“Come in.”
Harry pushed the door open. He was in stockinged feet, and his shirt was pulled out over his breeches. His hair was mussed, he had a growth of beard, and he had not bothered with a neck cloth. Neal’s first thought was that he was foxed. His skin was pale and his eyes sunken, always signs of the worst.
“I’m cold, stone sober, if that is what you are wondering,” Harry said, wandering into the room.
“That’s good,” Neal murmured.
“Aye, good. I don’t feel good. I feel ill.” He held out his hand. It was shaking. “But I had to be sober to talk to you.”
Neal found himself impatient. He was more interested in locating his wife than talking with his errant brother. “What do you have to say?” he asked, letting his annoyance show.
“Thea is gone. She’s taken her sons with her.”
Now he had Neal’s attention.
“I don’t understand,” Neal said with disbelief. “She wouldn’t leave.” He started toward the door, wanting to see Jonathan and Christopher.
Harry stood his ground, not letting him pass. “Sit down, brother,” he said. “I want to tell you a story about love.”
Chapter Sixteen
Thea took the mail coach as far as it would go. When at last she stopped, she and her sons found themselves on the Cornish coast, far removed from life in London.
Here, she let a small cottage overlooking the sea. It was a lonely place, and it fit her mood.
Her sons were furious with her.
They felt betrayed, and she didn’t blame them.
When she’d taken them from their tutor, she’d told them they were going on a holiday and that Lyon would join them shortly. With that terrible lie, she’d purchased their cooperation.
For a week after they moved into the cottage, Jonathan and Christopher kept an eye out on the road for any sign of Lyon. They talked about their ponies and their schooling. They had plans, plans Thea had interrupted.
After the second week, they stopped speaking of those things. They grew distrustful of her and querulous with each other.
Finally, Jonathan confronted her. “We are going back, aren’t we? Or is this like it was with Father? He just left and we didn’t see him again.”
Thea wasn’t feeling too good. She always had difficulty with the first weeks of her pregnancy, and this time was no different. “No, Jonny, we are not going back.”
“Did Lyon send us away?” her son demanded.
She shook her head. She knew that with the right words she could make them think Neal had played a hand in their leaving. Then she wouldn’t be portrayed so black. However, she found she could not do that to them. They needed some of the truth.
“We had to leave,” she said sadly. “I didn’t want to go, and Lyon would not want us to go.”
“Then let’s go back,” Jonathan said.
“We can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Someday I can tell you. Not now.”
Her oldest was not pleased with the answer. He stomped off and didn’t speak to her for days. Christopher acted as their intermediary, but he was not happy with his mother as well and often cried himself to sleep. He started sucking his thumb again, a habit she deplored and something he hadn’t done in years.
She was also lonely. Neal was her friend as well as her lover. She missed him to the point it physically hurt to be without him.
But she hadn’t had the dream.
If she had, she would have gone running back to London as quickly as she’d been able. However, the lack of the dream gave her hope that her plan would work.
Still, it was a lonely life.
Autumn came more rapidly on the coast. The wind off the sea grew colder. Thea had enough money to last them a long time. There wouldn’t be extras, but they would not lack for what was important.
And all the time, the baby within her grew.
On an October morning, Jonathan gave a shout that a visitor was riding down the road toward their cottage. They didn’t have visitors. Thea kept to herself and rarely ventured into the local village unless she had to do so.
She went out into the cottage garden. A rider was at the top of the hill above the house and starting his way down. She recognized him immediately.
Neal had found her.
“Boys, come into the house,” Thea ordered.
Christopher hurried to her, but Jonathan charged toward the dirt path in front of the house. “I know him,” Jonathan said. “I know that man.” He began running up the road. “It’s Lyon,” he shouted. “Lyon has come.”
Christopher tried to take off after him, with a happy “Lyon.”
Thea grabbed his arm, wanting to hold him, but her youngest defied her, twisting his way free and chasing after his brother. Thea watched in helpless wonder as her children jumped and danced as they welcomed Neal.
She didn’t know what to do. Her belly was not showing that much. Perhaps she could bluff her way into making him think she wanted nothing to do with him. But first she had to control her own wild emotions at realizing that he was here. He had come for her, and she realized she’d been waiting for him.
Thea escaped into the cottage. It had a wood floor and was decorated in a comfortable, homey style—yet she could not wait to leave it. She grabbed hold of a chair and clutched it with all she had. She had to be brave. She had to convince Neal that she had left him because she did not love him. Even if she went back with him, she could not let him love her.
She heard his voice out in the yard. The tone of it reverberated through her being. Her sons were speaking over each other in their enthusiasm to share how much they’d missed him. She took a step toward the window to look outside. He was holding them both in his arms and hugging them as if he would never let them go.
How many times when she’d been married to Boyd had she longed for her sons to know this exact sort of commitment and love from a father? And here it was.
Was she willing to take this away from them?
