Stormswept

by Sabrina Jeffries

  She cast a glance at Mr. Vaughan, whose face was stony and remote as he stared at her without a whit of concern. Any guilt she’d felt for misleading him last night rapidly dissipated.

  “Were you?” Papa repeated, shaking her.

  Lifting her chin in defiance of them both, she said, “Aye.”

  Her father shoved her away. “Go wait for me in the study. I’ll be there presently to administer your punishment.”

  A tremor of fear skittered along her spine. “Please, Papa, let me explain—”

  “Go to my study! ” He shook his thick finger in that direction. “Now, or I’ll cane you thrice as hard! ”

  With a shudder, she backed away. She’d seen Papa angry before, but not like this. Still, she mustn’t let him reduce her to a quivering puddle, or it would go worse for her. With all the dignity she could muster, she stalked off to the study.

  Rhys watched her go, uneasiness settling in his gut. What in the devil was this? An elaborate show for his benefit? Surely the earl wouldn’t cane his daughter for this, would he? She’d done only what he’d put her up to.

  But she’d been caught. Perhaps her punishment was for that. A surge of unwarranted pity made Rhys tighten his fists. “You shouldn’t punish Juliana for merely carrying out your orders.”

  The earl remained silent until the study door opened and closed. Then he fixed Rhys with a cold gaze. “I assure you, sir, I wouldn’t send my daughter within ten miles of you and your scoundrel friends. If I needed spies, I’d use one of my sons or a servant. I’d not send an innocent girl into a nest of vipers, even to crush the likes of you! ”

  The logic behind the man’s words struck Rhys hard. If the earl spoke the truth—and somewhere in the fog of Rhys’s anger it seemed plausible—then Juliana was about to receive a caning.

  And it was all his fault.

  At that thought, he snapped, “If she didn’t go at your request, then why in God’s name was she there?”

  Northcliffe’s eyes narrowed. “I have no idea. The girl has strange notions about the Welsh, to be sure, but I’d never thought to see her sneaking about at night.”

  A chill shook Rhys. Morgan had said she liked to dabble in Welsh things, and he hadn’t seemed concerned about her presence at the meeting. Had Rhys jumped to conclusions?

  “Your ‘wheels of justice’ don’t worry me,” Northcliffe went on. “I acquired Llynwydd fairly, and I’ll hold what is mine, no matter what some upstart Welshman thinks to do about it! ”

  “You didn’t ‘acquire’ that estate. You stole it. And I intend to prove it.”

  They glared at each other a long moment, hatred boiling up between them.

  “We shall see, my boy.” Northcliffe summoned his footmen, then motioned to Rhys. “Escort Mr. Vaughan to the gate. I never want to see his scurrilous face in this house again.”

  Rhys smiled grimly. “I can see myself out. And don’t worry, Northcliffe. I shan’t set foot here again until you resign your claim to Llynwydd. Which you will do one day, if I have anything to say about it.”

  Ignoring the earl’s derisive snort, he left, with the footmen trailing after him. But as soon as Rhys passed through the wrought-iron gates and heard them clank shut behind him, he paused to stare back through the bars, his anger replaced by a more unsettling emotion. Guilt.

  Juliana was in there awaiting a caning. If she truly had attended the meeting for her own reasons, then she was suffering due to him.

  Belatedly, he remembered her flawless command of Welsh and her quoting of Welsh poetry. Today she’d worn an expensive blue satin gown, but the undersides of her cuffs had been as dingy as his from having well-inked paper rub against them. She was clearly a scholar. And scholars were rarely spies.

  “Damn it all! ” He moved along the stone wall, searching for a way to get back in.

  It wasn’t as if he could do anything. He couldn’t leap into the earl’s study and whisk Juliana away. But he also couldn’t let her be caned.

  Perhaps he could create a distraction to get her father away from her. Or find her afterward and soothe her hurts. Beg her forgiveness.

