlong toward the end, laughing, pounding her feet on the stones.
Her grown-up feet did not want to move. Martha’s hands stilled and went to her face. “Don’t worry, Katie. They won’t dare take this place from you,” she said forcefully. And then, more softly, “Maybe his lordship can do something to help.”
A wild laugh rose up in her throat. She wanted desperately to put her arms around Martha and tell her everything just like she used to do after Mama died. But she couldn’t afford to break down now, so she kissed Martha’s cheek and gently set her away. “Perhaps he can at that.” She would tell Martha soon enough that Dunscore would, indeed, remain hers.
Anne’s voice drifted down the corridor. “Wait, Miss Bunsby. I want to feel the floor. I think it is made of great, giant stones!”
I shall step on every stone in the corridor, Papa. How long do you suppose it will take me?
Finally her feet moved.
* * *
“WELL, KATHERINE, WHAT do you think of your old home?” Lord Deal’s voice rang out but was quickly absorbed by the main hall’s vastness. Fires crackling in four fireplaces barely touched the cool, damp air, and he stood near the closest one holding out his hands. He turned now, and behind him the hall arched toward the sky.
“I think it is in dire need of repair.” Katherine walked toward him, her footsteps silent on the wide carpets, then muted on ancient wood planks. Giant paintings lined the walls—hunting scenes, battle scenes, scenes of Dunscore itself. Each one was like a piece of her, she knew them so well even after a lifetime away. On the opposite side, narrow windows rose toward the ceiling and let in the cloudy day’s muted light. Great iron chandeliers hung from the ceiling. Only two were lit, but the glow from dozens of candles helped chase away the gloom. “There was a time when I had great plans for it.” Plans that had included an addition to the north wing drafted by her great-great-grandfather. How many hours had she spent studying those old yellowed plans while Papa was away at his card games?
“Surely that time has come again,” Lord Deal said. She held out a hand that threatened to tremble, and he kissed it. “A pleasure, as always,” he told her kindly. “You’ve been outside. The weather’s a bit chill, is it not? Oh, but the sea is lovely on a day like this.”
“Yes, lovely.” His hand was warm and firm.
“And how is dear Anne faring?”
“Very well, except that I haven’t a moment’s peace with her asking when we might ride in your phaeton again.”
“She has but to say the word,” he declared, laughing.
“I will caution you now to set limits, or you’ll be spending more time in the phaeton than you ever dreamed possible.” She tried to smile, but fear made it too hard.
Lord Deal must have seen it, because his laughter faded. “I’m very sorry things weren’t resolved in precisely the way we’d hoped,” he said soberly. “But all will be well as soon as you marry—the committee will have no reason to rule against you then—and I feel certain it won’t be as bad as you think.” He smiled and patted her hand.
“Of course,” she said, and tried to return his smile. “Now please, do sit down and let’s discuss the details.”
