Tarnished, Tempted And Tamed (Historical Romance)

by Mary Brendan

  Joan wrapped her arms about herself. But the thrill shivering through her was not simply caused by unpleasant thoughts; she wondered what it would be like if she truly did have a secret lover to elope with. But there was nobody she’d yet met that she fancied in that way. Even Wolfson, handsome as he was, didn’t make her heart really flutter...but she did trust him to do the deed and get her father a victory against the gang.

  Joan turned from the window with a thoughtful smile. Lowerton was not so far away. And her father was out this evening. She could reach the village, deliver her plea to the major, and be back before morning. Her father always returned from his friend Smalley’s, sunk in his cups, and staggered straight to bed. So he would not even know she’d been out...

  Chapter Eight

  Fiona’s head had fallen against Luke’s shoulder as the chestnut cantered through tall meadow grass with dawn breaking at their backs. Surfacing from her doze, she heard the mare whinnying a protest and realised their mount was being forced to speed up and veer to the left.

  Blinking open her eyes, she saw they were exchanging mild brightness for cool shade. Once behind a tall screen of hawthorn Luke pulled the horse about to face the way they’d come. He murmured to the exhausted beast, then leant forward, fondling the animal’s nose to quieten its snorting.

  ‘What’s happened?’ Fiona started to ask, conscious of his cheek shaving her complexion. She’d only previously seen him through dusk and drizzle and flickering lamplight. Angling back her head, she looked at him now in pale daylight and with a solemn intensity that she didn’t understand. But it seemed he did and her avid interest amused him.

  Oh, he knew he was good looking, Fiona thought sourly, and no doubt believed she’d be putty in his hands should he choose to lay them on her. Well, the conceited devil would find that she’d have no difficulty in resisting him! ‘Why have we stopped?’ she demanded, squinting into the bottle-green depths of the copse.

  ‘Because they’ll catch up with us soon.’

  ‘We’re being followed?’ Fiona forgot about seeming aloof and stared at him in alarm.

  ‘They’ve been behind for some miles, but are now closing on us fast. This poor nag can’t outrun them so best let them pass. If we keep giving them the slip, they’ll tire of the game and head back to lucrative business in Dawlish.’

  ‘We must quickly find an inn and seek shelter in case they don’t give up!’ Fiona blurted, eyes widening in apprehension.

  ‘In these parts you never know what help to expect,’ Luke returned ruefully. ‘Some people don’t take kindly to interfering strangers. They like buying cheap goods from smugglers. Not everybody is against the gang.’

  That information came as a great shock to Fiona. She knew nothing of rural codes. Her attempt to escape had been thwarted, but it hadn’t once occurred to her she might have been foiled, not by Luke Wolfson or the Collins gang, but by country folk who’d betray her for the price of a barrel of brandy.

  ‘We’ll carry on to the King and Tinker and make plans there for your onward journey.’ One of his fingers was placed against her mouth, silencing her immediate protest at the delay, before it was pointed at the road.

  Fiona heard the drumming of hooves before watching, from behind their leafy camouflage, two horses thunder past.

  ‘It’s Sam Dickens and Fred Ruff!’ She was fully alert now and had identified her two kidnappers with no trouble, her eyes remaining fixed on their figures until they were just dark specks in the distance. ‘They intend to steal me back from you and try to ransom me.’ Fiona couldn’t control the wobble in her voice, but she refused to display any other sign of fright.

  ‘They won’t succeed, trust me.’ Cupping her sharp chin in his hand, he turned her head towards him. ‘Trust me...’ he ordered huskily. ‘I swear I won’t harm you, or ransom you.’

  As their gazes merged, Fiona noticed that his eyes were sepia brown and fringed with long child-like lashes. It would be easy to feel overwhelmed by his masculine charm, she realised. But unanswered questions about him were still cramming her mind and she was determined to have at least one puzzle solved before they set on their way.

  ‘How did you discover I’d been abducted? You were long gone when our coach was held up by those two.’ She nodded at the horizon over which the smugglers had disappeared.

