by Mary Brendan
‘Why run away, then, if it’s urgent? You can speak to me now.’
His lazy challenge made Faye throw down the reins and pivot on a heel to gaze up at him with sparking green eyes. About to remind him that she’d told him before that she wasn’t afraid of him, she swallowed the untruth. He might have been a boon to her and quite unlike the man he was painted to be...but something about him made her feel wary. And she knew what it was: the likelihood of Mrs Gideon’s warning about him expecting payment in kind coming to pass.
He approached the balustrade that spanned the width of the mellow red-brick building, propping his sinewy forearms nonchalantly on mossy stonework, and watched her with quiet intensity, as a tomcat might assess its prey before leaping...devouring.
Hungry eyes... Mrs Gideon’s rough description filled Faye’s mind and she felt certain that he could pounce even from that height and catch her, if he wanted to. Like a creature that accepts it has been cornered she remained still and silent, her eyes locked with his.
He broke the spell. ‘Go and wait inside...’ He drew from his breeches’ pocket a key and unlocked one of a pair of blackened oak doors, shoving it open. ‘I’ll join you in a few minutes.’
He walked back the way he’d come, not once looking around. Faye watched as his noiseless cat-like stride took him around the side of the building towards the stables. She realised she’d not heard him approach because he was barefoot. Either he didn’t care now if she bolted or he was confident enough of his hold over her, and the choice she’d make, to leave her be.
Chapter Nine
The hallway of the house was blissfully cool and it took some moments for Faye’s vision to adjust to the dim interior after the bright sunlight outside.
Blinking, she glanced to and fro, spying a pair of chunky high-backed chairs against a wall a few feet away. She approached one and sat down, concentrating on the list of things she must say to the master of Valeside. The jumble of words in her head resisted marshalling; her mind was filled with the image of Ryan Kavanagh’s majestically brutal appearance while her eyes strayed to study her surroundings. The furniture wasn’t opulent, rather it had a strong earthy grandeur. Heavy ebony trestles and carved chairs were set against the walls and the vast centre space was covered by a huge, many-hued Eastern rug. Then her roaming gaze settled on a portrait on the wall. As though in a trance Faye rose and walked to stand before it, gazing up into a face of exquisite beauty. Ruby’s delicate features were framed by lustrous jet-black hair that draped in soft ringlets to her slender shoulders.
‘Come into the library and sit down.’
‘She’s very beautiful,’ Faye spontaneously blurted out the thought in her head, on whirling about. Quickly she stepped away from the picture, wishing she had returned to her chair just moments sooner rather than be caught gawping at it.
And now she was staring at him. The half-dressed savage of minutes ago had been replaced by a sophisticated gentleman, resplendent in buff breeches and a crisp linen shirt. He had a tailcoat pegged on a finger and as she watched he shrugged into the charcoal-grey garment, straightening his pristine cuffs.
Having opened the door to the library, he indicated that he was waiting for her to pass over the threshold. Faye bit her lip; so it seemed he was not going to acknowledge her comment about his mistress’s loveliness. Perhaps he deemed Ruby too precious to be discussed. Either that or he saw her comment as another lack of manners; a young lady never acknowledged the existence of a gentleman’s mistress. But then she didn’t officially know the nature of their relationship.
‘Here will do very well, sir, thank you,’ Faye said stiffly. ‘It seems private enough as your servants are absent. I cannot tarry, but there are things that I must say to you.’ She perched again on the hallway chair and folded her hands neatly in her lap.
With a mutter that she couldn’t decipher, but that she guessed was Irish blasphemy, he pulled the ornate chair by her side away from the wall and sat facing her. ‘My apologies; I’d offer you tea but the servants have the afternoon off. The housekeeper and the maids are out shopping. The men are in the stable yard. We don’t receive many visitors...’ he added in a rueful tone.
Faye refrained from remarking that if his alleged debauchery didn’t keep callers away a lack of a response to bangs on the door was sure to put people off returning. From the indolent way he lounged back in the chair she guessed that he was his own man and cared little about visitors or what anybody thought of him.
