Violet Fire

by Jo Goodman

  “He told you that?”

  “Yes. Anyway, I was a much more likely suspect than you ever were.”

  Shannon thought she caught a moment’s hesitation, but dismissed it. What reason would Brandon have to lie to her or not tell her everything? “What would make him think that?”

  Brandon chuckled. “The girth strap, darling. It didn’t take him long to realize you didn’t know a girth strap from a leading ribbon. Not even when the pieces were laid out before you.”

  “I wondered why he asked me so much about horses. My ignorance must have been woefully obvious.”

  “Thank God.”

  Shannon silently agreed. “But he doesn’t know who actually did it, does he?”

  “No. He was only able to reduce the number of people who could have tampered with the strap.”

  There was no mistaking Brandon’s pause before he answered her, and Shannon stopped immediately. “There is something you’re hiding,” she said. “Something Sir James knows.” Even in the dim light she could see he was offended by her accusation and immediately began to question her judgment.

  “I’m telling you what his lordship told Aurora and me.” That was strictly true, he thought, as far as it went. He was glad to see the bewilderment vanish from the planes of her upturned face. His eyes fell to the curve of her mouth and rested there a moment before he pulled himself away. “There were eleven people at the folly who could have damaged Rory’s tack,” he said as they began walking again. “Rory knows quite well who they are, and you are not among them. Sir James told her that in light of the divorce I was seeking, she should reconsider her decision to stay at the folly, but you can imagine how she responded to that. She still insists there will be no divorce.” He shook his head, recalling Aurora’s fit of temper. “After the scene she enacted in front of him, I think he felt sorry for me. Throughout his investigation Rory betrayed herself as her own worst enemy. I truly think he was beginning to wonder why no one had tried to frighten her off before.”

  “That’s cruel,” she said, but found it hard to tamp her smile.

  “I know,” he said unapologetically. “But when she was flinging accusations at everyone, it was inevitable that he should wonder why so many people disliked her. I’m afraid that Aurora made that painfully evident. It shocked me a little. I thought she would be more subtle.”

  “I know.” Shannon had no difficulty remembering Aurora’s raised voice coming from the confines of the library. “It was almost as if she were, I don’t know, desperate to prove that someone wanted her dead, as if the evidence of the cut strap were not enough.” She shook her head. “Never mind; it sounds strange to my own ears.”

  “It does indeed,” Brandon said. “Imagine, my practical Shannon given to flights of fancy.”

  She warmed to the phrase “my Shannon,” but questioned the adjective. “Practical? Is that how you think of me?”

  Brandon tightened his hold on her waist, wondering if he had done anything to give away his relief at the change of subject. “On occasion,” he admitted, steering Shannon toward the clearing where they had first made love. “Now when you’re—”

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “You know.”

  “I’m afraid I do.” The thin, naked limbs of the willow tree were outlined against a darkening sky. “And it won’t do at all.”

  “That practical, rather prosaic side of your nature is showing itself again.”

  “A good thing, too. You know what will happen if we stay here long.”

  “I’m hoping I do.” His voice dropped, and there was no lightness in his tone now. “Am I really the only one who wants something more than hushed endearments or a casual touch?”

  “Damn you,” she said fiercely as she was turned against his body. Her hands pushed ineffectively at his chest. “You know it’s not so. But we can’t, Brandon.” She tried to evade his mouth as his head lowered, and discovered he was quite content to nuzzle her neck. “Not here.”

  “Then where?”

  She shivered as his breath tickled her skin. “I didn’t mean that.” When she moved again, his lips touched her ear. “I meant nowhere.” His mouth whispered across hers. “Not…now.” Shannon felt her resolve begin to weaken. Her need to touch him, to have him hold her, was greater than her good sense.

