The Renegade Wife

by Warfield, Caroline

  Where the woods opened out onto the downward slope to his house, he paused. The scene below filled him with so much rage it overrode whatever else he might have felt about the violation of his sanctuary.

  A redcoat threw Drew across his saddle, belly down like a flour sack, and climbed up behind him, his skittish horse prancing across Rand’s yard.

  A second stood in the doorway with one hand on Lena’s head, the gesture oddly tender. Lena, with Cat clutched to her belly, leaned against the man’s leg as if she trusted him. Rand didn’t have time to ponder that. His attention was focused on the burning brand in the soldier’s other hand and on the barrel-chested man who dragged Meggy from the house by the arm. He had the coarse face of an aging lothario, the crooked nose of a boxer, and the bandy-legged stance of a street fighter. Blair.

  Rand reached back and slipped his Collier pistol from its holster. He nudged his horse forward. The soldiers failed to notice him.

  “Put my son down!” Meggy screamed. “His arm isn’t fully healed.” The man on the horse laughed at her.

  Blair slapped her so hard her head snapped back. “Shut up. We need to get moving. Pratt, toss that brand into the house and get the little brat up on your horse,” he shouted over his shoulder.

  Pratt hesitated. Blair yelled, “Do it now!” He dragged Meggy, who had gone limp, across the ground to his horse.

  “Don’t move, Pratt.” Rand’s voice cut across the clearing. Blair stared up into the barrel of Rand’s pistol aimed at the center of his massive chest and stopped in his tracks. “Now let go of Lena and turn that brand upside down into the snow.” Rand didn’t take his eyes off Blair, but he could see Pratt do as he said.

  “Keep your house, Wheatly, but this woman and her spawn belong to me,” Blair snarled. “Shoot me, and you’ll hang. Corporal Martin will see to it.”

  “Your corporal can’t even control his horse,” Rand said with deceptive calm.

  “You think you’re untouchable, Wheatly? I know about your people, that rich brother-in-law and his fine friends.”

  He knows about Will? Should I be impressed?

  “I have friends, too, Wheatly. Powerful friends. They do what I say.” Blair pulled Meggy a few steps closer to his horse, which had gone skittish in the excitement.

  Rand didn’t have time to ponder that peculiar speech. He pulled back the hammer of his revolver with a click and kept it leveled at Blair’s chest.

  “He’s carrying a Collier pistol, Blair!” Martin shouted. “He don’t even have to reload. He’ll shoot all three of us afore we get anywhere near ‘im.”

  “Wise man, Corporal. How about if you slide that boy down off your saddle? Gently now. Don’t spook that hack you’re riding.”

  Blair snorted. “Collier revolver? He’s as likely to blow his hand off as shoot us. We’ll get ‘im then.”

  Martin glanced from Blair to Rand, hesitant. When he stilled, the horse did too.

  “Do it, Martin, or I’ll kill Blair, and you next,” Rand told him.

  Meggy scrambled to her feet, Blair’s hand still clamped on her upper arm like iron. “Don’t, Rand. Shoot him, and you’ll hang. You don’t owe me that.”

  “Stay to the side, Meggy. I want a clear shot,” he replied, glaring down at Blair, the pistol steady.

  “Do as he says, Martin,” Blair hissed.

  “Easy now, Martin. Hurt him any further, and you’re a dead man.” The corporal did as he was told.

  Drew dropped, rolled to his feet, and glared at his father, hands fisted at his side. He took two steps toward the man, obviously ready to defend his mother. Rand recognized the look in his eyes. “Don’t do it, Drew,” he said. “See to your sister.”

  Drew looked at Lena still standing in the doorway, frowned, and made his way over to her. He put an arm around her shoulder. Private Pratt moved in front of them. He nodded at Rand behind Blair’s back.

