by Laura Landon
He didn’t move away, but pressed against her. “This is hardly a kind reception for a visitor, Lady Fledgemont.”
“Leave.”
One word was all she could manage. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. His body pressed against her, forcing her to stand still.
Their gazes locked. She couldn’t have looked away from him if she’d tried. He held her gaze as securely as he held her wrists, as firmly as he confined her body.
“Stay calm. I’m not going to hurt you.”
Her blood turned to ice.
“Are you alone?” he asked.
His voice was lethal and unyielding, the glare in his brilliant blue eyes still held her captive.
She attempted to move but he wouldn’t allow it. The solid length of his body pressed closer, his fingers around her wrists like steel tentacles. Her flesh quivered where they touched and she was blatantly aware of every sinewy muscle holding her, surrounding her.
His shoulders were broad and powerful but his grasp was gentle even in its strength. How could that be?
Coils of pinpricks shot from where his fingers held her wrists. Raging spirals of heat traveled down her arms, through her chest, then low to a place that had never felt such a sensation.
What was wrong with her? She’d never experienced anything so consuming in her life. Never felt so helpless, so overwhelmed.
She focused on his face, taking note of everything about him. A softer expression overshadowed the immovable hardness she’d noticed before. The icy coldness in his eyes warmed—if that was possible. The rigid lines of his lips softened enough to draw her gaze. And hold it.
A deepening sense of shame overtook her. How could she possibly notice such small details about a man who’d broken into her home and held her captive? How could she want to stay in his embrace as if his arms were some kind of haven?
Deep furrows etched his forehead as if he’d read her thoughts and they puzzled him. A jagged scar ran crosswise from his temple to his ear, and another faint line ran across his cheek. The scars would have made any other villain appear more dangerous, but they didn’t this man. They enhanced his rugged masculinity and heightened her awareness of him. She wanted to believe he wasn’t the threat she’d first thought him to be.
But he was. He’d called her Lady Fledgemont. Someone had sent him to find her—to find Jonathan.
“Please, leave. I have nothing you could possibly want.”
A smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “You don’t know how I wish that were true.”
His voice was a whisper. His words confused her. Unfortunately, she didn’t have time to evaluate what he might mean. Before she was prepared to support herself, he released her hands and stepped away from her.
She staggered, then caught herself on the corner of the wooden table and held steady.
“I’ll not harm you,” he said. “I only want to speak with you.”
She didn’t believe him. She couldn’t.
He turned to face her. “Can we find some place more comfortable?”
She nodded.
He glanced at the water still boiling on the stove. “Were you making tea?”
“Yes.”
“If you don’t mind, I would like a cup, and I think you need one, too.”
“Why are you here?”
She asked the question even though she already knew the answer. She prayed Jonathan wouldn’t wake up, wouldn’t cry. He hadn’t asked about the babe. Perhaps he didn’t know about him. Perhaps, as her father had often said, pigs could fly.
She wasn’t sure how long he silently watched her, evaluating her in a calculating manner. She opened her mouth to repeat her question then stopped when he held up his hand.
“Make the tea. I’ll wait for you in the front parlor and we’ll discuss the reason I’ve come.”
He turned his back on her and walked to the kitchen door. She studied his retreating form and mentally evaluated how long it would take her to rush up the back stairs, gather Jonathan, and escape through the kitchen door.
“Lady Fledgemont?” He stopped when he reached the door and turned. “You won’t make it. And even if you do, I’ll find you again.”
Before she could respond, he turned and was gone.
She walked to the side table and with hands that shook, placed two cups and saucers on the tea tray. She reached to pick up the tray, then stopped and braced her hands on the wooden surface. She dropped her head between her outstretched arms as wave after wave of terror engulfed her.
He thought she was Lady Fledgemont. He didn’t know she wasn’t.
Sarah squeezed shut her eyes. What did it matter who he thought she was? Somehow he’d found her. Which meant he knew about Jonathan. Now, neither of them was safe.
Her mind hurried through a dozen different ways she could escape with Jonathan and knew none of them had a prayer of succeeding. Austin Landwell was a powerful adversary. The Earl of Penderly had chosen well.
Even though this was the first time she’d met Captain Landwell, she knew he was a force with whom to be reckoned. Perhaps allowing him to think she was Lady Fledgemont would work to her advantage. After all, only a monster would separate a mother from her child. And that’s all that mattered to her. She’d promised Lady Fledgemont she wouldn’t let Penderly have him. Promised her on her deathbed that she’d always take care of Jonathan. And she intended to keep that promise.
Jonathan was hers now. And no one would take him from her.
With a new resolve, she picked up the tea tray and walked to the front parlor, ready to face her enemy.
The door was open. She stepped into the room and came to a halt.
Her gaze found him as if she knew he’d be standing instead of sitting, as if she knew he’d be on the opposite side of the room so she couldn’t enter without him noticing her. As if she knew he’d seem relaxed and at ease, instead of wound tight as a spring like she was. One look at him told her he was accustomed to being in control of every situation. That he didn’t allow himself to be trapped in a situation he couldn’t control.
