by Jenna Kernan
‘I already inherited,’ Bane said conversationally, judging the distance between them, trying to get under the lad’s skin, to get him closer. A couple of feet and he’d have him. ‘There will never be another Beresford heir.’
Gerald swung at Bane with the pistol and, chained as he was, he had no way to avoid the blow other than by turning his shoulder.
Pain exploded in a bright white light and his world went dark.
* * *
His head not only ached, but it felt like it was stuffed with wool. His ears were filled with the sound of rushing water. Was he cupshot? He opened his eyes. To blackness. And the smell of the sea. And the sound of waves. Water washed over him. Cold. Bringing him wide awake. He coughed and spat out the salt in his mouth. His mind cleared. Realisation colder than the air around him.
He’d allowed that little worm Gerald to chain him up. He shuddered as he realised he was helpless.
Fighting the insidious sensation of fear in his gut, he yanked on the chains. They’d looked rusty and old, but, no matter how hard he pulled, they didn’t give.
Another wave rushed in and he fought to stay upright on his knees. This time when the sea receded, the water lapped around his legs. The tide was coming in fast. Fifteen minutes. That was all he had left of his life. Unless he could break the damn chains.
The thought of Gerald hurting Matry pierced his heart to the point of anguish. He had to get to her. Make sure she was all right. Feverishly he tore at the chains holding him fast. Pain gnawed at his flesh, but he barely felt it. He took a deep breath, tensed every muscle in his body and pulled with all of his strength.
Pain was his only reward. He roared his anger and it echoed back at him. He sagged against the rocks, to recover his strength. To try again.
Sick horror filled his gut. Mary. He’d failed her, just as he’d failed his mother.
For days he’d tried to ignore his growing attraction. To keep himself aloof from emotions, as he had taught himself to do. After watching his mother die slowly of her injuries, because of him, he had known he could never again expose himself to the pain of losing someone else. Overcome by guilt, he had sworn he would never allow himself the privilege of another’s love. He didn’t deserve love.
He still didn’t. But Mary, with her quick humour and courage, had made him want more than vindication for his mother. She’d made him want her, when he had known all along that he shouldn’t. And now he’d failed her, too.
If only he could know she’d escaped. If he knew that for certain, he wouldn’t care about the sea encroaching higher with every cold wave.
Because he loved her more than he loved his own life.
He loved her.
The thought filled him with despair. He’d carelessly put her in terrible danger. Again he yanked on the chains.
A glowing figure in white floated towards him. The seawater had affected his brain, because what he was seeing was the White Lady. There was no mistaking the feminine figure outlined beneath the filmy robe and her long hair floating behind her.
His heart pounded wildly. Was this the signal that he was about to die?
‘Bane,’ she called out.
Not a ghost. But, oh damn, he wished it was. ‘Mary,’ he pleaded desperately. ‘I told you to leave. Go before he finds you.’
‘I—I hit him over the head with the poker,’ she said, crouching down. ‘I—I think I killed him.’ Her voice wavered badly. ‘I have his pistol.’
Relief washed through him. Dear God, never had he met such a courageous woman or one so frighteningly resourceful. ‘Do you think you can shoot at the pin holding me fast to this wall without killing me?’
She chuckled. ‘Probably not. But I have something better.’ She put down the lantern and reached for his hands. ‘I have the key.’
The next wave was coming. He could hear it rushing into the cavern. He held his hands steady while she fumbled with the lock. ‘Whatever you do, don’t drop it.’
‘I’ll try not to,’ she said, her voice grim.
The first shackle fell away. But he could see the wave rolling towards him in the light from the lantern. ‘Get back,’ he said, hating the idea of her moving away from him, but terrified that the next wave might carry her off.
Instead of doing as he said, she continued jiggling the key in the lock. And then it was open. He leaped to his feet and picked up her and the lantern and ran from the onrushing wave.
‘Oh,’ she said when he put her down. ‘That was...remarkable.’
Cold and shivering, he leaned against the wall of the cave. ‘Where is he?’
She took the lantern from his numb fingers. ‘I hid in the muniment room and tripped him with the poker as he ran by. Then I hit him over the head and pushed him inside. I barred the door with the poker. Just in case.’ She winced. ‘But there was blood on his face.’
A very clever woman, his Mary. His? His heart stilled. His mouth dried. He would be lucky if she agreed to speak to him again after the way he had endangered her life. And he wouldn’t blame her at all.
He put an arm around her shoulders. ‘Let us make sure he is no danger to us or anyone else, then find some dry clothes and a warm fire.’
She nodded, but her eyes were huge, her face pale and her expression fearful. He cursed the day he was born for causing such a look on her face.
* * *
Gerald was screaming invective when they reached that part of the tunnel. He’d managed to get the door open a fraction, but he barely seemed rational and was tossing papers and boxes around as if they were live things he was trying to murder.
Bane hurried Mary past and got her back to his chamber. He rang for his man and then sent him for her maid and a bath.
‘I can’t bathe in here,’ she cried.
