by Holt, Cheryl
“I did, for you see, Nine Lives, I want what all women want. I want a husband who loves me, a home, a few children. I convinced myself that I’d made you want some of those things too. It was foolish of me. I realize that now, but imagine my surprise when your candid opinion was revealed.”
“I didn’t mean it!”
“Yes, you did! Now I am embarrassed to the marrow of my bones. Both by my stupidity and by my naïveté, and I would appreciate it if you would leave me be.”
“I’m not done telling you what I came to say.”
“That’s a problem for you then, because I’m done listening.”
“I can’t marry you, Helen. Ever. I wish I could.”
“No, you don’t!” She yelled the remark, and the outburst astounded her. She gestured to the tent flap. “I’ve never shouted at anyone in my life, so it appears you’re driving me mad with your nonsense. Would you shut up and go away? Please!”
“I’m bound to wed very high,” he continued as if she hadn’t begged him to be silent.
“Cease your drivel!” She clamped her palms over her ears to block out what he was so desperate to impart.
He stepped over and pulled her hands away. He was holding her wrists, and she yanked away so he wasn’t touching her.
“I’m a British lord,” he decreed. “I’m a lost British lord.”
“You are not,” she scoffed. “You’re a pirate and a smuggler, and I have no idea what game you’re playing, but I won’t play it with you.”
“I am a lord, a viscount—and an earl. When I suffered my accident at sea, my father was with me, and he died. He was earl before me.”
“Really?” She oozed sarcasm. “How fascinating. What is your name then? Tell me that—if you can.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“You couldn’t prove it by me. Who are you?”
“I’m…I’m…Hayden Henley.”
“Hayden…Henley?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve heard of him. I daresay all of England has. You’re claiming to be Hayden Henley?”
“Yes, I swear.”
She gaped at him for an eternity, then she began to laugh, and her mirth was so great she had to stagger over to a chair and plop down. She was that overcome by hilarity.
“What’s so funny?” he snapped as she gasped for air and struggled to control her chortling.
“Hayden Henley is dead. He’s been dead for ten years. Were you hoping I wouldn’t have been apprised of his passing? You must think I’m an idiot.”
“I am Hayden Henley!” he hotly insisted.
“If you’re trying to impress me, you haven’t succeeded.”
“I am the Earl of Middlebury.”
She snorted with amusement. “I’m betting the current earl might have quite a strong opinion about that statement.”
“I am Middlebury!” he fumed. “It’s why I can’t wed you. I’ll be marrying according to my station. It hurts you to have me be so blunt, but that’s what will happen. It has nothing to do with you personally.”
She rolled her eyes. “It has everything to do with me, you annoying dolt. You simply picture yourself as being very far above me, and you’re inventing a pretext to justify your bad behavior.”
“You’re British, Helen. You know how we view these issues.”
“No, I don’t actually.” She stood and walked to the tent flap. “You’ll have to excuse me. You won’t leave, so I will. Good day to you, Lord Middlebury.” A laugh bubbled up again, and she swallowed it down. “And might I request—from now on—you call me Miss Barnes. I don’t believe we’re on familiar terms.”
Regal as any queen, she swept out and didn’t glance back.
* * * *
Hayden dawdled down the wharf from where Helen and her sister were about to climb the gangplank onto their ship. Robert had hired a carriage, then he and his son, Tom, had brought them to town. The tide would turn shortly, and they’d be away from Tenerife and on their way to England.
After their humiliating conversation, he hadn’t spoken to her again. She’d stormed out, then he’d saddled his horse and ridden off. He’d stayed away most of the night, reveling at a seedy sailor’s tavern. He’d drunk too much rum and had been entertained by the harlots who worked upstairs.
To hell with Helen Barnes! He had no idea why he’d tried to talk to her.
She’d insulted him. She’d belittled him. Most gallingly, when he’d relented and admitted who he was, she’d assumed he was playing a game with her—as if he was a confidence artist.
He was grouchy and surly, which seemed to be his constant condition since he’d met her, and he’d planned to take no notice of her departure. As Robert had loaded their traveling trunks, as the vehicle had rattled away, he’d been terribly melancholy to the point where he’d been nearly bereft.
He felt awful over their quarrel, and it had gradually dawned on him that he couldn’t let her go without his seeing her a final time. He’d dragged his hung-over self out of bed, had saddled his horse, and galloped to town. But he was hiding down the block, too much of a coward to approach and tell her goodbye as he ought.
Sailors lugged their trunks on board. Then Robert and Tom were hugging the sisters in farewell. The embraces ended, and Robert leapt into the carriage, then Tom. Becky started up the gangplank.
Helen peered up at Tom, and she said something that made him smile. As she stepped away, she stared down the wharf toward where Hayden was standing. Their gazes locked, and for a lengthy moment, they were frozen in place. The sounds of the busy port faded away, and there was just him and her and no other people in the world.
He pushed away from the wall of the tavern where he’d been leaning and loafing and watching her so keenly. He marched over to her.
