by Darcy Burke
Papa frowned. “But that’s where Merlin is likely buried. Gareth wouldn’t be there too, would he?”
“That’s what Gideon believes.” Daphne worked to sound as firm and convincing as possible. “I wish I could tell you why, but he didn’t always share everything with me.” Gideon was right about her—she was perhaps a little too accomplished at fabricating lies. Perhaps she’d learned the skill from her father without even realizing it. She suddenly felt very ill.
“That is quite a distance,” Papa said stroking his chin. “Is he going alone?”
“He thought we were going together.”
“We shall rouse my men to go in pursuit. Would you like to accompany them?”
Them… Didn’t he plan to go? “I think I’d prefer to return to Keynsham.”
Papa patted her shoulder. “My poor girl. You must feel terribly betrayed.”
That much was true. But the pain she felt came from her father. Mostly. She wished Gideon hadn’t kept things from her, though she supposed she understood why he had. She was the daughter of his enemy. Why would he expose himself to her? He’d started to, but she knew he’d resisted that too.
“I’m also exhausted,” she said, which was also true. “I just want to go home. To Hawthorn Cottage.”
“Very well. I’ll summon Argus to accompany you.”
Hell, she didn’t want Argus to accompany her, because she wasn’t going to Keynsham! “That isn’t necessary, Papa. Take him with you to Bardsey.” Yes, take everyone.
“I’m not going.” Of course he wasn’t. He rarely left Ashridge Court.
“Why not? This is so important to you. You could obtain all Thirteen Treasures at once.” She really needed him to go. “Would you pass up the chance to see Gareth’s tomb?”
“That is rather tempting, but Bardsey is awfully far. And what if Gideon lied to you and has gone somewhere else? No, I’ll stay here as I usually do. My men are quite capable, and Davis will lead them well.”
Davis was a Welsh gentleman who’d tried to court Daphne a few years ago. He was attractive and charming, but there’d been something unsavory about him, and Daphne had discouraged his attention. When he’d persisted, her father had informed him that she would marry a descendant. That had put an end to his advances. Still, Daphne had never cared for him, and he was among her father’s most trusted men.
Daphne tried once more to persuade her father to go. “I hope you don’t regret not going.”
“I hope you don’t,” he countered. “Now we must rouse these guards, if we can. I went for a late-night stroll and found several of them sleeping. When I was unable to wake them, I knew something was amiss. Have you any idea what Gideon did to them?”
“I don’t,” she lied once more.
His gaze lingered on her, and he sighed. “Pity. Well, we’ll get them up and send them on their way at first light.”
“I’ll help you, Papa,” she said, feeling as though she must. She didn’t think he was suspicious of her, but wanted to be overly careful. “Then I shall go. I hope you understand my need for solitude.”
“Of course, dear.”
It took several hours and copious amounts of cold water to wake all the men. As they prepared for their journey to Bardsey, Daphne readied herself to leave. So far, she hadn’t devised a strategy to get rid of Argus so that she could go where she really planned: Weston.
The men departed as the first hint of day began to lighten the sky. Daphne and Argus set out on horseback as dawn broke, heading north to Keynsham. When they were on the other side of Glastonbury, Daphne slowed her horse from a trot and walked to the side of the road.
Argus joined her. “Is something amiss, my lady?”
Hearing him call her my lady was a bit jarring. She’d tried to think of a reason to part ways with him, but she was apparently out of convenient lies. Or perhaps she was weary of telling them once she’d realized how like her father she was. Instead, she was going to tell Argus the truth. He’d been with her for nearly two years, and she hoped she’d garnered at least a modicum of loyalty. And also hoped she hadn’t ruined that when she’d left Ashridge Court without him to pursue Gideon the first time.
“Argus, I’m not going to Hawthorn Cottage.”
His brows rose beneath the brim of his hat. “Where are you going?”
“I’d rather not say.”
“I’ll accompany you wherever you’d like.”
