The Deadliest Sin

by Caroline Richards

  No home. No family. No life. Julia’s heart contracted and she knew why he was telling her, exposing a wound that was an infinitely more personal act than the physical intimacy they had shared hours before.

  “Exploration is what I am. It’s what I do. I push beyond my limits, go where no one else dares to go. It is what has led me to Faron—a very dangerous man—who has what I want. Who has the power to feed my unquenchable hunger for discovery because of what he knows.”

  His thumb traced the underside of her jawline, the rhythm as mesmerizing as the rise and fall of the ocean’s waves. “I am being as honest as I can with you. Talk to me, Julia. Why are you silent?”

  She could do nothing but smooth her palm over the linen stretched taut against his chest. He caught her wandering hand in his and drew her fingers to his lips. She wanted only to snatch her fingers back, very much aware of the weakness stealing through her, even more aware that only her crumbling resolve would keep her from succumbing to that powerful man.

  Strathmore was telling the truth, she was sure of it, and her heart surged with understanding for him. Yet something still held her back. Her throat worked desperately against the dark emotion welling in her breast.

  “Tell me what it is, Julia. I can help you.”

  Her gaze flew to his, then just as quickly darted away. Surely a man as astute as Strathmore would see through the feeble attempts she made to veil her feelings, the attempts to keep the darkness at bay. She knew she should reveal nothing, and that he could see completely into her soul with a frightening acuity.

  “You’re trembling,” he said, his hands cupping her upper arms. “I shared a part of my life with you, a difficult, painful time that I could only overcome once I acknowledged it, honestly and directly in the harsh light of day. I shall ask again—what is it, Julia? It will help if you finally let it out, I promise you.”

  She shook her head, unable to give voice to words that could catapult her back into the dark tunnel she had struggled so hard to emerge from.

  But he persisted. “Now more than ever, Julia. For so many reasons.”

  Her stomach tightened at the implication in his voice, hinting at the complexity of the situation, the lives held in the balance. She thought of Lowther and Faron, a biting fear gnawing at her stomach, her senses telling her that Strathmore was holding back, waiting, wanting her to bare her soul not just for her own deliverance from the past but for the salvation of others. Meredith and Rowena. She whispered the two names under her breath, her mouth dry. “What are you not telling me?” she murmured in a small, pained whisper. “Please, Strathmore, what are you not telling me?”

  “That is a question you must answer first,” he said. “Until you do, you will continue to retreat into yourself when you are pressed.” He watched her like a scientist observing an insect under glass, awareness flickering in his eyes.

  “I do not wish to speak of it,” she said. “I can’t.”

  “It would be better if you did,” he growled, his fingers digging into her arms.

  “You cannot control everything. You cannot control me.” The tears flowed then, humiliating as they were, and she twisted her fists into his shirt. “Despite what happened last night, despite what you have revealed to me about your childhood and the choices you have made in your life, I am not someone you can manipulate to do your bidding. I entreat you to stop pushing me. You may have found success with these tactics in the past, but you will succeed only in pushing me further away.”

  “You don’t know what you risk.” His tone was harsh despite the gentleness of his touch as he pressed his handkerchief to her cheeks.

  “Then tell me what I risk,” she said, her voice ragged with desperation. “You say we have little time…” A cold fear pricked along her spine.

  “When you return to Montfort you will see the urgency of the situation.”

  “Tell me now.”

  Strathmore let go of her arms suddenly and stepped away from her. It was as though he had given up, surrendering to the reality of the situation that he could not move heaven and earth and change her mind after all. His voice took on a sharp, crisp enunciation that was underscored with a combination of weariness and impatience. “It concerns your sister.”

  “Rowena?” The few words changed everything. She raised her chin, looking for reassurance and found none. “No,” she said. Her lungs compressed, forcing tortured gasps to spill from her lips. “Don’t tell me…I refuse to listen.” She fought the urge to clasp her palms over her ears.