She had no expression on her face so, for once, he couldn’t guess what she was thinking. Was she happy he’d come to send her off? Or would she scoff with disgust and accuse him of being an unrepentant cur?
He continued until he was directly in front of her, so close that the toes of his boots slipped under her skirt. He studied her pretty green eyes, searching them, anxious to imprint their exact color in his memory so he’d never forget.
“Hello, Mr. Nine Lives.” She grinned, ignoring what he’d told her about his name. “I didn’t expect you to be up so early.”
“You’re attired all in black, Miss Barnes. You look as if you’re on your way to a funeral.”
“I’m hot as a stove too.”
“You never figured out how to dress for this climate.”
“No, and I deem it a blatant indication that I don’t belong here.”
“You didn’t pack any of the clothes I gave you?”
“I considered it, but I decided I need to remember who I am, and I need to get back to the life I understand. I’m a vicar’s daughter. I wear black because—when I run my father’s home for him—it sets the proper tone.”
“I’ll miss you,” he said.
“I believe I’ll miss you too.”
“I’m glad we met.”
“I’m glad too.”
“I didn’t always show it, but I’m glad.”
“You were an interesting man for me to know.”
He snorted. “You’re being very gracious.”
“I’m always gracious.”
“Yes you are. And kind and beautiful too.”
“I’m honored that you think so.”
“I’m sorry for what I said the other night.”
She waved away the comment. “Don’t worry about it. It’s water under the bridge.”
“I’m sorry about yesterday too. I didn’t say what I really wanted to say.”
“I beg to differ. I thought you were exceedingly clear.”
“I hate that I’m such an ass.”
“Ah…you’re not so bad.”
Their banter dwindled, and they stared and stared. Then—killing
him a bit—she laid a palm on his chest, right over his heart where Alex Wallace had wounded him in their duel.
“Take care of yourself,” she murmured.
“I always do.”
She tsked with amusement. “That’s not true. Be careful. Be safe.”
“I’ll try my best.”
“Whatever it is you’re planning next, good luck.”
He shrugged. “I have many schemes in the works. Whether any of them will come to fruition, I’ll just have to wait and see.”
“I hope the road you travel in the future is smoother than the road you traveled in the past.”
“It couldn’t be worse.”
“I’ll fondly recall the afternoon we went swimming,” she told him. “If I live to be a hundred, I’ll never forget a single detail.”
“Neither will I.”
“Thank you for hunting for my father. Thank you for letting us stay with you in your camp. Thank you for sending us home.”
“You’re welcome.”
“It’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”
He gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I’m not usually nice. You’re simply a very sneaky person who has been slowly forcing me to change my ways.”
“I am sneaky,” she admitted. “From the start, I realized there was a wonderful man lurking deep inside you. I lured him to the fore.”
He dipped down and kissed her on the cheek. Then he grew brave and kissed her on the lips, just a quick brush of his to hers. She didn’t deflect his embrace, but she stepped away so he couldn’t extend it. He straightened and sighed with regret.
“Goodbye,” he said.
“Goodbye. I’ll always be able to brag that I once knew a genuine pirate.”
“I’ll deny I ever was one though.”
“Yes, but I can still brag about it. I’ll also be able to honestly state—my whole life long—that I never met a man quite so dashing as you.”
“And I’ll be able to honestly state that I never met a woman quite so pretty.”
“There you go, swelling my head with compliments again.”
“How will you fit it through the door to your cabin?”
“I might have to camp out on deck for the entire trip.”
She smiled at him, and he smiled too, being incredibly relieved that he’d rushed to town, that he’d spoken to her. She wasn’t angry, and apparently, he’d been forgiven. She’d arrive in London with pleasant memories.
It was the moment to move away so she could walk up the gangplank. Her sister was on board and glaring down at them, visually urging Helen to hurry. Behind him, he could sense Robert’s and Tom’s sharp attention. They were avidly observing as the scene played out, but not close enough to hear their conversation.
She pulled her hand from his chest, and suddenly, he felt as if his heart was breaking. He couldn’t bear the notion of their parting, and there was a loud voice shouting in his mind.
Don’t let her leave, you fool! Stop her!
But he’d never been particularly astute, had never listened when he should. He didn’t heed the voice, didn’t follow its strident command.
“Maybe…ah…I’ll see you in England some day,” he stupidly mumbled, sounding like an idiot.
She chuckled. “I’m certain you won’t, but I shall pray you find whatever it is you’re looking for there.”
Without another word, she spun and flitted up the gangplank. She joined her sister at the rail, and they stood together, talking, laughing, waving. He tarried on the pier, feet braced, observing as the sailors raised the plank, as a lone sail was unfurled, as the anchor was lifted.
Whistles blew, orders were bellowed, and lines cast off. A harbor crew in a long boat began to row, tugging the ship from the pier. They worked their oars vigorously and were swiftly out in deeper water. Before he knew it, the long boat was released, and the wind caught the sail, the vessel gliding past the jetty.
More sails were unfurled, the wind catching them too, the ship picking up speed. It raced away, growing smaller and smaller, and soon, he couldn’t distinguish any details.
