by Shayla Black
Taking a sip of the scalding tea, Gavin winced and set it aside. “Damnation, how can I help you if you refuse to tell me anything?”
“I did not ask for your help.”
“You need it.”
He used the sharp, deep tones of his voice to intimidate her. But Kira refused to succumb.
Instead, she looked at him without a hint of anger. “May I have the sugar?”
Impatiently, he thrust the bowl in her hand. “We’ll find them more quickly if you tell me what you know.”
She disagreed, but tried to keep her reaction from her face. After putting two spoonfuls into her tea, she handed the sturdy bowl back to him without comment.
“You know I’m right,” he added.
Silently, she stirred her tea, blew into the steaming brew to cool it, then took an experimental sip. The countryside here bloomed beautifully in the spring, she thought, gazing out the window. Cornwall held a wild sort of beauty, a quality of lovely that could not be tamed. How interesting—
“You cannot refuse to speak to me whenever you please.”
Gavin sounded quite angry. Kira kept a satisfied smile to herself and remained silent.
“Here we are,” said the innkeeper’s wife as she entered the room again. “Fresh scones and clotted cream. Be certain ye shout at me if ye find yer needin’ more.”
Saints above, she really wished Gavin would leave. Maybe the sturdy woman remembered something about Darius or James—or both. Perhaps she could wait until Gavin retired for the night and approach the woman.
“Mrs. Kerr?” Gavin called to the woman, all charm and smiles.
Pain punched Kira in the stomach. She remembered when Gavin had smiled at her like that, and she’d believed it meant he cared. Now she knew better.
“Aye, Mr. Reeves?”
Gavin had chosen to use his housekeeper’s last name, for which she was grateful. At least she could remember it.
“I wondered if you might remember a gentleman or two who I believe stayed here.”
Kira turned to him with a glare. Lord, she wanted to rip his tongue out. As if he’d known her plan all along, he turned to her with a superior smile.
“I don’t know. We’ve lots of gentlemen passin’ through `ere.”
“I’m certain you do,” Gavin assured her. “Do you, by chance, remember a man named James Howland?”
“Oh, yes. A very nice clergyman. He was here up until a week past. Said he was looking for his fiancé’s brother.”
Kira wanted to breathe a sigh of relief but couldn’t, not until she knew what had happened to him and Darius.
“Indeed, that’s him. Did Mr. Howland say where he planned to travel once he left here?”
Mrs. Kerr frowned, her gray brows nearly knitting together. “No. In fact, he left a few of his things behind and never returned for them. I still have them.”
Gavin turned to her with an alarmed stare. James might be many things, but forgetful wasn’t one of them. Kira clenched her fists tight, trying to ignore the ribbon of alarm winding through her.
“Do you recall the man Mr. Howland was seeking? His name was—”
“Mr. Melbourne? Indeed.” The innkeeper’s wife fanned herself. “He weren’t the kind of man a woman easily forgets, no matter her age. Tall and dark and foreign-looking he was.”
Kira’s stomach leapt. The woman did remember!
“Do you know when he left or where he went?” Gavin asked.
His question held every bit of urgency that Kira herself would have used. Even better, Gavin’s deep tones sounded more commanding.
Mrs. Kerr responded with a shake of her head. “He asked me a bushel of questions about a nobleman new to the area, stayed for a day or two, then disappeared. He left money behind to pay his bill, but slipped out in the middle of the night.” She shrugged. “I figured he needed to go to his sister, the way he carried on about `er.”
Kira’s heart swelled with love and longing. Dear God, let Darius be safe. Let he and James both be safe, in fact. Worry drenched her soul until she thought she might cry right there in front of Gavin and the innkeeper’s wife.
“The nobleman,” he said, “what was his name?”
“That would be Lord Vance.” She smoothed her hands down the front of her wide, spotless apron. “He’s a charming sort, I suppose. Recently let Fentlet Manor, not far from here. It’s been vacant for nigh on ten years, so imagine our surprise when a London gent takes up residence and says he’s looking for a place to settle away from the bustle.”