Neal saw her watching them. He stood. He looked very handsome in an open greatcoat over his riding clothes and tall boots. His hair was longer than it had been, and his whiskers were almost as rough as Harry’s.
Neal said something to her sons. They looked in the direction of the cottage and then took the reins of his horse. Neal started walking toward the door.
Thea wanted to run. She thought about charging into the back room and hiding, but there was no lock to stop him.
No, Neal had found her and the least she could do was face him.
A step sounded on the floor behind her. She could feel his presence, feel the bond that was between them. The bond she had to deny.
She turned, not knowing what to expect. He should be angry with her. Furious.
Instead, she discovered an expression of such compassion on her husband’s face that she could have wept.
“I don’t deserve you,” she said.
“I think differently.” His voice was harsh with pent-up emotion, emotion she could feel as clearly as if it had been her own.
“We can’t, Neal. We mustn’t. I can’t let you love me.”
“It is too late,” he said. “I already do.”
His words were a knife to her heart. “No, no, the witch will win. I’ve had the dreams, Neal. I’ve had the dreams.”
Neal was in front of her in a thrice. She started to turn away, but he put strong arms around her, holding her fast. “Now, listen to me. Fenella will never win. Do you understand? She won’t.”
Thea shook her head. “You are safe only if we are apart. We must not be together.”
“I can’t live without you,” he said. “Do you hear me? I love you, Thea. I love you.” He shouted the words, and his voice rang in the rafters. “I will not run from love.”
“But it wi
ll mean your death.” Thea reached up and placed her hands around his neck. He felt so good and solid to her. “I don’t want to lose you, Neal. I am so afraid.”
He hugged her tight. He smelled of the sea air and horses. “Don’t be afraid, my love,” he whispered. “I’m not. Of course, I’ve spent a good portion of my life avoiding love. But having you and the boys has made me realize that living without the family I love is worse than death.” He drew back to look her in the eye. “Thea, none of us knows how much time we have on this earth. Whatever happens, I don’t want to feel as if I’ve wasted the time I’ve had. I need you, Thea. You are my mate, my companion, my love, my wife.”
“But can my love save you?”
“No, it does something better—it makes my life meaningful. Before you, I had nothing. Now, having you in my arms, I know I’m the richest of men.”
She kissed him then. She kissed him with all the love in her being, and he kissed her back.
“Does this mean we are going back with Lyon?” Jonathan’s voice said from the door.
Thea and Neal turned to see Jonathan, Christopher and the horse’s head in the doorway.
Neal looked to Thea. “Does it?” he asked with a smile that said he knew the answer.
“Yes,” Thea said. “Yes, we are.”
It didn’t take long to pack up their few belongings. Thea left a note to the owner of the cottage and shut the door.
Neal, with Jonathan riding in front of him, had ridden into the village in search of a vehicle for them to use for their trip. They managed to locate a coach for hire from a posting inn. It was an ancient conveyance that smelled musty inside. Thea took one whiff and felt violently ill.
“What is the matter?” Neal asked as she hurried around to the back of the cottage.
“She does that from time to time,” she heard Jonathan assure him.
“Every morning,” she heard Christopher chime in. “She doesn’t feel good in her tummy, but then she is all right.”
Thea knew by the time she came from the back of the cottage that Neal had guessed her secret. He took her aside.
“When were you going to tell me?” he said.
She found it hard to meet his eye. She placed a hand on his chest, right over where his heart was. “Soon. I knew I was carrying our baby when I left London.”
“Is that why you left?”
“I left to save you.”
He gathered her close. The wool of his greatcoat was soft against her cheek. “Don’t save me, Thea. I don’t want to be saved.”
“I was saving the baby as well. I’m afraid for him, Neal. What will become of him?”
“He will be like me. He will grow up to be the best man I hope he can be, and to live his life fully.” He pressed a kiss against the top of her head. How she had missed his closeness. “He will manage, Thea.”
A calmness settled over her. An acceptance. Neal was right. Fear was not the answer. Love was. Love, love, love.
Her being was filled with it. She hugged her husband back. He smiled, took her hand and led her to the coach.
He opened the door. “After you, my lady.”
Jonathan and Christopher were by his side, and they echoed his words with small bows. Thea laughed. Her sons climbed into the coach behind her. Neal gave orders to the postboy, checked to see that his own horse was securely tethered to the coach, and off they went, the windows on both sides of the coach completely open.
That night, the boys sound asleep in an adjoining room at the inn, Thea and Neal made love.
It felt good to be touched.
It felt good to touch.
He knew what she liked and he quickly brought her to arousal. Together they found the magic that always sealed the bond of their love.
Afterward, lying in his arms, Thea asked, “How can you forgive me so easily? I would have thought you’d be furious with me.”
“Harry,” he said.
“Harry what?” Thea asked, coming up on one elbow to look down at her husband. “When I last saw him, he was not well.”
He reached up and stroked her hair away from her face, and then with his fingers followed the line of her shoulder and down around her breast before dropping his hand and answering, “Harry is your strongest ally now. Margaret is your second strongest. They both wanted me to bring you home.”
