Fire Dragon's Angel

by Barbara Blythe

  “There’s so much you don’t know; so much you don’t understand. Earlier this evening, after a conversation with Ceressa, I prayed that God would show me how to express my love for you. I realized the greatest treasure I had to offer you was my precious goddaughter. I convinced her of your unsuitability when I should have encouraged her to spend time with you.”

  “Why?” Latimer’s tone was bitter.

  Ceressa didn’t think she could bear to listen while these two men pierced one another’s heart without a knife or sword. Yet, something compelled her to look within the crack to see. Latimer’s back was to her, rigid and unyielding. Sir Geoffrey was gripping a chair, his knuckles nearly white.

  “Because I have confidence in you.”

  “You had no confidence when I was accused of cheating at Exeter seven years ago. Because I wasn’t the scholar you expected, you believed the lies of a don with a grudge who thought to make a fool of me. I was deeply hurt when you didn’t believe I was innocent. After that, I lost my way with God for I found myself wondering how you, a man who professed to have such faith in the Creator, couldn’t have the same for his own kin. Now, it doesn’t matter. I’ve found my place and you can’t take that away. I have a real home in Virginia, and there are those who respect and believe in me. They depend on me, and I won’t fail them. I will raise Constance’s baby, and I need a wife to do that properly. You expect me to dance to your tune while claiming that my salvation is your primary concern.”

  “That’s not true, Latimer,” Sir Geoffrey said, the sadness in his voice causing the tears to spill from Ceressa’s eyes. “I’ve made so many mistakes—”

  “This time you’ve made a very big one,” Latimer said, interrupting. “I’ve had enough.” Latimer turned and walked toward the door where she stood. Where could she go? Ceressa’s heart hammered so loudly she was certain they’d realize she was there.

  “You walk out without settling the matter of your marriage, and you’ll do so hundreds of pounds poorer.”

  Latimer stopped and whirled about, once again facing Sir Geoffrey. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that I will invoke my partnership rights. If you return to Virginia without promising that you will at least entertain the idea of marrying Ceressa Quarles, I’ll take the Kirkleigh ships off the Virginia route and send them elsewhere.”

  “What?” Latimer demanded. “I’ll be forced to find other ships to transport the tobacco and corn to the London markets cutting into my profits. We had an agreement.” Latimer’s steps were thunderous, conveying his rage as he walked to where Sir Geoffrey stood. He swept out his powerful arm and knocked a vase off a polished mahogany stand.

  Ceressa jumped at the crash.

  “You can’t do this. I inherited Cameron’s interest in the shipping company. You can’t keep the ships from Virginia. Haven’t I seen to it that you received your share of the tobacco sales? I’ve not cheated you of a thing. You’re the lowest sort imaginable if you think to rob me of my birthright. After all, everyone still believes I’m Cameron’s son.”

  “I will do whatever I feel is necessary,” Sir Geoffrey replied, his voice cold and hard.

  Ceressa had never heard him speak in such a way.

  “Apparently those uncivilized ruffians you’ve assembled on your plantation mean more to you than your own flesh and blood.”

  “One of those ‘uncivilized ruffians’ as you call them happens to be my niece and my sister’s child. She is my flesh and blood.”

  “Tainted by the blood of a savage,” Sir Geoffrey spat.

  “That ‘savage’ was one of the finest, most honorable, and intelligent men I’ve ever known. Don’t you dare insult Kitchiwanok, Constance, or April again. Or I’ll forget that you are my father.

  “I just realized something. I don’t need your ships. And I don’t need that simpering Ceressa Quarles for a wife. I don’t care if you don’t approve of whom I choose to marry. For once I’m going to take your advice—I’m going to let God lead me to the woman I should wed.” With that Latimer turned, allowing Ceressa to see his face. He looked as though he could rip someone apart with his bare hands, and she shivered in fear.

  Sir Geoffrey released the chair, clamped his lips together then abruptly strode to the rear of the ornately paneled room. He flung open a door practically hidden by the paneling, passed through it, then drew it shut with an equal amount of force. Ceressa knew that she was about to be discovered, but Latimer sought a seat upon a divan near the fire and dropped heavily upon the velvet surface. Then he lowered his head into his hands. A few seconds passed and he raised his gaze, staring into the flames.

