Unable to escape, he knotted his fists in the small of his back. “Good evening, Father.”
“I’ve been waiting for you.”
“You have?”
Moving slow and catlike toward the small bar, Father picked up a crystal decanter and a second glass. “Would you care for a drink?”
“Th-thank you, my lord,” he managed, unnerved by Father’s sudden graciousness. He hoped the man wasn’t already intoxicated. He could go from jolly to vicious faster than a bolt of lightning, and Mathew didn’t think his digestion could handle another meal with Father in one of those moods.
He accepted the drink and threw back half of it, the burn of rum quelling his rising nerves. The conversation Rief had overheard played in his mind, but he wasn’t sure how to broach the subject.
“Did you have a pleasant afternoon?” Father asked, still smiling.
“Yes,” he replied hesitantly. “Thank you. And how was your day?”
He raised a finger, chuckling a bit. “It’s funny you should ask. I had a very eventful day.”
“Oh?” he said, stepping up to the sideboard to top off his glass. “Any news after you spoke with the insurance adjuster?”
“I saw you with that wrecker this afternoon.”
The crystal cork slipped from his grasp, falling on the table with a loud clatter.
His hand shook but he somehow managed to pick it up and pour rum into his glass without spilling. Heart pounding, he concentrated on replacing the cork in the decanter before he replied. “Yes, I ran into him after Mr. Kirkwood and I met with the chandler. I’m thinking of investing in a salt farm, so Mr. Lawson gave me a tour of one. Salt farms can be quite lucrative, with very little upfront capitol.”
“I saw you.”
Heat flashed across Mathew’s scalp, warming his neck and pulsing down his arms. “Yes, so you said.”
Father snickered, the sound so sinister that Mathew’s stomach began to hurt, the rum churning violently. His pulse quickened, and he told himself to calm down. There was no possibility Father could know anything. It was perfectly acceptable for two men to be in public together.
Though he wanted to flee, only guilty men ran, so he mustered the strength to hold his head high and turn around.
The victorious smile upon Father’s face chilled Mathew to the bone.
“I was with Captain Torino at this little gambling place down by the docks,” he said. “While we were waiting for the cockfight to begin, I decided to take a piss in the alley.”
Oh dear God....
The truth must have flashed across his face, because Father’s brows rose knowingly and he lifted his glass in a mocking toast. “I see you know what I am about to say.”
Mortification throbbed under his skin, burning in the sides of his cheeks and constricting his throat. His pulse beating out a static rhythm in his ears made his own words sound distant and far away. “I haven’t the foggiest what you are talking about.”
“I’ve always known there was something wrong with you.” With a gloating smile, Father sipped his drink. “I’ve had my suspicions for a long time. That whore I bought for you told me I wasted my money because her house didn’t have what you were looking for. Well, I was outraged of course. No son of mine could be a filthy sodomite, even if he does prance about like a dandy in foppish clothing. I should’ve known by your continental mannerisms and your love of Italian opera that something was wrong with you.”
The whack of a glass being set hard on the table made Mathew jump, but he was unable to stop staring at Father, unable to speak, his tongue feeling swollen and stuck to the roof of his mouth.
“Now I see you in a back alley kissing another man!” All humor gone, Father took two steps toward him, lip curled in disgust. “I nearly pissed on my shoes, I was so shocked. I’m indebted to that dirty chicken for startling you. Otherwise I might’ve seen my only son with a cock up his arse!”
Too stunned to be indignant about the incorrect assumption, and eager to put space between them, Mathew took several steps back, rum sloshing onto his wrist. “Y-you must be mistaken, my lord.”
With a sniff, he placed his hands behind his back, barely able to control his gloat. “We both know I’m not mistaken. At first, I was rather disgusted.” He rocked up on the balls of his feet, looking quite satisfied with himself. “But then I began thinking.”
