There was something about the way the figure moved that was so startlingly familiar that he just couldn’t discount the stunning possibilities his common sense refused to consider. Willing the figure to look toward the main road, and him, once more, he watched and waited.
He knew he could disregard the wild possibility and go home, but something, some intrinsic need to know for certain, kept him still.
Cursing himself for a fool, he waited until the figure disappeared into the bakery before quickly dismounting, taking the reins in one hand as he tugged Brutus to the side of the road. He waited patiently for the insanity to stop. He knew the woman he loved could not possibly be purchasing bread in the village bakery. Isobel was dead, right?
It seemed to take a lifetime for the cloaked figure to re-appear. Dominic’s gaze locked on to the delicate curve of the pointed chin clearly visible in the shadows of the billowing cloak hood. Without further thought, he placed his not inconsiderable bulk directly in the path of the approaching figure, cursing himself for the worst kind of fool for having such ridiculous flights of fancy.
Within moments, he had his answer.
Isobel’s stunned blue eyes met and held his in shocked disbelief. Her gasp hung between them briefly, before disappearing into the cacophony of noise that seemed to return louder than ever before.
Dominic’s world rocked, and his heart soared as he stared into the features of the one person he had never thought to see again.
Isobel!
“Sweet mother of God,” he swore softly, his ravenous gaze sweeping over her beautiful features hungrily. He absorbed every new nuance and hollow in the delicately pale face that was so achingly familiar.
Isobel’s world swam around her as she stared up at Dominic’s handsome, tanned face with a strange mixture of loving dread. Despite everything, she knew in that instant that she still loved him, and undoubtedly always would.
The dark slashes of his thick brows emphasised the startling emerald green gaze that now pierced her with hungry intensity, causing her blood to hum crazily through her body.
Her solemn gaze met and held his tearfully. Standing perfectly still, she was stunned to discover that despite everything, she wished he would just slide his arms around her, and hold her. Just once more. Her heart thumped crazily in her chest, and she found herself unable to move as his hungry gaze roamed over her from head to foot.
“Isobel? Is it really you?” he made no attempt to hide the incredulous tone of his voice.
Isobel yearned to lean against his solid warmth. Unchecked tears trickled slowly down her pale features, as her wayward body cried out to him. If God should strike her down now, she would happily cross the gates of Heaven to spend her last moments with this man beside her.
She found herself unable to make a sound, and watched solemnly as his hand slowly rose to cup her cold cheek tenderly. The touch of his blunt fingers against her flesh snapped her out of her daze. Horror surged through her as the stark reality of her current predicament, and his marital status, came flooding back. She glanced up at him only for her heart to clench in fear as she caught sight of the horrifying figure of her uncle rapidly approaching.
“Isobel, darling!” Dominic got no further.
“Please help me,” Isobel whispered, her gaze frankly pleading as it met and held his. “If I ever meant anything to you at all, please help me.” She knew she was begging, but pride meant nothing to her against her current predicament.
With her uncle, and imminent capture, fast approaching, it was imperative Dominic understood her desperate situation, and help her. She couldn’t bear the thought of simply being handed over to her uncle; for the last gruelling weeks to be for nothing.
To be betrayed by Dominic would be the worst kind of defeat possible. Isobel didn’t think she could bear it. She desperately began to search for a way out.
Dominic’s breath locked in his chest at the sight of the sheer pleading on Isobel’s face. Frowning in consternation, the questions he wanted to ask her froze in his throat. Immediately he was caught by the sheer terror in her eyes as she glanced over his shoulder, warning him silently of the looming threat. He didn’t need to turn around to know who was there.
Ignoring the squat man, whose presence he could sense directly behind him, Dominic went against every protective instinct within him, and gave her the protection she so desperately needed, the only way he could.
