Enter The Brethren (The Brethren of the Coast)

by Devlin, Barbara

  “Trevor.”

  #

  With a burst of energy, Trevor charged his blade, lunged and caught Cavalier in the chest.

  The pirate glanced at himself, at the red stain spreading on his white shirt, and then looked Trevor in the eyes. “Victory is yours, mon ami. Until we meet again.” The villain sketched a mock salute and leapt into the river.

  Trevor turned and searched for his wife. When he found her, his gut seized. For the briefest moment, they locked gazes. Terror functioned as a cruel link, and her fear ensnared his senses. With both arms extended, Caroline beckoned before disappearing into the fog.

  “No!”

  Denial mixed with rage, igniting every nerve, rousing every muscle. Like a madman, Trevor cut the throat of a pirate that foolishly got in his way, and then sliced open the gut of another. Moving, swift and sure, he severed the royal backstay and, with a steely grip on the rope and a running jump, propelled himself atop the quarterdeck. Discarding his sword, he doffed his coat and dove overboard.

  The icy depths of the Thames enveloped his body and left him gasping for air. Strong undercurrents tugged at his feet, and he fought to tread water. “Caroline.”

  The yellow glow of lanterns played eerily in the fog, but Trevor neither heard nor saw any sign of his wife. Certain the layers of velvet and lace she wore would act as an anchor, he had to work fast. She could not--would not--outlast their deadly summons.

  “Ahoy, Lockwood, are you there?” Blake called through the darkness from the opposite direction. “The Marine Police have launched several skiffs.”

  “I am here,” he responded. “Fan out and search for Caroline.”

  Trevor continued his efforts in silence, mindful that any noise might muffle sounds of his bride. Finally, he relaxed and let the river take him, hoping the natural motion would reunite them. It took all his strength to keep his head above the surface.

  A definite slosh caught his ear.

  With renewed vigor, Trevor swam toward the slight noise in the aqueous mire. “Caroline, is that you?”

  There was no response, so he treaded water once again.

  Despair penetrated his heart as the Thames had penetrated his clothes. Gloom thick as the fog chilled his mind and soul.

  Something brushed his ankle.

  He submerged into the frigid river and blindly reached with his hands. A strange sensation tickled his fingers. He kicked hard and grasped what he realized was Caroline’s hair. In his excitement, Trevor forgot where he was, opened his mouth to shout the alarm, and almost drowned them both. When he regained the surface, he choked and sputtered before summoning assistance.

  “I have her.” He struggled with the weight of his wife’s limp body, then slipped an arm under hers and held her to his side. “Someone--anyone--help us.”

  “Stand fast, Lockwood,” Dirk replied immediately. “Give me another shout so that I may fix your location.”

  “We’re here.”

  After what seemed hours, Trevor noted the distinct splash of oars, and a skiff came into view.

  “Thank God.”

  With utmost care, he gave an unresponsive Caroline into Dirk and Lance’s custody. As the latter began attempts to resuscitate her, Trevor fell into the tiny boat. Just as fast, he bent over the side and heaved the foul river water he had ingested. He was wiping his face when the first feminine cough broke the tense quiet. Soon, Caroline mirrored his stance as she returned that which would have killed her to the Thames.

  He rubbed her shoulders and whispered words of reassurance while Dirk took up the oars. “Relax, darling. Don’t fight it.”

  “Trevor.” Shivering, her teeth chattering, his bride turned and buried her face in his chest. “I thought I would never see you again.”

  “Lockwood saved you,” Lance said. “He went in without hesitation.”

  “Bloody ridiculous fool.” Caroline wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him tight. “I want to go home.”

  Home.

  The word had held no meaning prior to his marriage. Now, home meant everything to Trevor. Home was wherever he was with his wife. However, he was no fool. Despite his lady’s apparent happiness to see him, much unfinished business remained as a very real chasm between them. And he was willing to do whatever necessary to get her back.

  “Anything for you, love.” Trevor pressed his lips to her damp hair. “Anything for you.”

