A tiny sigh escaped her. Did she feel the same sense of marvel that he did in this moment? “Then don’t think on it. Look toward the future instead. I have a feeling fate isn’t quite done with you yet.”
Now more than ever, he wanted this life to be his permanently, but the whys and wherefores of it required careful thought and planning.
Never had he looked forward to a Christmas day more.
Chapter Sixteen
Christmas Eve afternoon
Sarah was both flooded with excitement for the following day and verging on overwhelmed at the number of tasks still outstanding before she could rest and enjoy the fruits of her labors.
She flitted between the common room and the kitchen, mentally ticking off completed items from the list in her mind. So focused was she that Cecil and Simon had taken to scattering from her path as she made her relentless circuits.
“Cecil, remember to dispatch the biggest chicken and clean it for me,” she said as she tidied pillows on the sofa and plumped them for what felt like the hundredth time that afternoon.
“I haven’t forgotten,” he responded without glancing up from his book. “It’s but three o’clock. Plenty of time to do the deed.” Then he looked at her, a forefinger holding his place between the pages. “It’s not as if we’re having the Regent over to Christmas dinner, Sarah. Please, do not worry yourself. You’ve done a splendid job thus far.”
“Thank you.” She blew out a breath that ruffled an escaped lock of hair swooping over her forehead. A smile curved her lips. Really, he’d been a godsend, and she feared what she felt for him bordered on something much stronger than desire or even affection. “That may be true, but the day is important to me just the same.” Because you are here.
And she hadn’t known she needed him in all the ways that mattered.
“I understand.” His grin loosed butterfly wings through her insides. “What can I do to help?”
“Keep Simon occupied? I need to run into the village, and no you two cannot come,” she added when both Cecil and her son looked at her with expectant expressions.
The boots she’d had commissioned for Cecil were done and wrapped in brown paper awaiting her to pick them up. Plus, she wanted to purchase a few little things for the morrow, and the quick walk would allow her to clear her mind, or at least make sense of the confusing thoughts swirling around her brain.
“I’m certain Simon and I can find something to do. Mayhap we’ll go chop down the tree and bring it inside.” At her wide-eyed gaze, he tacked on, “After I dispatch the chicken, of course.”
Sarah nodded. “Very well. And don’t forget, I’d like to attend midnight services in the village tonight, so manage to find decent clothes for you and the boy.”
He gave her a mock salute. “I’ll endeavor to rig us both out in a way that’ll make you proud.” Again, he sent her a wicked little grin that had tremors bolting down her spine.
“You’ve never yet disappointed me,” she whispered from a suddenly tight throat.
His eyes darkened. “The sentiment is mine as well.”
If she didn’t melt into a puddle of goo sometime before tomorrow, it would be a small miracle. She turned her attention to the hearth where her son was playing with his tin soldiers. “Simon, I need you to tidy your room and pick up your toys down here.”
“I know, Mama. You’ve told me three times,” he said with a shake of his curls.
“And that’s three times you’ve not done it. Why must you vex your poor mother?”
“Probably because it’s so easy,” the boy shot off, and when she whipped her head around with an admonishment on her lips, he hastily added, “That wasn’t well done of me.”
“No, it certainly wasn’t.” When Cecil made a poor attempt at covering his guffaws, Sarah sighed again. She wiped her hands on her apron and then whisked the garment off her person. “I’ll just grab my cloak and go straightaway.” Then she flew down the hall, tossing the apron into the stillroom as she went, her mind a blur.
Cecil caught up with her, tugged her into the rarely used empty room reserved for an in-house maid. “Are you certain you don’t wish for company or protection while you go into the village?”
She almost crumbled beneath the concern deep in the depths of his eyes. “I shall be fine. I promise. Honest, I’ll go directly there, pick up my parcels and return with haste.” When he backed her into a corner—literally—she laid a palm against the hard wall of his chest. “It’s rather nice knowing someone cares, though.”
“Never doubt that.” He slipped his arms about her waist and gently pulled her close. “Do you wish to carry one of my pistols?”
“No. I hate the things.” A shiver ran down her spine. “Nothing untoward will occur.”
“At least until nightfall.”
“Owen hasn’t come ‘round since that last time.” Her mind went to the two instances the intruder had been in her garden, and as she stared up into Cecil’s face, her heartbeat accelerated. “Not even he would dare molest me in a village full of witnesses.”
“It’s the travel time between this cottage and the village that worries me. Men like him don’t think clearly, which makes them dangerous. I’m coming with you.”
“No.” Her denial was harsher than she’d wanted. “I don’t wish to spoil the surprise I’m planning for you.”
“Against my better judgment, I’ll agree.” He cupped her cheek. “Please say you’ll remain diligent.”
She trembled from his touch. “I promise. Only calamity of the highest order will prevent me from returning to this cottage.” And you. Please tell me you want me beyond the physical.
“Ah, Sarah, so brave and so independent.” Then he bent his head and touched his lips to hers in a sweet kiss that caressed her soul with its innocence and promise. As he pulled away, he sighed. “I’ll keep watch for you at the lane gate.”
