Sea Wraith

by Jocelyn Kelley

  “I am.” She raised her foot to the step and grasped the side of the carriage. When a black-gloved hand was held in front of her face, she moved away, throwing herself off balance.

  His wide hands steadied her, but at a sharp angle. She put her hands onto his shoulders to keep from falling against his chest. That put her eyes on a level with his for the first time. They were dark pools in the night, but she suspected that, even if the sun had been at its zenith, she would not be able to read any of the emotions within them.

  “I warned ye,” he said, his voice a low, raw whisper that sent an abrupt shiver down her spine. “Ye need to take care.”

  Before she could think of a suitable response, his mouth slanted across hers while his arm pulled her up against him. She heard her servants shout protests, then all sound vanished as his lips burned into hers. The coarse fabric of his mask chafed her cheek. His fingers splayed across her back, something she noticed only with one corner of her mind. Every other sense was focused on how his tongue traced her lips, teasing them and thrilling them at the same time.

  The strong scent of sea salt filled her along with the more powerful one of unbridled masculinity. When his tongue teased her mouth open, she was unprepared for the moist heat of his tongue gliding along hers. She heard a breathless moan. Was it hers? She did not care when he lured her to seek pleasure in his mouth, too. She tasted a hint of ale, but she already was intoxicated.

  As his mouth glided across her face and followed the ribbon of her bonnet along her throat, he pressed her ever closer to his hard chest. She could barely breathe while he set her skin to quivering beneath his fiery lips. When he reached the edge of her bonnet, he whispered close to her ear, “I have been waiting for ye.”

  “What did you say?” Sian pushed him away, his words and her own breaking the spell he had cast over her with his kisses.

  When he released her abruptly, her arms windmilled as she fought to keep her balance. She dropped—hard—to sit on the carriage floor. Helen cried out in dismay and reached for her, but the maid pulled back when he leaned forward.

  He put his hands on either side of the door. “Ye heard what I said. Remember what I have told ye. All I have told ye.” He whirled away and whistled a piercing note.

  Sian pushed herself up to the carriage seat as the masked men vanished into the night. In the distance, she heard another sharp note. A single one. Some sort of signal?

  Her coachman came to the door. “Miss Nethercott, forgive me. I wanted to stop him, but—”

  “I understand, Williams.” She forced a smile for him and the tiger who held up the carriage lantern. “And you were wise, Morley, to obey those men. Who knows what they might have done if you had challenged them?”

  “He might have spared you such abuse.” The coachee’s face was gray in the lantern’s light.

  “We are alive. That is what is important.”

  “But—”

  She had no interest in hearing his abject apologies. All she wanted was to be alone where she could gather the remnants of her tattered composure. That she had allowed that man to kiss her was horrible enough. That she had enjoyed it was even more discomposing. “Get us to Bannatyne Hall at the best possible speed, Williams. Those men may not be the only ones of their ilk along the road.”

  Williams ran to climb into the box while the tiger closed the door. She felt the carriage bounce lightly and knew Morley was safely aboard as the coachee whipped up the horses so fast that she was slammed back against the seat.

  “I hope he does not kill us with such speed.” Her voice shook, and her hands did, too.

  “Oh, Miss Nethercott. Oh, Miss Nethercott,” Helen repeated as she sobbed into a handkerchief.

  “I am fine, Helen. I truly am.”

  “‘ow dare he treat ye like a common ‘arlot! If your sisters’ brave ‘usbands learned of this, they would see ‘im castrated.” The maid raised her head as her voice hardened, “Ye need to write to them right away and make sure justice is done. No man should treat ye so.”

  “We should consider ourselves fortunate that he did no more than what he did.” Her voice quavered less on each word, but a tempest still swirled within her. “I do not want to drag either my sisters or their husbands into this. What could they do? We did not see enough of the men’s faces to describe them.”

  “Ye be right, Miss Nethercott. It be over. We need to forget all about it.”

  “Yes. Forget all about it,” she parroted back.

  Helen began to talk about how she would arrange for a warm bath for Sian as soon as they arrived at Bannatyne Hall, prattling as she seldom did.

  Sian let her go on and on. Gazing out the window at the sea that had darkened into roiling ink, she told herself it was over. She needed to forget the fear, the annoyance, the astonishment, the sense of betrayal within her when she found herself returning his fiery kiss.

  Maybe she could forget all that, but she wondered if she could ever be able to forget the words he whispered against her bonnet:

  I have been waiting for ye.

