Fire Dragon's Angel

by Barbara Blythe

  If only he could banish the memory of Ceressa with Willshire. It didn’t matter why or how Ceressa had come to be in the man’s company. All that mattered was that she had met with his hated enemy.

  But the Lord repeated over and over in the Bible that one was to love one’s enemy. Yet, time and again he failed to do that. It was that way with his father; it had been the same with the Exeter don; it was that way with Willshire.

  Coming to his feet, Latimer paced, replaying and repeating different events in his mind. It seemed each time something momentous happened in his life, he completely ignored the Lord’s admonitions and stumbled blindly forward, usually ruining things. He always told himself he was doing this or that for a good reason. But the good reason faded into insignificance at the onslaught of the resulting disaster. And always in the thickest of the pain was his pride. His detestable Kirkleigh pride.

  Dropping down on a low stool, he attacked one booted foot, then another. He could recall the old life at Kirkleigh Hall when he’d had two lads to do such for him. Latimer preferred the simplicity of his life now. No constricting protocol; no disapproving glares. A wonderful privacy and solitude.

  But now there was a woman to invade this quiet time—a woman with definite opinions and no hesitation to voice them. How could Ceressa possibly find Willshire even remotely attractive? Latimer’s head commenced pounding.

  The still steaming water brought up a short time ago for his bath beckoned, so he shed his clothing and sought the comforting water. Lowering his weary body, he allowed his head to rest on the rim, soaking in the heat. He was never sure how long he remained immersed, but he must have fallen asleep, for the water was cold when he finally roused. After drying off, he paused to glance into the looking glass, running his hand over his bearded chin. His ragged hair needed the attention of Mrs. Arston’s shears. And, perhaps, it was time to shave off the beard. Willshire was clean shaven—

  “Blast it all,” he fumed as he turned away from his reflection.

  He strode purposefully to where he kept his shaving implements. He was certain everything would change if he rid himself of his beard.

  ****

  Sleep was elusive, and though Ceressa had hoped her nonstop tossing and turning would tire her, it never happened. Throwing off the light coverlet, she sat up, pondering her options. Sometimes reading put her to sleep when all else failed. Latimer’s library beckoned. There would be no Mrs. Arston guarding the door at this hour. She’d slip in, find a book, then hurry back upstairs. Simple.

  Hopping off the bed, she took up her dressing gown and secured it. Picking up a lighted candle, she let herself out quietly then tiptoed bare of foot down the hall. She paused by April’s door and pushed it open, reassured to find the child blissfully sleeping, her new doll nestled by her cheek. Continuing on, she slipped silently down the stairs and made her way toward the library.

  All thoughts faded as she scanned the oak-paneled walls and endless shelves of books. A globe, much like her father’s and Sir Geoffrey’s, topped a pedestal in a corner, and fringed drapes hung at the windows, one of which was open. The large, unlit fireplace assumed a place of prominence in the classically proportioned room, and it was easy to imagine a warming fire burning within it when the winter winds blew. What appeared to be architectural drawings covered the surface of a long table positioned by windows that would provide excellent light.

  “I thought Mrs. Arston told you not to come in here.” Whirling about with a gasp, the feeble light of her candle illuminated Latimer, seated in the shadows, his arms resting on those of a worn leather chair, his long legs spread before him, his breeches clinging to his muscled thighs.

  Suddenly, Ceressa had no need for a book. Instead, she wanted to turn around and run back to the safety of her room. As he rose to his feet, it took every ounce of courage not to flee. “I only wanted to borrow a book.”

  “So, you couldn’t sleep either.”

  Why did he have to be right? He halted before her, and she kept her eyes at his chest level, afraid to meet his gaze. But that was a mistake for his white linen shirt hung open and exposed a generous amount of his solid, furred torso. Waves of shock and heat spread through her, memory of the night spent in his arms demanding acknowledgement when she knew to do so would only bring her anguish.

