The Renegade (The Renegade, Rebel and Rogue)
Page 25
“He’s... he’s dead.”
“Dead?” It was an easy enough concept to understand. People lived, they died. But at first Padraic could only stare. Then he shook his head. “How could that be? I left here a fortnight ago and he was fine.”
“Yes, I know.”
“You know?”
“Yes, Oliver... your father told me.”
Padraic looked toward the bedroom, which was indeed empty, then back at the woman. “Who in the hell are you? What are you doing here?” His gaze drifted down. “Dressed like that? And what happened to my father? Damnit, answer me.”
“I know you’re distraught, but—”
“But nothing.” His hands were on her shoulders before he could stop himself. “Of course, I’m—” Padraic took a deep breath, and tried to calm himself. His hands fell to his side. His vision blurred when his gaze met hers. “What happened?”
“I’m not sure. He left early in the morning six days ago and... and one of the tenants found him that night. He’d been shot.” Lily watched Oliver’s son as he absorbed the news. He wasn’t at all what she expected, but it was obvious by his reaction that he had loved his father. Her fingers touched his sleeve. “Would you like to sit down?”
“No!” Padraic jerked his arm and watched her shrink away. “No,” he repeated more calmly. “I don’t wish to sit. I want to know who shot him.”
“That I don’t know.” Lily moved to the winged chair beside the hearth and sank down with a sigh. She wished this conversation could wait till morning, but knew better. She was tired, and the nightmare that woke her still played around in her head. “The farmer who found him is named Regis Kelly, but I don’t believe he can tell you much. Your father was already dead.”
Lily fought back tears and continued. “We didn’t know when you’d return. I mean... we couldn’t wait. Your father is buried beside your mother.”
Padraic stared at her a moment, then turned and walked toward the window. It was open and a gentle breeze smelling of spring tinged with sea air wafted in. Closing his eyes Padraic took a deep breath and faced the reality of what this woman was telling him. The finality.
His father was dead. He’d never see him again. Never talk to him.
Padraic’s fist connected with the window hard enough to rattle glass. “Damnation! I will find out who did this,” he yelled.
“I understand how you feel but—”
“Do you?” Padraic whirled around to face her. She sat in the chair looking at him wide-eyed.
“Yes... yes, I do.”
Padraic could tell she was frightened of him but she stood, moving toward him all the same.
“I lost my mother not long ago. She became ill suddenly.” Lily glanced down. Her words were so soft and low Padraic found himself straining to hear. “There was nothing I could do.”
“I’m sorry.” Their eyes met, and Padraic felt a rush of tenderness for this woman whose loss paralleled his own. Somehow it seemed to make his own pain less. But he didn’t want that. He wanted the pain and the anger and the need for revenge to be strong. Forcing himself to turn away he leaned his forearm against the window, resting his head against his arm. “Death is never easy to accept. Or what we expect.”
And yet ’tis the only thing we can be completely certain of.”
He glanced about, viewing her from the corner of his eye before letting out a breath. “Aye, it’s true.” It was happening again. That strange feeling that his heart was healing. He pushed away from the window. “Who are ye?”
Another question she’d dreaded. The answer was bound to upset him. Lily straightened her shoulders. “Lilianne Rafferty.”
Padraic cocked a dark brow. “A long lost cousin?”
“Nay. I am... was your father’s wife.”
A sudden deathly silence shrouded the room. He stood before her as if caught on canvas by a master painter. A wild young man with windswept hair and an expression of disbelief shadowing his handsome face.
When he finally spoke, skepticism permeated his words. “Ye’re telling me that ye wed my father. Oliver Rafferty?”
“Yes.”
“God, woman.” Padraic’s hands settled on lean hips. “If it weren’t such a sick joke at such an inappropriate time, I’d laugh myself silly.” He shook his head. “As it is, I’ll be asking ye to leave me now.”
