Near the Ruins of Penharrow (A Cornish Romance Book 3)

by Deborah M. Hathaway

  She turned her head so he could no longer see her expression. “That be wonderful, sir.”

  Her voice hardly sounded above the waves. “It was. We spoke of how we could improve the mine. We’ve also created a plan…to…”

  He stopped as Gwynna swiped her cheek with a flick of her hand. Was she hiding tears?

  He was at her side in an instant, a hand on her shoulder. “What is it? Have I said something to upset you?”

  She paced back, his arm falling limply to his side. “No, sir.”

  Jack’s stomach tightened. She didn’t wish for him to touch her? “May I ask why you call me ‘sir’ again?”

  She wouldn’t look at him, no matter how far he leaned to the side. “It be better this way, if this be the last time we be seein’ each other, sir.”

  He gave a mirthless chuckle, hoping she teased. “Is this your way of telling me you are going somewhere?”

  “No, sir, but our relationship, our-our speakin’ needs to end this evenin’.”

  His smile slid away. “You are serious?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I…I don’t understand. Why now? Is it your parents? Did they find out about…”

  His words trailed off as she shook her head. “No, sir. ‘Tis me own choice. We ought not have formed a relationship to begin with. We be too different to even have a friendship, so what do it matter if we end things now?”

  He shook his head. How had his evening taken such a dreadful turn?

  “I don’t understand, Gwynna. We—”

  “Ye don’t need to understand to accept what be happenin’, sir. Ye be leavin’ anyway, so what do it matter that I be sayin’ these things?”

  “Why?” He blew out a disbelieving breath. “I was coming here tonight to tell you I—” He broke off himself. Could he share his feelings? Could he be vulnerable again? “I am considering remaining in Cornwall for longer. To help Father and the mine. And to help you.”

  Her frown faltered, but she quickly turned away. “Why prolong your leavin’? I don’t need ‘elp. Ye may as well return now to your gamblin’, drinkin’, and…and women.”

  Jack flinched at the cruel words. How could she say such things, after he’d expressed how difficult it had been to overcome his vices? “That is hardly fair. You know I’ve been striving to be better, to leave behind my past and—”

  She interrupted with a derisive laugh. “Leave behind?”

  He longed to remain unguarded, but her words stung. “Do you not believe in my desire to change, to improve?”

  She didn’t respond. Gwynna’s goodness and confidence in him had been the very thing to spur him on to be better. What was he to do without her faith in him? And what had happened to have produced the cruelty he’d never witnessed in her before?

  Was she simply frightened by his past? The things he’d shared with her? Is that why she hadn’t wished to speak to him earlier and was avoiding him now?

  His voice hardened. “I am not perfect, Gwynna. I have my faults, like we all do. But contrary to your belief, I have changed. It was you who helped—”

  “I saw ye!”

  Confusion creased his brow. “What? What do you—”

  “Kissin’ Miss Paxton in town.”

  As her words slowly sunk in, a blush crept across his cheeks.

  “Kiss Miss Paxton? I…” He shook his head. “Were you following me?”

  Red raced across her own cheeks then. “I saw ye sneakin’ down the alleyway.” She swiftly blinked away her brimming tears, continuing in a softer tone. “But it don’t matter, sir. We have no understandin’ ‘tween us. Ye can kiss any number o’ girls, as ye clearly wish to do.”

  What a fool Jack was, thinking Gwynna might actually trust in him enough to understand that he was changing. He rubbed his jaw, desperate to relieve the tension that shouldn’t even be there.

  Because he did not kiss Amy. Yes, she’d admitted her love to him in the middle of town, desperate to do so while her brother was occupied down the street with another woman.

  But Jack had pulled her down the alleyway for privacy, to gently inform her he could not return her love. Amy had then attempted to prove her feelings with a kiss, but Jack had refused as kindly as he could with a turn of his head before any contact between them could be made.

  He couldn’t kiss her, not when Amy was like a sister to him. Not when he wanted…to kiss someone else. But of course Gwynna would expect the worst from him. Why wouldn’t she when everyone else did?