  “I should leave.” She started to turn away, but he took hold of her arm. Her gaze rested on his strong but gentle fingers then strayed upward. Another gasp escaped as she gazed upon his face. Her eyes saw, but her mind resisted. A clean shaven Latimer looked down at her, his lips quirked in a half smile. Here was the face that had lived in her dreams. But the man behind that face was nothing like the Latimer she’d fallen in love with years ago.

  “I hope I haven’t frightened you.”

  “I’m surprised. That’s all. You look—”

  “Different?”

  “No. The way you looked that summer I spent with Sir Geoffrey.”

  He arched his brows. “And that would be?”

  “I’m not sure. I’m sorry to have disturbed you.” She tried again to free her arm, but he held fast. Her heart raced, his nearness overpowering. Why had she really come here?

  To make it clear she’d not be denied entrance to any room in what was now her home. However, she’d gotten more than she’d bargained for. Latimer cupped her face, drawing her toward him, but she would have no more of this hot and cold behavior. If he didn’t want her as his wife in all ways, he’d have no kisses, either. Ceressa turned her face aside. His grip tightened.

  “I’m not trying to force myself on you.” Latimer’s voice was rough with anger. Let him be angry—have a taste of what she was feeling. “Perhaps you yearn for another man’s kiss.”

  Fury surged within her. “Why do you find it necessary to remind me you saw me speaking”—she emphasized the word—“to Torrence Willshire? Don’t you have anything else to think about?”

  He had the audacity to smile. “That memory has a pesky way of resurfacing.”

  “It’s time you put your experience at Exeter behind you. It’s kept you angry with Sir Geoffrey for years, and now you’re allowing Torrence Willshire to continue the destructive cycle. I won’t be dragged into your personal conflicts because you’re nursing a grudge. Now if you don’t mind, I wish to return to my bed.” Something flared in his eyes, but it quickly extinguished. He released her and stepped back.

  “Select your book first. That is why you came down.” Latimer’s tone suggested there was some debate about her reason for the intrusion, but she’d not be drawn into his game.

  She shook her head. “I’ve no need of that now. In fact—” A fierce pounding upon the front door stopped her. Latimer picked up a pistol that lay upon a low table.

  “Stay here,” he ordered as he left the room.

  Taking great care to move soundlessly, she followed him down the hall. Latimer’s long strides took him quickly to the door. When he opened it, his overseer, Mo, stood there, clearly distraught as he clutched his limp hat in one hand and a lantern in the other.

  “I’m sorry to be comin’ to you so late, but it’s Malcolm and Avery. I think this time they may kill each other.”

  “What’s happened?”

  Ceressa tucked herself close to the stairway so the men wouldn’t notice her in the shadows.

  “It be the children, Master Latimer, Jarrett and Suzanne. Avery just learned that Miss Suzanne and Jarrett have been meetin’ in secret. You know how Jarrett’s been sweet on her since she started lookin’ all womanly. He wants to marry her, but those two mule-headed men are carryin’ on somethin’ terrible and Malcolm’s got a knife.”

  Ceressa nearly strangled on a gasp.

  “I’ll talk to them.”

  Mo turned away and hurried down the steps, Latimer following. He brought the door closed behind him, but Ceressa immediately went to it, and taking care to open it noiselessly, she glanced outside.

  Latimer and Mo were headed toward the kitchen, bo
th men conversing in low tones and unaware of anything else. Confident she’d remain undetected, she slipped out and gently shut the door. Gathering up the trailing hem of her dressing gown, she set off in the same direction Latimer and Mo had gone. She caught sight of them as they passed the smokehouse, but Latimer suddenly stopped. Whirling about, he strode toward her.

  Ceressa froze.

  Did the man have eyes in the back of his head?

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “I have every right to accompany you. You might need a woman’s cooler head.”

  “You’ve resolved similar situations?”

  “No, but I might be able to make the two men see that their children deserve happiness.”

