Destiny of the Heart (Viking Destiny)

by K. Young

  “Then why not go ahead and oust Charlie as you did Tristan? That would surely solve our problem, wouldn't it? I mean, really. You act as if we have a murderer in the family. Charlie likes men, big deal. The world won't come to an end if people know about it.”

  “Remind me why it is you haven't taken a wife? Didn't you just say something about it being hard to find someone willing to marry into this family? That's a bit to do with Charlie, don't you think?”

  Derrick's nostrils flared. "I knew coming here was a mistake. You're completely unreasonable."

  Derrick started for the door, but Scott's commanding tone stopped him.

  "We're not done here, Derrick. Sit down."

  Derrick closed his eyes and counted to ten. He was close to losing his cool with his brother. And, brother or not, you didn't lose your cool with the duke. Once he was sure he had his temper under control, he turned around and took a seat across from Scott.

  "First of all, there will be no more talk of ousting anyone from the family. Tristan's situation was unique, and given the circumstances, the best thing for him."

  Derrick ground his teeth to keep from spitting out a retort to that bit of nonsense. He'd always resented Scott for sending Tristan away, but worse, for not telling any of them the reason why. Something had happened, but neither Scott nor Tristan would talk about it, and the bitterness only got worse anytime it was brought up,. Still, Derrick refused to give into the temptation to rail at Scott, as he normally did whenever the subject of Tristan came up. If Scott was surprised at Derrick's silence on the matter, he didn't mention it.

  "Secondly, since you are here, we might as well discuss this trip you have planned to Morocco. I don't like it, and I want you to cancel it."

  Derrick found himself dumbfounded for the third time that day, and it was a feeling he was beginning to dislike. How the devil had Scott found out about Morocco?

  "I'll sail if that is my wish to do so, and honestly, given this new development, I think it's a great idea to get away for awhile."

  "Since when are you a coward?" Scott demanded hotly.

  It was an insult meant to cut to the quick, and that it did. Derrick was anything but a coward and Scott knew it. Derrick loved his brother, but this business of Scott thinking he ran their lives as he saw fit was an antiquated notion that had caused nothing but arguments as far back as Derrick could remember.

  "You know perfectly well it has nothing to do with being a coward. I have a business to run. And, like it or not, I'm not answerable to you."

  “There you are wrong, brother. You are answerable to this family. What would I tell everyone if you were killed during your fool's errand? Tell me that. Do you not care that those who love you would be devastated?”

  It was a low blow, even for Scott, but he knew the only way to make certain Derrick would take him seriously was to involve the family. Unfortunately for Scott, Derrick had caught on to that game long ago.

  “You know I care, Scott. This family means more to me than anything, but it's not that simple. One does not just quit the life they chose to lead. You obviously can't give up being a tyrant, so why should I give up what pleases me?” Derrick replied calmly.

  "Devil take it, boy! This is not the life you were meant to lead. It is your job to marry and produce heirs, not get yourself killed in some foreign country producing nothing but a rotting corpse!” The vein in Scott's forehead throbbed angrily, an occurrence that marked the end of his patience with Derrick.

  Derrick sighed. "We've been over this."

  "And we'll keep going over it until you get it through your thick skull. You're marrying the Lady Kristen Ashby, Derrick. I don't want any arguments about it."

  Derrick shook his head. “If you've nothing else to rail at me about, I'm late for an appointment. I really must be going.” He lifted himself from his chair and made for the door with all due haste.

  “I don't wish to hear of you sailing to Morocco again. This madness must stop.”

  “Well, we have a common interest then. I don't wish for you to hear of my activities at all, so let's just say you didn't and I'll be on my way. Do drop in the next time you're in London, though. I'll take you to the clubs, introduce you to the chaps around the way, we'll make a day of it.” The ire was quite clear in his voice, and Scott knew he would get no more from Derrick that day.

