by Sophia James
He gestured for a servant to refill her glass.
‘I have a few mounts of my own in London which I will have brought up. Nowhere near as many as I used to have, but still...’
‘Enough to start.’
He smiled and looked at her and the feeling that was hidden in her heart swelled to bursting, though loud footsteps just outside the chamber took their attention.
When a young girl hurried in Daniel stood and the newcomer threw herself into his arms, her long dark hair loose and her eyes overflowing with tears.
‘Andrew Howard...is hurt and...I have...lost Caroline completely.’ Her breath was ragged and fast as though she had been running for a long while.
Daniel looked more than taken aback. ‘What are you doing here, Gwen? Where is Mama?’
Gwen. His sister? His arms were still about her, though she grabbed his hand now and began to pull him from the room.
‘Andrew is outside...I think your man is helping him from the carriage, but Caroline...is at an inn about five miles back.’
‘A shabby sort of two-storey building with a large fireplace outside?’ When she nodded he asked a further question. ‘Why were you there?’
‘We were coming to see you as we were worried about you,’ the girl wailed. ‘Mama forbade us to make the journey to Montcliffe, but Andrew managed to procure a carriage and we came anyway. Caroline needed to stop for...’ She left the rest unsaid as she carried on. ‘Andrew said he would be our guard...and now he is hurt. Badly I think, because there is a lot of blood and it is all our fault.’
Daniel was already striding outside and everyone followed him. Lucien’s younger brother lay on the ground with a blanket over his shoulders, the butler kneeling across him.
‘He is in need of a doctor, my lord.’ The servant looked worried. His sister simply tipped her head back and wailed, a loud and awful noise that filled all the space around her.
‘Stop it.’ Daniel gave her no quarter and surprise made her cease. Already he was lifting the boy in his arms and bringing him inside, shouting orders for one of his staff to ride to find the doctor and to another to make ready a bed. Blood dripped across his dress jacket and soaked the bright white fabric of his shirt.
Once the boy was lying on a sofa, Daniel took a blanket from the chair and ripped it into long bandages, fastening them tightly above the injury. The rate of bleeding slowed as he ordered his butler to exert pressure on the offending thigh.
Mrs Orchard had brought through hot water and towels and another pile of quilts, one of which she proceeded to wrap Daniel’s crying sister in. Gwendolyn’s continued sobbing was obviously getting on everyone’s nerves, so Amethyst led the girl to a chair and sat her down.
‘When did you last see your sister?’
She could tell Daniel was listening though his attention was still on the injured boy.
‘An...hour back. But there...were people there and they were drunk and I could not find her. Andrew was in a fight. The man hit him with a metal pole, I think, and there was so much blood. I knew Montcliffe was close so I helped him into the carriage and brought him here.’
She had begun to shake quite badly, the shock of it all settling in.
‘You did well and he already looks better.’
The paleness of Andrew’s face was alarming, but he had begun to shiver less violently and accept small sips of sweet hot tea. Daniel moved away.
‘Keep them both warm, Mrs Orchard, and give them each some brandy. I am going to find Caroline.’
Amethyst stood. ‘I would like to come, too. I am a good rider and you might need a woman to help with your sister.’
Uncertainty flickered across his face, but the situation was too dire to lose any more time in trying to persuade her to stay back.
‘Very well. Meet me in the stables in ten minutes. I won’t wait longer.’
* * *
They rode through the growing dusk at speed, the sound of his horse’s hooves matching the beat of hers. He was astonished at her prowess.
If his sister was hurt in any way... He shook away the thought and drew in his reins, waiting as Amethyst Cameron came in beside him. Nay, Amethyst Montcliffe now.
‘That is the roof of the inn there.’ He tipped his head to listen, music coming from the same direction.
‘It’s a good sign, I think. If they were hurting your sister, they wouldn’t sing.’
He almost smiled, but didn’t. Rape followed few rules. My God, he had seen that time and time again in Spain when the whole campaign had fallen to pieces, and the baser nature of men had come to the fore.
‘Stay here and mind the horses. If anyone comes, scream as loud as you can and I will hear you.’
‘No.’ A knife was in her hand, wicked, sharp and ready. ‘I can help you.’
‘You know how to use it?’
‘With proficiency.’
The look in her eyes didn’t brook argument. Taking the reins of both horses, he fastened them to a branch. ‘Stay behind me, then, and if I say run, you run. Understand?’
Gesturing her assent, she stepped back, the darkness of the riding clothes she had changed into blending with the shadow and reminding him of some of the women in Spain who had marched to the call of the drum and followed their men into battle. Brave and surprising. He liked having her there, a point of reference in the darkness and another pair of watchful eyes.
If anyone had hurt his sister, he would deal with them without a backward glance, he swore that he would. The anger in him shivered over disbelief.
