The Midnight Hour: All-Hallows’ Brides
Page 11
To do otherwise would destroy this beautiful creature, this enchanted faerie princess. This woman of his dreams.
He could never destroy her.
She was innocent, had never experienced a man’s touch or known passion. He could tell by the awkward way she’d clutched him when he’d kissed her just now. Also in the way she’d responded when he’d slipped his tongue into her mouth. At first confused and unsure. It was a new experience for her, one she’d accepted because it was his tongue probing her velvet depths. His body weighing down on her. His mouth grinding gently against hers.
Most women her age were married and had borne children by now.
Yet, no man had claimed Aislin.
She had been saving herself for him.
Which brought him back to the earlier question roiling in the back of his mind. What had he done to her back then? He may not have ruined her, but…she regarded him with such longing, he knew he’d done something worse.
He’d stolen her heart.
And having stolen it, no other man could ever possess it.
He took her into his arms and turned her so that she faced outward toward the sea while her back rested against his chest. He was sitting up and had once again propped his back against the low, stone wall. “Aislin, tell me the truth now,” he said, trying to speak calmly as he struggled to still his thundering heart. “I give you my word, I’ll protect you no matter what you tell me. What happened to me back then? More important, what is going on now?”
He felt her shudder.
She took a deep breath and began. “My name is Aislin Farnsworth. My…my…father…” She tried to continue, but her voice was shaking. She drew another breath and let it out slowly. “My father runs the Farnsworth Inn. It’s in Port Isaac. But I grew up in Polzeath. He did not want me raised beside the docks.”
“The inn is beside the harbor?”
“Yes. Within sight of the ships, a rough place, attracting the human sort of vermin.”
She turned and lifted to her knees to stare at him, obviously waiting for him to say something.
When he didn’t, she continued. “My father is known as Gentleman Jack Farnsworth. He claims to be the by-blow of an earl. I don’t suppose it matters, for he’ll never be accepted into good Society.”
“No, he never will,” William agreed, for those who regarded themselves as everyone’s betters fiercely guarded their ranks. No amount of wealth would ever be enough to allow an unacknowledged bastard into that elevated circle.
Aislin gave a curt nod. “Nor will I ever be counted among them. Still, Jack hoped to raise me as a lady. He said I was beautiful and could make something of myself. I even had governesses and tutors at one point. Not that he doted upon me. He didn’t. Whatever aspirations he had were for himself alone. I was but a means for him to achieve his goal.”
“Of elevating his status?”
“Yes, but everything changed when I turned eighteen.”
William frowned. “What happened?”
“I’m not sure. He went to London to arrange for my debut.” She rolled her eyes and gave a mirthless laugh. “He came home with his tail between his legs. It was just as you pointed out. No amount of wealth would ever gain him the respectability he sought. Nor would any gentleman ever take me as his wife, no matter how pretty I was or how generous my dowry.”
She followed the flight of a plover as it circled overhead. “He must have been humiliated. A proud man like him, used to being treated with awe and respect. In the blink of an eye, my tutors, my seamstress, and my dancing instructor were all dismissed. You’ll make yourself useful at the inn, he said to me.”
“And that’s where we met? At the Farnsworth Inn in Port Isaac.”
“Yes. I’d only been working there a few months before you strode in with your brother and a few of your crewmen. You’d made it safely into port just as the storm hit. I was the barmaid who served you.”
She shifted uncomfortably, making no move to get off her knees. He frowned, for it seemed as though she was supplicating to him. He knew she wasn’t intending to, but this was how it looked to him.
“So, you see,” she said, misunderstanding his frown, “that’s all I am. A girl who works at an inn, serving drinks in its taproom because men drink more when served by a pretty face.”
He rose and brought her to her feet. “You are an innkeeper’s daughter. There is nothing shameful in that.”
She cast him a look of dismay. “No, there isn’t. But that isn’t all he is. Why do you think you sent Gideon off in the middle of a raging storm to fetch the Plymouth militia?” She put her hands on his chest, but he wasn’t certain whether it was to draw him closer or shove him away. “Don’t make me say the last of it. Can you not guess? Must you be so cruel?”
“Yes, Aislin.” Because he still remembered none of it. “I will hear it from your lips.”
She broke away and ran through the ruins, down the hill to where she’d tethered her horse next to his. He followed her, cursing the haze of his lost memories that refused to lift. He was forcing her to relate events that tormented her as much as they did him.
She’d reached her horse and was about to climb onto her saddle when he caught up to her. He lifted her into his arms, holding her fast so that she could not break away. “Don’t fight me, Aislin.”
Although he had no memory of that storm-ravaged night, it would take a simpleton not to understand what she was saying. “Your father, Gentleman Jack Farnsworth…he ordered my ship attacked. Why? We could not have been sailing with a full cargo, only a few wares to trade in Dublin or Drogheda. That’s where we would have picked up our profitable cargo.”
He eased his hold, not wishing to bruise her. But he was not about to let her go. If she slipped away from him this time, he knew she would never come back. “What made him choose my ship?”
