They had walked the rest of the way in complete silence. Despite the utter humiliation, she admired James Warriner’s loyalty towards his family. He had stepped in to defend his brother without a moment’s hesitation and then he had not thought twice about manhandling her father out of the house. Cassie had never seen her papa so flummoxed before or so effectively silenced.
The Bible quotations he threw back were also to be commended. If her father would listen to her, which of course he never ever did, she was sorely tempted to tell him a man who could correctly quote chapter and verse from the Good Book, without the need to first check the Good Book for reference, was hardly ungodly. Captain Warriner knew chapter and verse and wielded them with the same deathly precision her father did. Yet to better effect.
Then the Captain had practically lifted her father off the floor with those impressive strong arms of his, forcing her papa to do a funny little tiptoe dance as he was removed swiftly from the Warriners’ drawing room. Cassie would have enjoyed that particular part of the awful memory had she not been completely mortified by everything which occurred beforehand. She would have laughed at the ridiculousness of the spectacle. Perhaps she would be able to find the wherewithal to laugh if she ever managed to escape.
It was funny, but in her mind her father had always been such a towering, terrifying man. A man to brook no argument. Up against her dashing, serious pirate he was little more than a weed stood next to a mighty oak. Solid. Strong. Dependable. And oh-so-handsome Captain Warriner made her want to swoon. Perhaps, as her father was wont to point out, she was her mother’s daughter after all if she was so easily impressed and overwhelmed by the sight of a gorgeous man. A gorgeous man who probably wanted to wring her by the neck now. So far, she had inconvenienced him, squashed him, forced him to lie on her behalf and allowed him to be grossly, unforgivably insulted in the comfort of his own home.
* * *
Now, to compound her misery and right the wrong which he had perceived had been done to him, her father intended to vilify the poor family further from the pulpit. Cassie had already endured an hour of it over dinner, scathing, hateful words which blackened the Warriner name and cast fresh aspersions about their characters, and that was only the first draft of his sermon. There would be more fire and brimstone by Sunday. No mercy would be shown. Cassie’s only hope was that the family did not attend the service. She had not noticed them sat in the pews in the fortnight she had been in Retford, although that was hardly a surprise when she rarely paid attention in church at the best of times if her father was preaching the sermon. However, she had a feeling she would have seen Jamie. The sight of his fine shoulders in his Sunday best combined with his dashing good looks would have brought her out of even the deepest of daydreams. And those penetrating, soulful eyes... But there was nothing to be done about it now. Those eyes, quite rightly, would only regard her with wariness in future.
With a sigh, she blew out the candle on her nightstand and swung her legs into bed. She doubted she would sleep, but as Orange Blossom and the Great Apple Debacle had come to a shuddering halt in her mind at least she would be comfortable while she stared listlessly up at the ceiling.
* * *
As bad ideas went, this one ranked as one of the worst Jamie had ever come up with. It made no difference how well trained he was in covert reconnaissance, lurking in the bushes outside a lady’s open window at midnight was not really something any decent gentleman should do under any circumstances. As a Warriner, with the absolute worst of reputations, the repercussions for both himself and poor Miss Reeves did not bear thinking about. Nobody would believe he was there out of necessity because his conscience needed to know that she was safe and well. In fact, he had needed to know so badly he had even braved the darkness to find out, skulking in the bushes for the right opportunity to present itself.
But he had lurked for the better part of an hour already, waiting for her awful father to finally leave his study and head to bed, and now that he was sure the man must be fast asleep, regardless of the impropriety, he simply had to see her. Properly see her, to speak to her, rather than the fleeting glimpses he had seen of her moving about her bedchamber from his hiding place in the foliage.
At least she was still awake. The dim light of her candle did little to illuminate the darkness, but it was some light. There was also a full moon which offered a little more and a reassuring sprinkling of twinkling stars to alleviate the paralysing fear which came from total blackness. In view of the clandestine manner of his visit he had had to leave his lantern hidden down the lane with Satan, which was beyond unnerving. Without thinking, he checked the waistband of his trousers and settled his hand on the solid comfort of the handle of his pistol. Just in case.
