by Jo Goodman
"Of course."
Rae pushed herself up from her elbows and waited for Jericho to take her in his arms. When he did not she realized with some shock that he was afraid. Well, he was not the only one afraid, and if the truth be told, not the only one who had said things in order to hurt. "I lied about seeing your face when the duke touches me. I did it to—to—"
"I understand," he said quietly. "I deserve far worse punishment than being put in my place." He lifted his arms tentatively, reaching for her but not quite touching. "You need to decide if this is where you want to be."
Rae inched closer so that if he were to close the circle of his arms she would be wrapped in his embrace. It was like testing the waters before taking the plunge, she thought as her hand slowly lifted to touch his chest. Her palm rested flat against his linen shirt and she could feel the racing of his heart and the warm heat of his body. Did she really want to be comforted in his arms? she wondered. Was it weakness that made her turn to him, or evidence of the strength of the love she had borne him? She wasn't certain; not even when her head rested against the curve of his shoulder did she completely understand what made her want Jericho to ease her pain. She only knew that when his arms finally eased around her she felt a stillness within her breast, a sense of peace that had been lacking for more weeks than she cared to remember.
Though Jericho wanted to envelope Rae, he forced himself to hold her loosely, alert to even the smallest indication on her part that she wanted to be free of him. "Is it all right for you here?" he asked at last. He wondered if she understood how much comfort he derived from the feel of her smooth cheek sliding against his shoulder as she nodded her head in assent. "You know it will never happen again, don't you?"
"I never believed it would happen in the first place," she told him with bitter honesty. "I have lost count of the times I've asked myself if I was to blame. I think: What if I provoke him again with my willfulness? Needs must he repeat the lesson?"
"No!" he swore softly.
Rae's head lifted as she sought his sharp profile in the darkness. "I know you mean that now, but when the situation is upon us, how can you know you will not want to assert your will again?"
"I know because I would sooner take a pistol to my head."
"I'll prime the thing for you," she said, meaning it.
"It would be a kindness," he said. "I have never known so great a misery than these weeks since Hemmings."
"I thought you meant to put me from your mind."
"A thing easier said than accomplished."
"And what of your promise not to lift a finger to help me from a tangle of my own making?"
"No promise, that. Another lie."
She sighed, lowering her head once more to his shoulder as her pride battled with her common sense. For the moment her pride won, because Jericho's words of that fateful afternoon still stung. He had pointed out too clearly that someone had always come to her rescue, and just once she wanted to prove that she could stand without him or any man. She would find a way to escape the hunt without his help; then he would never doubt her ability to care for herself again. She bit her lip, mulling it over, and when she spoke it was of something else.
"Have you given any thought to the documents?"
"Yes." Jericho did not share Rae's dilemma of pride warring with common sense. He was able to admit that the old duke's will offered a much better way of discrediting and disposing of Nigel than calling him out. "I am prepared to look for the papers. I've discussed it briefly with Drew, and he agrees with me that it is the sane thing to do. You say the documents are in the duke's study?"
"I think they must be. His desk there is where he keeps important papers. It will be difficult to get into, what with so many guests about, but I think it can be accomplished at night."
"I expect I can count on Nigel to be seeing to the pleasures of any one of his female guests."
Quite against her will Rae's mind formed a picture of the duke sliding into her own bed, touching her with his cold, impersonal hands, kissing her mouth with passionless lips and bent on making use of her because of the hatred he bore the McClellans. She shivered.
"Red?"
"It will pass in a moment." But it did not, and she lifted her head in the same moment Jericho brought his closer to question her. His lips touched her cheek and a wave of nausea swept her. "Dear God," she whispered, covering her mouth with her hand. With her free hand she pushed Jericho away and leaped from the bed, running to the chamber pot behind the silk dressing screen. Minutes later, recovered from her bout of sickness, she returned to her bed, unable to decide if she were relieved or desolate that Jericho was no longer in the room.
