“Will he ever walk again?”
Marcus stepped back, disappointed. He’d thought better of her. “Does that matter to you?”
She turned. “Oh no. No, not in the way you think. It’s just that ... the way he is, somebody like me appeals to him, but I think if he were on his feet again and could have any woman he wanted—”
“He would choose you.”
Abby laughed as if he told a fine joke. “The new Garr might,” she said. “But not the old.”
“I think you’re wrong, and how do you know who the old Garr would have chosen?” He led her to a chair and sat facing her, holding her hands. “Of course Garrett’s been changed by the accident, Abby. I have too. We’re both more aware of how precious life is. How short it can be. We both want—need—to live it to its fullest. Instead, what do we do but come to Peacehaven and lose our hearts. Frankly, we’re both scared witless we’ll never recover them.”
Abby’s smile was sad. “If it’s any consolation, I can tell you that the women you’ve lost your hearts to have lost theirs as well.”
He grimaced. If only he could believe her. “Do me a favour?”
She tilted her head. “That depends on what it is.”
“Move back downstairs. Help Eloisa. I don’t mean to importune you—no that’s not right; I do intend it.” He unclenched her hand and kissed it. “If you do nothing else, talk to Garr. And soon.”
She pulled her hands from his. “I can’t talk to him. When I’m near him, I can’t think straight. I end up—” She coloured. “Not thinking straight. Not thinking at all, I should say.”
He rose and kissed her brow. “I think Garr needs you even more than Eloisa does. Think about talking to him.”
She nodded but she looked frightened.
“Well, what did she say?”
Marcus continued to push Garr’s chair along the garden path. “I couldn’t get her to commit, one way or another, but I made a good case for her talking to you. Sorry.”
“That’s all right. Jade would barely speak to me, except to tell me that Emily has been left an orphan, which shocked me, I must say. And the child’s calling you Papa, Marc. Is that wise? What’s going to happen to her?”
Marcus stopped before a bench and came around to face his brother. “Jade is going to keep her. That one problem is solved at least, that is if Jade doesn’t get herself injured de-railing the train or doing something else as foolish.”
“Well, if Jade’s keeping her, then you’re all set, aren’t you? You’ll be her papa.”
Since Marcus had never revealed his vow to Garr, that he would not leave him for as long as he sat in that chair, his brother had no notion his assumption was improbable. “No, I’m not all set. Pay attention here, Garr. Jade has no intention of keeping me, remember? Did you learn anything new about her grandmother, by the way, while I was gone?”
“No, but what I learned about her grandfather is interesting.”
“What, that he abused Jade’s grandmother?”
“No, that he just disappeared one day. Nobody knows, even now, if he’s dead or alive.”
“Jade said he died, and she should know.”
“Beecher lived here when the old man did. I should think he’d know whether he died or not. Maybe Jade just takes it for granted that he died, given the fact he’d probably be as old as dirt.”
“Maybe,” Marcus said.
“What are you going to do about her?” Garr asked.
“First I’m going to try to keep her safe.” He shuddered, icy with dread, and shook the feeling off. “Once the railroad goes through, I would have ... liked ... to ask her to marry me.” He’d still very much like to. But he never would.
“Don’t ask,” Garr said. “My proposal scared the devil out of Abby.”
Marcus had to sit. “You asked Abby to marry you?”
“Of course I did. What do you take me for?”
“The scoundrel you’ve always been, what else?” Garrett frowned. “Looks like we’ve outgrown our philandering. How will you keep Jade out of trouble tonight?”
“I have a plan.”
Marcus left the house before dusk that night, certain he got away undetected. He’d unsealed the door in his bedroom wall and used the hidden stairs to the smuggler’s cave. He still had Jade’s key to the door leading from the stairs to the cave in his possession—having kept it the day she found him in the cave—so he could return later the way he came.
At the construction site, the train carrying the lumber and rails arrived about two hours after him, pulled by the Jenny Lind from the First Sussex Line. Marcus knew the engineer and most of the workers, including the guards who would remain on the site for the night.
The engineer used the steam engine to push the flatbed lumber cars as far as the mouth of the unfinished bridge, and the cars stacked with rails were backed up to the current termination of the temporary side spur. The unloading and stacking of supply and hardware crates took a great deal more time than Marcus expected, making him worry that Jade would arrive and find him working with men he obviously knew.
Too close to midnight to be comfortable, the train huffed and sputtered, ready to depart, and Marcus ordered the guards to get aboard and go with it—a last-minute change of plans.
The single oil lantern fitted on the engine before the stack laid a path of unwanted light. With its new parabolic reflector, the lamp cast a beam a thousand yards long, announcing the train’s position to all and sundry, even to those too far away to hear it. Yes, railroading had come a long way, but tonight Marcus wished engine lighting had taken a while longer.
