The Rebel

by C. J. Archer

  "Nick," she sobbed and buried her face in his chest.

  He stroked her hair. Such a beautiful color in the bright sunlight. She was crying uncontrollably, her whole body heaving with every sob. Could she hear his thundering heartbeat through her sorrow? Did she know it beat for her? Only for her. She must be able to feel it. Must know that her tears were about to break him. He closed his eyes and drew in a shuddering breath.

  Then he opened them and pushed her away.

  She gasped and blinked at him. At least she'd stopped crying. "Nick?" She shook her head over and over. Her mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out.

  Henry put his arm around her and tried to steer her away, but she didn't budge.

  "Go home, Lucy," Cole said. "This is not your business." God, it hurt. Every word burned his throat. Her lower lip wobbled again and he couldn't do it, couldn't look at her anymore. She was going to undo the wall he'd tried so hard to build up between them. He thought he'd completed it, but seeing her so vulnerable and soft and loving… the bloody thing was crumbling all over again. He fixed on a point to the left of her.

  "But Nick… "

  "I don't answer to that name." He pushed past her, and she heaved a sob. He concentrated on emptying his mind, stilling his heartbeat. It worked, but it took enormous effort and inflamed his headache.

  "Let's go," he said to Sawyer. "There's nothing for me here."

  Lucy wanted to scream at him. How could he do this? How could he say those things? The ground shifted under her feet, and she couldn't keep her balance. Her legs felt weak and she wanted to lie down but something held her upright. Henry. It must be he.

  "Come now, Sis," he said. "I'll take you home."

  Home. No. She should be with Nick.

  But Nick didn't want her. Didn't love her. He'd been telling her that for a day or more, but she'd not believed him. Refused to hear it. How could he not care after the intense lovemaking they'd shared?

  Foolish, foolish Lucy Cowdrey. Duped again by a man who only wanted to tumble her. Pathetic creature.

  "Wait here." Henry left her to run after the Larkham men. They loaded Nick onto the back of their cart. Upfield tied a rope around Nick's wrist as Henry spoke to Sawyer.

  The party left with Nick in the back of the cart, his head bowed, and the Larkham men and boys riding beside him. Oxley and Monk rode with them too.

  Henry returned and steered her to her waiting cart.

  "He wouldn't fight," she said. Her voice sounded small. "Why wouldn’t he fight them? He could have been free."

  Henry blew out a breath. "To keep his friends safe, perhaps?"

  Keep their disguises intact. Yes. That must be it. Odd how her mind was working fast, thinking through everything both Nick and his friends had told her, and yet her body felt like a weakened vessel with cracks running through it.

  "They're taking him to Sutton Grange," Henry said. "There's a small jail cell attached to the Plough Inn. He'll await the assizes there."

  "That's something, isn't it?" She had no idea what she was saying, let alone what she meant.

  Henry stopped alongside the cart and turned her to face him. "Did he do it, Lucy?" Poor Henry. He seemed as exhausted as she felt. The dark skin beneath his eyes sagged like empty sacks, and the furrows on his brow were so deep they'd probably become permanent.

  The sun slipped behind a cloud and she felt instantly colder. She hugged herself. "Yes."

  Henry swore. "The cur. He deceived us. God, Lucy, I'm so sorry."

  She ought to tell him Renny deserved to die, that Nick wasn't all bad, but she could no longer be sure of that. He must be bad to some degree because he'd crushed her heart and not blinked an eye.

  ***

  "Murder," Hughe said to Sawyer with a shake of his head. "I can't believe it. I just can't believe it."

  "How well do you know him, my lord?" Sawyer asked.

  "Not well, as it turns out, wouldn't you say?" Hughe laughed his tinkling dandy laugh. It was utterly convincing. If Cole hadn't known it was all an act, he'd have believed the man riding the white horse was the most ridiculous fop to ever have visited Hampshire.

  Monk rode behind the cart, directly in Cole's line of sight. He rolled his eyes, safe in the knowledge that the Larkham men and boys had their backs to him. Cole looked away and stared at the passing fields, but that only brought Lucy's sad, tear stained face to mind.

  His stomach clenched into a tight ball. He groaned and pulled his legs up to stave off the nausea. It shouldn't feel like this. He'd walked away before, but he'd never been hit so hard.