‘You are not going back to a room that has a secret entrance,’ he said. ‘You can rest easy, I won’t disturb you. There are many things I need to take care of before morning. But not until I am sure you are well protected.’
There was a strange look on her face. He wanted to ask her what she was thinking, but he didn’t have the right. He had taken far too many liberties already.
A sleepy-looking Betsy arrived, followed by two footmen with a tin bath and another two with buckets of water.
Bane skewered the maid with a look. ‘Take care of your mistress. She has been through a great deal this night and deserves every consideration.’
Betsy’s mouth gaped. She dropped a curtsy and hurried through the door. Bane turned and left before he was tempted to remain, to help Mary bathe and see her safe to bed.
By letting his attraction for her overcome rational thought, he’d cause her a great deal of harm. She could have died.
And it would have been his fault.
The very idea almost sent him to his knees.
More guilt on his shoulders, heavier even than the death of his mother. Only this time he had a chance to atone.
* * *
It was almost mid-afternoon by the time Bane was able to seek out Mary. She’d slept until well past noon, he’d been told, and she was now in the drawing room.
Unable to resist looking his fill unnoticed, he paused outside the open door. She was sitting quietly gazing out the window, her hands folded in her lap, her thoughts clearly elsewhere.
So beautiful. An island of calm in a frenetic world. Only he knew the passion residing beneath the quiet exterior. Only he knew the wildly seductive woman below the unruffled surface.
Guilt assailed him. No true gentleman would have taken advantage of her innocence the way he had. He’d forced her into making a decision before he had all the facts. He’d wanted to believe she was up to some trick with his grandfather. He’d wanted to believe seduction was fair play, because he wanted her in his bed when in his heart he’d kn
own better.
He was lowest kind of cur.
And when she found out the truth, how he had put her life in danger for his own selfish ends, he wasn’t sure of her forgiveness. Nor did he deserve it.
He cleared his throat.
She jumped. Then flushed pink.
‘My lord.’ Only a tall, elegant woman like her could carry off that regal incline of her head.
‘Miss Wilding.’ He bowed.
Her eyes widened. A wary expression crossed her face. She smiled coolly. ‘You have arranged everything to your satisfaction?’
‘Yes. Gerald and his mother have been escorted by the doctor to York. She convinced me to allow Gerald to live out his days in an asylum there. Apparently this is not his first episode. His grandfather always put it down to an excess of sensibility. His mother suspected it was more, but didn’t want to believe it.’
‘I feel sorry for her. He...he won’t be badly treated, I hope.’
He’d been ready to give him a quick end such was his anger at the danger inflicted on her. ‘If that is your wish.’
She turned her face away. ‘I hardly think my wishes are important.’
‘He tried to kill you.’ This time he could not keep his anger from surfacing.
‘And you,’ she said softly.
He waved a careless hand. ‘If you can be magnanimous, then so can I.’
‘And Jeffrey?’
‘Like Mrs Hampton, he always knew Gerald was highly strung. He treated him with kid gloves and jollied him along. It never occurred to him that Gerald would act on his grandfather’s continual complaints.’
‘You believe him innocent, then?’
‘I do. His horror and abject apology for not seeing what was going on were most convincing. You see, Jeffrey has money troubles. He was hoping to turn me up sweet for a large sum of money. The will made it all very difficult, as he had said to his cousin. He feels guilt for adding fuel to the fires in his cousin’s head, but he would have stopped him if he had realised what he was doing.’
‘So it is all settled.’
‘Yes.’
He couldn’t help looking at her, at the turn of her neck, at the faint pink blush on her cheeks, the bright sky-blue of her eyes. Because this might be the very last time he got to see her. She’d saved his life, while he’d done nothing but put hers at risk. Every time he thought about it his gut tightened and his blood turned to ice.
‘I have to apologise to you for my behaviour these past several days,’ he said.
Her gaze shot to meet his. Her chin came up. ‘Your behaviour?’
His heart squeezed. She didn’t trust him. She never had and with good reason. ‘I have not treated you with the respect and honour you deserve.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I suspected you of colluding with my grandfather’s machinations.’
‘To what end?’
He looked at her, the heaviness in his chest almost unbearable. ‘I didn’t know. But I suspected there had to be something that would deprive me of my rightful inheritance. Something that would be revealed once we wed.’
A small crease formed in her brow. ‘Yet you insisted we marry?’
Because he’d decided he could deal with any plan of his grandfather, once he had his instrument under his control. Liar. He’d wanted Mary in his bed.
She deserved so much more.
She certainly deserved better than a bastard for a husband who had not protected what was his. His fists opened and closed. Fear squirmed like a live thing in his gut. He pushed his roiling emotions behind a wall of ice the way he’d learned to do as a boy. At some time in the future they might bear closer examination, but not now, when it would take all his strength to do the right thing.
Squaring his shoulders, he strolled into the room. Her quick smile warmed him like the midsummer sun, but he shielded his heart in icy determination.
‘What is wrong?’ she asked.