  ‘I heard the gunshots and turned back. I regret that I wasn’t in time to help.’ Luke swung out of the saddle and held out his arms. ‘Come, it is an opportunity to stretch your legs. The immediate danger is past.’

  Fiona allowed him to help her down, her mind now buzzing with thoughts of the people with whom she’d travelled. ‘You saw the others? How were they all?’ she demanded. ‘Poor Bert had been shot and Mr Jackson hit over the head. But of course you must know that,’ she rattled on. ‘Oh, please don’t say that either fellow has...’ Her words tailed away and she blinked back a sparkle of tears. She had only known her travelling companions for a few days, yet so much had happened to unite them that they seemed like her old friends.

  ‘Nobody perished from the attack,’ Luke said gently. ‘When I left them all at the Pig and Whistle they seemed as well as could be expected. The sisters—especially the younger—seemed to have controlled their hysterics. As for the two invalids, a doctor attended to Bert and Mrs Jackson adequately patched up her husband. The man seemed almost good as new. The couple were very concerned about you, though.’

  ‘And I have been fretting over how they all do. Thank goodness they are safe. Had I known you’d seen them I would have made you tell me about them sooner.’

  ‘Made me?’ Luke challenged.

  ‘Asked you, then...’ Fiona amended, turning from him. ‘I wouldn’t like you to think I’m a bully, Mr Wolfson.’ Her tone dripped irony.

  ‘I wouldn’t like you to think I am, either, my dear, but I fear you do, despite my selfless and costly efforts to rescue you,’ he mocked.

  ‘And why would it worry you what I think?’ Fiona snapped, pivoting back, determined not to be bested in this verbal duel. ‘You hold all the cards, as you made sure to impress on me, and are playing them close to your chest. I still know nothing about you or your association with Collins. But associated with him, indeed you are! And you’re probably no better than he is!’

  ‘Shall I take you back to him, Fiona, so you can know the difference between us?’ Luke advanced a pace. ‘No?’ he taunted on seeing her blanch and retreat. ‘I’m stuck with you, then... I doubt Jeremiah would refund my money, in any case.’

  ‘But I will, sir, at the very earliest opportunity,’ Fiona retorted, her pale complexion flushing with colour. She put her hands behind her to clutch at a thick tree trunk. His undue familiarity had unsettled her despite her liking the way his husky voice formed her name. ‘Don’t think for a second that you have bought me!’ she whispered.

  ‘But...I have...’ Luke pointed out in an infuriatingly confident drawl. ‘And it’s unlike me to lose on a deal.’

  ‘You will not lose! You will have my price and interest, too,’ Fiona spat, tossing her face proudly aside. It was a moment before she realised she had no idea just how much it was that she owed him. And she was chary of asking. She had no money, not even the cash she’d saved for her travelling expenses. That thieving wretch Fred Ruff had pocketed her coins, despite sneering at the paltry amount. All she had left in the world was a gold locket, worn hidden beneath her bodice since her avaricious stepfather entered her life. The small oval had been her twenty-first birthday gift from her parents and was the only piece of jewellery she now owned. She’d be heartbroken to lose it. But she would hand it over to Luke Wolfson before they parted. From its worth she hoped he might recoup the many banknotes she’d seen him give to Collins and that there would be sufficient left to settle the cost of her coach fare from the King and Tinker to Dartmouth.

  For weeks past h
er mind had been constantly occupied with her new job, but since this man had burst into her life she’d barely given a thought to being a governess. And she must, for what else was there for her? She just hoped that she still had a position to go to and her new master would be sympathetic to her tardy arrival, once he knew some of the facts behind it.

  ‘There’s no need for you to feel under any obligation to reimburse me.’ Luke had spoken while kicking together some twigs. He squatted down with a tinderbox and put a light to the pile of kindling.

  Fiona watched tendrils of smoke transform to baby flames as he teased the fire to take hold. She sensed he’d become bored with their cat-and-mouse game and was now being serious. ‘I insist on settling my debts, sir,’ she said distantly.

  ‘From a governess’s pay?’ He slanted a look up at her.

