With the babies out of reach, the major need for caution was gone, and Eileen sagged against the windowsill. Drake had to whistle again to catch her attention.
“How many are there?” His whisper carried on the night breeze.
Strange, even now she understood him without questioning. She held up her fingers to indicate two. Her son was safe; nothing else mattered. Her eyelids drooped, but there was still one more message to pass on.
“Go in the rear,” she whispered, before collapsing in the arms of the sturdy nursemaid.
“Eileen!” Drake’s quiet cry brought more of the “gypsies” from the bushes, but the lady had disappeared from view.
The frightened maid reappeared in the window. “She said to go in the rear,” she called out. “Hurry, I cannot wake her.”
Drake needed no further urging. Sword drawn, he signaled the band of friends, relatives, tenants, and even a few real gypsies to surround the lodge. It had not been difficult to trace Edmund’s driver to this neighborhood, and the discovery of the gypsies had been pure luck. They knew everything that went on in the area surrounding their encampment and had been persuaded to part with the information for relatively few coins. Undoubtedly they joined in the fray in hopes of further reward, but Drake had no quarrel with that. He only wanted Eileen in his arms again.
Drake kicked open the rear door and entered, his men crowding behind him. The lamp wick on the table had almost extinguished itself, but there was sufficient light for the startled driver to wake and see their grim expressions. Groggily he tried to stand and back away, but Drake had no patience. He shoved the servant into the hands of the man behind him and strode to the next room. In the confusion the hired guard’s pistol fell to the floor and there was a hasty scuffle to recover it. Someone knocked over the lamp, spilling the oil, but another was quickly lit. Drake continued onward, knowing he had no chance of surprise at this point.
He hurled a curse after his cousin as he saw Edmund fleeing upstairs, where he presumably held the hostages who would protect him. The remainder of the search party followed his voice and boiled into the front room, but only a few could fit on the narrow steps. The others stayed behind to bind the driver and put out the fire kindling in the spilled lamp oil.
Edmund crashed through the door of an upper chamber and swore in wrath. In the time it took Drake to ascend the stairs, his cousin dived like a berserker at the third door in the upper hall but couldn’t open it. Swinging his blunderbuss, Drake cracked it against the back of Edmund’s skull with a fury that would not be satisfied until he found Eileen safe.
Edmund never knew what hit him. He sprawled across the uncarpeted floor.
The maid inside screamed in dismay as Drake rammed past their weak barricade. Drake stepped over his senseless cousin as he discovered his wife’s lifeless form upon the bed inside. In two strides he crossed the room and hauled her into his arms..
“Go to the children,” he told the terrified nursemaid. “Have someone send a physician, quickly.”
Eileen was no weight at all in his arms, and he could not feel her breathing. Panic replaced rationality.
The men in the hallway escorted the maid from the room, creating a path for Drake and his frail burden. The need for revenge had disappeared with the pure terror of uncertainty. Drake left Edmund’s unconscious body behind without a second thought.
Michael met him as he stepped into the freshness of the cold night air. His anxious gaze dropped to Eileen’s lifeless figure. “Is she. . . ?” He couldn’t say the words.
“I don’t know.” That simple phrase broke in an anguished cry from the heart. Drake followed his men and the maid carrying the infants toward the warmth and protection of the gypsy encampment.
Michael’s urgent shout halted his progress. He turned and watched a flame lick the roof beside the lodge chimney. For the first time he noticed the odor of burning wood.
He’d left Edmund in there.
Even as he watched, a wall of fire roared upward. Brave soldier that he was, Michael broke into a run toward the flames. Drake shouted at him to halt. The band of men milling in the yard caught Michael before he could try a futile rescue. They all backed away from the conflagration. The old wood in the deserted lodge caught like kindling, sending showers of sparks across the roof and lawn.
Appalled, Drake’s friends returned to his side, turning him around, pushing him toward the dark grove of trees ahead.
