by Janet Woods
Ryder had dropped the picnic basket and began to run. Adele nearly collapsed from relief when he reached her and said, ‘I heard a shot.’
‘Yes … the ball hit the cart, I think.’
‘Thank God it didn’t hit you. You’re trembling.’
He walked round the cart, found a hole and stuck his finger in it. ‘The ball’s still in it and I can smell the spent powder. At a guess I’d say this was a rifle shot, and fired from a fairly close range.’
She wasn’t interested in the logistics, she was thinking of the pain in the animal’s eyes … the accusation. She remembered the voice. ‘I thought I heard someone speak.’
‘Saying?’
Adele couldn’t bring herself to tell him she’d killed a man. Such an event would invite notoriety, the scandal would ruin them all – herself, her aunts, Sarah and even Ryder, by association.
‘I didn’t quite catch the words, it was more like a noise and it may have been my imagination. At the same time the deer crossed the road. Something startled it and it was injured, I think, for it was limping badly and there was blood on its leg.’
The voice had been human, filled with malice. She shivered. She had told nobody about the nature of Edgar Pelham’s death. She’d been interviewed by the ship’s agent for an hour in a gruelling manner and kept waiting while he wrote a report for her to sign. It was during that time that their luggage had disappeared.
Ryder took a pistol from under his coat and primed it. ‘Stay here behind the cart and keep your head down … I’ll go and look.’
She laid her hand on his arm. ‘Be careful, Ryder.’
His free hand covered hers and his blue eyes turned her way. ‘You almost sound as if you care.’ He smiled to take the sting from his words and disappeared into the undergrowth on silent feet.
Apart from an occasional rustle of leaves, the trickling run of the water in the stream and some birdsong, all was quiet.
Adele’s back ached from her crouched position and she couldn’t help but gradually straighten up to ease it.
Immediately another shot clipped a branch above her and she was showered in leaves and twigs. She ducked as a pigeon flew off on a whirring pair of wings, leaving a feather floating in its wake.
There were several curses then a violent rustle of foliage, as though a small gale was passing through it. Adele jumped when a man almost fell out of the bushes. He was kept upright by a strong hand fisted at the neck of his coat that jerked him forward.
Almost petrified she gave a scratchy little scream. It was Luke Ashburn, and he had a rifle over his arm with a wisp of blue smoke twisting from the barrel.
More telling was the pistol held against his head, as steady as a rock and twice as deadly. Softly, Ryder said, ‘Drop your weapon, and any other weapon you may have about you.’
After a moment’s hesitation the man complied and a pistol and hunting knife followed the rifle into the dust. Ryder stepped in front of her, shielding her with his body while still keeping the pistol trained on the intruder. ‘What the devil are you up to, Ashburn? You could have killed us.’
‘If I had it would have been unintentional. I’m sorry, my lord … I was after a deer. Somebody had set a trap on my land and the deer was caught in it. I should have killed the creature before freeing it, since it was more active than I expected.’
‘You’re on my land.’
‘Unfortunately, deer travel and are no respecters of boundaries.’
‘Why should I believe you are doing anything other than poaching?’
Ashburn’s voice took on some heat. ‘You may believe what you wish, but I’d prefer not to be called a liar without good cause.’
‘There was more than one shot.’
‘Actually, my lord, that second shot was meant for a pigeon. As far as I’m aware you don’t own those. It will not happen again.’
Ashburn was being argumentative, and Ryder was curt as he glanced at something metallic in his hand before slipping it into his waistcoat pocket.
‘You only just missed Mrs Pelham.’
An exasperated sigh left Ashburn’s mouth. ‘Would you kindly point that damned pistol somewhere else. It’s making me nervous, and I doubt if you’d kill me over a pigeon.’
‘There’s always a first time. I’m considering whether to have you charged with trespass and poaching.’
When Ryder disabled his weapon Ashburn nodded her way. ‘Please accept my sincere apology, Mrs Pelham. I do hope I didn’t give you too much of a fright. Perhaps you should hang a bell on your cart to warn people of your presence.’
