by Jo Goodman
"Papa!" Hilary started to move toward her father, careless of Ross Booker now that Noah's pistol was leveled at the man.
"No! Hilary!" Everyone shouted at once and all the warnings were too late. Booker lunged at her as soon as she passed within a few feet of him. They both toppled to the floor but Hilary landed on top, shielding her captor and preventing Noah from firing.
Noah shoved his pistol into Charles's trembling hands and immediately entered the fray, pulling Hilary away from Booker and roughly shoving her aside. He fell back, breath whooshing from his lungs as Ross kicked him between the ribs. A cherrywood table overturned. Noah jumped over it, knocking Ross back to the floor just as he was getting up again.
"Kill him, Papa!" Hilary cried out as Ross and Noah grappled and rolled. "Kill him!"
Noah shouted over Hilary's shrill scream. "No! I need him alive!"
But that was the last thing Hilary wanted. Alive, Booker was a danger to her. He would never remain slient about the part she had played in the Penberthys' scheme. Dead, she could say what she wanted and no one could gainsay her save Jessa. It would be her word against Jessa's, and Noah's wife had everything to lose by contradicting her. Jessa would have to admit that Gideon was not her son, that she had abducted him herself. Hilary refused to believe Jessa would willingly share the truth—not if Booker was dead and the secret was put to rest with him.
Hilary grabbed the pistol from her father's nerveless fingers and aimed it at Booker.
"Hilary!" Jessa shouted. "Don't do it!" She was certain Hilary wouldn't get a clear shot Noah and Ross were both tiring, flailing wildly, missing as many blows as they connected. Their bodies were only apart for seconds at a time. Neither man could break away long enough to rise to his feet.
"Give me the pistol, Hilary," Charles pleaded.
Hilary shrugged off the hand her father placed on her forearm. "I want him dead." There were bitter tears in her eyes and the pistol shook in her double-handed grip. "He'll hurt me, Papa," she rasped. "He can hurt me if he lives. He'll tell lies... horrible lies."
Grunting with the force of his efforts, Noah straddled Booker's broad chest, pinning the man's upper arms with his knees. He could hear Hilary's pitiful childlike voice and he knew what she wanted to do. She thought by killing Booker she could save herself. That knowledge angered Noah beyond reason and the anger marshaled his strength. He slammed his fist into Booker's jaw and heard bone crack. It was much later that he realized it was the bones in his own hand. He was only immediately aware that he had finally rendered Ross Booker unconscious.
"Put down the pistol, Hilary," Noah's breathing was harsh, his head bowed as he leaned back and rested his weight on Booker's chest. "It's over," he said tiredly. Noah got to his feet, protecting Booker's limp form by standing in Hilary's line of fire. He approached her slowly and saw her arms waver slightly and her resolve weaken. "Let me have it," he said, forcing himself to be gentle as he watched her carefully. Her beautiful dark blue eyes were glazed and though she was looking at him Noah felt as if she were looking through him. He couldn't guess what she was thinking. "Please, Hilary, give me the weapon."
Hilary lowered the pistol and stifled a sob with the back of One hand. Her eyes shifted to all the occupants of the room, first Booker, then Noah and Jessa, and finally her father. "Oh, God!" she whispered forlornly, tears streaking her face. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!" She turned on her heel and ran from the room and out the front door.
Noah started to follow her but Charles stopped him. "Let her go," he said. "She needs me now. I know I've failed her in the past, but not this time. I'll see her through this."
Noah inclined his head slightly and held out his arm for Jessa as she crossed the room to his side. He embraced her, rubbing his cheek against the corn silk softness of her hair. "I hope you mean that, Charles. She'll need someone to help her face what's ahead. Hilary won't—"
The pistol shot silenced Noah. In his arms he felt Jessa stiffen. Charles Bowen's face sagged and he aged visibly in that moment. None of them shared their thoughts aloud yet they shared the same thought: Hilary had decided not to face her future at all.