The menacing pleasure in Father’s eyes held a threat that scared Mathew more than exposure. Blood pounded in his skull, humiliation warring with anger as he suddenly understood the direction of this conversation.
Father was going to publically disgrace him.
His life would be forfeit.
He would tell everyone about the affair—oh God, Rief!
The need to protect Rief, to uphold his vow to take care of him, roused Mathew’s courage. Though his hand shook, he carefully placed his glass on the buffet. Removing a handkerchief to blot at the wetness on his wrist, he asked in a controlled whisper, “How much do you want, Father?”
The bark of laughter made him flinch. “You can be smarter than I give you credit for.”
Fighting to ignore the flush of shame beating under his skin, he leveled his gaze. “You obviously have something to say. Why don’t you just have out with it, instead of playing games? What is your price for discretion?”
A flash of surprise crossed Father’s face, but it was quickly replaced with one of total contempt. “I want everything that should’ve been mine after that old bitch dropped dead.”
He could not mask his shock. “You want me to sign over my inheritance?”
Eyes shooting daggers, Father smiled. “Yes.”
Mathew actually laughed, the riot of emotions making him feel a tad insane. “You cannot expect me to agree to that.”
The laughter died on his lips when Father advanced. The dark hatred in his countenance made Mathew stumble back a step. “You think I will allow you to sully my title with your repulsive behavior? You have one choice to make. Sign everything over to me, or go to prison.”
“To hell with you,” he spat, his entire body vibrating with a barely suppressed fury. “Why would I do something so foolish? You’ll just gamble it away, and then you’ll be as poor as you are now.”
His eyes narrowed dangerously. “Watch what you say, boy. I’m feeling generous, but that can change at any time. I am a baron, so I cannot have people see my son totally in the poor house. I will allow you to keep the London brownstone. I’ll even let you keep your shares of the trading company.” Father gave him a smug smile. “It appears that you’ll have to put that degree to use instead of living off others.”
“Me living off others?” he repeated incredulously, mouth opening and closing. “I think you’ve gone mad! Mr. Kirkwood holds the majority of the trading company, and my share is second. You hold no power there.”
“I have all the power now, Mathew.”
“You certainly do not have any power to be making arrangements with Torino,” he threw back, hoping to rattle him. “What insurance adjuster were you meeting with this morning? What is it you have agreed to behind our backs?”
“Nothing that concerns you or Kirkwood. And by the morrow, he will detest the very sight of you.” He laughed again, the sound cruel and mirthless. “What do you think that fat bastard will do when he hears his only daughter is engaged to a sodomite? He values his own reputation far too much to risk anything for the likes of you. And can you imagine what Miss Kirkwood will say when she finds out you let men sail your windward passage?”
Fists at his side, Mathew went hot with rage. “You wouldn’t dare!”
He tipped his head to the side, calculating. “Wouldn’t I?”
Mathew didn’t have to reply because he already knew the answer.
Shaking his head, Father tsked. “Oh, I am quite sure she would not be happy to learn those lips you kiss her with prefer to be wrapped around another man’s stinking cock!”
“You bastard!”
&nb
sp; Not intimidated in the least, Father chuckled. “You lost, Mathew, accept it. Be a man if you are even capable, and walk away with what little dignity you have left.”
“This isn’t over,” he warned. “I won’t cave to blackmail, Father. I shall press charges of criminal libel against you if you dare pursue this.”
“It is all but done. You have no choice but to accept my terms.” He offered Mathew one last sweeping look of contempt. “Now if you will excuse me, I have something to take care of in town. Tomorrow, we will pay a visit to a solicitor and make all of this nice and legal.”
With a haughty tip of his head, Father scooped up his hat and left.
Seething with anger and shock, Mathew stared at the empty doorway. For a moment, he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. He wanted to chase after the man and pummel him for everything he was worth. Instead he stood there, clenching and unclenching his fists, trying to ease the torrent of emotions blazing through his body.
How could he have been so foolish!