  “Let go of her, Blair, or I’ll shoot you like the dog you are. God knows you deserve it.” All Rand heard was the wind in the trees and Lena’s whimper behind Pratt’s back. Even Meggy seemed to hold her breath.

  Blair let go of her arm so suddenly she stumbled before running back to her children. “The slut and her children are mine, Wheatly, and that makes you a thief.”

  “Get on your horse, Blair, and get out of here before I change my mind and shoot you anyway. You too, Pratt.”

  Rand kept his pistol aimed at Blair while the men mounted and turned their horses to the lane. Pratt and Martin galloped up the hill and into the woods, but Blair turned halfway up and pointed back at Meggy hugging the children in Rand’s doorway.

  “They’re mine, Wheatly. I have a writ. I’ll be back with the magistrate and the deputy to have you jailed for resisting. Won’t your fancy relatives like that?” He turned and galloped off.

  Rand eased back the hammer of his pistol when the men cleared the trees. He slid it into a holster, jumped down, and ran to Meggy and the children, pulling all of them into an embrace. Meggy began to weep almost as soon as his hand came around her back.

  “You might have killed him, and then where would we be?” she sobbed.

  “You would be safe from him.”

  “And you would be in jail or worse.”

  He didn’t deny it. He kissed the top of her head and down her cheek.

  “He won’t give up. You heard him. He’ll bring the magistrate,” she said.

  “Shush now, just shush.” He loosened his grip and raised his hand to cup her chin. Lena wrapped one arm around his leg, the other still holding Cat.

  “But he said he would come back.” Drew’s face twisted with worry.

  “I know Nebling. The magistrate is as lazy as he is stout. They won’t be back today,” Rand answered the boy without taking his eyes from Meggy’s face.

  She struggled to smile, a wet hiccup hindering the effort.

  He kissed her eyes, her cheek, her ear. “Hush now. They won’t be back today. Not today.” But when?

  It took the better part of the day to set the house to rights. Blair’s men had piled the furniture from the kitchen and study in a heap in the parlor and covered them with firewood. The study had been the worst. Rand’s drawers and much of their contents had been added to the planned bonfire.

  “What’s missing?” Meggy asked after they dragged it all back where it belonged.

  Rand ran a hand through his hair. “The papers are a disaster. My deeds were all safe in the locked drawer they couldn’t get out of the desk. Money.”

  “A great deal?” she asked.

  His deep frown implied greater loss, but he shrugged. “There’s more in a locked chest in the barn. I can’t find my father’s ring.”

  “There’s this too,” Meggy said. She held up two of his sister’s paintings. One had been torn beyond repair; damage to the other from where it had been thrown on the pile looked less severe.

  He took them from her, his face a mask of grief.

  I caused this, she thought. I brought damage to this house and sorrow to a good man. She felt sick with guilt. She wished she could give him his life back.

  Rand lay the paintings flat on his desk, upside down where he didn’t have to see them. “We have more important concerns than paintings,” he said. “We have to get the children out of here.”

  We? When did my problems become his? Fergus will make his life a misery and laugh doing it. I can’t let him. Concern for her protector pushed her fear to the back of her mind.

  Rand looked at her as if he read her thoughts. He took her hands.

  “You are not to worry. We will solve this.”

  We again. As if my life was his to fix. But it isn’t.

  Chapter 17

  “What the hell are you doing, Meggy Campeau?” Rand didn’t us
e her married name. He couldn’t make himself do that. They had struggled through the cleanup and a late supper, but he still hadn’t confronted her about the name.

  “Packing. He’ll come back with the magistrate. He’ll take you to jail.”

  “Let him try.”

  “But your family . . .”

  “My family is in England. If he thinks some scandal here will ruffle their feathers, he’s mistaken. If he tries to make trouble for them, the earl and his friends will squash him like a bug.”

  Rand could see she didn’t believe him. He took both of her shoulders in his hands. “Listen to me. You can’t run. Where will you go?”

  “I told you before. I’ll take the children to my grandmother.”

