Fire Dragon's Angel

by Barbara Blythe

  Ceressa stared at him as though he’d grown fangs and a third eye. He shifted in his saddle.

  “Passage? Home? To England?”

  “Exactly. I’ve decided you would be better off under Sir—my father’s care. I plan to send April and Mariette with you. I’ll also dispatch a letter to my attorney to see to your every comfort in the event you discover”—here he paused as he collected his thoughts, wishing such could be but aware the timing would be terrible—“you are with child. Under no circumstances do I wish you to suffer because of my selfish indulgence.”

  A silent chasm formed and widened as Ceressa sat there staring at him, making him wish he could disappear. He’d handled the matter ineptly and callously. Could there be a larger dolt in all of England or America? Birds twittered, the two horses shifted and snorted, and somewhere far off, a dog barked.

  “When I asked to be returned to England, you refused to listen to me. Now you decide to send me home?”

  “The danger is growing. I thought you would be safer with me. Now I know better. The danger here is greater than whatever you might face in London. I know that Geoffrey would never allow any harm to befall you. Nor would Reva. She would spirit you out of the country and take you on one of her famous journeys. You’d enjoy that. “

  Tension crackled as a dark cloud passed over the sun. Most likely a summer storm would soon be upon them. Anger burned in Ceressa’s beautiful eyes.

  “Would you really like to know what I’d enjoy? Being married to a man who isn’t always trying to prove his superiority. You may not believe this, but you don’t have all the answers, and you don’t possess the power to manipulate events in a way that assures you of the results you desire. Only God has that power. So, you’re ready to send me home. As for your ‘selfish indulgence,’ you needn’t concern yourself with consequences.” Tears now slipped from the corners of her eyes. “You, Latimer Kirkleigh, are reprehensible and oafish. You make Torrence Willshire look the saint. I don’t know why you’re so worried about my welfare. You could be rid of an unwelcome burden should something happen to me.”

  Her words erased what remained of Latimer’s logical, rational mind. The mere thought of looking upon her lifeless body, her lips stilled forever upon this earth, and her soft body cold in death sent spasms of angry terror racing through him. Sending Firewind forward, he closed the distance between them. He grabbed her arm, and a gasp escaped from those lips he only wished to kiss.

  Her eyes widened and her breathing quickened.

  He could easily drown in those beckoning violet-brown pools.

  “Let me go,” she demanded. His restraint snapped. Ceressa had fought him at every turn, disobedient to the extreme and careless of her own safety while hurling insults at him at every opportunity. Blast it all, it was time she understood who could better make appropriate decisions. Pulling her toward him, her face tilted up to his. Ceressa’s lips, parted in shock, proved too great a temptation. Grasping her chin, he crushed his mouth hard upon hers, hoping to banish her resistance to him in all ways and in all manner. Yet, even as the thought penetrated his angry haze, he was struck by the wrongness of his actions. Christ never used force to bend or mold others to His will. It was not His way and shouldn’t be Latimer’s. He immediately relaxed his hold, and Ceressa wrenched her mouth from his.

  “You contemptible bully. You can’t force me to do your bidding. For months, I’ve been beset with worry over my parents, and you refused to allow me to so much as send a letter to Sir Geoffrey in the hopes he could do something for them. Now, because you’ve made the decision, you believe I should return to England when it’s too late for me to be of any assistance. I’ll have you know, I’ll be the one to decide if I’m returning to England. And it just so happens that suits me perfectly. I’ll be thrilled to be back among people who genuinely care for me.”

  Righting herself, she grasped Nosegay’s reins. Without another word, she turned the horse about and put her to a gallop heading toward the cottage. Latimer remained motionless, painfully aware that though he’d won, he’d lost much more in the process.

  ****

  There was no sleep for Ceressa that night as she paced the bedchamber, the anger inside her growing and intensifying with each turn she made about the room. The nerve of Latimer—the unmitigated gall of the man to send her home now. Now, when she didn’t want to leave. Not that she didn’t long to know what had become of her parents.

