Chapter Thirteen
Her breathing had returned to normal, but her throat still burned from the smoke she’d inhaled. She would be coughing up black soot for days, she knew.
She pulled her hand from his grasp and glared at him in the darkness. “I can walk better without you tugging on my hand.”
“Try and keep up.” His tone was not kind or gentle. He was irritated, though if it was at her she couldn’t imagine what she had done.
Their escape into the woods would have been less traumatic had Luke given any indication of the events of the evening affecting him. Their night together. The betrayal of Poppins. The fire. Luke’s aloofness grated against her frayed emotions.
Her mind narrowed on one detail, something to focus on. “When Quan speaks English, he sounds French.”
Luke did not turn to look at her. They walked further into the forest, the trees growing denser, the air a tad cooler as the night enveloped them.
Vivian’s hands shook as she wrapped her arms around herself, hoping to keep warm. Her hastily pulled on dress provided little warmth.
A good length of time had passed, so much that Vivian expected he was simply ignoring her, so she was surprised to hear him speak.
“Quan is half French, half Chinese. His mother was a maid in the house of a wealthy merchant in Hong Kong. His father was a guest in the house. Needless to say, he wasn’t there for the birth nine months later. But Quan was raised as a member of the merchant’s family, educated with their children. He had lessons in fencing as well as Hung Gar Kung Fu.”
“It’s a wonder he chooses to stay on with you then,” she muttered, mostly to herself.
Luke laughed. “He is my valet, and driver, and quartermaster, but he is also my friend. When the time comes for us to part, I will send him off well compensated for putting up with me, and with the highest references.”
“You speak French?”
“I speak French rather spectacularly.”
“And Chinese.”
“Cantonese, a dialect of Chinese. I also speak Russian, some of the Germanic languages, and some Italian,” he answered. “Languages have always come easily to me.”
“You are quite the cunning linguist.” Her tone was sardonic, but it fit with every other aspect of his perfection. “I’m sure you’ve always enjoyed learning a new tongue.”
This garnered her a rather reproachful glance.
“I can only imagine the willingness of your linguistic tutors.”
Luke laughed and shook his head but didn’t add comment, which just irritated her more.
“Why do you refuse to bite back? It’s as though you refuse to argue with me. Are you so bloody perfect you can’t even argue with your wife?”
“I don’t know why you think I’m so perfect.”
She knew it was ill tempered of her, but she’d had just about enough. Her nerves were frayed, her emotions pushed past her limit of control.
“Oh, let’s see,” Vivian began, ready to count the ways on her fingers. “You speak fifteen languages—”
“I speak six languages.”
“Your easy smile likely opens doors without effort.”
“I’ve never managed to open a door with my smile alone.”
“You find a witty joke in just about everything, and everyone adores your good company.”
“I’m sure there are some who do not appreciate my cheerful nature.”
“You’re a rather magnificent kisser, though I imagine that is from years of practice.”
That earned her a pause in his walk but he didn’t turn, which she should not have taken an ounce of enjoyment from. She did not need his attentions, did not want to want his attentions either.
Her irrational annoyance at him, at the situation, boiled over and Vivian was nearly shaking with frustration.
“And I bet this is just the worst thing to happen to you! Poor lordly Luke, who has never experienced heartbreak or the true ugliness of the world.”
Luke turned to regard her with surprise. His brows rose over his lavender blue eyes, but Vivian didn’t care.
“What if this is the worst thing that has ever happened in my life? It doesn’t matter. What matters is Redley is on the run, we are fleeing for our lives, my colleague is a traitor and now we are in the middle of the woods.”
“Oh, don’t act as if we are helpless,” Vivian accused, her arms flailing in the air as her temper rose. “You’ve a plan, I know you do. And everything will work out, because that’s just how your life works. You know the rest of us mere mortals don’t have that luxury? Things just don’t work out. Most people don’t have grand families and titles to sustain them through the storm. They face the downpour on their own and do what is needed.”
He paused again, turning to regard her with a disconcerting look. “I will not argue with you, Vivian.”
“Luke stop, please,” she begged, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. The events of the evening, of the past two days, of the past week, it all caught up to her at once. She slumped down onto a fallen log and pressed her eyes closed, her chin dipping into her chest as she wrapped her arms around her head.
She sat like that for a long moment, struggling to control her breathing. She felt on the brink of tears, but none came, just the onslaught of overwhelming emotion. Panic, fear, but the past days had been so confusing, she didn’t even know what questions to ask anymore. The fear from the fire was familiar, the smoky sweet smell of the burning wood pulled up memories from the night her father died. This was the not the first time she’d escaped a fire with only her life and the clothes on her back.
She felt Luke kneel before her. He didn’t touch her at first, but the air between them vibrated with awareness.
“Have you nothing to say about any of this?” she demanded, her voice harsh in the darkness, breaths white puffs before her.
“What would you have me say?”