  #

  With Caroline in his arms, Trevor took the stairs two at a time. At the landing, he turned left and made for their apartments. In the hall, he paused and stared at the door to her chambers. Frowning, he headed for his suite. As he neared, a footman set the oak panel wide. He stomped through his receiving room and strode straight to his bedchamber.

  “I can walk. You should see me, I have been doing it for years.”

  “I beg your pardon?” He glanced at his bride, noted her smile, and set her feet on the rug before his four-poster. “You had a rough day. I thought to spare you the strain.”

  “Trevor, you must not worry.” She patted his cheek. “I am fine.”

  “You could have drowned.”

  “But I did not.” Caroline tugged on her wet gown. “Will you help me undress? I want a hot bath and a fresh night rail.”

  “Here, allow me.” He grabbed fistfuls of the tattered garment, ripped it apart from the bodice, and tried not to ogle her lovely breasts. A commotion in the hall had him peering over his shoulder. “What in bloody hell--”

  Blake charged into the room with Dirk, Lance, and Damian in tow. “Lockwood, I want to see my...sister.”

  His brother-in-law looked at Trevor, then Caroline.

  “You animal.” Blake clenched and unclenched his hands. “She just survived a kidnapping and near-drowning. Can you not give her a measure of uninterrupted rest?”

  “Rylan, I have had enough of your meddling in my marriage.” Before Trevor could utter another word, the interfering duke pounced.

  Blake caught him by the throat. “Was it worth it, Lockwood?”

  He gripped Blake’s neck, in turn, ruining the elegantly folded cravat. “Was what worth it?”

  “What happened tonight was your fault.” Blake shoved him back two steps. “You put her at risk.”

  “This is none of your affair, Rylan.” Trevor regained his ground.

  “The hell it is not.” The arrogant lord shook him hard. “Caroline is my sister.”

  “And she is my wife.” Trevor eased the lady in question out of harm’s way and then lunged at her brother. “You saw to that.”

  “Blackguard.” Blake’s fist connected with Trevor’s jaw and a wicked brawl ensued.

  #

  As her husband and sibling tumbled on the carpet, Caroline skittered into the dressing room and wiggled out of her ruined gown. A loud crash reverberated on the walls, and she almost jumped out of her skin. Quickly, she draped Trevor’s favorite black satin robe over her shoulders and cinched the belt at her waist. She hurried into the bedchamber before one of the two most important men in her life killed the other. And if anyone was going to send Trevor to the hereafter, she claimed first rights.

  “Do your best,” Trevor bit off between punches. “As long as I have Caroline, you cannot hurt me.”

  His impromptu declaration, although lacking charm and romance, was nonetheless compelling.

  Seeking assistance in parting the imbeciles, she motioned for her friends to intercede. To her dismay, Dirk, Lance, and Damian stood placing wages on the eventual winner. When the battling boors knocked over a table bearing a brandy decanter and matching glasses, a lone unbroken balloon rolled to her feet. Caroline picked up the delicate crystal and hurled it at the hearth. It shattered on impact and the immense crack stopped the fight.

  “Enough.”

  For the second time that night, she confronted an impressive compliment of the male sex.

  Mindful of shards, she faced her brother and pointed toward the door. “Get out.”

 
Blake’s eyes grew wide. “I beg your pardon?”

  “You heard me.”

  “But--I am defending you.”

  “And being pigheaded and ungrateful in the process.” She folded her arms. “Out. All of you.”

  “Caroline?” Her ill-tempered elder sibling set hands on hips. “Are you choosing him over me?”

  “Blake Thornton Deverell Elliott, so help me--”

  “Are you sure, sister?”

  “Out!”

  “All right.” Astonishment evident in his gaze, he raised both palms in implied surrender. “I am leaving.”

  “Perhaps we should bow to the lady’s wishes. Come, brothers.” Whistling in monotone, Damian inclined his head. “Bloody hell, she sounded just like your mother.”

  “Oh, shut up.” With a lethal scowl, Blake ushered Dirk and Lance into the hall.

