A Dangerous Courtship (To Woo an Heiress, Book 3)

by Randall, Lindsay

  "Julian" he cut in. "Call me Julian."

  "As I was saying, sir... er Julian," she corrected, "you are obviously a man with secrets. I mean, you navigate the stones of Fountains as though you were born to them. You slip in and out of caves carved in the earth as though you'd made them yourself... and you—you clearly believed that my coachman's gun was pointed and fired only at you. Why is that? What are you hiding from? From whom are you hiding?"

  It was the wrong thing to ask. Suddenly there was thunder on his brow. Finished dressing her wound, he lowered her booted heel from his knee, then got to his feet. He loomed over her, bracing his hands against the crumbling wall behind Veronica, lowering his face near to hers.

  "You ask a lot of questions for someone who appears to have some train of her own in motion, my lady," he murmured softly. "Tell me, why is it you are here? Why do you hide from your hired man? And what is it you were seeking when I rescued you from the dogs?"

  Veronica blanched. The storm in his eyes and the thrust of his questions were like a blast of cannon fire in her face. Suddenly, the effects of the brandy washed away and she felt fully the throbbing in her thigh. She was no longer certain she should have spoken so freely with this man. He appeared as he had when she'd first met him, when he'd lifted her up and away from the dogs—like danger on the hoof.

  "Please," she whispered, "do—do not hover over me. I-I am suddenly feeling ill at ease."

  "I don't doubt that. 'Tis a wild evening you've had. I'd wager it's not every night that you allow a strange man to touch you, kiss you, as you've allowed me to do."

  Heated shame suffused her. Rude of him to remind her. More appalling, however, was the fact that he was absolutely correct.

  "Or am I wrong?" he went on, purposely goading her. "Do you, perhaps, simply have a penchant for quickly becoming familiar with any man you might encounter?"

  Anger flared in Veronica. She shoved her skirts back into place and straightened on the bench—but the latter movement only served to align her face with his. The sight of his black gaze, so close to her own, was unsettling.

  "Blast you," Veronica whispered. "How dare you speak to me like that and—and say such things!"

  "Obviously, I dare a great deal. Now answer me. If I were any other man, my lady, would you have followed my lead away from your search party?"

  "You'll not be getting any answers with insults, sir," she snapped, then narrowed her eyes. "Besides, I-I shouldn't trust you."

  "No," he agreed, his tone growing dark, "you shouldn't, but you already have, and I'd like to know why. What brought you to Fountains, why are there men following you with weapons, and what exactly did the lot of you hope to find here?"

  Veronica hesitated. Gad, but she hated feeling so cornered. What she hated more, though, was the thought of having her coachman find her without knowing a completion to her Venus Mission.

  Veronica decided her best hope at retrieving the package was to give this stranger a partial truth concerning her mission. He obviously knew Fountains like the back of his hand, and he just as obviously was in dire straits—enough so, perhaps, that he might be willing to aid her, for a price.

  "All right," Veronica finally said. "I'll tell you. I-I am here on a mission. A Venus Mission, to be exact."

  "A what?"

  "Never mind. It doesn't matter. What matters is that I find a certain packet... a-a package that was to be planted in this abbey at the height of Midsummer's Eve."

  "Planted here by whom?"

  "I-I don't know."

  "And what is to be inside this package?"

  Veronica frowned. "I-I don't know that either, unfortunately. All I know is that this package was to be placed here tonight, somewhere amid these ruins. And it is imperative that I find it. This night. And take it with me."

  "I see," he said. "And what will you do with this package—once you locate it, that is."

  "Deliver it to a friend," she answered.

  "A friend who could not journey here with you this evening?"

  Veronica frowned. If he knew Pamela, he would not have even bothered to ask such a question. The pretty Pamela was afraid of her own shadow, let alone striking out to search a place she'd never been.

  "This person chooses to remain in Town, sir. Anonymous. It is their right, of course."

  "Is it?" he asked, his tone indicating he did not agree. "I s'pose, so long as they've friends such as you, my lady, who will risk her safety for them."

  Of a sudden, the sound of Shelton's approach came to her ears. She could hear her coachman calling her name and, within a moment, could see the light of his lamp through the stonework. He was still a distance away, but clearly headed in their direction.