She couldn’t stop herself from lashing out. “Oh, I don’t know. Literally anything would do. The truth about the events of the past forty-eight hours is a grand place to start.”
Luke sighed. “Do you want all of it? Or just enough to sustain you until we have reached our destination?”
Vivian regarded him, trying to determine his meaning, but his face was covered in shadows cast by the various trees.
“I want all of it, but not right now. I need enough to give me the strength to trust you.”
Luke nodded slowly. “Ask me something.”
“Where did you go after Poppins first approached you?”
“To a set of rooms I rented, before I became Kenswick. I’d not given them up. There was a note waiting for me—the note you saw from Redley. There were aspects of the note that were alarming, but also made me questions its validity. The message held a secret meaning, which I am happy to show you how to decipher, but it would be difficult here, in the dark.”
“That secret meaning led us to Canterbury?”
He nodded. “While there, we found a series of clues and connections, ones that you helped to connect, and we found the journal and the ring Redley left.”
“But Redley was at the inn. Why didn’t he just hand you the journal and ring and avoid the secret message and sneaking through tombs?”
Luke sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t think he intended for our paths to cross.”
“And Poppins is really the traitor, and he’s tried to shift the blame to Redley?”
“It would appear so, yes. Whatever Redley discovered must involve Poppins, and he wants Redley silenced.”
“And Poppins might be after you now, assuming Redley shared the information.”
“And you, I am afraid,” he said. “You’ve been pulled into this simply because you are my wife.”
The anguish that swept through his gaze, broke her a little and she regretted her words.
“No, that’s fair,” he said as she started to apologize. “I’ve proven to be a rather dreadful husband to you. This entire escapade has bee
n highly irregular, and not what you agreed to in the first place.” His hand was soft against her cheek, but he did not move to kiss her. His face was riddled with guilt and Vivian realized something.
“This whole time we’ve been walking and I’ve berated you for basically existing… have you been beating yourself up for what happened at the inn?”
“I knew better than to let the situation get that out of hand.” His other hand came to rest against her other cheek. “Vivian, I am sorry. I was out of my mind and I cannot ever expect your forgiveness.”
The absurdness of it all was just too much. The past days’ worth of events was overwhelming. Instead of bursting into tears, she burst out in laughter.
She really did not react correctly to stressful situations. “I’m not mad at you in the slightest for what happened in the inn. I completely understand why you fought to keep the notebook from Poppins’s hands. I’m annoyed at your lack of communication.”
“Vivian we almost died in that inn.”
“But we didn’t.” She cupped her hand against his cheek, his stubble coarse against her hand. “Luke, the fire was not your fault. Poppins’s betrayal was not your fault.”
“But you stuck in that room was.”
“I have legs,” she reminded him. “I could have escaped the room on my own.”
“Why didn’t you?”
Some amount of affection was growing for him, but she couldn’t be sure of her own heart. It had led her astray once before, but this felt different. Everything with Luke was different than she’d ever experienced before. She feared six months would not be enough.
“You’re an idiot sometimes,” she said softly, rubbing the pad of her thumb across his cheekbone. His eyes drooped at the contact. “There was no way I was leaving without you.”
Pulling her into his arms, he held her tightly, his arms wrapped around her offering a comfort she hadn’t felt in a long time. She sighed into the embrace; breathing in his normal cinnamon smell tinged with smoke. He held her for a long moment, but she didn’t want him to let her go.
“I am sorry you lost the journal,” she said as he pulled away from her, his arms not dropping from her shoulders. “Is all hope lost?”
“No. But I need time and a safe place to examine his initial note further.”
Vivian glanced around the thicket of woods they’d stopped in. The sun had risen but was barely above the horizon, casting pink and gold beams through the trees. “Where might we find such a place?”
Luke winced, and another piece fell into place.
“We haven’t been walking aimlessly this entire time, have we?”
“No. We happen to be close to Bradstone Park.”
“Of course we are.”
“Did you think I didn’t have a plan?”
“Honestly, I wasn’t quite sure what to think. You’ve never told me what is going on.”
Luke rose. “Are you ready to keep moving? We still have a bit of a walk ahead of us.”
“Then by all means, lead the way.” Her tone was snide, but she didn’t care. He’d explained away some of the more pressing questions she had, but there was more he was holding back. There seemed to be a dark rabbit hole she was on the brink of tumbling into. He’d given her a moment to decide if she truly wanted to know everything. She suspected whatever it was he had to say would change things.
They walked on for a length of time. Vivian had no idea how long it was. She wasn’t exactly counting the seconds as they passed, but it was long enough for her feet to begin to ache. The boots she tugged on during their escape from the inn were not meant for trekking through the woods.
“Why are you opposed to arguing?” she asked, breaking into the stillness of the predawn hours.
Silence. Irritating and frustrating silence was all he was willing to offer.
“Come on now, you gave me answers before. This seems like an easy one. Did your parents argue? Or your siblings? Have you some aversion to an argument?”
