Moonspun Magic

by Catherine Coulter

  “Please, please,” she said, not looking up at him, “leave me alone. I won’t come back with you, I won’t.”

  Rafael stood over her crumpled figure. She was quite young; he could hear it in her voice. As for how pretty she was, he couldn’t tell. She’d drawn her cloak closely about her, the hood over her head. “Whatever are you talking about?” he asked reasonably, dropping to his knees beside her.

  He reached out his hand to help her, and she shrank from him. She raised her face, and even in the shadowy light from the moon, he read terror in her eyes.

  “I won’t hurt you.”

  “Liar. That’s all you’ve wanted to do. Now you’ve caught me, damn you.”

  He stilled, even as she tried to roll away from him.

  “Who are you?”

  Victoria vaguely heard his ridiculous question, but her pain was too great for her to say anything at the moment, her pain and her despair. Odd, but his voice sounded a bit different, a bit less smoothly polished, like his clothing.

  She said finally, “What game are you playing with me now?”

  “I’m not playing any game. I’m simply trying to get you away from here safely. Where is your lover? Why isn’t he here?”

  “I don’t have a lover, and well you know it.”

  Rafael shook his head. He was missing something here. “Look, miss, I haven’t the foggiest notion of what you’re talking about. You’re hurt. Let me help you.”

  She’d come up on her knees, but the spasms in her thigh intensified. She fell sideways. She curled up, and sobs broke from her throat. She’d tried so hard. So very hard.

  He wished he could make out her features more clearly in the darkness, but no matter for now—he knew fear well enough when he heard it. She was becoming hysterical. This was all he needed, he thought with growing impatience. The girl had the nerve to come out here, of all places, and now she was falling apart. He tried to make his voice calm and soothing. “I will tell you again. I won’t hurt you. Now, let me get you someplace warm and safe. You’re already hurt.”

  Victoria sucked in her breath. He sounded impatient with her, but not angry. She didn’t understand him. She felt his hand touch her and she flinched.

  She raised her face to look at him. “How did you find me? I was so quiet, so careful.”

  “Find you? I wasn’t looking for you. What is the matter with you? Did you strike your head?”

  “Please, stop lying. You’ve won. There’s nothing more I can do. Certainly I can’t run from you, and well you know it.”

  “I’m not lying. Did you sprain your ankle?”

  It was too much. He was toying with her, like a mouse in some perverted game. “I can’t stop you,” she said, defeat in her voice, defeat and weariness. “Will you simply leave me here when you’re done with me?”

  “Done with you? Done what with you? Did you hit your head? Can you tell me your name?”

  “Stop it! God, I hate you.”

  Rafael slowly got to his feet. He tucked his pistol back into his belt. He said more to himself than to her, “Save a woman’s life and she raves like a bedlamite. Look, miss, even if you hate me, even if you want me to leave you here, I’m not such a villain. No more of your hysterics, if you please. I’ll take you into Axmouth. There’s an inn there that will accommodate the two of us.”

  “No. Dear God, have you forced other females there?”

  “Forced other—” He broke off. She had to have hit her head. She was making no sense at all. “It would help if you told me your name.”

  “I won’t make it easy for you, Damien. I will go nowhere with you willingly.”

  Damien.

  “My God,” he said softly, the truth hitting square between his eyes. His twin after this girl? He said very slowly, firmly, “Shut up and listen to me, all right? Good. You believe I am Damien Carstairs? Baron Drago?”

  “Of course you are. Stop mocking me.”

  “Well, I’m not. Mocking you, that is. As it so happens, I am his twin, Rafael Carstairs. Now, who the devil are you?”

  “His twin?”’ She stared at him fully now. She knew that Damien had a twin, she’d even seen a portrait of him as a young boy. But he’d never shown his face at Drago Hall since she’d arrived there five years before.

  “Yes, his twin. I gather my brother wanted you and you were trying to escape him.”

  Victoria drew a deep, steadying breath. “Yes. Then you came along. I thought you were Damien. You look just like him.”

