03 - Dreams of Destiny

by May McGoldrick

  When his breathing slowed, he touched the soft ringlets that lay across his lips. It had been no dream. The scent of love hung in the air. A cold feeling washed through him, though, the hackles on his neck stood up. Never had he known a country wench to make love like this.

  Her lips were touching his throat when he heard her murmur something low.

  “What’d you say?” he asked, hearing the words slur off his tongue.

  “I said…thank you, Walter.”

  In his rush to get clear of her, they both rolled off the bed and onto the hard floor. He tried to extricate himself, and she laughed aloud at his clumsiness.

  “How…?” He shoved her away hard, suddenly feeling sick. “What…?”

  “I told you years ago that you shall always be the first.” Emma stood up and stretched languidly.

  “First? Why, you bloody whore. You’re married to Lyon. I cannot…I don’t understand!”

  “You shall be the father of my first child,” she said, casually gathering the clothes she’d thrown on the floor.

  “NO!” he shouted, pushing himself unsteadily to his feet.

  His head was spinning. Walter managed to stagger forward and grabbed her roughly by the shoulders, forcing Emma to facm.

  “NO!” he shouted again into her face. “No, this cannot be. Do you hear me?”

  She shrugged off his touch and backed away. “Whatever you wish.”

  He grabbed her arm again. “This did not happen. You were not here.”

  “But I was.”

  “Emma,” he pleaded. “No one can know about this. You cannot tell Lyon. By the devil, you cannot pit the two of us against each other. I’ll kill you first.”

  She ran a hand softly down the side of his face. Her touch was surprisingly soft, the look in her eyes impenetrable.

  Walter felt like crying. “Why are you doing this? Why in bloody hell are you here?”

  “I was at the kirkyard today. At Sir William’s funeral. I kept my distance so that you would not see me.”

  He looked at her, his ale-muddled brain unable to comprehend her answer. She freed herself of his grasp and pulled the dress carelessly over her head. Walter silently watched her as the words sank in.

  “Why would you care to come?”

  She draped the rest of her clothing over one arm and picked up her shoes. The room tilted as she walked toward the door.

  “Why, Emma?” Walter asked again as she pulled the door open.

  She looked over her shoulder at him. The cold breeze from the hallway stirred the embers of the fire, casting a reddish glow on her face.

  “I had to come. This was my last chance to meet him.”

  He tried to focus on a tear glistening on her cheek.

  “Augusta let me in on the secret. I found her in her sitting room, drinking Madera from the bottle.” She turned her face a little. “She received word, too, that your father was dead. ‘Twas about time that she finally revealed to me that Sir William Truscott was my father, do you not agree?”

  Walter felt the room begin to whirl again, and he put his hand against the wall to steady himself.

  “I am sorry, Walter. Everything makes sense to me now. I finally understand why ‘twas that you have always mattered so much to me…why I always needed you to be first in everything in my life. We are bound to each other…in more ways than one.” She closed the door and left.

  Walter stared at the door for a long moment, then bent over and threw up.

  CHAPTER 20

  The family was in the middle of a late supper when Mr. Campbell, Baronsford’s steward, came in and discreetly advised David that the caretaker from Greenbrae Hall was waiting in the courtyard. He was carryg an urgent message. David strode quickly to the courtyard, where Robert immediately assured him that Miss Gwyneth was in the same state of health as Captain Pennington had left her in the early afternoon.

  “She sent me to ask ye not to come to the Hall tonight, though, sir,” the man said quietly. “She wants ye to know that Lady Cavers and her friend Sir Allan Ardmore arrived this afternoon, and judging from her ladyship’s mood, Miss Gwyneth thought ‘twould be best if ye avoided meeting her until ye had a chance to speak to Miss Gwyneth first.”

  “When can I see her?”

  “She thought early morning would be best, as Lady Cavers is not overall fond of getting up early, especially after traveling,” Robert said. “If possible, Miss Gwyneth wishes to meet ye by the loch in the deer park. ‘Tis an easy walk from the stables at Greenbrae Hall.”

  “Did she say what time?”

  David listened to the rest of specifics of what Gwyneth had told the caretaker to relay, all the while fighting his inclination to drive over there right now and make his intentions known to Augusta.

  For the sake of Gwyneth’s peace of mind, though, he needed to do things properly, David told himself. “Please tell Miss Gwyneth that I shall be waiting for her.”

  As David watched Robert disappear toward the stables, his mind was already racing with everything that needed to be done. Gwyneth had not said yes to his offer of marriage, but he was determined to answer whatever hesitation she might of have left. At the same time, he’d already taken the dowager’s suggestion and sent a letter to Sir Richard Maitland, their family lawyer, to make whatever arrangements were necessary with the attorneys of the late Lord Cavers.

  Because of her ill will toward the Penningtons, Augusta was probably the greatest stumbling block to this marriage. But the good news was, according to what he understood from Lyon and from Gwyneth herself, Lady Cavers had no real say in the matter, as Lord Cavers had made sure that she was not named as guardian to Gwyneth, instead leaving decisions for the young woman’s future in the hands of his lawyers.