  Ceressa had to stifle a sob. Blast that pigheaded authoritarian. How dare he turn her life upside down? And what of Mariette, who was most likely crying into her pillow? The girl was very fond of Bengie, and Ceressa believed he felt the same. What chance did they have now to find happiness?

  And precious April. April was part of this wild, beautiful land. “Lord, I’m lost and at my wit’s end,” she whispered into the darkness broken only by the light of a single candle. “I love Latimer. I don’t want to leave him to fight so many battles all alone.”

  Tell him the truth. It was as simple as that. She supposed she’d known it all along, but something always held her back. There was no denying what was in her heart. The time for pretense had ended.

  Slipping on her dressing gown, she tied it securely about her. Leaving the room, she looked in on April, who blissfully slept in the smaller room across from hers. After descending the stairs, she continued on into the hall. Latimer, seated in a chair in the tiny parlor with its single burning candle, faced the dying embers in the hearth, his head in his hands. As though he sensed her presence, he straightened and quickly turned. His face was drawn and haggard, his eyes tired and defeated. Without thinking through her actions, she quickly went to him and knelt before him. As she touched his bearded jaw, he shuddered then grasped her hand and brought it to his lips. All the earlier anger faded, and she longed to be in his arms.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Ceressa and Latimer stared at each other then laughter sprang to their lips simultaneously.

  “We’re quite the pair,” Latimer said, his voice husky, sparking something warm and welcome within her. “We’re two stubborn, hard-headed souls who are far too determined for our own good. You should be abed. Tomorrow will be a hard day for all of us.”

  Ceressa drew a deep breath. It was now or never. “I wasn’t truthful earlier. I refuse to return to England.”

  Fire Dragon's Angel

  29

  “I love you, Latimer.” Her words amazed and confounded. “You can’t force me to leave.”

  Latimer stared at Ceressa, stunned by her declaration of love, cherishing her spirit, and dreading the argument that was inevitable.

  “Ceressa, abide by my wishes. I was wrong to bring you here. My motives were selfish and fueled by anger at my father. Neither you nor April should be endangered because I harbor a grudge. Please don’t fight me on this. I don’t think I can hold out against your pleas.”

  “Then don’t,” she replied, freeing her hand then placing both on each side of his face.

  How would it feel to have Ceressa touch him without the beard, he wondered irrelevantly as he lost himself in her intense gaze. Lord, I must be strong.

  “I’m your wife, in all ways. I won’t leave you to fight this battle alone. Whatever comes, I want to face it with you. This is my choice. We’ve been joined by God’s word, and we are as one.

  “Send April and Mariette to England, if you wish, but April has no desire to be parted from you again, and I believe Mariette has formed an attachment to Mr. Harrell. I don’t speak for her, but I believe she would prefer to remain here, as well.”

  Latimer’s heart cried and his soul ached. How could he make the woman he loved—yes, loved—leave? How could he let her go when everything within him demanded that he keep her at his side? Yet the risk was so great, growing greater by the minute. But Ceressa knew her mind, she was extraordinarily wise beyond her years, and she could defend herself if need be. Had God known seven years ago Ceressa
Quarles would need the skills he’d taught her? Mayhap, He had. Mayhap, He’d intended all along for Ceressa to be at his side at this very moment, able and willing to help.

  “Listen to me,” he rasped as he pressed his hands to her face. “I’m not convinced I should change my mind, but if I do, you remain only if you agree to my terms.”

  “Your terms?” A spark of anger flared, and she bit her bottom lip.

  “Four things. You will never, never, never venture out on your own, whether riding or on foot, without a male escort. You will learn to adequately and accurately fire a pistol. If you take exception to a decision I make pertaining to your welfare or that of any resident of Tidelands, you will share your thoughts with me in private and not before others who don’t need to hear our squabbling.”

  She lowered her eyes, obviously wrestling with this request. Now came the hardest for him to utter, surely affecting him more than Ceressa. But he had to be fair and cautious. Even if that meant denying himself what he so desperately wanted. That one night that Ceressa had been his—no, no, no. I must do this. I mustn’t risk leaving her alone in these harsh times burdened with a babe. Though, Lord, I truly wish for a child. Please don’t let Ceressa’s love for me die.

