She nodded. His dark eyes seemed to bore right through her, the gaze so bold that she could almost feel her heart knocking against her ribs as she struggled against his mesmerising stare. ‘Yes. He hasn’t hurt me.’
A scowl darkened Kit’s brow. ‘Not through lack of trying,’ he stated.
‘I never expected to see you,’ Serena remarked.
Kit lifted a sleek, black eyebrow. ‘Ever?’
‘So soon.’
‘I couldn’t keep away,’ he said with a smile.
Thomas was glaring at them both, hatred burning like a fire within his breast. ‘Your concern for this she-cat is touching, Brodie,’ he rasped, sensing an advantage as he tried to bring his strident breathing under control. ‘You show more for her than you do her cousin.’
Kit glanced at him sharply. ‘What do you mean by that remark?’ he asked, a coldness congealing around his heart. ‘You speak of Dorothea, my betrothed, I think.’
‘I realise you are still under that assumption, but that is no longer the case. Dorothea is betrothed to me now. Since your arrest and condemnation as a traitor, Lord Carberry has seen fit to cancel the arrangement made between you.’
Kit spun round to Serena. ‘Is this true?’
She nodded, thinking that the icy coldness in his eyes and hard set to his jaw would have done justice to an executioner.
The windows of Kit’s understanding were suddenly blown wide open, igniting all the tapers of hellfire. In two short strides he was in front of Thomas, his face contorted with dark fury as he glared at him. ‘By God, what treachery is this? You are to marry Dorothea?’
With venom Thomas smiled smugly. ‘I am. She has no objections to the change of groom. In fact, she is in favour. Dorothea has excellent taste and wants only the best. In short, she prefers me to you, Brodie.’
Kit sprang at him, seizing him by the neck of his doublet and giving vent to a stream of oaths and insults that would have done credit to any trooper under his command. His face became convulsed by a spasm of violent rage. The idea of Dorothea married to this depraved animal seared through him like a red-hot blade, bringing a bitter taste to his mouth.
Transfixed by Kit’s reaction, Serena had not realised until that moment how much he must love Dorothea, and how hurt and resentful he must be feeling, discovering she was to wed another man. Because that other man was Thomas Blackwell would make it harder for him to bear. As for herself, she was assailed by confusion and lowered her face to hide a hurt she could not confess to.
But Serena wasn’t to know that Kit’s rage was because something had been taken from him rather than any romantic feelings he might cherish for Dorothea. He pushed Thomas back against the stairs. ‘Then marry her and be damned to you, Blackwell. But I have not done with you yet. Because of you and your malicious lies I have been branded a traitor. I will not rest until you have exerted as much effort as you did to discredit me as you will to clear my name. We both know I am guiltless of the crime of treason, and only you can restore me to the king’s good graces.’
‘Over my dead body,’ sneered Thomas contemptuously.
Kit’s hard face was wiped clean of any expression. ‘So be it. You carry a sword. Prepare to defend yourself, Blackwell. Let us have this out in the open between us with some mark of honour.’
Acceding to Kit’s demand for a duel, Thomas nodded, his eyes gleaming murderously. ‘My pleasure.’
‘No,’ cried Serena wildly, rushing forward to try and stop them spilling blood. ‘You cannot do this.’
Kit threw her an exasperated glare. ‘Stay out of this,’ he ordered between his teeth, his face rigid. ‘This is between Blackwell and me. It is not your affair.’
Trembling with fright, meekly Serena obeyed and crouched against the wall, feeling physically ill and watching in helpless misery as the two men faced each other, the hatred and contempt they felt for each other vibrating between them.
Quickly Thomas unsheathed his sword and launched an attack. Kit answered the invitation by raising his own, and a clash of swords reverberated around the walls of the cavernous hall as the naked blades met in a shower of sparks. Both men were adept swordsmen of formidable strength, defending and gaining the advantage alternately, jabbing and parrying, the attack aggressive. But Kit’s blade began to threaten and Thomas was made to twist and dance to avoid his relentless thrusts; the speed that Kit exerted, encircling, forcing him to move faster. Sweat beaded Thomas’s brow as he struggled to dodge the shining length of steel which nicked and snipped, the rents in his doublet becoming bloodied.