Epilogue
May, 1788
"Guilty!"
Jessa bolted upright in bed. "Guilty!" She could hear the pronouncement as clearly in her mind as she had in the courtroom. "Guilty!" Her hands shook and she clasped them around her legs as she drew her knees to her chest. Tiny beads of perspiration formed on her forehead and her stomach knotted with tension. "Guilty!"
She glanced at Noah beside her. He hadn't stirred. The cadence of his breathing remained soft and even. Jessa had an urge to wake him but she quelled it and took comfort from the fact that he could sleep peacefully. It was a statement of sorts, she supposed, that her own fears were unfounded. The voice inside her head was silenced and she listened to the soothing rhythms of water rushing against the hull of the Clarion as the sleek ship cut its path toward home.
Home. It was a wonderfully heady thought. They had been too long in England and painful memories of the trial were not easily dismissed. Jessa welcomed returning to Virginia. She could hardly imagine there had been a time when going to the landing had inspired nothing so much as panic. It seemed a lifetime ago that she had first shared the cabin with Noah. When moonshine lent its pale light to the length of the window seat Jessa could only shake her head in wonderment. Had she once really professed to prefer that bench to sharing Noah's bed? She could scarcely credit it now.
Slipping out of bed, Jessa padded to the wardrobe and took out her dressing gown. She lit a candle, cupping the flame to keep it from bothering Noah, and cast one last glance over her shoulder before opening the door to the adjoining room.
The night was cool but that hadn't stopped Gideon from kicking off his covers. Jessa rearranged the blankets that were bunched at the foot of his bed, oddly disappointed that he didn't wake. She stood over his bed for long moments simply watching him sleep. His perfect little mouth was parted enough to allow room for the tip of his thumb. His dimpled fist pressed against his face, skewing his nose comically to one side. Jessa lightly touched a lock of dark hair that had fallen over his forehead and pushed it back. The backs of her fingers brushed his soft cheek. After a few minutes she moved to the crib where his sister slept. Bethany was curled on her side with only the tip of her fair head showing. Jessa eased the blanket over her daughter's face and lightly traced the shape of one tiny ear with her fingertip.
Jessa never heard Noah's approach, yet moments before he slipped his arms about her waist from behind and rested his chin against the crown of her head, she sensed his presence in the room. She set down the candle and her arms slid over his. Jessa leaned back against his solid strength, hugging him to her. "They're beautiful, aren't they?" she asked. "I never tire of looking at them."
"Hmm. The earl and the little princess," he said, his voice husky with sleep. "One's a blue blood and the other just thinks she is. That's rather unsettling, don't you think, for a man who put his signature to a republican document like the Constitution some eight months ago?"
It seemed he knew precisely what to say to coax a smile from her. "I think we'll all manage to live under the same roof," she said.
"We'll have to. I'm not giving anyone up. What brought you here?"
"I thought I heard one of the children."
Noah's own smile was pressed into the corn silk softness of her hair. He didn't believe her explanation for a moment. "Sweet liar."
Jessa would have liked to take exception to his words but she could not. There was no accusation in his tone, only an endearment. She could only love him more because he knew her so well. "Let's go to bed," she said.
When they were back in their own bed and cuddled warmly under the covers, Noah repeated his earlier question and added another. "Was it a nightmare?"
Jessa's head was cradled in the curve of Noah's shoulder and one of her legs lay with a proprietal air over both of his. "I dreamed of the trial again," she admitted quietly. "
The court's judgment echoed in my head even after I awakened. I kept thinking it was meant for me."
"Oh, Jessa," he said softly, aching for her. "That verdict was for the Penberthys."
"I know. In my head I know it to be true. Sometimes... in my heart... I can't help but feel that I'm at fault."
"The jury didn't think so," he reminded her gently. The trial had been months in preparation and lasted seven days. The jury had had a verdict in twenty minutes.