  “So even after all we’ve been through together, you still believe that of me? That I wish to drink and gamble? To kiss other women?”

  She sniffed. “What do it matter what I think of ye, sir? Ye will do what ye wish and kiss who ye wish. That be the way of a gent, I s’pose.”

  He gritted his teeth. “Especially this gentleman?”

  She said nothing in response.

  So she did not believe in him. Even after his apologies, his attempts to respect her, to avoid speaking with her at the mine for her sake. Even after he’d not kissed her when they’d both desired it. She still thought him to be the blackguard she’d first met, the man who cared little about anyone but himself.

  Any control, any patience he might have had slipped from his fingertips. With deliberate steps, he advanced on her. “Thank heavens you were able to decipher my behavior before we became too attached.”

  Uncertainty flickered in her eyes, but she maintained a firm footing. “It do be a good thing.”

  He reached her, grasping onto her arms, anger pulsing through his veins. “Then I suppose I am still the same man in your eyes. A blackguard out for one thing. Once I receive it, I leave one woman for the next. Isn’t that right, Gwynna?”

  His words had once been true. But now, he hadn’t even been given the chance to prove that he was finished with those games, that he was not the same man he was before meeting Gwynna.

  “I suppose that be right, sir.”

  His eyes dropped to her lips. “So do you expect that now? For me to kiss you and leave you, just as I did with Miss Paxton?”

  Tears clung to her lashes, but he would not feel remorse for his words when sorrow was the very thing that brought him to this point in his life.

  Gwynna didn’t respond. He leaned close to her, a mere breath away from her lips.

  As angry as he was, as greatly as he desired to prove her words right, to taste her lips once before he left Cornwall forever…he couldn’t do it.

  He respected her too much.

  Abruptly, he dropped his hands and took a step back, leaving her teetering on her feet.

  “I did not kiss Miss Paxton,” he spat out, “and if you had any faith in me, you’d know that.”

  With a final shake of his head, he stalked away from the mine. The hollow beating of his heart mimicked his boots that thudded angrily on the pathway, his route barely visible as dusk captured Cornwall in its grip.

  He’d return for his horse later, once Gwynna left. He was too angry, too hurt to face her again.

  In truth, he didn’t blame her for expecting the worst from him, especially with how his behavior with Miss Paxton must have appeared, but her lack of faith in him was excruciating.

  “Sir!”

  He flinched at her voice but blazed onward. He didn’t want to hear the apology she would no doubt share with him. Because afterward, she was sure to tell him all the reasons they couldn’t prolong their relationship. He didn’t want to hear such reasons. He wanted to hear…

  “Jack, please!”

  She’d used his name. How could he continue ignoring her? He turned to face her, watching as she stopped a few paces away from him.

  She stared up at him, her chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. She swallowed, seeming to hesitate before finally speaking. “I-I believe ye.”

  His wary frown remained. Was she saying so just to appease him?

  “If ye say ye didn’t kiss her, then I believe ye.”

  He could s
ay nothing, the pain still coursing through him. But she believed him. That had to mean something, didn’t it?

  She shook her head helplessly as she continued, tears streaking down her cheeks, their trails glowing in the growing light of the moon. “I didn’t know what to think when I saw ye with her. I’d hoped ye didn’t kiss her. But I didn’t think it possible for ye to deny a kiss from a beautiful lady, as ye so easily resisted kissin’ me.”

  “Easily?” He blew out a breath of disbelief. Rubbing his fingers to his eyes, he willed away the image of the beautiful woman standing before him. “Gwynna, not kissing you was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”

  * * *

  Chills rushed over Gwynna’s body, as if a sudden blast of cold wind knocked the life back into her person.

  Jack’s brow wrinkled with emotion as he approached her, one slow step at a time.

  “I didn’t kiss you to prove my respect. I kept my distance, to ensure my regard for you was held in the highest of standards.”

  Her breathing faltered. Could this be true?