Was Helen still there at the rail? Was she watching the island vanish in the distance? Could she still see him?
In case she could, he remained where he was until the ship disappeared beyond the horizon, and he continued to dawdle, a solitary man in the middle of the busy traffic on the wharf.
Robert called to him. “Hayden!”
He whipped around. “What?”
“Will you ride to camp with us? I’ve asked you three times already.”
“I’m fine. I have my horse.”
“Don’t mope and drink by yourself all day.”
“I’ll try not to.”
“I’ll expect you in a few hours.”
“I’ll be there.”
“If you’re not back by dark, I’ll have to come fetch you. Don’t make me.”
“I won’t.”
He wandered off and staggered into the first tavern he passed. He ordered a glass of whiskey, then thought better of it and had the bartender bring the whole bloody bottle.
Evidently, the copious amounts of alcohol he’d imbibed the previous evening wouldn’t do the trick. Not at all.
CHAPTER TEN
Six months later, a deserted road in rural England…
Hayden reined in his horse, so Robert stopped too. Will and Tom were lagging behind, and the pause would allow them to catch up. They were at the entrance to a grand estate, and there was a sign that announced the name.
It was the very worst spot to have halted, but he hadn’t been able to continue on by without marking the awful place.
They were on a deserted lane. Night was falling, the sky a relaxing lavender color that would soon fade to indigo, then to black. The late summer weather was pleasant, the rural woods quiet and peaceful. It was a perfect moment, the forest so green, the air so fresh and invigorating.
With its pristine fields and streams, this was the England he’d remembered. In his long decade away, where so many terrible events had battered him, his dreams of this sort of evening had kept him moving forward.
Old habits died hard though. They were in safe country, but nonetheless, they were heavily armed with pistols, swords, and knives. They might have been bandits or outlaws bent on felonious activity. When they passed through villages, people scurried out of their way.
They were wealthy now, so they could have moderated their appearance, could have donned gentlemen’s clothes, but they were prepared for any kind of peril, and they wouldn’t apologize for it.
In truth, he hadn’t expected to ever return to England. Over the years, the prospect had begun to seem like an impossible quest, but it was nice to be back. Initially, he’d convinced himself that—after their dire experiences in foreign lands—it would feel strange and awkward. But it was enjoyable to cross paths with those who spoke their language and exhibited familiar customs.
Robert gestured to the estate sign. “There it is: Wallace Downs.”
Hayden snorted with disgust and jumped down from the saddle. He spat in the dirt.
“That’s what I think of Wallace Downs.”
“Do you suppose his eminent self, Alexander Wallace, is in residence?”
“From the chatter in the local tavern, he must be.”
“Are you surprised he’s still alive?”
“No. He was too smart to perish in an accident, too cunning to grow ill, and it would take a powerful foe to kill him.”
“Someone like you for instance?”
Hayden’s smile was grim. When he and Wallace had dueled, he’d been too much of a boy to win their fight, but he wasn’t a green boy anymore. “Yes, someone exactly like me.”
“Shall we ride up and knock on his door? You could say hello.”
“I’m not in the mood. If I saw him, I’d probably murder him.”
“Even after all this time?”
“Even after.”
Sarcastically, Robert taunted, “And here I assumed you’d learned some Christian values like forgiveness and charity.”
“I don’t have a forgiving bone in my body. You know that.”
“No, you don’t, I’m delighted to report.”
The posts holding up the estate sign had been decorated with flowers and streamers of ribbon. Hayden went over, grabbed a handful of flowers, and yanked them away. He threw them on the ground and crushed them under the heel of his boot.
“What sort of vain idiot decorates his entrance sign?” he asked, scoffing with derision.
“They’re planning a wedding, remember? It’s likely for the benefit of guests who will be arriving—so they can find where to turn their carriages.”
“Bugger their carriages,” Hayden muttered.
“Gossip at the tavern has it that Alex Wallace is to be the groom.”
“Who would marry him? What female would be that stupid?”
“He’s a rich asshole. Any desperate ninny would agree.”
“If he’s marrying again,” Hayden said, “that tart, Eugenia, must have died.”
“Eugenia was his wife way back when?”
“Yes.”
“Before we travel on, are you positive you wouldn’t like to visit him? You’d catch him unawares, and you could shoot him right between the eyes. It would definitely ruin his wedding day.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” Hayden chuckled. “The notion almost makes me consider it.”
But they weren’t about to engage in violence. They’d journeyed too far and had suffered through too many unbearable obstacles. They couldn’t land themselves in a jam at the last minute.
His quarrel with Alex Wallace was in the past, from that ridiculous period when he’d been a clueless, naïve boy. He’d been pompous and pretentious, completely absorbed with his own self-importance, and he’d presumed that he could force whatever ending he desired.
After Wallace had challenged him to their duel, Hayden hadn’t paused to fret over the consequences. It had all been like a dream, and they’d all been so young and foolish. He’d never seriously believed he could be shot, that he might nearly perish.
