"You'll soon be warm, my dove," he promised.
Thank goodness they'd arrived at the Dennys' front door. The couple was kind and would take them in without question. She had hired them on the recommendation of Lords Thaddeus Standeford and Algernon Barrett, Tobias's old friends.
"I am not your d-dove." But oh, how she wanted to turn back time, to be his in every way. "And I insist on not b-being treated like a child."
A pained expression flattened his lips. He readjusted his hold on her person and staggered slightly. "If that is your wish."
Carillons vibrated inside her. Heaven help her, she couldn't bear his indifference any more than she could the frantic beating of her heart. "What is it?" she asked. Something wasn't right. He'd agreed too easily and without sarcasm. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
He grinned sheepishly, then started to slosh his way through the muck to the Dennys' front door. She held on to him as he stopped, groaned, and shuffled sideways, borrowing the side of the cottage for support.
"I must get you to the house." He moved again, this time favoring one leg.
"Why didn't you tell me you were hurt?" She struggled to slide down to her feet. "Where?"
"Come," he said, refusing to let her go, putting one foot in front of the other as he limped to the cottage steps. "I will not have you ruining your slippers."
"I don't care about my slippers." She splayed her hands over his chest. "Tell me what's wrong."
"I've been shot."
Shot? The word rifled through her brain. No, no, no. Who would have shot him? Surely they weren't being targeted. No one in their right mind hunts in a thunderstorm. "How? Why didn't you let me know?"
Thunder rumbled loudly, frightening her half to death. His gaze flickered over the countryside, then slanted to the door. "We need to get out of sight."
"Someone is still out there?" She swallowed thickly. "We were followed?"
He lowered her until her feet touched the ground. "I believe so."
She struggled to breathe as if the wind stole her breath, hating the separation between them. The ramifications of what he'd told her began to add up. Tobias wasn't lying. Underwood's men were after them and would stop at nothing to kill Tobias, to keep them from bringing an heir into the world. She couldn't lose him, not again. Not now. Not when she was so close to reclaiming everything she'd ever dreamed of. Desperate, she pounded on the cottage door.
"Mrs. Denny will help us. You can trust her. She was delivered of her child with no complications, but I spent many months easing her condition to help make that happen."
The door to the cottage creaked open. "Lady Blackmoor? Why are ye drenched to the skin, and on your wedding day, no less?"
"I'm sorry to impose, Mrs. Denny, but we've had an accident." Prudence didn't want to frighten the woman. How did she explain that her husband was alive and that he'd been shot?
The steward's wife opened the door wider. "'Tis a violent day for a wedding and a terrible omen, too. An accident, you say? Did you say we? Is the earl with you?"
Tobias stepped forward and put his hand around Prudence's shoulders for leverage. "No."
The welcome glow of a fire in the hearth beckoned like a holy light. Mrs. Denny's eyes fastened on Tobias, then sped to Prudence and back again. "Well now, that is a relief!"
Prudence couldn't hide her confusion. "A—"
"May we trouble you for a towel?" Tobias asked.
Prudence suppressed a shiver of dread. It was almost as if Mrs. Denny knew Tobias. That wasn't possible, was it? The woman had never met him. She knew Prudence was supposed to have married Basil. But how odd it must look, Prudence showing up at her door with a stranger. Flames of humiliation rose to her cheeks. "I pray we won't be too much of an imposition."
Tobias's weight bore down on her, but she didn't complain.
"Auch. Where are my manners? Come in. Warm yourself by the fire, Your Graces. I'll make some tea." She stepped aside, then closed the door behind them and moved to the cast iron stove to move a large kettle. "Let me help you for once."
Your Graces? Surely that was a slip of Mrs. Denny's tongue. No, she thought, helping Tobias into the room. She'd heard wrong. Was she already coming down with the ague?
"Please, sit down by the fire and warm your bones," the steward's wife said as a tiny wail erupted from the cradle situated nearby. Mrs. Denny headed toward the wooden frame, grabbed the hand-carved side, and rocked her wee babe humming a lovely lullaby.
"There isn't any need to fuss," Tobias whispered.
"You cannot walk," Prudence said. "Of course, there is."