  “She even did that thing with her chin. It was scary,” Lance said just before the door closed.

  Peaceful solitude fell on the earl’s suite.

  Caroline had much to say to her husband. She had so many questions. Until she had the answers she needed, their future, and the future of their marriage, was hostage to uncertainty.

  “Trevor?”

  “Aye?”

  “Did you mean what you said?”

  “What?”

  “That as long as you have me, you cannot be hurt?” Caroline twined her thumbs and tamped her agitation. “Tell me truly.”

  “Yes,” he stated with a pained expression.

  She would have danced a jig if there were not so much more to be discussed. But now she had hope as a shield.

  “Then where have you slept the past few nights?” She held her breath and promised herself she would react with the dignity befitting a countess.

  “At Lord Markham’s.”

  “Oh?” Caroline sighed. “Did you not take a mistress?”

  “No.”

  All right. The man could live--with his most prized protuberance intact.

  “Why not?”

  He shuffled his feet and gazed at the floor. “Because I only want you.”

  At that moment, her heart sang. Yet this was no time to celebrate, she had one more query to pose.

  “If that is the case, then why did you leave me?”

  He compressed his lips and furrowed his brow. “I thought you were having an affair with Lord Darwith.”

  The force of his statement hit Caroline as the cold waters of the Thames. She stared at her husband. “Have you so little faith in me?”

  Trevor looked her straight in the eyes. “It is not a question of faith.”

  “Pray, explain yourself.”

  “You are not the problem.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “I am. And I know you were not involved with Darwith. I am ashamed I doubted you. Thank you for returning the sword.”

  “How did you--”

  “I met with him and discovered my error.”

  “I see.” She swallowed hard. “What else?”

  “Your family.” He lowered his chin. “Your friends.”

  “What about them?”

  “I don’t belong.” His frowned deepened. “I am an outsider.”

  “Nonsense, they adore you.” At his expression of skepticism, she shrugged. “Well, these things take some getting used to.”

  “No longer will I tolerate their interference in our marriage.” Trevor walked toward her. “It is humiliating and insulting.”

  A multitude of thoughts raced through her brain. Caroline bit her lip. “Perhaps you should depart London. If you are beyond their influence, they cannot interject their opinions.”

  “You wish to be rid of me?” he inquired, as would a lost little boy.

  Silly man. Did he really believe she would send him away? She would have laughed if he did not appear so sad. Obviously, they still had issues to resolve. As Caroline made to clarify her statement, a knock at the door brought her up short.

  “Come,” her husband barked.

  “I beg your pardon, my lord.” The butler bowed. “Doctor Handley has arrived.”

  “Excellent.” She nodded. “Show him to my sitting room.”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  “Also, send for my maid and ring for a bath.”

  “At once, your ladyship.”

  “And, Roberts?”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  “Have Annie pack my trunk. His lordship and I shall journey to--” She glanced at Trevor. “Where did you say we were going?”

  With manifest surprise, her spouse uttered, “Sussex.”

  “We depart for Sussex before dawn.”

  #

  “Are we there yet?” Caroline rubbed her eyes and shifted in the cushions as the coach halted.

  Trevor gazed out the window and wondered what possessed him to bring his wife to his old hideout. “Aye.”

  A footman opened the door, and Trevor stepped down. “I have owned this cottage for years, though it has been some time since I last stayed here.”

  Built of stone with a thatched roof, the structure sported a front door covered in peeling paint. Overgrown grass and weeds shrouded a cobblestone walkway, and the enclosing fence was in a state of disrepair. When he unlatched the gate, the panel fell from its hinges.

  “Perhaps this is not a good idea.”

  At his side, his wife tugged at the strings of her bonnet and surveyed the tiny structure. “Nonsense. Brethren women persevere.”

  With high steps, Trevor tromped through the tall grass, pulled a key from his pocket, and unlocked the door.

  Inside, the place was in shambles.

