Cathy Maxwell

by Lyon's Bride: The Chattan Curse

  She did not want Neal to die. Not on her account. She didn’t think she could live with herself if that was to happen.

  Dinner was a quiet affair, with Jonathan and Christopher providing most of the chatter. Harry was not there, of course. Thea had seen Rowan pacing the upstairs hall. She knew Harry had slipped away, and the manservant feared what could happen to him. A pale, somber Margaret ate in silence and then disappeared to her room as quickly as possible. She didn’t even glance once in Thea’s direction. She knew.

  And Thea felt guilty.

  Only Neal seemed content to pretend all was normal, laughing with the boys and eating a robust meal.

  That night, when her husband turned to her in bed, she held him tight. She never wanted to let him go. Her certainty that the curse was real had grown immeasurably, and she didn’t know what to do. Holding him, being with him was her only way of fending off the danger of their world.

  Neal made love to her with a gentle passion that brought tears to her eyes. He stroked, caressed, and loved every inch of her body.

  And when he entered her, Thea felt the two of them meld together. She never wanted to forget this feeling of having this man she loved so deep inside her.

  Together, they moved toward the inevitable, the pinnacle, the release—only this time was different.

  She felt her husband’s seed fill her, and she knew that it had taken. She could sense that spark of life, that spirit of a new being.

  Afterward, as they lay nestled together in bed, she placed her hand upon her belly, knowing that in time it would grow . . . and the curse would live on.

  Thea knew there was only one thing she could do. She had to save Neal. She had to protect him. She had to make him hate her.

  Neal was scheduled to be in meetings at Whitehall all the next day. In the wee hours of the morning, while he’d been sleeping by her side, Thea had formed a plan. She knew what she had to do—she had to leave him. Desert him. Abandon him.

  Then he would not love her. He might even hate her.

  It was the only plan she could devise, and, yes, it was born out of fear and desperation. She did not believe she could even share her plans with Mirabel. Her friend had become a staunch supporter of Neal’s and would do all in her power to talk Thea out of this decision.

  She had some money. Neal was very generous in her allowance. She knew he would not begrudge her taking the funds for herself and her sons. Her sons. The thought gave her pause. Her three sons.

  She was pregnant. She had no doubt of it, and she knew this unborn child was a male. Perhaps, if Neal lived, then this child would be safe from the curse as well. She knew she was guessing, but what other hope did she have?

  While her boys were with their tutor, Thea snuck into their room and packed a few things. She did not cry as she did this but moved with steely determination. Thea would not let Fenella win.

  Back in her room, she began making the same preparations. She had to leave before Neal returned, and she had to do it in a secretive manner.

  Unfortunately, she was caught.

  A knock sounded on the door as she was folding the last of her clothes and putting them in the bag resting on the bed. “One moment,” Thea started to say, picking up the bag, thinking to hide it, but the door opened on its own.

  She was surprised to see Harry standing there. He did not look well. His skin was pale and clammy, his eyes dark.

  “I wanted to let you know I returned on my own this time,” he said, sauntering in, his hands in his breeches pockets. “Rowan is relieved. He scolded me. Can you believe that? All these years he’s put up with me, but now you are here, so I’m scolded—” He stopped, his foggy brain realizing she was holding a half-packed bag. He tilted his head. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m leaving,” Thea said. Why hide it? Had he not wanted her gone?

  “You can’t do that.”

  His objection surprised her. “Is that not what you wanted?”

  He shook his head as if trying to clear his brain. The air around him reeked of spirits. “I can’t think. Where’s Margaret?”

  “Harry, don’t say anything to her—”

  “Margaret,” he hollered, going out into the hall. “Margaret.”

  With an exasperated sound, Thea set the bag back on the bed. “Harry, please,” she said, going after him, but Margaret had already heard his shouts.

  She came out of her room. “What is it?” she asked, taking one look at her brother and making a frustrated sound. “So you are back, are you? And looking the worse for wear!”

  “Enough about me,” Harry said, waving away her chastisements. “Thea’s leaving.”

  Margaret’s whole mood changed. She came charging toward Thea’s room. From the doorway, Thea turned and went inside. She wanted any arguments between them contained in this room.

  “Tell her she can’t go,” Harry said, following his sister into the bedroom.

  “Will you shut the door?” Thea ordered him in a furious whisper.

  He mugged a face at her sharp tone but did as bid. Once the door was closed, he poked Margaret’s arm. “Tell her she can’t go.”

  Thea turned to her sister-in-marriage. “I must leave,” she said. “The curse is real.”

  “Of course the curse is real,” Harry responded, throwing his arms wide. “We know that.”

  “Oh, Harry, I wish you were sober,” Thea said. “Then you would understand what I’m saying.”

  “I understand,” he snipped back.

  Margaret held up a hand to warn her brother back. “What is the real reason you are leaving us?” she asked.

  Leaving us. Margaret had said that . . . Margaret, who had disliked almost everything Thea had done, even when she’d been very careful about Margaret’s feelings. Margaret, who barely spoke to her.

  “I don’t want to,” Thea replied. “But I must. I am carrying Neal’s child.”