"Does that mean you care?"
Of course she did. If he wasn't healthy, she couldn't punish him for deceiving her. She ushered him to a comfortable chair near the fire. "Don't read into my concern." She unclasped his cloak, then urged him to sit. "Which leg?"
"Left."
She immediately inspected his left side, running her fingers down the length of his thigh. He winced as she located the hole in his brown breeches and ripped the fabric wider. "You're still bleeding." There wasn't a moment to lose. She turned to Mrs. Denny. "I do apologize for ruining your rug, but it cannot be helped."
"Don't worry about your wet clothes."
Their garments weren't on Prudence's mind. No, it was the blood oozing out of Tobias's leg that concerned her. "Do you have any clean bandages?"
Mrs. Denny immediately stopped cooing to her child. "Bandages?"
Prudence rose to stand. Sometimes the best way to say something was to be blunt. "He's been shot."
The woman crossed her heart and dipped a curtsy. "Auch. I shall gather what you need. I keep a pitcher of water near the front door. You can start with that until I return."
"Thank you," Prudence said, moving to pick up the pitcher and then hurrying to Tobias's side.
Mrs. Denny's footfalls retreated down the cottage corridor. Prudence knelt down and ripped a section of her gown to place it on his wound in the meantime. Seed pearls scattered on the floor. Tobias's muscles flexed beneath her fingers, and he winced, sucking in a hiss. With nothing else to do, she allowed her gaze to wander over him in a bid to rediscover the infuriating man she'd married. If all he'd told her was true, he'd denied himself a life in order to protect hers.
He looked no older than he had when he'd left, but there was a hardness in his eyes she felt compelled to breach. But that wasn't all. Muscular changes had been made to his physique, pleasing her more than she wanted to admit. As she studied the fine lines of his aristocratic nose, the downward turn of his sensual mouth, pleasurable sensations flooded through her, filling her with light, empowerment, hope, and yes, love. There was still plenty of it lingering inside of her, crying out with savage intensity. By the time she stripped her gaze from Tobias's face, tears were sliding down her cheeks. She loved him. God in heaven, after all he'd done, she still truly loved him.
Mrs. Denny returned.
Prudence wiped her face with the back of her hand and helped relieve the linen and ointment from the woman's arms.
Mrs. Denny handed Tobias a bottle of brandy, then gently pushed Prudence away. "I will tend him, madam."
"I can do it," she insisted. "I helped take care of you, didn't I?"
"That you did. But you've had quite a scare and you're as cold as death. Sit by the fire. Drink some tea. Rest. It will do you a world of good."
Tobias nodded, encouraging her to obey the woman's request.
Stinging from his dismissal, she crossed her arms, rubbing them up and down as she stepped aside. She wasn't thirsty. All she could think about was Tobias. She didn't want to let him out of her sight, even as Mrs. Denny blocked him from view. She knew he was in capable hands and she tried to stay calm, but an overwhelming sense she might lose him again drummed a cadence in her chest. To occupy her thoughts, she ran her gaze over the tiny cottage and its humble furnishings. Simple lace curtains hung at narrow windows, and tallow candles and a clock decorated the mantel.
On the wall hung a simple painting of a three-masted ship. Sturdy high-backed chairs and an oak table filled half of the open room, and a plain settee lined with embroidered medallions faced the hearth where the Dennys' innocent babe slept.
Prudence knew absolutely nothing about taking care of babies. In fact, she envied Mr. and Mrs. Denny their loving home and their little family more than they could possibly know. Children were the one gift with which she feared she'd never be blessed. It had been the main reason she'd agreed to marry Basil. Yet now, with Tobias back, that dream would be unattainable. Despair gripped her, and she choked back a latent sob. What use was a family when a man wanted to spend his life fulfilling a vendetta that endangered those who loved him?
A latch clicked at the back door. Prudence, wide-eyed, glanced at Tobias in a panic. He put up his hand and motioned for her to relax. The large wooden hinge gave way and creaked ominously as a dark-figured man walked into the cottage. Tobias didn't appear to be alarmed at the sight of Jones Denny. In fact, he acted as if he'd been prepared for the man to arrive.
