Chloe sighed and followed at a more sedate pace with Gerald at her side. As they rounded the corner, she almost collided with Jareth who was coming from the other direction.
“Jareth!” Gerald exclaimed. “Had the same idea we did, eh?”
“Just a brisk walk.” He edged around them, already preparing for a swift exit.
“Care to join us? We are going to build a snow castle or some such thing.”
“Castles are for the sand,” Chloe said softly. “The snow is for making forts.”
“There, you see? Snow forts. We could use the help.”
Jareth refused to look at her. He appeared to be studying the treetops. “No. Have work to do.”
“No rest for the wicked, eh, cuz?”
One side of his mouth jerked up politely. He gave a nod and turned away, striding purposefully toward the house.
Chloe watched his back, her face as frozen as the tree limbs surrounding her.
Gerald gazed after his cousin and shook his head. “That man takes his office too seriously. If I were duke, I’d make sure to have a little more fun.”
“He thinks fun is not allowed.”
“Then he is a fool.”
And Chloe didn’t say anything to that because, after all, she had to agree with him on that account.
Chapter Twenty
Winter grew old, and spring burst in on them with longer, wetter days and plenty of mud. These gloomy conditions gave way to the new greens of spring’s first buds as the Easter season approached. When it passed, the skies dried enough to allow an outing, and Chloe had an inspiration.
It was something she had been thinking about for a long time, so she asked a footman to have a table and chairs set up by the paddock and arranged with Daniel for several grooms to exercise the horses. Telling the children to fetch their favorite doll or stuffed toy, she led them outside. They were going to have a very special tea party outside today!
Jareth sat in the parlor with the sheriff.
“Nothing on the man with the ring, your grace. We have reports that he’s still in the area, and my men and I are still keeping up every vigilant effort to find him.”
“Excellent, sir,” Jareth replied. “I thank you for your work.” Outside the window, he caught a glimpse of Chloe and the children making their way across the lawn. Gerald was not in attendance, he was glad to note.
Jareth turned back to the man sitting across from him. “I was thinking of another matter, Sheriff, a delicate matter about which I need to speak with you. It concerns my brother’s fatal accident.”
The sheriff frowned. “The accident? How can I help you there?”
“Was there anything in the carriage that might have given an indication as to the cause of the accident?”
Since Claremont’s visit, he had wondered…He hadn’t spoken to anyone about the nagging, growing suspicions that dogged him, telling himself it was only one of the marquess’s mind games. But that parting comment of his, the fact of his hating Charles, contributed to a growing disquiet.
“There was so much damage, your grace, I would not know how to begin to answer that question. The left door was gone. This was how the children were saved. You see, they were thrown clear early in the carriage’s descent. It was, we surmised at the time, after this occurred that the carriage hit a steeper part of the ravine and was shattered on the rocks.” He cast Jareth an apologetic look. “I am sorry to be indelicate, your grace.”
“I am not concerned with delicacy at this time, sir. I need information. Was there anything on the road that might have indicated how the carriage capsized in the first place?”
“It was a rocky pass. Your brother and sister-in-law had friends on the other side of the woods, up by the river, and they often took the road, I was told at the time.”
“Then someone wishing to ambush them would have known they would be coming that way.”
The sheriff was silent for a long time. “Is that what you are thinking? That this was no accident?”
That wasn’t all Jareth was thinking. Claremont had given him the idea that maybe his brother’s death was planned—maybe someone had a reason for wanting Charles dead. Someone like Claremont, for example. He might have been furious at Charles for beating him out in that land deal. Perhaps he had finally had enough from the man who had been instrumental in getting him thrown out of university.
Nor was he the only one Jareth could think of who had a motive. Gerald always coveted the title, and the fortune, of Strathmere. Perhaps he had killed Charles and planned to do Jareth in in due time. It had gotten Jareth to thinking that perhaps the attack in the garden was not a robber at all, but an attempt on his life. Chloe had saved him when she had stumbled—literally—upon him.
The man with the ring was the key. Jareth would be willing to wager someone had hired him. Why had he come to Strathmere that day, and what had frightened him off?
Helena knew something, her reaction was an indication of that. Or perhaps it was merely attributable to a well-bred lady being thrust in the presence of a ruffian exhibiting rude behavior.
“I am merely exploring all the possibilıties,” he said finally.
The sheriff pursed his lips with sage concentration. “I see. Do keep me informed as these possibilities develop, will you?”
“Certainly, sir.”
After he took his leave, Jareth went to the window. He had refrained from having anything to do with Chloe for over two months now, but he was not above spying on her. In his mind, he preferred to think of it as keeping an eye on her.
Ever since he had seen her and his nieces cross the lawn earlier, he had wanted to find out where she was going, what she was doing. If he had to stay away from her, he must, but he would not deny himself watching her.
What he saw amazed him, for over by the stables, she was seated with Rebeccah and Sarah and a stuffed bear and a doll at a table and chairs set up directly in front of the paddock. Behind them, a parade of horses pranced by.
The little genius! With the distraction of their play, she was slowly acclimating the children to reestablish their comfort with horses.