Luke sighed but did not slow his pace. “I told you before, I was not likely to make a good husband. I was married once before, Vivian. I was rubbish at it then, so do not be too put out with me that I am rubbish at it now.”
Chapter Fourteen
Vivian stopped short, and nearly tripped over the exposed roots of a tree. He what?
She hurried after him, hoping he would provide more of an explanation. The rabbit hole she’d feared had just torn right open, like a crack in the earth about to swallow her whole.
“Did you argue with your wife?” It was a strange question to ask.
“All we did was argue,” he admitted. “We would argue, we would make up. But the whole relationship was toxic. Wonderful and stunning, but it was poison.”
Vivian’s tone turned gentle as she realized the problem. “We can have an argument and it won’t destroy our relationship. You cannot simply shut me out and not communicate with me, because that is also toxic. We have been married for two days, Luke, and I won’t last the next five months and twenty-eight days if we don’t talk to each other.”
“That’s a little more than the business arrangement we initially agreed on.”
“I think we can both recognize that the relationship we initially agreed on has turned into something else.”
That pulled his attention and he stopped and turned to consider her. His brows pinched together as he thought over what she had just said but she wasn’t going to give him an opportunity to probe further.
“What was her name?”
After a long moment, he answered, his voice resigned. “Colette. And she died.”
She’d assumed as much but hadn’t wanted to ask. “Did you love her?”
Yes, because that was such a better question.
With a shrug Luke turned and continued walking. “Yes. And no. It was very complicated. We did not mix well together, except when we did, and those moments became fewer and fewer as time went on. My family does not know that I was married, so if you could please not mention this.”
Vivian nodded, though he couldn’t see her movements. “I won’t say anything.”
They walked along for another half hour or so in the darkness, but morning approached, and light began to seep into the surroundings, casting a silvery glow into the shadows.
“Are you certain we are going the right direction?”
“Yes, I am.”
“How can you be certain?”
“I grew up traipsing about these woods. I know them well.”
“But that was a long time ago. They might have changed. We could be walking in circles and not even realize it.”
“We are not walking in circles. This way is north.”
Vivian huffed. “How can you know that?”
“Because the sun is rising that way.” He pointed towards their right. “That is east, this is north. Bradstone Park is north of Canterbury.”
Vivian glowered at his back as he continued walking, so sure of himself and his navigational skills. Of course, he knew what way was north. He probably knew all sorts of tricks to get out of such predicaments. Nothing bad would ever befall Luke Macalister.
Except his wife had died. That was certainly something. If this had been a real relationship, a real marriage, it might have bothered her to know he’d withheld that information from her, but as it was not, it truly didn’t matter. This was purely a convenient arrangement. Despite the drastic turn their agreement had taken, it was still not real.
What they’d shared in the bed at the inn had been real, as was their attraction to each other. That they didn’t need to fake.
She’d not even had time to examine how she felt about the intimacies they’d shared at the inn. She couldn’t believe she’d stripped off her nightgown in the middle of the night and practically accosted him, but he’d responded exactly as she’d wanted him to. So soon after they were escaping a burning building, and it didn’t seem prudent to dwell on the fact they were truly married now. What they’d done bra
nded her to him, in more ways than a sentimental fake wedding could, or the legal papers they’d signed. For better or worse, she was his wife.
They’d popped out on a long drive, the land open to the horizon. A house sat far back from where they were, but even from a distance Vivian could appreciate its size.
“Norah said your entire family was gathered this weekend.” The white gravel crunched softly under her boots. Birds darted back and forth over their heads; their morning chatter a welcome sound. It reminded her of home.
“Yes, unfortunately. I’d hoped to avoid them altogether.”
“Do you not like your family?”
“I adore my family. They can all be a bit meddling, but they mean well, I think.”
“Tell me about them. But you must do it in verse.”
Luke stopped short; his head whipped around to her. “I beg your pardon?”
This was the best apology she was willing to offer. Inviting his silliness into the catastrophe of the day.
“Like a story. It might make it easier to remember if it were in verse.”
A smile crept across her husband’s face, the morning light glinting in his eyes. “Challenge accepted.”
With one arm dramatically in the air and his other over his heart, he recited:
“Once upon a time, some many years ago,
The Macalisters began to marry, though it wasn’t easy, you know.
Andrew was brooding and unpleasant, and almost married Clara’s twin.
Clara was forced to go away, and thought she’d never see him again.
But when her brother wanted her gone, Andrew saved the day.
Andrew and Clara are Bradstone, proof love will find a way.”
“Oh, that’s dreadful,” Vivian muttered.
“It was.”
“Your rhyme is dreadful. The story is lovely.”
Luke grinned and continued.
“Susanna and Ian are Westcott, and are a rather remarkable pair.
Westcott works for the government; Susanna teaches orphans with care.
Susanna was nearly engaged to another, when she wandered into Ian’s path.
The Spy’s Convenient Bride: The Macalisters, Book Five Page 17
