“You’re a nuisance,” he said with a groaning sigh. “You’re not going to die, not at the hands of those fiends lurking outside nor by my hand. I’m not in the habit of killing innocents, not even impertinent May princesses.”
She mimicked his expression, which seemed to irritate him further if the clench of his jaw was any indication. Sighing, she raised her hands as a sign of truce. “Forgive me Captain Mariner, but you must admit, this is all a bit odd. Those dogs have put us both on edge.”
“I suppose. And you may call me Ardaric. Just Ardaric. I only use my formal title when I’m out in public or at Court.”
“It is all a bit odd,” she insisted, rather an understatement to be sure, but he’d just mentioned that he had a formal title and it sounded as though he had been presented at Court. She decided not to press him further about his true name. Did it really matter? She knew he wasn’t from the Lake District, for anyone that handsome would not have gone unnoticed by any female over the age of ten or under the age of ninety.
He would leave soon and she’d never see him again.
He must have been thinking the same thing, for she was feeling wistful and he had the same surprisingly wistful look in his eyes. “Winnie, we strayed off the topic. Tell me more about your childhood. What were you like as a little girl?”
She supposed it was a harmless enough question. Her childhood, what she could remember of it, had been happy and she couldn’t help but laugh lightly. “I was an odd child, always dreaming of faeries. This district is steeped in faerie lore, and I was easily drawn to it. The fields and meadows come alive with bluebells at this time of year.” She leaned closer, as though about to reveal something very important. “Faeries often live among the bluebells, so if ever you see a bed of those flowers, you’ll know those fabled creatures are about.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and eased back, grinning as he listened to her. “I’ll keep that in mind... but from now on, I’ll think of you whenever I see bluebells.”
“I’m sure you’ll forget me the moment you leave town,” she said with a laugh, although it wasn’t filled with merriment because she knew that she’d miss him terribly once he was gone. “About those faeries in my dreams, some were kind, some were handsome... some were evil. I called the evil ones Dark Fae. They all seemed real, but I could never make out any faces.”
He leaned forward a little, but his arms were still crossed over his chest. “I’m intrigued by this land of faeries that you’re from.”
She peered at him. “They’re only in my dreams. I’m too practical to walk around in that fantasy world during the day.”
“By your expression, I think your dreams were not always sweet or pleasant. What did your Fae look like?”
“I’ve just told you, I never see their faces.”
“Do you see their bodies? Their surroundings? Tell me about that.”
She shook her head. “I know what you’re thinking, that those horrid dogs are somehow connected to my childhood. They’re not. I’ve never seen them before.”
He frowned. “My instincts tell me that they must be related somehow.”
“And my instincts tell me nothing of the sort,” she replied, matching his light frown, but she soon relented. “I’ve never been in danger before, so I suppose mine might not be as keen as yours. In truth, my head is so muddled right now I feel dense as a rock, just as thick as one of Miss Allenby-Falk’s hideous desserts.”
“Perhaps you don’t have a warrior’s keen instincts,” he said, his expression once more tender, so that she wished he would unfold his arms and take her in them, “but you may have knowledge that will clear up this mystery. Indulge me for the moment. Tell me what you can about your unusual dreams.”
“Very well. I know it will sound ridiculous to you, but you resemble the handsome faerie prince who always comes to my rescue. Same blond hair and big... er, muscled body, although my prince had the power to shift into a smaller being or a larger, winged dragon. I must confess, when I first met you, I tried to look behind you to see if you had wings.”
He arched an eyebrow and grinned. “Sorry, no wings.”
“And I doubt your big body would fit in the palm of my hand. You’re not very cheerful or playful. If you were truly a faerie, you’d have faerie dust to sprinkle. You don’t even have pointed ears.”
“Elves have pointed ears,” he replied, taking mock offense by the comment. “Fae ears are perfectly shaped.”
As was the rest of his body, but she wasn’t about to remark on it. “You wield a sword like a warrior. And you don’t seem the sort to merrily dance the night away.”