Already she understood him too well. ‘Word from Templeton has arrived.’
Her gaze sharpened.
‘The will is undeniably flawed. He signed his father’s name, not his own. Two names reversed. So small a mistake, it took ages for anyone to spot it. Whether it was intentional or because of infirmity, we will never know, even though I suspect the latter. Whatever the case, it will not stand.’
She gazed at him for a long moment, beautiful, clear blue eyes revealing the working of a bright intelligence. He could almost see the implications tumbling through her mind.
‘I am not then an heiress who must marry within the year?’ she finally asked.
‘But we will marry,’ he said. ‘The settlements will be generous, you can be sure.’
He waited, his mind, his whole body, alert for some sign as to her response to his announcement. He didn’t expect this to be easy, or go well.
A small crease formed between her finely drawn brows. Her gaze dropped to the still hands in her lap, effectively hiding her thoughts. He wanted to counsel her not to speak precipitously, not to rush to judgement, to consider the advantages, but he had been forcing her to his will from the moment they met. No longer. He didn’t have the right.
She had saved his life.
What he wanted, what he hoped, was that she could conclude that what he suggested was the right choice, the sensible choice.
‘Why?’ she said to her hands. She lifted her gaze. ‘Why should we marry?’
She demanded he argue his case after all.
‘Surely the reason is obvious.’
A blush said she understood his meaning perfectly well. He let go of a sigh of relief. He’d feared she’d balk. Feared it badly enough to hold his breath like a schoolboy longing for a treat.
She shook her head. ‘I won’t do it.’
For a moment, he didn’t believe what he heard. Then realisation hit with the force of a blow, shattering his soul to nothing but shards that pierced his heart in the aftermath.
He strode to stand before her, gazing down into her lovely, sorrowful face. He loomed over her, letting her see his disbelief. But not the damage. Never that. ‘You are not thinking clearly,’ he said.
She rose to her feet, tall, magnificent, her flashing eyes almost on a level with his. An angry goddess about to smite some lesser mortal.
And after the way he’d behaved, it was just. But he wasn’t going to let her go without a fight. ‘Honour demands—’
‘Your honour, not mine. As I told you before, I do not move in circles that bind me to your notions of honour.’ A flicker of comprehension passed across her face. ‘And besides, if the will is broken, then you can no longer claim guardianship. You cannot keep me against my will, or force me to wed you.’
Oh, his Mary was indeed clever.
Only she was not his. And never really had been his. He should have known better than to think, to hope, she might yet find him of some worth. Still, he could not let her go without one more attempt to find common ground.
‘Hear me out, at least,’ he said.
Her eyes were as cold as the grave. ‘Very well.’
‘The tables have turned, yes, but it does not mean we should not marry. I am no woman’s first choice of a father to their children, with my own parentage in doubt, despite my mother’s denial of wrongdoing.’
‘You doubt her.’ She spoke flatly.
‘I just don’t know. She fled. If she was innocent, why would she not have stood her ground?’
‘Sometimes that is the easiest way for a woman.’
He’d made her flee, too. He heard the condemnation in her voice. ‘Think of the advantages. I am wealthy. I can provide for you. Protect you.’ He could see he wasn’t making any headway from the hard expression on her face. He started to panic. ‘Build as many schools for orphans as you decide are require
d.’
For that he earned a small smile. It was a start. A chink in her armour. ‘I’ll give you free rein. Your own allowance. You don’t have to see me from one year to the next, if you don’t want to.’ He would do his level best to make sure that didn’t happen.
She took a deep breath. ‘It is not enough.’
Dumbfounded, he stared at her. She turned and walked away, out of the door, out of his life.
Left him standing there feeling as if he had a hole in his chest the size of a cannonball. He looked down just to be sure he was still in one piece.
Damnation. Impossible, headstrong, wilful woman. And he’d thought she was the only truly sensible female he’d ever met.
He ought to lock her up until she saw reason. Except he’d tried that already. He could not hold back the small smile that tugged at his lips.
Now what the hell was he to do?
Manners scratched at the door and came in, disturbing his thoughts.
‘What?’ he snarled, then closed his eyes and grappled his temper into submission. ‘I beg your pardon, Manners, what did you require?’
Manners acknowledged the apology with a twinkle in his eyes. ‘Miss Wilding has requested the carriage for first thing in the morning. I told her that our carriage was with Mrs Hampton and that the earliest I could arrange for a hiring would be the day after tomorrow. Did I do right?’
He could refuse to let her leave. Again. What would that get him, apart from her hatred? No. If leaving was what she wanted, if that would make her happy... Happy. The word painfully jiggled the shards in his chest. If leaving made her happy, he forced himself to continue, then that was what must happen. ‘Arrange it.’ He had one more day to find a way to change her mind.
The butler bowed himself out.
Happy. The word came back to lash him anew. She deserved to be happy. Between him and his predecessor, they’d destroyed her life. If he couldn’t do anything else for her, he could help her put it back together the way she wanted.