  “So Lady Cavers has returned.”

  David turned around as Truscott stepped out of the house and walked toward him.

  “Unfortunately. And her arrival has apparently curtailed my visits at Greenbrae Hall.”

  “And the same goes for me,” Truscott admitted quietly.

  “We should have abducted both women and carried them back here to Baronsford when we had the chance.”

  “It may not be too late. If you decide to go through with it, I’ll be there with you.”

  “I believe Gwyneth would not be so agreeable, should we try,” David said with a smile, remembering the time he’d caught her jumping out of the window of the inn on the journey north. “In fact, I believe my ability to produce offspring would be seriously endangered.”

  “I’m sure I do not know what Violet would do.”

  The look on Walter’s faas unlike any David had ever seen in his cousin. Such open interest had never been evident with any other woman.

  “You are quite fond of this Violet.”

  “I am,” Walter admitted frankly. “She is unlike anyone I have ever known.”

  “You’ve not known her long.” He said it not as an objection, but only as an observation.

  Truscott gave an indifferent shrug. “Something about her spoke to me the first moment I laid eyes on her. And ‘twas not only the way the lass looks. There was something much deeper. ’Twas as if I could feel her pain.” He stared up at the red tentacles of sunset streaking across the sky. “Already I know when I am with her, I am a better man. ‘Tis as if I am the only one who can slay her dragons. Help her…even as she helps me.”

  “She has a past that you know nothing about.”

  “And she knows nothing about me, either.” Truscott nodded and started off toward the stables.

  ***

  Gwyneth didn’t light any candles in her room when darkness descended. The excuse she’d asked Violet to pass on to Sir Allan was that she was just too tired tonight for any more company and she was taking the doctor’s suggestion and staying in bed. She would be happy to meet with him tomorrow, she’d said.

  Still, as Gwyneth paced the darkened room, sleep was the farthest thing from her mind. Robert had been sent off to Baronsford w
ith a message for David a couple of hours ago, and Gwyneth had already asked Violet to go down to the stables to await his return.

  As possible as marriage to Sir Allan seemed to her before she’d run into David in London, it was detestable now. She would gladly face open scandal and forfeit her fortune rather than commit herself to a life with someone she felt nothing for.

  And then there was David and everything that she felt for him. It was foolish that Gwyneth had waited to admit her feelings until such time that their relationship was seriously jeopardized. Well, better now than never, she told herself.

  She loved him. He was the only man she had ever dreamed of spending the rest of her life with. And now, finally, her eyes and ears were open. He wanted her, and all she had to do was reach out and take his hand.

  David would help her through this. Gwyneth knew he would. Before they met tomorrow, though, she needed to think of a way to tell him everything. She also needed to be prepared to face his disapproval of her writing, as such a profession could only be considered unacceptable and scandalous to someone of his station in life. He’d all but said so in the carriage from London.

  Gwyneth thought of the approval that he was seeking from his own family, and his efforts to solve the mystery surrounding Emma’s death. That was an area where she could possibly help him. They were few secrets about Emma that Gwyneth had never revealed to him—the pregnancy, the lovers she kept. She also recalled the correspondences that Emma used to be so fond of. Gwyneth wondered if any of them were still in Emma’s sitting room.

  There was only one o get that answer.

  Gwyneth crossed her bedroom and pressed an ear to the door. From what she’d been told, the baronet had been placed in one of the guest bedrooms in this wing. Augusta’s suite of rooms was in the same wing as Emma’s. There were no sounds coming from the corridor outside. She peeked into the semi-darkness of the hallway and slipped out.

  She ran into no one and was already past her aunt’s door when she heard the voices in the distance. Augusta’s voice was pronounced. Gwyneth disappeared inside Emma’s rooms, though, before anyone could see her.

  *****

  Baronsford slept, but David was too caught up in the tale he was reading to pay any attention to the passage of time.

  A woman wrapped in the cloak of mystery and given the charge of saving the future of a nation. A warrior bewildered by the secrecy surrounding the woman and yet still falling in love.

  The action and adventure captured on the pages was thrilling, the romance between the two was explosive. As good as it was, David found that it was the voice in his head that was forcing him to turn the pages. There were moments when he thought he was losing his mind. It was if he were not reading the story, but as if he were being read to…by Gwyneth. The expressions on the pages were hers. The speeches were, at times, exactly what he could imagine only her saying. The descriptions of various people were too similar to the faces that he had seen around Greenbrae Hall or in the village or at Baronsford itself. And the way the story unfolded was very much like the tales she used to tell him when she’d been much younger.

  Still, it couldn’t be. At least a dozen times, David had gone back and stared at the title pages. No author’s name.

  It couldn’t be her, though. Gwyneth would have no need to do this—she would have no means of accomplishing it. David remembered the hours she spent writing in her journals, though. The time she spent on it still. The idea of someone stealing her work and making profit from it occurred to him, angering him momentarily. He dismissed the thought immediately, for he had found these books in her room. She had to know about it. And there had been other volumes there, too.