In case of what, he would not be able to articulate to anyone. He certainly had no intention of using it on either her father or any locals who might happen to discover him in his current precarious position. Except, the incessant feeling of unease was his constant companion during these dark hours, and he could never let down his guard even though he understood the threat was gone. No matter how many times he gave himself a stern talking to, Jamie knew all too well that bad things occurred at night when he had least expected them, so it made perfect sense to him that he should always face it armed, even though the only danger nowadays came from himself.
The light from her window suddenly died and fear clenched his gut as the darkness choked him. The rational part of his mind reasoned with the irrational and he remembered his mission. Irrational fears had to be ruthlessly ignored until he knew Cassie was safe. Stealthily, Jamie crept out of the bushes and limped towards the vicarage. Her window was tucked to the side, offering him some camouflage. Fortunately, she had also left it open.
‘Miss Reeves.’ The rustling leaves stole his voice although he dared not speak any louder. Jamie chose the smallest of the stones in his hand and tossed it at the glass, then waited.
Nothing.
The next two stones tapped the window in quick succession. After half a minute of standing poised, Jamie decided there was nothing else for it. A handful of gravel pelted the darkened window as hard as he dared without shattering the glass. Finally, his perseverance was rewarded by the sight of her face peeking through the new crack in the curtains. He waved like an idiot, watching her eyes widen with alarm, and suddenly wished he had given up on his foolhardy plan an hour ago. As if the poor girl would actually want to see a broken, useless former soldier stood below her like Romeo. What the hell had he been thinking?
She flung open the curtains and pushed the window open further. Her head followed. Only then did he realise her hair was unbound. It hung down above him like a silk curtain, momentarily distracting him from the dark or from immediately explaining his presence and making him wish he was Romeo. If there had been a trellis, and if he hadn’t been lame, then he would have eagerly clambered up it then. Just to touch her hair.
‘Captain Warriner?’
She issued one of those weird whispered shouts which had no volume and appeared completely flabbergasted.
‘I apologise for the bizarre way in which I have sought you out, Miss Reeves, but I wanted to talk to you and could think of no other way to do it without raising the ire of your father.’ The words were out before he realised how stupid they were. If her father disapproved of her speaking to him in public, properly chaperoned and in broad daylight, his response to seeing his only daughter clandestinely speaking with him in her nightclothes at midnight was hardly going to go down well. The sanctimonious old fool would probably have an apoplexy. He could tell by her expression she thought much the same.
‘I was just thinking about you.’ A sentence to warm his cockles, dashed by her next. ‘And how you manhandled my father out of your drawing room.’
Jamie winced. While he was not sorry he had removed the fellow, he was sorry he had upset her in the process. Very pr
obably frightened her with his sudden aggression. ‘Of course, I apologise for my quick temper, Miss Reeves, but you have to understand that—’
‘My father was inexcusably rude and deserved nothing less.’
Her head disappeared back inside, leaving the window wide. After an unnaturally long pause she still did not materialise. ‘Miss Reeves?’ It was very hard to whisper with force so Jamie cupped his hands around his mouth in the hope it might direct the sound better. ‘Miss Reeves?’
He heard the tell-tale sound of a bolt being drawn and whipped his head towards it in alarm. And there she was. Stood behind him in her nightgown, a dense shawl wrapped around her shoulders and her lovely hair falling about her face in tousled waves. Bare toes poked from beneath the hem of the garment, reminding him that only the thin linen and one woollen shawl came between her skin and his eyes. Her eyes were downcast and something peculiar happened to his heart, almost as if it had lurched in his chest at the sight of her so upset.
‘I cannot tell you how sorry I am about what happened, Captain Warriner.’
He exhaled and continued to scrutinise her. Cassie found herself shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot, then when she could stand it no more she stared down at her feet to watch them dance nervously. When his big, warm hand came to rest gently on her cheek she almost jumped out of her skin.