  “There is no better way to say this.” Strathmore’s voice was flat, his utterance so final and his eyes so distant Julia was forced to look away. “Rowena has been kidnapped.”

  An ache blossomed in Julia’s chest like a bullet hitting its target, the tears instantly drying on her face. The room was silent, the ticking of the clock muffled by the screams erupting noiselessly in her head. Her throat was raw even though no sound escaped her lips, her body suddenly weightless, the walls spinning around her.

  Strathmore should have told her. Immediately. Last night. “Why did you keep this from me?” she asked, stunned. “Answer me!” Only sheer willpower kept her standing. The deep blues of the room spun relentlessly.

  As expected, he offered no response. No explanation. As if he could, as if there was a justification or reason that she could possibly accept. The words were bitter in her mouth. “You’re a cold-hearted bastard.”

  Strathmore had his hand on the door latch already, and he half turned at the sound of her words. His response blistered the air. “Nothing I don’t already know,” he said quietly.

  Chapter 11

  The coachman pushed the horses hard, changing horses three times during the trip to Montfort. Mercifully, there was no opportunity for conversation on the desperate ride north, with Julia inside the carriage and Strathmore galloping alongside.

  A few miles from Montfort, they stopped suddenly among tall old pines on an isolated rural road. As the carriage came to a rest, Julia leaned out the window to see Strathmore on his mount.

  Scanning the landscape in both directions, Julia saw nothing but a ribbon of dusty road. She resisted the urge to hit the side of the carriage to push them onward in their journey. The silhouette of Strathmore with his windswept black hair and powerful frame twisted her stomach in knots. For the first time she recognized that hatred and passion could exist simultaneously.

  Impatience and desperation made her brave. “There is no need to stop, Strathmore.” She drew a deep, steadying breath, placing her hand on the coach’s door handle.

  Strathmore urged the horse toward her, reaching her side.

  “We won’t be here long, I trust. We are a few miles from the village of Hawthorne.” Julia’s cold voice carried in the silence.

  The image of Montfort was framed in her mind’s eye. The local stone of its walls glowed golden in the setting sun of her memory, its windows glittering like jewels set in baronial splendor. She wanted to be home, to see Meredith, with an ache that threatened to shatter her fragile sense of control.

  And then she wanted to run from Montfort toward Rowena—to rescue her sister before it was too late.

  It wasn’t too late. It couldn’t be. They had three days. How bitterly she regretted her outrageous desire to make love with Strathmore, made all the more shameful in the crystalline clarity of that desperate morning. Every decision she had made since leaving Montfort had left her mired in disaster, the shame of her intemperance almost too much to bear. Why Strathmore had not had the honesty to tell her, to warn her of the impending tragedy—. Her mind shut down, anger and worry crowding out further thought.

  Strathmore’s mount snorted, its breath marking the cool morning air. “When we get to Montfort, you will remain behind with your aunt. If you truly wish to help your sister, you will try to convince Meredith to tell us everything she knows.” Strathmore’s voice was clear and distinct in the utter silence, only the metallic jingle of his spurs counterpoint to hi
s stark request.

  “You may leave it to me,” she said, rage and disgust pervading her tone. “If Faron so much as touches Rowena…” Her mind was on the fearful plight of her younger sister and the frustration of a pursuit begun too late. She would do anything, anything to ensure her sister’s safety, including never leaving Strathmore’s side. “I have even less reason to trust you now. And yet I must trust you with my sister’s life. The irony is staggering.” And all but unbearable.

  His eyes darkened to gray smoke.

  “How easily you deceive all who put their trust in you, Strathmore,” she continued, unable to hold back. Her laugh was bitter. “Don’t expect me to believe that you are somehow acting nobly on my family’s behalf.”

  The horse’s head swung away from the carriage door, Strathmore reigning the powerful creature in with a subtle shift of his gloved hands. “Nothing I could say at this point would make any difference.”