So delighted was he at her cleverness that he thought of going out to join them. It had been so long, surely he would be able to maintain his self-control in her presence. And they were out in the open, with an audience of little girls and servants. And he missed seeing his nieces. He had been making great progress in winning their trust before he had cut himself off from them.
Eventually, he talked himself into it. It had been only a matter of time before his resolve gave way, and this enchanting picture broke through the last of it.
The air was fresh, moist and sweet and full of the promise of all the freedom of the coming months of summer. He breathed it in deeply as he walked toward the strange tea party, striding with vigor he hadn’t felt in…well, two months or more.
When Chloe saw him, she was visibly shocked. “Your grace? Is something the matter?”
“Nothing,” he said, drawing up to them. He had to drag his eyes away from her lovely face, kissed by the golden light, and address Rebeccah and Sarah. “I simply thought this an excellent idea for tea and wanted to come and see if I could be invited.”
His answer was Sarah’s removal of Old Samuel from the chair upon which the bear had been sitting. It was the sweetest invitation he had ever received
“Thank you, Samuel, for giving up your seat.”
Rebeccah giggled, clamping her hand over her mouth. He even saw Chloe smile as she looked down, so obviously awkward with him present.
“What is this young lady’s name?” Jareth asked, indicating the doll.
“That is Henrietta,” Rebeccah ınformed him. “Oh, I mean…Cass-e-o-pa. I renamed her.”
A shard of guilt shot through him. She had renamed her doll Cassiopeia to honor the constellation, and to honor him. He vowed never to neglect their affections again.
“I just recollected that I never kept my promise to you. For you
to come see the stars at night—do you recall? The weather is warming. We shall do it soon.”
“That would be lovely,” she replied.
Jareth coughed to cover his amusement at her primness. When he sobered, he poured a cup of tea. “So, tell me, does Cassiopeia take tea?”
“Her digestion is bad, so she is not having tea today,” Rebeccah replied. Jareth made the mistake of glancing at Chloe. Her eyes were soft and crinkled in the corners and so fathomless he could have stared into those steel-blue depths forever. There was no holding back his smile now, but this one was all for her.
He forced his attention back to his niece. “And does Cassiopeia like horses?”
“Yes,” came the child’s answer with a definitive nod of her head.
That was certainly a meanıngful answer. From the corner of his eye he caught Chloe’s eyebrows rising. He made his voice studiously nonchalant. “Then perhaps she will like a canter later. Could you pass me the scones? And I would like some clotted cream, please.”
“Let me get it for you,” Rebeccah said in a rush, reaching to hurriedly fix him a scone. After slathering a disgusting amount of cream on top—which he took as a sign of her esteem—she shoved the pastry at him m triumph, wincing when a huge dollop flew off and landed in his hair
Both girls’ mouths dropped into tiny O’s as they waited for his reaction. Slowly he reached up to his head and pulled off the glob. Then, to their total amazement, he dropped it in his mouth, lickıng his fingers and saying, “Mmm, delicious!”
They all fell to laughing again. Chloe watched him with wonder, and he was suddenly painfully aware of all the things he wanted to say to her.
“Cassiopeia wants her ride now!” Rebeccah cried, grabbing her doll and waving her in the air with both hands.
“Very well. Come, Cassie. We must pick a mount.” He carrıed the doll to the paddock fence. The children trailed behind, fascinated at his play. They were probably wondering what had happened to their sour-faced uncle who was wont to brood of late. Probably gone mad, they might assume.
He felt mad, if madness were to be this free and untroubled in the company of two little girls and a fresh-faced young woman with a smile that could dim the sun.
“Now, which horse do you prefer? The gray? The mare? Or did you wish to have the black gelding over there? Hmm. What is that you say?” He leaned into the doll as if she were whispering in his ear.
He turned to Rebeccah with wide eyes “She says that none suit her. She heard tell of a white mare, and she wants that horse and will have no other.”
Rebeccah almost collapsed with giggling. Sarah smiled, that lovely face that was so like the Charles he remembered shining up into his.
“Oh, she is a naughty doll to be so fussy!” Rebeccah declared. “I shall have to speak with her.”
“Oh dear, she heard you and now she is quite afraid.”
His silliness made the two girls giggle, and he laughed as well, delighted…
He stopped, stunned. Looking to see if he had just imagined it, he turned quickly toward Sarah.
Even Rebeccah turned, silent now, to stare at her sister.
Sarah was laughing.
Chloe ran to them, falling onto her knees before the child.
Sarah laughed and laughed and her audience waited, enraptured until the beautiful sound died away. Then she reached out her hands and laid them on each of Chloe’s cheeks. He saw Chloe blink, her eyelashes moist. Sarah said, very soft and very slowly, “Chloe.”
Chloe cried out, a wordless sound of joy, and snatched the child to her, “Good, Sarah! Brave, Sarah!” she kept saying.
Jareth swallowed away the emotion in his throat and bent down on one knee beside them. “What a wonderful girl you are, Sarah,” he murmured, touching the child’s golden hair.