  Brandon silenced her last protest with his mouth as he lowered her to the ground. The bed of fallen leaves cracked beneath her. Shannon’s fingers fumbled with the silver buttons of Brandon’s waistcoat. He sat up long enough to shed his jacket and lay it under her head. The momentary chill was forgotten as their bodies shared the warmth of a close embrace. Shannon’s hands tugged at his shirt, pulling it out of his breeches so she could touch his smoothly muscled chest. The ivory shawl covering her shoulders was discarded, and Brandon’s fingers slipped under the scooped neckline of her bodice, arousing her with his teasing caress.

  Once a canopy of silver-green leaves shaded the lovers; now the deepening indigo of night shadowed them. Brandon’s kisses played along Shannon’s mouth, the bridge of her nose, the delicate skin of her closed eyes. She caught his face in her hands and pulled his mouth back to hers when he strayed too long. Her lips parted, offering him entry, and her tongue engaged his in a tender, mocking battle that spoke of the desire between them.

  She helped Brandon with the lacings of her bodice, loosening them until he could ease her dress over her breasts. His eyes adored her, his hands, then his mouth. Shannon’s tiny gasp remained unheard as a whippoorwill moved in the underbrush, crying out its plaintive song. The tips of her fingers brushed the corn silk softness of his hair, pressing against his temples when she felt the flash of pleasure spiral through her.

  It was the molding pressure of Brandon’s hands on her naked thighs that brought Shannon to awareness. The skirt bunched up about her waist made her feel like a doxy, and the knowledge that perhaps she was no different than Annie Jones made her grow cold. That she loved Brandon seemed only an excuse, not a reason to be with him now.

  Brandon almost immediately sensed her withdrawal. Her hands dropped away from him, and the small, restless movements she made in desiring had ceased. “What is it?” he asked, hooking a leg over her thighs while his hand rested on the curve of her hip.

  Shannon shook her head, tears pricking her closed eyes. She bit her lip afraid to voice her thoughts, certain he would despise her if she called a halt now. Through the rough fabric of his breeches she could feel the press of his erection.

  “Shannon?”

  “I can’t, Brandon.”

  “Can’t?” he repeated, not wanting to believe he had heard correctly.

  “Don’t do this to me,” she begged softly.

  “I thought you wanted this also.” Even as he said it, he knew it wasn’t true. He had overridden her objections, forcing her surrender as surely as if he had held a pistol to her head.

  “I do. That is what makes it so terrible.”

  Brandon’s soft curse was directed at himself, but he felt Shannon flinch. “That was not intended for you,” he said, releasing her and sitting up. He turned his back on Shannon. “I am tired of waiting. Sick of wanting. Sick with wanting.”

  Shannon righted her skirts and adjusted her bodice. “Do you think I’m not?” she asked, touching his shoulder. “But as long as Aurora remains at the folly, I cannot be with you. Not in the manner you wish. It would be so easy for me to lie with you now, and so hard for me to live with myself later. I have betrayed Aurora so often in my thoughts, wanting you as I do, but please do not ask me to betray her in my actions. We’ve already gone too far. Sometimes I still think it would be better if I—”

  Brandon turned and drew Shannon to him. She fit easily into the circle of his arms. “I won’t let you go, Shannon,” he said, cutting off the words he could not let her say aloud. “Having you here and not being able to be with you is better than not having you at all. I need you. I’ve never said that to anyone else, and if I’m damned f
or my selfishness, then so be it. When Aurora left me, it wounded my pride. If you were to go, it would cut my heart. I want you here, where I can see you. Where I can know you’re safe.”

  Puzzled by his last statement, Shannon raised her head. “Safe? I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t I be safe?”

  Brandon blinked, realizing what he had just said. “Safe from the attentions of others,” he said smoothly. “If I sent you to town, I would always wonder who was trailing after your skirts, waiting for the opportunity to catch sight of your dainty ankles.”

  Shannon began to laugh. “Foolish man. In one breath you bare your soul, and in the next you speak of skirt-chasers. So much for a romantic declaration.”

  He hugged her to him, pressing her cheek against his shoulder. “You deserve so much more than me,” he said. “I thank God every day that you don’t know it.”

  “Now you are certainly speaking foolishness.”