  “Don’t you dare believe for a single moment that I did not wish to kiss you.” He stopped in front of her, his voice husky. “For I have thought of little else but your lips on mine since the last time we stood together at Penharrow.”

  She swallowed, still reeling at his words. “I’ve done the very same, sir…Jack.”

  His eyes flashed between hers then settled on her lips. Softly, he caressed her cheek. “Then we are at a crossroads, Gwynna. We are of different classes, different circumstances. We must now decide to end this before it has begun…or to power the fire burning between us.”

  Gwynna could no longer deny his words. There was a fire between them, but it wasn’t simply physical desire. Her whole soul yearned for his.

  His thumb smoothed over her lips. “So what will it be? I shall not proceed until I know your desires.”

  How could she make such a decision when her head was spinning? When his lips were so close to hers, she could only imagine their touch?

  “I don’t know what to do,” she answered honestly.

  He pulled back, focusing on her eyes. His throat bobbed up and down as he swallowed.

  “But I do know,” she continued, “that I ain’t be wantin’ this to end.”

  He released a deep, trembling breath at her words. Raising his shoulders, he cupped her face in his hands, hovering just out of reach until finally, her eyelashes fluttered to a close, and their lips met.

  Gwynna was overpowered. She could hardly breathe, despite the slow tenderness of Jack’s kiss. She wrapped her arms around him, her hands at his back. The muscles worked near his shoulders as he secured her face between his hands.

  How often had she dreamt of this moment, wrapped so securely in his affection. It was everything she’d ever hoped it would be. If she knew before what she did now—how utterly intoxicating his lips on hers was—she would have never been able to say no as she had so readily at the ball.

  He tipped his head to the side, their kiss deepening as his hands left her face, trailing down her arms, pressing against her back, and pulling her flush against his body. Gwynna readily responded, standing on the tips of her toes to wrap her arms around his neck as his mouth worked alongside hers to share the feelings that had blossomed between them.

  The wind toyed the yellow gorse bushes beside them, tapping them against her skirts, and the breeze whistled in her ear. All was silent apart from the rustling foliage and roaring of the waves below. They were alone on the cliffside. They were the only two people left in existence, as far as Gwynna was concerned.

  But should someone happen upon them…

  “Jack,” she mumbled against his lips, pulling back, “s’pose we be seen—”

  Her words ended in a surprised yelp as Jack swooped her up in his arms. He strode down the pathway as she giggled. Wrapping her right arm around his neck and placing her left hand against his cheek, she brought his lips toward hers for another kiss.

  A deep moan rumbled in his chest, his jaw working against her palm until he pulled away with a chuckle. “We had better stop before I fall to the ground.”

  She smiled. As he carried her swiftly toward the ruins, she rested her head against his, breathing in his musky cologne until they reached the engine house. Jack stepped over the threshold of the old bucking room then lowered her feet to the ground.

  Gwynna had only a moment to situate herself before Jack took her lips to his once more. He slowly urged her across the room, pressing her against the wall. His fingers trailed down her neck, brushing against her collar bones, though never straying past propriety.

  Their lips moved as one in perfect harmony, just as their lives had somehow done since they’d met those few weeks before. How could so much have happened in so short a time?

  And how had she allowed herself to fall in love with the mine owner’s son?

  Gwynna didn’t know how long their kiss lasted, but when Jack’s lips slowly parted from hers, the sun had fully disappeared, and darkness surrounded them. She could only detect a few features of Jack’s face as he stared down at her.

  He brushed back her hair from her brow, resting his forehead on hers. “I have never felt such a way before, as I have just now, kissing you.”

  Gwynna closed her eyes, willing herself to remember the feeling of his touch, his proximity, her love for him. “Nor ‘ave I.”

  But then, what did that mean coming from Jack? Could he possibly love her in return? And if he did…then what?

  She tried to maintain hold of the perfect euphoria around them, but it faded away like the setting sun, and the darkness of reality began to settle around them.

  They had kissed. They’d both felt something for each other, she knew that. So what did that mean for their relationship?