He would? Was it really that easy? She’d expected him to insist she go to Keynsham—or return to Ashridge Court. “That’s very kind of you, but I don’t need a companion.”
He frowned. “I’m afraid I can’t let you go alone. You left without me recently, and aside from your father’s anger that I allowed you to leave—”
“You didn’t,” she rushed to say. “I left without telling you.”
“Your father didn’t see it that way. In any case, you shouldn’t be traveling alone.”
He sounded like Gideon, and, like Gideon, she suspected he wasn’t going to let her brush his concern aside. What would happen if he came with her? They’d arrive in Weston later today, and then she’d be with Gideon—if he’d have her.
She fixed Argus with a steely stare. “Can I trust you?”
“I’ve always tried to be dependable and trustworthy. I put your safety above my own.”
“Will you also put my husband’s safety above your own?”
He blinked at her. “Where are you going?”
“Please answer the question, Argus.”
He nodded. “If you ask me to, yes.”
“I am asking you to.” She paused and waited for him to nod again. “Thank you. We’re riding to Weston—we must turn west at the road ahead. And we must ride quickly.”
If Gideon had followed their plan, he would have rested at Meare, which was just west of Glastonbury, until morning. Then he would have set out for Weston, which was just twenty miles away, where they would await Penn and arrange for passage to Flat Holm as soon as possible.
However, she worried that Gideon would try to go alone after what had happened at Ashridge Court. He’d be anxious to return the treasures to Gareth.
“We’ll move as quickly as possible,” Argus vowed.
They set off once again, and Daphne’s anxiety shifted from how she would evade Argus to how she would convince Gideon that she hadn’t betrayed him.
Chapter 18
Gideon paid for two nights at the Drunken Mermaid, a smaller inn away from the busy center of Weston. The captain who would take him to Flat Holm the day after tomorrow had recommended it.
The day after bloody tomorrow.
Climbing the stairs to his room on the first floor, Gideon cursed the weather for what had to be the dozenth time. The captain had said the winds were too high to get to Flat Holm today and would likely be tomorrow too. Gideon had considered finding a small boat that he could row himself, but the passage was difficult for smaller vessels, and it was much more likely for him to become stranded, as had happened to others in recent years.
This way, you can wait for Penn, he reminded himself.
While that was true, it also gave Foliot a chance to catch up with him and ruin the entire plan. That was the primary reason he’d chosen the Drunken Mermaid—it was small, in a somewhat questionable area, and the innkeeper had been amenable to bribery. He would keep Gideon’s presence as secret as possible.
Hopefully, Foliot wouldn’t find him, and hopefully, he wouldn’t be able to find a boat that would take him to Flat Holm. It had taken Gideon several hours to locate a willing captain, and he prayed Foliot would be unsuccessful.
Would Daphne come with him?
Pain tore through Gideon. He’d tried so hard to keep her from his mind, but it was a nearly impossible task. The vision of her standing beside her father telling him what Gideon intended to do pierced him like the sharpest blade.
He’d thought to be doing this with her. She’d said they were in it together. Now it felt hollo
w. He was still committed to returning the treasures, but the joy of doing so was greatly diminished.
In fact, joy seemed all but unattainable. He looked forward to the bottle of brandy the innkeeper had promised to bring up shortly.
He unlocked and opened the door to his room and exhaled. It was small but well-appointed with a large four-poster bed, a good-sized fireplace that would easily heat the room, a tall dresser, and a table with a pair of chairs.
Gideon deposited his saddlebag on the end of the bed and went to the wide single window. He pushed aside the blue linen curtains to look out at the harbor and beyond. The Bristol Channel was dark and choppy today, and rain had begun to fall. He couldn’t see Flat Holm but knew it was out there. No, he was out there. Gareth.
Turning, Gideon went to unpack his bag, which held the heart and the cloak, which he left in the bag, along with a few extra items of clothing he’d packed separately at Brue Cottage. As he stored his clothing in the dresser, more images of Daphne rose in his mind: her glorious body, her tantalizing smile, her mouth exploring him with sweet abandon. That seemed so long ago instead of just yesterday morning.