Faye took off her bonnet, but resisted waving the brim at her pink cheeks to cool them even though a burning blue gaze was increasing the warmth in her complexion.
‘The mark on your cheek is almost gone; you look remarkably well after your accident.’
‘I am well, sir, thank you, and you also look well now.’ Faye wished that she’d considered her reply more carefully before uttering it and making that look appear in his eyes. She glanced away, blushing.
Ryan dipped his head in acceptance of her compliment, subduing his smile. She was aware of the nature of his interest in her. He’d hoped to see her, but now she was here he wasn’t sure how to proceed and that in itself was unusual. Without conceit he knew that the women he desired were usually more than happy to know he wanted them and respond to his overtures. He was generous in bed and out of it. Apart from with his time and his affection. That he reserved for Ruby. But something about Miss Shawcross made him feel that could change...if she’d just give him a sign that her absent fiancé wasn’t a stumbling block to them getting closer. He noticed she was fidgeting as though she might get up. He didn’t want her leaving too soon.
‘I was breaking in a stallion.’ He broke the silence and settled a foot encased in highly polished leather on his knee, resting his fist upon the boot. ‘Handsome creature, spirited as the devil, though, and strong as a lion. We had quite a tussle.’
‘I see,’ Faye said, pondering on his explanation for his dishevelment earlier. As a child of about eight she’d watched her father and a groom training a wild horse. It had been a fascinating battle between man and beast. She didn’t recall either man having been shirtless and shoeless, but it had been a long time ago and it probably hadn’t been in high summer. ‘And who won the fight?’
‘Neither of us yet...but I think he’ll let me ride him tomorrow.’
So he was confident of victory. She wondered if he’d deliberately praised the stallion in terms easily applicable to himself. He didn’t seem vain, but he obviously knew he was very good looking. Even Mrs Gideon had set aside her prejudice long enough to grudgingly admit he was a fine figure of a fellow.
‘I’m sorry to call unannounced...thank you for helping us.’ Having rattled that off, she took a deep breath, determined to express the rest of what she had to say more slowly and eloquently. ‘I expect you can guess why I am here, Mr Kavanagh.’
The foot propped on his knee was returned to the floor. ‘So, Miss Shawcross, if we are done with small talk, let’s indeed get down to business. I take it your sister has told you that she put up a fight to stay with her gypsy.’
‘I do know she was cross to be brought back,’ Faye replied. ‘Did she...hit you, sir?’ She hoped that wasn’t the case. Claire had enough black marks against her character as it was without adding to the list an assault on the master of Valeside.
‘My shins took the worst of it,’ he said with a glimmer of humour. ‘What I meant by my remark was that you should know your sister went with him of her own free will. She wasn’t forced.’
Faye nodded and a flush spread on her cheeks. Whatever the truth of what had gone on between her sister and Donagh Lee, she knew it had not been a callous seduction. ‘Claire gave her friend a note to deliver, telling me not to worry about her going off with the Lees.’ She gestured the futility of such reassurance being of benefit.
‘I take it you didn’t get
the letter.’
‘Claire believes Peggy kept it because she was jealous and wanted to get her into trouble. She said all the girls want Donagh.’ Before she could stop herself her eyes flitted to the portrait on the wall.
‘Are you wanting me to tell you who she is?’
The question was coolly blatant and Faye jerked her wide green eyes to his. She’d made her interest in his concubine far too evident. ‘There’s no need for you to do so, sir,’ she managed to say levelly. ‘Claire told me that you also brought a young woman called Ruby back from the gypsy camp.’ Faye looked deliberately at the painting. ‘Any more than that is none of my business.’
‘Is it not?’ he enquired drily. ‘I thought as we are getting to know one another we might commiserate on relatives being a bother to us.’
‘Relatives?’ Faye murmured after a shocked silence in which she digested what he’d said.