With a subtle caress with his clever blade, Kit finally lunged, the tip of the double-edged rapier disappearing into Thomas’s shoulder. Thomas staggered back. At first his reaction was sluggish and his eyes widened. His hand gripped his shoulder to feel blood already oozing through his fingers. Appalled, he fell to his knees and stared up at the tall, noble man, whose lips were stretched across his teeth in a savage snarl, and Thomas could feel the cold steel of the blade poised against his throat as Brodie prepared for the kill.
Serena rushed forward, knowing Kit’s fury was so great he would do just that. ‘No,’ she cried. ‘Please don’t kill him.’
Kit turned his head and stared at her with incredulity. ‘What? After what he is guilty of? Why should I spare a dog intent on rape? He would not have spared you.’
‘You saved me,’ she whispered, unable to understand why she should want this monster who had sought to violate her to live. She only knew that she did not want to be responsible for ending any man’s life.
Kit cursed softly and lowered his sword. ‘Be thankful Mistress Carberry has a soft heart, Blackwell. Left to me, I would finish you now.’
‘And add murder to your crimes?’
Kit shrugged. ‘Who would know? In a short time Mistress Carberry and I will be in Flanders.’ He turned and looked at Serena. ‘I take it that is the reason why you are attired so strangely? Am I right in assuming that you have run away from your uncle and that you are on your way to join your father?’
‘Yes. The moment I knew Uncle William intended marrying Dorothea to Sir Thomas, I found it impossible to remain at Carberry Hall any longer.’ Serena glowered at Thomas, moving closer to him and speaking with derisive scorn. ‘My loathing of you is so great that I could not bear to be close to you. Because I chanced to smile at you, you had me figured out for an easy tumble.
‘I despise you and can only pity Dorothea. If your abuse of her is half as violent as it has been towards me, then she will most likely expire on her wedding night. I would give ten years of my life to see you lying dead at my feet, and I only asked Lord Brodie to spare you because of the dire consequences to ourselves should it become known he killed you.’
Freed from the threat of Kit’s blade, Thomas staggered to his feet, clutching his wounded shoulder, his face having darkened to a livid red. Such hatred sparked in his eyes that Serena involuntarily shivered.
‘I give you fair warning,’ he growled at Serena. ‘Hide yourself from me when next we meet.’
Having sheathed his sword, Kit brandished his pistol in front of Thomas yet again, speaking in a tightly controlled tone, his expression hard and cold.
‘If you ever touch her again I will kill you. You will not escape me a third time. Take care that you heed my words, Blackwell. I should hate to make Dorothea a widow before she becomes a wife. And yet I might be doing her a favour if I were to blow your head off here and now and spare her the indignities and misery which will be her lot when she becomes your wife. It would not distress me in the slightest, and I only refrain from doing so because Mistress Carberry has asked me to spare you.’
Kit looked at Serena, his dark eyes holding hers in an unrelenting gaze. ‘Are you ready to leave?’
She nodded. With trembling fingers she knotted her hair and placed the hat back on her head, grasping the bag with her few possessions in it.
Without further ado Kit bound Thomas hand and foot, ignoring his clenc
hed teeth and sharp intake of breath, which betrayed the pain he was clearly suffering from his injured shoulder. Propping him up against the wall, Kit smiled down at him.
‘Forgive me for leaving you in such discomfort. For obvious reasons I cannot allow you to go free. Mistress Carberry and I must be well on our way before you raise the hue and cry. You can be certain someone will come by when it’s light to plunder the house further.’
Breathing hard, Thomas glared at Kit and ground his teeth on meeting the mockery in his dark eyes, hating him, hating the tolerant smile, the imperturbable confidence and unruffled composure.
‘You have slept your last peaceful night, Brodie. Mark me well.’