  Lucy was different. She shone a light on the small corner of his soul that wasn't completely overwhelmed by the dark. It was the corner where the happy, trusting youth he'd been before he'd killed his mother cowered, just waiting for someone's hand to guide him out.

  Cole loved her.

  That's why he had to let her go.

  "You well?" Monk's voice startled him.

  "Well enough if I ignore the splitting headache," Cole said.

  "No talking to the prisoner," Upfield snarled.

  Cole didn't know what he was worried about. It wasn't like they could discuss escape plans out in the open. It wasn't like escaping was even an option. Cole sat against the back of the cart, a rope tying each of his hands to cast iron rings on either side of him. He couldn't even scratch himself.

  "How in God's name did you find him?" Hughe asked.

  "You're his friend, are you?" Sawyer asked. "I'm afraid we can't discuss particulars with you. I apologize, my lord." Cole almost felt sorry for him. Sawyer seemed like a good man, but Hughe's presence obviously confused him. Most men would let someone of that rank take over, but Sawyer had not offered to step back and let Hughe give the orders. On the other hand, Hughe gave no sign that he was interested in giving any.

  "Come now, I simply want to know how you managed to do it. And 'friend' is a term much bandied about these days. We're acquaintances, no more. He's worked for me from time to time, much as Monk does. The likes of them and I being friends is laughable." He laughed. Nobody else joined in.

  "We found him," the younger of the boys, Frankie, said.

  "Did you now?" Hughe sounded impressed. "And how did you do that, pray?"

  Frankie told him how he'd seen Cole remove the disguise then run home to tell his brother. "Then we heard about Pa."

  "My sympathies, lads." It sounded utterly sincere and knowing Hughe, it would have been. "Why didn't you go to the authorities then?"

  "A bloody good question," Upfield growled. "Wouldn't have wasted so much time if they had."

  "Come now," Sawyer said. "They're just children."

  "I am not a child," the oldest boy, Peter, said. "We did tell someone. We told the first grown up we saw when we left our house. Mr. Wright."

  Cole's gaze slid to Monk's. Wright was the father of one of the girls who'd been raped by Renny. He had every reason to keep the villagers off Cole's trail.

  "You should've come to one of your Pa's friends," Upfield grumbled. "Wright's got no authority in the village. He doesn't get things done."

  "He still should've followed up on their account," Sawyer said, thoughtful.

  "He probably assumed the lads were larking," Hughe said. "Or were just so distraught about their father that they were making it up. Don't blame him."

  "You're right, my lord," Sawyer said.

  Upfield responded with a grunt.

  "It is quite an unbelievable tale," Hughe said lightly. "A disguise, eh? I'd never have pegged Cole as the sort to dress up. Tell me, what did you do next? How did you find the villain?"

  Villain? Cole scowled. Hughe was acting the part of unsympathetic employer a little too well.

  "We followed him," Frankie said.

  "My lord," Sawyer corrected him.

  "My lord," Frankie added. "Ma thought we was in bed, but we slipped out. My lord."

  "Aye, and when she discovered you both gone in the morning, she fell into a pani
c." Sawyer clicked his tongue. "Don't do that to her again."

  "Go on," Hughe urged.

  "There's two ways out of Larkham," Peter said. "Since Frankie saw him at the mill, we guessed he'd gone the Sutton Grange road, so that's the way we went. We know most of the lads working on the farms along the way, so we woke 'em up. Most sleep in the barn, so it weren't hard to do in secret. We asked if they'd seen a big man with dark skin passing." He shrugged. "No one thinks to ask children, you see."

  "We thought of it, didn't we, Peter?" Frankie said, beaming at his older brother.

  "Aye. We only needed to talk to two lads, and we knew we was going the right way. One said he let the man fill his wine skin from the water in the well, and the other said he'd seen him pass. The farm lad was with his wench in the bushes, half asleep, and this man walked right by 'em."

  Monk tsk tsked. He seemed to be enjoying hearing about Cole's mistakes. Ordinarily Cole would have responded with a barb or a withering look, but he didn't have the heart to banter with him.

  "Looked to us like the man had left the Sutton Grange road, so we did too."

