With This Kiss: A First-In Series Romance Collection

by Kerrigan Byrne

  She was so stunned that she could only lie there on her stomach, the taste of dirt in her mouth, while poor Pete, whinnying shrilly, galloped away. The world around her had suddenly been plunged into darkness.

  Dear God, what was happening? She’d ridden toward the light, catching up with the solitary man swinging the lantern, only to have him turn upon her, and then…and then—

  Corisande screamed as she was suddenly hauled to her feet by someone with such immense physical strength that she felt nearly weightless. She began to fight, flailing her limbs, but she might have been a child’s doll for how easily her attacker spun her around. The next thing she knew, an arm went round her neck to half strangle her while a harsh voice whispered in her ear, “You will hear me, woman. You will hear me…”

  Corisande scarcely could hear, the sharp ringing had grown so deafening in her ears as she fought to breathe, the man’s arm pressing like a cruel vise against her throat. She began to claw at him, wildly, desperately, when suddenly she was shoved to the ground. Receding footfalls plunged through the thick gorse as hooves came thundering toward her.

  Dragging in huge gulps of air that stung her lungs, an instant later she felt someone drop to his knees beside her, turn her over gently, and lift her into a pair of strong arms.

  “Corie…dear God, are you all right? I saw a man running away, but he disappeared into the dark. Did you see his face? Did you recognize him?”

  She flickered open her eyes, astonished as much to find Donovan holding her close as that she could see him, the lantern uprighted and spilling light upon them from only a few feet away. So it hadn’t gone out. Her attacker must have dropped the lantern in the grass just before he dragged her to her feet. Her attacker…

  “You! You arranged this, didn’t you?” Corisande croaked, irrational fury filling her as she tried to twist free of Donovan’s arms. “You’ve hired someone to frighten me…to kill me!”

  Donovan could only stare, wondering incredulously as she squirmed and wriggled if she might have hit her head again for the utter nonsense she’d just spewed.

  “So you don’t deny it! You think it’s going to be too much trouble to annul me so you’re going to see me done away with instead! Let me go! Get away from—”

  “Of course I didn’t hire someone— Good God, woman, will you never cease to think the worst of me?”

  That seemed to quiet her, but she was still looking at him with such mistrust that Donovan sighed heavily and released her. Corisande scrambled to her feet and spun to face him.

  “Those barrels,” she accused, swiping hair out of her eyes. “I—I never thought of it until now, but you had someone push them over so they might hit me, didn’t you? On our wedding day!”

  Deeply stung that she was persisting in her preposterous tirade, Donovan rose to stand in front of her. “Do you truly think me so diabolical, Corie? I had nothing to do with those bloody barrels, but I suspected that Jack Pascoe might so I went to see him last week. He denied any involvement, but I’m certain, especially now, that it was no accident.”

  She didn’t say anything for a moment, her dark eyes having grown wide as saucers. It was very clear she’d been frightened terribly by the attack; he almost couldn’t blame her for lashing out at him. But it still hurt…

  “You saw Jack Pascoe?”

  He nodded, and Corisande looked at him uncertainly now. “Saw him, threatened him, and told him to stay damned well away from you and your family. But it looks as if he’s due another visit—the bastard. I’m going to break—”

  “It wasn’t Jack.”

  “Who? The man tonight?”

  Corisande bobbed her head, trembling so visibly that Donovan was tempted to pull her into his arms. He nonetheless held his ground; she was talking to him now at least, more rationally, and calmly as could be expected. He didn’t want to upset her again so he prodded gently. “Who was it, then, Corie? Did you see his face?”

  “No, no, he wore a hood. But he was much bigger than Jack, taller. Then the lantern fell, and I couldn’t see anything when he grabbed me around the neck—”

  “He grabbed you around the neck?”

  “Y-yes, and tried to choke me. He was strong, so strong.”