Jessa shuddered slightly and pressed herself closer to Noah. How differently the outcome would have been if the jury had believed the lies Barbara and Edward Penberthy had used in their defense. When they took the stand they had twisted the facts to suit their purpose, claiming they had hired Ross Booker to bring Gideon safely back to England. Lady Barbara had sounded so convincing that Jessa feared that the jury would forget all the contradictory testimony they had heard earlier from Cam, Ross Booker, and a still-grieving Charles Bowen. "It seems so ironic that Hilary's suicide should have helped discredit the Penberthys," she said sadly. "It was good as an admission that she was involved in something more than simply helping Booker take Gideon back to England."
"I know," Noah said softly, filled with the same regrets as Jessa. He still wondered what he could have done to prevent Hilary from taking her own life. That he could logically absolve himself of responsibility did not always clear his conscience. "But there is no blame to be laid at your door for what Hilary did. Furthermore, I don't think that's what decided the jury."
"You don't?"
He shook his head. "You made the difference, Jessa. The fact that you took the documents from the manor helped prove that you were not abducting Gideon in order to deprive him of his birthright, but to save it for him. Those papers and your testimony satisfied the court as to your intent. You were magnificent in your own defense. We should never have been granted guardianship of Gideon otherwise."
"Do you truly think so?"
"I truly think so," he said. "It helped that Barbara and Edward had never informed anyone when they learned that Gideon was alive. It sealed their fate because it made the jury question their motives. Their silence convicted them as much as anything you said. I suspect that Barbara will find the accommodations in Newgate less than satisfactory. At least Edward and Ross Booker will have each other for company. They deserve each other." Noah stroked Jessa's hair with his fingertips. "It still surprises you that you were believed, doesn't it?"
"I suppose it does," she admitted, shying away from thoughts of Newgate. There had been too many moments when she thought it would become her residence. "I keep expecting to wake and find this reality is but a dream and my nightmares are real. Sometimes I have to assure myself of the truth. That's why I went to see the children."
Noah smiled. "You could have reached for me," he said. "I'm real enough."
"You were sleeping."
"So were they."
"I was rather hoping one of them would wake," she said wistfully. "I wanted a cuddle."
"And I woke instead," he said. "How disappointing for you."
Jessa's arm slid down Noah's chest. She lightly pinched his side. "Actually," she said, "you cuddle better. Gideon squirms and Bethany kicks as much now as she did when I was carrying her."
Noah's hand slid to Jessa's flat abdomen. "She was impatient to be born," he said. Bethany had arrived on a bitterly cold day in February three weeks before she was expected. "It's a miracle she waited until after the trial."
"You have a slightly different recollection of that than I do," she said dryly. "My labor began before the jury retired. Had they deliberated any longer your daughter would have been whelped in the courtroom."
"And as I recall," he said, "you didn't mention a word until after the verdict was in."
"That's not true," she objected. "I whispered to you earlier that I was going to have the baby."
Noah laughed, rolling Jessa on her back and placing a swift kiss on the corner of her mouth. "Madam," he chastised her. "I knew you were going to have a baby. What you neglected to make clear was that you intended to have one then. I've told you before that you have a regrettable penchant for ambiguity."
"I shall strive to do better in the future," she said solemnly. Her arms encircled Noah's neck and she brought his face closer to her own. "I should very much like it if you'd kiss me again."
Noah rewarded her forthrightness. His mouth closed over hers and his tongue teased her lips apart. He felt Jessa's eager response. "You are a contradiction, love," he told her when he lifted his head. Her beautiful gray eyes held his own darkening gaze. "Innocent. Seductive. Shy. Then bold of a sudden."
Jessa laughed and placed a finger to his lips. "You can expound on your theme later, Noah. I want you now."
The tip of Noah's tongue touched her finger and her siren's smile held him captive. She withdrew her hand as he lowered his head. Their mouths touched. Parted. Touched again. Held. The kiss deepened and their hearts thudded in unison until their bodies became as one. They were unselfish in giving pleasure, greedy in taking it, and replete in the aftermath of loving.