Even those who knew a man lay in the upstairs room said nothing as they retreated from the blaze. Edmund Neville died in a hell of his own creation.
Chapter 32
The patter of spring rain on the wooden roof stirred Eileen from her slumber. The scent of wood smoke and bacon frying awakened memories of a cozy kitchen and warmth, and she snuggled deeper into the stack of comforters. It was raining. She did not need to go out today.
Sunlight poured in the room’s only window when next she woke. Physical discomfort forced her to rise. She pushed at the comforters before realizing she had no idea where she was. She had been dreaming of Dulcie and the village, but Dulcie did not have these luxurious covers on her bed.
Eileen stretched and opened her eyes. The bed at Sherburne had been larger than this room. Puzzled, she studied the planked ceiling, then the brightly painted walls with their odd ornamentations. A table and chair sat at the far end, and a blanket roll lay upon the floor beside her. She rose up on her elbow to take a better look.
The comforter fell from her shoulders, exposing her arms to the chill of the room. She realized she wore nothing but her chemise, and she searched for her clothing. Where was she?
A door at the far end opened, and Eileen snatched up the covers.
Drake stepped into the room, his golden hair gleaming in the morning sun, his loose shirt unfastened at the throat and covered only by a woolen jerkin. Whatever he felt he kept hidden.
“The physician said your head may hurt for a while. He left some powders on the table. Shall I bring you some water?”
The first wave of relief faltered at Drake’s noncommittal tone. Eileen held the covers tighter to keep from shivering. “I need my clothes,” she replied, testing her uncertain tongue.
“These will be more comfortable.” Drake indicated a stack of folded clothes on the chair. “We will not be seeing anyone, so you need not worry how you look. I’ll be back with your breakfast.”
Was she mistaken, or was there some hesitation in his glance, in his movement, before he turned to depart? She understood none of this. What had she done to cause this icy gap of formality between them? What had happened? The brief flickering memories of that last terrifying night shocked her out of bed. Richard! Where was Richard? Eileen raced to the door.
Outside, Drake crouched beside a fire. He looked up, startled, as she flew out the wagon door.
“Richard? Where is Richard?” she cried, fully awake and utterly terrified.
Drake stood and caught her by the shoulders. “He’s safe. Don’t worry. Go back inside and dress before you catch a chill.”
When she hesitated, searching his face for truth, he swung her up in his arms and carried her to the wagon. “He is safe. I promise.” Then he closed the door and left her alone.
Eileen shivered, cold to the bone though she still felt the heat of Drake’s fingers. For one brief moment he had held her, but it was as if he had been holding a stranger. She did not understand, but suddenly she was very, very frightened.
She found the woolen clothes neatly pressed and waiting for her. She did not recognize them, but the full skirt of heavy chocolate-brown wool wrapped warmly about her legs. The thick satin shirt of gold was chilly against her skin, yet the green knitted vest that went over it kept out the draft. She pulled on woolen stockings to warm her legs and considered the forest-green cloak, but decided against it. The sun had been shining and the wind had more of spring in it than winter.
She looked around for a mirror, finding a small shaving glass over the washbowl
. She inspected her face, discovering her eyes looked feverish but clear and the dark circles of illness had completely gone. She felt stronger than she had in months, but her breasts ached for her son and daughter. Why had Drake brought her here?
Eileen pulled her long hair behind her ears and knotted it in bright red scarf she found flung beside the washbowl. The color made her face look pale, and she pinched her cheeks. Seldom had she given thought to her appearance, but Drake’s strange behavior made her desperate. Perhaps she had grown ugly to him.
The possibility that the fire between them had died caused irrational panic. It had been so terribly long since she had shared his bed. . . What if he had found someone else while he was in London? Some aristocratic lady that better suited his tastes and needs? And here she was, looking like the gypsy she truly was, and her heart sank to her knees. She could never win him back like this.