Chapter 14
The duke's study had no fire in the hearth to light Jericho's progress from the door to the desk. He paused after taking a few steps inside and bumping against the sharp edge of a walnut end table. He cursed softly while he waited for his eyes to take advantage of the pool of moonlight filtering through the large study window. Drew Goodfellow waited on the other side of the door, ready to alert Jericho if there was any danger that the secretive breaking and entering might be chanced upon. Even with Drew's presence to warn him, Jericho felt the need to move quickly. He sat in the duke's chair and ran his fingers along the face of the drawer, feeling for the lock. Finding it, he took a small pick from his waistcoat pocket and fiddled with the tiny opening in the brass plate. At the same time his free hand slipped along the underside of the desk, searching for the hidden spring that would release the drawer in concert with his makeshift key. The scratching of the pick sounded unbearably loud in the quiet room, and the spring's final clicking seemed deafening. Jericho found himself holding his breath as he slowly slid the drawer open.
The room was simply too dark to permit Jericho to examine the content of the papers he found. He gathered them, prayed he could return them to their proper place, and carried them across to the window, holding them up to the pale silvery light. It only took a few minutes to determine the documents Rae had told him about were not among those he held in his hand. Still, he took the time to go through them twice before he returned them to the drawer. He searched the desk again, hoping to find a more cleverly concealed place where the duke might keep important papers. He was very pleased with himself when he found it and smiled with grim satisfaction as he lifted the contents. The smile vanished as he leafed through the papers and found nothing but a continuation of the kind of threatening correspondence Nigel had determined would bring Ashley and the McClellans to their knees. The most recent missive was dated but a week earlier, and Jericho skimmed it, stopping to read it carefully only when he came across Rae's name.
Jericho's face was a terrible thing to see, devoid of expression save for the muscle jumping in his cheek as he read the duke's description of the humiliation he had planned for Rahab. Hands trembling, Jericho returned the letters to their hiding place, then slipped out of the study, abandoning the search for the will and birth record, recognizing the futility of trying to find them if they were not in the desk.
"Nothing," he said tightly in answer to Drew's questioning look. "Let's go." Jericho followed Drew down the empty hallway and up the servants' staircase. Outside the door to his room Jericho stopped. "I have to see Rahab."
"Are you mad, laddie? The duke's sleeping in his own bed this night."
"I'll be quiet."
"You'll be dead."
Jericho waved his hand impatiently. "I must talk to Red. It cannot be helped."
Drew shook his head, certain his young friend was showing a foolish lack of regard for his own skin. "Do what you will, but mind that you tread softly. And whatever you do, don't upset the poor girl like you did the other night. Keep your hands in your pockets."
Jericho took a steadying breath, thinking that no one had ever dared to speak to him in such a fashion in recent years. If anyone but Drew had thrown salt on his open wounds Jericho would have laid him out. Instead he jammed his thumbs in the waist
band of his breeches. "I'm unlikely to touch her ever again, old man. I don't need you to remind me." He turned on his heel and strode off to the wing of the house that held Rahab's room.
It was four in the morning when Rae woke, sensing that she was not alone any longer. Almost immediately she was alert, sitting up against the headboard and knuckling sleep from her eyes. Blinking to clear her blurred vision, she saw Jericho sitting in the damask-covered chair beside her bed, looking for all the world as if there was nothing alarming about his presence in her room. Somehow she had not expected him to seek her out again. He must have been revolted by her inability to control herself, she thought. In the past two days he had gone out of his way to avoid her, so much so that Nigel had asked her what she had done to give him disgust of her.
Rae offered an explanation that suggested the duke's honored guest had overstepped the boundaries of good taste by asking her to share his bed. Rather than being offended by the news, Nigel studied Rae's tense features thoughtfully, as if contemplating the merits of giving her to Lord Thomas Adams himself. Why not, Rae considered; it was apparent from the recent play in the library that Nigel was going to give his guest the game.