Kira frowned. Lord Vance had said much the same thing when he’d let Benhollow Hall in Suffolk this past winter.
“Is Lord Vance still in residence?” she asked the woman.
“Aye, as far as I know, though my sister’s oldest girl works as a maid for `im and says she heard from his valet that he plans another trip to London soon. Family business.” The broad woman nodded her squatty head, as if that explained everything.
“Of course,” Gavin returned smoothly. “Would you mind telling us how to find this Fentlet Manor?”
“Aye. I’ll even have me mister draw ye a map.”
* * * *
The following morning, Kira awoke early, at least an hour before the sun, and dressed in dark clothing with all haste. Gavin may have kept the map to Fentlet Manor in his possession, but she had a fine memory, one that enabled her to recall every word of Mr. Kerr’s directions. A woman alone might find it easier to navigate the grounds. Perhaps she could pray Lord Vance did not see her and pretend to inquire about a post in the house, see if the servants knew anything of Darius. It was worth a try.
Kira crept down the hall and descended the creaky stairs, wincing with every noise she made. If she wasn’t careful, she would wake Gavin. He would insist on coming with her. Granted, his help might be beneficial, and she would feel safer with him by her side. But she simply didn’t want to deal with him. She was a grown, intelligent woman. Why shouldn’t she search for her own brother and fiancé? No reason at all. After all, they were lost because of her.
How she wished she had never met Lord Vance—or believed a word the slithering snake uttered to her.
The common room was still and cold when she passed through, though a light from an adjoining room, likely the kitchen, told her someone was awake. Treading carefully for the door, Kira looked over her shoulder once, well, perhaps more than once, to see if Gavin followed.
Nothing.
Lightened by her confidence, she tiptoed a bit more quickly toward the door, opened it just enough to slip out, then eased it shut behind her.
The morning chill was both damp and brutal. The wind swept across the moors here without relent. Though spring had sprung in London, and the temperatures accordingly, it had not reached mornings in this distant outpost from civilization.
Huddling into her cloak, she raced for the stables, praying this was the day she found Darius and James, the day she could breathe easily again, certain the villain who had ruined her good name had not also killed her brother. The day she and James could set a wedding date and she could forget the cad who had ruined her.
Kira did her best to shake off thoughts of Gavin. But when she flung open the stable door, he made that impossible.
Gavin stood in the stable, saddling his horse, sporting freshly-brushed hair that gleamed in the lamp light and a smug smile. He looked well dressed and well rested, and she resented him because she felt neither of those things herself.
“I expected you at least a quarter hour ago,” he drawled. “Oversleep, did you?”
Without a word, Kira stepped around him. When she would have passed him by altogether to reach her mare, he grabbed her arm and pulled her against him.
His fingers corded around her with warmth and steel. Her gaze flew up to his face. He wasn’t angry, but he was deadly determined. And she found the familiar angles of his handsome face impossible to ignore.
“Let’s understand each other. James is a part of my family, jus
t as Darius is a part of yours. You know something I don’t. Therefore, I will be as close as your shadow until we determine what happened to them.”
The dark-eyed determination he speared her with told Kira he was neither kidding nor bluffing. He really intended to remain by her side until this ordeal had ended.
And that was bad. Having him so near only reminded her of their time together. Kira knew she could not trust him, but nor could she deny that her body—and her heart—yearned for him. His eyes held something dangerous as well. Heat. She recognized the expression. Gavin had looked like this before he kissed her that first time. She feared she understood all too well what was going through his mind. It was going through hers.
That, she could not allow.
Kira jerked her arm from his grasp. “If I give you the truth, will you go away?”
“No. This is a dangerous pursuit of a treacherous man. You need protection.”
While she began to wonder if Gavin didn’t have a valid point, she had no intention of admitting it. Instead, she thrust her nose in the air and walked past the stubborn man to the stall that held her horse.