  “Looks, as well as people, can be deceiving. Now, who the devil are you?”

  “I’m Victoria Abermarle, Elaine’s cousin. I’ve lived at Drago Hall for five years now.”

  Rafael grinned down at her. He dropped to his knees and thrust out his hand. Tentatively she took it. “Hello, Victoria. I have this awful feeling that I’ve just dropped into a bloody mess. However, one thing at a time. Will you come with me? We’ll see to your ankle. You sprained it, did you not?”

  She shook her head. “No, I shall be fine. I don’t think it wise for me to accompany you, sir.”

  “No choice, sorry. I can’t very well leave you, and you can’t walk an inch. Do you have a horse somewhere?”

  She shook her head. “No. The mail stage stopped some ten miles back. I wanted to keep going. I was afraid.”

  “Of Damien?”

  “Yes. He tried—”

  “I understand.” And indeed Rafael did understand. His damned brother hadn’t changed. In fact, it appeared that he’d grown a good deal worse. His wife’s cousin.

  Without any more hesitation he grasped her under the arms and pulled her up. She didn’t struggle. But once on her feet, he saw the pain on her face. He simply stood there holding her up.

  “I’m sorry, truly. It’s just that—”

  “I can manage.” He swung her up in his arms.

  “My valise,” she said. “I can’t leave it.”

  He sighed, held her close, and leaned down. “Have you every damned piece of clothing you own in here?” he asked as he heaved it under one arm.

  “Yes.”

  “And iron-handled hairbrushes as well?”

  She smiled, her first smile in many a long hour.

  He walked carefully through the undergrowth to where his horse was tethered. “We have a problem. I also have a valise. Well, I shall have to call on all my ingenuity, won’t I?”

  He lifted her up onto the saddle. “Can you hang on?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  He grinned at the insulted snap of her voice. “Here, take your valise.”

  It took a few more minutes of concentration and then he swung up behind her. “Swing your leg over.”

  It was her bad leg. She tried, and gasped as the muscles screamed in protest.

  “Very well, I’ll hang on to you. We’ll go very slowly.” He added, “I’ll fetch you a doctor in Axmouth.”

  “No!”

  “Prickly, aren’t you?”

  Victoria didn’t answer. She was concentrating on staying on the horse’s back. The muscles in her leg knotted and pulled and throbbed.

  “Fate,” Rafael said, staring between his horse’s ears, “is a bloody strange thing.”

  “Yes,” she said, “yes, it is.”

  He tried bits of conversation with her, but she was silent, and he guessed from her unnatural stiffness that she was in pain. But why didn’t she want a doctor?

  When they came into Axmouth, Victoria forced herself to speak. “Mr. Carstairs, if you will take me to this inn you spoke about, I will be fine.”

  “Will you?”

  “Yes. Then you may go about your business.”

  He sighed deeply. “What am I to do with you, Miss Abermarle?”

  “Nothing. I will see to myself.”

  “Just as you did so very well tonight? I don’t suppose you’ve ever heard of the Bishop?”

  “Well, yes, I have. Before tonight, I thought he was just one of those Cornish legends.”


  “Evidently he’s still very much with us. He isn’t at all a man of sterling reputation.”

  “I know,” she said on a weary sigh. “I suppose I should thank you for saving me.”

  “Yes, you should.”

  “Thank you.”

  Rafael pulled the tired horse to a halt in front of the Sir Francis Drake Inn. He wasn’t known here, thank God. “Do you wish to be my sister or my wife?”

  He felt her go perfectly still.

  “Quickly, it must be one or the other.”

  “Sister.”

  “Very well.”

  A stable lad was there, thankfully, and Rafael tossed him their valises. Slowly, careful not to hurt her, he dismounted, Victoria close against his chest. Her arm was around his neck. “Good girl,” he said against her ear.

  If the innkeeper didn’t believe them to be related, he didn’t say anything. He did, however, assign them adjoining rooms, a fact that made Rafael shake his head at the cynicism of his fellowman.

  He carried Victoria into her small bedchamber and gently eased her down onto the bed. A maid stood close by, lighting a branch of candles.