She had blithely accepted their separations before, knowing she had no claim on Drake, that each moment with him was a moment stolen from fate. But his words, his promises, this ring on her finger—Eileen raised her hand to be certain she had not dreamed it—had bolstered her confidence. She had begun to believe that the fairy tale could come true, that Drake would always be there, and she would have a home and a love of her own at last. Had she been so wrong?
She fought off tears. She would not let him see her terror. Let him think that she was strong, invincible. She would not be one of those weak, helpless creatures who could not exist without a man. She was her own person and could stand on her own. But heaven help her, she did not want to any longer. She stepped outside and headed for the woods.
When she returned from relieving herself, Drake handed her a plate with well-done bacon, toast, and an egg that had absorbed the black grease of the pan. Too ravenous to care, she drank thirstily of the strong tea offered, then tackled her food.
They sat side by side on a blanket Drake had spread on the ground. Eileen concentrated on her food, trying to ignore the man staring into the fire. It was a difficult task. His greater size protected her from the stinging edge of the wind, allowing her to bask in the full warmth of the sun. The sunlight glistened along the hairs on his arm, the only part of him she could see without raising her eyes. The gold ring glittering on his finger was the one she had worn for so many months. His fingers were long and tanned and hard and appeared amazingly competent as they maneuvered the various pots and pans and lifted the mug of tea. She knew what those fingers could do to her if only. . .
But he seemed to have no interest in so much as touching her. Concealing the growing ache inside, Eileen asked wistfully, “Might I see the twins?”
“Will you mind if it is just us for a few days?” he asked.
The low timbre of his voice melted chords along Eileen’s spine, but his words startled her. Embarrassed when she saw only the coolness of spring skies in his eyes, she looked away.
“I would not mind, but. . .” She hesitated, her embarrassment carrying over to her words, “They are not weaned yet. It is uncomfortable. . .”
Enlightenment dawned, and a smile played upon Drake’s lips at the heightened color in her cheeks. “Then I shall send for Isabel.”
“Why just Isabel?”
Drake leaned back on one elbow. “Because Richard has grown much too demanding, and I would prefer to spend these days with two females. The nurse you chose seems quite competent to handle him.”
She could not match the import of Drake’s words with the lack of expression in his voice. She lifted her eyebrow in inquiry. “Am I to be told why you prefer to entertain us in the midst of wilderness?” She gestured toward the trees crowding the small glade where the wagon rested.
“That’s a long story. I don’t know if I have the words to tell it.” His gaze held hers searchingly.
Her heart skipped a beat, but he seemed so amazingly calm, she could not believe the tale was unpleasant. “Try,” she demanded.
A lazy grin crossed Drake’s face as he lay down and crossed his hands behind his head. “Once upon a time, there was an enchanted princess in a forest. . .”
“Drake!” Eileen protested, beating a fist against his broad chest. “I don’t want fairy tales! Why are we here? Does it have something to do with Edmund?” Remembering the prior night, she fought her horror. “You haven’t killed him, have you?”
Drake’s grin slipped away. He caught her by the waist and pulled her on top of him. “Not that I hadn’t thought of it, but no. His death was accidental. I find I cannot weep for him.”
That was all he told her.
Eileen remained silent, listening to the nuances of Drake’s words and absorbing the warm glow of being close to him again. He was coming to terms with his cousin’s death. She could not weep for the monster either.
Drake did nothing more than hold her, but she could hear the beating of his heart beneath her ear and feel his lungs fill with deep breaths as she curled more comfortably against him. Perhaps she did not leave him quite cold as yet.
“Then why are we here?” she insisted.
In one lithe movement Drake twisted to trap her between the ground and his heavy weight. His gaze swept over her. “Because we have a few things to talk about and you have a few lessons to learn and I can do neither with the incessant interruptions of that madhouse. Do you object greatly?”