  Chapter Three

  Bannatyne Hall was, Sian decided, the most beautiful building she had ever seen. In truth, it was a strange house perched on a windswept hill a half mile back from the shore. Additions and wings seemed to have been added with no clear plan. Roofs sprouted in every possible direction. Windows scattered across the façade were neither tall nor broad. They had been sunken into the stone walls, most likely to protect them from storms. Maybe in the daylight, the stone would be attractive, but the night had dulled it to a nondescript gray. Great hedges appeared as impenetrable as a curtain wall. But she never had been so happy to reach a destination, and Bannatyne Hall seemed as glorious as Nethercott Castle.

  “Thank ‘eavens,” Helen breathed as they slowed to a stop in front of the double doors. Lanterns chased away the night from either side of the entry steps.

  When her maid added nothing more, Sian relaxed against the seat. Helen’s voice had been rising on every word since the encounter with the masked men, and escalating hysteria had blurred them together. Sian’s ears had been battered with each one, and now silence should have been welcome. Instead it allowed that highwayman’s words to echo through her head anew.

  I have been waiting for ye.

  What had he meant? Why would he say such a thing?

  She forced the thoughts away when the carriage door opened. Morley said nothing and refused to meet her eyes as he handed her from the carriage. With his shoulders drooping, she guessed he was still ashamed that he had not been able to come to her rescue along the shore road. She wanted to assure him that he had done nothing wrong. After all, he had not kissed a common thief and enjoyed it

  Glad no one was privy to her thoughts, Sian straightened her bonnet that had bounced awry again as Williams had driven the carriage at a neck-or-nothing speed the last few miles. She stepped aside as the tiger assisted Helen out. The maid, who carried a small bag that contained the items Sian had brought into each inn with her, was muttering something, but Sian did not ask her to speak more clearly.

  The right side of the double doors opened, and lamplight flowed out. A tall form stepped into the light and called to Williams.

  The coachman said, “Miss Nethercott has arrived.”

  “We expected ye before sundown.” A footman rushed down the steps and motioned for Sian and her maid to come in without delay. “Unload Miss Nethercott’s bags and bring them in,” he ordered over his shoulder. “Then get the carriage around to the stables. It is a tempting target if thieves are abroad tonight. Ye should have not come so late.”

  He kept prattling like a schoolmaster chiding his students as he ushered Sian and Helen into the house. The maid’s skirt had barely cleared the doorway before he closed the door with a resounding slam.

  “Welcome to Bannatyne Hall, Miss Nethercott,” he said, giving a quick bow of his head.

  “Thank you.” She glanced past the black-haired footman who wore dark gr
een livery. The entrance hall was simple and about the size of the carriage in each direction. Paneled walls were a reminder that the house had been raised in the years after the War of the Roses. A single table was topped by a lamp that did little to challenge the dusk within the house.

  “Mrs. Jenkin, the housekeeper, has already retired to her rooms, Miss Nethercott.” The footman rocked from one foot to the other nervously. “If ye will wait in the blue parlor, I will send for her.”

  “There is no need to disturb her, if you will show us to our rooms.”

  “Mrs. Jenkin will not like that. She told us to send for her whenever ye arrived, day or night.”

  Helen stepped forward and scowled. “Ye ‘eard Miss Nethercott, lad. She would like to be taken to ‘er room straightaway. It ‘as been a long journey, and she wishes to retire now.”

  “Aye,” he said, his eyes widening.

  If Sian had not been all on end, she would have had a hard time hiding her smile. Helen might not have the prestige in the house of a housekeeper, but she was fiercely protective of Sian. Everyone in Nethercott Castle knew that, and soon the staff within Bannatyne Hall would learn that as well.

  “Follow me,” the footman said as he walked into the shadows at the far end of the foyer.

  Sian did, with Helen preceding her. The maid asked one question after another. By the time they traversed a passage to the base of a staircase, the footman had revealed his name was Tibbet. They were halfway up the stairs with its thick bannister when Tibbet revealed that Mrs. Jenkin, the housekeeper, and Oates, the butler, had been in service at the Hall since they were young.

  Helen did not ask the question that Sian most wanted an answer for. Her maid must suspect other ears were listening to the innocuous conversation. Sian did not care about what first impression they made on the household staff. She wanted the truth. Yet she did not have an opportunity to pose a question to Tibbet, because Helen kept him busy answering hers.

  On the second floor, Tibbet walked along a narrow passage with a barrel ceiling. The walls were stone, and nothing hung on them. Even a narrow table would have been too wide for the space. He warned them when the carpet beneath their feet rose with a pair of steps. That happened not once, but three times, and Sian wondered how many more times she could lift her leaden feet. Now that they were safe behind Bannatyne Hall’s thick walls, exhaustion had settled on her like a yoke across her shoulders and shackles on her legs.