  As Derrick rushed to the door, Scott's wife, Nicole, came in. Concern was written all over her lovely face and it pained Derrick to see it directed at him, but he would not be deterred by the likes of his family. He nodded in her direction and slid past her to the door and down the steps before Harrington could even get it closed. Nicole turned her confused gaze upon her husband.

  “Dearest, is Derrick alright? Did you argue with him again?” She asked accusingly.

  “Never say so, my dear. I wouldn't do anything to upset you, especially in your condition.” He said as he rose from his desk and walked over to his wife, now three months pregnant.

  Scott and Nicole had only been married for three years, but it was the best three years of Nicole's life, as far as she was concerned. They had a beautiful daughter, Rebekah, who loved her father to distraction, and he her. Even still, Nicole thought the Shane brothers could all use a more feminine influence to soften their rough edges, but they were confirmed bachelors due to the big family secret, which Nicole thought was ridiculous.

  Charlie's predilection for men did not seem reason enough to her for the way Shane men tended to treat women. Not that they were bad men, quite the opposite. But, they had certainly built enough walls to keep interested parties out. Why, Nicole had the devil’s own time bringing Scott around, but around he came and they were blissfully happy. She was certain the rest of them could do the same if they just found the one woman who made them throw caution to the wind.

  “Uh-huh, and that's why Derrick just stormed out of here without so much as a by your leave?” She clucked her tongue and arched a slender brow.

  “Love, that particular brother will continue to hate me until the day Tristan comes home.” Scott remarked with some sadness.

  “Oh, stuff! There is not one bone in that body of his that hates you. He may harbor some resentment, for it really was too bad of you to oust Tristan like that, but he most assuredly does not hate you.”

  Scott grinned at his lovely wife for she had a way of making every situation much more tolerable. He'd refused her advances at first; afraid that when she found out about Charlie and then Tristan, she'd flee, and he wasn't at all certain he could have withstood that. But, to his immense relief, and enduring pleasure, she hadn't fled at all. In fact, she'd stayed and vowed to be his wife. Not only that, but she had accepted his brothers, faults and all, and welcomed them with loving arms. He squeezed her close and kissed the top of her head.

  “We'll see, darling.” He lifted her chin and kissed her soundly, a feat that still made her toes curl.

  ***

  Some time later that night, Derrick stood ashore, arms crossed over his chest, a most agitated expression on his face. He was watching his crew unload their latest shipment of goods from the America's. Trade had been banned due to war, so Derrick smuggled certain items in and fetched one hell of a price on them. It wasn't that Derrick felt any particular need to have these items, because he didn't; nor did he feel it unjust that England should be excluded from the rest of the world in having them, because he didn't. It was simply the excitement that it brought him, outmaneuvering the royal navy, the danger on the high seas in getting the cargo, everything at risk. That's what had appealed to him.

  However, tonight wasn't bringing him much of the thrill it normally did. It wasn't that he was becoming bored, for he only oversaw the process once a week to be sure everything was running smoothly. Most times he left it to Jack, his first mate and friend. No, his irritation tonight was a combination of several things, one of which being his earlier visits to his brother. Derrick was still angry over the betrothal, but mostly he felt bad for
disappointing Kristen.

  He still couldn't shake that image of her slumping forward for just a moment, and then bravely squaring her shoulders, refusing to be defeated. It seemed his entire ride from Hollingsworth to London had been filled with thoughts of Kristen.

  But then the conversation with his brother had turned to Tristan, and that never failed to irritate Derrick. It amazed him that Scott had been so cavalier about tossing Tristan out of the family, but allowed Charlie to stay. Not that Derrick wanted Charlie out, far from it. He just wanted Tristan back, and was of the opinion that Scott was purposely being obtuse about it because he didn't want to admit he was wrong. But then, none of them rightly knew what Tristan had done to get kicked out in the first place, so perhaps Derrick was giving Scott too hard a time of it. But, even if that were true, Derrick didn't believe it was fair to kick one brother out and keep another in.