Keeping his eye on that beam, Marcus watched the Jenny Lind until she rounded the bend and disappeared from sight, only then breathing a sigh of relief.
The future of so many people depended on the success of the South Downs Railroad. The crew had about a mile of track to lay on Jade’s land, if they ever got that far, before track finally reached Tidemills. One foot of track inside the perimeter of Tidemills by the thirtieth of the month would fulfil Parliament’s requirement. Twelve miles to go, at most.
So near, yet so far.
If they reached Tidemills and kept their charter, they would be able to extend the route to Seaford next summer, and their home village would flourish—a bonus.
Tidemills, on the other hand, would die—and fast—if they failed to reach it.
Marcus sighed and put aside his anxiety, for the moment, to find himself a good spot to sit and wait on one of the flatbed lumber cars. He assumed Jade would try to dump the ties in the river again, since she could lift the short pieces of lumber, piece by piece.
The contents of the other two cars were a different story entirely. Cast-iron T-section fish-belly rails were too heavy for one man to carry. They also cost a great deal more than the lumber, because with railroads bisecting the world, they were in great demand in America as well as here and in Europe. Anyone with an ounce of railroad knowledge would know that destroying those rails would cripple construction much more efficiently than drowning any amount of lumber.
Good thing Jade didn’t know that ... he hoped!
Perched high above the River Ouse, Marcus took a deep relaxing breath. For the moment, at least, his world remained peaceful and quiet, except for a whisper of wind carrying the scent of wild thyme from the downs. When he settled the railroad’s problems, he’d take Emmy for a walk and show her the wild orchids growing in the chalk of the downs. Little pup Mucks would enjoy such a trek as well.
Marcus remembered Emmy’s delight when the pup’s nose popped out of that basket. When her jealousy over baby Mac surfaced, he witnessed Emmy’s insecurity and knew he needed to protect her as much as she needed him to. Amazing how fast he’d fallen in love with that little girl.
Emily looked better tonight, happier. The tiny Mucks slinking beneath her blankets to curl up behind her knees for the night delighted her and made her giggle as Marcus tucked her in.
“Night, Papa,” she
’d said, and as he kissed her, he wanted to promise he’d keep her safe forever ... her and Jade, except he couldn’t promise any such thing. He may never have that freedom.
Lord how he wanted them to be a family. He and Emmy and Jade. But if Garr never walked again, and Jade couldn’t trust him enough to share the secret of a fear so powerful it could reduce her to breaking the law, they could never have a life together.
“I adore you,” he whispered in the dark. “Please don’t do anything foolish.”
He heard the crack of a twig, almost as he said it, coming from the woods through which Jade must pass. Though Marcus’s eyes had long-since adjusted to the dark, he could see no one as he examined the edge of the beech wood.
Then he saw her, in breeches of course, and very much alone.
He had originally intended to stay out of it by setting a trap and using the guards to catch her and lock her up to keep her safe.
But he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t.
He expected her to climb on the lumber car closest to the river, where he sat waiting.
Hopefully, coming face with him would be enough to shock her and set her on a safe path. A weak plan, he realized suddenly, yet he prayed it would work.
She hesitated, as if frightened, which meant she had more common sense than he thought. Good. But almost as if she couldn’t allow him relief, she dispelled it by throwing back her shoulders and heading straight for the railcars.
Bloody hell.
A shot rang out and Jade fell to the ground.
Chapter Fourteen
Jade might be hurt, bleeding. Oh God.
A frozen second, and Marcus rolled from his perch to the far side of the car and hit the ground running, a bullet buzzing by his ear.
Jade. He needed to get to Jade without bringing attention to himself, or she would be done for. He circled behind the railcar. They’d caught the first gunman, damn it, and locked him up. So who the bloody devil was shooting at her now?
Another shot. A man’s curse. Somebody wanted Jade dead.
“Marcus!” Jade called and relief washed over him.
From the nearer side of the lumber car, he made straight for her, standing now, the fool, and grasped her waist at a run, hauling her into the cover of the woods.
“Are you hurt?” Marcus stopped, pulled her down, and ran his hands over her.
“No.” She pushed him away but he continued to hover, to protect her with his body.
Two shots in a row this time.
Marcus covered her more fully with his body. “You called my name,” he said against her ear.
“I wanted you to stop shooting.”
Marcus reared back, and felt the blood drain from his face. “You don’t mean that.”
“Of course not, dolt,” she said with a shuddering sigh. “I needed your help. It’s called instinct. I was scared witless.”
“About time.” Marcus curled her closer and tighter under him and raised his head to peer through the trees. He heard the shot but saw the fiery flash that followed on the instant.