Well, she intended to control this situation. She intended to fight to keep Jonathan as if he was her own.
He looked at her and trapped her in his gaze. Her heart turned a slow somersault. Being in the same room with him caused her world to shift beneath her. She’d never met a man who made her insides churn like he did. But she couldn’t allow him to affect her.
She crossed the room and placed the tea tray on the small table between two cushioned chairs.
“Please, pour,” he said when she hesitated. “Then be seated.”
She let his forwardness pass, and poured each of them a cup of tea before she sat in one of the chairs. He sat in the opposite chair and lifted his cup.
She took one obligatory sip from her cup, then set down her saucer and let her gaze bore into him. “Why are you here, Captain Landwell?”
“You’re a very straightforward woman,” he said, calmly drinking from his cup. When he finished, he placed one ankle atop the opposite knee and rested the dainty cup and saucer on his leg.
“And you’re a very intrusive man,” she added.
She thought the corners of his mouth lifted ever so slightly but knew she was probably mistaken. He slowly uncoiled from his relaxed position and placed his cup and saucer on the table, then leveled her with a frigid look.
“Where’s Miss Bentley?”
“Miss Bentley?”
He held up his hand and leaned forward in his chair. “Is she with the babe?”
Sarah had lived with fear so long now that she thought nothing could frighten her more. She was conditioned to looking over her shoulder, to being anxious of every stranger she met. But nothing had prepared her to face such blatant intimidation.
“It will only take me a moment to search the house and—”
She bolted to her feet and placed herself between him and the door. She couldn’t let him leave the room until she convinced him to forget
he’d located her and the baby.
He rose but didn’t move toward her.
“Lord Penderly sent you, didn’t he?” She swiped her hand in front of her. “Of course he did.”
She was desperate to protect Jonathan. She’d promised she would. He couldn’t help the circumstances surrounding his birth. He wasn’t responsible for the hatred Penderly harbored because his son had married an actress.
She lifted her gaze. “Leave,” she demanded. “Go away and forget you found us. Tell Lord Penderly that he has nothing to fear from me. That I’ve returned to the stage. Or that you couldn’t find me. I don’t care what you tell him.”
His brows arched. “And the child? What should I tell the earl about his grandchild?”
She gathered more determination. “Why do you have to tell him anything?”
“Because he deserves to know.”
“Then, tell him whatever you want. That there was a child but he’s dead. He should be happy to hear that.”
The stranger stared at her as if she’d escaped Bedlam.
“Do you realize we’re talking about the Earl of Penderly’s heir?”
Sarah took a step toward him. “This child will never inherit the Penderly title. If you allow the earl to take him under his roof, the child won’t live to see his first birthday!”
The captain’s eyes narrowed. “You can’t believe that.”
“I more than believe it. I know it for a fact. The Earl of Penderly does not want him. I will not allow him to have him. I am his mother. He is mine. Do you hear me? Mine!”
He closed the gap between them. “The Earl of Penderly may have his share of faults, Lady Fledgemont, but he also lives with his share of regrets. And being estranged from your late husband without the opportunity to apologize for the threats he made is what he regrets most.”
“Is that what he told you? Did he convince you he wanted to find his grandson so he could welcome him into the bosom of his family?”
“No, he hired me to find you. He doesn’t know he has a grandson.”
Her heart dropped in her breast. That was a lie. He knew. Because he’d already made one attempt to murder him. But she’d play along with his game if it might work to her advantage. “Then there’s no need for him to find out about Jonathan.”
“Don’t you think Penderly has a right to know he has an heir? Don’t you think Jonathan deserves to grow up knowing who he is and with the benefits and the training he’ll need to inherit the Penderly title?”
She faced him squarely. “What I think is that the earl will move heaven and earth to prevent any child whose mother was an actress from inheriting the Penderly title.”
For several moments the two stared at each other. His expression told her he was determined to prove her a liar.
Sarah refused to be the first to yield. She couldn’t. She’d lose Jonathan if she did.
When she thought there was no solution to their impasse, he made the first move. He walked to the chairs where they’d sat before and pointed.
“Sit down. Please.”
Sarah hesitated, but not long. She knew she didn’t have a choice. She walked across the room and sat.
He took his seat next to her.
“I could take the baby by force.”
“You could. But you won’t.”
His brows arched. “What makes you think that?”
“If you intended to take the baby without consideration for his welfare, you would have done it when you arrived. Now your conscience won’t allow you to remove him.”
He sat back in his chair and studied her. “My conscience? What makes you think I have a conscience?”
She saw surprise in his expression. Whether his surprise was because she was aware he had a conscience, or because he no longer thought he did didn’t matter. She knew he did. “You have one. I believe you’re an honorable man and you won’t do anything until you are sure it’s the right thing to do.”