  Derrick grinned despite himself, though. Charlie had the great misfortune of liking men, a circumstance none of the family could understand when women were much better looking, but he had withstood their disapproval. Given that Scott was quick to offer it at every turn, Derrick respected Charlie's resolve. He was who he was and wasn't going to change because some people might not like it. And Derrick would be the first to run anyone to the ground if they so much as breathed a derogatory word about Charlie, or any of his brothers for that matter. He had, too. Many fights erupted when the rumors about Charlie began.

  But, it was purely gossip as no one in the family had ever confirmed it. They'd agreed that it was Charlie's life and he could tell society or not, though Scott had strongly urged him to keep it quiet. But, even still, the rest of the family received more than their fair share of Scott's tyrannical sermons. With today's sermon about Morocco still fresh on Derrick's mind, he scowled again. He still had no idea how Scott knew about the trip, or any of his activities, but it certainly made him consider the people he kept in his life. He didn't like that someone close to him was keeping tabs for Scott, indeed he didn't.

  In any event, the row with this brother had not persuaded him to change his plans. He still planned to sail to Morocco as he'd managed to secure a deal with one of his local tradesmen for tangerines, which had become all the rage in London. Besides, Derrick always liked going to Morocco. The country was absolutely beautiful, and the water was so clear you could see all the way to the bottom.

  The other issue that occupied his mind was the news that he'd received upon entering his study that afternoon after speaking with Scott. Apparently someone had found the caves in the cliffs he used to store his cargo. A complete inventory had shown nothing missing, but some very fine, very costly silks had been ruined. Whoever the squatter was had been using the silks as a pallet to the cold stone floors. Derrick had taken the news in stride, considering, but he'd not gotten this far in his dealings to react hastily. He'd bide his time and eventually he'd catch the bloody sod and set him straight.

  So consumed with his thoughts, he hadn't been paying attention and didn't hear his name being called. He swung around violently at the hand on this shoulder, anticipating a fight and ready to oblige the unlucky fellow. But, to Derrick's utter disappointment, it was only Jack, probably come to report.

  “Whoa, ye a'right there cap'n? Ye seem a might distracted, not ter mention ready to tear someone limb from limb.”

  “Yes, yes I'm bloody well alright.” Derrick snapped. “It was jus' a question, no need to bite me head off.” Jack replied with growing humor.

  Jack was quite possibly the only person that could get away with teasing Derrick, especially in his present mood. The two went way back having been friends since their school days. Jack wasn't a lord himself, but he'd been there because his grandfather had wanted to give him an education. His mother had married beneath her station for love, to the horror of her family. Unlike Derrick, Jack wasn't the least bit bored with life, but he did enjoy what he was doing now as opposed to what his family would have him do.

  They had wished him to follow in his father's footsteps and become a blacksmith. It was an honorable trade, no doubt, but Jack's heart just wasn't in it, so he'd never been good at it. He found he was much better at running a ship, and making sure Derrick had a rough time of it.

  “We came across the bugger thas been in 'em caves, mate. Ye might want a lookie see yerself, methinks.” Jack grinned from ear to ear, knowing this would be quite amusing.

  “Jack, you were schooled the same as I. Why do you insist on speaking as a low born ruffian? And I don't find anything funny about this situation. It could be someone sent to watch us, or someone who already knows what we're about. A number of other possibilities come to mind.”

  “And I be sure tha' none of what ye's thinking be correct, so stop yer fussin'.” Jack said, completely ignoring Derrick's comment about his speech.

  Jack slummed his speech because it made the crew more amiable to do as they were told. Not many fancied working for a nabob, not that anyone would really consider Derrick a nabob once they got to know him, but it was an assumption that was made all the same. Once they'd gotten everyone settled though, Jack kept the speech simply to annoy Derrick. For whatever reason it bothered him that Jack spoke that way, so naturally, Jack was determined to continue until the day it stopped bothering Derrick to distraction.

  “How are you so bloody sure? Do you know the chap?”

  Derrick's dark scowl wasn't improving.