“It wasn’t about the goods or your vessel.” She stopped resisting him, realizing it was futile. She groaned in utter misery. “He saw the way I looked at you. He knew what I felt for you, so he ordered you killed. It was you he went after. You didn’t even know my name, and he wanted you dead. I did this to you. I was responsible for the death of your crew.”
She tried to push away again, but he hugged her close instead. “Oh, Aislin. My Aislin. How can you blame yourself for what your father did?”
Her tears began to flow in earnest. “How can I not?” She gazed at him in astonishment.
“Tell me the rest of it. Did you try to warn me?”
“Of course! When I overheard him speaking to his men, forming his plan, I rushed upstairs and told you all I knew. I begged you to leave at once.”
He cast her a mirthless smile. “That’s why I kissed you. For risking your life to save me.”
“Yes, but it doesn’t matter now. Your men are dead. Your ship is lost.”
She’d lived with the guilt and shame for three years. He would not allow her to blame herself a moment longer. “It isn’t your fault.”
He saw the raw pain in her eyes and knew that a mere conciliatory pat on the head would never release her from the burden of blame she carried. “Not your fault,” he repeated, though he expected the assurance would fall on deaf ears.
What her father had done was his sin alone.
“How can you not hate me?” Aislin punctuated the question with a shudder.
Hate her? He wanted to protect this angel with his life. His heart had always remembered her. These feelings she’d aroused had never been forgotten.
Nor would they ever.
Of course, her bastard-of-a-father had just assumed he, an English baron, would use his daughter for only one thing, his sexual pleasure. Perhaps take her on as his mistress and then discard her once he’d tired of her.
The wind blew her unbound hair off her face so that he had an unobstructed view of her loveliness. Her mouth was a touch too wide. Her eyes were a shimmering, silver-gray, framed by long, dark lashes. Her lips were full and pink as roses.
Her only crime was to feel a stirring in her heart for him, just as he’d felt his heart stirring for her.
Had he told her how he felt back then?
Would she believe him if he told her now? “No, Aislin. We’re in this together.”
“In what together? My father tried to kill you. Go home while you still can, Lord Whitpool.”
“William.”
“My lord,” she insisted. “Let your brother take care of the pirates who bring death and destruction in these coastal waters. You’re the baron. Reclaim your life. Marry someone worthy of you, and sire sons and daughters as fine as you.”
“I won’t leave you to face your father’s wrath alone.” He put a finger to her lips when she made to protest. “My business is far from finished here.”
“You have no business here. Be content you’ve found me. Now go. Please!”
He shook his head. “Not before I see Gideon again.”
“But he hasn’t been here in over a month. That has me very worried,” she admitted. “Not for me. My father won’t harm me. But what if he’s gotten his hands on Gideon?”
“Then that settles it. I’m going to find him.”
She gasped. “You fool! Why are you so stubborn? If Gentleman Jack Farnsworth got his hands on your brother, then he is long since dead. Your looking for him will only lead you to the same end.”
“But you don’t know for certain that your father has him.”
“No, but…” She sighed. “Very well, we’re in this together. However, I must be the one to search for him. You need to ride to Plymouth and return with the militia.”
“As Gideon tried to do? Did he ever make it there? And who among the officers can I trust? No, Aislin. All I need from you is to feed me information, then go home and pretend you know nothing about me.”
She rolled her eyes. “Someone tried to kill you last night. He could have been sent by my father, which means he knows you are here.”
“And now he believes me dead.”
“You don’t know this. I may have been followed here today. His lackey will report that you’re still alive.”
“Do you think you were followed?”
She nibbled her lip. “I don’t know. I didn’t notice anyone on my trail, but the man might be more cautious than I give him credit for.”
“Seems to me your father and his men have grown too bold. Had he sent a man after you, he would have meant for you to see him.”
She frowned. “Perhaps.”
“Not perhaps. If he thinks I’m dead, then he’d want you to know that he killed me.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “But this would leave me free to search for Gideon while your father’s guard is down.”
“No! I will search for you.”
“Aislin–”
“He won’t have reason to guard himself if he no longer feels threatened by you. Besides, you wouldn’t know where to start.”
William gripped her shoulders, wanting to shake sense into her. “And you would?”
She nodded. “Better than you, my lord. I will talk to his men. I will talk him into confessing, perhaps. Men loosen their tongues when they’ve been drinking. They boast to impress a pretty woman.”
She blushed, obviously uncomfortable with thinking of herself as that. But beauty such as hers would never go unnoticed by men. It wouldn’t matter what sort. Gentlemen. Scum. They’d all look their fill.
They’d all desire to possess her.
Hadn’t he desired just this thing?
“The more I think on it,” she continued, “if Gideon has come to harm, then it couldn’t have been by my father’s hand. You’re right. He would not have kept quiet about your brother’s death. He would have taunted me with the news, boasted to me of it, for that is his way. So, it is more likely your brother is hurt. Or he’s been killed by someone else’s hand. Either way, I’m the best hope you have of finding out what happened to him.”
He cast her an angry look. “I don’t want you involved.”