  “You may go now,” Rafael said over his shoulder. He didn’t turn, for he was staring down at Victoria Abermarle. Even dusty, a smudge of dirt on her cheek, her hair wildly disheveled, he saw that she was a beauty. And young, as fresh as a new winter snowfall. Chestnut hair, thick and lustrous, and blue eyes—not a faded, washed-out blue, but a vivid dark blue. No wonder Damien wanted her.

  Victoria, in her turn, was looking up at him. He was so much like Damien, even those silver-gray eyes of his, that she flinched unconsciously in fear. Even in the light, she saw but one major difference—this man was deeply tanned. Unfortunately, the tan would fade.

  “You are so like him.”

  “Yes, as I told you, we are twins. Now, I am off to fetch you a doctor for your ankle.”

  “No, please don’t.”

  He heard the anxiety in her voice and frowned down at her. “Why ever not? You are obviously in pain. At least the doctor could dose you with laudanum.”

  She shook her head. “Please, just leave me. I’ll pay you for your trouble. I’ll leave in the morning.”

  Rafael said abruptly, “Have you had your dinner?”

  She shook her head.

  “Nor have I, and I’m hungry.”

  He strode to the door and left her alone.

  Victoria stared about the bedchamber. It was spartan, with only the single narrow bed, a rough-hewn dresser, and a very old armoire in the far corner. There was a small circular table against the single window, two chairs beside it. A commode and a washbasin were, thankfully, close by. She forced herself to rise, gritting her teeth at the protesting muscles in her leg. She washed her face and hands and removed her cloak.

  Rafael quietly opened the door to see his young charge clinging to the bedpost, breathing hard, her head lowered.

  He noted on a purely male level that her body seemed to be as lovely as her face. Slender, tall for a girl, and as soft-looking as sweet butter.

  “Come,” he said, “let me help you. Our dinner will arrive in a few moments.”

  Victoria closed her eyes a moment, getting a grip on herself.

  Rafael didn’t move. He said only, “Can I assist you?”

  He could see the quiver in her shoulders, see her arguing with herself. To trust him.

  She decided in his favor, for she nodded.

  Without another word he picked her up in his arms again, carried her to the table, and gently set her down on one of the chairs.

  He moved away from her and sat in the opposite chair. He saw her lean her head back, close her eyes, and knew she was trying to control the pain.

  “May I call you Victoria?”

  “If you wish. I suppose it isn’t any more improper than all of this.”

  “No, you’re right about that. Call me Rafael.”

  “That is an odd name.”

  “Surely you must know that my mother was Spanish. It was her wish.”

  “Yes, I suppose I did know. But Damien never spoke of you, at least in my presence.”

  “No, I don’t imagine that he would. Ah, our dinner.”

  He helped the serving maid with the tray. Delicious smells of roast lamb curled toward Victoria’s nostrils and her stomach rumbled.

  Rafael grinned. “Not a moment too soon, I’d say. Do you also like mashed potatoes and peas?”

  Her stomach answered for her. He smiled and served her.

  Under the cover of the table, she massaged her thigh. Slowly the muscles began to ease, the painful spasms growning more tolerable. As she gained control of the pain, she began to see everything more clearly. For all she knew, this twin could be as bad as his brother, or even worse.

  They ate in silence.

  “Where are you going?” she asked finally, wiping a drop of gravy from her lower lip.

  “To London. Unfortunately, my ship is in Falmouth under repair, so I couldn’t sail there.”

  London.

  “I have business in London,” he added.

  She met his eyes. “So have I.”

  Rafael cracked a walnut between his long fingers. “Oh? Were you planning to walk there?”

  “No, I have twenty pounds. Rather, I have eighteen pounds now. I didn’t realize the cost of things. I shall have to be careful.”

  “Did you steal the twenty pounds?”

  Her eyes flew to his face, but his concentration was seemingly on the walnut meat.

  “Not that I blame you, of course. I wonder what Damien will do. I wonder what he has done already. I assume he would know you’re long gone.”

