He sighed and gentled his kisses to mere pecks. “I’m sorry for yelling at you, Jewel, but I cannot bear to think about anything happening to you.”
She eased away, her eyes wide. “Why?”
He gulped. “Please, let’s not have this conversation now. I just wish to hold you.” He lifted her in his arms and she gasped softly. “I’m going to kiss every inch of your body until I am certain every bloody inch is unmarred.”
She sighed against his lips, helpless against the force that was one Randall Whitton. No longer owning the strength or the will to argue her point, she wrapped her arms around his neck and returned touch for touch, kiss for kiss. “Then what are you waiting for, Captain?”
~ 7 ~
An icy breeze snaked through the rigging of La Obsidiana as she docked in Scarborough on Christmas Eve. After Blythe’s last attack, they’d repaired the damage without docking somewhere and made good time. Jewel clutched Rand’s overcoat closer together to ward off England’s winter chill. The dark material swallowed her amongst its massive folds as she and Rand made their way down the docks towards town.
Snow dusted the ground in soft patches and lingered on the roof’s of quant little shops. Early morning washed the wharves in pink dew, and a hazy mist hung over the port like a shroud, dampening the already chill air.
After a month at sea, Jewel had found her sea legs but more than that, she’d come to love sailing. Of course, her newfound love affair probably had more to do with the handsome sea captain who graced her bed every night rather than any real affection for traveling. The man simply excelled in the art of lovemaking, and heaven knew she enjoyed every blissful second of it.
Every meal taken, every walk on deck, and every conversation oozed with tension. By the time they returned to the cabin each night, they were desperate for each other. And yet, even then his assault was somehow gentle. Urgent, but gentle. She loved that about him.
As the days and then weeks, went by something changed between them and she couldn’t find the strength to regret a single second of it.
She sighed, a fist squeezing her heart in a terrible a vise. Her adventure was nearing an end. Rand clasped her hand and lifted it to his mouth as she gazed back at the ship longingly.
He didn’t say anything but she sensed that he was thinking the same thing. Their time together was almost at an end. He kissed each of her gloved fingers, threading their hands together. Warmth blossomed in her chest despite the chill in the air, and she gave him an attempt at a smile.
They left the crew with the ship, and Rand paid for two mounts before heading for Yorkshire Danby Castle.
A real castle...she had assumed that was just a title of some sort. They arrived late in the evening and surprisingly, the hulking towers inched over the horizon. Lights flickered in the darkness as they rode up the long, curving drive. A thin veil of clouds obscured part of the moon and lent eeriness to the atmosphere.
Her breath dusted the air in puffy clouds as she gazed in wonder at the monstrosity before her. Squat with only two or three stories, the castle grounds were laid out like a grid with massive round towers. Shadows danced across the stones like theatrical faces looming down upon them. They rode beneath the well-lit gatehouse and stopped before the entrance.
Carriages lined the drive in pairs down and around to the side of the building. The courtyard was empty, but for a few footmen standing guard over the fancy vehicles. “There must be some kind of ball, Rand.” She swallowed the nervous tension coiling in her belly as she dismounted. “Perhaps we should wait until tomorrow.”
“The devil I will. Our lives, and your father’s life, hang in the balance. The old man can take five minutes from his dancing to give us some assistance.” He seized her hand and led her up to the front entrance that was flanked by twin towers. Two, long, narrow windows bracketed the heavy, ornately carved door, which Rand swung open without knocking.
A butler stood in the entryway. He barely flinched and then arched a single brow. “Do you have an invitation, sir?”
Jewel scooted around Rand and answered quickly, hoping to avoid any further embarrassment. “I’m very sorry to have interrupted but we must speak with the duke. Is he receiving guests?”
The butler stared at her and crossed his hands behind his back. That blasted eyebrow hadn’t lowered. Jewel suddenly wanted to pluck it from his great forehead. “Please, this is an urgent matter.”