  When she winced, her hand moving to her throat, Donovan felt such rage that he could have killed at the moment, if he’d only found the man. He looked around them but he knew he’d never find the culprit in this inky blackness. Yet if he did…

  “I—I was followed too. Last week when I rode home through the storm—”

  “You were followed?” Donovan shouted, and Corisande took a nervous step backward. He couldn’t believe she hadn’t said anything to him until now. “Good God, Corie, why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Y-you looked so angry with me—for taking the horse, being late for supper, being your wife, I don’t know! I didn’t think you’d want to hear…”

  Donovan cursed to himself as Corisande lapsed into indignant silence, knowing he shouldn’t be surprised she hadn’t confided in him.

  It was bloody true. He’d hardly made things easy for her this past week, which was why he had finally abandoned his resolve to have little to do with her and gone to her room, his infernal attraction for the woman be damned!

  He’d wanted to apologize for his surly behavior, for trying to kiss her and upsetting her—hell, not that he’d meant to upset her. Now that she’d tricked him, he didn’t exactly feel like apologizing although he was glad, he couldn’t deny it, that that night she hadn’t been looking behind her for a lover. Yet where then, tonight…?

  Later, man, later, Donovan told himself as Corisande sighed brokenly, rubbing her temples. Again resisting the overwhelming urge to take her in his arms, he asked quietly, “Do you feel well enough to ride? If you’d like, we can walk a short way first—”

  “No, no, I’m fine.” Actually Corisande felt as if she were coming out of some overwrought haze.

  Oh, Lord, had she really accused Donovan of hiring someone to kill her? She felt chagrined suddenly, but tried to justify herself too. He’d been so hostile since the wedding, and then there was that night with the knife when he’d said something about murdering her, which had probably given her the idea in the first place. How was she to know? Someone who’d clearly meant her harm had been swinging that lantern, luring her like a ship onto the rocks when she had thought it was Oliver’s signal—oh, God. Oliver.

  “I have to go,” she said shakily, realizing now that she had no idea if the Fair Betty had arrived safely or not.

  “Go?”

  Corisande heard Donovan’s astonishment, but ignored him as she peered into the dark, looking for Pete. “Yes, I have to go—”

  “I hope you mean back to the house.”

  Now what was she going to say? she thought crazily, wondering how she could possibly convince him to let her continue on her way, and alone.

  “No, no, not the house. One, uh, one of the tinners’ wives is expecting her third babe tonight. Peggy Robberts—she lives not more than a quarter mile away,” Corisande explained hastily, concocting a fanciful story that would have done Lindsay’s wild imagination proud as she named a woman whom she knew to be only a week or so away from giving birth. “She asked me to help and sent her husband, Morton, to throw stones at my window—”

  “Stones at your window.”

  Trying not to be daunted by the skepticism in Donovan’s voice, Corisande rushed on. “Yes, to let me know when it was time, we’d arranged it just that way. But he went on ahead so poor Peggy wouldn’t be alone and—and I was just about to leave when you knocked on the door. I didn’t know what you’d say so—oh, Lord, I can’t fail her, Donovan! Peggy needs me.”

  “So we’ll ride there together. You’ve no horse after all.”

  “Yes I do! Look!” Corisande couldn’t believe her good fortune as Pete suddenly wandered into the wide arc of light cast by the lantern, the gelding looking none the worse for the night’s events. “There’s Pet
e now, Donovan, so everything’s fine. You don’t have to trouble yourself—”

  “Are you mad, woman?” Donovan yelled so loud that she jumped. He stood glaring at her. “You were just attacked by some bloody stranger wearing a hood, no idea who the wretch might be—nearly throttled, mind you—and I’m to let you travel on by yourself as if nothing happened?”

  She gulped, venturing the smallest nod, which was greeted by a scowl so deep that her heart sank.

  “I haven’t gone through this much trouble, Lady Donovan, to lose you now. Oh, no, one temporary bride is quite enough, thank you. I’ll not be taking another, and that I bloody well swear.”

  His vehement words had stabbed her more painfully than she could have imagined. Corisande lifted her chin, knowing full well what he was going to say next. So well, in fact, that she beat him by saying, “You’re coming with me, then.”