  “Last of all, we will occupy separate chambers. Until matters in the colony are more settled. If something should happen to me, I don’t want you left alone to handle my affairs, including the bearing and rearing of a fatherless child. I’m sure you can see the wisdom in that.”

  Tears ran down Ceressa’s cheeks, her beautiful eyes bearing the ravages of a pain so intense it tore viciously at him.

  “Don’t cry, Nuttah. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Ceressa, please—” Without thinking, he drew her up into his lap, hugging her tightly to him. Her lips tempted mercilessly, and his entire body thrummed as he fought the physical ache her nearness caused. Even as his mind urged him to put her from him, he craved one last taste of her. His mouth covered her parted lips, and her fingers slid through his tangled hair, drawing him lower. Desire ripped at him, his body betraying him with an unfamiliar trembling, his strength drained as he battled this invisible foe.

  Dragging his mouth from hers, he turned his face aside, heaving with the weight of responsibility that bore down on him physically and emotionally. Before he fully realized what was happening, Ceressa slipped from his embrace and ran from the hall.

  ****

  Latimer roused the entire household while darkness still lingered, insisting that all be ready to depart the cottage at first light. If Mariette noticed Ceressa’s reddened eyes or the dark circles beneath them, she made no mention of it. Most likely, she was so excited to learn she didn’t have to say goodbye to Bengie she wasn’t as observant as usual. Ceressa heard the girl and April giggling and whispering as they packed up April’s few things. If only she could be as happy about their impending departure. Instead, dread filled her, wondering why she’d allowed herself to fall in love with a man like Latimer Kirkleigh. He’d used her and now he had no further need of her. Did he have a mistress awaiting him at Tidelands? Just because he’d avoided an entanglement with Phyllis Carruthers didn’t mean there wasn’t someone else. A servant, perhaps? She could think of no other reason he’d want separate bedchambers.

  Within the hour, the cottage’s shutters were closed and latched, the dwelling secured as best as could be, and the small group, now mounted, set off for the ferry. Ceressa overheard Bengie tell Mariette that they were making haste, for if Bacon arrived, the ferry would be the first thing he and his men would commandeer.

  Though dawn had just broken when they reached town, pandemonium reigned. It seemed that this was the morning everyone had decided to leave. A letter Ceressa had written to Sir Geoffrey yesternight, now safely hidden within her jacket, felt heavy as a brick. She had no idea how she would get it to the captain of the Dutiful Lady, the ship she, Mariette, and April would have been boarding right about then. Now that she’d broken her promise, she couldn’t get rid of the letter quickly enough. Perspiration beaded her forehead and panic threatened. There was no need for her to pray, because she somehow sensed the Lord wasn’t pleased by her actions. Yet, He surely understood she owed no allegiance to a man who had so carelessly taken what she had saved for him alone and then voiced his regret for having done so.

  Swallowing a sob, she glanced about, suddenly aware she’d fallen behind. Latimer was at the front carrying April. Next followed Bengie, Mariette, Daniel, and Kate. Slowing more, she feverishly wished for a resolution of her dilemma. It came in the form of a man leaning indolently against a tree, smoking a long pipe and looking as though he had not a care. Torrence Willshire, dressed as immaculately as ever in brocade and satin, didn’t seem to be overly concerned that his position with the governor would make him a prime target for Bacon.

  Steeling her resolve before she lost her nerve, Ceressa turned Nosegay in his direction. Even though she knew that each minute that passed was precious and that the ferry was already loading with those returning to Surry, she had to finish what she’d begun. This twenty-third day of June might prove to be an unforgettable one in more ways than she cared to imagine.

  Willshire noticed her. Removing his pipe, he straightened, his gaze insouciant and rascally. “Have you come to bid me goodbye, Lady Kirkleigh?” He gave her a wink. “Or have you come to ask me to take you away from that brutish boor that you married?”