Much to Noah's amusement, Jessa fell asleep almost immediately, her body curved against the contours of his. She never heard him whisper that he loved the contradictions in her character. Neither did she hear him enumerate them. The tender smile on her face was there because he held her close, cocooned and protected in the circle of his arms, making her dreams and her reality one and the same.
The End
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Want more from Jo Goodman?
Continue on for an excerpt from
MY STEADFAST HEART
The Thorne Brothers Series
Book One
~
London, October 1820
They came for the baby first. Colin remembered because he was eight—old enough to grasp the loss, too young to prevent it. He had expected it would happen but expectation alone did not prepare him. He had not been able to prepare his brothers.
Not that Greydon could have understood. He was the baby they came for. With his round face and engaging smile it was natural that he would be chosen. Grey had no real knowledge of his circumstances or surroundings, Colin thought. At five months he did not know he already had a family, albeit a smaller one than he had had three months earlier. Young Greydon was all gurgling laughter and chubby, flailing limbs. He charmed without effort and without conscience, as naturally as breathing and eating and crying.
So when Grey sighed contentedly as he was lifted into the woman's arms, Colin tried to remember that it didn't make his baby brother a traitor.
Beside the doorway, just inside the headmaster's office, Colin stood holding his younger brother's hand. Decker was only four but he was willing to stand at Colin's side, his small body at attention while the couple from America made their decision about the baby.
The next minutes were an agony as the headmaster indicated the two boys and asked the question of the couple with careless indifference: "Will you have one or both of the others?” The man turned away from his wife and seemed to notice the boys for the first time. The woman did not glance in their direction.
"They're brothers," the headmaster said. "Colin. Decker. Come here and stand. You will make the acquaintance of Greydon's new parents."
Colin's last hope that the couple would not choose Grey vanished at the headmaster's words. Dutifully he stepped forward, Decker in tow. "How do you do, sir," he said gravely, extending his free hand to the man.
There w
as a surprised pause, then a low, appreciative chuckle from the man as he returned the handshake and greeting. Colin's narrow hand was swallowed in the man's larger one. In later years, try as he might, Colin could not put features to the man's face. It was the dry, firm handshake he remembered, the deep, lilting chuckle, and the momentary surge of hope he felt.
The man looked at his wife who was coaxing another smile from the baby in her arms. It was easy to see she was already in love with the child. There would be no difficulty passing the baby off as their own. No one among their family or friends would have to know it was an adoption.
"I'm afraid not," he said, letting go of Colin's hand. "My wife and I only wanted a baby." Because he was uncomfortable with two pairs of eyes looking up at him he added to the headmaster, "You shouldn't have brought them here. I told you from the first we were only interested in an infant."
The headmaster did not flinch under the rebuke. Instead he deflected it, turning his head sharply toward the boys and ordering them out of the room. His stiff, accusing tone made it seem that their presence in the office had never been his idea at all, but theirs.
Colin released Decker's hand. "It's all right," he said quietly. "You go."
Decker's wide blue eyes darted uncertainly between Colin and the headmaster. It was at Colin's urging, rather than the headmaster's stony glare, that Decker hurried from the room.
"I would like to say farewell to my brother," Colin said. He had a youthful voice, but the dark eyes were old well beyond his years and he stood his ground as though planted there.
The headmaster was prepared to come around his desk and bodily remove Colin. He looked to his guests for some indication of their wishes in the matter.
The man raised his hand briefly in a motion that kept the headmaster at bay. "Of course," he said. "Dear? This child would like to say good-bye to his brother."
With obvious reluctance the woman pulled her attention away from the baby. Her generous smile faded as she looked down at Colin. The dreamy, captivated expression in her blue eyes slipped away. "Oh, no," she said flatly. There was a hint of gray at the outer edge of her eyes, like the beginnings of ice on a lake. "I don't want that boy touching my baby. Look at him. Anyone can see he's sickly. He may harm the child."
