by Laura Landon
She clasped her hands to her flushed cheeks. “I’m sorry. I must have—”
“You lost consciousness.”
She shook her head. “I don’t—”
“You did.” Austin wanted her to realize she was vulnerable. “You fainted because you were exhausted. Because you went without sleep longer than your body could stand. And without food. Your body was telling you it was tired of being pushed so hard.” He wanted her to know she couldn’t manage on her own. But more importantly, he wanted her to realize she could trust him. Wanted her to understand that he could have taken the baby while she slept, but didn’t. “Would you like to go back to sleep or do you want something to eat first?” He cast a glance at a small table that held a tray of food. “Mrs. Pollock brought up some warm milk for Jonathan and a tray for you before she went to bed. If you eat now it might still be warm.”
“I’m not—”
“Yes, you are. Maude said she didn’t think you’d eaten all day.”
“I wasn’t—”
“My guess,” Austin said, interrupting her again, “is that you were probably hungry, but didn’t want to leave this room because you didn’t want to risk being seen.”
Her eyes narrowed. He saw her anger and enjoyed the fact that he could rile her.
She rose from the bed and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. Her gaze focused on him as if he was the target at the end of her rifle barrel and before she fired she wanted to make sure her aim was accurate.
“Are you always so argumentative?”
“Argumentative?” He feigned a look of surprise. “None of my friends or acquaintances has accused me of being so.”
“That’s because I doubt you have any friends. And your acquaintances are undoubtedly afraid to tell you your faults.”
He placed a sad expression on his face. “What a low opinion you have of me, my lady.”
“A well-deserved opinion, I’m sure.”
“I can’t imagine what I’ve done to earn such disparaging remarks.”
She took a step toward him. “Would you like me to explain?”
“By all means, yes. That would be ever so helpful when I meet my next acquaintance. But first, perhaps little Jonathan would like to have something dry on his bottom.”
Her gaze darted to the babe in his arms and her face paled. “Oh.” She rushed over and lifted the babe.
Austin watched with fascination as she carried the wet babe across the room and placed him on a blanket spread atop a small table. The second she released him, his arms and legs kicked as if he was a four-legged fish paddling in water.
She removed his wet clothes and covered him with a dry cloth, then tied it shut. She talked to the babe while she worked, smiling, and laughing, and gently blowing noisy kisses against his skin. He laughed with excitement.
Austin didn’t doubt that this was an age-long ritual that all mothers instinctively knew to do because he’d seen Liddy behave the same with little Rachel. There was a special connection mothers developed early on with their babes, a connection that excluded fathers.
A strange feeling settled over him, one he didn’t like to admit to—an emptiness that ached to be filled.
For several long moments he evaluated this strange sensation, then brushed it away as if it were an unwanted piece of lint. What was there about watching her that made him pine for things he’d never considered before? What was there about her that caused him to consider how hollow his life would be without someone to love?
He needed to deliver the woman and her son to the Earl of Penderly, and the sooner the better. He didn’t like the emotions being with them brought to the forefront. He didn’t like imagining what it might be like to have a woman in his life one day. Or children. Not when he knew there never would be. He was entirely too bleak a soul to sustain either.
He rose from the chair and walked to the window. The sun was peeking above the horizon now and there was a stirring of activity outside.
He scanned the area below, looking for anything that seemed out of the ordinary, but there was nothing. Two men wearing ordinary clothes walked into the Spotted Goose. From the look of them, they were on their way to the fields. Another man came from the stable, and a young lad came from the shed behind the inn. His arms were laden with chopped wood and he entered a side door that led to the kitchen.
Such an ordinary setting. One he suddenly missed.
He braced his outstretched arm against the window frame and willed the regrets away. Her voice brought him back to the present.
“What’s going to happen now?” she asked.
Her tone contained a wariness he regretted she felt with him, but he wasn’t surprised. Intimidation was a trait he’d developed to perfection.
He turned.
The babe wore fresh nappies and played on a large blanket near the warmth of the fire with the same rag toy he’d played with when they were in London. It seemed to be one of the babe’s favorites. He chewed on the bit of rag and kicked his feet, taking advantage of his new-found freedom and uttering indistinguishable noises Austin regretted no adult could understand.
He turned back to her. “Sit down.” He pointed to the chair where he’d rocked Jonathan a little while earlier. When she was settled, he pulled a straight-backed wooden chair near her and sat.
He didn’t want to seem a threat so chose his words carefully. He didn’t need to be at odds with her, not when so much was at stake. This was too important, both for her and for the baby.
He leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees. “If someone tried to harm Jonathan—”
She glared at him and he knew he was off to a faulty start. He held up his hand before she had a chance to argue. “—and I believe someone did, then you aren’t safe alone. Whoever wants Jonathan dead will keep trying until they succeed.”
“Not if they can’t find us.”
“That’s your mistake. They will find you. Once a person resorts to murder, they don’t give up. Which means you will live your life constantly on the move.”
“Then I’ll move whenever I feel I must.”
“What kind of a life will that be for your son? Traveling from place to place without belonging anywhere?”