  Tears stung hot at the backs of her eyes and she gritted her teeth against the onslaught of ungovernable emotion. “I refuse to believe you would ever sacrifice anything for anyone. Everything you’ve ever done has been self-serving. You have confessed as much yourself. Ambition. Nothing else motivates you. You have sacrificed your own family on its altar.”

  In the morning light, his features were harsher than ever. Despite the rage that threatened to overflow, Julia was beset with other memories, no matter how hard she tried to deny them. Memories of Strathmore in the library, her heated exhortations, asking him to take her to his bed. “Was that part of your ambitious scheme, Strathmore?” she lashed out at him to take the sting of anger from herself. “To seduce me, as I’ve suspected all along, simply to make me more malleable, more eager to tell you something of Faron, the one man you so desperately wish to impress. Did you even consider telling me of Lowther’s plot before you stripped me of my virtue?”

  His mouth was grim. “I wanted you,” he said. “I thought no further than that. It was the truth last evening and it’s the truth now.”

  Julia’s chest heaved with her vehemence, the hatred scoring her tongue. “Such empty words.”

  In response, he turned his mount away from the carriage, riding toward the dusty country road. “We have wasted enough time,” he said over his shoulder. “Let us carry on.”

  A short time later, they’d arrived at the high walls surrounding Montfort. Servants met the carriage, and Julia and Strathmore were rushed up the stairways and through the corridors of the old baronial castle. Julia’s expression was mutinous, impatience in every step, her motions suddenly fluid and without their usual awkwardness or hesitation.

  They were ushered into Meredith Woolcott’s private rooms an instant later. A series of large chambers provided luxurious comforts as well as a magnificent view of the surrounding parkland. The ceiling was ornately plastered, the walls a burnt umber and the floor piled high with carpets.

  Meredith was waiting. Julia rushed into her aunt’s opened arms, the urge to rest her burden almost overwhelming. Shaking with emotion, she breathed in Meredith’s familiar scent of lemon verbena, feeling the steeliness in the line of Meredith’s shoulders, in her attempt to keep control of her emotions for the sake of her ward.

  Too soon, Meredith unlinked her arms from Julia’s waist and took Julia’s hands into her own. Her wide green eyes were the same as always, wise and calm, but with a sorrow in their depths that tortured Julia’s heart at the same time it fanned the flames of vengefulness in her soul.

  “All will be well, I promise you,” Meredith said in her warm, firm voice. “We shall find Rowena.” Her gaze slipped quickly over Julia, reassuring herself that all was well. “I am so relieved to find you safe and unharmed.” Her voice cracked.

  Julia shook with suppressed emotion, watching her aunt collect herself, dimly aware that Strathmore stood back upon the threshold watching them. He had yet to introduce himself, and she told herself she didn’t care what he thought of the drama unfolding before him.

  Lady Meredith Woolcott, with her flaming red hair and regal bearing, was most likely not what he expected. A fierce intelligence shone from her eyes and hers was an ageless beauty. “I received your missive from the messenger you sent late yesterday,” Meredith confirmed. Refusing to let go of Julia’s hands, she led her niece over to a divan and two high backed chairs by the set of oval windows dominating the room. “You cannot imagine my relief…after what I had been told.” She stopped to collect herself. “Dear God, I thought you were dead.”

  With iron discipline and a straight back, Meredith sank into the divan, Julia by her side, still unwilling and unable to release her hands. “Are you certain you are well, my dearest girl, that nothing untoward has occurred? You must tell me.” She paused, her senses heightened. “There is absolutely nothing you should hold back from me. I shall not judge you. None of this could possibly be your fault.”

  Julia flushed, her cheeks burning. She shook her head mutely as Meredith squeezed her hands before releasing them.

  Staring into her own lap for a few moments, Meredith then lifted her head and addressed Strathmore directly. “Thank you, sir, for returning Julia to me unhurt,” she said simply, studying his face with her customary intensity. A small frown marred her brow, as though there was something disturbing in his countenance that she could not account for. “My apologies, but have we met?”