His skin throbbed with fury, and the walls around him pressed in, the air suffocating him as if he were underwater again. Everything that had stopped him from following his heart, all the fears that had held him in check, had finally come to fruition.
Mathew would be ruined.
Sweat broke out on his brow, and any bravado he’d mustered moments ago was dashed.
Did he have any choice but to agree to Father’s terms? Sure it would buy discretion and silence today, but he was an even bigger fool if he thought it would end there. All control of his life would forever be in the hands of a man who hated the very sight of him. Once his father burned through the money at every gambling hall and whore house from Key West to London, he would be back, looking for more.
Mathew’s fortune, his life, was forfeit. All of it sacrificed for one brief love affair that had been doomed from the beginning.
Stomach heaving, he raced from the room. He bit back bile, his head reeling. He had to warn Rief. Maybe together they could—
A yip of surprise drew him to a halt.
Maggie!
The moment Mathew saw her standing in the hallway, the rest of the world collapsed in on him, drowning and dragging him under. He faltered and reached out to steady himself on the wall.
Please, God, no!
But he knew from the look of hurt and shock in her wide brown eyes and both hands over her mouth, that the clever girl had heard it all.
Eyes welling up with frustration and anger, Mathew shook his head, muttering as he stumbled up the stairs, “I’m sorry, Maggie. I’m so sorry!”
This was what it felt like to be in love.
No wonder poets had been writing about it since the dawn of time.
Tonight, when Rief was once more in Mathew’s arms, naked and twined in bliss, he would tell him that he loved him. They might have to part ways soon, but perhaps it did not have to end. Mathew was a merchant, was it so unlikely to imagine that he might sail this way again?
If Mathew loved Rief too—dare he hope?—perhaps they could come to some sort of arrangement, a plan to see each other as often as possible. It would never be ideal, but for men like them, it might be as close to perfect as they could manage. Even the promise of sporadic visits and brief affection was a hundredfold better than the future he’d been facing before he met Mathew.
Opening the door to his house, he stepped over the threshold, calling for his cat. “Sully? Here kitty-kitty!”
Feeling celebratory, he had bought the precocious feline a treat from one of the fishermen coming in for the day. “Guess what I have for you, kitty—”
Rief froze when he saw the man standing in his studio.
Shock and fear pounded in his skull, but Rief would be dammed if he cowered. “What are you doing in here?”
“We need to have a talk.”
Chapter Fifteen
“It is not death that a man should fear, but he should fear never beginning to live.”
—Marcus Aelius Aurelius; Roman emperor 121-180 AD
After emptying the contents of his stomach and pacing his room for an hour, Mathew had calmed. Plans formulated in his mind. The time had come to act upon them.
And swiftly.
Father would not be satisfied to merely bleed Mathew’s bank accounts. He’d been looking for any way to exact revenge for the imagined wrongs committed by Lawson Salvage, and Mathew had just handed it to him on a silver platter.
Hesitating at the top of the stairs, he listened intently, hoping to leave the inn unnoticed. He didn’t have the strength to face Maggie and the barrage of questions headed his way. He could easier throw a million feathers into the wind and collect them all before he could ever expect his best friend to forget what she’d overheard. The hurt in her eyes had stung worse than salt in an open wound.
Did she hate him? Would she forgive him?
Then again, did it matter?
If everything went according to plan, he might never see her again.
Tamping down the swell of painful emotions that threatened his resolve, he told himself to think about that later. His life was on the cusp of destruction—either financially or literally, he didn’t know yet. But he did know that he couldn’t spare his relationship with Maggie any thought, or the grief of losing her would make him unable to think clearly.
He needed all of his wits for this outrageous plan to work.
Once sure of solitude, he slipped down the steps and hurried outside. Dusk had come and gone, the pink stains in the sky giving way to night as ominous clouds threatened to strangle the last of the light. The air was cool, and he could feel the pressure of impending rain. Soon the clouds would overtake the stars, and the sliver of moon on the horizon would be lost in a darkness that would consume the entire island.