  "Oh, my," Veronica gasped, "'tis my coachman. He's found me." She quickly ducked under Julian's right arm and jumped to her feet, wincing as pain flared in her left thigh.

  "Found you... or me?" Julian demanded.

  Veronica trembled at the dangerous look on Julian's face. "I-I know not what has driven you to live in among these ruins, sir, but trust me when I say the man is searching for me alone. I'd rather not have to face him."

  "What the deuce has this man done to you that you are so eager to be away from him?"

  "It is not my coachman who so totally frightens me, but the man who employs him. Drat," she gasped, wincing again as she put the full of her weight on her leg.

  Julian reached out to steady her. "I can lead you through the passageway," he said. "Can get you to the other side of the abbey long before your man finds you here."

  "No," Veronica whispered, shaking her head, glancing out at the approaching signs of intrusion. "I-I have left him stewing long enough. I knew, eventually, I'd have to meet up with him. I should do so now."

  "And your package?" he asked.

  Oh, the package!

  Veronica turned her face to his. "Listen to me, sir... er, Julian. It—it is quite obvious to me that you've landed yourself in dire straits, just as it is plain to me that you know every inch of Fountains. Clearly I cannot linger here through this Midsummer's Eve, though I'd like to. I-I am in need of help... and I am in a position to—to pay handsomely for that help."

  "Go on. I'm listening."

  Shelton's shouts drew nearer, as did the glow of his lamp.

  Veronica decided to be blunt and to be quick about it. "If you will keep a keen watch tonight, if you will search every inch of this abbey, sir, I can reward you."

  "Reward me."

  Veronica nodded swiftly.

  "And just exactly how, my lady, do you intend to 'reward' me?"

  Veronica blinked. "A position, of course. You appear to be a man in need of employment and a solid roof over your head. Employment at one of my father's many estates is not out of the question. I could see you housed, and quite comfortably at that, in any number of shires throughout England. My father is a wealthy man. His holdings are vast. Name your desire, sir. Groundskeeper, gardener? Perhaps you prefer the stables? You could work for my father. I could arrange all of it."

  "You go too far," he said, his tone laced with an underlying thread of some emotion she could not quite puzzle out and had no time at the moment to do so.

  "Not all, I assure you. Nothing, no position, is out of the question—not if you aid me in my mission."

  "It is that important to you?"

  "Oh, yes. A dear friend needs that package."

  Shelton, together with his companion, had now spied the lamp's glow. "Ho! There! A light!" Veronica heard Shelton call out. And then came the sounds of his feet pounding atop the ground.

  "Oh," Veronica gasped, shuddering. By the sound of his voice, Shelton was in a furious mood.

  "Just say the word, and I'll lead you away from him," Julian offered once again.

  Another shudder rippled through Veronica, though this one had nothing to do with her fear of Shelton and everything to do with the man now standing in front of her, awaiting an answer.

  For the briefest second s
he imagined what it might be like to go into the cave with this man, to spend a full night with him at Fountains, just the two of them, with only the stars as ceiling and the moonlight bathing them....

  "No," she said aloud, startled at where her mind had just now traveled. "I-I cannot. Just, please promise me you'll aid me in my mission. Promise me you'll watch for anyone coming here, for any signs of a package. I've a room at the Red Lion Inn. I can give you its direction—"

  "I know of the inn," he said.

  "So you'll do this?"

  There was no more time for talk. Shelton and his companion were nearly upon them.

  Julian had that suspicious look in his eyes again, as though he believed all of this to be some grand scheme on her part. After a moment, though, he gave the barest nod of his head.

  "Thank you, "Veronica breathed.

  He said nothing in reply. Taking up the bottle, the lamp, and what was left of his shirt, he looked one last time at Veronica, then slipped through the passageway and was gone, dousing the lamp's light as he went.

  Veronica turned about just as Shelton and his follower burst into the ruins of the small outbuilding.

  Chapter 5

  A glowering Shelton—all six feet four inches and carrying a healthy weight on such a hulking frame—made no small matter of tromping into the small expanse where Veronica stood. A tiny, thin man—Drubbs, Shelton had called him—came skidding to a halt beside him, his eyes growing wide at the sight of Veronica standing in the shadows before the dark mouth of the earthen cave.