“I will dance on occasion. Perhaps you and I will share a waltz before I depart.”
Her heart caught in her throat. “A waltz? As they do at fashionable London balls?”
He nodded. “If you wish.”
She did, but she’d also learned something important about him. He knew how to make his way around a London ballroom and had attended more than one such glittering affair. He was no stranger to Society. “Thank you, but there is no one at hand to play the music for us.” She cast him a hesitant smile. “However, I promise to think of you next time I dance in my dreams with my faerie prince.”
“I’m honored, Winnie. And about those wings or faerie dust. I know a little about faerie lore as well. The Fae are actually taller than men, but can shift into smaller beings when they wish to be closer to the elements.”
“What elements?”
“The elemental forces of this world. Wind, fire, water, and earth.”
She took a long glance at him. “Your element is definitely earth. You’re sensible and well-grounded. You’re a Woodlands Fae, for certain. Some prefer to live under mushrooms or flowers. They’re the ones who shift into smaller beings.” She studied him for another long moment. “But you don’t ever like to be small.”
He arched an eyebrow. “No. I prefer to remain as I am now, in my natural form.”
She laughed lightly. “It suits you quite well. Your turn to guess about me. If I were Fae, which element would I be?”
“That’s an easy question.” His gaze once again softened as he regarded her. “You’re a Water Fae.”
She shook her head and laughed again. “You’re wrong. I can’t swim.”
He moved closer to her side, close enough to make her body tingle. “Then I had better teach you,” he whispered huskily in her ear.
Captain Mariner in the water, his wet hair slicked back and water droplets glistening off his lightly bronzed bare chest... her heart shot into her throat again as she imagined him emerging from the azure depths like a magnificent sea god. She was terrified of water and her dreams were often of her drowning, but she wouldn’t be afraid if he was by her side. She trusted him with her life. The realization stunned her. Could she trust him with her heart? “I had better clear away the dishes.”
WISH UPON A KISS
CHAPTER FOUR
Winnie was about to reach for the dishes when she heard a sharp knock at the door and turned toward it. Captain Mariner stepped in front of her and put a finger to his lips to signal her to be quiet. “Don’t make a sound,” he whispered, nudging her firmly behind him.
She gasped as a jolt of warmth shot through her body.
“Did I hurt you?” He spared her no more than a glance, for the person at the door was knocking with persistence.
“No. Your touch felt quite nice. Unexpectedly nice.” Why had she admitted this to him? She was on edge and prattling inanely. A sigh of pleasure slipped out before she could stop it. “A pleasant heat, actually.”
He glanced at her again, and his lips curved upward in an almost smile that left her weak in the knees.
Was he going to kiss her? Once the danger had passed, of course. But he turned away and once more concentrated on the door and the person now pounding on it which was the sensible thing to do. He was capable of keeping his wits about him while she was fluttery and distracted, unable to
stick to her purpose or believe that someone truly wished to harm her. Why her? She wasn’t important to anyone.
“Lady Winifred! Are you there?” She recognized Lord Darkwell’s muffled voice. He sounded angry. “Let me in.”
Captain Mariner’s hand was on his sword hilt in anticipation of drawing it out. Perhaps he would have already slipped it out of its scabbard had he been alone, for there was an eager tension in his stance, and she realized the only reason he held back was because of her. She placed her hand on his shoulder to regain his attention and spoke softly. “He’ll break down the door unless I respond.”
“No. Keep quiet, Winnie. Your life depends on it.”
She didn’t like the sound of that. She heard a softer knock at the door a few moments later, or perhaps her heart was beating so hard that she could hardly make out other noises. “Winnie, dear. Let us in. Please. We know you’re in there.” This time it was Lady Darkwell’s voice. “Is the stranger you mentioned earlier in there with you? Answer us. We need to know he hasn’t done you harm.”