  “Alexander Strathmore,” he returned with a perfunctory bow. “I don’t believe our paths have crossed, Lady Woolcott. Your niece is memorable enough and I would be hard pressed to forget yet another striking Woolcott. No thanks are necessary. However, although I don’t wish to press you at such a difficult moment, we have little time to lose.”

  “I understand all too well, Lord Strathmore.” Meredith continued to search his face.

  “Unfortunately, we do not have the luxury of social niceties.”

  “I require none,” Meredith Woolcott said with a steely edge that belied her elegant bearing. “Simply reassure me that Julia has been well treated.”

  “I think she can answer that question herself.”

  “I am well,” Julia said deliberately looking away from Strathmore. “You must believe me, Meredith.” She shut her eyes briefly and let her head sag against the soft upholstery.

  “We may speak of this later, if you prefer, my dear Julia. But now you and Lord Strathmore most likely require sustenance. I have had the kitchen prepare something for you.”

  Julia opened her eyes, blinking like a wounded animal. “I could not eat a bite at the moment. There is so much to do, to find Rowena.” She hesitated. “Please tell us what happened.”

  “There is little to tell,” Meredith tersely replied.

  “Lord Strathmore promises to help us,” Julia said through clenched teeth. “He has given his word. Have you not, sir?”

  She knew what he must appear to Meredith. Dark, imposing, and dangerous in his dusty riding cloak. She had caught Meredith studying him closely and wondered whether her aunt had heard of his exploits. He had yet to take a seat and didn’t look as though he intended to.

  “If you could tell us exactly when and how Rowena disappeared…Was there a message, a warning, anything?” Strathmore asked.

  Julia watched her own hand scrunch her dusty skirt into a thousand creases. Meredith didn’t say anything for the moment, because if she tried she’d be in tears. Julia could almost hear her thinking that they must be strong, to find a way to journey through this nightmarish maze. When she spoke finally, her voice was decisive.

  “If my ward believes she can trust you to find her sister, then I have no choice but to believe her.” A few tendrils of her hair had escaped her neat chignon, looking like blood spilled across the magenta silk of her shawl.

  “Thank you, madam,” said Strathmore, his voice vibrating very low.

  In a fluid motion, Meredith turned toward a small mahogany box at her elbow, its mother-of-pearl sheen gleaming on the low table at the side of the divan. She quickly
withdrew an envelope and held it out to Strathmore.

  “Read it aloud, please,” he requested.

  “She went for her regular morning ride,” said Meredith, barely audible. “She never returned. My man found this note on the doorstep soon after we deduced she was missing.”

  Julia rested her forehead on her fists. “We know who is behind this. You warned me, Meredith, after all. And I am entirely to blame. Had I not seen fit to walk into what was obviously a trap set by Faron at Eccles House…” She let the sentence trail away.

  Meredith shook her head, the silence stretching out like a dark pool. “It is you who must forgive me,” she said hoarsely. “This has been going on far too long. I only sought to protect you both, but I have obviously failed. I should have done more.”

  “You did what you could,” said Julia, her voice strangled. From the corner of her vision, she saw Strathmore open the creamy envelope, extracting the thick vellum note inside. From where she sat she could see the initialed monogram. MF. Strathmore’s face remained inscrutable. “What does it say?” Julia asked.

  Meredith shook her head wearily, gesturing to Strathmore to continue.

  “It says nothing.” Between his gloved fingers he held a scrap of tartan, hued in light and dark browns interspersed with white.

  “Except for his monogram,” said Meredith bitterly.

  Julia leapt from the divan, throwing up her hands in frustration. “That’s it? A scrap of tartan? We’re to find my sister based on a fragment of fabric?” Julia felt as though her head would explode. “He is evil. He is a monster. He is the devil incarnate, a man so diabolical and twisted that he finds the most torturous means to punish the innocent.”