by Mary Brendan
* * *
Mrs Gideon had cooked and cleared away supper then departed to her own home with her husband over an hour since when Faye heard the sound of an approaching rider. She’d been seated at her writing desk for quite some time, but had penned just a few sentences in reply to Peter’s letter; her usual flowing prose when telling him her news and enquiring after his seemed to have deserted her. She pushed the parchment away and got up to investigate. Having discerned two sets of hooves hitting ground, she supposed that two horsemen were approaching along the lane.
She was the only one still up. Having decided he must rise at the crack of dawn in readiness for his trip to Scotland, Michael had jumped into bed as soon as he’d eaten. Claire had also sought her own room and her fashion journals, taking two candles with her to read by, as cloud had brought dusk down early.
Pulling back the parlour curtain, Faye held aloft the lamp and squinted into twilight; her flitting gaze steadied, then whipped back to a dark silhouette. She froze. By the front gate was Ryan Kavanagh seated on his stallion. The animal moved restlessly and she glimpsed her little mare in its lee. Kavanagh had seen her and rather than pretend ignorance of his presence, she opened the window to speak to him.
‘Thank you, sir, for bringing Daisy back,’ she said a trifle breathlessly. ‘I’d be grateful if you would put her in the coach house. Please take your pony home with you. Goodnight...’
Ryan raised a booted foot over the stallion’s neck, then leapt agilely to the ground.
‘Are you going to invite me in?’
His voice was as quiet as hers had been, but she heard it very well, straining as she was to catch every smooth syllable.
‘I’m afraid not, sir. It is late and my family have retired. I’m about to go to bed, too...’ That last remark was a mistake, she realised. She might not be able to clearly see his face, but she knew he was smiling sarcastically.
‘Come out here then.’ He opened the gate and walked closer, stopping halfway down the path.
For what seemed like an age their eyes merged and strained and no sound broke the stillness other than the hoot of an owl. Then the eerie bark of a vixen calling her mate startled Faye into reaching to close the sash.
‘You said you weren’t frightened of me, Faye,’ he provoked her softly. ‘Neither do you need to be. I was stupid to say what I did.’
‘If that is your way of apologising for having insulted me—’ Faye broke off and pressed together her lips, conscious of her brother and sister upstairs. She didn’t want them to know he was here let alone be privy to this conversation.
‘Offering you anything you desire and my protection is an insult?’ He thrust his hands into his pockets and glanced along the lane. ‘What is it you want, then? Tell me.’
‘I want you to leave me alone.’
‘No, you don’t.’ He swung his face back in her direction and his dark eyes captured hers.
I do... The words keened in her mind, but she couldn’t utter the lie and she saw that her silence was enough for him.
‘Come out here... I need to talk to you about something.’
‘I can’t...we might be spotted together on the lane.’ Faye whispered in a hiss of frustration. Already there was that heaviness in her belly and breasts that she was coming to associate with him; it made a bittersweet restlessness bedevil her. She knew not what she wanted, but feared that he did, and could make her beg him for it. So he must go.
‘I’ll take you for a ride...away from here...nobody will see us.’
Faye’s eyes widened in shock. Surely he was joking. But it seemed he was not. He raised a hand and beckoned lazily.
Faye quickly dropped the sash and the curtain into place. She backed away, a hand pressed to the pulse bobbing crazily in her throat.
Instinctively she made to extinguish the lamp, as though intending to hide in the dark. She snatched her hands from it and tilted back her head, her eyes squeezing shut. She was not a timid mouse! She was an independent woman with responsibilities. And he...he was a scoundrel who should leave decent women alone!
Before her yearning body could argue against that opinion on his character, she lit her speedy way up to her chamber. She glanced from behind an edge of curtain. She could see nobody out there now. But she’d not heard him go. Sitting down on the edge of her bed, Faye dropped her face into her cupped palms as a spasm of excitement shook her to her core. She gripped the mattress to prevent herself jumping up and racing down the dark stairs and out into the night to find him.