‘And perhaps you should hang one on your tongue for the same purpose, Mr Ashburn, for it strikes me you have too much to say for yourself.’ Her glance went to Ryder. ‘As the only witness to this affair, may I speak in Mr Ashburn’s defence, my lord?’
Ashburn’s eyes widened and Ryder looked pained. ‘If you must.’
‘Believe me, it’s reluctantly. Notwithstanding that Mr Ashburn is on your land, both deer and bird have escaped from the fate he had in store for them, so they can no longer act as witnesses. I can state with some certainty that an injured deer did cross my path and a bird flew off in a flurry of feathers. Wouldn’t it be a good idea to hunt down the wounded deer and put it out of its misery? It couldn’t have gone very far since one of its back legs was badly injured.’
‘Exactly what I was about to suggest,’ Ryder said smoothly. ‘Due to Mrs Pelham’s intervention, and I will confess that she is more tender-hearted than I am, Mr Ashburn, I will allow you to finish your hunt on my land for humane purposes … and a hindquarter of venison for my smokehouse, of course.’
A grin stretched about Ashburn’s mouth and for a moment there was something about him that was elusively familiar – though it was not related to Mary Bryson. ‘Of course, my lord, the remainder will go to the workhouse. Thank you, Mrs Pelham, for your wise counsel on my behalf and for pointing out the obvious.’
‘You should learn to shoot more accurately.’
‘I will keep that in mind.’
She hurled at him, ‘Oh for goodness’ sake, having a conversation with you is like conversing with a jar of pickled hedgehogs. You’ve got more answers than there are questions. Believe me, I am grateful. Now … please be quiet and allow me the last word.’
He opened his mouth, then closed it again and inclined his head, to say a few moments later, and with some surprise in his voice, ‘The last word is yours then, Mrs Pelham … good day to you both.’
A huff of laughter came from Ryder as Ashburn picked up his weapons and turned to walk away. He stopped Ashburn in his tracks with, ‘You might have finished but I haven’t. Stay a moment. You have a large sense of self-esteem for a man with only five acres to his name.’
‘More if you include the Duck Pond Cottage acreage,’ Ashburn said.
‘I don’t, but the matter is under scrutiny, I believe. Join me for breakfast in the morning. Ten o’clock sharp. We will discuss your terms of employment if you are still in a mind to manage my estate and we will inspect your fields. If you’re to work for me you must learn some respect so I’ll expect to see a marked improvement in both your attitude and manners.’
Ashburn turned, his eyes sharpening. ‘Am I to understand you’re offering me the position I applied for?’
‘That’s right.’
‘I’d heard that the soldier had been engaged, my lord.’
‘From whom did you hear that?’
Ashburn shrugged. ‘My aunt.’
‘Ah … that accounts for it, then. Mrs Bryson seems to have her ear held against every keyhole in the district.
Adele wanted to cringe when the glance Ashburn gave her became speculative. She turned towards Ryder, who winked, so she wanted to kick him. He was giving the wrong impression to the man, and doing it deliberately.
‘There’s always some tittle-tattle going on, and like most gossips, my aunt repeats only what she hears from others and sees with her own eyes.’
‘There is no need to make excuses for her. On this occasion she is right. Out of friendship I did feel obliged to offer the position to Mr Stover. He’s thought it over and has declined. He suggested you were better qualified for the position.’
‘I should thank him for the endorsement.’
‘Except he’s left the district for a while … I’m surprised your aunt didn’t notice.’
Ashburn grinned. ‘She did … she said he was laid low with the gripe.’
Ryder managed to keep a grave expression on his face. ‘Hal would thank you for relieving him of the obligation to accept the position. As he pointed out, friendship doesn’t transfer easily into paid duty, where loyalty comes with natural barriers of respect towards the employer already set in place. Besides, the sergeant is a lawyer by trade. He doesn’t know one end of a sheep from another. However, he came with the certainty of trust and loyalty attached, and that counts for a lot with me.’