  “Exactly. I’m going to follow you like a shadow, no, closer than a shadow, until this whole inheritance business is done. Crashing pilchard barrels, someone following you home, someone attacking you out here on the heath and nearly strangling the life from you—oh, yes. I’m not going to let you out of my sight.”

  But what would he do after he’d gotten his inheritance? Corisande was tempted to ask him. What would happen to her then when he wasn’t around to accompany her?

  She somehow held her tongue, knowing he probably wouldn’t think twice about her welfare once he was on his way back to Spain, which hurt even more. So much so that she refused to think about it further, wondering instead how she was going to get rid of him.

  She knew he’d meant his words. She had heard that imposing tone before, but she wasn’t giving up, not yet. Resigned at least for the moment, she nodded, saying softly, “Actually I’d be grateful for your company. But you don’t have to stay the whole night. It might not be pleasant—to hear the childbirth, I mean, the screams, the pain. Peggy has never had a very easy time of it—”

  “That I’ll decide.”

  As he went to fetch her horse, Corisande realized she’d more than meant she was glad she wouldn’t be alone, the darkness all around them suddenly become a threat. Yet what was she going to do? If Oliver was back from France, he was the one who needed her help tonight, not Peggy Robberts. Silently she accepted Donovan’s assistance as he gave her a leg up onto Pete’s back, the horse pawing at the ground.

  “Here, Corie, take the lantern.”

  Corisande reached out to oblige him, but the gelding pranced sideways, whinnying shrilly.

  “I think you’d better hold it,” she said as she drew hard on the reins and sought to soothe the horse. “Poor Pete was nearly struck three times by that lantern, at least until I fell off…” She didn’t go on as Donovan’s handsome face was once more transformed by a deep scowl. Instead she changed the subject altogether as he hung the lantern on his saddle and mounted, asking lightly, “What had you wanted to speak to me about tonight, Donovan? I’m sorry that I had to deceive—”

  “You didn’t have to deceive me, woman.” His voice was harsh, although he seemed to make an effort to relax his tone as he brought Samson alongside her and Pete. “You could have told me the truth, Corie, and spared yourself, spared me—” He abruptly went silent only to meet her eyes, his expression grown serious. “I came to ask you for a truce. It’s been a difficult week—”

  “Only because you made it so difficult,” she interrupted, eager for Oliver’s sake to be on their way, yet wanting to hear what Donovan had to say, his sudden candor astonishing her. “You haven’t been the most agreeable company, churlish, ill-mannered, I could go on and on.”

  “I know, and it’s been wrong of me. I owe you a very great debt after all. I’m sorry if I’ve made you miserable.”

  “You haven’t made me miserable,” she lied, realizing that that was exactly how she’d felt and for reasons she had no wish to contemplate. “Just made me look a complete fool in front of the servants, is all, chattering to myself at supper each night like a dotty parrot while you’ve merely sat there—”

  “Yes, you have been talking quite a bit lately.”

  Astonished even more to see a hint of a smile on his lips, Corisande flushed with warmth. “I don’t see anything amusing here. And as for you owing me a debt, I imagine that’s exactly what got you into so much trouble in the first place and why you’re apologizing to me, too, implying you intend to act more the civil gentleman. My goodness, the lengths to which you’re having to go to save your bloody neck!”

  “What are you talking about? What trouble?”

  “Gambling debts, of course! That’s all you’ve talked about since I’ve known you—how much you need the money. Well, unless it’s a very grand lifestyle you crave back in Spain, my lord husband, I’d say you’ve probably wagered yourself into quite a deep hole with your fellow officers—”

  “Good God, is that what you think has brought me to Cornwall? Gambling debts?”

  Corisande gaped at him. His voice had almost gone hoarse with incredulity. Before she had a chance to reply, he looked away from her, shaking his head and muttering to himself.

  “Of course that’s bloody well what you think. Why would it be otherwise? You don’t know a thing about me.”

  “What was that, Donovan?”

  “I said you don’t know a damned thing about me!”