“I realize this must seem strange but I assure you—”
“Assure me? Ye’ve been assuring me of things since I walked into this room. I’m wondering now if any of it is true.” He paced to the door of the bedchamber and back. “Ye tell me my father is dead. Maybe he isn’t. Mayhap he decided to pay someone a visit or took a trip or...” He was grasping, willing to believe anything other than what she’d told him.
But he couldn’t look at her, standing before him, her gaze steady, and not know that she spoke the truth. “My father and ye,” Padraic said while digging his fingers into his hair. “I’ve been gone less than a fortnight, for God’s sake.”
“It happened very quickly.”
His head jerked up. “That’s an understatement, to be sure.”
Lily ignored his sarcasms. She had to remember what he’d been through tonight. “I want you to know I was very fond of your father.”
“Fond?” The brow shot up again. “’Tis a strange way to describe your feelings for a husband.” When she said nothing, only stared past him toward the window, Padraic continued. “And my father, was he fond of ye as well?”
“Yes, I believe he was.”
Their eyes held a moment before Padraic shook his head. “What are ye, four-and-twenty?” He stepped closer. “I’d wager not that old.”
“I’ll be three-and-twenty by Michaelmas.”
“Three and twenty.” Padraic shook his head. “’Tis four years younger than I.”
“I know. Your father spoke of you often.”
“Well, he never spoke of ye to me.”
“He didn’t know me,” Lily answered reasonably.
“And I’m thinking there’s a thing or two ye don’t know.” Padraic could see it now, how this woman must have thrown herself in his father’s path, offering all manner of sexual delights, expecting much in return. But she would have another thing coming. “Dunlanoe is mine. The title is mine. Everything. There’s nothing for my father’s widow.”
Lily turned away from the anger in his stare. “I know that. And... I expect nothing.” Not quite true. Lily moved back to the chair, wishing she could hide in the corner.
“Good! Good. For that is what ye shall get.” Padraic tried to hold onto his resolve, yet even as he spoke he felt it slipping. “I assume ye’ve a father to go home to.” Perhaps one of the tenants or a tradesman in town. He’d never seen her before, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t been about.
“My father’s in—” Lily caught herself in time. There was no sense telling this man of her past. He had no interest. “You needn’t concern yourself, I shall contact him on the morrow.”
“I think that would be best.” Damnation, he didn’t like feeling sorry for her. He’d come home to find his father dead, a strange woman claiming to be his widow, and she was upset. Hell.
“Were ye... are ye sleeping in these rooms?” Padraic motioned back into his father’s bedchamber.
“Yes, but I can find someplace else.”
“No need.” Padraic rolled his stiff shoulders. “’Tis nearly dawn anyway.” He started for the door, pausing only when she inquired.
“Did you injure your leg?”
Subconsciously Padraic’s palm pressed his thigh. He had to make more of an effort not to limp. “’Tis an old wound.”
“I hope it doesn’t give you much pain.”
“Hardly any,” Padraic lied. “Till the morning then.”
Lily closed the door behind him, then turned, pressing her back against the hard paneling. Slowly she slid down till her bent knees touched her chin. When the tears came she wasn’t sure if they were for Oliver or he
rself.
~ ~ ~
“For God’s sake, Paddy, wake up.”
Padraic shoved at the hands that were roughly shaking him as one eye slit open. “Coyle?”
“Aye, ’tis Coyle. Now get up with ye. Where’s Shamus?”
“In bed the last I saw.” Padraic pushed up on one elbow. He lay or sprawled, depending upon your point of view, on a settee in the library. “What time is it? And what in the hell are ye doing here?”
“’Tis nearly nine, and I’m here obviously because I’m needed. How much did ye drink, for God’s sake?”
Bloodshot eyes fixed on the empty decanter, then shifted toward Coyle. “My Da is dead.”
“I know.” He grasped the back of his neck and rubbed. “Alison told me. I’d have been here earlier, but I didn’t wake her last night when I got in.”
“Does she know who did it?” Padraic’s feet hit the floor as he sat up, suddenly fully awake.
“Nay, but I didn’t have much chance to talk to her. Once I heard, I called for my horse. I practically had to push my way in here. Your butler assured me ye were not at home.”