The singing men were outside, gathered around a table and drinking. One was old enough to be his grandfather and the other two looked to be so drunk they would be no threat to anyone save themselves. Motioning to Amethyst, he skirted around a line of trees which brought them up to the front door of the inn. A few patrons were drinking at the bar, but there was no sign of any problem. When a faint noise from above caught his attention, he surged up the stairs and into a room at one end of the passageway.
Caroline was in a corner, crouched down with a broken bottle held out in front of her and her dress ripped down one arm. Three young men were trying to coax her out, their method of doing so bringing a shout from Daniel’s throat and filling the room with fury.
A poker sat in one of their hands, the ashes from a fire scattered about their feet. When he looked at his sister again he saw the angry mark of a burn on the bare skin of her upper arm.
The perfect certainty he had always felt in battle suddenly claimed him and he moved forward.
* * *
Daniel exploded into action without warning. In less than a minute three men lay at his feet, with barely a noise, hardly a movement. Amethyst had never seen someone fight like that before, the grace of his fury unwinding into a lethal force, the strength of his fists and body simply obliterating any resistance.
Tenderness took over as he brought his sister into his arms, checking her for other injuries and holding her as she shook violently without making a sound.
‘You are safe, Caroline. We are here to take you home. Did they hurt you elsewhere?’
‘No. They asked me to have a drink with them. I know I should not have said yes, but I couldn’t find Gwen or Andrew and so I agreed. They brought me upstairs and I knew then...’ She couldn’t go on and her brother bent to lift her into his arms.
‘Tell me if anyone so much as looks at us, Amethyst.’ He made no effort to keep his voice down as he retraced his steps.
Finally they walked out through the front door and into the evening, the soldier in her husband so very clearly seen. No one spoke. No one touched them. No one moved in the stillness of the oncoming night, save them.
Then the horses were before them, whickering at their presence. Amethyst held her knife ready until they were mounte
d. Daniel threw his cloak around his sister and wrapped her in tight.
‘Get on your horse, Amethyst.’
She did it in one quick movement and he tipped his head, gesturing a direction as he spoke.
‘They won’t follow.’ The strength in the Earl’s voice was comforting. His hair in the oncoming darkness had fallen loose and lay across his shoulders and he had collected a bruise on his cheek from one flying fist. He had never looked more beautiful to her or more distant.
* * *
Much later Daniel called her to his library. Each of the injured young people had been seen to by the doctor and sent to bed and all were expected to have made a good recovery by the morning. Her father had long since retired, but Amethyst had stayed in the downstairs salon reading just to make sure that there was no more trouble.
The Earl was standing at the window as she walked in. He had changed his clothes and now wore a shirt and a loose cravat. His jacket was draped across a chair nearby and he held a drink in his hand.
‘Can I offer you something?’
Amethyst shook her head.
‘Will you sit for a moment?’
He motioned to two chairs positioned before the fireplace. The grate held the warmth of low embers.
‘Caroline was lucky. The doctor said the burn on her arm was superficial and he has dressed and wrapped it. Her fearfulness may take a little longer to recover from, of course, and I doubt she will be venturing anywhere on her own in the foreseeable future. But there is nothing...that she can’t recover from.’
‘What about Andrew Howard? How is he faring?’
‘A little worse. He has a substantial wound on his leg and a large bruise on the back of his head. I have sent word to Lucien who will come to look him over, no doubt.’
‘And your mother?’
‘Has been informed of the happenings. Unfortunately, I suppose she will also descend upon us.’ Drawing a hand through his hair, he continued speaking after a few seconds of silence. ‘She is a woman whom life has disappointed and as such goes to great pains to make sure others feel the same way.’
‘So she won’t like me?’
‘Probably not.’ He didn’t mince the words and for that she was grateful. ‘But she does not like me much, either, so we should be about even.’
Shocked, Amethyst looked straight at him. ‘But you are her son.’
‘She hated my father with a vengeance and I suppose I remind her of him.’
‘And Nigel didn’t.’
‘He was more persuadable and usually did exactly as she wanted. I was less biddable, but families are complicated things and I have long since ceased trying to understand mine.’
Amethyst waited as he took a drink. The bruise on his cheek had swollen and was threatening to close up his right eye.
‘Where did you learn to wield a knife?’
Shocked by his directness, she was mute.
‘Every other woman of my acquaintance would not know how a blade fits within their fist. But you do. Why?’
She wanted to tell him, she did. She wanted to spit out all the horror of her first marriage in one unbroken line of thought, but this was neither the time nor the place. Not yet. She needed to get to know him better first.
‘The docks are dangerous and I was often there at night.’
She didn’t know if he believed her or not as he leant forward.
‘You surprised me, Amethyst, and that is something not many people have managed to do before. Do you carry your blade now?’
‘Yes.’
‘Could I see it?’
With only a little hesitation she brought the leather sheath from a deep pocket and laid it on the table between them. To keep a knife on her person in the safety of his home must alert him to some of the things she would rather keep hidden. She also knew that she no longer wished to lie to him.
Picking up the scabbard, he extracted the knife, the multiple grooves on the handle which allowed a better grip taking his attention.