  When he came to an oak branch that extended several feet over the wall, he decided he could probably reach it. Then he could climb up the wall and jump over—

  A rustling on the other side gave him pause. The sound seemed to move up the oak. Puzzled, he stared up into the tree. When he caught a glimpse of blue satin, relief surged through him. He should have known Lady Juliana wouldn’t stay to be beaten. Running away seemed to be her specialty, thank God.

  More satin spilled over the top of the wall as she crept backward along the branch. He saw a flash of shapely calf before her silk hose caught on the bark. She grabbed at it, but her hair, a rich coppery red that had been hidden from his sight last night, masked her face and blinded her.

  He moved under the branch just as she lost her balance and fell right into his arms. Clearly startled, she shoved her hair from her face, but when she saw who’d caught her, she scrambled out of his arms.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

  “Catching you.”

  “Why? So you could make sure I got my caning? Are you planning to march me back in to Papa?”

  He winced. If he hadn’t already been convinced she was innocent, her wounded tone and attempt at escape would have done it. “Nay. I thought I’d rescue you, instead.”

  She brushed leaves and twigs from her gown. “I am doing fine rescuing myself, thank you very much.”

  “What are you planning to do—hide?”

  “Not that it’s any of your concern, but yes. Until Mama can talk Papa out of my punishment. Or at least get it reduced.”

  “That works?”

  “Sometimes.” Her stiff look sent guilt spiraling through him. “I had to do something.”

  “Thanks to me and my blundering.” He tugged an acorn from her hair.

  But when he couldn’t resist letting his fingers linger over the silken strands, she swatted his hand away. “How dare you! First, you get me in trouble, and then you act as if it never happened! ”

  Her words lacerated his already beaten conscience. “What I did this morning was unconscionable, and I am sorry. I can say nothing in my defense.”

  “Quite true.”

  The throaty timbre of her voice made him ache to touch her again, but he knew better than to try. “You must understand—your father and his candidate for Member of Parliament are persecutors of radicals. When I found out you were his daughter—”

  “You decided I was his spy. I understand quite well, you . . . you diawl! ”

  Her use of the Welsh word for “devil” took him off guard. As she flounced off toward the woods, he hastened after her.

  “You ignored my obvious sympathy for your cause and for you,” she said, “and instead imagined horrid things of me. I know Papa committed a great wrong against your family. But I had naught to do with it! ” She stomped through the grass, heedless of how it ruined her skirts. “But because I am a St. Albans, you decided I was in it up to my neck.” She halted to fix him with a piercing stare. “Correct?”

  “Something like that,” he muttered, irritated that she had so succinctly described his mad thoughts over the last night.

  “So you came to Papa with your suspicions, instead of to me.” Her voice caught. “Even though last night you praised my eyes and quoted Huw Morus to me. You told me . . . Oh, it doesn’t matter what you told me. All of it was lies anyway.”

  “Not so! ”

  “Aye.” She eyed him as if he were a snail. “Lettice explained it to me. A man will say anything to pull down a woman’s defenses, so he can get at her person.” Her sweet mouth trembled, and he felt like a bastard all over again. “You said all those lovely things to get me to kiss you, yet it meant nothing.”

  “That’s not true. I meant every word.”

  When he reached for her, she backed away. “If you lay a hand on me, I’ll cal
l the footmen.”

  “And let them carry you back to your father?” As she blanched, he caught her hand. “Please, Juliana, you must believe me. This morning was a temporary madness. Last night when I met you, I realized I’d met my ideal woman. Then I discovered you were out of my reach. It infuriated me to have you snatched from my hands before I’d had a chance to know you. That’s why I struck out today.”

  “Against me.”

  “Nay, against everything that took you from me. Unfortunately, that included you.”

  She cocked her head. “You’re speaking in riddles and trying to confuse me.” She tried to snatch her hand from his.

  He wouldn’t let go. “I know this sounds insane, but from the moment I saw you smile at me, I wanted to know everything about you.”

  She pressed her lips together. “Your pretty words won’t work this time. I know your game now.”

  Damn it all, why did he want so badly to convince her he wasn’t an ogre? He ought to be running as fast and far away as he could. Lettice was right—she wasn’t for him.

