by Rebecca Dash
Ayle was transfixed by it. “That is another reason this place is special. It is filled with violence.”
“I do not see how that makes it better for us.”
“It is a living portrait of the things that stir in my soul. A violent, rushing, churning, passionate affection for you, Miss Nicholson. That is what makes this grove unique. It is as we are.”
“Is it? What can we really be? Our families hate each other.”
“My brother made everything difficult for us all. It is too late for that to matter though. The fan you carried has already spoken silently of commitments.”
“Whatever do you mean?” she said, coyly, as her cheeks became red.
He turned to her. “You promised me a kiss.”
“Are you sure you did not misinterpret the gesture?”
“Your eyes promised it as well. There is no hiding that.”
“I was taken away by the moment, my lord.”
“And what are you now?”
“Swept up even more.”
Joanna stepped closer to him. Ayle held her face gently as he kissed her, sending a tingle down her spine. A short distance from them, her sister repeatedly kicked a large tree.
“I no longer remember a time when I did not love you,” said Ayle.
“I feel exactly the same way about you as I did before, when Phyllis was still engaged to your brother, and we all spent so many happy days together.”
“As thick as two thieves.”
“That is right.” She smiled. “We used to whisper about how funny it would be if we got married as well.”
“I lived for those whispers.”
“But it is so difficult just to see you now.”
“No one ever claimed life would be easy. And finding love is the hardest part of all. People are given to their whims of the heart.”
“My heart has never wavered. I told you I would be with you a long time ago. I told you again the last time we met even though no words passed between us.”
“I thought you were lost to me,” he said. “This is like a dream.”
“Then I hope we will never wake up.”
Phyllis coughed loudly. They both glared at her.
“Are you all right?” said Joanna.
“Something got caught in my throat. It is a condition I have recently developed. I am sick as a cushion after every taradiddle I hear.”
Ayle sighed. “I am not my brother.”
“Not yet, but you are getting close. His words were only a bit sweeter. Your dream has become my nightmare, and I wish to wake up now.”
“Stop this at once,” said Joanna. “It is not why you have come.”
Phyllis sneered. “Why am I here then? To guard your fine reputation in a secret rendezvous? It is ridiculous. Our parents would not approve of anything you do here today. And you expect me to stand by and be silent?”
“I expect you to be my sister, not my keeper.”
“Why?”
“Because somewhere inside, you still know what life was like before you hated the world.”
Phyllis shook her head. “No… Not anymore, I don’t. Every wish I had has been destroyed. Those words… Those beautiful words that mean nothing. His entire family is cut from the same cloth. This is a bad joke. I am going home. You should come with me.” She followed the river back the way they came.
Lord Ayle and Miss Nicholson were silent. The water splashing over rocks seemed louder than before. More violent.
“What would I do without my family?” Joanna stared hopelessly into the torrent.
“Is that the choice you are faced with?”
“It seems so.”
“Then I will be your family, if you would have me.”
“I do not see how it could work.” She choked on the words.
“Then why come here to meet me at all?”
“For that kiss. One kiss to last a lifetime. We were ripped away from each other before. Everyone deserves a sweet goodbye.”
“After being apart for so long, you can not ask me to stay away. I will always come for you.”
“And my father would kill you on sight, if you did.”
“What does it matter? Being kept from you kills me a little each day.”
“Do not make this difficult,” she said.
“There is no other way for it to be.”
“We will always be what we were to each other. Time will not change that. I will think of it as the summer when you taught me what it means to fall in love.”
“Then we should have an endless summer.”
“They don’t exist. Not for people like us. People who have no secret place of their own.”
Joanna turned from him and ran off. He reached for her but grabbed hold of the air, instead. The twists of the river lead her out of his life.
Chapter 4
Several days had gone by. Lord Ayle passed most of that time in his study, alone with thoughts he didn’t want. That he might spend the rest of his life without her had never sunken in, even when they were separated for months. He always knew Joanna was somewhere out there, thinking of him. But was she still? Or did she do her best to erase the whole relationship from memory? He wouldn’t blame her for it. Sometimes pain had to be pushed down so far that it couldn’t hurt you anymore. Sometimes you had to go on by force of will alone. He was failing miserably at that.
Ayle would sit in the comfortable chair behind his desk for hours, wondering what he should do. Then he would pace the floor and wonder some more. It wouldn’t be any kind of life at all to waste it that way, consumed by a dream of what might have been.
It was a pleasant enough day when the groom saddled one of the horses and brought it around to the front of the house. The Marquess of Ayle put his boot in the stirrup and climbed up. He pushed his steed to a gallop, riding through the countryside. If this was going to hurt, it had to hurt completely. She must destroy him all the way. As long as he could fight for the promises they used to have, it wasn’t in his nature not to try.