Ashburn nodded. ‘I hear you, my lord.’
Adele made an effort to stifle her laughter. Goodness, Ryder was certainly putting this man in his place. She felt sorry for Ashburn, until she recalled that the shots that could so easily have killed her. And against her will she remembered the whispered name.
‘Edgar Pelham.’
It seemed so long ago that her life had been sent off course, when a housemaid had handed her a slip of paper delivered by a child. Adele shuddered. The note had supposedly been from Ryder that night of their parting. The writing had been faint, and hard to read, even in the moonlight.
Meet me on the bridge at midnight, Adele, my love.
She should have known it wasn’t from him, for he’d called her Del since childhood.
Thinking it was an adventure, for Ryder had often planned little amusements and escapades and the moon had been full and romantic that night, she’d thrown caution to the winds. After all, they had been intimate before, so what was the harm when they were to be married the next day?
Edgar Pelham had been there alone and he was drunk. He’d told her that Ryder was entertaining himself with his mistress, a woman skilled in the ways of love. Edgar had laid hands on her that were much too intimate, and then … when there was no more strength left in her to fight him off, he’d attempted the worst violation. But he’d failed and had fouled the air with a curse before he’d hit her.
To make matters worse her father had seen her slip from the house and had followed her, but it was too late. He hadn’t believed her faltering explanation, and in her innocence and embarrassment she hadn’t the experience to communicate. She’d been allowed to pack a bag and he’d cast her out.
‘If it’s her legacy you’re after you can wait until she’s of age,’ he’d said to Edgar, which now reinforced the notion that Duck Pond Cottage, and the land it stood on, was indeed her legacy. She hadn’t heard news of her father since, until death had claimed him.
Now she had come of age, but no debutantes’ ball for her. Edgar – cold-blooded, calculating Edgar who never forgot anything that would bring him monetary advantage – had decided to bring her home so she could collect it. And her life had changed course, once again.
She was jerked into the present by Ryder’s voice.
‘You may go now, Mr Ashburn. Be more careful from now on.’
‘Yes, my lord, I’ll bring you your portion of venison tomorrow. Good day, Mrs Pelham.’ He touched his hat and strode off with a spring to his step and whistling a tune.
They looked at each other and smiled, then Ryder said, ‘I’d better go and rescue our picnic basket from the ants.’
Now the drama was over Adele felt her energy drain from her and her hands began to shake. ‘I’m not hungry. Perhaps you could take me home.’
Two strides brought him within arm’s length. Drawing a small flask from his hip pocket he tipped a little into the lid and handed it to her. ‘Drink.’
‘What is it?’
‘Medicinal brandy; toss it down.’
‘You’ve got a remedy for everything, and it’s the same one.’ She drank it down anyway.
The liquor was strong and she swooped in a breath as it hit her insides like a hot coal. ‘Come here,’ he said, and he drew her against him. Tightening his arms when she struggled he pulled her head to rest gently on his shoulder. ‘Stop treating me like a criminal and relax for a minute or two until you stop shaking. You’ll soon feel better.’
And that was a problem. Here in his arms, his breath a warm caress against her forehead, she felt safe … but she knew the feeling wouldn’t last. How could it?
‘What do you make of Luke Ashburn, Del?’ Ryder said after a while, and he twisted a ringlet round his finger and watched it spring back to its place. He seemed preoccupied by the action.
‘He’s self-opinionated.’
There was a moment or two of reflective silence. ‘It seems to me that Ashburn has the need to prove himself, if not to others, then to himself. I can handle that. Anything else?’
‘No, except …’ She hesitated and looked up at him. ‘Something is odd. We grew up here but I can’t remember him and I’ve never heard his name mentioned before. Have you?’
‘There’s a lot I don’t remember from childhood and Luke Ashburn intrigues me. I feel as if I should know him.’ He dropped a kiss on her mouth, casual yet possessive in its claim, dismissing Ashburn with, ‘Perhaps he attended the same university.’
‘Curious then, that he suddenly appeared when we were absent from the district.’