  “You move so much as a foot, I will personally carry you back to the house and lock you in your chamber. As I suspect you were eavesdropping, you must have heard Mo say that one man has a knife?”

  “I’m not afraid.”

  Latimer clenched his jaw, the muscles flexing and twitching. “You will not interfere in matters concerning Tidelands.”

  She supposed he’d have the entire household roused if she didn’t comply given the loudness of his voice. But she wouldn’t. Turning his back upon her, he strode toward an open-mouthed Mo. As soon as they’d resumed walking, Ceressa continued her pursuit.

  Fire Dragon's Angel

  33

  Latimer couldn’t decide what made him angrier—Ceressa’s obvious aversion to him or the news that two of his best and most trusted workers were about to kill each other. As he and Mo neared the laborers’ cottages, he contemplated shaking sense into one and sentencing the other two to a week of bread and water and lengthening both indentures. Long before he and Mo reached the neat row of wattle and daub dwellings, he heard yells and ranting. When a woman’s scream rose above the other noises, he and Mo broke into a run.

  As they burst upon the gathering, the light of several lanterns revealed the bloodied noses and bruised countenances of Avery Willett and Malcolm MacLarren. MacLarren was still in possession of his knife as Willett circled him. Latimer faced both men who suddenly ceased their fight, staring at him as though he was an apparition. Why did Willett, a cooper of unsurpassed skill, and MacLarren, a tanner whose services were much in demand, harbor such animosity for one another? Though they’d worked for him for nearly five years, he’d never uncovered the source of their anger. Perhaps, given the events of tonight, he should have tried harder.

  “I’d like to remind you that you’re both dangerously close to losing your positions.”

  “That man’s son”—Willett pointed at MacLarren—“couldn’t stay away from me girl after I told him to. I could kill the boy and be justified.”

  “Ye will nae be touchin’ the lad, Avery Willett,” MacLarren yelled. “He has nae done nothin’ yer girl didna ask for.”

  “Ye lyin’, no good Scottish reiver,” Willet roared back. “It was ye and yer kind that raided and killed me people; always wantin what ye can’t have. I say we finish this now like men.”

  “Papa, stop. Please.” Suzanne Willet broke through the tight circle that had formed about Latimer and the two men. Sobbing, she caught her father’s arm. “Papa, Mr. MacLarren, don’t fight anymore.”

  “I do nae care what either of ye do ta one another.” A young man’s voice rose stridently. Jarrett pushed his way to the fore, his gaze fixed upon the Willet girl. “I will marry Suzanne.”

  “And I will marry Jarrett. Because I love him.”

  The innocence of truth and hope and trust magically magnified the young girl’s voice, the word love echoing around them. In that moment, Latimer recalled Ceressa at about the same age as Suzanne. Her head filled with dreams and possessed of a contagious joy. He could no more stand aside and watch Suzanne’s spirit be crushed than he could have allowed Ceressa’s to meet such a fate. But wasn’t he doing that to Ceressa now? Hadn’t his pride and irrational animosity subjected her to something frighteningly similar to what he now saw unfolding before him? Dear God, what has happened to me? How is it I’ve forgotten all You’ve taught me?

  Shuddering inwardly, he started to say something until a wraithlike apparition floated into his line of vision. Ceressa.

  “Mr. Willett, Mr. MacLarren, what’s the meaning of this?”

  The men and those gathered around stared at Ceressa as she came to stand by Latimer’s side. “My first night here at Tidelands, and my rest is disturbed by a disagreement. What am I to think?”

  Latimer failed to summon the ire her appearance should have invoked. Instead, he was amazed at what she’d done with her angelic voice and softly spoken words, eradicating the blood lust between the two men.

  “Lady Kirkleigh, my apologies, but this ain’t yer concern,” Willett said. “This is a private matter, personal-like.”

  “It becomes mine and my husband’s concern when you’re about to seriously injure another man. Mr. MacLarren, put down that knife. What kind of guidance are you giving your children? Suzanne and Jarrett care for each other by their own admission. Nothing you do will change that. Why on earth would you want to? Jarrett has willingly defied both of you in declaring his love for Suzanne. Suzanne appears most eager to wed Jarrett.”