Next, he worked to start a fire, which he’d told the innkeeper he would do, and soon had a warm blaze. The room had been a bit cool, but Gideon had barely noticed, numb as he was.
A rap on the door drew his attention. Now he could spend the rest of the day and night as sotted as the namesake of the inn.
He opened the door, and the innkeeper handed him a bottle and a glass. “Here’s your brandy. Some chit came looking for you. I sent her on her way.”
It had to have been Daphne. His pulse quickened. “Was she alone?”
“No, she had a man with her—seemed like a servant. He stood a bit behind her and didn’t interfere.”
It didn’t sound like Foliot, but Gideon had to be sure. “What did he look like?”
“Tall fellow, wide as a doorframe across the shoulders.” The innkeeper shook his head. “I wouldn’t want to tangle with him.”
Definitely not Foliot. “Thank you.” Gideon took the brandy and the glass, and the innkeeper closed the door and left.
Setting the bottle and glass on the table, Gideon moved to the window to see if she might still be on the street below. His gaze moved up and down the lane. There—she was on a horse and the large man the innkeeper had described rode another beside her. The rain had increased, and Gideon could see they were drenched.
Despite her betrayal, his heart ached. He wanted to bring her inside to dry and warm her. To hold her close and never let her go.
They walked their horses to the side of the lane, before another inn. The groom dismounted, then helped her. Gideon told himself to turn away, to stop the torture of wanting what he couldn’t have.
He started to pivot, but froze when he saw a movement. A man grabbed her groom, and a second went for Daphne. Gideon didn’t hesitate before tearing from the room and bounding down the stairs. He was out in the rain-soaked street in a trice, racing toward her.
She shrieked as the miscreant held her fast. Her groom was engaged in fisticuffs with the other one. Gideon grabbed the man holding Daphne and tossed him aside. The man sprawled into the street.
Daphne blinked at Gideon. “Where did you—”
Gideon didn’t hear the rest of her question because the man he’d thrown gripped Gideon’s leg and tried to pull him down. Gideon kicked at him and then reached down to pick him up by his dirty cravat.
Growling, Gideon hit the man and sent him sprawling once more. Then he pulled Dyrnwyn, which was still strapped to his waist, from its scabbard. The sword flamed pale blue, and Daphne’s assailant raised his hands in front of his face.
“Don’t hurt me!” he cried.
“Go!” Gideon threatened, moving toward him with the sword. The man scrambled to his feet and slipped as he tried to run away. Gideon turned to the other man, but he and Daphne’s groom had stopped fighting and were staring at the sword.
Gideon took a menacing step toward the other criminal. “You’d better run.”
The man did exactly that, taking off down the street after his companion.
Daphne moved closer to him. “Gideon, people are staring.”
There weren’t many about, but they were, in fact, staring. Gideon quickly sheathed the sword, then he took Daphne by the arm and guided her back toward the Drunken Mermaid. Her groom followed.
Once they were inside, he let her go. Then he pierced the groom with a nasty stare. “You’re supposed to protect her.”
“I was,” he said defensively. “I nearly had the other man subdued. They only wanted coin.”
Gideon turned to Daphne. “Why didn’t you just give it to them?”
“Because I need it,” she said, wiping her hand over her face and grimacing at the contact of her wet glove.
Gideon went to the window at the front of the common room and looked outside. “Where’s your father?”
“At Ashridge Court.”
Of course the coward had stayed home. He always did. Gideon snorted as he turned around to face her. “He surely sent more than him.” Gideon gestured toward her groom.
“This is Argus, my personal manservant. Argus, this is my husband, Lord Stratton.” She conducted the introduction as if they hadn’t parted under the most terrible of circumstances. And as if their marriage was perfectly ordinary. “My father sent far more than Argus. To Bardsey Island.”
To…where? Gideon blinked at her. “Why?”
