Her hands trembled by her sides as Grandfather stormed out. She started for the door without looking when Tabitha burst through with her mutt in her arms.
“Sarah, I’m so glad I found you.” Tabitha blew her still loose blonde hair from her face. “I just found Rory in the attic. He’s bleeding.”
Sarah met Tabitha’s gaze, her eyes full of genuine concern. She took the dog from her and held him close. Her eyes closed as she whispered, “Thank ye, Jesus.” She cradled the animal to her as she addressed Tabitha. “Ye go on and finish getting’ dressed while I treat his wounds with some a me herbs. Can ye manage without me while I take care of the dog?”
Tabitha’s blue eyes were still moist. “I can dress myself. Do you think he’ll be ok?” She nodded toward her dog, Rory.
Sarah smiled. “Aye. He’ll be just fine once he be treated with me herbs. That and a bit a rest. He will be up and ‘bout in na time.”
Sarah walked out the door with dog in arms. Gareth heard her whispering what sounded like, “I love ye so much. Ye had me comin’ out me skin with worry.”
Gareth started on his eggs when he noticed Tabitha watching him. He set down his fork. “What?”
Tabitha grinned. “Congratulations.”
Gareth rolled his eyes. “Oh that. Congratulations to you and your future as an American.”
“I think Jessamine is perfect for you. You have a very good chance at happiness with her.”
He waved his hands toward her in a shooing gesture. “Would you go and let me eat in peace? Talking about my intended is making me lose my appetite.”
Tabitha shook her head as she made her way out, closing the door behind her.
***
Gareth wheeled himself up the ramp to Mr. Strong’s door and knocked. There wasn’t any answer, so he knocked again. Still no answer. Gareth was about to turn his chair around and leave when he noticed a smudge on the door frame. A red-brown thumbprint. Blood.
Memories of the night before flashed before his eyes. The blood in the forest. Mr. Strong’s house lit up in the middle of the night. Gareth’s eyes darted, and he made sure no one was watching. Then he flew from his chair and backed away from the door, just before flying at it with his shoulder. He bumped into the door and fell back against his chair. He shot up, away, and did it again. This time the door gave.
Gareth flew in and stopped. Right in the middle of the floor was a pool of blood. Gareth glanced around and noticed the desk, chair, and cupboard were all overturned. Papers and swords littered the floor.
Gareth flew to the kitchen. “Mr. Strong?” he called as loud as he could. The kitchen chairs had been turned over and much of the countertop items scattered. He flew for the bedroom and pushed the door open. The mattress lay bare. Not even a sheet or blanket.
Gareth hovered around the house. His many thoughts rushed through his mind in a jumble. Where was Mr. Strong? Was that his blood? Was Mr. Strong involved in the attempt on his life? He shook his head at the idea. The man had plenty of chances to kill him during swordplay.
But he was quite skilled in swords. Perhaps he knew archery, as well. Or was Mr. Strong a victim, caught up in the middle of this? Maybe he had tangled with whoever had tried to kill Gareth last night? Had the old man been tortured and murdered for knowing him?
Panic rose and his heart raced. Gareth flew out to the porch and shut the door before getting in his chair and heading back to the manor, posthaste.
There would be a wedding in a few days. If he could just make sure Tabitha and Grandfather stayed safe until then, they would leave and be away from whatever was going on. Then there would only be Jessamine, Sarah, and Thompton. Sarah and Thompton would be easy. He’d fire them. With no servants and a grouch for a husband, surely Jessamine would be back to America in a hurry.
He pushed the wheels harder. The rocks and loose dirt crunched as he rolled over them.
But there was still the question of why someone tried to kill Gareth and why the assassin seemed to have the ability to fly. Why could Gareth fly? He knew the answer was connected to his mother and Scotland somehow. He’d have to arrange a trip there to find out more about the Fae and where his mother came from.
Gareth wheeled into the house through the back kitchen entrance. Rory was on a pallet resting. The side where he’d been bleeding earlier sported an herbal poultice.