  Yet something in him rebelled at the idea. He clasped her hand against his heart. “What can I do to change your mind, anwylyd?”

  “Don’t call me that. I’m not your ‘darling.’ ”

  But he could see her wavering. “Tell me how to make up for my poor behavior. I can’t take your caning for you, but I could tell your father I was mistaken, that I saw some other woman at the meeting.”

  She snorted. “Too late for that.”

  Clasping her about the waist, he drew her close. “Doesn’t it mean something to you that I came back to rescue you? Don’t my apologies mean anything? That’s why I was under that tree: I was going to pull myself up on that branch and go after you.”

  He bent close, and she sucked in her breath. He wanted to taste her again, to crush her mouth under his, to revel in its warmth. Her lavender scent filled his nostrils, driving him more insane. He pressed a kiss into her hair.

  “Please, you mustn’t—” she whispered.

  “Touch you? Kiss you? I truly can’t help myself when I’m with you.”

  Glancing back at the estate walls, she stiffened. “Oh no—Papa has sent my brothers looking for me.”

  Two burly young men were indeed coming round the corner of the wall. He recognized Viscount Blackwood, the earl’s heir. Swiftly Rhys pulled her into the forest, praying that the men hadn’t seen them.

  But when he tried to drag her deeper, she halted. “Please, I must go back. They won’t rest until they find me, and if they find you with me, ’twill be very bad for me.”

  “I want to protect you. You shouldn’t suffer for my error—”

  “It doesn’t matter. I can endure the caning, now that I know—” She broke off, coloring.

  “Yes?” Lifting her hand to his lips, he pressed a kiss into her palm. “Now that you know what?”

  She ducked her head shyly. “That you no longer believe those awful things you said. That you didn’t lie last night.”

  “I don’t. And I didn’t.” He stroked her hair. “Do you forgive me?”

  “Yes.”

  That sent his blood thundering through his veins. He didn’t deserve her kindness or trust. He shouldn’t desire her, or let her desire him. Yet he did, and he would.

  He held her close. “Stay awhile.” He managed a smile. “Give your mother time to plead on your behalf.”

  She cupped his cheek, looking as if she might do as he asked. But just then one of her brothers called out, “Darcy, I see something over there . . . in the woods! ”

  She pushed him away hard. “Go! ” When he hesitated, her voice turned pleading. “If you care for me at all, run and don’t come back. Because if they find me with you, I’ll be caned within an inch of my life.”

  Only that gave him the strength to flee into the woods. But he halted a short distance away and hid to watch as her brothers caught up with her.

  “Juliana, you little fool, you’re in big trouble now,” said the viscount. “Father will have your hide for running off! ”

  “You could tell him you couldn’t find me,” Juliana said hopefully.

  Her brother shook his head. “This isn’t like when you were a girl and I hid you from Father. If you don’t come now, ’twill be worse for you later. So it’s better to get it over with.”

  Despite the man’s sympathetic tone, Rhys had to fight the urge to jump out and snatch her from her brothers. But thrashing her brothers would only get her in more trouble.

  By thunder, this was a damned mess! He shouldn’t have come at all. And he certainly shouldn’t have held her again, allowing her to steal once more into his heart.

  Look at me, lurking behind trees, longing after an Englishwoman, and one beyond my station at that. She ought to hate me. I ought to hate her.

  Yet he didn’t. And given the chance, he would see her again. That was what worried him most.

  3

  Where there’s love it’s all in vain

  to draw the bolt or fix the chain;

  and locks of steel, where there’s desire,

  and doors of oak won’t hold that fire.

  —ANONYMOUS, “STANZAS FOR THE HARP”

  Night was falling as Darcy smoked a cigar before dinner on the terrace of Northcliffe Hall. When he saw Lettice leave the house, glance about her, and head for the woods, he frowned. She must be meeting someone. It had to be a man, or she wouldn’t be so secretive about it. But who might it be?

  Lettice was his, damn it. As soon as he and Lady Elizabeth married, he meant to make the Welshwoman his mistress. Though Elizabeth’s dowry would bolster the family fortunes and her breeding would make her an excellent hostess for social affairs, she was too cold to warm a man’s bed.