  "But we got lost," Frankie said. "There were fields and meadows everywhere. They all look the same, my lord, especially at night. My lord."

  "I imagine they do."

  "We got really tired a little after dawn," Peter said. "Frankie couldn't walk much further, so we found a hedgerow and pushed aside the branches and leaves to make enough space to lie down in."

  "Once we was settled, we was well hidden, my lord." Frankie beamed. "No one could see us."

  Cole nodded. He certainly hadn't seen anyone when he settled near the hedgerow. Admittedly he hadn't been looking for small boys hiding out.

  "I woke up first," Peter said. "I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw him so close. He was asleep, so I crept out of the hedgerow quiet as can be. I picked up a stick and just as I was about to hit him, he woke up. I still got a good crack in before he turned round."

  "I can see that," Hughe said. "Quite a cut on his head. It made him lose his memory."

  "Really?" Peter sounded pleased.

  "I woke up then," Frankie said. "We was really angry with him, Peter and me. Terrible angry. We kicked him. A lot."

  "Don't feel bad, lad," Upfield said. "He killed yer Pa. You had a right to do what you did."

  "Why did you stop?" Cole asked. "Why didn't you kill me?"

  "Shut it," Upfield snapped. "You don't speak."

  "Let the man talk," Hughe said.

  "He's my prisoner, and I'll—"

  "I said, let the man talk." Steel edged Hughe's voice, leaving no one in any doubt that he would use his rank if he had to.

  "As you wish," Upfield muttered.

  "My lord," Hughe prompted.

  Upfield hesitated only briefly before repeating the title, just as Frankie had repeated it upon Sawyer's urging earlier.

  "Answer the prisoner, Peter," Sawyer said gently. "Why did you stop?"

  "I began to think, what if it's not him? What if Frankie got it wrong?"

  "I didn't," Frankie said.

  "I know that now, Toadstool. But at the time, I couldn't do it. He was just lying there, and we was kicking him, and he didn't get up." He sniffed then tried to cover it with a cough.

  "It's all right, lad," Cole said. "I don't blame you. I would have done the same thing in your place."

  "Don't talk to me!" Peter shouted. "I hate you."

  Cole tipped his head back, but that just made his head bump against the barrier separating him and the driver. He already had enough of a headache. He didn't need to make it worse.

  "Then the lady came," Frankie said, "so we ran off."

  "Did you go home?" Hughe asked.

  "Aye," said Peter. "But we told no one. I thought we'd killed him. I got worried that maybe he wasn't the murderer, and we'd be in trouble, so we kept quiet for a day or two, until I couldn't stand it no more. I wanted to know what had happened, if we'd killed him. If he was the right one."

  "There was talk in the village about a special knife he'd used to kill Pa," Frankie said. "The blade's hidden inside the handle, real clever."

  "So we decided to come back and 'vestigate," Peter said. "We told Ma we was camping down by the creek for a bit to clear our heads. We used to do it a lot with Pa before… "

  "She was worried about you out there on your own," Sawyer said. "But she told me she had to let you go, that you needed to remember the good things about your Pa. If she'd known what you were really up to, she'd have wrung your necks. She probably still might when my message reaches her."

  "You found me at Cowdrey Farm easily enough," Cole said to the boys.

  "Aye, once we realized whose land we'd seen you on," Peter said, apparently forgetting he didn't want Cole to speak to him. "Frankie hid out in the loft at the barn, and I asked for a job. When I saw you walking about with a bandage on your head, I realized you was alive. Me and Frankie planned to look through your pack and see if you had that knife. If you did, we'd know you was the one who killed Pa."

  "But then Mr. Upfield and Mr. Sawyer arrived," Frankie said. "When we found out they was staying the night, we decided to do nothing until the next night."

  "We didn't want to tell them yet," Peter said. "Not until we had proof."

  "Should've said something then," Upfield muttered. "Could've saved everyone a lot of time."

  "You got that proof the following night?" Hughe asked.

  "Aye, my lord sir," Frankie said. "We stole his pack. That special knife was inside. When we found it, we headed home, but met Mr. Upfield and Mr. Sawyer on the way. We told 'em everything."