After sitting still for what seemed like an hour, but was probably not even half that time, Faye got up and peeped out. All was quiet; the moon was veiled in fleecy nimbus and just a few stars twinkled at the edges of the heavens. She imagined he had done as she asked and stabled her pony before leaving. There was no sign of Daisy tethered by the gate.
Impetuously Faye turned and sped noiselessly down the stairs, then eased back the bolts on the door. She hesitated on the step, listening, before dashing towards the coach house, the lamp swinging in her hand. The large planked door whined open and she went in with the light held up high.
Indeed he had put her pony in the stall his gelding had occupied. Daisy whinnied softly to welcome her. Faye hurried closer and put the lamp on the brick floor. Gently she ran a hand over a velvety flank, then spontaneously put her arms around Daisy’s neck, laying her cheek against soft warm flesh. ‘He has mended you well and I must thank him for that...if nothing else. I have missed you, little Daisy. Show me your poor leg... I’m sorry I hurt you.’ Faye crouched down to test the animal’s bony shins, glad that Daisy had no tender places that made her protest on being touched. ‘You are quite fit again, aren’t you, little one?’ She stroked the docile mare’s nose.
It was the scent of tobacco that brought Faye upright and made her whip around. She glimpsed a red glow and although she couldn’t see the smoke in the dark she could smell it as he exhaled. ‘What are you doing?’ she demanded shakily, feeling embarrassed that he’d overheard her murmuring to Daisy.
‘I’m wishing I was that horse,’ he said drily.
In a fluid movement he rose from the upended crate he’d been seated on and ground underfoot on cobbles the half-smoked cheroot.
‘You knew I’d come out here, didn’t you? You waited for me!’ Faye accused. She was filled with tumultuous emotion, torn between bolting for the house and striking him for having almost startled the life out of her.
‘Of course I waited for you...you knew I would.’
‘I did not! Where are your horses?’
‘Tethered outside.’
‘You think you’re so clever, don’t you? You’re so arrogant you think you can have anything you want...’
He’d come close enough now for her to properly distinguish his tall broad shape, but his features remained indistinct. He stopped a few yards from her. ‘Tell me what you want, Faye.’
‘I want you to go away and leave me be,’ she whispered. ‘I...I am frightened of you.’
‘You’re frightened of yourself, not of me. I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do.’
‘Go, then...’
‘I can’t...’
‘Why not?’
‘You’d be forcing me to do something I don’t want to do,’ he said solemnly.
Faye bit her lip to quell a hysterical giggle. ‘I don’t care about your feelings,’ she retorted. ‘You’re a stranger and you’re trespassing on my property.’
‘I’m no stranger to you. A few days ago you spoke of us being friends. Besides, you’ve trespassed on my property.’
‘I have not!’ Faye snapped indignantly. ‘I went to the manor with good reason and Ruby invited me in.’
He’d come closer and was now a mere arm span away. ‘I’ve come here with good reason.’
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‘I’m grateful for what you did.’ Faye glanced at her well-groomed and nourished pony.
‘My pleasure...’ he drawled. ‘But there’s more to it than that, isn’t there?’
Faye’s wide glossy eyes darted to him. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You want me to take you to Ireland to find Deborah Shawcross, don’t you?’
‘No!’ Faye was astonished that he’d worked that out. ‘It’s true I must discover my stepmother’s whereabouts. When you said you were going there with Ruby I wondered if you might make enquiries to help me locate her. Claire has said she wants to go and visit her mother and I think it is wise...given the circumstances here at home.’ Faye paused. ‘But that was before. Now you need not fear I will ever impose on you again.’
‘Why will you not?’
‘You know the answer to that, sir.’
‘And if I tell you my generosity no longer comes at a price?’
‘I would answer...why is that?’ Faye’s voice was husky with doubt and suspicion.
‘And I’d say...damned if I know...’ he drawled. ‘Nevertheless it’s the truth. And there’s something else you should know.’