  Fiona bristled beneath his quizzical stare. Days ago he’d chided her for travelling alone as a vulnerable female, now she felt he was ridiculing her ability to earn enough to pay her dues. And, of course, on both counts he was right. He’d said her safety could turn out to be a burden on him...and so it had proved. As for her salary, she’d be lucky to save pennies from it after the cost of her board and lodging, and other necessities, had been deducted.

  About to pull the locket into view with a flourish Fiona instead pressed her small hands to her stomach to smother its embarrassing gurgling.

  ‘Are you hungry?’

  She nodded, avoiding his eyes. She’d not eaten properly since having a beef sandwich at the Fallow Buck. When was that...yesterday, the day before? She realised she was losing track of time.

  Having acknowledged she was famished, she suddenly felt quite giddy with fatigue, too, and sank on to her knees in case she swooned. ‘Might I have a small drink from your brandy, Mr Wolfson?’

  Luke took the bottle from the saddlebag and, pulling the cork with his teeth, upended it so the spirit poured in an amber stream to the ground. ‘It’s lethal,’ he explained to Fiona, who was watching him with an indignant frown. ‘A swig of that could kill you.’

  ‘Why ask Collins for it, then?’

  ‘I wanted him to think I trusted him enough to sell me a drinkable bottle. I tasted a drop earlier and knew it for poison.’

  ‘So...if he thinks you’ve drunk some, and perhaps me, too, he might believe us to be dead in a ditch somewhere,’ Fiona suggested.

  ‘He might...’ Luke gave a twitch of a smile, realising she had a quick intelligence. ‘But I doubt it...’ He stood up now the fire was blazing. ‘Jeremiah Collins is not easily outwitted, and neither am I. I think we have each other’s measure.’ He hunkered down in front of her. ‘If I go and find us something for breakfast, are you going to behave nicely and stay right where you are?’

  Fiona’s feline gaze flicked sideways at him; his lean stubbly jaw was mere inches from her and the warm male scent of leather and wood smoke about his person was pleasant and reassuring. ‘If you’re going to find a place to buy bread, I’ll come, too.’ She suddenly realised she didn’t relish the idea of being left alone with the smugglers prowling in the vicinity.

  ‘There’s no bread to hand, but perhaps a rabbit or hare might let me snare them,’ he explained, half-smiling. ‘And I’ll find us something to drink.’ He glanced up. ‘I spotted a heron earlier so there’s water about.’ He’d added that comment while getting into the saddle.

  ‘Keep the fire alight, but don’t use damp wood or it’ll create smoke and attract unwanted attention,’ was his parting advice.

  Chapter Nine

  A short time ago Fiona had been desperate to escape Luke Wolfson; now she wished she’d insisted on staying with him, she realised, as the sun climbed higher in the heavens and still he’d not returned.

  Every unfamiliar rustle and creak made her start and peer apprehensively into undergrowth. She’d tolerate sharing her little woodland glade with wild creatures, but not with Jeremiah Collins’s savages. She constantly fidgeted to and fro, on the lookout for approaching horsemen while her mind concocted dastardly betrayals as the reason why Wolfson had not reappeared. Pacing from oak to ash and back again, she’d soon convinced herself that he had tricked her into believing he’d gone hunting. In reality, he’d had enough of her and was bartering with the gang to get his money refunded. He’d told her to stay right where she was so Fred and Sam would quickly locate her and carry her, again bound and gagged, back to Jeremiah Collins’s lair...

  The sudden, unmistakable sound of a horse snorting made Fiona whip behind a tree trunk, heart pounding, in readiness to flee for her life. The sight of the chestnut being steered about a bush was so welcome that Fiona forgot herself and broke cover to run to him.

  ‘You were a very long time.’ She’d sounded like a carping wife, she realised, and lowered her eyes.

  A quizzical sideways look from Luke let her know he also thought her a nag. But his smile was not too mocking as he dismounted. ‘Sorry... I didn’t think you’d miss me so much. I’m out of practice trapping.’

  He dropped a brace of hare to the ground and immediately set about stoking up the fire that she’d forgotten to feed while in a stew over his absence.

  ‘Do you know how to skin an animal?’