She bolted from her chair and held the blanket tight in front of her. “What kind of a life will Jonathan have if he’s dead? And he will be if I allow you to hand him over to the Earl of Penderly.” She shook her head. “No, I won’t give him up.”
Austin stood. He took a step toward her and raised himself to his full height. “Unfortunately, Lady Fledgemont, you don’t have a say in this. Jonathan holds the Fledgemont title even now, and will, in time, be the Earl of Penderly. I intend to see that he has all the advantages the Earl of Penderly can provide him. The only decision you have to make is whether or not you will go with him.” He paused. “Or choose to live your life separated from him.”
Chapter 7
Sarah reached out to steady herself. “You would take Jonathan away from me?”
“I’m not taking him away from you. I’m offering him a better life than the one you can give him. I’m offering you the same gift.”
She had to think. She couldn’t let him give Jonathan to the earl. Penderly would rather see Jonathan dead than pass down his title to the son of an actress.
She pulled the cover tighter around her and knelt on the blanket where Jonathan played. She’d lose him once Penderly found out he existed.
She cupped her hand to Jonathan’s rosy cheek and he squirmed with excitement. This was his usual reaction when she came near him. He was such a happy baby. Such a beautiful baby. So like his father in looks and coloring. Her heart ached at what it would mean not to be able to watch him grow.
How could she keep him with her?
A stabbing of fear engulfed her. The pain was so intense she thought her heart would break. She picked him up and nestled him close. How could she give him up? And she’d have to once the earl saw her, once he realized she wasn
’t Lady Fledgemont.
She rocked back and forth, letting the tears run down her cheeks. Jonathan was hers. He’d always been hers, from the moment of his birth.
She suddenly despised the man the Earl of Penderly had sent to find her. Disliked him with more intensity and bitterness than she thought it was possible to feel.
She stood with Jonathan in her arms and turned to face him. She didn’t care that her cheeks were wet with tears. Didn’t care that the fury she felt for him was evident in her gaze. In fact, she wanted him to know how angry she was with him. Wanted him to know that his loyalty to the Earl of Penderly would mean Jonathan’s death.
She stepped toward him, shoved aside any attraction she’d felt for him. The emotional pull he’d awakened in her died a sudden death.
She took another threatening step toward him. When she was close enough she could touch him if that was her intent, she turned little Jonathan in her arms. “I want you to take a good look at Jonathan, Captain Landwell. I want you to notice how blue his eyes are. His father’s were the same blue. I want you to remember the way his blond hair curls at the ends. His father’s did the same when it got overly long. I want you to take note of his happy face, his rosy cheeks, his plump little arms and legs. Jonathan is a beautiful child. He’s a happy child. And he’s alive.”
More tears streamed down her cheeks but she didn’t care. Let him see them. If she couldn’t convince him to change his mind, these would be the first of many tears she’d shed.
“I want his face etched in your mind so you never forget it. I want his giggles and excitement to haunt you every time you close your eyes, because your actions today will end his laughter.”
“Enough!”
His roar should have frightened her. It didn’t. It only frightened Jonathan. He stiffened in her arms and let out a series of whimpers. She turned the babe in her arms and nestled him close. “What hold does Penderly have over you? What did he offer you that was worth taking a child away from his mother?”
The muscles knotted at the sides of his jaws. His anger was palpable. But she didn’t care. She would lose everything that was important to her if she couldn’t convince him to let her keep Jonathan.
Captain Landwell’s fists tightened at his sides and he kept his glare focused on her “There is no hold. I am not a man who can be bought. If you knew me better, you’d know that.”
“I have no desire to know you better,” she said with all the bitterness pent inside her. “In fact, I wish I had never met you.”
“I’m sure you do, but your wishes don’t count now, do they?”
She glared at him and tried to hold that look. With a menacing threat, he held out his arms. “Give me the babe.”
“No.”
“Give him over.”
He didn’t wait for her to relinquish Jonathan on her own, but took him from her. She struggled to keep him with her but Landwell was too strong, too overpowering. He held him in his arms and stepped out of reach.
“The boy and I will wait out in the hall while you dress. In the meantime, I’ll have the innkeeper’s wife send up a tray. We’ll breakfast before we leave.”
“Leave? No! You can’t mean—”
“Enough of your arguments, Lady Fledgemont. When we finish our meal, we’ll go to London. My brother has a town house where you and the babe can stay while I talk to Penderly. Unless, of course, you decide to stay behind. Then I’ll take Jonathan to London without you.”
The blood rushed from her head. Fear pressed against her chest like a heavy weight. “I’ll never give Jonathan up. Never!”
“Good. I was hoping you’d realize how much a boy needs a mother growing up. It would be a shame to deprive him of someone who loves him as you obviously love your son.”
Her heart pounded against her ears. She had to go with him—he’d left her no choice. But surely she could find a way to escape before he handed Jonathan over to Penderly.
A cold chill wracked her from head to toe. She’d killed a man before to protect the babe. Surely she could find the courage to do the same again if she had to.
She closed her eyes and prayed it wouldn’t come to that.