  He ignored her comment. Picking up his jacket, he placed it around Shannon’s shoulders.

  “No, you should have it,” she said. “My shawl is here somewhere.”

  “Keep the coat.” The corner of his mouth turned up in a wry smile. “As for me, the chill will serve as well as a dip in the river.”

  Shannon flushed at his self-deprecating humor. “You’re not angry with me?” she asked.

  “Angry with myself perhaps, but not with you. I asked for this when I brought you here. I knew it would be against your will. I simply didn’t want to hear your conscience when I had worked so hard to bury mine.” He leaned back against the trunk of the willow tree and stared at the cloudless night sky so brilliant with stars. “When did you know you loved me?”

  His question surprised Shannon. “Don’t you know?”

  “No. You were going to tell me once, and then you never did. I’ve wondered about it.”

  That amused her. She thought she had been so obvious. “I wish I could say that it happened at Glen Eden,” she said. “But you frightened me then.”

  “To my everlasting regret.”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” she said quickly. “You were beyond all my experience.”

  “The attentions of a stripling lad would have been beyond your experience,” he teased.

  Shannon nudged his ribs. “You weren’t as reserved as the earl, nor as shy as the local youths. Your confidence in your own charms was a bit overwhelming.”

  “Conceited, you mean.”

  “Overwhelming,” she repeated. “You were—” She stopped as something moved in the wood. “Did you hear that? An animal, I think.”

  Brandon was already standing up, his head tilted to one side to pinpoint the sound. “Go back to the house, Shannon.”

  “But—”

  “Go back to the house now! Run!”

  Brandon’s jacket fell off her shoulders as Shannon was pulled to her feet. She started to pick it up and stopped when Brandon growled impatiently at her. He scooped up her shawl and thrust it into her hands. Bewildered by the harsh urgency he communicated, Shannon picked up her skirt and began running toward the candlelit windows of the folly. Pausing once to catch her breath, she glanced over her shoulder at the clearing.

  Brandon had already disappeared into the wood.

  Chapter 13

  Shannon had no intention of waiting in the house for Brandon to return. She couldn’t imagine what he had been thinking, to go into the wood unarmed. Clearly the animal she had heard represented some danger, one that he would not have her face. But for him to face it alone was pure madness.

  Oblivious to the eyebrows she raised as she threw open the kitchen door, Shannon went straight to the closet where the muskets and ammunition were kept. She slipped a leather pouch over her head and across her shoulder and took down two rifles from the rack.

  Martha threw up her hands, blocking Shannon’s exit. “Lord, give me strength! What do you think you’re doin’, Miz Shannon?”

  “Brandon sent me for these,” she lied breathlessly. “He’s waiting, Martha. Step aside.”

  “What can that man be thinkin’?” she wondered aloud as Shannon hurried past her. “He’s lost what he had that passed for brains.” Since Shannon was already out of the house, Martha continued her diatribe for the benefit of the staff gathered around the kitchen table.

  Because she had been afraid to run with loaded weapons, Shannon waited until she reached the clearing before she primed them. Difficult as the task was in daylight, she found it nearly impossible to do at night. Remembering Cody’s warning about how much gunpowder to use, Shannon could only pray she had measured the right amount. While she worked, she kept her ears alert to movements in the wood.

  The heavy silence that met her did little to ease her fears. She tried not to imagine that Brandon had already been hurt, but the thought could not be completely repressed. Carrying a rifle under each arm, Shannon moved cautiously into the woods at the point Brandon had disappeared. She swore under her breath, an explicit word she had heard Brandon utter once, and thought it was appropriate now as her foot connected with a tree stump. Her skirt snagged on the rough bark and Shannon lurched forward, trying to regain her balance. She fell on one knee, just managing to keep the rifle stocks from slamming into the ground.

  She got up again and listened, certain that if Brandon were close, he would have heard her. Something moved in the trees off to Shannon’s left. She waited, breathing shallowly until she recognized the furtive scurrying of a squirrel or chipmunk. As her eyes adjusted to her surroundings, she moved more confidently, though with scarcely less noise.