She frowned. “Even Margaret? Harry put up a protest, but Margaret understood what I was doing.”
“I explained my feelings to them, the way I did to you. They worry for me. They are not pleased at the implications, but they have no choice but to accept them.”
“I pray we have long lives,” Thea said.
“I do as well,” he answered, pulling her closer. “But the love I have for you, Thea, will last forever. The heart is a shield, my love, and mine will keep us safe forever.”
Thea hadn’t ever believed life could be so easy or so good.
Their homecoming to London was everything she could have wished. Margaret hugged her, and even Harry acted happy, although Thea believed him more pleased to see her sons.
Harry was still the same. He drank heavily, womanized, and twice a month disappeared for a day or two. But Thea couldn’t concern herself with his vices. She wanted to enjoy every moment she had with Neal. Daily, she prayed to God that they would escape the curse, and the prayers seemed to work. Neal was healthy.
Margaret and Thea became fast friends. They spent at least an hour each day in needlework. Mirabel often joined them, although she disdained plying a needle. She was most upset that Thea had taken off without a word to her, but one word of the baby and Mirabel freely forgave the transgression. Margaret had decided that she would embroider the baby’s christening gown and it would be a garment that would be the envy of all who saw it.
Jonathan seemed to like Westminster very much, but Thea would often catch him talking earnestly to Neal. She wondered what they said, but she didn’t pry. Instead, she was thankful for Neal’s listening ear.
The dreams began.
Only this time was different.
Before, she and Neal had kept silent. Now they discussed those nightmares and kept a journal on them. In the sharing of their dreams, they searched for clues that might help them defeat the curse. They each had many dreams when they first reunited, but the frequency seemed to slow, and they took that as a good sign.
Perhaps they could beat the curse with prayer and bravery. Certainly her love for Neal had helped defeat her fear.
In fact, even Harry and Margaret began to lose their own anxiousness about the curse. The atmosphere in the house grew more cohesive, warm and nurturing. Every day was busy and fulfilling.
In mid-November, there was an evening drive of open vehicles through Hyde Park. The boys had been looking forward to participating, and Neal and Thea had thought it would be an enjoyable outing, since many of their friends’ families would be there.
They all bundled up against the chilled air and piled into Neal’s open curricle. Soon they were part of a moonlit procession, one that was almost wheel-to-wheel.
Neal drove the vehicle, but he let both Christopher and Jonathan have a turn at the reins. With a wool lap blanket wrapped around her legs and hot bricks at her feet, Thea enjoyed watching her sons learn how to drive.
In preparation for the drive, her husband had given her a blue velvet cape lined in fur, with a matching muff. It was very stylish, and she quite enjoyed showing it off. Soon she would retire from social occasions until her child was born, but tonight, she delighted in the fresh night air and the company of so many people enjoying the same.
Thea spied Mirabel in another vehicle and gaily waved at her.
Even more interesting, she caught sight of her brother Horace and his wife. Since Thea had married, her path had not crossed his until this night. Horace was staring right at her, a huge sco
wl on his face—and Thea discovered she had no animosity toward him. Whatever grievances she’d once had over what she’d felt her brother should or should not have done had disappeared, vanquished by the happiness in her life.
Thea blew an air kiss at him, and he looked away. Instead of being offended, Thea laughed.
“Who is that, Mother?” Jonathan asked.
“Someone I used to know,” she answered. “But Lady Palmer is over there.” She indicated Mirabel’s direction, and he shouted for her attention, rising as he did so, that she might see him better.
However, at that moment, the horses pulling their curricle started to bolt. They bumped into the vehicle ahead of them and panicked in the way horses did sometimes.
Jonathan toppled forward and would have tumbled out of the curricle except for Thea’s reaching out and grabbing his coat in time. “Neal,” she said to warn him something was wrong, but her husband had his hands full with the horses. With a start, she realized that half the reins had dropped to the ground.
Neal leaned over the front of the curricle, reaching for the reins before something worse happened. Thea noticed that he only used his right hand, which was still holding the right reins. He kept his left hand tucked into his side.
He snatched up the loose reins and quickly brought the animals back under control.
Christopher grabbed Thea’s arm, his eyes wide. She still had her arms full of Jonathan, and she didn’t think she’d ever let him go.
If he’d fallen to the ground, he could have been hurt in the fall or found himself kicked by the horses.
“Don’t be afraid,” Thea said soothingly. “Everything is all right. Lyon has the horses under control.” She couldn’t help but add, “In the future, Christopher, you must be careful to always hold the reins tightly.” She assumed her youngest had been driving, since he’d been on Neal’s lap.
“I didn’t have the reins,” Christopher said. “Lyon had them.”
“You dropped them,” Thea asserted, keeping her voice low.
“No, Mother. Lyon dropped them.”
Thea frowned, then shrugged it off. The horses were under control, and that was all that mattered.
Lyon's Bride: The Chattan Curse Page 22