The wind rushed past his face. His tailcoat fluttered outward. There it was, at last. Lord Dunbrook’s home loomed in the distance like a dark storm waiting to batter him down. It wouldn’t be much longer now.
***
Lord Ayle tugged on the reins. The horse hardly stopped before he jumped off it. His boots dug into the dirt with each determined step toward the house. A footman ran out to meet him.
“I am sorry, my lord, but I can not let you pass.”
Ayle pulled a leather pouch from his pocket and retrieved a few coins to drop in the man’s hand.
The footman shook his head. “I could lose my position.”
He tossed the entire pouch on the ground and kept walking as if The Devil himself couldn’t stop him. The footman just stared, unsure of what to do next.
The house was familiar. Ayle and his brother had been there many times before. Phyllis used to play the harp for them. Joanna would always sing. Her voice was angelic. He walked through the great hall, passing the smoking room he’d spent evenings in after supper, enjoying a brandy and a fine cigar with the baron. Then the dining room where lavish dinners were hosted in what seemed like a different, happier life. The drawing room was at the end. He checked there first if only for the chance to hear her sing again.
Joanna screamed as he burst in.
“You are lovely when you’re startled,” he said.
“What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you smile.”
“Why?”
“Because your smile is everything.”
“Good heavens,” she said. “You are surely in your altitudes.”
“I have not had a thing to drink.”
“Then you have gone mad. I told you how it has to be.”
“And you ran off before I could give a reply.”
Joanna hurried over, taking his arm and pulling him toward the door. “You must leave before my father sees you.”
“But I want him to.�
� Lord Ayle resisted.
She took a firm hold of him with both hands, pulling until he stumbled forward then pulled back, and they were in a tug of war for control of his arm.
“He is probably already on his way,” she said.
“Does it matter? What do I care if I have been banned from this place? Or if the servants try to turn me away? Am I supposed to give up on love because of that?”
“Those are very strong points in favor of it.”
“Do you want me to give up?”
“I want you to stop struggling with me now and leave.”
“That does not answer the question. Especially since I am here to marry you.”
Joanna suddenly let go. The Marquess of Ayle went stumbling backward, arms flailing, until he collided with a gold trimmed sofa, spinning over it and landing on the cushion then the floor. She covered her mouth with her hand. He braced his arm on the seat and pushed himself up on his knees.
“Are you certain you wish to marry me?” she said.
“How could I not be? I have already fallen heels over head for you, Miss Nicholson.” He got back on his feet and smiled. “All I need to know is if you want me to leave. Not what your father wants.”
“I would not like for you to be hurt.”
“Hurt? I was destroyed when you ran away at the river. But I will never bother you again if you tell me that is truly your desire.”
“How could I ever tell you that?” Tears welled up in her eyes. “It would be cruel.”
“It is not cruel to let someone know how you feel about them. The truth is the truth, no matter what I want.”
“That has never been my desire. When my father forbade me from ever speaking to you again, I died inside. I did not want to leave you then, and I would have you stay right now. I wish it could be just as it was before your brother decimated us all. Before there was such hatred between our families. How can one man do so much harm?”
Ayle came back around the sofa. “We never have to speak of him again.”
“That does not solve everything.”
He looked into her eyes. “We can not erase the past. But we have this time together. It will surely alter our lives in one way or another. Be certain it is the change you want. Leave with me.”
“And go where?”
“Anywhere you like, as long as it is together. We will get married. We will find a better life without all this turmoil.”
“My father would never allow it.”
“Your father can do nothing to stop us.”
“How money is to be divided between my sister and I is up to my parents. He would happily reduce my dowry to nothing and give it all to Phyllis.”
Ayle laughed. “I think we will manage.”
“But if you left me, I would be penniless.”
“If I left you, I would be a fool.”
“Do you really want to be with me above all others?”
“Until death parts us.”
Joanna turned away from him and looked out the window, at the large expanse of property she had grown accustomed to. It would be difficult for her to get used to living any other way. Could she trust Lord Ayle so completely? It was such a huge decision to give someone control over your future. The biggest thing she would ever do with her life. Joanna focused on him again. He still looked at her in that same soulful way. She only wished it was enough.
Angry footfalls echoed through the great hall. Her eyes got wide.
“You have to leave,” she said.
Lord Ayle faced the door. “I have no intention of sneaking off with you as if we were robbers absconding from a pack of Bow Street Runners. I am here to face your father’s anger. It is the only way in which your family might be whole.”
The footsteps got closer.
“His anger is frequently extreme,” said Joanna.
“If a man can not weather all storms with the woman he loves, he isn’t much of a man to begin with.”
“But he would still be alive. That is important.”
Ayle tilted his head, quizzically. “Pardon?”
Lord Dunbrook stormed into the drawing room carrying a pistol.
“Step away from my daughter, you rake.”
“I have not come looking for a fight.”
“It does not matter what anyone looks for. Only what they find. And you, sir, have unfathomable gall to set foot in my home.”