‘Yes?’ Faye angled her head to try to read his expression. In the gloom all she could see of his eyes was a shadow of long lashes on his lean cheeks.
‘There’s no need to search for her; I know where your stepmother is.’
Chapter Thirteen
Faye was momentarily too stunned to speak and he didn’t interrupt her spinning thoughts with a comment for a full minute.
‘Are you sending your sister away because of Donagh Lee?’
Faye murmured confirmation. ‘I’ve no choice now. Her friend has started talk in town. Had you not been away in London I expect you would have heard it, too. Everybody in Wilverton knows about Claire and a gypsy boy.’ Faye paused. ‘Thankfully few believe it because Claire’s friend is a known troublemaker. But we can no longer brazen it out and hope to get away with it.’
‘Send Claire away and it’ll be assumed she’s guilty.’
‘She is guilty!’ Faye cried in a suffocated voice. ‘The stupid girl has brought herself close to ruin. She is due to make her debut next year.’ Faye wasn’t sure why she was telling him, of all people, about it. But now she’d started it seemed hard to stop unburdening herself. ‘I don’t like implying Peggy Miller is a liar. The Reverend Holly and his wife came this afternoon to show us support and tell us they don’t believe a word the girl has said.’ Faye made an anguished little sound. ‘Do you know how hard it is to constantly pick a path between truth and lie when conversing with friends about such a delicate matter?’
‘I suspect my conscience is not as troubled as yours by such things,’ he said ruefully. ‘But it is troubled by something else,’ he added after a pause. ‘And telling you about it was one of the reasons that brought me here this evening.’
‘What have you done?’ Faye immediately asked.
‘It’s my fault that your sister came into contact with Donagh Lee in the first place. Let me do what I can to help put things right. I might be a mere man, but I understand what lies in wait for a genteel young lady when her reputation is compromised. One of the reasons I left Ireland was to put distance between Ruby and Donagh before she fell completely under his spell.’
‘She said he wanted to marry her.’
‘He wasn’t as keen on the match as his father. Nevertheless Ruby was easily flattered when he started to romance her and quickly thought herself in love. She is sixteen and far too young and immature to be talking of being anybody’s wife. So I brought her to the English countryside out of their reach...or so I thought.’
Faye marvelled anew at how similar the master of Valeside’s predicament was to her own. Then comprehension dawned as their eyes merged in the dusk. ‘Are you saying that the Lees followed you here from Ireland?’ She sounded incredulous.
‘Yes...they followed us here. In attempting to solve my problem I have created one for you. And for that I am truly sorry. Had I not come to Wilverton, then your sister would never have met Donagh Lee.’
‘You weren’t to know that this would happen,’ Faye said graciously but nevertheless she gave a deep sigh. ‘Bill Lee must have taken the matter of his son’s marriage very seriously to pursue you like that.’
‘Marriage is a serious business,’ Ryan said. ‘And nobody but a fool would enter into it without due consideration.’
‘Indeed...’ Faye sensed the barb in the comment and felt the weight of his eyes preying on her. ‘And the other reason?’ she blurted. ‘You said that your conscience wasn’t the only thing that brought you here this evening.’
‘In truth, it wasn’t even the most pressing... I wanted to see you, Miss Shawcross, and well you know it. You have me twined quite firmly about your finger...as I’m sure you’re aware.’
‘I know nothing of the sort! And neither do I want you twined about my finger.’
‘Do you not?’ he asked suggestively. ‘Why not?’
‘If I needed a man at my beck and call, then I would want it to be my future husband.’
‘I doubt you would get your wish; he seems to do without you quite well.’ Ryan moved a step closer. ‘Whereas I can’t sleep for thinking about you.’
Faye felt too aware of the soft darkness enclosing them and the narcotic pull of his powerful presence just beyond her fingertips. ‘Might I have Deborah’s direction so I can take my sister to her without delay?’ she blurted.
‘No...’