“Oh, ma petite. Que tu es courageuse!” Chloe crooned until the child pulled away, seeming aston“ished at their making such a fuss. Jareth remembered the doctor’s description of how children snap out of maladies of the nerves. Rebeccah had demonstrated a similar reaction when she had awakened to find herself in the midst of the playroom with no one about but her uncle.
He put a hand on Chloe’s shoulder and drew her up with him, trying to peel his mind from the way she clung to him. It was a struggle to keep from wrapping his arms about her. “Rebeccah, you must congratulate your sister,” he told his other niece.
Rebeccah, who was never pleased with being less than the center of attention, offered a grudging acknowledgment.
Then he realized his silliness had been the catalyst to bring Sarah’s voice back, and so wanting to encourage her, he picked Cassie up again and resumed their play.
Sarah spoke no more words, but she laughed until the sound of it filled his heart. Chloe watched her charge, eyes shining, and then she turned that adoring gaze to him and his heart melted all over again.
After a while, the horses were brought inside and the servants came to cazry the tea service and furniture back into the house. Rebeccah asked if she and Sarah could go into the fenced meadow and gather some of the early wildflowers dotting the hillside, Chloe said they may.
“But who shall watch Cassie and Old Samuel?” Rebeccah fretted. “I cannot carry her, my arms shall be too full of flowers. I know! We shall take them to visit Lady Anne and Harry’s mother and brothers, so then they will not miss us when we’re gone.”
Chloe agreed this was an excellent idea and brought the children to the deserted corner” of the stables where the mother cat had made her home. When the toys were safely nestled among the feline family, the girls raced to the meadow.
“It was a brilliant idea you had,” Jareth said from the doorway. Chloe turned with a gasp. She hadn’t seen him follow them inside.
She supposed he would flee when the girls went off. She knew he didn’t want to be alone with her. Yet he was here now, a soft smile playing on his lips in that way he had that made her want to reach out and touch.
“It was your doing,” she said, attempting to remain steady as her heart began to pulse harder. “You said we have to challenge the girls to face their fears, and after I thought on it, I had to admit it seemed a good idea. But small challenges first.”
He spread his hands out before him. “You know best.”
She gave a small laugh. “I do not believe I heard those words from your mouth!”
He laughed, too, and as the sound died, his gaze remained on her. He wanted to say something, it seemed, but was unsure. They simply stared at each other like that for a moment until Chloe looked away and said, “Maybe I shall go join the girls.”
“I missed you,” he said.
She closed her eyes, staying very still. “You know where I am to be found.”
“And you know that is impossible.”
She opened her eyes and glared at him, letting her anger show. “I know what you think is impossible.”
“Do not fight with me. Today has been too happy for harsh words.”
Her shoulders sagged. “Then what would you have me say to you?” He didn’t answer. She went to brush past him, murmuring, “I need to go,” but when she passed him, his hand shot out and captured her upper arm.
His mouth was at her ear, saying, “I stayed away because I was too much a coward to face you. If I saw you again, my resolve would have evaporated and the situation would be worse than it is.”
She snapped her head around to face him. “If that is true, why did you come today?”
He looked stricken, as if he himself was appalled at his failure. “Because when I saw your absurd, brilliant little tea party, I couldn’t resist you any longer. I hoped that with the time apart, it would be different between us. But it’s not, is it? Dear Lord, it’s worse.” His voice lowered into a husky whisper. “I want to touch you so much.”
She yanked her arm out of his grasp. “How dare you say that to me. You call yourself a coward, and I quite agree, but for the opposite reason. Not because your self-control is too weak
but because it is too strong. You do not know what courage is. You English find virtue in having no emotions, but it takes real courage to feel! You play with me like those cats play with mice. First you ignore me, then you come to me—how dare you! You may strive to stifle your emotions, but I have no wish for that dry, stoic life. I have feelings, and you are trampling them, you clumsy man!”
In a lightning-quick movement, his hands grasped her on either side of her waist and he pulled her toward him. “Everything you say is true. I have said it to myself.”
“Then why are you here, Jareth?” Her voice was plaintive, but her hands flattened against his chest, sliding upward as his eyes dropped to her mouth and his head lowered.
He kissed her, long and languid, like a man savoring generations-old scotch. The heady effect was the same—dizzying, intoxicating—and when he broke the kiss to press his lips to the corner of hers, he gave her the answer, “Because I cannot stay away.”
“You should not have come,” she said. Her hand curled around the back of his neck as she turned her face into his to meet his mouth with hers.
He kissed her again, than moved to brush his lips along the line of her jaw. “My will has run out.”
“And what has changed? Is anything altered from what it was?” She was acutely aware of his hand splayed across her waist, moving upward, his fingertips just now grazing the underside of her breast.
His hand stalled. She had heard his labored breathing. “No. Of course, nothing is different.”
“Yes. I know.” She pulled away enough to look into his eyes. “Then remove your hands from me and do not touch me again.”
She saw the words wound him, and for a moment of madness, she wanted to take them back, tell him she didn’t mean it, tell him she would take whatever he could give her, be whatever she needed to be to have him touch her like this again, but she clamped her will down over the impulse and notched her chin up, ignoring the stinging in the back of her eyes.
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