  In one meaty fist, Shelton held his lantern aloft, glaring at Veronica with a baleful eye. "You've scared the wits from me this night, m'lady!"

  Veronica forced herself not to tremble in the face of Shelton's baritone boom of a voice. "Hello, Shelton." She nodded to the small, gnomelike man who stood nervously at her coachman's side, dwarfed by his huge bulk. "Sir."

  Shelton seemed momentarily at a loss given her composed greeting. And then, as if a mask fluttered over his bull-like features, he frowned mightily, demanding, "What the devil... what has happened this night, m'lady? You led me to believe you'd be with your maid. Then I return from my business to find you gone from the village. Alone. Unescorted."

  Veronica flinched inwardly, but she refused to give any outward sign of how much this man intimidated her. He was an employee, after all. She tried very hard to forget the fact that he was her father's most trusted one.

  "I-I had heard talk of these ruins and... and decided to explore them on my own. I was frightened earlier by some roving animals and—and hastened away. Indeed, I lost compass and... well... here I am."

  "You did not hear my shouts?"

  She shook her head, unable to say the white lie aloud.

  He did not believe her, obviously. "So you are alone here, m'lady?" he demanded, not at all happy with her shenanigans and clearly wondering what was afoot.

  So much for the man's true concern over her welfare, Veronica thought. Doubtless he was only considering his own hide and what would become of it once her father learned of the happenings in Yorkshire.

  "Quite alone," Veronica answered.

  "But I saw the light of a lantern." The accusation in Shelton's tone was unmistakable.

  "Did you?" Veronica replied. "How odd. It—it must have been the play of moonlight, I imagine. As you can see, I have no lamp."

  "Ho," piped the small, wiry man standing beside Shelton. "Inst'd of badger'n yer lady, ye shu'd be askin' whut spirits or demons she be seein't'night! No doubt 'at be the light we spied." He made a quick sign of the cross over his chest, then pulled his threadbare coat closer about his bony frame as he settled his gray gaze upon Veronica. In a hushed whisper he asked, "Ye ain't be visit'd by him, have ye?"

  "Who?" demanded Shelton, glaring at the man he'd chosen to guide him to the abbey and his lady. "What are you muttering about, man?"

  "The ghost or demon that be hauntin' these ruins, that be whut!"

  Shelton gave a grunt of disgust. "Do not be daft, and do not be telling such Canterbury tales in the lady's presence."

  "No tall tale this, but the truth, I swears! Be it ghost or demon, there be sumthin' hauntin' the abbey. Seen it with me own eyes, I did, though only from afar. And I not be comin' near Fountains since." Voice dropping low, he added, "Beggin' yer pardon, but it be yer coin whut led me here this night and not a thing less."

  "And it will be my employer's blunt that will prompt you to lead us out of here," warned Shelton. "Now still that tongue of yours and keep your addled stories to yourself, else you'll be getting no coin whatsoever!"

  To Veronica, Shelton said, "It is time to go, m'lady. You should be back at the inn. Indeed, you should never have come to Yorkshire at all. Your father will not be pleased knowing you came to such a place, and with no chaperon. I am to watch over you until he returns from Bath, and do know I'd not intended to chase after you all the while."

  Veronica's patience suddenly snapped. She'd spent too many years being watched over and dogged by her father's many employees.

  But tonight—oh, tonight!—she'd felt unfettered freedom in the arms of a dangerous stranger. The memory of those moments were enough to make Veronica bold.

  "My father," Veronica said in imperious tones, meaning to silence the coachman, "needs to know nothing of this evening's happenings. Is that clear, Shelton? Had I been but able, I would have come to Yorkshire without you. Though my father employs you, do remember that it is on my order you move when he is not present—which, at the moment, he is not."

  Ignoring any reaction he might have to her words, Veronica turned her attention to the slight-framed Drubbs. "Tell me more about this... this specter," she said.

  "What might ye be wantin't' know, m'lady?"

  "Everything, sir."