He stood and watched her as she saddled the tall beast, not offering to help. Nor would she have accepted his assistance, so it made no difference anyway.
An hour into their silent journey, her stomach began to rumble. Kira frowned at herself. Why hadn’t she thought to bring anything to break her fast?
Her stomach protested its empty state again, this time loudly. She resolved to ignore it.
Gavin laughed. “Forget something?”
She snapped as if she’d just remembered an important fact. “Yes, those directions to hell I meant to give you.”
His long, low-toned laugh only irritated her more. But he turned and tossed her two of Mrs. Kerr’s heavenly scones. She caught them in thankful silence, then bit into one with a moan.
“You’re welcome,” he murmured.
Kira ignored him after that. She didn’t need him to care for her. Yes, she had been hungry, but she could have found her own breakfast somehow. He needn’t have acted as if she was helpless.
Glaring at his back, another hour passed. Finally Fentlet Manor crested into view. Happily situated in a wide valley, a small inlet bordered the house to the west, which one could cross with a charming cobblestone bridge. The gardens were both extensive and overgrown. While the house itself needed a bit of work to repair a sagging column and crumbling plaster, it was in every other way idyllic. She could see why even a man of Lord Vance’s dubious character could be persuaded to settle here, if that was in fact his plan.
Gavin and Kira approached the house. Within a hundred yards of it, a pair of stout men on horseback rode out to meet them. As they drew closer, Kira let out a sigh of relief that they weren’t the same henchmen Vance had employed in Suffolk.
“This is private property,” said one with a snarl. He had an unfortunate scar that ran from the underside of his nose all the way through his lip. Whatever injury he’d endured had been painful.
“Unless ye have business with the earl, get ye gone,” said the other.
Gavin sat up straight and assumed his most noble demeanor. “I am the Duke of Cropthorne. I am acquainted with his lordship and have come to visit.”
The pair exchanged glances. “`is lordship gave no mention of ye.”
“It is quite by chance that I find myself here. And when I heard that he is in residence, I thought perhaps—”
“Come with us,” Scar-lip growled, casting them a suspicious glance.
They did as they were bid. Within minutes, Kira and Gavin found themselves inside the house, through the foyer, into a parlor. When the door shut behind them, Kira studied the room they occupied. Thought it was sparsely furnished, Kira recognized the purple velvet sofa from the house Vance had let in Suffolk.
Silence ensued. This wasn’t her plan at all. She’d thought to break into the house or perhaps bribe his servants for information. Never had she imagined they would simply request an audience and walk through the door.
“Why are we here?” she whispered.
“We’ve asked to speak with Lord Vance.”
Was he dense? “Yes, and once he sees me, he will say nothing of his activities, whatever they may be.”
“He won’t see us.”
“Then why are we here?” She frowned, confused.
Treading quietly toward the door, Gavin cracked it open and peered outside. Whatever he saw must have satisfied him, for he approached her on equally silent feet.
When he reached her side, the warmth and musky scent of him invaded her senses. Goosebumps erupted on her arms. The hair at the back of her neck prickled with awareness. The glance he sent her told Kira that he knew how she felt.
Why was she so attuned to him? He had believed her the worst sort of tart and ruined her. Even with proof to the contrary, he still refused to marry her. She should not care one iota about him.
But she did, Worse, she could not seem to stop. Those heart-stopping smiles of his, coupled with his kind words and caring when she’d been insulted and accused by Lady Becker, Lady Westland, and their kind still resonated with her. Despite evidence to the contrary, she could scarcely believe it had all been a lie.
“Search the room,” Gavin whispered. “Search it well, every book, every table, every nook of that ugly purple sofa. And do it fast. We only have a few minutes.”
Kira suddenly understood his intent and nodded. She’d never done anything clandestine. What if they were caught?
“What am I looking for?”
“Anything incriminating.”