“Thank you.” She patted his shoulder and then slipped past him. “I’ll be as quick as I can.” If she lingered any longer, she’d never want to leave, for it had been all too easy letting herself fall for him.
Two hours later saw Sarah on her way back from the village, her arms full of packages and her head stuffed with anticipation at seeing the look on Cecil’s face or the joy that would dance in Simon’s eyes. A light snow was falling and added magic to her walk, but as the shadows of twilight deepened, she quickened her steps.
The winding road that would eventually connect to her lane lay like a snow-covered snake, but the rising half-moon peeked from its cloud cover every now and again, which made the silvery light glitter on the snow like a million diamonds.
Eventually, she passed the spot in the meadow where she, Cecil, and Simon had played in the snow and made angels. A smile tugged at her lips. It was a miracle they’d become a family in eleven short days. The major’s arrival had turned her life upside down and had changed it for the better. Never had she seen Simon so happy. Her heart squeezed. Perhaps she should tell Cecil tonight how she felt once the boy went to bed.
It was well past time. He could do what he wished with the knowledge, but at least she’d have the luxury of saying it to a man she loved.
And this time, perhaps she’d have the life she’d always wanted, for no longer was he a man on the march, but a man of... hearth and home. The knowledge staggered her, and she hugged her packages to her chest. He had changed, and so had she.
It was as if fate had indeed sent her down a new path.
“Imagine the luck. Here you are, all by yourself, without the major by your side to protect you.” That hated voice rang in her ear and she whirled around to encounter Owen, stark in unrelieved black as if he were a shadow of the night, with the nose of a pistol pointed at her. “Saves me the trouble of waylaying you in the garden.”
Fear twisted down her spine in icy spirals. Perhaps if she ignored him, he would give up and go away. Sarah presented him with her back. “You and I have no business together, neither do we have anything to di
scuss. Leave me in peace.”
“Like you did for me all those years ago?” The sneer he wore was evident in his sarcastic tone. “You could have given me peace, but instead, you made it known I was a traitor, had me tossed in Newgate like a common criminal.”
She snorted as an imp of rebellion appeared in her mind. “You’re right. I should have made certain the Home Office thought of you as an uncommon criminal. Perhaps they would have seen you hung with alacrity instead of delaying. I’m honestly surprised they didn’t shoot you within the week for what you did.”
“Thank goodness for addlepated nonsense that leads to delays in the system.”
Sarah kept walking. “I have no reason to tarry here with you. Good night, Mr. Bradley.” She couldn’t imagine where the sudden burst of bravado had come from, but if it allowed her to move closer to the lane where Cecil would be watching, all the better.
“I don’t think so.” He wrapped a hand around her upper arm and yanked her about to face him with such force the packages tumbled from her hold. “You will pay for what you did to me.”
“Had you apprehended?” She tried to wrench her arm from his grip, but his strength was bold enough to keep her captive. “Obviously, Newgate failed since you escaped.”
“That is only part of it, Mrs. Presley.” He brought his pistol around and pressed the nose directly into her forehead. The cold bite of the metal on her skin chilled her blood. “Once a man is branded a traitor, there are consequences. Their family is shunned. Mine was run out of London, my holdings taken by the Crown, my children stripped of their futures.”
Though it was a horrible tale, he had to know his actions brought such trauma. “I confess I hadn’t given any thought to the repercussions.” She tried to ignore the pistol, but it proved impossible. “Where have you been during all these years?” It boggled her mind to know he’d been on the loose.
“Relocating my family, finding work wherever I could just to put food on the damned table. You took my dignity from me, and eventually I had to leave them if they were to have a chance at any sort of good life.”
“Perhaps you should have thought about that before you decided to betray your country.”
Shut up, Sarah, lest he kill you right here and now.
His eyes flashed in the gathering dark of the night. “You didn’t have to give me up.”
“I did what I thought was right, what my husband had asked me to do.” Her pulse hammered in her ears; her lungs hurt from taking tiny, shallow breaths.
“Bah.” Owen spat upon the ground. He lowered the pistol, shoving it into the waist of his trousers, and she relaxed, but only slightly. “Alexander and his damned black and white lines. The man had a knack for seeing only good or evil. He said the paltry pay we received in the military was enough, but I had bills, debts that were nearly called in, notes people high in the peerage held.” He shrugged. “France paid more.”
“You’re pathetic.”
“Perhaps, but I sent my family to America, gave them a chance to start a new life far away from the taint of what you made me into.”
“Not I. You.” Again, she tried to tear her arm from his hold, but he tightened his vice-like grip so much that his fingers dug into her flesh through her clothing.
“That depends on your perspective, doesn’t it? No matter. You’ll be dead soon, and I won’t mourn your loss.” He swiftly delivered a punch to the small of her back that had her crumpling to her knees as pain exploded up her spine. “I should have taken the damned shot the other night, but I wanted you to suffer, thinking about what you did to me, to my life.”
She shook her head and tried to struggle into a standing position, but he clamped a hand to her shoulder and kept her kneeling. The snow wetted her skirts and left her knees freezing, and her teeth chattered together from more than just the cold. “To be honest, I hadn’t thought about you until you came into my garden.”