  A wave of faintness washed over Ceressa, and closing her eyes, she pressed her back to the wall, drawing in a breath to steady herself. She had to do something to resolve the dilemma that had caused these two to inflict such terrible damage upon one another. Drawing upon waning courage, she pushed open the door and stepped within, closing it behind her. Once shut, she leaned against it as though she could draw support from its unyielding surface. Latimer turned, his fierce gold-green gaze locking on her, threatening to devour her.

  “What do you want?” he demanded ungraciously.

  “I want to help.” Her words were a hoarse whisper.

  Fire Dragon's Angel

  5

  Ceressa found the strength to walk toward him. Her head told her she was making a mistake, but something stronger assured her that she was doing the right thing. “I was outside, in the hall. I heard the argument.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me.” Latimer’s sarcasm raveled her frayed nerves, and the slight shake told her he thought her a nuisance. He hunched his shoulders forward as though attempting to ease an ache. Why did she feel a nearly irresistible impulse to knead away the discomfort? “So you know it all, now.”

  “You are Sir Geoffrey’s son and the two of you can’t see past old grudges and guilt. Both of you hide because it’s easier than facing the truth and resolving your problems.”

  “You gathered all that by listening to our conversation? So, what, my wise and all-knowing, all-perceiving young woman, is this so-called truth that we’re both avoiding?” Something in his eyes told her he truly wanted an answer. Sadly, that was one thing she couldn’t provide.

  “Only you know that.” Strangely, she was not as terrified as she’d been when she’d entered. Latimer was searching for a wife. There was no reason she couldn’t end his search. But when he discovered who she was—

  He suddenly stood and took her by the shoulders, drawing her close as he lowered his face to hers. “What are you about? Why present this façade of caring?”

  “Because I do. You need a wife. And I am available.” The force of her words surprised her even though she felt like a prized heifer on the auction block. His brows drew together in an unnerving way that told her he was either angry or sorely vexed.

  “You jest.” It was a statement.

  “Why don’t you take a chance and find out?” She was certain he was going to either push her from the room or shake her senseless.

  Unexpectedly, he released her, and she had to grasp the vase-less stand to keep from falling. Latimer walked to the fire and pressed his fist to the mantle while he looked down into the flames. Ceressa easily pictured him as a fire-breathing dragon.

  “Do you understand I live in Virginia, all the way across the Atlantic Ocean? There are few shops and no paved streets. There is filth, and there are insects that carry disease. There are none of the amenities to which you are accustomed.”

  He kept his gaze on the fire, and nervously, Ceressa clasped her hands.

  “There are hostile natives who want the white man to leave. Wild animals ravage and kill, and some of the white inhabitants are foul and unacceptable. It is a primitive, untamed land that promises only death if one is not wary and alert. And I have the responsibility of raising my sister’s three-year-old child. You would seriously consider living there?”

  He turned, drawi
ng up to his full, intimidating height. Ceressa met his relentless gaze as she lifted her chin. Surely, she’d taken complete leave of her senses, but she knew what she had to do. This was the path God would want her to take because Latimer needed her so very badly. Even if he didn’t know it yet. She couldn’t let the wilderness or the savages or the ferocious animals and barbaric people keep her from her mission.

  “Yes, I would live there with you.” There was an interminable silence that stretched while he simply stared.

  “You have reasons for wanting to leave London?” he asked at last. Indeed, she did. It was the only way she could marry the man who’d lived in her dreams. She had a very good reason.

  “I have.”

  “Are you hoping to elude creditors?” he asked derisively.

  “Certainly not,” she burst out, offended.

  Latimer seemed determined to insult her.

  “Could it be a lover has left you with more than fond memories, and you are in need of a husband and father?” His gaze dropped to her midsection, and she felt hot flames of embarrassment.

  “You are an insufferable pig to even suggest such.”

  “Indeed, I am, madam, and worse at times, I fear. I don’t suppose you’re wanted for murder?”

  “Possibly yours if you ask another insulting question.” Ceressa folded her arms in a display of outrage.

  He chuckled. “You’re not the only one who’d like to dispatch me at the moment. But—no.”

  “No what?” she asked, confused and wondering what she’d missed.