  "What industrious lads you both are," Hughe said. "I could sorely use men like you in my employ. Tell me, what do you think of girls?"

  Monk smiled at Cole. Cole rolled his eyes but couldn't hide his smirk. Even in the most adverse times, Hughe the dandy could lift his mood.

  Hughe ruffled the boy's hair. "It's most fortunate I was visiting my friend Holt," he said to the men. "With Lord Lynden away, I can oversee the arrangements in his stead. When is the next assizes to be held in Sutton Grange?"

  "A fortnight," Sawyer said.

  "Too bloody long," Upfield growled.

  "And how far away is the coroner?" Hughe asked.

  "It'll take about three days to get him here," Sawyer said. He cleared his throat. "Ah, forgive me for saying this, my lord, but I think it's best if you refrain from participating at all."

  "Oh?"

  "I wouldn't want your reputation to come into question, since you know the murderer."

  "Not very well it would seem. I'm taken aback to learn of his crime."

  "I haven't been found guilty yet," Cole reminded him.

  "You will be," Upfield said. "We know you did it."

  "I'm afraid he's right, Cole," Hughe said, matter-of-fact. "There are witnesses."

  It was enough. More than enough. Cole wasn't going to be found innocent by a jury, even with Hughe using all his influence behind the scenes. Witness testimony was enough to convict a man. Cole was going to hang.

  If he wanted to save his neck and his life, he'd have to escape, but that meant never returning to this corner of Hampshire or to Coleclough Hall. He'd be running and hiding for the rest of his days.

  Avoiding Coleclough wouldn't be too difficult, since he'd been doing it for eleven years. Besides, the last place he wanted to be after Sutton Grange was his father's house. Too many demons there.

  As for leaving Hampshire, leaving Lucy, he would do it. He had to. He'd already set the foundation for it. All he had to do was to continue to build the wall higher. Lucy's future depended upon him having the strength to keep that wall as impenetrable as a fortress.

  CHAPTER 16

  Henry had wanted Lucy to rest after returning home, but she couldn't. She needed to be active, so she helped the cook bake some pies, after which she cleaned up. Or tried to—the maids shooed her out of the scullery before she could get her hands wet. Instead, sh
e went for a long walk with Brutus at her heels until the supper bell rang.

  Brutus left her when he saw his bowl full and she continued up to her rooms. She sat in the small study adjoining her bedchamber and tried to sew, but it was hopeless. Her stitching was terribly crooked. The walk may have tired her body but not her mind. She couldn't stop thinking.

  Matilda entered carrying supper on a tray. Brutus slipped in behind her and padded over to Lucy. He sat on her feet and put his head in her lap. For some reason, that made Lucy want to cry.

  "Leave the tray on the desk, thank you, Matilda. I don't feel very hungry just yet." She stroked Brutus's ears, and she could swear he smiled at her.

  Matilda set the tray down but didn't leave. "Can I get you something else, mistress?"

  "No, thank you."

  "Do you want the windows closed?"

  "Leave it open. The breeze is lovely."

  Matilda sighed. "You did too much today."

  Lucy simply shrugged in response.

  The maid sighed again. "I don't understand."

  Lucy didn't want to talk about it. Not with Henry, Matilda, or even Brutus. Talking about Nick made her think about him and recall his final words to her. Worse, it made her think about what lay ahead for him.

  She shivered.

  "You're cold. I'm shutting the window." Matilda crossed the room and pulled the casement window closed. "Poor pet," she said. "I can't believe it."

  "Thank you, Matilda," Lucy muttered.

  "The thing is, he seemed like a nice sort, a good man." Matilda shook her head. "I can't believe he's a killer. And to deceive you so, too." She clicked her tongue. "First yer cousins and now this. The farm is cursed."

  "It's not the farm, Matilda, don't think that. I'm determined to make Cowdrey a wonderful home for all of us. Anyway, Nick may have had a reason to kill that man. We shouldn't judge him."

  "If you say so, mistress, but he did deceive you and the master. We all thought he was a baron's son and that his intention was to… " She cleared her throat. "Well, we believed him to be honorable."

  "He is a baron's son."

  "Aye. Well. What about the other thing? How could a man who carved such a lovely thing be so cold hearted?"