  “We already inquired among the few remaining southern villages. You don’t know where she is, or if she’s still alive. Even if she is, how can she protect you? They’ll follow.”

  “You said yourself the settlements above Lake Huron are remote. She’s there. I know she is,” Meggy insisted.

  She wants it to be true. She pretends it is, but there is no way to know. He gave her a little shake. “Listen to reason. We’ll find another place to hide you. I can build a hunting shelter some miles from here.”

  She shook her head. “They’ll know. They’ll track us. I can’t let you be arrested. You’ve done too much for us already. I’m taking the children. The weather improves every day. If I stay off the roads and out of towns—”

  “Stop, Meggy. Stop and listen to yourself!”

  She must know this is a lull. Winter’s just getting started. She’s right about one thing, though. They’ll hunt us down. If they can track me, they can track the three of them alone even more easily.

  “You’re going to drag Lena through the woods? Even with Drew’s arm healed, you’ll struggle with the sledge. You can’t manage it. You can’t even carry enough blankets for the three of you. You’ll be without shelter. You won’t want to light fires to give you away. How will you eat?”

  Tears welled in her eyes, leaving her speechless.

  “How will you keep Lena well?” he asked finally. “Do you want to lose her?”

  He held his breath at her stricken expression. He almost regretted his words; he would never have used that weapon if he had any other way to make her see sense.

  He pushed his advantage. “The villages are remote, yes, but not beyond the reach of the king’s representatives. The military travels the lakes at will and stops where it sees fit. Magistrates cover the upper lakes as well as here. If they can demand that I hand you and the children over, they can demand that your grandmother do the same. They’ll have fewer qualms about violence to enforce their will there.”

  “Then it’s hopeless. They’ll drag us back.” Meggy dropped onto the bed. She rubbed her eyes with the heels of both hands. He pulled her hands away and knelt in front of her, searching her eyes. “She could get sick again. What will you do then?” he asked softly.

  She began to rock back and forth. “I don’t know!” she wailed. “I can’t bury another child. It would kill me. They’re going to drag us back, aren’t they?”

  Her sobs lodged themselves in his heart, each one making him hate what he had to say. The urge to comfort warred with the need to say what couldn’t be helped. When he could stand it no longer, he sat on the bed next to her and took her in his arms. For a long time, he simply held her, her head cradled on his shoulder while she cried.

  He knew then what he needed to do.

  “Let me take you away,” he crooned. “We’ll go south. We’ll go to New York or Boston.”

  When she raised her head with a sniff, she opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. His eyes moved from her sad brown eyes to her lush mouth.

  He did what he had longed to do for days. He lowered his face to hers and took her mouth in a deep, soul-shattering kiss. Everything else—the room, Blair’s threats, her indecision—faded away. His reality narrowed to the feel of her body pressed to his and her mouth moving under his, deepening the kiss. He lay back on the bed, pulling her with him, and turned so that he lay above her.

  “No! Rand, no, we can’t.” She pushed him with both hands, shoving until he came out of his daze and moved a short distance away.

  “Why not?” he demanded through a lust-fogged brain.

  “I’m a married woman, like it or not,” she said, pushing him again until he flopped over on his back so she could rise. She sat up and put her clothes to right where he had rearranged them.

  He went to his feet and helped her up.

  “I won’t lie, Meggy. I want you, but—”

  She didn’t meet his eyes. He spread his hand along her chin and gently turned her so she had to face him.

  “I can’t bear the thought of you married to that animal.” He searched for some sign she understood, that she wanted him too.

  “I can’t either, but it’s my reality.” She said crisply, moving away. “I can’t change it. You can’t change it.”

  “Very well. Let’s go down to the kitchen where the table will keep us far enough apart to satisfy your sense of propriety and go over our options. Perhaps tea will help.”

  His attempt to convince her to go away with him proved fruitless, even when he promised no further advances.