“I didn’t wake anyone when I came in.” Padraic lowered his head, resting it in his palms. “I just can’t believe he’s really dead.” His hands rubbed down across his face as he glanced up. “I appreciate ye coming, but—For God’s sake man, why are ye pulling on my arm?”
“We need to get ye up to yer rooms and cleaned up. God, anyone seeing ye now would never believe ye were the dandy Lord Dunlanoe.” Coyle paused as Padraic stood. “There’s something else Alison told me.”
“Is it about my Da’s wife?”
“So ye know.” Coyle sighed, then paced to the window, turning just as he reached out to shift aside the heavy drapes. “I thought ye said ye woke no one.”
“I didn’t.”
“But then...” Coyle strode back across the room. “How did ye know about the wife? Come to think about it, how did ye know about yer father?”
“I met her last night. In the upstairs hall.”
“Ye mean ye saw her?” His hazel eyes grew larger. “And she saw ye?”
“Aye.” Padraic stretched and started toward the door.
“That’s it? Aye?”
“Well, I didn’t exactly plan the meeting, Coyle. She came out of my father’s room as I passed by. I was more concerned about what she had to say than who she was. But I’d wager she’s some tenant’s daughter, pretty faced, true, but I’ve already told her there’s no place for her here. She’s to send word to her father this morning,” Padraic finished on a rush. “For god’s sake, Coyle, what’s wrong with ye?”
“She’s writing her father?”
“Didn’t I just say as much? I’m going abovestairs and get cleaned up.” His hand pressed against his thigh. “Then I’m going... She said he’s buried beside my mother.”
“That’s what Alison told me.” Coyle leaned back against the cushions of the chair he’d sunk into. “There’s something ye need to know.”
Padraic blew out air. “Can’t it wait?” His leg hurt and his head felt ready to explode, and he wished more than anything he didn’t have to make the trek toward the copse of oaks where the Raffertys had buried their dead for centuries. “All right, I see it can’t. What is it?”
“Your father’s widow will be writing this morn did ye say, to Lord Robert Tinsley?”
“Why in the hell would she do that?”
“Apparently because ye told her to.”
Padraic’s eyes narrowed. “Is this yer idea of a joke?”
“I only wish it were.” Coyle shook his head.
“Ye mean that woman is the Duke of Westbury’s daughter?”
“Aye.”
“But that’s ridiculous.” Forgotten were his leg and head as Padraic strode to the marble fireplace. He bracketed the ornate mantel clock with his hands. “Robert Tinsley is one of Ireland’s fiercest detractors in the House of Lords. He sponsored the bill that taxed our wool.” He looked over his shoulder, his gaze snagging Coyle’s. “Da would never marry the daughter of such a man.”
“Yet he did.” Coyle stood. “There’s no mistake here. Alison was present at the wedding.”
“But what did he say? He must have given some explanation why...”
“He didn’t to Alison.” Hands folded behind him, Coyle moved toward his friend. “Your father summoned my wife here on Thursday last to act as a witness.”
“And two days later he was dead.”
Coyle’s head snapped up. “Ye think there’s some connection?”
Padraic gripped the mantel and leaned back, filling his lungs with air that seemed suddenly too short supplied in the room. “I don’t know.” When he turned around his eyes were hard as blue glass. “But I intend to find out.”
“What are ye going to do about Tinsley’s daughter?”
Padraic shook his head. “I don’t know. Not send her back to him, for sure. At least not now.”
“But how can she stay here?” Coyle mused. “And what if she won’t?”
“Did I imply she had a choice? Oh, don’t look so stricken. I don’t intend to kidnap the chit... unless there’s no other way.”
“But—”
“Damnit, Coyle! Would ye stop with the buts. I haven’t decided what to do yet. I can’t let her go back to Tinsley. What if Da told her something? Or hell, she was here alone for days. She could have found... Lord knows what.”
“What about last night?”
“She didn’t see me at my best, true enough.”