“I gave you your duties this morning, lad,” he snapped impatiently. “What do you think you are doing undertaking errands for the Cook? Get back to the Hall this instant!” His voice was stern and brooked no argument. His eyes locked upon Isobel’s for an instant and he slowly winked, aware of her stunned surprise. He tried desperately to convey all the emotions current circumstances prevented him from voicing, pleading with her to trust him. Please darling, go!
He almost burst with frustration when she hesitated, her delicate brows puckered in confusion. Determined to protect her at all costs, he gave her a gentle shove toward the road, and away from the menacing threat of her uncle.
Without hesitation, she suddenly launched into action and disappeared into the milling throng on the main street. He hoped with all of his heart, that she had the wisdom to seek sanctuary at Havistock Hall.
It took every ounce of self control he possessed to turn toward the rotund little man now standing at his elbow, and glare nonchalantly at him. A dispassionate brow raised in contemptuous enquiry.
Inwardly, he wanted to beat the man to within an inch of his life. Drawing upon reserves he didn’t know he had, he stared coldly down at Isobel’s Uncle Rupert silently, smiling cynically as the little man shuffled uncomfortably beneath the penetrating stare.
“Good morning, my lord,” Rupert Davenport announced with a jovial smile that did little to reach his beady brown eyes. His ineffectual bow of politeness wasn’t returned.
“What do you want Davenport?” Dominic snapped impatiently, glancing toward the milling throng. “I don’t believe we are well enough acquaintances for you to approach me in the street.” He made no attempt to disguise the contempt in his voice, and felt a small measure of satisfaction in the squat little man’s uncomfortable shuffling as he tried to find a way around the awkward situation he was currently in, without losing face.
“I had heard you were dead, my lord.” Rupert Davenport replied, watching the heavily cloaked figure disappear into the bustling throng with interest. His attention was drawn back to the looming presence of the man beside him, as he snorted with derision.
“Sorry to disappoint you old man,” Dominic snarled with a disgusted glare. He shifted slightly towards the older man, drawing his attention away from Isobel. Smiling inwardly, he knew he had just given Isobel a chance of escaping the vile creature before him.
Luckily for Rupert Davenport, civility decreed it impolite to simply beat the man senseless there and then, and leave his carcass by the side of the road for the rats.
“How is Peter Davenport?”
Dominic wasn’t fooled by the conversational tone of the older man.
“I understand you are good friends with him. Is it true what the gossips are saying?”
Despite his hatred for the man, Dominic found himself intrigued. “What are the gossips saying?”
“Well, I understand Peter was murdered by some smugglers,” Rupert was unable to keep the hint of glee from his voice.
“Sorry to disappoint you old man,” Dominic felt a small surge of satisfaction at the angry colour that flooded the cheeks of the squalid man beside him. “But the last time I saw Peter, he was very much alive and well.”
“Oh, but-.”
Dominic coldly interrupted the older man’s blustering with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders that caused the florid faced little man to blush further.
“You know you really must get yourself better gossips, everyone you seem to know appears to be dead!” Dominic’s voice was liberally tinged with amusement. He didn’t bother to sa
y anything else, and casually mounted his horse. He paused only long enough for his cold and disinterested gazed to make the small man uncomfortable.
“It will take more than gossip to get me Rupert Davenport, you should know that,” his mocking voice hung between them for several moments. Dominic settled back in the saddle, watching the flash of anger the older man hadn’t been able to hide. “Never forget, the past will always come back to haunt you.” With that last aside, Dominic casually nudged his horse into a slow walk.
Without looking at the little man again, he guided his mount through the myriad of bustling bodies lining the main street, and headed toward home.
It took everything every ounce of self control he possessed not to dig his heels into his horse, and take off at a fast run after her. Enough time had elapsed to give Isobel ample opportunity to put distance between herself and Davenport; if only he knew where she was going.
While outwardly he appeared relaxed and at ease, Dominic carefully scanned every nook, alley and corner as he made his way out of town toward Havistock Hall.
Would Isobel have the good sense to go to his estate? He hoped she trusted him enough to seek sanctuary there. Surely, his actions in the village had proven he would protect her.