Her hand was still on Captain Mariner’s shoulder. He felt solid and comforting. Were her instincts completely wrong? She’d never liked Lady Darkwell or her husband. They’d always looked upon her with disdain.
“Those dogs you spoke of earlier. How do you know they aren’t his? He could be planning to carve you to bits and feed you to them. We know they’re real and shouldn’t have doubted you. They tried to attack Miss Allenby-Falk, too.”
“Oh, the poor woman!” she said in a frantic whisper. “She might be hurt.”
Captain Mariner covered her mouth with his hand and drew her firmly up against him. “If so, there’s nothing you can do about it now. Don’t listen to them, Winnie. They are not your friends.”
“You’re not either,” she said the moment he released her, which he did as soon as he’d issued another caution to keep silent. She took a step back, somewhat relieved that he wasn’t forcing her to remain in his grasp. Quite the opposite, his touch had been gentle and surprisingly protective, as though he did not wish to hurt her or alarm her.
“Please, Winnie. Let us in, just for a moment,” Lady Darkwell now pleaded, sounding on the verge of tears.
Winnie chewed on her lip, uncertain what to do. She understood Captain Mariner’s hesitation, but she’d known the Darkwells for most of her life. They weren’t the nicest people, but that didn’t make them villains either. She was about to relent and call out to them when she heard a low growl on the other side of the door.
“You fool! Keep those beasts quiet!” Lord Darkwell commanded, his voice a harsh whisper that she easily managed to overhear, for her senses were alive and thrumming, and his hushed words penetrated the walls of her mind as well as the walls of the manor.
Captain Mariner’s arm was around her now, his touch light but no longer tentative as she burrowed against his chest. She shivered, trying to make sense of what was happening. “Why would the Darkwells want to harm me?”
“I don’t know. I think you had better tell me more about your dreams and those Dark Fae. Something must have happened years ago that you don’t realize.”
“This is all too odd. Are you suggesting that I’m cursed by a vengeful faerie who is now seeking to kill me? Not even my godmothers would believe such nonsense.”
His grunt was mirthless. “I don’t actually believe in that superstitious nonsense either, but I do believe in greed, jealousy, and hatred. Has anything unusual happened to you before?”
She tightened her grip on his shoulders as the pounding on her door grew louder. “No, this is the first time. But why the Darkwells? It makes no sense. I’m no relation to them. Indeed, I’m of no consequence to them. There’s no reason for them to hurt me. And even if there were, why wait until now to act upon it?”
“Do you have an important birthday coming up? The truth now, Winnie. How old are you?”
“Ah,” she said with a mirthless chuckle. “Is all of this your diabolical scheme to learn my age?” Of course, she knew now that he was probably the only one she could trust and he had a purpose to his question. “I’ll turn twenty-one the day after tomorrow.”
“I see.” He nodded as though her answer was significant.
“I still don’t understand what any of it means.” They were standing in the parlor, his arms now wrapped protectively around her waist while she clung to his shoulders, and their voices at a whisper. It felt so intimate, and the feelings he stirred in her were almost as frightening as the pounding at her door.
Suddenly, the pounding stopped and all fell quiet. “Have they gone?”
Too quiet.
Captain Mariner left her side to open one of the shutters a crack and see what was going on outside. She followed him, although she could tell by his expression that he wanted her to remain safely away from the window.
She felt safe so long as she was close to him.
“Winnie must not have come home,” Lord Darkwell complained to his wife and let loose a string of curses. “Let’s leave. These stupid dogs have proved useless.”
She stood beside the captain as he studied them, and wriggled in front of him so they both could watch the Darkwells ride off in their elegant carriage.
“Merciful heavens!” She let out the breath she’d been holding and leaned against the wall for support the moment their carriage disappeared from view. “I’d be dead now if it weren’t for you.” To her frustration, she still didn’t know his real name. It didn’t seem important at the moment. She closed her eyes and silently thanked her godmothers for sending him to Kingsley Hall.
His expression was distant, yet thoughtful. “There was a third person lurking in the shadows, the one who obviously controls those dogs.”