“Even now ye look more like... well, ye know what ye look like.”
“Scruffy, I would imagine,” Padraic said as he glanced down at his open-throated white shirt. “Admittedly not like the fastidious Lord Dunlanoe, but perhaps once she gets to know me, or him actually, her memory will dim.”
“I hope ye know what ye’re doing.” Coyle headed for the door. “’Tis a dangerous game ye’re playing.”
Padraic couldn’t agree more. He was used to danger, of course, but this was different. Lady Lilianne Tinsley, nay, Lilianne Rafferty was living under his roof. And with one word she could send him to the gallows.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Other Books by Christine Dorsey
written under the name:
Christine Elliott
The Captain’s Conquest,
written under the name:
Christine Dorsey
The Traitor’s Embrace
Southern Nights
Bold Rebel Love
The Captain’s Captive
The Rebel’s Kiss
Sea Fires
Sea of Desire
Sea of Temptation
Sea of Christmas Miracles (novella)
My Savage Heart
My Seaswept Heart
My Heavenly Heart
Splendor
The Renegade
The Rebel
The Rogue
By the Book
Under His Spell (novella)
The Way to a Man’s Heart (novella)
A Bride’s Desire (novella)
Rave Reviews
My Savage Heart
“My Savage Heart will leave readers breathless and eagerly anticipating the remaining novels in this new trilogy. Ms. Dorsey has created another incredible hero and a wonderful love story.”
~ Romantic Times
“As always, Christine Dorsey can be counted on to give us a tale full of adventure and romance. My Savage Heart is a poignantly written, emotion-packed read that will touch your heart. Her full-bodied characters and well-written storyline will have you engrossed from the first page to the very last.”
~ Affaire de Coeur
Sea of Temptation
“In Sea of Temptation, the sensational conclusion to her outstanding Charleston Trilogy, Christine Dorsey demonstrates why she is one of the most talented authors of the genre today: strong, unforgettable characters, rousing adventures, and history combine to create “
keepers.”
~ Romantic Times
“Ms. Dorsey’s hero and heroine are both strong-willed individuals and their misunderstandings add some very funny situations to this action-packed historical. On the other hand, their fiery passion will send your temperature rising. An outstanding, conclusion to a fascinating series on the Blackstones.”
~ Rendezvous
Sea of Desire
“Christine Dorsey has written a tale of passion, adventure, and love that is impossible to put down. Her heroine is feisty and her hero will leave you breathless. Sea of Desire is a book you shouldn’t miss and will ,need some space on your keeper shelf. it is marvelous!”
~ Affaire de Coeur
“Blazing passion, nonstop adventure, and a “be-still-my-beating-heart” hero are just a few of the highlights of this captivating second novel in Ms. Dorsey’s Charleston Trilogy. Sea of Desire is not to be missed!”
~ Romantic Times
Sea Fires
“From the instant Miranda and Jack meet, you know this is going to be a very special relationship and that Sea Fires is going to be a very special book. If this auspicious romance is any indication, the Charleston trilogy is destined to be an excellent series from Christine Dorsey’s sparkling pen. Be sure not to miss Sea Fires!”
~ Romantic Times
“Sea Fires is well plotted, sensual, and a pure delight!”
~ Affaire de Coeur
“There is an undercurrent of dry wit and many humorous incidents that make this swashbuckling romance a most enjoyable reading adventure. Ms. Dorsey spins quite a talc.”
~ Rendezvous
Kansas Kiss
“Kansas Kiss is a tender, moving novel that touches the heart. M Dorsey’s star shines brighter than ever.”
~ Romantic Times
The Captain’s Captive
“Make room on your “keeper” shelf for The Captain’s Captive. This mesmerizing novel has it all: rousing adventure, intriguing plot, and enchanting lovers sure to please lucky readers.”
~ Romantic Times
“From first page to last, the word for this book is captivating, it has all the ingredients for an excellent read. Adventure, verbal battles, sensuous love scenes, humor and above all, it’s well written. This one is a keeper.”