  Bits and pieces of the conversation he and Gwyneth had during their journey north slipped into his mind. His mockery of the hours she spent in solitude writing in her journals came back to him. He recalled Gwyneth’s claim that she would never be helpless.

  She’d hinted to him then about publishing her work!

  David looked up from the open page and stared into the dark shadows of the library. Despite her obvious talent, the volume in his hand would be considered scandalous to the Edinburgh lawyers left in charge of her future. David wondered if she had considered the extent of the disaster she could be inflicting on herself in publishing her work.

  *****

  The countryside was hidden beneath a thick blanket of fog when Gwyneth escaped the house through one of the servant’s entrances and ran toward the deer park. With the exception of a few grooms and stable lads beginning their work at the stable. Gwyfog hid anyone else from view who might be out at such an early hour.

  Gwyneth had taken a couple of boxes of letters and diaries from Emma’s room back to her own bedroom. There, she had spent most of the night scanning through them. With the exception of some newspaper announcements and a large number of invitations by anyone who was of any note among London’s ton, nothing useful had turned up. The letters had given her no information at all. What Gwyneth had gone through, however, was only a sampling of what she saw stored in Emma’s chambers. Gwyneth had hoped that her discovery of the letters would prove significant in David’s eyes. She wanted some good news to soften everything else that she was ready to reveal.

  A misting rain began to fall as Gwyneth hurried down the hill and entered the deer park. The visibility was poor, but this was her home. She knew every rock, every tree, every turn on the path. She pulled the wrap she had around her shoulders up over her head and tried without success to avoid the puddles of mud as she hurried along.

  She was not far from the loch when a rustling of the leaves to her left startled her. A large shadow passed in the fog beyond a stand of trees, and Gwyneth stopped dead, staring into the murkiness of the forest. The drenched silhouettes of low pines were the only things that she could see. She adjusted the scarf over her head and decided a doe moving toward the loch had been her companion.

  A branch cracked on her right. She whirled, looking in that direction. Again, there was nothing. Only the falling drops of the rain and the thick fog. Gwyneth couldn’t calm the mad beating of her heart. The familiar had become suddenly frightening. The safety she’d felt moments ago was now gone. Panic was nearly paralyzing her. There was no reasoning with what her senses were suddenly attuned to—danger seemed to be all around her. She turned in a circle, looking in every direction, trying to see through the mists.

  “Is anyone out there?” she called out softly.

  There was no answer. She could see nothing. The fog and the woods around her had cut her off from Greenbrae Hall and the stables. She turned around at the sound of another footstep to her left. Another to her right. Someone was moving closer. More than one.

  She stood still, but there was no sound. Gwyneth felt the hairs stand up on the back of her neck as a chill swept through her.

  “David?” she shouted out in panic

  From behind a tree, a stranger stepped out. He was wearing boots and a dark coat. She turned as another appeared behind her, and then another on her from her right. Gwyneth glanced around quickly in panic. She didn’t know where these men had come from—or what they wanted from her.

  “David!” she cried out again. As she saw the men start for her, she started to run. There were low curses behind her. Following the path, she quickly realized she was still heading for the loch.

  She heard her name an instant before running into a pair of strong arms.

  “What is wrong?” David asked. “You are shivering.”

  “They are after me. Three men.” She clutched his hand and turned around. The mist had enveloped them again, but the men had disappeared. The soft dripping of the rain from the trees was the only noise.

  “Three men?” David asked, peering into the fog.

  “Never mind them.” She shook her head, tugging at his hand and pulling him toward the loch. “Take me away from here. We need to talk. Please…where is your horse?”

  “I left him at the water’s edge. Di
d you see who was following you?” he asked, following the direction of her gaze.

  She felt his tenseness. It was three of them, and David was not armed.

  “I’ll explain later,” she said quietly, tugging on his arm as the rain began to fall harder, drenching them in a moment.

  He was reluctant, but after another look back, he allowed her to lead the way. “I shall take you to Baronsford.”

  “No, I cannot. ‘Twill take us too long to go there and back,” she whispered, still unable to overcome her uneasiness. She was relieved, though, when they reached David’s horse at the edge of the woods by the loch. “My aunt will be looking for me as soon as she is up and about. I…we just need somewhere private and out of the rain.”

  “Well, Truscott’s tower house is not far. I do not think he’ll mind us going there. I think he’s given up on his dream of living there someday. I do not know if anyone has even stepped inside the place in years.”

  Gwyneth nodded. David helped her onto the horse and climbed up behind her. She nestled against the warmth of his chest, keeping her gaze on the woods they’d just left.

  “You are still shivering,” he whispered against her ear, gathering Gwyneth more tightly against his chest as he spurred the horse along the shore of the loch. “What happened back there?”

  “Nothing happened, thank heaven. But I saw three men. I didn’t know who they were. They just appeared out of the fog. It might have been my imagination.”

  “Did they say anything? Did they approach you?”

  She shook her head again. “It may have been nothing. I feel safe now.”

  He pressed a kiss into her hair, and Gwyneth wished that she was brave enough to ask him to elope with her. Right now. This was what she wanted. This was the man. She would forfeit everything she had for him. Never go back. A future just with him.