Mr. Denny surveyed the room, paying particular attention to Tobias.
"We have visitors," Mrs. Denny stated the obvious, inclining her head toward Prudence.
Tobias cleared his throat.
Mr. Denny repeated the gesture, hiking up his belted trousers. "Before you seize up with protest, I can explain."
"I told you I didn't want to be caught in the middle of this," Mrs. Denny snapped, scolding her husband. "If you cost me her good-natured smile, I will never forgive you."
"Followin' orders, love." Denny moved into the room, his throat bobbing nervously. "Will you not ease Lucy's mind and speak in me defense, Cap'n?"
"Captain?" Prudence's heart clenched. What did Mr. and Mrs. Denny know that she didn't? "What on earth is going on?" she asked Tobias. "How do you know Mr. Denny? And why is he calling you 'captain'?"
Mrs. Denny tightened the bandages on Tobias's leg. He grimaced, then closed his eyes. "Aye," she said, clucking her tongue. "The truth hurts, doesn't it?" She cinched the bandages tighter, bound them off with a knot, and snatched up the now-bloodied rags she'd used to clean his wound. She stood, then lifted the water pitcher to her chest before moving toward the kitchen.
"What's going on, Tobias?" Prudence asked again. "What else haven't you told me?"
Tobias ran his fingers through his wet hair. "Don't be angry with the Dennys. Before they arrived here, I made them swear to keep my secret."
"Before they arrived here?" She touched both of her temples and began to pace. "Good God! How many secrets do you have?"
"It's… complicated."
"Complicated in what way?" She feared the answer, but if she was going to maintain her sanity, she had to know everything there was to know about her husband.
"Let me explain, Cap'n. You hired me to be your steward, and I owe it to your missus," Denny said, wringing his meaty hands.
"He hired you?" Prudence asked, confounded.
Denny's imploring eyes urged her not to judge anyone before she heard them out. "Two years ago, I served aboard a revenue cutter. The work involved sailing after smugglers, keeping 'em out of the coves along the coast." He waved his hands. "You're aware of their work?"
Prudence nodded. She was quite familiar with the occupation since Chloe's brother was a revenue officer.
"I won't bore you with the particulars, but one night we rowed ashore and found ourselves surrounded by angry villagers. I was attacked and left for dead. Cap'n found me, pieced me back together, and took me back to his ship."
"His ship?" Good God, she was at sixes and sevens. Her husband was a duke. He didn't have a fleet. Even she was coherent enough to know that.
"The Fury," Mrs. Denny answered with a knowing smile.
Mrs. Denny's attempt to dispel any confusion didn't register. The Fury was that awful pirate's ship. Tobias wasn't—
Her eyes widened, jaw going slack as she recalled the painting of a ship on the mantel. She glanced at it once more. The sails were black. "But that cannot be true."
"I'm afraid it is, madam." Mrs. Denny nodded. "To repay the captain for saving my husband's life, we agreed to watch over you and keep you safe while the cap'n was… away. We're beholden to him, you see. Sworn to maintain his secrets on pain o' death."
Tobias groaned. "I never indicated you'd be harmed."
"Ah." Mr. Denny backed up. "That was my doin'. Told her we'd be tarred and feathered, I did."
"You did not. You said, 'he'd keelhaul us.'"
Prudence couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Then that means… you," she said, pointing to Tobias. "That I am—" She slapped her hand over her mouth to silence her scream.
"A pirate's duchess." Tobias rose from the chair with surprising energy and bowed his head. "The Black Regent, at your service."
His grin drained the life right out of Prudence. Her weak knees wobbled. "The Black Regent? That isn't possible."
A wicked gleam twinkled from his deceptive eyes. "So you have heard of me?"
Oh, she wanted to scratch the smug look off his face. Of course, she'd heard of the blackguard. The Regent's name was synonymous with thievery, dishonesty, and illegal activity. In her naïveté, she'd tried to strip away Chloe's romantic ideals about the man to keep her friend from fantasizing about pirates. Now, a real one stood before her. And not just any pirate… the Black Regent. Not just the Black Regent, but her husband.