For two nights running Rae had dutifully followed Nigel's orders to indicate Jericho's cards, and Nigel had chosen to lose to his opponent. Rae did not like to think about the reasons the duke had decided to allow Jericho to win, for she suspected that Nigel found something to admire in the younger man. It bothered her not a little that Nigel supposed he and Jericho were two facets of the same diamond, glittering cold and hard with an icy self-possession that could serve up a cutting glance as easily as if it were cutting glass. It bothered her because in the last two days she had entertained similar thoughts, having now been on the receiving end of Jericho's aloof and disinterested gaze more times than she cared to remember. She admitted it frightened her that he might indeed be ruthlessly dismissing her from his life. Still, she was not entirely unsympathetic. There was a part of her that envied Jericho's ability to do what apparently she could not: completely sever the bonds of love.
"How long have you been here?" she whispered, certain he could see the yearning in her eyes and wishing it were not her lot to want what she could not have.
"A few minutes."
"The duke is—"
"Yes, I know. It was necessary I talk to you." Jericho's fingers itched to touch the white column of Rae's throat, to stroke her gently and ease the note of fear he heard in her voice. Instead his hands clenched the arms of the chair until his knuckles were bloodless. "I went to the duke's study. There was no evidence of the documents."
Rae closed her eyes a moment as if feeling a blow. She did not insult him by asking if he was certain. Jericho was nothing if not thorough. "What is to be done?"
"I have not yet decided. I only came from there. I could call Nigel out for cheating at cards, though it would be hard to make a case when the man is bent on losing to me. I doubt that killing him would be viewed in a very favorable light under those circumstances. If he continues as he did tonight, I will have his notes tomorrow. Have I made my cards visible enough for you?"
"Yes. But what would you do if Nigel decided he wanted to win?"
"The same. Stanhope is not the important thing here, Red. It is, and always has been, a means to an end. If I withheld my cards from your view it is you who would suffer. I will not have more of your suffering on my conscience."
"Jericho..." There was a hint of pleading in her tone.
"There is another matter I wish to discuss," he said. "A matter of some import. Though I did not find the documents, I did stumble upon—"
"Shh!" Rae said urgently, scrambling to her knees and cocking her head toward the connecting door. "I heard something."
Jericho had heard it also, the sound of a harsh curse in the adjoining room, and he was already moving toward the door, anticipating the duke's entry. A second raised voice stopped him, and he and Rae realized at the same time that the curse was not directed at anything that was occurring in their room.
Rae slipped into her dressing gown as she padded across the room and came to stand at Jericho's side. He warned her to be quiet by raising a finger to his lips and then both of them moved to the door. It was not necessary to press an ear to the wood or an eye to the keyhole to recognize the owners of the angry voices as Nigel Lynne and Charles Newbrough.
It startled Rae to hear the duke's chilling tones unleashed in a red haze of fury. She thought that if Nigel's letters to Ashley had a voice, this would be the sound of them. She could not imagine what Newbrough could have done to prompt Nigel to show so much naked emotion.
"How dare you threaten me!" Nigel said, his words edged with ice.
"A threat? Is that how you see it, old man?" The earl was surprisingly calm. "I prefer to think I am merely apprising you of some facts."
Nigel went on as if Newbrough had not spoken. "In my own home! How dare you abuse my hospitality and my privacy!"
"Really, Nigel, you are carrying your act as the insulted host a bit beyond bearing when the reality is that I am the injured party."
"You? You deserve to lose more than your lands, you sniveling blighter!"
"Are you thinking of calling me out?" Newbrough asked. "I can't think what it would serve. Not when my seconds would be instructed to release the documents in my possession. I cannot conceive what made you keep your father's will, Nigel, though I would venture that it was no mere oversight, but further proof that you believe yourself above the touch of the law. It's just as well for me, for you have provided me with the means of control. Do you seriously believe I would have asked you to play for me if I had no way of managing you?" Newbrough laughed then, a pitying sort of laugh that was meant to grate on Nigel's nerves. "You don't have to answer. I can see that you did. Poor Nigel, so shocked that someone other than yourself has some leverage."