  Unlike the lovely Lettice.

  Stubbing out his cigar, he followed her at a discreet distance until she halted in a clearing, and a tall Welshman in modest dress emerged from the shadows.

  God rot it, he knew that fellow. Morgan Pennant, the printer. He had a shop on Lammas Street.

  Darcy scowled as Pennant drew Lettice into his arms and kissed her. Was Pennant the reason that she’d stopped encouraging Darcy’s kisses of late? With jealousy boiling up inside him, he edged closer to watch from behind a tree.

  After letting that bloody Welshman kiss her for far too long, Lettice jerked back. “I swear, Morgan, you try my patience. I told you last night, find someone else and leave me alone.”

  “Yes, I can see how much you want to be left alone,” Pennant said dryly, pulling her against him. “You certainly came at my summons.”

  “Only to make sure you never ‘summon’ me again.” She glanced around nervously, and Darcy flattened himself against the tree trunk.

  “You don’t mean that.” Pennant tried to kiss her again, but she turned her head.

  “I don’t want to lose my position. I won’t ever be forced to scrabble for a living like my parents, and that’s what I’ll get if I keep on with you.” She pushed Pennant away. “I know you printed those seditious pamphlets for Mr. Vaughan. One day you’ll be found out, and I don’t want to be linked with you when you are! ”

  Darcy’s eyes narrowed. Was she speaking of the same Mr. Vaughan who was his father’s enemy? The one who’d landed Juliana in trouble this morning? And what was all this about sedition?

  Pennant laughed. “I told you last night, they were done in London. Nothing to do with me.”

  Lettice turned her back to him. “I’m no fool. I know you’d do anything for your fellow Sons of Wales.”

  Darcy clenched his fists. That deuced group of radicals? Father and the burgesses had been attempting to stamp them out for some time. Lettice was right to be concerned. Being mixed up with that lot would definitely get her turned off if Father found out about it.

  Not one whit put off by her words, Pennant came up behind her to clasp her about the waist. “I won’t let your silly suspicions change what lies between us.”

/>   “It’s already changed it. I shouldn’t even have gone last night. ’Twas very foolish. And after your idiot friend came today to make accusations against my poor Lady Juliana, I ought to wash my hands of you entirely.”

  “That wasn’t my doing, and you know it.”

  “Still . . .” When Pennant began nibbling her ear, she leaned her head back against his chest with a sigh. “Can’t you just forget about the radicals?”

  Pennant turned Lettice to face him. “Nay, sweetheart, I cannot. And you don’t truly want me to. If I were a puling coward who paid lip service to English laws, then grumbled about it in the taverns, you wouldn’t love me.”

  “I don’t love you, you fool! ”

  Dragging her against him, Pennant kissed her with a passion that made Darcy rage. The scoundrel! ’Twasn’t right that he should have Lettice!

  When Pennant stopped kissing her, he chuckled. “Say again that you don’t love me, and I’ll show you again that you’re lying.”

  She clung to his shoulders in near desperation. “You devil, how could I care for a man who doesn’t have the good sense to see the danger he puts himself—and his friends—in?”

  “You’ve nothing to worry about. If I’m found out, you and I will start anew in London, or perhaps even America. You can be sure I’ll never leave you to the tender mercies of your master.” He stroked her cheek. “But no one will find out unless you tell them.”

  “I swear I’ll never tell! ” She threw her arms about his neck. “Oh, you will be careful, won’t you?”

  “Only if you promise to keep meeting me.” His voice grew serious. “I couldn’t bear it if you truly broke with me.”

  “I must be ten kinds of a fool . . .” She paused. “But God help me, I do love you.”

  His answer was to kiss her again so passionately, Darcy had to dig his fingernails into his palms to keep from leaping out and tearing into the too-handsome printer.

  But if he jumped in now, Lettice would side with her lover and Darcy would never have her. There were better ways to get what he wanted.

  First he’d see what he could find out about Pennant’s and Vaughan’s activities.