Several people peered inside the entry through the arched doorway. Jewel suddenly became very aware of their manner of dress, or perhaps more so her inappropriate dress. She brushed damp hands across her wrinkled male trousers, pulling the cloak closer around her, and cleared her throat.
“I must ask you both to leave. Any business you have with the duke can wait until the after the holidays. No one is admitted without an invitation.”
Before Jewel could even blink, Rand had the butler pinned against the fancy paneled wall. Several women gasped from the doorway behind their fans. “My name is Randall Whitton. Is that invitation enough? Now I suggest you find the duke and let him know I’m—”
“That will be all, Milne.” Jewel whirled to face the booming voice. A tall, formidable white-haired man dressed in dark, formal evening attire strode into the entryway. “You will release my man, Randall.”
He stared down his nose at them, as Rand released the butler and faced him. “Danby.”
Another gasp elicited from the gathering crowd just beyond the open archway.
“You may address the duke as Your Grace,” Milne said, readjusting his coat.
“Enough.” Danby held up a hand. “Come with me, Randall and bring your...companion.”
Jewel swallowed as he led them to the ducal study and bade both of them to sit. Clicking the door shut behind him, he eased into a leather Trafalgar chair behind a massive mahogany desk. “I am thankful for your safe arrival, but I must protest your abuse of my staff, Randall. Now where is your father?”
“He’s dead.”
Danby’s gaze widened a fraction, and silence filled the room. With a heavy sigh, he eased back into his chair. Pain flickered across his hardened features, and the ducal mask evaporated before their eyes. In the next second the look vanished, replaced again by the cynical stare.
Jewel’s heart ached for the man, and a quick glance to Rand showed a brief lapse of his hardened façade. Perhaps she should leave and let them talk this out. “Please, excuse me,” she whispered.
The duke nodded. “Perhaps it’s for the best.”
Randall’s hand clamped down her knee. “She stays.”
The two men struggled in a silent battle of wills right before her eyes.
“Tell me how he died.” Danby didn’t ask a question; he demanded an answer. Rand’s chest bowed up in response.
“I must know. Please,” Danby said, surprising them both. “When George left, he was but seventeen. Still very young. I had thought...hoped he would return after experiencing how difficult life would be without me. I was as stubborn as he...and just as foolish.”
Rand leapt to his feet, stalking to the opposite side of the room and then back again as he seemed to gather his thoughts. Nervous energy thrummed through the occupants in the study as the tension coiled tighter and tighter.
“You want to know how he died?” Rand’s brows slashed angrily across his forehead and he fisted his hands at his side. “He died a lonely, broken old man.”
Danby sighed and rubbed his temples. “He was stubborn...We both were.”
“He met my mother shortly after arriving in Barbados and married. He attempted to live a proper life when I was young by opening a legitimate shipping business, which failed. And then he opened a merchant’s business, which failed. When my mother grew sick from poverty and lack of proper care, he grew desperate, venturing into the smuggling underworld in order to pay the doctor bills. After her death when I was six, he could no longer live with himself and his failure. His drunken binges and gambling led to a life of c
rime that killed him less than six years later. The entire time he lay dying in my arms after being beaten so badly by the local crime lords, he asked me to return to you and beg his forgiveness.”
Rand’s voice choked on the last words as he whirled away from them. Jewel stood to go to him, but Danby’s voice stopped her.
“I loved him, Randall.” The duke stood and crossed the room, standing directly behind his grandson. “I love all of my children, but George...was so much like me, it frightened me.”
Rand didn’t turn, but a shudder of emotion rippled through him. She wanted to rush into his arms and take away all of his pain. She wanted to curse the duke and life, as pain for that little twelve-year-old boy who lost his mother and watched his father throw away his life clamped over her heart and wouldn’t let go. An ache settled in her chest and squeezed off any air.
Oh, Rand, I had no idea.
“I was a stubborn fool, Randall, but I loved George. More than you can ever know.” Danby aged before her very eyes as despair overtook him. He hesitated and frowned as he fought for words. Witnessing this anguish from both of these strong, stubborn men shredded her heart. She feared she could never replace all the pieces again.