  Because he never brought servants to the cottage, nothing had been protected from dust by slipcovers. Thus a white film coated every piece of furniture. A sudden noise sent Caroline into his arms, and he spied several birds exiting the dwelling through a gaping hole in the roof. No doubt they were the source of the foul odor that welcomed them at the threshold.

  “This is a disaster.” Trevor cupped her chin. “Perhaps we can take a room at the coach inn in the village?”

  She seemed to consider his offer, and then asked, “Why did you bring me here?”

  “I wanted to be alone with you.” He heaved a sigh and trailed a finger along the curve of her cheek. “Your family could easily travel to Althrup, but they don’t know about this place.”

  Her answering smile soothed his injured pride. “Well, if we enlist the aid of the footmen and driver, the roof could be repaired before nightfall. And I can clean the cottage, it is not very big.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  But his bride was already recruiting the servants.

  After unloading the coach, they made a quick trip into the nearby town. While Trevor purchased supplies needed to fix the hole, his wife bought a slew of comfort items from a local merchant. Upon returning to their seaside abode, they divided the work. He picked up a hammer, and she grabbed a mop and bucket.

  His gentler half whistled while she cleaned, and he was eternally grateful to whatever benevolent fate bestowed on him such a remarkable woman. The damage to the roof was not as bad as he had thought, and with assistance from two footmen, he completed his task in a couple of hours. Finally, after issuing orders to return in a sennight, he dispatched the servants.

  When he entered the cottage, a tempting aroma filled the great room. Trevor stood at the threshold and noted the changes. A thick rug lent warmth to the now clean wood floor, a makeshift drapery framed the large window overlooking the beach, and the furniture no longer appeared ghostly. Everything had been moved to a more functional arrangement, and fluffy pillows perched at both ends of the sofa. A small table had been righted and bore several lit candles. In the hearth, a roaring blaze bathed the dining area in soft gold.

  “Do you like it?”

  To his left, Caroline stood at the range.

  “How did you manage all this?”

  “Actually, there was not much to be done.” She smiled and shrugg
ed. “Although this room was very dirty, the two small bedchambers were relatively clean. Once I swept and mopped, and beat the cushions, the rest was just décor.”

  “And the curtains?”

  “The tiebacks are strings that I cut from an apron. The panels are bed linens, and they are pinned.” She gave her attention to a pot, picked up a spoon, and stirred what appeared to be stew. “I thought I could hem them during our stay. I will take measurements and order new drapes from my favorite purveyor in London.”

  She could have knocked him over with a feather. “You wish to come here again?”

  “Of course.” Caroline added a pinch of seasoning to the stew and sampled the results. “It is lovely. And the extra bedchamber would make a wonderful nursery.”

  Trevor almost fainted. “N-nursery?”

  “Indeed.” She sprinkled spices from another tin into the pot. “This is the perfect place to bring our children. They can make sandcastles during the day and, when they are older, study the stars at night.”

  “I see.” He swallowed the panic rising in his throat. “Have we much time--before dinner--that is? Is there water for washing?”

  “Yes.” She set the spoon down and wiped her hands on her apron. “A hipbath has been prepared in the extra chamber, and I have already bathed. Also, I set out some clothes for you.”

  “Excellent. Give me five minutes, and I shall be ready to eat,” he said as he strolled down the hall. Free from her insightful gaze, Trevor stripped off his soiled garments and discovered the hipbath was too small for his large frame. Half sitting, he made a mental note to purchase a new tub and managed to clean himself. After donning fresh attire, he returned to the great room and found Caroline setting a basket, filled with chunks of bread, at the center of the table.

  “Good heavens.” He fingered a napkin, pulled out a chair, and sat. “This looks just like home.”

  “Really?” Caroline inclined her head, and her face was radiant. “I had hoped you would think so.”

  “You have outdone yourself, love.” He picked up a fork and stabbed a morsel of beef in the bowl she had put before him.

  Compliments, words of encouragement and praise, danced on his tongue, but Trevor lacked the courage to say what he knew his wife wanted to hear. So they passed the meal in deafening silence. Afterward, he helped clear the dishes.