Gareth reached down and petted the mutt. “Looks like you had a rough night, too.”
The dog whined.
“I’m sorry you were hurt. Did the archer attack you? Is no one I keep company with safe? Not even the dog?”
Gareth’s gut wrenched at the thought of whatever had become of Mr. Strong. Was there any chance the man still lived? Gareth had to hope. He couldn’t bear the thought of the man dead. But what of the amount of blood at his house?
Nausea rolled over Gareth at the pictures in his imagination. What had become of Mr. Strong?
Bile rose again. Gareth clamped his hand over his mouth and made his way back to the door. He was sick in a patch of grass. It wasn’t just the remembrance of the pooled blood but the stress of it all. He needed to figure all this out. On his own. There was no one he could share this with. Jessamine was the only other person who knew about the archer, but she wasn’t someone he could confide in. How would Grandfather react if he was told? Tabitha was leaving for a happy life in America. Why bring her down into it?
Gareth wiped his mouth and made his way back to the house. Rory stared at him, a look of sympathy in the dog’s eyes.
“I’m all right boy. You just rest and heal. No need burdening you with my problems either.”
Gareth made his way to the stairs where he listened for any stirring. Only the ticking of the grandfather clock broke the silence. He took the chance and flew up the stairs to his room. Once inside, he made his way to his trunk and pulled out the claymore. He slashed it overhead, spinning and turning as he went. He took his practice to the air. It still felt heavy in his hands. If he was at war, he needed to be battle ready for his next flight out.
Chapter 9
Gareth stood in front of the mirror in his chamber, preparing for dinner. He had sent word that he would take dinner in his room but Grandfather had quickly denied his request. Grandfather ordered Gareth to join the party for dinner and expected him to help entertain their guests. Gareth struggled with his cravat as he glared at it in the mirror. An expletive escaped under his breath as he tried to tie it again. He had more important things on his mind, like how to protect everyone associated with him. Entertaining the annoying Americans only added to his stress.
Where was Mr. Strong? Was he already dead? The old man was never far from Gareth’s thoughts. It gnawed at his gut, keeping him on the edge of retching his stomach’s contents again. Was the old man being tortured for information at that very moment—information he didn’t have. Guilt at what might be happening to Mr. Strong twisted his insides further into a knot. The old man was probably already dead.
Regardless of his grandfather’s demands, Gareth contemplated refusing to join the dinner party. He had no appetite and didn’t think he’d find it by dinner.
Who was the flying attacker and from where had he come? Should he attack again, how would Gareth guard everyone at Waverly Park? The weight of being the household’s sole protector pushed down on him. It felt so heavy he could barely stand with it on his shoulders. If only he could confide in Tabitha, but she was heading to her new life very soon so he might as well get used to being utterly alone.
Argh. He ripped the stupid, frivolous fabric from around his neck. Tabitha usually tied them for him. Another reminder of all that he faced.
A gentle knock sounded at the door.
Gareth wadded the cravat into a crumpled mess and threw it across the room. “To hell with you!”
The door opened. “‘Come in,’ is what we say in America. You’ll have to help me with English etiquette when we entertain guests or I’ll get it all wrong for sure.” The melodic voice swept into the r
oom uninvited, just like its owner. Jessamine shut the door behind her and blinked at Gareth. “You’re standing?”
“Here it is customary to wait until granted entrance before barging into a room. I might have been indecent.” Gareth continued facing forward, choosing to glare at her from his reflection while keeping his back to her. “And yes, I can stand. I simply cannot walk.”
Jessamine padded across the floor in slippered feet, heading for Gareth. “I just wanted to have a talk with you before dinner. There’s something I think I should tell you.” Jessamine’s dark eyes widened as she noticed the cravat on the floor. Her pink dress rustled as she bent to retrieve it. Her décolletage was a bit lower he’d seen, as was customary for evening dresses. Still respectable, but the combined effect of her corset and her bending allowed Gareth to steal a view of her womanly endowments. He had to glance away so he could think and remember why he didn’t want her around.