Still, he couldn’t forget the look of sheer terror that had suffused her beautiful features when she had seen Rupert approaching. Even with the ravages of life on the street clearly evident on her grimy face, her delicate beauty had still shone through.
Where the hell had she been? Moreover, why hadn’t she come to him sooner?
He had not gone far before he met with his groom, whom he had earlier dispatched to search for sign of Davenport in town.
“The carriage went to the White Horse on the outskirts of town. There’s another man. Short, stocky with a big mouth on ‘im.”
So Rupert was with Bertram DeLisle after all.
“Well that certainly makes my job easier,” Dominic replied, satisfaction lacing his voice. He nodded for Sanderson to draw alongside.
As they cleared the outskirts of town, Dominic nudged his horse into a faster walk, knowing the other man would keep up.
“Isobel is alive and here,” Dominic whispered softly, unable to keep the disbelief and elation out of his voice as Sanderson drew near.
Although he couldn’t see anyone nearby, he couldn’t risk being overheard. Ignoring his groom’s startled look, Dominic kept his gaze steadily forward, unwilling to show the man the depth of his emotion.
He swallowed hard against the lump lodged in his throat and paused to gather himself. “Davenport has somehow caught up with her as well, but I cannot be certain he saw through the disguise. It is imperative we find Isobel, and take her to Havistock without delay. Before Davenport gets her.”
He quickly described her appearance, each detail clearly enshrined in his memory.
“She headed this way, but I don’t know whether she would have the sense to head to Havistock. Keep a close eye out for her. It is imperative we find her.”
Their search didn’t last long.
“There!” Sanderson slowly reined his mount to a stop, nodding toward the brief flurry of movement deep in the woods, to the left of them. They were no more than a mile outside of town.
“I’ll go after her, she doesn’t know you, and might think you are with Davenport.” Dominic quickly dismounted, throwing his reins toward the older man. He didn’t add that he desperately needed to see for himself that it was indeed her, and not a cruel trick of his imagination. “Take Brutus through this tree line and through the gate at the far end. Wait for us there. Keep your eyes and ears peeled and make sure nobody has followed us,” he warned, jumping over the low slung stone wall and disappearing quickly into the woods without a backward glance
Isobel felt sick. She was unable to stop the trembling in her fingers. Once or twice along the way, she had shaken so badly that she had clumsily dropped her precious supply of bread into the dirt at her feet.
Her heart thumped heavily in her chest with a mixture of elation and fear. She made no attempt to swipe the tears on her cheeks away at the memory of Dominic’s shock, and apparent delight, at seeing her again. She couldn’t understand it. She must look such a fright, she mused considering the past few weeks of nothing but stream water with which to see to her ablutions.
Although she hadn’t been anywhere near a mirror for so long, she knew that she looked nothing like before. She was even dressed as a man, with her breasts tightly bound and her hair cut short. Her baggy clothing hid any remaining hint of her femininity, rendering her practically sexless to anyone who gave her a cursory glance. After several long weeks on the streets, her cheeks had hollowed, and her skin unfashionably bronzed.
How How had he known it was her?
As she stumbled blindly through the undergrowth she became aware of the flurry of movement behind her. A startled glance over her shoulder revealed nothing that she could see, but she distinctly heard twigs snapping, and the distinct sound of a heavy footfall of someone behind her. Heart thumping in her throat, she stopped and slowly turned. If she could summon the energy, she would have run, but all of her waning strength had finally been exhausted by the speed she had been forced to leave the bustling market town. She simply didn’t have the energy left for a flight through the uneven floor of the wooded copse she was in.
Unable to summon the energy to do anything else, she stood on trembling knees, silently watching and waiting for whomever was behind her to appear out of the gloom. Heart pounding, she reminded herself if she was to face death, then she would use every last ounce of strength she had left to keep them from taking her.