“Bitch.”
Sarah wasn’t prepared for his slap. Her head snapped back, and her cheek stung from the blow. She whimpered but refused to shed a tear in his presence. “How did you find me?”
“I’ll admit, I stuck around London for a long while, thinking you had nowhere else to go except your uncle’s house, but I was wrong.”
“Seems you always were.”
He slapped her again, this time on the opposite cheek. A tear leaked from her eye. “Then, I decided to play a smarter game. I wasn’t a spy for nothing, Mrs. Presley.” He yanked a length of rope from a pocket in his greatcoat. “I merely found out where the Crown sends Alexander’s pension checks.”
After everything she’d done to safeguard her location, such a small detail had given her up. “Why now?”
“Why not?”
She pulled from his grip, but he used the rope like a whip. It caught her across the shoulders, and her cloak didn’t prevent its sting. Another tear escaped. “Why are you doing this? You could have gone to America with your family.”
“Revenge is a powerful motivator, and I want you to remember that your actions have consequences... even you marrying Alexander.”
“You’ve still not moved beyond that?” She shook her head. “I preferred him to you. For good reason.” Once more she struggled, but his next words drained the mettle from her.
“If you continue to fight me, I’ll leave you bleeding and injured right here and then seek out your boy and the Major, put a ball through their heads, simply because I can. You’ll be left here knowing they died because of what you did to me.”
“No!” A cry escaped her throat when he wrenched first one of her hands behind her back and then the other. “For the love of God, do not touch them.”
“Never did I think you’d fall for another damned solider, Sarah. You could have attracted a better protector than that.” He coiled rope around her wrists and tied off the ends with enough force that the bonds bit into her flesh.
“The heart wants what it wants, and I do so love a man in uniform.” Her breath came in fast pants. Oh please, Cecil, keep Simon and yourself safe. Would he care for the boy if this madman succeeded in killing her? Of course, he would; they two belonged together. Why did I not tell him how I feel when I had the chance? “Do whatever you want to me, but leave them alone. I beg of you.”
“That is entirely dependent on what you do in the next few moments.” Owen caught her upper arm in his hand. He hauled her unceremoniously to her feet. “Cooperate with me and I’ll think about leaving them untouched. Now, walk.” To persuade her into following his command, he took his pistol and jammed the nose into her ribs. “I’d highly advise you to do what I ask.”
Fear played her spine. The urge to retch from sheer terror made her swallow a few times. Without the use of her hands, she was nearly helpless. “Where...” She licked her lips and tried to form words again. “Where are we going?”
“A little way off this path. It simply won’t do for someone on their way to Christmas Eve services to see our little... chat.”
He yanked her off the road and into the snow-covered meadow, her dropped packages a sad testament to a celebration that would never happen.
Chapter Seventeen
True to his word, Cecil chopped down a small evergreen tree. He hauled it into the cottage with Simon’s “help.” They set it up in a corner by the hearth. Immediately, the pungent scent of pine filled the common room.
“When can we decorate it?” the boy wanted to know. He kept touching his fingertips to the evergreen needles and then jumping away when they stuck him.
“After dinner.” Cecil sent a glance to the stew bubbling in the kettle over the flames. The bread was nearly done baking, as was a pan of spicy apple dumplings whose scent made his mouth water.
“When is Mama coming back?”
“Hopefully soon.” She’d been gone an hour already. Surely, a quick trip into the village and back again didn’t require more time than that, for he’d made the trip himself a few times. He never had reason to linger at the s
hops; neither would she this time, for she’d said as much.
But when it came time for him to pull the bread out as well as the dumplings, Cecil began to worry. Night had fallen, and still Sarah hadn’t returned.
“Major Stapleton, Mama isn’t back yet.” Concern filled Simon’s eyes, so much like his mother’s. “What should we do?”
What indeed? He couldn’t very well take the child with him in the event trauma had befallen Sarah. “I want you to eat dinner.”
“Without you or Mama?”
“Yes. While you do that, I’m going to walk to the lane gate. Perhaps she’s on her way.” Silently, he gave the boy a portion of the meal, including one of the dumplings. Once Simon was installed at the table, Cecil donned his greatcoat and his top hat as well as his gloves. “I shall return presently.”
“Good luck, Major.” Simon saluted him with his spoon and then tucked into his dinner with enthusiasm.
I fear luck has nothing to do with it.
With determination dogging his steps, Cecil went through the garden gate and then strode down the snow-covered lane. No longer were the ruts and holes visible, for the snow had hidden everything and made it like new. But he didn’t pay any mind to his surroundings, for his gut churned with anxiety. By now, the village shops would have closed, especially since it was Christmas Eve.
Where was she?
When he reached the end of the lane, he pushed open the gate and stood on the road, looked off into the direction of the village. Nothing except darkness met his gaze. The footprints Sarah had made as she set out were partially filled in by the lazy snowfall.
He rubbed a gloved hand along his jaw. This didn’t bode well. Urgency spurred him to return up the lane at a fast march, regardless that the muscles in his right leg protested the sudden, intense movement.
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