“Miss Keller, it really isn’t proper for you to be in my chamber with the door closed. I suggest that whatever you need to say can wait until we are at dinner or in one of the common rooms with an open door.”
Jessamine continued on her path to Gareth, stepping between him and the mirror. Her floral scent replaced the air as he breathed. His mind felt as if he’d had too much to drink when she stood so close. The warmth of her body radiated from her and the memory of holding her rushed in, making his hands want to reach for her. Gareth cleared his throat. “Miss Keller, please leave before your father discovers you here.”
Jessamine reached up and placed the cravat around Gareth’s neck, bringing her face just inches from his as she stretched up on her toes. Her large, dark eyes teased him, and she smiled. “And what will he do if he finds us here? Force a hasty marriage upon us?”
Gareth returned a stern look at her comment.
Jessamine giggled as she arranged Gareth’s cravat and straightened his collar. “I’m sorry, but what I need to tell you is of the utmost importance and isn’t for other ears. I know you aren’t pleased with this match between us. I’m hoping that in time you might soften toward me. But it will never happen if we keep secrets from each other.” Her eyes no longer teased as she looked up at Gareth. “Last night I went out for a walk after everyone was in bed. My reasons were twofold. I wanted to share the good news of our engagement with my cousin—”
“Good news indeed,” Gareth interrupted.
Jessamine pursed her lips but continued. “Anyway, my second purpose…I was hoping to get a glimpse of the Flying Knight. I failed at the first reason, but…I did more than succeed in the other.”
Gareth hadn’t expected this confession and wasn’t sure how to respond. He forced what he hoped looked like an expression of disbelief. “You saw the Flying Knight? Are you certain it wasn’t a bat?” He raised one eyebrow in mocking disbelief for effect.
Jessamine’s hands went to her hips. “You don’t believe me?” Her lips parted in a look of astonishment.
“I think it’s preposterous. How could you have seen this phantom during your short visit to the shire, when neither I nor anyone else in our household has ever seen him? He’s always spotted by the overly imaginative or simpletons.” Gareth shook his head. “On second thought, it makes perfect sense that you spotted him.”
Jessamine narrowed her eyes and shot him a look of pure death. “I’m neither simple nor did I imagine the whole thing. And he had to be one big bat because I did more than see him. I flew with him.”
Gareth stared blankly at her. “You went flying with him?” Gareth pointed at the ceiling. “Up in the air? How much celebrating did you and Tabitha do once you excused yourselves?”
Her dark eyes flared. “I wasn’t drunk. He flew me to safety because someone shot arrows at us… well, at him, but I was there, so he swooped me up and took me to safety before going to investigate.” She stepped closer to Gareth, taking his hands and wrapping them around her waist before putting her arms around his neck. “I was this close to him—so close I could feel the warmth of his body through the armor. He’s no phantom. He’s living flesh. I could hear his pounding heart.” Her dark eyes met his. “Much like I can hear yours now.”
Gareth swallowed. “And you’re telling me this dream you had last night because…? Is this some attempt to make me jealous?”
Jessamine stepped back. “It was no dream. And no, I’m not attempting to make you jealous. You’ll soon be my husband and protector. These are your lands and your village. The knight said he’d never been attacked like that before so this could be some new danger for your household and neighboring people. I thought you needed to know.”
Gareth’s glare became even more acrid. “Protector? Have you been blind to the wheelchair I sit in, day-in and day-out? I’m in no position to be anyone’s protector. If that’s what you want, maybe you should flag down your flying knight and marry him instead.”
Jessamine shook her head. “I came to you with this as a way to start building trust between us. You are not just some cripple stuck in a chair with nothing to offer. You’re a man with strengths and abilities. Honestly, I believe you think of your chair as an impediment much more than anyone else does.” Jessamine spun around. “Look, it’s not even in the room and you have to bring it up.” She stopped and a curious expression came over her lovely face. “How do you get around in here without your chair? How did you get to the mirror where you stand?”