  “No, thank you. I don’t need a wife badly enough to trust another mercenary woman. I’ve already had a fickle female cost me a goodly amount of my hard-earned gold then, without a shred of remorse, flee with another, wealthier prospect. She declared a week ago that she would cherish me forever. How vagarious is a woman’s affections.”

  “How disrespectful to throw me into the same lot with this woman whom you hold in such low esteem. You are despicable and without conscience, so it’s just as well you’ve rejected my offer. Besides, I’ve changed my mind.” She marched to the door, too furious to cry, labeling herself a silly, lovesick girl.

  Unexpectedly, Latimer halted her by clasping her shoulders, then he glared down. Summoning every bit of anger and outrage, she returned his glare. “What is the meaning of this affront?” His hold tightened, dispelling her urge to wrench free.

  “It occurred to me that I will never see you again, so I thought I would tell you what I despise. A lying, deceitful woman.”

  Ceressa’s heart slammed against her ribs, restricting her breathing. Did he know the truth? Was he now playing some sort of twisted game?

  “I will not tolerate a false tongue, and I am heartily sick of those who think nothing of destroying souls by flinging a careless lie about, then trampling the poor idiots who believe them. Do you understand?”

  Ceressa understood too clearly. She understood that if he should ever find out who she really was he would thrash her within an inch of her life. But no need to fear. She would never tell him she was Ceressa Quarles.

  Suddenly, his expression softened and his grasp eased. “But I’ve known from the moment I laid eyes upon you that you were somehow different. In a strange way, I admire you for offering to marry me.” Drawing her against him, he whispered into her ear, his lips brushing her sensitive lobe and setting every nerve a tingle. “Do you fear me?”

  “I don’t fear you. But I fear what lurks inside you—a fire breathing dragon that fights a battle that can never be won.”

  “Enough of your wise sayings,” he declared as he straightened, though his hands remained on her shoulders. “You’re too young to know what you’re saying. You will give me your name, now.”

  Shaken by his ferocity, Ceressa searched her rattled brain. Having endured his cynicism and accusations, she no longer felt morally bound to tell the truth. He didn’t deserve truth. But the reality was that she’d engaged in her little charade far too long and all for naught. She was no closer to fulfilling her dream than she’d been an hour earlier. Yet, she wanted to leave him with the memory of her as a woman. Not a memory of her as the child who’d been afraid of a horse until he’d shown her what gentle, loving creatures most of them were.

  She gazed up with great confidence, aware that it hardly mattered what name she gave for he would soon be out of her life. Forever.

  She mirrored her thoughts. “It hardly matters, does it?”

  “If that is so,” he returned in that mocking way, “I shall have a kiss, knowing I will never see you again.” Her bravery deserted her, and she knew that her shoulders quaked beneath his fingers. His expression softened, and a look of surprise filled his eyes.

  “You act as though you’ve never had a man taste of your lips. I believe you are trembling.”

  “That I am, for as I tried to tell you, I am neither the wanton nor mercenary that you assume I am. I have never known a man’s kiss other than my father’s upon my brow.”

  “I think I believe you.” He was surprised. Removing one hand from her shoulder, he cupped her chin and tilted her head back. “I may enjoy this much more than I imagined,” he murmured before lowering his head and covering her mouth.

  A thousand lights exploded about Ceressa as though fireworks had ignited. Rendered immobile, Ceressa stood as a stone statue, struggling to make sense of what was happening. Without fully realizing it, she slid one hand up his scarlet-clad chest until it rested behind his head, and she shamelessly returned his kiss. But in doing so, she unleashed something within Latimer that caused him to crush her to him.

  Fear gathered her scattered wits, and she shoved him away. He made no effort to touch her as he stood there staring, breathing heavily. As am I, she thought in horror, aware that she had ventured into some strange, unknown realm beyond a girlish fantasy. She’d thought herself full grown, capable of handling any and all situations. The brief moments in Latimer’s arms assured her she was not ready to deal with the nameless, conflicting emotions he’d stirred within.

  “I’ve overstayed my welcome,” Ceressa managed unsteadily through lips that quivered and still burned from his mouth. She had to clasp hands to keep from touching them.

  His eyes darkened, but he dipped his head in acknowledgement.

  “I’ll return you to the festivities posthaste.” He moved past her to the door. After she exited, he brought the door closed. It was a silent, tense walk to the ballroom, whereupon Latimer immediately excused himself. Going to the ship, I suppose. Sadness and relief warred within.