She hadn’t noticed. “Are you certain? It could have been a trick of the moonlight.”
“It wasn’t.” He shook his head and gazed at her. “I’m more convinced than ever that you know something you don’t realize. We were speaking of inheritance.”
“Of which I have none.”
He ignored the comment. “Twenty-one is rather a young age for a woman to inherit, but it may be that you were merely required to survive to that age. Twenty-five is a more common age for actual distribution of wealth. Funds are often kept in trust until the beneficiary comes of age and is deemed capable of managing his or her own affairs. A woman’s portion usually remains in trust until she marries, I grant you. But it isn’t always so. Do you have brothers or sisters?”
“No. I wish I had.” She tried to keep the wistfulness out of her voice, but no doubt failed. “As far as I know, I’m an only child.”
He nodded. “It stands to reason that your parents left all their worldly possessions to you.”
She hated to think of cold legal affairs when losing her parents was of far greater importance. She would have given a king’s ransom to have them back even for an hour. She knew so little about them, which suddenly struck her as odd. Her godmothers chattered about everything else, so why not about her parents? “I’m quite sure the new baron inherited most, if not all, of the baronial wealth. Assuming any ever existed.”
Captain Mariner had a determined gleam in his eye, one that revealed he would not be dissuaded from this topic. “He would have received the entailed properties, of course. Your father would not have been able to pass them to you, but there is no such restriction on his other assets—”
“Of which there are none,” she repeated.
“Hear me out, Winnie. You say you’re a baron’s daughter. Orphaned as an infant. You were given over to your godmothers and not the new baron. Why not? It is only logical that he would have been appointed your guardian.”
“Perhaps he didn’t want me.” She tipped her head up and frowned at him. “Perhaps my father didn’t trust him.”
“Because he stood to gain your considerable wealth if you died before reaching your twenty-first birthday.”
She rolled her eyes and sighed. “If I do have wealth,
it’s been very well hidden from me. And if said baron is out to harm me, then why was it the Darkwells pounding on my door and trying to lure me out? How are they involved?”
“Everyone needs funds. It didn’t take me long to notice that they value material possessions and their standing in the community above all else. They must spend lavishly to maintain appearances. I’m sure they also have a house in London.”
She nodded. “They do. How did you know?”
“It is where one goes to be seen by all the right people. Perhaps they met the baron there, struck up a conversation, and said baron bribed them to carry out the dirty deed for him.”
“No, it’s all too far-fetched. Forgive me... I... all this talk of faeries and my lost family... my head’s spinning.” She hadn’t felt right all day, not since those dog attacks and that bite of the wretched pie, but this was an unexpectedly acute pain. She tried to shake off her sudden weakness, but as she started to walk past him, her legs gave out. She stumbled and fell against him.
“Winnie, are you all right?” He lifted her into his arms and studied her with obvious concern.
“Yes, just clumsy. Well... I do feel a bit queasy.” The room began to spin, and a disturbing heaviness descended upon her, slithering around her like a snake to wrap itself around her body and squeeze the breath from her lungs with a blinding force. Blackness soon surrounded her. “More than a bit queasy, I fear.”
“Put your arms around me,” he said in a gentle command. “I’ll carry you up to bed.”
She didn’t protest. “Will you stay with me?”
He didn’t answer.
“Please. I feel safe with you.” Apparently, illness made her wanton, for what she truly wanted from him was too shocking ever to be considered, certainly too shocking ever to be acted upon.
She wanted him in bed with her.
* * * *
Ardaric ached to hold Winnie in his arms for the rest of the night, but he hadn’t planned on it to happen like this. She was ill and huddled against his chest, her head resting against his shoulder as she continued to shiver. They were in her bedchamber, Winnie too unsteady on her feet to be anywhere other than in bed, which meant that he’d had to stretch out beside her because she was cold and aching and her meager blanket wasn’t nearly heavy enough to keep her warm.
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