  “Even if you can keep your hands to yourself, I’m not sure I can,” she said sadly.

  Just my luck to want the only virtuous woman I’ve ever met. At least the only one I’m not related to, his conscience amended.

  After what felt like hours, she agreed to stay and let him handle the authorities. She didn’t appear convinced, but he was pleased she wasn’t running out into the night.

  “Go sit by the fire,” she said, rising from the table. “I’ll bring more tea to keep your bones warm.”

  Rand nodded. He felt weary and as old as the hills. Tea might help. My sister always thought it cured all ills.

  When Meggy returned with the tea, she told him she had put whisky in it. “And enough sugar to improve the taste.” She bade him goodnight and went to put her children to bed.

  Rand rocked slowly, more determined than ever to keep Meggy and the children out of Blair’s hands. He sipped his tea and grimaced. He would confront Nebling and demand a day in court. He would accuse Blair to his face of breaking Drew’s arm. He prayed it would delay things long enough. In the end, there would be no other choice. He had to write to London and ask for help, no matter how much that hurt his pride. Bitter dregs, that, but the tea was sweet enough to cover any bitterness. Did she dump the sugar bowl in it?

  Afraid he might not be able to sleep, he hoped the whisky in the tea would help. He continued to rock and sip while the fire burned down. He puzzled over the woman and his feelings for her. He was happy he had convinced her not to run.

  Or so he thought.

  Rand woke with a blinding headache and a stiff neck in his cold study, still in the rocker. Sun that flowed through the windows momentarily confused him. How late is it?

  He rose slowly, squinted in the bright sunlight, and stretched his aching shoulders. The mug next to his chair was empty. He picked it up to fetch coffee from the kitchen.

  There was none. The kitchen felt as cold as his study. Why didn’t Meggy build up the fire when she made coffee? The empty pot told him she hadn’t done that either. Alarm shot through him.

  He took the stairs two at a time. Lena’s room and the attic were empty, denuded of any sign of Meggy Campeau or her children. A folded piece of vellum lay on the coverlet with one word in pencil on top, “Rand.” He ripped it in his rush to unfold it.

  Please remember you are not responsible for our well-being. You are not to suffer for problems that aren’t yours. I thank you for all you’ve done and wish you may reclaim your life as it was. I am sorr
y we imposed our difficulties on you. Don’t worry about the children. I will protect them.

  Meggy Blair

  The string of curses Rand let loose made his already painful head throb. That blasted woman slipped something into my tea. He glared at the empty laudanum bottle next to Lena’s bed.

  He grabbed his coat and hat from the peg in his study on his way to the door, ran to the barn, and threw open Algernon’s stall—his empty stall.

  Rand searched the barn but found no sign of his horse. A quick inspection showed him that the other animals were unmolested. The goat munched weeds along the margins of the forest. The chickens pecked their way across their pen. Only one other creature appeared to be out of place. He didn’t see Cat—not in the bedroom, not by the fire, and not in the barn.

  She took Cat. My horse and my cat. He didn’t know whether to be touched or furious. Sentiment made him vulnerable; he chose furious. He clutched anger to his heart. One more damned, duplicitous woman has run out on me. I should have expected it. This one is a thief, too.

  He stormed back to the house.

  As soon as I trusted her, she turned on me and left. How could I have been so stupid?

  He yanked off his hat and coat and threw himself into his chair. With his house empty, he could move it back into the parlor.

  I have my house back. It’s what I’ve been waiting for. So why do I feel so miserable?

  He rubbed his temples, trying to push the headache away, trying to push thoughts of Meggy away. Has she attempted to run to her grandmother, the little fool? What was it she said about the children? Cold fingers of fear rippled up his spine and made his skin crawl.

  He jumped from the chair and ran up the stairs. He searched the guest room until he found it, the crumpled piece of vellum. It had rolled under the bed. He went down on his knees, pulled it out, and spread it flat on the floor