  She sighed, shaking her head against his. There shouldn’t even be a relationship between them. She was a bal maiden, for heaven’s sake. What was she doing kissing this gentleman? Did she expect him to fall in love with her in return? To drop to his knees and beg for her hand?

  Even if such a ridiculous thing occurred, they would never be able to make a marriage work between them.

  “Jack, what…what are we to do now?”

  He was silent for a moment. “I do not know. But what I do know is that…Is that there is something between us. Something that can no longer be ignored.”

  He pulled back, their eyes catching in the darkness. What was he suggesting? Not marriage, surely. How would that work between their two vastly different worlds?

  “Then what do ye suggest, Jack?”

  He slipped his arms around her, pulling her up against him and eyeing her lips. “I suggest we allow our troubles to melt away for a moment more.”

  She licked her upper lip in anticipation. She couldn’t refuse his suggestion, especially when their lips met again and Gwynna’s worries slipped from her grasp as her heart swirled with love.

  “Trevethan!”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Gwynna tore away from Jack’s embrace with a gasp. Father stood in the doorway, feet planted apart, eyes flaming brighter than the lantern he held aloft.

  “Papa?” Shock usurped the feeling in her limbs.

  Papa placed his lantern on the ground, his gaze unyielding at Jack. “Ye get away from me daugh’er!”

  His command reached every inch of the hut, dust falling from the rafters in a grimy shower.

  He progressed toward them with a roar.

  “Papa, no!”

  It was too late. With a cocked fist, he reared back and delivered a blow to Jack’s jaw.

  “No!” Gwynna screamed.

  Jack stumbled back a few paces, ultimately falling to the ground.

  “Papa, stop!”

  She ran to her father, holding his arm to prevent him from distributing another sound strike. “Ye can’t do this to ‘im!”

  “I ‘ave every right!” Papa growled, still glowering at Jack. “Ye slock
me own daugh’er to come here in the dead o’ night. I’ll get ye!”

  Jack rose to his feet, shoulders raised, hands fisted. Blood trailed from the side of his mouth, dripping from his chin to his waistcoat.

  Father took an abrupt step toward him, but Jack didn’t flinch.

  “No, I chose to come of me own accord, Father!”

  Gwynna stood between the two of them, pressing a hand to Papa’s chest, praying Jack would have the sense to not fan the flames of fury within her father.

  “You must believe me, sir,” Jack said. “I had no ill intentions where your—”

  “Giss on!” Father said through clenched teeth. “Ye be lathered to ‘igh ‘eaven and dafter than mud if ye think I believe the likes of ye!”

  “Father, stop!” she pleaded, looking over her shoulder as Jack’s scowl increased. The red on his cheekbone from Papa’s strike screamed pain.

  Desperate to end the situation before another, worser blow could be dealt, Gwynna fully faced Papa with a soft tone. “I’ll go home with ye now, Papa. We can speak o’ this on the morrow when—”

  “Have ye no honor?” Papa continued, ignoring Gwynna’s begging. “Have ye no respect? Do ye not know what this might do to her? Ye’d sully her without a second thought and tear we, her family, apart. Your father—your mother—would be ashamed!”

  Gwynna winced, turning a pained look to Jack. Fury flashed in his eyes as he swiped the blood from his mouth, angry red streaks now on his sleeve.

  “Papa, no more,” she whispered, pressing against his chest. She couldn’t bear another unkind word spoken to the man she loved. “Please, let us be leavin’ now.”

  Papa’s voice dropped to a dangerous level, his finger pointing directly at Jack. “Ye don’t deserve me daugh’er. If I see ye anywhere near her again, I ain’t stoppin’ at a single blow.”

  A chill slid down Gwynna’s spine. Never had Father spewed such threats, never had his eyes burned with such fury. Had she truly upset him so greatly?

  “Please, Father,” she attempted one more time, grasping his hand to pull him away and reaching for the lantern with the other.

  Finally, he dropped his pointed finger then left hand-in-hand with Gwynna, snatching the lantern from her grasp and leading the way from the hut.