Eileen stared up at him uncertainly. She could hear the businesslike marquess speaking, but the light in his eyes had a familiarity she had once known well.
“No,” she answered, and before she could expound upon the subject, he murmured, “Good,” and his lips closed over hers.
Joy pounded through her, spreading to her chest and the tips of her fingers as his kiss deepened and her nails bit into his shoulders. His tongue parting her lips dissolved all barriers, and Eileen pressed closer.
The kiss ended too soon, and she moaned as Drake lifted his weight from her. He caressed her cheek and brushed a strand of hair from her throat. When his fingers rested on her breast, her eyes flew open, and Drake met her gaze frankly.
“I had meant to wait, to make you understand that you are my wife now, that you do not need to do everything yourself, but I cannot talk for wanting you. Tell me you will never run away again, and I will believe anything you say.”
Drake’s voice was hoarse and filled with longing, and Eileen nearly cried with the joy of his words. The promise his hand played upon her breast took her breath away, but she could not tell him what she did not understand.
She covered her hand with his, untying her shirt and slipping his hand inside so that she could feel his warmth against her skin. Her nipple rose against his palm, and she gasped with pleasure as he stroked it.
“Your son and your daughter belong at Sherburne. Why should I run away?”
“You did not wait for me but ran after our son when Edmund came. You ran away when our children were born. You were running from the convent after your uncle found you. You have run away from every home you have ever known, Eileen. How can I make you stay in the one I offer you?”
The plea in Drake’s voice was plain enough, but she could not answer it with words she did not possess. She caressed the vulnerable curve of the lips she loved so well, traced the hard line of the jaw muscle tightening now with his anger and despair. How could she tell him what she knew without words or logic? There were so many things between them they had yet to resolve, so many obstacles to darken their futures, how could she make promises she might never keep?
Instead of promises, she spoke her heart. “I never ran away from anything, Drake. I’ve been running after you for as long as I can remember. Sometimes I have to step ahead of you to make you notice, that is all.”
A smile kindled behind Drake’s eyes as he read the love in eyes no longer mirrored and unfathomable, but deep and warm and welcoming. He kissed her brow, her cheek, the corner of her mouth, and lingered on the lobe of her ear.
“A veritable leprechaun you must be, princess,” h
e murmured, “but I am slowly learning your tricks. Will you mind very much when you are well and truly caught?”
“If you catch a leprechaun, he will lead you to the gold at the end of the rainbow,” Eileen whispered as Drake’s kisses strayed from her ear down her throat.
“It’s not gold but you I want.” He buried his lips in the hollow of her throat and stroked his hand downward from the curve of her breast to the valley of her waist.
Then he raised his head to meet her eyes again, deliberately withholding the contact they both wanted. “I cannot demand all of you, all of the time, Eileen. You’ve been a free spirit for too long, and I would not take that from you. But I want to know that you will be there when I come home to you. I want to know you will share your burdens with me and not try to solve them all yourself. You are my wife now, Eileen; let me be your husband.”
His voice was harsh, his expression both angry and anguished. It had never occurred to Eileen that she could hurt him, but she had. She caressed his face, trying to erase the lines that did not belong there. She would return laughter to his eyes. That would be her wedding gift to him.
“I do not know what you see in me. I have no manners, no breeding, no education. But I love you, I have always loved you, and if that is enough to make you happy, I will never leave.”
Drake knew what she was saying, understood her fears as he had always understood what she did not say. She had spent too many years of uncertainty, too many years as an oddity to be comfortable with the life he wished her to live now. But she was bright and would eventually accept that he had servants to manage the household, tutors to teach the children, and guests that entertained themselves. He needed only her quickness of wit, her deep understanding, and her love. No amount of education or breeding could give him that.
It would take time to build the confidence and trust a marriage needed, but they had the rest of their lives for that. For now, what counted was their love. Drake bent and tasted the sweet willingness of her kiss.
Silver Enchantress Page 31