“Dress now and collect your belongings. We’ll leave as soon as we’ve eaten.”
He exited the room and she quickly dressed. She didn’t like having Jonathan out of her sight. She didn’t think he was so cowardly he’d take the babe while she dressed, but that didn’t stop the unease that consumed her. The babe hadn’t been out of her sight since he’d been born.
She fastened the last button on her cuff as she rushed across the room and threw open the door. He stood in the hallway with Jonathan in his arms and a smile on his face.
“I knew you wouldn’t take long, my lady, but you far surpassed the usual time it takes a woman to dress.”
“I didn’t realize you were so experienced concerning the time it takes a woman to dress.” She reached for Jonathan and took him from Landwell’s arms. When she looked up, his smile broadened. How could she be attracted to someone who was so worldly?
She’d considered his features to be pleasing, even handsome in a rugged sort of way. But when he smiled, his eyes lit with a glow that sent shivers down her spine. His effect pummeled her with a staggering force and she stumbled back a small step.
He reached for her and clasped his fingers around her arms. His secure grasp made her feel safe, caused her to crave remaining close to him. What was wrong with her?
She’d always been the strong one, always had to make the decisions when her mother fell ill, then her father, and after, when Lord Fledgemont died and she was left to care for Lady Fledgemont. And finally when the poor lady died and she had to protect Jonathan. Why was she so willing to yield now?
Austin Landwell was about to destroy her future. Destroy Jonathan’s. She should be trembling in fear. Instead, she couldn’t seem to think straight. Or breathe.
“Are you all right?”
“Of course. I…uh…lost my footing.” She tried to pull out of his grasp but he wouldn’t let her.
“You’re unsteady because you haven’t eaten. Come. Sit down. I’ve asked Mrs. Pollock to send up a warm tray.”
Without hesitation, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and ushered her back into the room. As if his announcement was a summons, the innkeeper’s wife stepped through the open doorway with a tray in her hands.
“Ah, just in time, Maude. The lady just commented that the smells coming from your kitchen made her mouth water.”
The rosy-cheeked cook hurried forward and set the tray on a small table. “Then she’d best lose no time in doing justice to what I brought her. It’s obvious the poor dear hasn’t had a decent meal in who knows how long.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Landwell echoed.
“Sit down, the both of you. I brought some milk for the wee lad and I’ll just sit here by the fire and feed him while you and the Captain eat. It’s been ever so long since I’ve held a babe in my arms.”
Sarah handed Jonathan over. “Thank you, Mrs. Pollock.”
Landwell pulled the chair near the fire and when Mrs. Pollock was settled, he moved the small table and tray to the other side of the room. He obviously wanted to eat where they were semi-secluded so they could talk in private. But he didn’t have to worry. Mrs. Pollock was too busy fussing over Jonathan and making motherly cooing noises to hear anything they said.
“Sit here.”
His order shifted her attention. He pointed to the edge of the bed. After she sat, he shoved the table close to her. “Eat your food while it’s hot,” he said, then walked to the other side of the room and brought back another chair.
He sat, then looked at the fare Mrs. Pollock offered them. Another smile lifted the corners of his lips. Two deep creases formed on either side of his mouth and her heart clenched. She shifted uneasily, as if moving would stop the emotion from growing.
“Eat,” he ordered as he dropped another large spoon of meat pie o
nto her plate. “I’m not sure when we’ll get our next meal.”
She clutched the floral cloth she was sure Mrs. Pollock intended she use as a napkin. “Perhaps we can stay here one more day. Jonathan would benefit from the extra—”
“We’ll leave as soon as we’ve eaten. The next decent inn is several hours from here. I want to reach it before nightfall.”
“But—”
He held up his fork to halt her words. “Arguing will do no good, Lady Fledgemont. The sooner we reach London, the sooner I can convince you that Lord Penderly and his wife mean the boy no harm.”
“Then I will continue to use the little time I have left to convince you I have no intention of giving my son over to the Earl of Penderly.”
The meaning behind their locked gazes was plain. They were at war. The battle lines were drawn and neither of them intended to yield. He was so sure that if there had been an attempt on Jonathan’s life, Penderly wasn’t involved in it.
And she was equally as sure that he was.
“Did you miss London while you lived at Wakemoor?” he asked after he’d eaten a good portion of the fare on his plate.
His question shocked Sarah. It was a personal topic she wasn’t willing to discuss. It was more information than she wanted to divulge, and yet, she found herself wanting to know as much as she could about him.
“No, I didn’t miss London. I grew up in a village identical to Wakemoor, and the villagers more than made Fledgemont and me feel welcome the moment we arrived.” She took a sip of the water Mrs. Pollock had brought with her and set her glass down. “What about you? Are you content living in London?”
“Content?” He sat back in his chair and studied her. “I’m not sure it’s possible to be content in London. If you have the means to enjoy the social life, London is where you go for excitement. If you don’t have the means to enjoy London, the City is a place from where you are desperate to escape.”
She slowly chewed the piece of warm buttered bread she’d just put in her mouth. “That’s an unusual way to look at things. On which side of the fence do you fall?”