She laughed. “Too late for that. Three years too late. Let’s review all we know. Tell me about Gideon. Was he a resourceful boy? Did he have a favorite hiding spot? Somewhere he would go to lick his wounds if he were angry or injured?”
“How is it relevant to what he might do now?”
“Do people change? My governess was one of the cleverest women I’d ever met. She used to tell me that a person’s nature stays with them throughout their lives. A sweet and noble child becomes a sweet and noble adult. An intolerant and temperamental child–”
“Becomes an intolerant and temperamental adult?”
She nodded. “I’m hoping Gideon was a resourceful, clever child.”
William managed a smile. “He was.”
“So, you see, it is important we think like him. If he were injured, where would he hide?”
William’s heart beat a little faster, for the girl made sense. “I don’t know this area, other than in my dreams.” Those damn dreams. “But you were raised here. You know the terrain. You know the rhythm of the waves and the moon tides. You know these towns and the pirates who control them. More important, you know the magistrates and harbor masters who are in the pocket of these fiends.”
She nodded. “I do. This is why I must return to Port Isaac and pretend nothing has happened. Let me find out what I can from my father and his men. I’ll ask at the local gaol, as well. But you must promise to stay out of Port Isaac. Stay here a while longer…as long as you can today. I keep hoping Gideon will appear. If he does, give him the message about Exmoor’s ship and then leave.”
“Leave? No, Aislin. Nor can I promise to stay out of Port Isaac.” The soft gray of her eyes turned to fiery embers, blazing at him. He knew he was being stubborn, and she was afraid for his life. “But I will be careful.”
He’d be shot the moment he entered the Farnsworth Inn. Perhaps the moment he stepped foot in Port Isaac. But only if he was recognized.
“I’ll meet you back here in two days’ time,” she said with a reluctant nod. “Do not attempt anything foolish. Think about where your brother might hide. You came here with a driver. Mr. Musgrove? He’s a local man and trusted in these parts. Let him come to me at the tavern if you’ve found out anything important.”
She was being logical and cautious, but he didn’t like the thought of being away from her even for a day. He meant to suggest another plan, but a glint of metallic light suddenly caught his eye. The horses began to neigh and grow skittish.
He grabbed Aislin and pulled her down with him behind one of the stone walls just as a shot rang out. “Stay here. I’m going after him.”
“William, no!”
But he’d already withdrawn a pistol from his boot and left her side to chase after the assailant.
Was it the same man who’d tried to kill him last night?
Was he trying to finish the job he’d botched?
Or had Aislin been his intended target?
Chapter Seven
Aislin wanted to chase after William but understood this was the worst thing she could do. Then she realized she could not run after him even if she wished it. Pain ripped through her. She felt a burn along her thigh and the ooze of warm liquid through her gown, soaking the fabric.
She put a hand to her leg. Blood trickled through her fingers, leaving a crimson stain on her hand.
She gasped.
The blackguard had shot her, the ball tearing clean through her flesh. Fortunately, it hadn’t lodged in the muscle or bone.
Still, it hurt like blazes.
She tried to rip her chemise to fashion a bandage for herself but could not manage it. Her hands were shaking too badly, and she seemed to be losing strength.
“William,” she whispered, wishing him back to her side. But she knew it was more important for him to catch the assailant.
Had the man purposely aim
ed at her? If so, it couldn’t have been one of her father’s men. Gentleman Jack Farnsworth, for all his faults, loved her in his own distorted way.
Perhaps love wasn’t the proper word. She was his daughter, his treasured possession, and he would never sink so low as to damage any of his valuables, certainly never his only child.
Which left the question, who wanted her dead?
Or had the man meant to shoot William and missed?
It felt like hours but could only have been a few minutes before William returned. He took one look at the red stain on her gown and fell to his knees beside her. “Aislin!”
“I’m all right.” But her voice was shaking and so was her body. “I need to bind my leg. I couldn’t manage it on my own. You’ll have to do it. Use my chemise.”
She’d seen him draw a pistol from one of his boots.
She laughed softly as he now withdrew a knife from the other. “You came prepared, didn’t you?”
He cast her a tender but mirthless smile as he made quick work of cutting the delicate fabric into a long, white strip and securing it to the wound. “I’ll get you to a doctor. I heard there is a good one in Trevena.”
He glanced over his shoulder to the town that could be seen from the ruins.
“Yes, Dr. Jones. Take me to his infirmary and leave me there. He can send word to my father.” She studied him as he bound her wound, noting the grind of his teeth and clench of his jaw as a mark of his tension.
She sighed, not up to battling him right now. But she knew he did not wish to leave her side. The stubborn man would make a fuss loud enough to alert everyone in the village of Trevena. Someone would scurry off to report to her father and make an easy coin, for Gentleman Jack always rewarded those who carried news to him.
For William’s sake, her father could not find them together or ever find out they’d been together. “William, did you catch him?”
“No, love.”
She closed her eyes and swallowed hard. Had he meant to use this endearment? Probably only to soothe her. He couldn’t possibly love her, this beautiful, big man with golden hair and emerald eyes and a body as powerful as any knight of legend. “Do you think he was aiming at you? Or me? Perhaps he only meant to scare us and accidentally shot me.”