  The air in the room changed. Harry collapsed on the bench at the foot of the bed. Margaret raised a hand to her head. They knew what this meant.

  And then Margaret said, “But how is your leaving going to do anything but tear Neal’s heart out?”

  So, they had noticed he loved her. “He’ll be angry if I leave, and then he’ll hate me,” Thea said, her eyes stinging. “I don’t want him to love me. He’s never said the words to me. There may be time to help him. I’ve had the dream,” she said to Margaret.

  “The dream?” Margaret asked.

  “You don’t know about it?” Thea shook her head. “Perhaps only those who are being chosen have it. I’ve had dreams where I’m burning and everything is being destroyed. There is terrible laughter in the background. A woman’s laughter. I can’t describe it except to say it is the most evil sound I’ve ever heard. I started having it after I married Neal. Cass Sweetling had dreams as well, much like mine. She asked me about them. Now I know the curse is real.”

  Thea closed the top of the bag. “I love him. I don’t want anything to happen to him. I want Neal safe. I want our son safe. Our son will be safe. This is the only action I can think of taking.”

  “But you and your sons have become a part of our lives,” Harry said. “We don’t want you to go.”

  His candid admission touched Thea. “And I would not go if there was any other way out of this.”

  “Where is Neal now?” Margaret asked.

  “He has the day at Whitehall, and then he will be dining with Lord Blayne and a few others,” Thea said. “He warned me it would be a late night. That gives me time to leave London.”

  “And then after that?” Margaret wondered.

  “I’d best leave the country,” Thea answered, not willing to divulge her plans to either of them.

  Margaret nodded.

  “This is all rot,” Harry said, jumping to his feet. He gestured wildly. “I don’t want you to leave. I don’t want your sons to leave. You are family now. You belong here.”

  “Even if it means your brother’s life?” Th
ea asked gently.

  He let his arms drop in defeat. “I can’t take this,” he said. “I can’t stay here. I don’t want to think of this.” He lurched for the door.

  Margaret called after him. “Going for the bottle, Harry, or more opium?”

  He paused, looked back at her. “You are cruel, Margaret.”

  “No, your excesses are cruel, my brother. Go. Lose yourself.”

  “I don’t want her to go,” Harry said sadly. “I don’t want her boys to go.”

  “Sometimes we must make hard decisions,” Thea said.

  Harry seemed to waver, then he opened the door, slamming it behind him.

  “He must change,” Thea said.

  “Aren’t you the one who said he would when he wanted to make the change?” Margaret reminded her.

  “It’s hard waiting for that moment, if it ever does come,” Thea replied. She ran her hand thoughtfully over the handle of the bag. “I do love Neal. I want his happiness.”

  “How good you were for all of us. But you are right. We must protect Neal and the child you carry. At least he will have his brothers.”

  Thea nodded, feeling hollow inside.

  “Do you have money?” Margaret asked.

  “I have my pin money.”

  “Let me add mine. I never spend it.” Margaret left the room and came back a few minutes later with a heavy leather purse. “Whenever you need money, contact me. Harry and I will see you are cared for, and we won’t let Neal know.”

  “Thank you.”

  “How are you going to leave?”

  “I will sneak this bag outside. I’ll collect my sons after their lessons and we’ll walk off. After that, it’s best you don’t know my plans or my direction.”

  “The boys won’t want to leave.”

  “I know,” Thea admitted. “This is going to be so hard.” She broke down.

  Immediately, Margaret threw her arms around her. “I won’t lose track of you. We can’t. You and your sons are part of us now. And, Thea, I believe you are doing the bravest thing I have ever witnessed.”

  Thea nodded. Margaret’s support meant a great deal to her. But now was not the time to linger. “I must go.”

  She didn’t look back.

  Neal was relieved to finally return home. The dinner meeting had gone overlong, and it was now well past midnight. He had wanted to leave hours ago, but there had not been the opportunity to excuse himself gracefully.

  The house was dark save for a servant waiting for him by the door. Neal took a candle and went up the stairs. He could not wait to climb into bed beside his wife. He hated spending a day like this one. He would rather have had his evening at home with his family.

  The bedroom was dark. Neal cupped the candle with his hand so that the light would not disturb Thea. He thought about blowing it out, but he feared stumbling around and making noise when he crashed into things.

  Placing the candle in a holder on the dresser, he set out to disrobe as quietly and quickly as he could and then join his wife—

  The faint light of the candle barely reached the bed, but Neal could see it was empty.

  His first thought was that one of the boys might have taken ill and she was with him. He picked up the candle, determined to go to the boys’ rooms and see for himself, when a knock sounded on the door.

  “Come in.”

  Harry pushed the door open. He was in stockinged feet, and his shirt was pulled out over his breeches. His hair was mussed, he had a growth of beard, and he had not bothered with a neck cloth. Neal’s first thought was that he was foxed. His skin was pale and his eyes sunken, always signs of the worst.

  “I’m cold, stone sober, if that is what you are wondering,” Harry said, wandering into the room.

  “That’s good,” Neal murmured.