  “My wife is right,” Latimer said. “You won’t resolve anything by fighting. It would behoove you to repair your differences. I will permit their union.”

  Jarrett and Suzanne flung their arms about one another, Jarrett buying his face in Suzanne’s shiny brown tresses.

  Ceressa looked up at Latimer, her eyes conveying her gratitude for his support. She’d not be thanking him later after he’d had a word with her.

  Willett and MacLarren remained silent, each turning away and walking off in opposite directions. Fully expecting Jarrett and Suzanne to come to him with thanks, Latimer was amused and surprised when both rushed over to Ceressa, a stranger to them until ten minutes ago, offering her their effusive thanks. They thanked him next, their words more formal and less spontaneous, then clasping hands they hurried off murmuring words of devotion as they laughed and cried.

  Mo said his goodnights, and then Latimer and Ceressa were alone. Suddenly, he hadn’t the heart to be angry with her.

  “I asked you to stay in the house.”

  “I know. But I thought I could help.”

  “And you did.” She gave him a small smile. “I’ve always known the two men disliked each other, but I didn’t realize it was based upon ancient prejudice. The English and the Scottish have hated one another for centuries. I never imagined it would surface here.”

  “Prejudice is a hard thing to shake. Look at how the English view the natives and how the natives view the English. Why should we think old hostilities have been left on the other side of the Atlantic? I only hope those two won’t continue the feud. Can’t you do something?”

  “Without interfering any more than I already have? Or rather, you have? Probably not, but I will see them married just as I vowed. But that doesn’t guarantee them a life without trials and tribulations. Actually, I’m not sure that would be good for them.”

  “Perhaps you’re right.”

  “I’ll walk you back to the house.” He offered his hand, and she hesitated. Just as he was about to withdraw it, she slipped her fingers between his. He gazed down upon her, her lips parted and tempting. Shaking aside the notion to kiss them, he raised her hand instead and pressed his lips to the back. He felt her shudder, but she quickly lowered her gaze. Did she shudder from pleasure or revulsion? Refusing to ponder the troubling thought, he set off toward the house, Ceressa beside him.

  Hours later, back in his lonely room, Latimer paced as heavy rain pummeled the house. When it finally subsided, he dropped wide-eyed and restless into the chair before his escritoire. While the first rose-gray streaks of dawn filtered through the departing clouds, he pulled out several sheets of vellum and picked up his quill. He stared at the top blank sheet, knowing what he had to do and should have done months ago. L
atimer felt strongly that this was the Lord’s will, and he’d been fighting it far too long. Ceressa was right. It was time for him to break free of the binding pride that fettered his heart and kept him a prisoner, separating him from those he loved and from those who loved him. He began to write.

  “Father.” How difficult it was to pen that word, and he had to swallow past a knot in his throat. “It is important for you to know that Ceressa Quarles is with me, in the Virginia colony, through a strange twist of fate that I shall attempt to explain. First and foremost, I assure you we are legally wed…”

  Fire Dragon's Angel

  34

  By late morning, Ceressa was surrounded by ten children of various ages and colors, four mothers, Mariette, and Libby, all eager to begin learning. The impromptu gathering was a get acquainted session as Ceressa explained what she hoped to accomplish. As she talked, she noticed that Suzanne Willett joined the group, her eyes alight with excitement. Each child told Ceressa their name and who their parents were and their age. She didn’t single out Suzanne, for she didn’t want to embarrass the girl. But after giving all present a tentative schedule with classes to start on the morrow in a vacant worker’s cottage offered by Latimer, Ceressa made her way over to the young girl.

  “Are you going to join us?”

  Suzanne nodded her head. “Jarrett can read and do sums, but I can’t. I’d like to surprise him. Do you mind?”

  “Of course not. This is wonderful.”