Despite her bravado, she stepped back with an instinctive cry of alarm when a tall dark figure emerged silently from the dense line of trees in front of her. Her knees buckled. Fear overwhelmed her, rendering her unable to do anything but emit a low cry of desolation as the dark figure swooped down upon her with menacing speed.
“Isobel,” Dominic whispered softly, rushing forward to sweep her into his arms before she hit the floor. Cursing, he nearly fell over himself when he lifted her clear of the ground with far too much ease. There was very little weight on her with which to struggle.
“Isobel, darling,” Dominic pulled her tightly against his chest, swamped with a depth of emotion that threatened to buckle his knees when she willingly slumped against him.
Carefully pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead, he groaned aloud and sank slowly to his knees, relishing the fact that she instinctively sought the comfort of his embrace.
Thin arms quickly stole around his neck, pulling her tighter against him as the reality of his presence sank in.
“Isobel, thank god it is you,” he was unable to fight the raw emotion that brought tears to his eyes.
“Dominic,” Isobel whispered, resting her head wearily upon the superfine wool of his cloak, giving way to the tears that choked her. The thick material did little to hide the solid band of muscle on his shoulder.
Although he belonged to another woman now, she desperately needed this stolen moment of his comforting embrace; the only comfort she had received for a very long time. Burying her face in the warmth of his neck, she breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of soap and something quintessentially Dominic.
“Isobel, darling,” Dominic’s warm breath swept gently across her cheek. His fist tightened in her hair, holding her against him tightly while they both succumbed to the emotions tumbling over them.
Several long minutes later, Isobel reluctantly loosened her hold on him and eased backwards to lie cradled in his wonderfully strong arms. Her tear stained gaze locked with his and she watched him draw closer.
His lips were warm and soft as they swept over hers before she could speak. Once, twice they almost trembled as they brushed backward and forward with increasing pressure for several moments before eventually settling more firmly upon hers, his tongue probing deeper, demanding her compliance; seeking confirmation of her
survival, and accepting nothing less than her absolute surrender.
His hand shook as his palm tenderly cupped her cheek to angle her head backward, allowing him to deepen the kiss.
Isobel’s heart thumped heavily beneath her breast as her mouth instinctively opened to his demand. Whatever he had done in the past, in that moment she could deny him nothing. Her fingers tangled in the soft curls of hair at the nape of his neck, and she hungrily pulled his head closer. Eyes closed, she gave herself over to the wondrous sensation of his demanding kiss, and the solid comfort of his warm embrace.
His firm lips plundered hers, seeking to brand her as his. The hot spear of his tongue probed and plundered the moist recesses of her mouth, demanding her acceptance of his possession.
Somewhere off in the distance, a strange whistle floated hauntingly through the air. Almost imperceptible in the darkening gloom, it had a profound and immediate effect upon Dominic who immediately released her lips.
His breath came in short pants, as his hard gaze scanned the woodland surrounding them. The harsh lines of his passion flushed face suddenly held a ruthless danger that made her shiver warily. All vestiges of passion immediately vanished, leaving his eyes hard with glacial menace; to such an extent that Isobel wondered if she had imagined the forbidden passion of the previous few moments.
“Dominic?” Isobel queried, only to find his finger resting upon her lips.
Silently, he shook his head motioning for her to be quiet before he slowly eased them both to their feet.
Unfortunately, while Isobel had been lying wantonly in his arms, her body had also succumbed to lying upon the damp, cold earth in nothing but inadequately thin clothing. When he moved away from her, taking his warmth with him, she immediately shivered as cold threatened her already tenuous hold on life. Her legs buckled beneath her meagre weight and she would have fallen to the floor if it hadn’t been for Dominic, who quickly swept her off her feet, and carried through the darkness.
Astounded at the speed of change in the past few moments, Isobel watched him. She was unable to tear her gaze from the outline of Dominic’s chiselled features, and the stern ticking in his jaw. Bathed in shadows, his eyes were carefully scanning the area before them. She could feel the fine tension in his frame warning her that he was alert and on guard.
If You Were Mine Page 4