‘A double-edged stiletto blade and well balanced, too. Does your father know you carry it?’
She shook her head. ‘It would only worry him.’
At that he laughed. ‘I am your husband and it worries me. But for now we will leave it at that. I have a request that you might be able to help me with over the next few days. Both of my sisters are...in need of some backbone, for they whine too much and they think too little. Their journey up to Montcliffe today surprised me, however, and made me think there still is a chance to rescue them from my mother’s influence, if you like. The thing is, Amethyst, I want them to be more like you.’
‘Like me?’
‘Stronger. More certain. They have taken on my mother’s propensity to complain about nothing and it is wearisome and unattractive. Perhaps with a little coaching and some hours spent in your company they might see the value in pursuing a different path, a braver direction.’
‘Should I take this as a compliment, my lord?’ Amazement gave Amethyst’s words a quiet lilt. ‘Most gentlemen of the ton want docile wives who think only of the things your sisters are probably fond of.’
‘Which is why most marriages in high society are shams.’
Despite everything she laughed. My God, she could never have had this conversation with Gerald, not in a million years.
‘And what exactly is our marriage then, my lord, if not a sham?’
The gleam in his pale eyes strengthened. ‘You tell me, Lady Montcliffe.’ Finishing the last of his drink, he placed it on the table before standing and drawing her up to him, only the smallest of spaces left between them. ‘I would also like to thank you for your help today.’
‘Thank me?’ Every part of her body was squeezed into a breathless waiting.
‘It is our wedding night, after all, and even a marriage of convenience should mark the occasion in some way.’
His fingers stroked the sensitive skin on the back of her neck as he looked at her, the gold threads in his eyes easy to see at such a close distance. ‘There are secrets on your face that you might one day tell me and I have my own as well. But right now, here, in this room, there is only the vestige of a difficult evening behind us and the hope of a better day before us. Perhaps we could find it in us to celebrate at least that?’
‘How?’ She was wary.
‘Like this.’
His lips came down across her own with care. He did not force or cajole, he merely waited to see what it was she would do.
A choice, melded with words of thanks and gratitude, a dark night outside and a warmth within. If he had demanded more she might have left, but he did not. The touch of his tongue against her mouth, only asking, and his hand resting lightly against the small of her back.
She did not know what happened between them when they touched, but the same feelings as before rose within her, a longing, an affinity, the woman in her whom Gerald had never discovered pressing forward into the hard edge of his passion, two people melded together in a raw and utter need.
How long had she waited for just this thrall, no rational thought or logic. Her hands went on their own accord to rest on the muscles of his shoulders. Hers. To hold and have. For ever.
But he could not love her back.
The pain of loss rose unexpectedly, spilling into her like ruined wine and making her draw away. She saw need flint in his eyes before distance covered it, the lover swallowed by the soldier as he let her go.
One foot, then two, and although the silence between them screamed with questions she was not brave enough to answer. Yet.
* * *
She looked broken and small. He had noticed this thinness from time to time, but tonight it worried him more, her eyes huge in her face, the shadows beneath them dark.
There was something s
he was not telling him, the shape of it lingering in fear, her breath forcing panic down to a place where she could manage it. If anyone could understand such things, it was him. He tried to set her at ease.
‘I like kissing you.’
Her blush was expected, but her tears were not. He had never seen a woman cry on a compliment before. She wiped them away with the back of her sleeve, hurriedly, as if she had no time for such emotion.
‘My father has had the first of the money transferred into your account, Lord Wylde. It should go some way in helping with...’ She stopped and breathed out hard, as if she had said too much and did not wish for what would come next.
‘With the agreements. Just that?’
She nodded and he felt something shift inside him. Amethyst had been hurt and badly. By Whitely in all likelihood, the husband she had been married to for sixteen months. If she couldn’t talk about it, he would ask Robert Cameron privately about the man tomorrow.
A log dropped in the fire and a shower of sparks lit the grate. Home and hearth.
‘I want you to know that I would not have married you just for the money.’ He dredged up the rest. ‘I married you because I liked you.’
This time her smile was real, no pretence in it or anger.
‘And perhaps I like you back, Lord Montcliffe.’
‘A good start then?’
She nodded and in her eyes was the swell of decision. ‘Gerald Whitely was not the man I thought him to be and my mistakes have made me wary.’
He could see what this admission had cost her by the quickened blood pulsing at her throat.
‘He came to us as a clerk who was recommended by a friend of my father’s. Papa liked him at first, but then he tried to dissuade me from taking the relationship further. I wanted love in a marriage and permanence.’
‘But you did not get it?’
‘No.’ The violent loss in her eyes darkened them, so that they were almost black in the shadows of the room. There could be no mistaking the hatred lurking at the edges, either.
What the hell had Whitely done to her?
‘At La Corunna I realised fate could be cheated because I should have died there with a bullet through my thigh and the blood running out of me in a stream, but I didn’t. Ever since I have been of the opinion that we each have the choice to worry about what has come before or to forget it.’