Rand took a deep, steadying breath and faced them. Danby searched his face, and emotion cracked Rand’s hard features. “He loved you, until the very bloody end. He told me you were the most decent, honorable man he’d ever known, and that I should be proud that I turned out just like you.”
Tears streamed down her face as the two of them studied each other like watchful, proud hawks. Danby hesitated and then clamped a hand on Rand’s shoulder. “Your father was a good man, Randall. He was stubborn and born to rebel. What he failed to realize was that I just wanted to help him because I loved him.”
Then the duke seized Randall in a great hug and clapped him on the back heartily. Rand stood still for mere seconds before he choked and returned the embrace. Jewel cried softly and wiped her tears on her sleeve.
They separated and looked at each other. Danby seized his shoulders and shook him gently. “George did a damn fine job raising you, Randall. I’m proud to be your grandfather.”
“Excellent, because I need your help, Danby. I’ve never asked for help before in my life, but I am now.”
Danby stepped away and nodded toward the seat. “Then please, have a seat and tell me how I can be of assistance.” The duke settled back into his leather chair and intertwined his fingers just under his chin. “And Randall, you may call me Grandfather in private, but you will address me as Your Grace outside of this room.”
~ 8 ~
Heavy iron doors loomed over them. Rand rechecked the information for the second time. “It’s the right place.”
A flock of ravens flittered atop the iron bars, dancing across the gates like watchful avengers. Several burst into flight, circled, and then returned to their perch once again.
Stone beasts peered down from their position guarding the entrance to the cemetery like the hounds from hell. Heavy fog clung to the ground in thick clumps; the swirls of vapors undulated and gyrated like a beckoning lover in the dark. A morbid fascination drew Jewel forwards into the gray mists, its lure too tempting to deny. Shadows danced like a nest of teeming snakes, hinting of the secrets within.
“It’s a cemetery,” she said.
“I can see that, Jewel.”
Rand swung open the gates and they creaked, groaning out a warning, whispering of the peril that lay beyond. Fear meandered its way down her throat and into her belly as the silence of the darkness settled heavily over her shoulders. “We shouldn’t be here,” she whispered and clutched Rand’s hand.
“We won’t be long. I just want to find out where Blythe is hiding the weapons. Danby has already sent for his contacts. I just wanted to make sure the weapons are still here. Once I find out, we’ll leave. I promise,” he said and squeezed her hand reassuringly. “We won’t be long.”
All visibility was reduced to just a few feet ahead of them in any direction and it was the lack of sight that worried her the most. Her skin tingled with anticipation, her palms dampened with dread, and she was certain she’d cut off all circulation in Rand’s fingers.
She plastered herself to Rand’s side and followed him step-for-step. Gravestones materialized and disappeared just as quickly into the thickening fog. The scent of freshly turned soil clogged the air as broad, draping willow trees and the bare creeping limbs of dense, old oaks wound their way through the darkness. The night washed away all color and the damp ground sucked away all sound.
Rand stopped before her, and she collided into him. He glanced back at her with a frown. She mouthed, “sorry.” They followed the stone path through a maze of headstones and various sized tombs. “Where would he hide the weapons?” she asked.
“Chiswicke isn’t a very popular name, let’s find it and then we’ll find the weapons, I’ll bet.”
An owl hooted and split the silence. Jewel jumped slightly and clasped Rand’s fingers harder. He glanced back at her smiled and then drew her within his embrace. “You’re afraid.”
She started to deny it, and then changed her mind. “Yes,” she whispered. “It’s dark. We’re in the middle of a cemetery. What’s not to fear?”
He chuckled as his lips grazed her forehead. “I won’t let anything hurt you, Jewel. On that, you have my promise.”
She nodded. She did feel safer in Rand’s arms, but there was something very sinister about being in the cemetery in the middle of the night. Seizing her hand once again, he led her through the brush. Leaves, limbs, and the remaining smattering of snow crackled under their boots. “The cemetery is rather large, Rand. Are we going to be able to search the entire grounds?”