  Releasing a deep sigh, she decided to find Sir Geoffrey and tell him she wished to return home. Coward, she silently accused. But should I encounter the viscount after being kissed by Latimer, I fear I will swoon. I suppose I am ruined for the rest of my life.

  Just as she spotted her godfather, she noticed Mrs. Haycock, Sir Geoffrey’s housekeeper, hurrying toward her, nervously twisting hands. Ceressa had never seen the woman ruffled, which was why Sir Geoffrey was so fond of her. Alarm spread at the sight of the woman’s wild eyes, her cheeks streaked with tears, her padded frame quaking as her gray curls bounced in agitation. The woman’s frightful appearance sent fear racing as Ceressa moved to meet the woman. “Mrs. Haycock, whatever is the matter?” She took hold of the woman’s trembling arm.

  “Mistress Ceressa, ’tis horrible, it is. Something dreadful has happened”—the woman swallowed with some difficulty before continuing—“to your parents.”

  Fire Dragon's Angel

  6

  Ceressa willed herself to remain standing even though her knees threatened to buckle. She’d misunderstood the woman. Her parents were safe in Cornwall. “Mrs. Haycock, I don’t understand.”

  “There’s a man at the kitchen door claiming to be an employee of Lord Cason sent by his lordship’s brother-in-law, Master Charles Herrington.” Mrs. Haycock paused to blow her nose in a white handkerchief.

  Ceressa knew Herrington, who was in partnership
with Lord Cason as a result of his marriage to Cason’s sister. She’d encountered Herrington at gatherings she’d attended with her parents, but had never felt comfortable around him. He had a penchant for hugging and kissing females, all cordiality and goodwill. Ceressa shuddered at the memory of her narrow escapes.

  As for Lord Victor Cason, he was Jonathan’s solicitor, handling all legal issues. Lord Cason and Herrington probably knew more about the Quarles’s finances, holdings, and personal activities than did her parents.

  “He says your parents have had an accident in Cornwall and that you’re to go immediately to Master Herrington for further details.”

  “An accident?” Ceressa repeated. The blood in her veins turned to ice. Frantic, she craned her neck, looking for Sir Geoffrey, but he was nowhere to be seen. No trace of Lady Kirkleigh. Nor was there any sign of Latimer. Not that she’d ask him for help. “Are you telling me they’ve been hurt?”

  “Oh, Mistress Ceressa, you must go to Master Herrington. He knows what’s happened. I’m so distraught I can’t think straight. The man in the kitchen says a wheel on your father’s carriage broke, and the carriage went over the rocky cliffs in Cornwall. It’s almost a certainty that your parents didn’t survive. I must find Sir Geoffrey. My, there’s so many about, I can’t even see him.” Mrs. Haycock looked close to fainting, and Ceressa knew she was in no condition to search for her employer.

  “I’ll go see the man in the kitchen. You need to take a seat until you feel more yourself. Surely, Sir Geoffrey or Lady Kirkleigh will pass by. Here, sit down.” Ceressa led the woman to a chair upholstered in cream satin. “This may be a misunderstanding.”

  “What a horrible mess!” The housekeeper sobbed.

  “It’ll be all right, Mrs. Haycock,” Ceressa assured the woman even though it was painful to breathe, and her heart was about to pound out of her chest. “Just sit here and keep your eyes open for sight of Sir Geoffrey. I’m sure I’ll need his advice.” Mrs. Haycock nodded, and Ceressa turned, walking sedately away from the hysterical woman. She managed to take about ten steps, then lifted her skirt and petticoats and ran until she burst into the kitchen. There, by the fire, sat a man of such disreputable appearance Ceressa thought Herrington’s messenger had gone somewhere else to await her. But he looked up as though he’d been expecting her and came quickly to his feet. Sweeping off the object on his head that was so ragged it could hardly be called a hat, he gave her a bow. His hands were grimy, his body rail thin, and his straggling hair fell to his bony shoulders. A foul smell clung, and Ceressa was forced to take a step back or risk heaving. The servants were so intent upon their duties that not a one gave more than a passing glance and a respectful nod to her. Surely Charles Herrington would never have sent such a repugnant man to bring her a message.