  Eyes trained on the ground in front of her, it was Brandon’s corn silk hair, illuminated in a narrow beam of moonshine that she saw first. The silver buttons on his waistcoat caught her eye a moment later. She ran ahead, dropping the rifles on the ground as she knelt beside him. “Brandon?” she whispered huskily, heart in her throat. Shannon bent forward, her cheek near his mouth, and felt the warm caress of his breath on her face. She touched his shoulder and gave him a little shake. “If this is some trick,” she said softly, “then it is in poor taste.” Her fingers gently searched his scalp, eliciting a groan from him when she chanced upon the knot on the side of his head.

  Brandon’s hand came up to trap hers and keep it still. “No trick,” he said raggedly. “Hurts like hell.” His effort to sit up came to nothing.

  “Stay where you are,” Shannon ordered, pressing him back. She could feel the warm stickiness of his blood on her fingertips. Slipping her hand from beneath his, she tore at the hem of her chemise and made a bandage, which she applied to his head. “Can you tell me what happened?” she asked, trying to keep him distracted while she worked.

  “I fell,” he said succinctly.

  Shannon’s eyebrows shot upward. “That is rather hard to believe.”

  “Why? I am prone to moments of clumsiness, especially in the dark.”

  Shannon laughed lightly, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “My dear, dear Brandon, you are rarely clumsy, and certainly not in the dark.”

  Brandon smiled crookedly as her meaning sank in. “You choose the damnedest times to fire my senses, madam.”

  Shannon finished securing the bandage and assisted Brandon in sitting up. “So you fell,” she prompted.

  “And hit my head on something,” he said. “A rock, I think. A boulder, by the feel of it.” He rolled his stiff shoulders and stretched his arms. “What are you doing here anyway? I recall giving very clear orders that you go to the house.”

  “I did go to the house,” she said defensively. “But I couldn’t permit you to give chase with no weapon. I brought two rifles.” She patted the ground around her, found one, and placed it in Brandon’s hands. “Have a care. I loaded it.”

  “Sweet Jesus!” he whispered, awed. “What were you thinking of?”

  “Your safety.”

  Brandon wanted to be angry, but his head was throbbing. Since the danger had already passed, he could think of no good reason to rake
Shannon over the coals for her good intentions and lack of common sense. “I wasn’t unarmed,” he said. “I don’t go any distance from the house at night without a weapon. There is a hunting knife strapped inside my riding boot. It is sufficient protection.”

  “I didn’t realize.”

  “I know you didn’t. But I’m no hero. I would have followed you back to the house if I hadn’t had it. It wouldn’t have been the first time I ran from a wolf.”

  Shannon gasped. “Is that what we heard? A wolf?”

  “Most certainly. They are not so common as they once were when this land was being settled, but they cannot be dismissed, especially this time of year. They’re looking for food, and they’re just as satisfied with the meat in the smokehouse as they would be killing their own.”

  “Then it is just as well I came back,” she said spiritedly. “You might have been a delicacy, lying there as you were.”

  “Yes, well, it didn’t happen.” He touched his wound, thinking there were wolves, and then were were wolves. But he refused to alarm Shannon. He got to his feet, using the rifle as support, then extended his hand toward Shannon, helping her up. “Let me carry the other musket as well.”

  Choosing not to argue, Shannon handed it over. “Don’t fall,” she said saucily, and led the way out of the wood.

  They were met in the clearing by Henry and Aaron, both carrying rifles. “Martha sent us out,” Aaron explained. “Didn’t want to see Miz Shannon hurt. Martha says you ain’t got no sense, sending her back for the rifles.”

  “Martha says that, does she?” Brandon asked dryly, glancing significantly at Shannon.

  Shannon coughed delicately and tried to look apologetic. “She can see for herself that I am quite unharmed,” she told Aaron. “Although the same cannot be said for my companion. Do you know he gave chase to a wolf with nothing but a hunting knife?”