  “Aye, good. I don’t feel good. I feel ill.” He held out his hand. It was shaking. “But I had to be sober to talk to you.”

  Neal found himself impatient. He was more interested in locating his wife than talking with his errant brother. “What do you have to say?” he asked, letting his annoyance show.

  “Thea is gone. She’s taken her sons with her.”

  Now he had Neal’s attention.

  “I don’t understand,” Neal said with disbelief. “She wouldn’t leave.” He started toward the door, wanting to see Jonathan and Christopher.

  Harry stood his ground, not letting him pass. “Sit down, brother,” he said. “I want to tell you a story about love.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Thea took the mail coach as far as it would go. When at last she stopped, she and her sons found themselves on the Cornish coast, far removed from life in London.

  Here, she let a small cottage overlooking the sea. It was a lonely place, and it fit her mood.

  Her sons were furious with her.

  They felt betrayed, and she didn’t blame them.

  When she’d taken them from their tutor, she’d told them they were going on a holiday and that Lyon would join them shortly. With that terrible lie, she’d purchased their cooperation.

  For a week after they moved into the cottage, Jonathan and Christopher kept an eye out on the road for any sign of Lyon. They talked about their ponies and their schooling. They had plans, plans Thea had interrupted.

  After the second week, they stopped speaking of those things. They grew distrustful of her and querulous with each other.

  Finally, Jonathan confronted her. “We are going back, aren’t we? Or is this like it was with Father? He just left and we didn’t see him again.”

  Thea wasn’t feeling too good. She always had difficulty with the first weeks of her pregnancy, and this time was no different. “No, Jonny, we are not going back.”

  “Did Lyon send us away?” her son demanded.

  She shook her head. She knew that with the right words she could make them think Neal had played a hand in their leaving. Then she wouldn’t be portrayed so black. However, she found she could not do that to them. They needed some of the truth.

  “We had to leave,” she said sadly. “I didn’t want to go, and Lyon would not want us to go.”

  “Then let’s go back,” Jonathan said.

  “We can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Someday I can tell you. Not now.”

  Her oldest was not pleased with the answer. He stomped off and didn’t speak to her for days. Christopher acted as their intermediary, but he was not happy with his mother as well and often cried himself to sleep. He started sucking his thumb again, a habit she deplored and something he hadn’t done in years.

  She was also lonely. Neal was her friend as well as her lover. She missed him to the point it physically hurt to be without him.

  But she hadn’t had the dream.

  If she had, she would have gone running back to London as quickly as she’d been able. However, the lack of the dream gave her hope that her plan would work.

  Still, it was a lonely life.

  Autumn came more rapidly on the coast. The wind off the sea grew colder. Thea had enough money to last them a long time. There wouldn’t be extras, but they would not lack for what was important.

  And all the time, the baby within her grew.

  On an October morning, Jonathan gave a shout that a visitor was riding down the road toward their cottage. They didn’t have visitors. Thea kept to herself and rarely ventured into the local village unless she had to do so.

  She went out into the cottage garden. A rider was at the top of the hill above the house and starting his way down. She recognized him immediately.

  Neal had found her.

  “Boys, come into the house,” Thea ordered.

  Christopher hurried to her, but Jonathan charged toward the dirt path in front of the house. “I know him,” Jonathan said. “I know that man.” He began running up the road. “It’s Lyon,” he shouted. “Lyon has come.”

  Christopher tried to take off after him, with a happy “Lyon.”

&
nbsp; Thea grabbed his arm, wanting to hold him, but her youngest defied her, twisting his way free and chasing after his brother. Thea watched in helpless wonder as her children jumped and danced as they welcomed Neal.

  She didn’t know what to do. Her belly was not showing that much. Perhaps she could bluff her way into making him think she wanted nothing to do with him. But first she had to control her own wild emotions at realizing that he was here. He had come for her, and she realized she’d been waiting for him.

  Thea escaped into the cottage. It had a wood floor and was decorated in a comfortable, homey style—yet she could not wait to leave it. She grabbed hold of a chair and clutched it with all she had. She had to be brave. She had to convince Neal that she had left him because she did not love him. Even if she went back with him, she could not let him love her.

  She heard his voice out in the yard. The tone of it reverberated through her being. Her sons were speaking over each other in their enthusiasm to share how much they’d missed him. She took a step toward the window to look outside. He was holding them both in his arms and hugging them as if he would never let them go.

  How many times when she’d been married to Boyd had she longed for her sons to know this exact sort of commitment and love from a father? And here it was.

  Was she willing to take this away from them?

  Neal saw her watching them. He stood. He looked very handsome in an open greatcoat over his riding clothes and tall boots. His hair was longer than it had been, and his whiskers were almost as rough as Harry’s.

  Neal said something to her sons. They looked in the direction of the cottage and then took the reins of his horse. Neal started walking toward the door.

  Thea wanted to run. She thought about charging into the back room and hiding, but there was no lock to stop him.

  No, Neal had found her and the least she could do was face him.

  A step sounded on the floor behind her. She could feel his presence, feel the bond that was between them. The bond she had to deny.

  She turned, not knowing what to expect. He should be angry with her. Furious.