She stood there sopping wet, water dripping from her hat onto the floor. “Because that’s where I told him you went.” She paused before adding, “He sent Argus to accompany me to Keynsham.”
Gideon stared at her as his brain tried to comprehend what she was saying. “You are not in Keynsham.”
“No, I’m not.” Her gaze held his, and in that moment, he knew everything he needed to: she hadn’t chosen her father. She’d chosen him.
He stepped forward and swept her sodden hat from her head, knocking it to the floor. Then he cupped her face. “I love you.”
Her lips curved up. “I love you too.”
Gideon kissed her, uncaring that Argus was standing right behind her. Hell, the entire town of Weston could be lined up to watch and he wouldn’t give a fig. She was here with him, and that was all that mattered.
Except, perhaps, for her shivering.
“Come upstairs. You need to get warm.”
“Yes, please.” She glanced back toward her manservant. “What about Argus?”
Though Gideon was thrilled to see her, he wasn’t sure he could trust the man. He slid a look toward Argus and whispered, “Does he work for you or your father?”
“My father, but he is loyal to me. I didn’t tell him we weren’t going to Keynsham until we’d left Glastonbury. He wasn’t able to tell anyone.”
“And he won’t send word?”
“I can hear you,” Argus said. His voice was deep and raspy. “No, I won’t send word. While it’s true I work for Foliot, I’ve looked after Lady Stratton long enough that her safety is of paramount importance to me.” He took a step toward Gideon. “Can I trust her with you? Foliot has described you to me as a thief and a killer.”
Daphne stepped between them, her frame still quivering with cold. “I trust Gideon with my life, so you can do the same.” She turned to Gideon. “Can we go upstairs now?”
Gideon put his arm around her, heedless of her wet clothing. “Yes. Argus, the innkeeper is about. See if he has a room for you and have Daphne’s bag sent up.”
“I don’t have a bag,” she said, wincing. “I was supposed to be riding home.”
“We’d best get to drying your clothes, then.” Gideon inclined his head toward Argus and picked up Daphne’s hat from the floor. Then he guided her up the stairs. “Left at the landing. We’re at the end of the hall.”
Small puddles formed where she walked. As soon as she stepped into the chamber, Gideon closed the door and strode to set her
hat on the hearth. She joined him there, holding her hands out as she tried to remove her gloves.
Gideon took over, stripping the garments from her fingers and dropping them next to her hat. Then he untied her cravat and tossed it atop the other items. She tried to unbutton her coat, but he pushed her hands away and completed the task for her.
After the coat, he unlaced her skirt and let it fall to the floor. Her shirt came next, then he knelt to remove her boots. Those he carefully set before the fire, thinking they would take quite some time to dry out. It was perhaps a good thing they couldn’t go anywhere tomorrow.
He stood and helped her remove her petticoat and corset. She stood before him in a dry chemise, but she was still shivering with cold. “Let me get the coverlet from the bed.”
“Can you remove my stockings?” she asked between chattering teeth. “They’re very wet.”
“Of course.” He’d forgot the bloody things. Grabbing a chair from the table, he dragged it in front of the fire. He knelt before her once more and realized his coat was rather damp from his time outside. Unbuttoning it, he shrugged it from his shoulders and set it on the floor. He also removed Dyrnwyn from his waist and propped it in the corner.
Returning his attention to Daphne, he pushed up her chemise. His breath tangled in his lungs. He’d undressed her so quickly and with a keen attention to making her warmer, that he hadn’t fallen prey to the allure of her body.
Until now.
Pushing up the chemise, he bared her knees and settled the linen atop her thighs. He loosened the garters and slipped each one, along with the stocking, from her legs. Now he was trembling, but not from cold. There were so many things he wanted to do to her. To show her.
He stood and hurried to the bed, dragging the coverlet from it and bringing it to wrap around her in the chair. She sat forward and stood so that she could arrange the fabric about her body. Then she collapsed once more, and Gideon set to laying her clothing out so that it would dry. He draped her skirt over the back of the other chair and positioned it near the fire.