“We’re going to have to. It’s the only way.”
She sighed. “What if he’s moved the weapons? Or what if he gave me the wrong location?”
“We’ll find out soon enough. Now cease the nervous chatter, and come on.”
She clamped her jaw shut and smothered the urge to stick her tongue out him. “We aren’t even supposed to be here. The plan wasn’t supposed to be in effect until Danby’s contacts arrived at the castle.”
“I know. I just have to find out if we’re even wasting our time here.”
She sighed and trudged forward after him. “Men are so bloody impatient.”
Rand chuckled. “Quit your blathering and hurry up.”
“Look, Rand!” Jewel slid to a halt and pointed. “Over there, the stone says Claudia Chiswicke.”
Rand and Jewel made their way toward the six-foot-tall headstone. “Look.” Rand swung in around in all directions. “They all have Chiswicke on them”
Five or six different grave markers bore the Chiswicke name. Jewel sighed. “What now?”
Rand ran a hand over his face and scratched his head. “I’m not sure. We can’t very well dig them all up.”
Jewel gasped. “We can’t dig any of them up, Randall Whitton. That’s ludicrous to even contemplate, not to mention sacrilegious!”
He faced her with a level stare. “What exactly did you think we were going to have to do once you realized this was a cemetery?”
“I-I don’t know actually. I didn’t think that far ahead.”
“Well, I did. And it’s the perfect hiding spot, if you think about it. No one would ever consider looking inside a grave for stolen weapons. It’s rather brilliant, if you ask me.”
“No one asked you.” She grumbled at his logic.
Rand glanced around for a moment and paused. “Wait,” he said as he moved away from her.
Not wanting to be left behind, alone in a graveyard, Jewel scrambled to follow him. “What is it?”
A large tomb materialized out of the gloom before them, its base overgrown with weeds, its walls draped in ivy, and the single name Chiswicke carved over its entrance. “Brilliant.” Rand chuckled. “Why didn’t I think of it sooner?”
He crossed to the small building. Dual granit
e angels draped in folds of stone cloth and smothered in slimy moss fronted the entry, flanked by two lit sconces. Its roof was decorated in engraved marble crosses and outlined with scalloped edging.
Rand climbed the three steps and opened the copper-plated gate which screeched in protest. A shiver slithered down Jewel’s spine. “Rand,” she whispered as he disappeared inside. “Rand!”
The song of the crickets ceased as if nature was waiting in anticipation of the coming events. Dread skimmed across her skin as every hair on her body stood on end. Her heart pounded inside her ears, and terror cut her breath off from her throat. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t breathe but she couldn’t stay out here alone.
Every horrid nightmare she’d ever had flashed through her mind and clamped a vise around her body. Immobile, Jewel’s breath came in great heaving gasps as she waited for some sign, some sound, or some word from Rand. But none came forth.
Fear prompted her forward and she rushed to the opening, afraid that something had happened to him. Darkness encased the room, save one dim glare in the center. Rand knelt before a granite sarcophagus and leaned over it, peering inside.
Jewel’s clutched her hand over her chest, hoping to quell the hammering of her heart, or at least quiet it somewhat. She’d never been so frightened in her life. Taking a timid step forwards she glanced down inside, just as Rand noticed her and seized her hand. “Get back!”
But too late, the three figures at the bottom of the stairwell all whipped around to stare at her.
~ * ~
Rand and Jewel burst from the entrance of the tomb like an explosion and darted across the cemetery, hand in hand. A cold streak of fear jabbed his chest as they zigzagged their way through the headstones. They plunged through barriers of fern and oak limbs into a small grove of trees. The mist thickened here as the shouts in the distance echoed and lingered in the air.
Rand held a finger to his lips for silence, and they crept further into the shadows. Fear bred caution as he listened to the sounds of the night, separating man from beast.
Summons From the Castle, Regency Christmas Summons Collection 3 Page 11