A similar darkness coiled around Mathew’s guts as he relived his father’s threats, the insults, and the hatred in his eyes. He longed to have it out with the man, once and for all, damming the consequences. If he could tell Father everything he’d ever felt, air every wrong done to him, maybe the pain in his chest would lessen. Such a confrontation might be the only way to stop his heart from being destroyed.
If he did that, however, Rief would be wounded in the crossfire.
The public shame Rief would endure if Mathew allowed them to be exposed, the gossip and humiliation, would be too much. It was one thing to ruin his own life by taking on a greedy tyrant, but he could not ask Rief to do the same.
Mathew had promised to take care of him, and that was what he planned to do.
All his life, Rief had lived on the outside, emotionally abandoned. His unfathomable gift of sight caused everyone to hate and shun him. He’d barely been getting by, finding only a measure of peace in Mathew’s image.
Mathew should fear the forces that enabled Rief to paint him before they met, but how could he fear the only person who gave him the courage to be the man he wanted to be?
How could he be afraid of the man he loved?
Heart beating faster, he increased his steps, hope simmering in his chest.
Why it had taken him so long—rather, so little time to realize that he loved Rief, he didn’t know. The opportunity to tell him spurred his pace until he was all but running down Duval Street.
Just a little farther and he could hold Rief in his arms. Mathew would tell him he loved him and that he wanted to be with him forever, to hell with what others thought!
His father might plan to publically shame him, but he couldn’t do it if they fled.
Together, Mathew and Rief could go somewhere else, start a new life where no one knew of Rief’s abilities, and no one would judge or hate him. Mathew had the money to take them anywhere they wanted. They could flee the island and lose themselves in the American frontier. Paris or Rome—it didn’t matter as long as they were together.
Running was the only way they would ever have a chance to let this burgeoning relationship flourish into the joyful union that destiny offered.
After years of being misunderstood, they both deserved a chance to be loved. And if they were not meant to spend their lives together, then why had Rief spent all this time painting Mathew?
In his heart, he understood—no, he knew what all of it meant.
Determined, he rounded the corner and hurried toward the wharf. Seeing the warehouse in the distance eased some of the tension from his shoulders. The crisp dampness in the air portended more than rain, but a storm, and the dropping temperatures made him shiver. Clouds were rolling in fast. Still a block away, he thought they looked darker above the warehouse. And they sat awfully low in the sky....
A chilly breeze whipped over him, bringing with it a familiar aroma of smoke.
Those were not storm clouds.
“Fire!”
Dread sank his stomach at that terrible word shouted in the distance.
Mathew ran.
Though mere seconds, it felt as if an eternity passed before he arrived at the warehouse. He took in the chaotic scene, the panicked men, and bucket brigade already underway. Smoke billowed around them and orange flames licked their way across the top of Chambers’s warehouse.
Rief’s home was at the center of it all.
Heart pounding and out of breath, Mathew frantically searched the crowds for Rief. When a man dashed past, he grabbed his arm. “Have you seen Rief Lawson?” he demanded, pointing to the loft. “He lives up there!”
“Don’t know,” the man cried, shoving a pail into his hands before running away. “Get in line! We can’t let it spread!”
The winds off the sea posed a real concern, feeding the flames that threatened to spread to other buildings. If they didn’t contain the fire quickly, the entire town could be destroyed before the rain had a chance to douse the growing blaze. Mathew, however, had only one thing on his mind.
Where is Rief?
Helpless with frustration, he turned this way and that, the people around him nothing but a blur. The ringing bells of a fire team sounded over the rising wind, men shouting to make room for the wagon carrying the much needed cistern of water. They worked like mad to soak the lower level of the warehouse, and some men had the forethought to pull out goods, trying to salvage what they could.
Wrecked Page 25