“And you believe you can convince me that giving the Earl of Penderly his heir and his grandson would be the wrong thing to do?”
“Yes.”
“Very well.” He relaxed in his chair. “What reason can you offer to convince me that returning Penderly’s grandson would not be in the boy’s best interest?”
“The best reason in the world,” she replied, not letting her gaze waver from him. “Penderly wants Jonathan dead.”
Chapter 3
Austin stared at her while his mind absorbed what she’d just said. The expression on her face left no room to doubt her words, and yet…
He rose from his chair and walked to the window. Her gaze was so direct, so challenging, so contradictory to the soft lines of her face that he needed to separate himself from her. She already affected him far more than any woman had since his early youth.
He didn’t like the way his body had reacted when he’d pressed her against the door. Her touch shattered every nerve in his body, and when he looked into her fearless ebony eyes, time stuttered. Even though he’d tried not to, his gaze had moved downward until it halted on her lips. Bloody hell, he’d wanted to kiss her.
The woman’s husband was hardly cold in the grave and he was entertaining the most improper thoughts he’d ever had for a woman. What the hell was wrong with him?
He braced his hands on either side of the window frame and looked out. He had to focus on the job he’d been hired to do, except what she’d just told him made that almost impossible.
He turned. “Why do you believe Penderly wants the child dead?”
“Because he’s already tried to kill him once.”
Austin’s insides clenched as though he’d been struck by a boulder. She had to be mistaken. The man who’d come to ask for his help was desperate to find his family. Not destroy it. And he hadn’t mentioned having a grandson. Austin would wager he didn’t know there was a child.
“Are you sure someone wants to harm the child?”
“Yes, Captain Landwell, I’m sure.”
“What makes you think Penderly was behind the attempt?”
“Who else would want to kill an innocent child?”
“Maybe they weren’t after the child.”
“Then they were after…me.”
“Perhaps they weren’t after either of you.”
The look she gave him said how wrong he was. “Where is the babe?”
She lifted her gaze. “He’s asleep.”
“Is Miss Bentley with him?”
Lady Fledgemont’s expression fell and she shook her head. “She…didn’t survive the trip to London.”
“What happened?”
She swallowed and clutched her hands in her lap. “She wasn’t strong enough. Caring for her mother, then her father, then losing them both, took a toll on her health. When she came to us, she was nearing exhaustion.”
She turned her gaze from him as if reliving that time was difficult for her.
“After Gregory died, I’m afraid I wasn’t quite myself. Miss Bentley was left with caring for me, as well as Jonathan. Then, after the attempt on Jonathan’s life, we were forced to leave Wakemoor in the middle of the night and travel for several days without stopping.
“Each day she became weaker. I feared she wouldn’t reach London—and she didn’t. We arrived at an inn several hours from London, called the Horse and Bridle. She was so weak she was unable to continue. Miss Bentley died there.”
Tears filled Lady Fledgemont’s eyes but she blinked rapidly to keep them from spilling down her cheeks. It was obvious to Austin that the two ladies had truly formed a friendship, but from somewhere, Lady Fledgemont found the inner strength to keep from making it a weakness. It took a moment before she was able to continue.
“The innkeeper’s wife, Mrs. Carmichael, was more than kind. She did everything she could to make Miss Bentley’s last days as comfortable as possible, but the poor girl was too weak to go on.”
Lady Fledgemont clenched her hands in the fabric of her skirt. “We bur
ied her there, in the cemetery near the parish church.” She lifted her gaze and challenged him. “You can go there if you don’t believe me. The vicar can show you the grave.”
“How long were you there?”
“A fortnight. Perhaps a few days longer.”
“Then you left with the baby.”
She nodded. “I took Jonathan and continued to London.”
“Why did you choose London, Lady Fledgemont?”
His question seemed to surprise her. “London was my home before I met Gregory. Where else would I go?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps some place far away from the Earl of Penderly if you were truly afraid of him.”
“Believe me, I am. But I doubt Lord Penderly frequents these parts of London.”
“Would you take me to your son?”
A look of doubt flashed on her face, then evaporated as if she realized it was impossible to prevent him from seeing the boy.
She led the way across the room and out the door.
Austin followed her down the hallway, then up the stairs. She stopped at the second door on the right and slowly opened it. He stepped in behind her.
Bright sunshine streamed through the two windows, lighting the room with a fairy dusting of sunbeams. The baby slept in a basket in the corner.
She walked to the makeshift cradle and looked down on the sleeping babe. Her face lit with a warm smile filled with that special love a mother has for her child.
Penderly’s grandson had a full head of curly blond hair, damp with perspiration and pressed to his forehead. His face was full and round, and his cheeks were dotted with two red circles. Austin didn’t consider himself a good judge of babies, but Penderly’s grandson looked to be quite a handsome little fellow.
“This is Jonathan.” She brushed a damp curl from his forehead. “He was up most of last night.”
“Is he ill?”
She shook her head. “He’s teething.”