  He looked up at that moment and saw her go perfectly white. He felt like a bounder, scaring her like that.

  “You didn’t stop at Drago Hall?”

  “No, I didn’t. Look, Victoria, I can’t leave you here. Do you have relatives in London? Anyone who could take you in? Were you going to someone?”

  She shook her head and at the same time said quickly, “Yes.”

  “Ah.”

  “I will pay you for this room and for the meal. How much was it?”

  “Eighteen pounds,” he said mildly. He poured himself some thick black coffee, warmed his hands on the mug, and sat back in his chair, at his ease.

  “You’re not a gentleman.”

  “It appears to me that you haven’t experienced many gentlemen in your life thus far. Actually, I suppose I am, but I also understand that it would be difficult for you to judge. Now, what am I going to do with you?”

  “I’ll leave tomorrow. Alone.”

  “With your eighteen pounds?”

  “Yes.”

  “The devil you will,” he said. He rose and stretched, then turned toward her, his features softening.

  She felt herself go rigid with fear.

  4

  Comparisons are odorous.

  —SHAKESPEARE

  “My God,” Rafael said, coming to an abrupt stop. “Did he frighten you so much, then? You believe I am like him? You’re afraid of me?”

  “No. Yes. Go away.”

  “Very clear. Thank you.”

  “It is just that you look so very alike and . . .” She stopped and drew a deep breath. “I’m sorry, it’s not your fault.”

  “But you’re wondering if blood runs the same in twins? Bad blood or good blood?”

  She raised her face at his serious tone. “No, really not. Indeed, I’ve never known twins before.”

  “Nor have I, for that matter. Suffice it to say I am not Damien. I would appreciate it if you would cease comparisons. Now, does your ankle still pain you?”

  “No,” she said sharply, wishing he would simply drop the subject. “Really, I’m fine now. I want to go to bed.”

  That, he thought, careful to keep his features expressionless, was an excellent idea. He was frankly surprised at his reaction to her. He’d certainly met and bedded more beautiful women. Not that she w
asn’t lovely, of course. It was just that . . . Oh, the devil. He didn’t know what it was about her. Lord knew he wasn’t in the market for a damned wife. Wife? He was losing his mind, that was it. He shook his head at himself, saying as he did so, “Shall I order up a bath for you?”

  Victoria felt sweaty and dusty. She knew that warm water would soothe the muscles in her leg. She nodded gratefully. “I must look a skelter-patty.”

  “No, just something of an urchin.”

  She was still sitting in the chair when he returned some five minutes later. “It will be up soon,” he said, sitting across from her. “Did you eat enough?”

  “Yes. The lamb was delicious, the carrots not overcooked, the potatoes—”

  “All right, I’m not your nanny. Now, tell me about the baron.”

  “There’s really not all that much to tell. I simply couldn’t let him come into my room and . . .”

  Her voice faded into the wainscoting, and Rafael didn’t push.

  “All right, we’ll leave that for the moment. I gather you have no wish to return to Drago Hall?”

  “I will never go back there. Never.”

  “What about your cousin, Elaine?”

  “I don’t know,” Victoria said, lowering her head, her eyes on her clenched hands.

  “You didn’t speak to her, then, about her husband’s behavior toward you?”

  “No, I did not. You see, Elaine is increasing. The baby is due after Christmas. So I really couldn’t upset her, not in her condition. I really didn’t know what to do. I think, however, that she has guessed something. She became more curt toward me.”

  Looking at her, Rafael didn’t doubt it. But still, the thought of a man taking advantage of a young lady under his protection made his stomach turn. Her jaw was stubborn, he saw. She’d refused to stay and become a victim. She’d escaped with but twenty pounds. Yes, very stubborn. He admired that.

  “Here’s your bath. We will speak some more when you’re finished. I trust you have a dressing gown in that valise?”

  “Why?” she said, looking at him blankly.

  “Because,” Rafael said with exaggerated patience, “I wish to speak to you about what we’re going to do. I have no wish to frighten you again.”