Gareth held her gaze while trying to think of an answer. Then he remembered that he needed to drive her away. He knew just how. “Like this.” Gareth hopped and hobbled toward the nearby chair. Before he got there he intentionally stumbled to the floor.
Jessamine started toward him.
“Don’t. I can do this.” Gareth crawled his way up the chair and sat. “This is how your future protector gets about without his chair. Do you think this attacker will fear me when he sees me crawling toward him? Or maybe he’ll worry I can run him down with my chair?” Gareth was yelling at that point. His face grew hot from his rage at having to move about in such an undignified manner in front of her. “Does this arouse you? Look at me, the man you will soon marry. Get a good look because this is what you will be chained to for the rest of your life. You want honesty? This is what I am without my chair. If you must have your title so much, then take it and get on the ship with it, along with Tabitha and your father. Let’s not pretend this marriage is about any more than your rung on the social ladder.”
Tears pooled in Jessamine’s eyes and her lip quivered. “I didn’t mean to upset you or…cause you embarrassment.” She stepped toward him, reaching out her hand. “I’m really not…”
“You’re not what? Interested in marrying me? Good. Go without the title. Even better. That way we have no ties at all. I’ll do this for Tabitha if I must, but don’t expect me to pretend to be happy about any of it. If it wasn’t for her needing a secure future I’d not suffer your presence a moment longer. Now get out of my room!”
Jessamine blinked hard and stumbled toward the door. She turned to face Gareth one last time when she got there. “I was going to say that I’m really not bothered by how you move without your chair. I want to be your partner in life and help you. I hope someday you feel comfortable being your true self in front of me.”
“This is my true self.”
Jessamine nodded and walked out the door.
The hurt look on Jessamine’s face weighed on Gareth. She annoyed him yes, but inflicting her pain bothered him. But he had no choice. It was for her safety anyway. How could he ever respect or trust a woman who only wanted him for a title? She’d have her title soon enough and be back on a boat for America.
Besides, Gareth would need to do some traveling himself. He needed to go to Scotland and find out more about his mother and the Fae. Had she been one of them? Perhaps Grandfather had more information he could draw from.
Chapter 10
The next morning, Gareth flew back and forth in his chamber listening to the chaos in
the house. Strange voices calling back and forth to one another. The grunts of men hefting furniture and scrapes as they moved it and then the thud of it being set back down.
Gareth punched the ceiling before descending to the bedroom door and peeking out again. He was dying to get out of the confines of his four chamber walls, while at the same time trying to stay out of the way of all the workers preparing the house for the blasted wedding.
He zoomed to the curtains and glanced down at the yard. Carts, loaded with flowers and food, were arriving. There were even some of the new automobiles parked in front of Waverly Park.
The now familiar sound of feminine laughter down the hall grated at Gareth’s last nerve. Jessamine would become his wife that very night. He surveyed the yard once more. It didn’t matter who was in the house, he had to get out at least for the day.
Gareth flew to the door and peeked out. Unfamiliar women in maid uniforms carried linens down the hall. He closed the door again and banged his head on it. He needed to call the whole thing off. He couldn’t go through with it. The idea of cold feet became reality for him.
His heart raced, and sweat ran from his forehead to his chin. He could just leave. Fly away. Maybe go to Scotland and never come back. Down the hall, Tabitha laughed. The melodic ring of her voice put steel in his spine. There was no money and no choice. For Tabitha’s sake, there was no escaping the ordeal to come.
He could do this. He just needed to get outside and get away for a bit. After waiting until no one was looking, he made his way down the stairs, into his chair, and out the back door. He glanced up at his majestic ancestral home. Waverly Park was a large stone estate, built twelve generations back. The inside had always been as cold and gray as the stone on the outside when Tabitha was absent. She was the only one to ever touch his heart. He’d do all in his power to establish her future. She’d even softened Grandfather’s stone heart through the years. He had to keep them safe. It was his duty.
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