  “N-no. No, I don’t,” she stammered, struck by the wildness in his eyes as he’d turned back to face her. “Not much anyway. But it’s not as if it really matters—given the circumstances, I mean. You said it yourself, Donovan, well, that soon this will all be over, and then we’ll be free of each other’s company forever. Remember?”

  He was silent for so long that she began to think he had no intention of replying, but finally he murmured half under his breath and with a wryness that surprised her, “So now I’m a Don Juan with gambling debts. Amazing. Bloody amazing.”

  She didn’t know quite what to make of it, either, when he began to chuckle, and she shifted uncomfortably on her horse.

  “Donovan, I think we should go. Peggy—”

  “By all means, wife, lead the way! The poor woman needs your help! Lead on, lead on!”

  Corisande did lead the way, setting off at a gallop almost gratefully as Donovan’s chuckling became rich, full-throated laughter that incredibly enough made her feel like chuckling too. But she didn’t know why she should be laughing.

  He was a Don Juan with gambling debts, or at least he hadn’t denied that’s why he needed the money.

  So why was he laughing?

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Donovan was still chuckling when they arrived at the tiny cottage a few moments later, the ride requiring even less time than Corisande had expected. She wasn’t smiling, her heart battering at her breast as she quickly dismounted and ran to the front of the cottage, turning back with a small gasp to call to Donovan, “Give me one moment, will you? I don’t want to startle poor Peggy with both of us beating down her door.”

  She spun as he gallantly bowed his head to her, thanking the heavens for whatever strange mood had come over him to make him so biddable. She knocked twice but didn’t wait for a reply as she heard someone shuffling to the door, instead rushing inside the darkened two-room cottage so suddenly that she nearly knocked over poor Morton Robberts. His mouth hanging open, the russet-haired, freckle-faced tinner stared blearily at her as if he’d just stumbled into some bizarre dream.

  “Don’t look so startled, Morton, it’s only me, Corie East—Corie Trent. And don’t ask me any questions, I’ve no time! I need an enormous favor from you, from both you and Peggy—”

  “Who is it, Morton?” called a sleepy voice from the pitch-dark adjoining room. At once Corisande grabbed a candle stub from the rough-hewn table and lit it upon the open hearth, then cupped the flame and hurried into the back where a very pregnant young woman no older than herself was already struggling to sit up in bed.

  “It’s Corie, Peggy, but I can’
t tell you much more right now than that I need a favor from you and quickly!”

  “Corie?”

  “Yes, yes—here, let me plump the pillow for you.” Corisande fixed the candle to the windowsill, her voice softly pleading as she did her best to make the woman comfortable. “Don’t excite yourself, Peggy, there’s nothing wrong. Only my husband’s waiting outside—”

  “Lord Donovan’s outside?”

  “Yes, because I told him you were having your babe tonight, and that I had to come and help.”

  “But I’m not—”

  “I know, Peggy, I know, but I can’t explain everything now. I need you to moan, good and loud, too, just how you might if the babe were coming. Could you do that for me? I’ll tell you more when I can”—she spun to face Morton, who was looking at her now as if she were half-mad—“and, Morton, you must say yes to anything Lord Donovan asks of you, could you please do that for me? Oh, dear, I know this is terribly strange, but if I told you Oliver Trelawny’s behind my coming here, would it help?”

  At once Corisande saw understanding flood the young man’s eyes. It was common yet closely guarded knowledge among the tinners that the burly sea captain was a friend and benefactor to them all. Greatly encouraged, she rushed on.

  “Suppose my husband asks if you came and threw stones at my window tonight to let me know that the babe was on its way—”

  “I’ll say, ais, milord, so I did, a good handful too.”

  “And suppose he asks if the babe’s coming tonight?”

  “I’ll say, ais, milord, far’s I can tell ‘tes true, but my dear Peggy’s the fairer judge than me.”

  “Thank you, Morton. That’s perfect. Perfect!”

  Relief and gratitude spilling through her, Corisande took a moment to squeeze Peggy’s hand, and then she raced for the door.