  “Ye'll be seeing fer yerself, mate.” Jack replied

  cryptically and turned to head back to the caves.

  Chapter 4

  Kristen threw her bag out the window and clambered down after it, using the tree branches to reach the ground. Since Derrick had refused to accept the marriage contract, her despicable stepfather took it upon himself to insist she marry him. She had thought the arrangement was that she would meet suitors he approved, but he had quickly disabused her of that notion. Angry, and a bit worried truth be told, she had promptly told him how vulgar he was and what he could do with his proposal.

  Admittedly, that might not have been the most prudent way to handle it because he had only grown angry, and as luck would have it, that seemed to embolden him. The miserable cur tried to force himself on her, but Kristen stabbed him in the arm with the small dagger she carried. It was a gift from her mother, and one Kristen was well trained to use. Ashby had been shocked that she had stabbed him, but it got her point across well enough. He didn't seem deterred in the slightest, though, having locked her in her room straight after. He even refused to feed her until she agreed to marry him.

  The bloody sod, she thought miserably as she dropped from the tree branch. The fact that he was the only family she had left was the only reason she hadn't run him through with the end of her blade. Although, as her stomach rumbled angrily, she seriously regretted that decision. Her stepfather was a disgusting excuse for a man, and it certainly wasn't a secret that her mother hadn't loved him. But, she married him to protect Kristen.

  The story her mother told her growing up was always riddled with holes, but when Kristen pressed for details, her mother told her there would be a time to discuss it when she was older. Kristen had always suspected that Ashby resented her and her mother for how things turned out for him. Despite the fact that Marie, Kristen's mother, had paid off Ashby's gambling debts, he hadn't wanted to get married. But, as he began to rack up debt again over the years, Marie had refused to pay them off. Ashby had grown angry and threatened to expose them for who they really were, but Marie brushed it off each time, promising he would not like the consequences of doing so. Nevertheless, Kristen's mother most likely suspected Ashby's intentions, and if Kristen had to guess, that was why she created the marriage contract with the Shane's. Since Derrick had refused her, Kristen had to proceed with her original plan.

  Now that she had reached the ground, she gathered her bundle and headed for the cliffs, where she intended to stay the night and then call upon her dearest friend at a decent hour. Meloney
Atchkinson would know exactly what to do. Kristen's mother left her plenty of money, and she could certainly take care of herself. But, at nineteen, she hadn't met many gentleman, a circumstance she could lay at her stepfather's feet. Her only recourse would be to find a husband. It wouldn't be a match for love, but perhaps she could find someone that she at least liked. That would solve Kristen's immediate problem with her stepfather.

  When Kristen reached the cliffs, she made her way across the familiar terrain until she reached the cave she had found some time back. She thought the cave was already in use when she stumbled upon it, but Kristen had returned every night for the last two weeks and had not seen any signs that it was occupied beyond the crates. There were several large trunks of silk from China, a material Kristen adored, crates of tobacco from the Americas, cans of chocolate and other small trinkets of value. She wondered why they were there since trade was banned with America, and most other trade items came from the docks throughout the day. The only plausible explanation was that someone used the cave as their smuggling din, but Kristen had her own troubles, so she didn't spend too much time thinking about it.

  When she entered the cave, she stood against the wall for a moment to allow her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Once they adjusted, she walked in and frowned as she ran into a crate she was certain hadn't been there the night before. She looked around her small cave and became aware of several more large crates that hadn't been there the night before.

  "Drat! I find a terrific hiding place and some other oaf decides to move in. The bloody sod, as if I didn't have enough to worry about." She cursed as she shifted the crates to make walking space.

  Of course, it never occurred to her that the person who had moved in was the same person who'd put the crates there in the first place. She was too focused on her situation to notice much beyond the fact that more crates were in her way. But, a shuffling noise in the dark is quite loud, and Kristen froze when she heard it. She spun around only to run directly into what felt like a brick wall, but she knew was a man by the smell of him.