"Shut up. I will not let you take Linfield from me."
"You mistake my meaning in coming here if you think that is what I want. I don't want Linfield. I want two things from you, and neither of them is your title or your lands. I want to retain Stanhope. Did you think I would not notice you are purposely losing to Adams? Your actions have forced my hand. If you had won my notes and returned them to me I would never have mentioned what I discovered in your family Bible. In fact, I had every intention of leaving those documents in their place, relying on your honor and hoping I would not have need of them. But you may recall your mistress was overzealous in her duties as a maid. When I realized someone might chance upon them in much the way I had, I knew I had to remove them."
"What have you done with them?"
"They're safe enough. And yours again as soon as you deliver my notes to me."
"You don't deserve Stanhope," Nigel said. "You are naught but a peasant who happened upon a great title simply because the estate was entailed."
"People who reside in glass houses," Newbrough said warningly. "Our situations are similar, don't you think? But there is one important difference. I own Stanhope, and I made certain there is no one else to lay claim to my lands. You were foolish not to dispose of your ward, excuse me, your niece, long ago. Why didn't you?"
"It is not your affair. You said earlier that you wanted two things, yet you have spoken only of the notes. What is this second demand of yours?"
"Anxious for this interview to end?" the earl asked smoothly. "And I was enjoying it so."
"On with it, man, or I swear I'll kill you now."
"That would not be wise. Your secret would become very public upon my untimely death. What with the way you've been shouting, I shouldn't be surprised if a dozen of your guests don't know of it now. Oh, very well, Nigel, there is no need to pitch daggers at me. In addition to the return of my notes, I want you to guarantee that I shall capture Rahab during the hunt."
"Is that all? You may have her now, if it's your desire."
Rae reached blindly for Jericho's arm, leaning on him weakly. Her terror w
as so great that she did not hear Newbrough's response, but she was certain Jericho did. His body was coiled with tension as he scooped her up and carried her back to the bed. After he helped her out of her dressing gown, Rae huddled beneath the covers at the head of the bed. Jericho's hands fell uselessly at his sides, and he despised his inability to comfort her. From the other room he heard the door being slammed in the earl's wake and the sound of glass shattering as Nigel gave full vent to his rage.
"You have to leave here, Red," he said, leaning over and placing a hand on either side of her. "Drew's friends are at Blackamore's in Hemmings. You have only to present yourself and they'll see to your safety. Will you go?"
"Yes," she said wearily. A heavy tiredness settled over her and she was incapable of protest even if she had wanted to voice one. "Shall I leave now?"
"No. It will be light soon. You must wait until tomorrow night. Drew or I will let you out of your room."
Rae shook her head. "It would be better if I left during a break in the card playing. Then no one would suspect I had help. You can stay here without fear of being implicated in my departure."
Jericho saw the wisdom in that. "All right. But the breaks are only thirty minutes long. It is not much of a head start for you."
She laughed without humor. "More than I would get in the hunt."
"You've known about it all along, haven't you? And I only found out this evening when I was reading the duke's letters. Why didn't you tell me that Nigel had such a thing planned?"
"A matter of pride, I suppose. I wanted to prove that I did not require your assistance. You made a point of telling me I was incapable of caring for myself."
That set Jericho back on his heels. "Surely you must know I said that in order to keep you at my side."
"Nonetheless, it is true."
"Then it is true for me as well. Do you think that I could have survived Yorktown without your help? No, I see it never occurred to you. I wish to God there was time to settle this, but I must go. Take nothing with you when you leave tomorrow night, and for your safety stay off the main road, to the left if you can, for I believe the cover is better. Do you climb trees, Red?"