“The railcar,” he said, and it exploded, almost in slow motion, piece by blasted piece, literally, and the sky rained splintered wood and cast-iron shards.
Marcus appreciated the thick cover of beech trees, though something caught him on the hip, seared through his clothing and burned his flesh. The pain of it flared and turned to a dull throb at about the same time the pelting of debris subsided.
Considering the danger, they got off easy.
The night went quiet. “I didn’t do it,” Jade whispered as he allowed her to sit up, the tremble in her voice belying her calm.
“You damn near got yourself blown to hell anyway,” he snapped, snatching her close, burying his face in her dusty hair. “You might have been on that car when it exploded. Oh God, Jade.”
They shuddered as one.
Despite her wobbly legs, Jade pulled away and got to her feet, as if to dash from the woods to the construction site.
Marcus caught her hand and pulled her up short. “Are you out of your mind? Where the devil do you think you’re going?”
“I want to find the man shooting at me.”
“Why? So he can get a clear aim?”
Her struggle to free herself from his hold escalated, but he managed to overcome her, throw her over his shoulder and start walking despite the fire in his hip.
“Let me go, you bully.”
“He mustn’t have seen us run into the woods,” Marcus said.
“Put me down.”
“Be quiet and thank whoever watches over foolish women that this new gunman’s eyesight equalled his marksmanship.”
“Where are you taking me?”
“Back to Peacehaven.”
“Let me go, damn you.”
“Not until I put your foolish self in your foolish bed, safe and sound. Even then, I’m not sure I’ll let go.”
She kicked him and damned near ended all chance of their having children.
“Will you stop that!” He made to spank her, but ended up palming her neat bottom and enjoying the process.
Jade mocked him with her laugh. “Don’t you ever stop thinking about your baser needs?”
“My baser needs have grown stronger and more persistent since the day you circled me wearing this wicked costume. Yours have rather blossomed as well. Remember that morning you—”
She smacked his back with both fists. “Go to hell, Marcus Fitzalan.”
His gasp ended on a chuckle. “Only if you come with me, Jade Smithfield.” He stroked her inner thigh, thinking to awaken some of her needs, heightening his own, instead, until she began to fight him in earnest.
By the time they neared her smuggler’s cave, she’d become a true hellcat, biting, scratching and kicking, so Marcus walked straight into the Channel and didn’t stop even when the salt water worked seared the burn on his hip with a soothing, healing magic.
To stop Jade from kicking and screaming about the freezing water, Marcus dropped her in.
When he pulled her up, she gasped and swallowed air. “You rotten scum of a serpent’s spawn,” she said, before she pushed him under.
Above and below the water, they grappled, until Marcus’s burn felt better for the consistent salt water wash, and his baser needs, however cold, stood at full alert. He wanted to put period to her fury and get them inside to a warm fire and a blazing reconciliation.
Above water once again, Marcus waylaid Jade as she lunged his way once more. “Wait!” he said. “What’s that?”
Like a shot, she wrapped her arms around his neck, and her legs around his waist. “What?”
“Big and scaly,” he improvised. “Swimming this way.”
Jade screamed, and clung, and Marcus made for the beach, as quick as he could, though Jade somehow managed to reach land ahead of him.
Halfway to the cave, she fell to the shingle, panting. “I can’t go on.”
He bent to skim her long black hair back from her eyes and hook it behind her ears. “You can.”
“No,” she wailed. “Leave me here to die.”
Marcus kissed her brow. “We were too close to death already tonight. If you don’t mind, I think we should celebrate life.”
She stilled and looked up at him.
He fell to his knees. “Kiss me Jade, like you mean it. As if there’s no tomorrow. Kiss me like the scandal you’re so proud to be.”
The kiss she bestowed formed a perfect blend of the innocent and the erotic, but before she felled him with its intensity, and they ended on their backs with sand where sand should never go, Marcus broke the kiss and rose to swing her into his arms.
Jade held on and lay her head on his chest. “What kind of a celebration?”
He didn’t speak, he kept walking, and once they stood in the stairwell and she grabbed the lantern from the landing, he saw her gaze, as intense as his, eyes smoky, lids heavy. They may be covered in gooseflesh, but between them they were so hot, ’twas a wonder the
English Channel hadn’t come to a boil.
Almost since he met Jade, he’d dreamed of making slow exquisite love to her, over and over again, of savouring her to his heart’s content, of having her all to himself for time without end ... which remained impossible and would do so until they settled the widening track between them.
But tonight, he would take every moment he could get.
He’d imagined taking her hard and fast or so slow, she’d beg for completion. He’d imagined sleeping with her in his arms for longer than a moment, longer than a lifetime.
Proper Scoundrel Page 17