  “Nay, Mr. Willshire.” An uncontrollable trembling assailed her. It was fortunate that she was astride; otherwise, she feared her legs wouldn’t support her. “But I do desire a quick word with you.”

  “Quick was not what I hoped for.” A roguish gleam sparked in his eyes.

  Ceressa would have laughed, but she had little reason to laugh at anything. Now that she had the opportunity to truly look at him, she realized he was a handsome man, save for the ridiculously curled peruke. He exuded a certain sophistication and power that could make for a heady mix if a woman wasn’t careful.

  Amazing that Phyllis hadn’t long ago succumbed to his charm. Perhaps she hadn’t because Latimer had rebuffed her advances, and like many silly humans, she wanted what she couldn’t have. Ceressa had learned that lesson the hard way.

  “So, you’re running away?” He motioned toward the ferry with a dramatic wave of his hand, the lace below his cuffs moving elegantly with his gesture.

  “Latimer and I are leaving for Tidelands.”

  “He’s a coward and he’s running away.”

  “You know he’s not.” Why she bothered to defend Latimer was beyond her, but then Ceressa had ceased to think and act rationally months earlier after her encounter with Charles Herrington. “You, of all people, should know he’s not afraid to fight after an acquaintance of so many years.”

  His brows lifted. “So, he shared the sordid tale of our days at Exeter. I did envy him; everything he undertook, be it use of mind or body, brought him success, and I didn’t much care for his attitude. He went about declaring he was going to be the finest minister in all of England. He thought he knew it all; thought he was better than his peers. Well, he wasn’t. He tumbled hard and fast.”

  “Because he was accused of something he didn’t do. You know that was wrong.” There was a flicker in Willshire’s eyes—remorse, perhaps? If so, it quickly vanished. “But I’m not here to discuss the animosity between the two of you. I have a favor to ask of you. I’m willing to pay you for your trouble.”

  “This intrigues me. I don’t see how I could be of assistance to you.”

  “I have a letter I need delivered.” At long last, Ceressa was able to withdraw the sealed missive from within her jacket. She felt Willshire’s eyes upon her, watching her movements. Handing it to the man, she saw him scan the writing on the envelope.

  “This is Latimer’s uncle, Sir Geoffrey Kirkleigh. Why would you be corresponding with him?”

  “Sir Geoffrey is my godfather. I believe that is reason enough to write.”

  “I know that Latim
er has hated the man for nearly as long as he’s hated me. As you’ve come to me for help, I suspect Latimer either doesn’t know you wrote the man or doesn’t approve of your doing so.”

  “You can speculate later,” she retorted tersely. “I don’t have much time. Here are the coins you’ll need.” Holding out her gloved hand, she waited for him to extend his. “Please take the letter to the captain of the Dutiful Lady.”

  “And what am I to get for running your errands?” Willshire asked, a hint of a leer darkening his eyes.

  “I have coin enough here for your inconvenience.”

  Willshire threw back his head and laughed, the wind tugging at his long black curls. “I’m thinking of something more personal. Like a kiss?”

  “You’ll get no such thing from me,” Ceressa said, anger heating her face and neck. “Just give me the letter back.”

  Willshire shook his head. “I’ll do as you ask. I was simply hoping to fire up that temper of yours. I succeeded.” He grasped her hand, and she immediately released the coins. But rather than free her hand he continued to hold it. Moving closer, he pressed a kiss to the back of it. When he raised his head, she met his intense gaze.

  “You’ll deliver the letter?” Her words were uttered breathlessly.

  “Aye, I’ll see that it’s sent on its way. Have no fear. I couldn’t let you believe me the monster that Latimer described in his recounting of the Exeter incident.” He released her and juggled the coins in his hand. Two thin, ragged boys darted past them, and Willshire reached out, grabbing one by the back of his filthy shirt. The child’s eyes widened in terror.

  “We didn’t mean no harm to ye, sir. We was hurryin’ to the wharf. Our poppa is waitin’ down by the ship.”