‘Are you all right?’
She had been expecting shouting or curt, brittle words of outrage, not concern. Cassie risked peeking up at him and saw the same concern etched on his face. Almost as if he was worried about her.
‘Yes. I am quite well, Captain.’ Aside from the strange warmth spreading across her skin from where his palm still touched it. His hand dropped to his side and he sighed.
‘Your father is an interesting character.’
A very tactful way of phrasing it when, in her opinion, her hateful father did not deserve it. Making a decision she hoped she would not regret, Cassie pulled his arm gently and led them both well out of earshot of the house towards the bushes. Only when she was certain their voices would not carry, did she stop and turn to face him.
‘You are being unnecessarily kind. My father is a zealot, Captain Warriner. He is rude, sanctimonious and utterly self-righteous.’ And she had never criticised him out loud to another living soul before. Cautiously she glanced up at the sky just in case the Almighty had a mind to smite her for her disloyalty. Then again, if she was about to be consumed by the fires of hell, she might as well continue, because she was so mortified at what her father had done. ‘I tried to stop him from coming, but he never listens to me. In actual fact, I am not sure he ever listens to anyone. His overbearingness and forthright opinions are the reason why we move from parish to parish. The bishops try to reason with him, then when they fail to enlighten him to the error of his ways they find a more affable clergyman to replace him.’
As there were no ominous rumbles of thunder or lightning bolts in the star-kissed black sky she dared wonder if the Lord might have similar opinions of the Reverend Reeves. Despite her misgivings, Cassie felt strangely unburdened to have shared what she had kept locked inside her for so long and so relieved that he had come here, of his own volition, to see her that she was decidedly lightheaded. Captain Galahad’s dark eyebrows were raised, but other than that his expression was inscrutable in the shadows. Then just one side of his mouth quirked upwards.
‘I am sorry if I embarrassed you by throwing him out.’
‘You are not angry at me?’ Because people usually were. When her father had pushed too far and grievously upset someone, more often than not it was Cassie who they railed against as her father refused to hear them.
‘My father was a nasty, lying, violent drunk, so you have my sympathy, Miss Reeves. I know how unfair it is to be judged by the sins of a father. Did you think I came here to reprimand you?’
‘I asked you and your family to lie for me.’
‘After meeting your father, and hearing his condemnation of both my family and you, I can understand why. I doubt he would have been very pleased you had already taken tea with us, what with the Warriners all being cheats, liars, debauchers and fornicators!’ He imitated her father at the last word by pointing a quaking finger towards the sky, then he smiled and that smile turned her insides to mush. When it slid off his face and his brows pulled together again, Cassie felt bereft. ‘I did not like the way he spoke to you. He reminded me too much of my own father. I saw your fear, which in turn has made me wonder if your father is violent towards you, too, Miss Reeves.’ There was steel in his tone.
And just like that, he became Captain Galahad again, ready to rescue her or defend her if needed, like a true literary hero would. Cassie was in no doubt he would if she asked him to, something she should not have found thrilling, but did. However, she barely knew him and feared her father’s retribution too much to confess the truth.
‘My father is not a violent man, Captain Warriner.’ At least not in the strictest sense of what violence meant. He preferred to use repentance rather than beat her, although she would prefer a sound thrashing any day than his cruel choice of punishment. He had a violent temper. An unpredictable and violent temper which terrified her. Even when not in a temper he was fearsome. Changeable. He had verbally assaulted her on at least a daily basis for as long as she could remember. He was cold, distant, frequently spiteful and disappointed by her. Sometimes, she had genuinely believed he might lend his unpredictable anger to his fists, but in each instance he had chosen to lock her in her bedchamber instead. Manhandling her was not the same as beating. ‘He believes violence is a sin.’
‘I am relieved to hear it.’ Although he didn’t look entirely convinced he believed her. ‘If that changes, you will tell me.’