‘Yes … Did you miss me when we were apart, Del?’
He’d changed tack swiftly and his voice was so sympathetic she was caught unaware. ‘Every minute of every day, and when I read that you’d died I wanted to do the same. He … Edgar Pelham taunted me about it. If it hadn’t been for Sarah—’
She clapped a hand across her mouth. She’d nearly told him about the beating – the one that had killed Ryder’s child. Edgar had been drunk and in a foul mood. He’d set about her in such a cold-blooded fashion. Sarah had been a child then and when Sarah had intervened Edgar had thrown her against a wall. The pair of them had fled from the house and had crept into the bushes to lick their wounds. There, sheltered by a bush on some waste ground, Ryder’s child, a casualty of the violence, had slipped from her. He’d resembled a little wax doll, and she and Sarah had buried his tiny body and said a prayer over him.
Losing Ryder’s child, especially in such a cruel, deliberate manner, had almost broken Adele’s spirit. As for Sarah, she’d respected her father until then, but his cruelty had changed that relationship into a fearful one on her part, though it had served to bring Adele and Sarah closer together.
Adele gazed at him, annoyed that she’d allowed him to coax her into talking about her time with Edgar … something she didn’t want to remember. ‘Damn you, Ryder.’
‘I was damned the moment you left me at the altar. You ruined my present, and trampled on my plans for my future, as though I had no feelings and they meant nothing.’
‘You should despise me.’
He turned, his smile slow and twisted, so it didn’t quite reach his blue eyes, which observed her as though she was something that crawled in the mud. ‘What makes you think I don’t?’
Her heart sank. ‘So why …?’
Picking up her hand he kissed her palm. ‘I want revenge. I want things to be as they were between us and for you to love me all over again, my Del, but I will never get that … and then …’
‘Then?’ she said with some sort of dread.
‘I’ll deal with you as you dealt with me … as though I was nothing to you.’
‘You were never that.’
‘I felt as though I was.’ His conversation changed direction. ‘But let’s not argue, when we were getting on so well. I’ll race you to the picnic basket, the winner gets a kiss.’
‘What does the loser get?’
He grinned. ‘I’ll give you one guess.’
She didn’t fe
el like playing games. ‘I’m not hungry and I want to go home.’
‘You’re just jittery, but I’ll take you home if that’s what you want.’
She nodded. He helped her into the cart and turned them round, stopping to pick up the basket when they reached the bend in the road.
He placed it in the cart, and then climbed up to sit next to her. Taking her face in his hands he kissed her tenderly and thoroughly, and she didn’t protest.
‘I thought you’d played enough games.’
‘The kiss wasn’t a game. It was the start of your punishment.’
Her thigh pressed intimately against his as they moved on and the air seemed to whisper and weave around them like thousands of threads being drawn into a cocoon of silk.
Sweet punishment indeed! She placed her head against his shoulder and sighed. ‘You’ve never been vindictive, Ryder.’
His smile spread like butter and he leaned in to nip the lobe of her ear. ‘There’s always a first time.’
Eight
When they arrived back at Duck Pond Cottage, Adele’s aunts came out to admire the new rig and make a fuss of Daisy.
‘What a dear creature,’ Patience said to Prudence.
‘The ass or the earl?’
The sisters exchanged a laugh.
Ryder managed to smile, though he didn’t feel much like smiling and his reply was almost automatic. ‘Whichever beast you favour, you flatter me, ladies.’
He was thinking that his copse had been a busy place today. Walking on his land and taking a couple of rabbits, or even a trout from his stream, he could tolerate. But when those same people stole commercial quantities or took pot shots that placed the lives of others at risk he must put a stop to it.
To give Ashburn his due, the shot had been accidental. But someone had fired the first shot, and for whom had it been meant? Adele seemed the most obvious target from the position of the shot – but why?
Ryder realized it was his own fault for neglecting his responsibilities. Instead of running away from home like a whimpering puppy to join the army, he should have killed Edgar Pelham and taken Adele back. Nobody would have blamed him … except Adele, perhaps.