‘Who did you think she was?’ The blue of his eyes was barely visible between close black lashes as he waited for her answer.
Faye blushed at the implication she’d too easily believed ill of him. ‘If you wish me to confirm that I have heard the talk about you, sir, then I will do so. And if you know the rumours for slander, then I urge you to broadcast the truth or stop flaunting your relative.’ Her eyes again returned to the portrait. ‘If she is your sister, it is very bad of you to allow gossips to harm her by speculating otherwise.’
There was indeed a resemblance, Faye realised, gazing at the girl’s raven’s-wing hair, but her eyes were the colour of amber, not sapphires. If they were siblings, then she imagined Ruby to be a great deal younger than her brother. It seemed he wasn’t about to confirm or deny her guess at their relationship. He stood up abruptly and strode away from her. Unsure whether he’d dismissed her, Faye stood up, too, and with rapid steps headed for the exit.
‘I don’t flaunt her; she nags to go out.’ He swung about. ‘You believed Ruby was my paramour, young as she is.’ He gave a humourless grunt. ‘You don’t like me, do you, Miss Shawcross?’
‘I don’t know you, sir,’ Faye objected, halting a few feet away from him. He stood between her and the door and she wished he did not. ‘We’ve only met a few times. I’ve no true idea of your character or...habits.’
He smiled sardonically at the ceiling rather than at her. ‘My habits run to women considerably older than Ruby or your sister.’
Faye knew they were both thinking of the time she’d told him she was considerably older than Claire.
‘I’d say you’re about twenty-five,’ he said softly, a sideways glance leisurely travelling from the top of her glossy blonde head to her sturdily shod small feet.
‘You said before you believed me twenty.’ Faye was unable to stop that escaping, feeling as she did oddly irked that he’d discovered her true age.
‘Looks can be deceiving. You’re no green girl, that’s for sure.’ His lips quirked cynically. ‘Rest assured, Miss Shawcross, my wicked desire for diversion is well served elsewhere, far from Wilverton.’
‘I’m sure the locals will be relieved to know it, sir...if they don’t already,’ Faye retorted, her cheeks scarlet. How dare he bring his paramours to her attention!
‘Do you count yourself amongst them?’
‘I was born and bred in the area,’ she answered stiltedly, noting his amusement at her evasiveness. She quickly changed the subject. ‘And now I must return home.’ She’d ceded the verbal duel, accepting Kavanagh was far more adept at the game. ‘My sister seems to be coming to her senses now, but if Donagh came back the silly girl might be persuaded to go with him again,’ she added solemnly. ‘I need to keep a close eye on her.’ She donned her bonnet, emphasising her intention to leave.
‘The Lees won’t bother you.’
‘How can you be so sure? Claire told me that Donagh wanted to marry her.’
‘He said that he did...’
‘You believe him fickle?’ Faye had picked up the hint of derision in his voice.
‘I believe he is a young man of seventeen with a roving eye...so he is probably no better or worse than any youth of that age.’
‘Even a youth of that age should know not to lead on an impressionable girl,’ Faye snapped.
‘Indeed...but we’re only human and sometimes we don’t always act as we should.’
Was he talking about the male sex in general or was there something more personal in his comment? Faye wondered. If he was trying to excuse his own reputed rakish behaviour, carrying on with two paramours at the same time, it was a poor attempt to justify himself. But Faye dithered too long trying to think of a way of following up his comment.
‘On the whole the Romanies are honourable people,’ Ryan continued. ‘Bill Lee has accepted the marriage won’t be. If Donagh should ever turn up and make a nuisance of himself, you’ve only to mention my name.’
‘Which name do they know you by?’ Faye asked quite seriously, recalling the tiger telling her that Kavanagh used different titles depending on who he was with.
She saw that he hadn’t expected her to know that about him. It was unclear from his abruptly shuttered expression whether the fact that she did annoyed him.