‘I am the marquess of Thurlow—and mark me well, Blackwell. I will not be mocked.’
In the candles’ glow Thomas watched them go, hearing a door shut, closely followed by the sound of their horses’ hooves as they disappeared into the dark, wet night, intent on escape.
Unfortunately, the strong current of air that swept into the hall when Kit opened the door to leave blew a lighted candle over. It fell on to some curtains the searchers had left strewn on the floor. They caught light almost immediately, and the house was soon engulfed with flames.
Lord Carberry’s rage, caused by his niece’s disappearance shortly after she had left the house, was absolute. With a small party of men he was soon in hot pursuit, heading towards Ripley, strongly suspecting that Serena intended calling at Dunedin Hall before journeying south. It was the flames lighting up the night sky that made them proceed with all haste.
Chapter Seven
Serena matched her horse’s speed with that of Kit’s, neither of them turning to see the red glow in the night sky. She glanced across at her companion, unable to see his features clearly, but she could make out the rigid outline of his jaw and the glitter of his dark eyes as he looked ahead.
‘Thank you for arriving when you did,’ she said when they slowed their horses. ‘It seems that Sir Thomas is determined to pursue me to the bitter end.’
‘You may be right, which is one reason why I should have killed him when I had the chance. Blackwell never forgives the slightest wound to his pride, and your determination not to submit to his desire will have dented it badly.’
‘He is the reason why I left Carberry Hall. I couldn’t bear to watch him dance attendance upon Dorothea.’
When Kit thought of Dorothea’s betrothal to Thomas Blackwell, his lips twisted with excruciating distaste. The very idea of the gentle Dorothea being initiated into the joys of love by Thomas he found obscene. There was also something repugnant about Lord Carberry, who was an avaricious man with the finely honed instincts of a horse trader.
‘It’s plain my betrothal to Dorothea has been blighted by the discovery of the Gunpowder Plot and my assumed involvement, so I’m not really surprised that Lord Carberry has withdrawn his favour,’ said Kit, quietly angry and infuriated by Lord Carberry’s casual dismissal of his suit. But despite Lord Carberry’s betrayal, he would not vent his spite.
‘Having chosen to overlook Blackwell’s disgraceful conduct in the Low Countries, he seems perfectly satisfied with him since he possesses all the prerequisites of title and wealth—while not forgetting that he is a devout Protestant. But I share your opinion of Blackwell, and my heart quakes at the thought of Dorothea being married to him.’
‘She was eager to do her father’s bidding and is not marrying him against her will—quite the opposite, in fact,’ Serena informed him. ‘Dorothea is quite enamoured and cannot wait for the wedding to take place. As for myself—well—I can only hope she survives the ordeal.’
Serena studied Kit’s chiselled profile etched against the black night, and if it were not so dark she would have seen there was an angry slant to his brow and a tight set to his lips. She wondered how he really felt about Dorothea marrying Sir Thomas, and how deeply he was hurting.
Absently Kit tried to recall Dorothea’s features, but the images were less distinct than the sweet sound of her voice and the gentleness of her nature. He became troubled—even more so when he realised that the thought of the young woman he should have married did not stir as powerful emotions either in his breast or in his loins as did the thought of the vibrant and beautiful Serena riding by his side.
‘How do you come to be in Ripley?’ Serena asked, breaking into his thoughts.
Kit glanced across at her, wondering how she would react if she knew where his thoughts had wandered, and he smiled speculatively to himself. ‘Not only did I return to confront Blackwell—I also came to see you. On my arrest I learnt that a warrant had been issued for your father’s arrest but that he had escaped.’
‘You were fortunate to escape yourself. Did you come to Warwickshire at once?’
‘No. I had need of a horse and some money so I went to Chelsea to see Ludovick. I hid there for a while before heading north. It gave me no pleasure running from the capital like some whipped cur, but the alternative was the Tower.’
‘You—you said you came to see me. Why?’ Serena asked. For some reason she could not explain she was exhilarated that he had cared enough to seek her out.