  Fiona’s retort, that she’d not missed him at all and was simply keen to get going, withered on her tongue. She gazed at him as though he were mad. The only hare she’d ever seen had been either running in a field or jugged in a pie. She found the idea abominable that she might strip a creature of its fur.

  Having seen her pallor, Luke took out a penknife. ‘Right... Gather up some more firewood while I prepare the carcase,’ he ordered. ‘Collect dry leaves, too, if there’s not much seasoned timber to hand.’

  Watching the first cut into the lifeless beast was enough to make Fiona spin away and start foraging on the ground. She didn’t stray too far and soon was drawn back by the appetising aroma of roasting meat, carrying an armful of the driest twigs she could find.

  As she dropped the kindling Luke immediately built up the blaze, then handed her his water bottle for a drink. She brushed together her gritty palms, then gratefully accepted, waiting for him to furnish a cup of some sort.

  ‘Straight from the bottle,’ he told her, turning the game slowly on the spit fashioned from a sapling branch braced between a pair of forked sticks.

  Fiona watched him as he worked and juices dropped to sizzle and steam on the embers, curious as to how a refined gentleman came to acquire such marvellous skills.

  And despite everything she sensed Luke Wolfson was from good stock and had the benefit of an excellent education. Her father had held a similar station in life, yet she was certain Anthony Chapman wouldn’t have had the slightest inkling how to trap or camp or consort with villains.

  When her father had been alive they’d been comfortably off and kept domestics to deal with menial tasks. Since her mother had remarried the cook had gone and a single maid had been burdened with everything, including cooking and serving at table. Fiona and her mother had feared poor Rose would hand in her notice before too long. Fiona realised the woman might by now have gone and Maude alone waited hand and foot on odious Cecil Ratcliff.

  ‘Are you an officer serving in the army?’

  ‘Not any more.’ Luke hadn’t raised his eyes from the browning meat while speaking.

  Fiona pondered on how to make him divulge more about himself. She concluded that there was no subtle way of being inquisitive. Before she could stop herself she rattled off, ‘Have you fallen on hard times? Have you joined those criminals to earn some money? Did you not really want to take part in kidnapping the duke’s daughter?’

  He slanted at her an impenetrable look and for a moment Fiona thought he might tell her to mind her own business. ‘No, I’ve not fallen on hard times and, no, I wouldn’t have been paid by Collins. As for the kidnap...you’re ri
ght on that score; I didn’t want to get involved because I thought it a stupid scheme from the start.’

  ‘So why did you get involved?’ Fiona was elated at getting him to spill a few beans.

  ‘As a favour to a man I admire and to collect a fee.’

  ‘So you do need the money.’ Fiona pounced. Since her own downturn in fortune, she could understand how the prospect of destitution might ruin a previously upright character.

  ‘No...I don’t.’

  ‘Why do it, then, with so much at stake?’ Fiona was beginning to think he was deliberately talking in riddles to deter her from pursuing the subject.

  ‘I’m starting to ask myself the same question.’ Luke stood up, walking towards her.

  He held out a joint of hare and Fiona took it, tossing it from hand to hand as it singed her fingertips. ‘Hot...’ she murmured with a bashful smile that incorporated her thanks. Her stomach was rolling in hunger and she took a cautious nibble, unable to wait for the food to cool. It was surprisingly tender and delicious and she told him so, then greedily tore again at the meat with her small teeth.

  ‘Have you fallen on hard times, Fiona?’ Luke had returned to the spit to break off a leg for himself while speaking.

  Fiona wiped her mouth with the back of a hand, staring at him. She hadn’t expected him to turn the tables on her. ‘Why do you ask?’ She took another bite of succulent meat and chewed slowly.

  ‘Because...like me...you seem to be undertaking something at odds with your class.’

  Fiona curled her legs under her on the ground and paid full attention to her food. ‘My father died and my mother remarried,’ she explained, sure he’d not remove his eyes from her profile until she did. ‘Our circumstances changed. I felt it wasn’t fair to burden my mother with the cost of keeping me any longer.’

  ‘You don’t like your stepfather,’ Luke stated bluntly.