Gavin regarded her with stony eyes. His grip around her arm tightened. “Be careful.”
She nodded.
He released her and walked away. Kira scurried after him. “Where are you going?”
“To find his study. I’ll be back.”
“But—”
With a wave of his hand he silenced her. Again, he crept to the door and cracked it, gazing out into the hall. An instant later, he disappeared, closing the door behind him with a near silent click.
Kira stood, staring at the white width of the door, her heart pounding. Lord Vance was a very dangerous sort. What if Gavin were caught? What if Lord Vance entered this parlor?
She’d deal with it. She really had no choice. But Lord, was she scared.
Exhaling a shaky breath, she scanned the room and began searching everywhere Gavin had told her and beyond. She found nothing incriminating—or anything at all beyond a few pieces of lint and a farthing.
Finally, Gavin returned. He’d probably been gone less than ten minutes, but to Kira it had seemed hours she’d worried about him. Yes, she was furious with Gavin, but she could not deny that she did not want to see him killed. Without thought, she rushed to his side and latched onto his arm.
He looked at her, at the hands she wrapped around his arm. Without hesitation, he shifted her into his embrace, the flats of their bellies and the warmth of their chests meeting. Kira didn’t understand why she should feel so joined to a man who did not love or respect her enough to offer her the honor of marriage. What was wrong with her?
“Did something happen?” he asked.
“No. Did you find anything?” She was conscious of the pounding of her heart. Whether from the peril or his nearness, she did not want to guess.
“A letter he began yesterday but did not finish. It’s addressed to Mrs. Linde.”
“The brothel owner?” she asked, remembering Gavin asking the same question once.
He shrugged.
“What does it say?”
“We can’t take the time to read it here. Let’s go.”
Nodding, she followed. At the front door, the surprisingly young butler met them in the foyer, his vivid green eyes giving away nothing. “Lord Vance is not at home, your grace.”
“Ah. It’s just as well, for I suddenly remembered another engagement. I am staying at the Tall Tree Inn, however. If his l
ordship has a moment to spare, perhaps he would like to drop in and visit.”
The fine-looking man bowed his head, showing a full head of close-cropped brown hair. His full mouth betrayed no smile. “I shall tell him, your grace.”
With that, they exited the manor and left.
Kira waited until they crested the first rise before she asked, “Why did you tell Lord Vance where to find us? What if he comes after us?”
Gavin regarded her with a calculating gleam in his eyes. “I’ll wager he will do just that. I suspect he will pay us a visit soon, in some form or fashion.”
She frowned. “It—it sounds like you’re expecting danger.”
Before he answered, Gavin withdrew the letter he’d filched from Lord Vance’s office. As he skimmed the few words on the page, his scowl deepened.
“What does the missive say?” she asked, leaning closer to read it for herself. There were precious few words on the page, and she wasn’t close enough to read any of them.
Gavin frowned. “He tells Mrs. Linde that he has two of the goods she seeks, rather than the one she requested.”
“Goods? That could mean anything.”
“Yes, but I have a very bad feeling about this. Vance is dealing in stolen wares of some kind.” Gavin cursed. “And he’s going to want to finish this letter soon, perhaps within hours. So am I expecting danger? Indeed, I am.”
Chapter Fourteen
As Gavin predicted, it was not long before Lord Vance realized his correspondence was missing and sent someone after it.
The afternoon swept the sky in a brilliant azure, chased by a lazy breeze. It gave way to a crisp blue-black night filled with twinkling stars.
Kira retired to her small room chamber at the Tall Tree Inn. The soft yellow walls and pegged wood floor combined with the dancing fire to warm the evening shadows.
Midnight had come and gone. Moss scented Kira’s downy bed, and on any other night she would have slept easily, blissfully. Tonight, she wished for a book to distract her from the fact Gavin lay just feet away, on the other side of their tiny, adjoining parlor, believing the worst about her even as she pined for his love. His low opinion hurt Kira, but she had no notion how to change it.