‘It was important for me to know what happened. Do you know how deep your father was involved with the conspiracy—how much he knew?’
‘Nothing. He had no knowledge of the inner workings of the plot. Catesby told him he needed horses to form a troop of horse for the Netherlands and he believed him—but he was uneasy.’
Kit nodded. ‘It’s as I thought—but I doubt he would be believed by the interrogators who are baying for blood.’
‘He knew that, which is why he escaped to Flanders.’
‘He was wise to do so. Have you heard from him?’
‘No. I don’t even know if he is safe. I can’t help worrying about him,’ Serena said, her voice heavy with concern.
‘That is natural. Plans for the intensive interrogation of the conspirators and their allies are being worked out by the government. Information is being sought fervently, and there is a degree of vindictiveness in the way they are going about it. They are making it an excuse to settle old scores with the recusant Catholics—which is precisely what Blackwell is guilty of where I am concerned.
‘Having accused me of being mixed up in the conspiracy, he has produced damning evidence to substantiate his accusation. Wives and other members of the conspirators’ families are in a perilous situation. Many have been taken to London and housed with the city aldermen where they await interrogation.’
Alarmed, Serena glanced across at him. ‘Do you think I am in danger of being arrested?’
Kit met her gaze. ‘It is highly probable. If so, your uncle’s protection will not save you.’
‘I think I am in greater danger from Sir Thomas than I am from the government,’ Serena said on a wry note. She frowned suddenly in puzzlement. They had reached a crossroads and it became evident to her that Kit intended taking the road north towards Coventry. ‘This is not the way we must take,’ she said, bringing her horse to an abrupt halt. ‘This is not the road south.’
Kit had ridden on a little way, but came back when he saw she had stopped. ‘I have no intention of going south,’ he told her bluntly.
Serena struggled to quell her disappointment. ‘Then we must part. I must go south. I have to.’
‘No. You, my dear Mistress Carberry, are coming north with me.’
Serena’s eyes flew to his in alarm. Instantly all her anxieties returned and the camaraderie of a moment before began to crumble. Her heart, which had been curiously touched by his earlier solicitude, hardened, and her face turned mutinous. Kit’s words were an order, and she bridled at his arrogant assumption that she would go with him without question. It broke the spell and whipped up her anger.
‘I shall do nothing of the kind,’ she snapped, her eyes as stormy as the sky overhead. ‘How dare you assume authority over me. I’ve told you I intend following my father to Flanders, and if you try stoppi
ng me I shall fight you tooth and nail.’
Kit grinned thinly, his eyes gleaming down into hers like pieces of flint. For the first time a spark of anger flared in their dark depths. ‘That sounds more like the Serena Carberry I remember,’ he commented coldly. ‘I am aware of what you would like to do to me—that you would take great delight in scratching my eyes out—but you can rant and rail all you like. You are too much of a frail and fragile female to substantiate your threats.’
‘Ha! Frailty, indeed,’ Serena scoffed in outrage. ‘Why, you—’
‘You are in grave danger and I have no intention of letting you remain here. When Blackwell comes to his senses he will follow you,’ Kit said harshly. ‘After using you most cruelly to his own ends he will have you arrested—and, believe me, it will be no picnic.’
Serena was so angry she almost flew at him. Remaining adamant, she dismounted, drawing her horse to the side of the road where she was insensible to the rain dripping from the trees on to the crown of her hat and settling in the brim. ‘I will not go with you.’
‘Yes, you will,’ Kit stated in a voice that brooked no argument, also dismounting and going to stand beside her. ‘You’re in trouble up to your pretty little neck. No display of outraged pride will get you out of it. Face it. Your father is accused of treason and has absconded. Like it or not, there is every possibility that you will be accused of collusion and harbouring a priest.’
Kit towered above Serena. When she looked up at him she felt the full weight of his lethal stare and thought she had never seen him look so tall or so formidable. She stared at him in amazement. ‘Are you referring to Andrew?’
‘Who else?’
Conspiracy of Hearts Page 11