‘I wasn’t prying, it’s just that your servant said...’ Her voice tailed off; she hoped she’d not got the young tiger into trouble. ‘I hope you are right and the episode is far behind us. It might be possible to hush such a thing up just the once, doing so again would be very doubtful. Thank you very much for bringing Claire back.’
Faye produced from her pocket her sovereigns, thrusting them his way. ‘Claire told me about the ransom. I hope that will cover the cost of her release. I must pass on her apology and add it to mine; we deeply regret putting you to such trouble, Mr Kavanagh.’
‘There’s no need for that.’ He barely glanced at her money. ‘I would have paid them to go whether or not your sister had become involved.’ He paused as though debating whether to continue. ‘Claire might have regained her senses, but Ruby seems still infatuated with Donagh. I want him away from her until we return to Ireland.’
‘You’re going away so soon?’ The idea that the wicked master of Valeside was off abroad might please Mr and Mrs Gideon, but for Faye the news both surprised and saddened her.
‘I have family to see and business to attend to.’ He moved closer, angling his head to read her lowered expression. ‘You sounded as though you might miss me, Miss Shawcross.’
Faye’s small teeth sank into her bottom lip and she allowed the brim of her bonnet to shield her eyes from his astute gaze.
He tilted up her chin with a firm finger. ‘You will miss me, I see...’ A hint of satisfaction strengthened his mockery. So, fiancé or no, she was swayed to like him rather than just feel grateful.
Jerking her face free, Faye stepped back. ‘I can’t deny you have been a help to me, sir, in time of great need.’
‘But you’d like to, is that what you mean? Honesty and manners are all that brought you here today?’
‘I’d like to think I possess those traits, Mr Kavanagh,’ Faye said, meeting his eyes squarely.
‘I’d say there’s more to it than that,’ he drawled, his gaze caressing her face before leisurely travelling over her rigidly held petite figure.
Faye burned beneath those sultry blue eyes, as though she might have been naked instead of sensibly dressed in outdoor clothes. ‘It is good of you to say you will bear the cost of sending the Lees on their way. Still, I should like to make a contribution as we have both benefited from what you did.’ Quickly she again offered him her cash.
‘Put your money away,’ he said gently. ‘I’m better positioned to bear the cost.’
So he did know of her losses! She gave the sovereigns in her hand a little shake to make him take them, tilting her head defiantly. But he’d started pacing to and fro
, hands thrust into his pockets while frowning into middle distance.
‘Are you not worried of being lonely at Mulberry House on your own?’
His query prompted Faye to whip around close to the front door. ‘I’m not on my own, sir, far from it. I have my brother and sister and my servants with me.’
‘Your brother will return to school, your servants will retire and your sister will find a husband.’
‘And so will I marry,’ Faye said sharply. ‘As you have made it your business to find out so much about me, I’m sure you know I’m betrothed to Mr Collins.’
‘And have been for many years,’ Ryan said drily. ‘Your Mr Collins is a foolish man...or perhaps it suits you to keep things the way they are.’
‘What do you mean by that?’ Faye demanded.
‘Does he willingly tolerate the situation? If I were Mr Collins, I would have wanted my wife by now.’
‘But you are not he, are you, Mr Kavanagh?’ Faye retorted hoarsely. The tension in the atmosphere was unbearable. Faye wanted to burst outside to breathe. She had only to take a few more paces towards the half-open door and she would feel the soft summer air on her skin.
Yet the thrill fizzing in her veins had a strangely narcotic effect on her, keeping her subdued. She was betraying Peter staying a moment longer with the master of Valeside when what occupied her mind was whether Kavanagh’s sarcastic mouth softened when he kissed a woman...
Ryan stalked her with predatory steps, leaning across her to shove the door shut with two flat palms, entrapping her between his arms.
The door reverberated into the frame and when the tremors had faded away he spoke.
‘I lied to you earlier.’
‘What?’ Faye glanced over a shoulder at him before facing him very slowly. No more than a few inches separated their bodies.