‘Why say you know where she is, then, if you intend keeping your knowledge to yourself?’ she said in frustration. ‘Or perhaps you are lying again...’
‘Again?’
The single word was uttered in a perilously silken tone. Faye rubbed goose pimples from her arms, backing away until her spine was against the wooden rail of Daisy’s stall.
‘When have I lied to you?’
‘I’ve received a letter from Peter; he made no mention of having seen Westwood in London, or even of being in London.’
‘Perhaps he doesn’t want you to know they met, or where he is.’
‘What are you implying, Mr Kavanagh?’ Faye sharply demanded.
‘I’m implying nothing; I’ll plainly say that your fiancé was in town with the man you unwisely entrusted with your inheritance.’
‘If you are trying to drive us apart by making me think badly of Peter, it will not work.’ She choked an acrid laugh. ‘Westwood is obviously too cowardly to own up to my fiancé about his dreadful incompetence. And Peter was obviously unaware he was in the company of a fellow who has let us both down. If he has recently been in London I expect he has been granted some extra days’ leave and I hope he enjoyed himself,’ she ended defiantly.
‘He did...take it from me,’ Ryan said sardonically, remembering the two tavern whores the men had been with. ‘And you, my dear, will make the perfect consort if you never require a plausible explanation for a man’s absences.’
‘I will make Peter Collins a good wife; he is the only man I want.’
‘Is that so?’
‘Yes...’ Faye whispered, shrinking back as he moved a step closer. She threw back her head, meeting his black diamond eyes through the flickering lamplight. ‘Why won’t you give me my stepmother’s address?’ she whispered. After seconds of pulsating silence she answered her own question. ‘I think you were lying about not wanting your assistance rewarded. Mr Gideon could have brought Daisy back earlier. And assuaging your conscience could have waited until another time. But you didn’t want that, did you? You came here at dusk to see me because you wanted to tantalise me with information about my stepmother, hoping to force me to ride with you to the woods to learn more, and once there you could do what you want to me...’
‘Go on...�
� Ryan growled, dragging her against his tense body. ‘You’re firing yourself up...and me, too. What is it I want to do to you, Faye? What is it you want me to do to you?’ he coarsely provoked her.
‘Nothing... I want nothing from you,’ she cried raggedly, making to dodge past him. But she was wedged between the wooden stall and his immovable frame and the heat of his torso in the cool dewy air was enticing her to rub against him. The darkness was conspiratorial, too, covering her blushes, and she tilted up her face, arching her back to tempt his hands and mouth to plunder her lips and body.
Ryan’s mouth descended so fast and hard that she would have buckled at the knees with the force of it but for his pelvis rammed against hers. His hands deftly unhooked her bodice buttons with a speed she would have found difficult to achieve. His long fingers splayed over her warm throbbing breasts, teasing the little nubs with thumb strokes before easing the silken mounds free of her chemise. He lowered his head, suckling one then the other with tender savagery that drove Faye wild and made her grasp the back of his head to imprison him.
He lifted her against the stall, seating her on its lip while working up her skirts with practised skill. Then his fingers were under the hem of her drawers and he was teasing the core of her femininity with artful movements of a knuckle. His mouth stroked and played back and forth between the sensitive breasts he held cupped in one large, possessive hand, the nipples made long and rigid by his cleverly attentive tongue. So sensitive was her bare bosom that just a slick of his warm breath as his mouth descended was enough to make her whimper and writhe in ecstasy.
‘Does he make you feel this way when he touches you?’ Ryan mouthed harshly against her cheek.
‘No...’ The word was gasped out, but she could say no more although the words spun in her head. Peter would never do this to her because he loved and respected her too much. But Faye was caught in a web of carnal desire and neither her dignity nor her reason could pull her free.
With a feral growl Ryan lifted her down, taking her to the straw on the ground with him. He’d pushed back her knees and plunged his hips between them before Faye had drawn breath to protest even had she wanted to. And she didn’t want to.