“Do you intend to shoot me, cold bloodedly?” Ayle moved away from Joanna.
“My blood runs very hot this day. I can assure you of that.”
“Father, please,” cried Joanna.
“Be silent, girl!”
“Yell at me, if you must yell at someone,” said Ayle. “But leave her alone.”
“I will do as I please in my house. And I have had about enough of you for two lifetimes.”
Lord Dunbrook walked over to a polished table pushed against the wall, put a second pistol down on it, then stepped away.
“Pick it up,” he said.
“I will not duel you.”
“Pick it up, I say. Then we shall step outside.”
Lord Ayle made no move for the gun. “We can fix everything between our families. It does not have to be this way.”
“You are a coward!” Dunbrook shouted it.
“I am a man who would gladly kill you if it meant that Miss Nicholson would be happier for it. Or you might kill me, instead. But how would either ending leave her any better than she is?”
“Enough of your rubbish.” The baron raised his arm, pointing the gun at the man’s chest and cocking the hammer back. “You will pick up that pistol or I shall shoot you where you stand.”
“Quit your bluster and pull the trigger then. I am here to marry your daughter. Your hatred for my family will not change anything.”
“But this will.”
The pad of Dunbrook’s finger found the trigger. His grip tightened on the gun. It felt good, like every shred of anger would leave his body as he fired.
Ayle stood there, looking the monster directly in the eye, and making no attempt to move. He wasn’t afraid of anything that might happen.
Joanna’s legs were shaking. She knew her father would really do it, as angry as he was. But she lunged anyway, diving in front of Lord Ayle. Her back hit his chest as the gun firing filled the room with an explosion. The bullet struck her. The last thing she would remember was falling into Ayle’s arms then floating as if being held up. The room went black after that.
Joanna was no longer there when he carried her to the sofa and laid her down. Or when her father dropped the pistol.
“What have I done?” he said.
Ayle let out a sound somewhere between a grunt and a scream as he spun and closed the distance between them in but a few strides. Dunbrook was stuck where his feet were planted.
Lord Ayle clenched his fist and let it fly, hitting the man with a facer that would send him to the floor. He stood over the baron, hunching down, gnashing his teeth with rage, and drawing his arm back as if to strike him again. Joanna moaned from the sofa.
The marquess went back over, swooping her up in his arms and carrying her past her father. Dunbrook opened his mouth as if to speak, but never had the opportunity.
“You come near her again and I’ll kill you,” said Ayle.
The look in his eyes was all the proof that Dunbrook required to be certain the man’s word was good in this matter. Ayle took Joanna out of the room, through the great hall, and outside to his horse, praying he could ride swiftly enough to find help.
Chapter 5
Joanna was comfortable as if lying on a cloud. It would have been grand to stay that way, but she had to get back to her wonderful marquess. Her body wouldn’t respond at first. She finally moved just enough to realize how much her shoulder hurt. When her eyes opened, she didn’t recognize the bed she was in, or even the room. Trying to get up made her groan with pain. An older woman rushed over.
“You should rest,” she said.
“But you are in a familiar place, Miss Nicholson. You need only look around to see. You are in Crescentwood Manor. I am the nurse here.”
“How did I get here?”
“I am sure Lord Ayle would want to tell you that himself.”
“Yes, maybe he should.”
Even though the nurse protested, she helped the girl to her feet and gave her fresh clothes to put on, as she seemed eager to begin a new day.
***
Joanna sat by herself in a drawing room she had been in during countless visits, when her sister was still engaged, and their family would go to Crescentwood quite frequently together. The footman brought in tea and small sandwiches. She was famished. It was strange to be there again, in a place filled with the ghosts of happier times.
Determined footsteps approached the room, and she was instantly frightened. Her mind flashed back to her father barging in on them and all the horrible things that happened afterward. The sound of the sharp crack of boots on a bare floor would stay with her for years, a grim reminder of the day her father shot her. She was relieved when Lord Ayle appeared in the doorway. Joanna ran to him, throwing her arms around his neck and wincing as her shoulder objected. He rubbed her back.
“Everything is all right now,” he said.
“It is very far from that, my lord. My father shot me.”
“You were still unconscious when we reached Crescentwood. I had my family’s physician waste no time in looking at you. He dressed your wound and assured me that the bullet went directly through your shoulder.”
“Is that good?”
“It is the best outcome to a bad situation.”
“My own father,” she said, as if in a daze.
“To be fair, he was aiming for me. What made you jump between us?”
“I finally believed you. A man might say anything, but who would ever do something so absolutely foolish?”
Ayle stepped back from her. “What do you mean by that? I thought it was a wonderful plan.”
“That is your idea of wonder? It was as if you had windmills in the head.”
He laughed. “It worked rather well until Lord Dunbrook brandished his firearm. That was most unexpected.”