It was a command rather than a question. A lovely command which made her pulse flutter. Nobody had ever offered to defend her before. Or thrown stones at her window in the dead of night to see her. And now, without even considering the gross impropriety of the situation, she was stood before him in her nightgown, enveloped by the intimacy of the night and charmed by the stars. Despite her best efforts not to, a hot blush bloomed on her face and she stuttered a pathetic response which she had intended to sound glib, but which came out a trifle desperate instead.
‘Th-thank you for your consideration, although I dare say we shall be summarily moved on to yet another unsuspecting parish shortly so you will be relieved of the obligation.’ The reality of the statement made her voice wobble. Always moving was so unsettling. One day, when she had squirrelled away enough of the pitiful coins she was able to save from her meagre housekeeping budget, she would find a permanent home and never go back. It was a dream which sustained her and demoralised her at the same time. At the rate she was going, she might have enough to rent a squalid room somewhere in a decade. Until then, she had to make the best of things, which in turn meant being at the mercy of her father’s tempestuous and nomadic lifestyle.
‘My offer stands, regardless of your location.’
Cassie wanted to hug him. Feel the contact and the strength in those big arms and perhaps experience what is was to be close to another human being. Just this once—but such nonsense was not acceptable. Not in a nightgown at any rate.
‘Again, I thank you for your consideration, but your concern is not necessary. My father is not a violent man, Captain Warriner.’ Just a cruel one.
He said nothing, but those blues eyes saw too much, making Cassie suddenly uncomfortable with her need to tell him everything. As a diversion she walked a little way in front of him and stared up at the moon while she waited for either him to speak or to come up with a safe topic of conversation herself. Already she knew he would not be the first to break the silence. Her pirate was a man of few words. ‘You know your Bible, Captain.’ A topic too close to her father, but the best she could manage in her current state.
‘By accident, Miss Reeves, I can assure you. Religion did not form much of my education growing up. We Warriners are all cheats, liars, debauchers and fornicators, remember.’
His expression was serious although his eyes shone with mischief. An unexpected bubble of laughter escaped and lightened Cassie’s mood. ‘How does one learn the Bible by accident?’
‘I spent six months as a guest of Napoleon in his dankest gaol. My only company was an old and mouldering King James Bible.’
‘You were a prisoner!’ Instantly Cassie felt nauseous. Six months of incarceration did not bear thinking about. The most Cassie had endured was a week, although that week had felt like an eternity, leaving her feeling weak, exhausted and completely dead inside. ‘How did you cope?’
She could tell her question had made him uncomfortable because he looked away. ‘I did a great deal of thinking and repeatedly read that book from cover to cover.’ He came to stand beside her—just a few inches of air separated his arms from hers and the proximity felt intimate. ‘I read it backwards once. Just for something to do.’
‘I know the ten commandments backwards.’
His mouth curved slowly into a smile which made his eyes twinkle like the starlight. ‘Why am I not surprised, Miss Reeves?’
‘Perhaps we are kindred spirits?’ Why had she said that? Aside from the fact that she really wanted them to be. Silly fool that she was. ‘What I meant is we have things in common.’
‘Dreadful fathers and a tendency to do things backwards?’
‘Yes. I suppose. And we both enjoy creative pursuits. You paint beautiful pictures. I write silly stories. We also both love to ride.’ What was she trying to achieve? Did she hope he would want to carry her off into the sunset after a few scant meetings? While she would happily clamber on to the saddle with him, because already she knew him to be kind, brave and honourable as well as being ridiculously handsome and delightfully broad, Cassie forced herself to remember she was an odd, silly and slightly ridiculous specimen of womanhood and one who had caused him nothing but grief. Friendship, perhaps, with a man who probably thought her peculiar, but had still come to see her this evening to offer his protection. She was confusing pity with more. ‘Forgive me, Captain Warriner. I babble. I don’t mean to, but it happens regardless, and here I am again—babbling when I should plainly shut up.’
A Warriner to Rescue Her Page 6