  The tiny, gnomelike man drew up to the full of his slight height, his small-spaced eyes going wide. "Where ta begin?" he asked himself, and then, his face becoming animated, he said, "It all begun near nigh on a year ago. This part of Fountains was deserted till then, I swears—nuthin' but the mist from the moors, some sheep, and the wild dogs... the same that be troublin' ye this night. Folks be sayin' the fiend, or ghost or whutev'r 'e be, fought off those dogs many a time—and wi' 'is bare hands t' boot!"

  "A tale, noting more," Shelton breathed, appalled at the guide's ridiculous story.

  "That's enough, Shelton," Veronica said, very caught up in the man's words. She believed every bit of his story. Her rescuer had seemed to have little fear of the dogs, and he'd met the one atop the ledge with both steely nerve and unerring strength.

  "Continue," Veronica urged the little man.

  "He will not," Shelton cut in.

  Veronica cast the coachman a quelling look.

  The small guide ignored Shelton's warning. To Veronica he said, "I will at 'at, but not in 'is place, w' 'at yawnin' black 'ole nearby. Beggin' yer pard'n, m'lady, but it be in the black, and out o' caves like 'at one, 'at the specter makes itself known."

  "Very well then," said Veronica, eager to get her coachman and the guide away from where Julian had gone. "Let us head back to the main of the abbey. You can tell your story as we go."

  Shelton, not at all pleased, had no choice but to do as his lady suggested. The three of them headed out of the ruinous building.

  "So you have seen a man here?" Veronica asked Drubbs as they walked.

  "If it be a man. Chock-full 'o madness, it wuz—all wild ey'd, 'air like Samson's own, beard un-trimmed..."

  "I see," Veronica murmured. "And the man's name? His origins? Does anyone know?" she asked, refusing yet again to acknowledge Shelton's frown.

  The guide shook his head. "No one knows. But 'e be called The Riv'rkeep by all who dwell here."

  "Riverkeep? Why is that?"

  "'E's said t' 'ave a path 'longside the riv'r, clearin' brush fer the animals and fer the trout in the wat'r. I sees 'im meself, walk'n the water's edge, keepin' close, as if the Riv'r Skell gives 'im power—but only
in the darkest of night did I git such a glimpse, mind ye, and only a quick glimpse at 'at. There be others claim 'e walks the insides of Fount'ns and whut sees 'is black eyes lookin' out. Watchin' fer somethin' or someone."

  "How interesting."

  "It be said, too, m'lady 'at 'e be deaf as the day is long."

  "Deaf?"

  "Aye. Can't 'ear a thing. Could shout at 'im from afar and get no response, m'lady. But try t' get closer, and 'e senses yer presence right fast. The Riv'rkeep be said t' feel all things, m'lady. Ev'n be decipherin' a person's thoughts."

  Veronica felt a tingle whirl up her spine at this last bit of news. Had Julian deciphered her thoughts while he'd been kissing her?

  Veronica pushed the notion aside, not liking what the memory of his mouth on hers did to her heartbeat. She needed to keep her composure and not give Shelton any indication that she'd actually met this mysterious Riverkeep, let alone been touched and held by the man.

  She turned her mind to the guide's description of Julian. Deaf, he'd said. That would explain Julian's words to her earlier and the moistness she'd seen in his eyes upon hearing her speak. Heavens, but their tumble and the blow he'd suffered during the fall must have had something to do with the restoration of his hearing. Doubtless hers had been the first voice he'd heard... but in how long? she wondered. Drubbs had mentioned something about twelve months. Could Julian have been at Fountains for such a length of time?

  She shuddered inwardly, imagining Julian, alone and deaf, walking among these ruins month after month. What a beastly way to exist.

  But what had forced him here? From what or whom had he fled? And why, of all places, had he chosen Fountains?

  "Be 'e demon or ghost, m'lady," the guide continued, cutting into Veronica's thoughts, "'e be trouble fer sure—eyes black as the very Pit, the soul within 'im just as fright fill'd, no doubt."

  Veronica stumbled slightly over a step, but quickly righted herself. "Surely you don't believe that, sir. Why would you say such a thing?"

  "Only the devil 'imself, a specter, or a man wi' an evil past would live such a life, I'spect. If the Riv'rkeep be a man o' flesh-and-blood—which I doubt—then a dangerous sort 'e be."