Her heart jumped as the pieces slowly began to fall into place. Tobias's death had coincided with the first sighting of the infamous pirate. He'd used his death to seek revenge, leaving her alone, bereft, lonely. How could she have been so blind?
She drew in a shuddering breath. She was married to a pirate!
"Oh dear." She reached for the settee to steady herself, unable to grasp this shocking information. What would Society think of her now? The lonely widow stolen before she could say her wedding vows by an insufferable, purportedly dead, pompous lout of a pirate-duke husband, creating a greater scandal than any she'd feared. She could see the headline of Trewman's Exeter Flying Post now: THE BLACK REGENT RISES FROM THE ASHES OF BLACKMOOR.
Tobias moved toward her, his reflexes honed as only a predator's could be. She gasped for air and fell to her knees. He caught her easily before she hit the floor and situated her on the sofa.
"I never meant to hurt you this way, Prudence," he said, sincerity bathing his tone as he brushed a strand of her hair out of her face. He rubbed her back gently.
She fought to catch her breath, trying to fight the despair bleeding her veins dry. "I'm not interested in what you have to say." She'd been lied to by three men she'd trusted in a single day—Tobias, Mr. Denny, and Lord Underwood—and had been abandoned in the name of revenge. Lies. Greed. Betrayal. Secrets. These weren't actions fueled by love. "You've ruined everything."
Mr. Denny stepped forward. "If you knew what the cap'n sacrificed—"
"Belay and veer, Denny," Tobias said, his mouth set in a mutinous line. He rose to stand before Prudence like a Druid monolith, completely misunderstood and out of place. "That ship has sailed."
"But Cap'n, if you'd just show her—"
"Quiet." Tobias stood, then moved toward the door. "Do you hear something?" He raised his hands, palms out.
Denny frowned. "I don't hear anything."
Tobias limped to the window and pulled back the drape. "Exactly." He dropped the curtain. "The storm has let up."
"You don't think the men who shot you will try to bully their way into the house, do you, Cap'n?"
He shook his head. "No. They wouldn't risk it." He paced the room, tapping his lip with his finger. "I've got it. Denny, go out to the stable and prepare Manfred for a run. I want anyone watching the cottage to think I'll be leaving for the manor house within the hour."
He walked up to Prudence and took both of her hands in his. "Secrets have a way of claiming their masters and those who get close to them."
She hated his
soothing voice, his touch, his beseeching stare. And yet she was held spellbound by this man who swore she was the center of everything he'd ever done. It had been Tobias who'd robbed Underwood's ships. Tobias had supplied hungry miners and villagers up and down the Devon coast with contraband. He'd stolen from the rich and given to the poor. This duke, her husband, was the people's pride and joy. But what was he to his own wife? A mystery.
"I wanted to protect you from all this." He raised her knuckles to his lips and kissed them, branding her skin. "You see, my dove? I had to die in order to keep Underwood from using you to get to me."
"But I don't see, Tobias," she said, the maddening beat of her heart betraying her calm voice. "I wasn't in any danger as long as Underwood thought you were dead."
He smiled and patted her hand. "Until, you showed Underwood the survey map of our estate, Prudence. Greed is an insatiable master. Blackmoor isn't entailed. Once Underwood has our land, the map, and Eggleston's letter, you will be expendable. I will not allow you to come to harm. I will do anything to stop Underwood from hurting the one person I cherish most."
"But how can you stop him?" Prudence asked, swallowing thickly, fighting back her emotions. She couldn't believe the lengths to which Tobias had gone for everyone but himself. If Lord Underwood suspected Tobias was the Black Regent and that Tobias was responsible for his insolvency, Tobias wouldn't stand a chance. Underwood would kill him.
"I already have a plan in motion," Tobias said. "You won't like it, but if it works, we will be free."
A sinking feeling weighted Prudence's feet to the floor. This time, there wouldn't be any lies. She would be in on Tobias's scheme. And she had no intention of allowing her husband to put himself in danger again. "What do you intend to do?"
"Fight Markwick."
The Pirate’s Duchess: Chapter Five
Once Upon a True Love's Kiss Page 18