  “Some parts of the house have settled over time,” he explained, “so passages have been adjusted. Other parts are built on solid rock, and nothing short of cannon would move them off their foundations.” He smiled over his shoulder. “Here, over the original gatehouse, the floors are uneven so attacking soldiers would be slowed down.”

  Sian shivered, not at the thought of long-ago battles, but the one she had fought such a short time ago. . .and lost.

  “Sorry, Miss Nethercott,” the footman said, his grin fading. “I did not mean to scare ye.”

  “Just get Miss Nethercott to ‘er room,” Helen ordered in a taut voice. “And no more silly tales from ye.”

  “Aye.” He hurried along the passage which merged with a wider one. Turning left, he opened a door and stepped past it.

  The light from his lantern spread across an Axminster carpet. The floral pattern was bright against the black background. The flattened roses in pinks and reds appeared and vanished as Tibbet went to light the lamp by the bed. Dark red bed curtains seemed to suck in the light, and she knew no hints of sunlight would intrude with dawn. She wondered why such a grim room had been chosen for her. The tester bed and the cupboard had been carved from gleaming mahogany. Beside the oriel windows, a chaise longue covered in the same burgundy shade as the bed curtains offered a place to read and gaze out at the scene beyond the house.

  Drawn to the tall windows, Sian peered into the night. She could see motion beyond the gardens. The sea. In the daylight, and when the moon rose, the vista before her would be breathtaking. She could not wait to walk to the shore tomorrow.

  “I will have yer bags brought up posthaste, Miss Nethercott,” said Tibbet, drawing her attention from the windows.

  “On the morrow will be better,” Helen said quickly. “Miss Nethercott ‘as all she needs for tonight.”

  Tibbet glanced at Sian for confirmation, and she had the chance she had been waiting for.

  “Tibbet,” she said, choosing each word with care even though she guessed Williams and the tiger had already told everyone in the stable about the incident, “we were halted on the shore road by a group of thieves.”

  “Oh, my,” he groaned. “I wish ye had not taken that road after dark. Didn’t Lord Bannatyne warn ye?”

  “Yes, he did, but, after we lost time when we became mired about halfway between here and Redruth, we hoped we could reach Bannatyne Hall or another coaching inn without incident. But we never saw another inn, and now it is now too late for regrets.” The trite words were easy to speak, but less than true. She regretted many aspects of the encounter, even as her traitorous lips craved another fervid kiss. “You clearly know about these men and their leader. Who are they? I thought they were highwaymen, but they took nothing from us.”

  “Nothing?” he repeated in disbelief.

  “They halted us, they made us get out of the carriage, then let us go. It makes no sense, and we could not guess anything from their expressions because they wore dominoes.”

  The footman’s round face lengthened as he spat, “‘Tis just as I feared. Ye met The Wraith.”

  “A wraith? Like a ghost?”

  “Not a wraith, but The Wraith. Aye, his name belongs to a ghost, but ‘e is a man. Ye need to stay far from ‘im, Miss Nethercott.”

  “It was not my choice that we meet. Who is he?”

  Tibbet gnawed on his lower lip.

  “You may be blunt,” she said as fatigue weighed more heavily on her with each breath. “You will not injure my sensibilities more than he has.” Heat slapped her cheeks, and she was grateful for the dim light. She did not want her sister’s household to form their first impressions of her by hearing how she had been taunted by the man who called himself Wraith. Taunted and embraced—and kissed.

  The footman nodded. “Very well, Miss Nethercott. The man is causing trouble. He and his band of moon-cussers—”

  “What are moon-cussers?”

  “Wreckers.”

  “Wreckers? Oh, my goodness!” She walked away, shocked. She had let a wrecker kiss her? She had let a wrecker kiss her, and she had kissed him back? In Yorkshire, she had heard of how people would scavenge goods from damaged ships. The North Sea was not far from Nethercott Castle, and its storms and the cliffs claimed many ships. Goods that washed ashore were fair game, belonging to whomever found them.

  But wreckers were not content to wait for a ship to founder. They set up false lights along the shore, leading a ship and its crew to doom. They were both thieves and murderers, because the goods aboard a sinking ship could not be claimed unless its whole crew was dead. Wreckers made sure of that, slaying anyone who survived the impact upon the rocks.

  “Aye,” Tibbet said, warming to his tale. “They battle amongst themselves for the spoils they can steal from a ship.”

  “Wraith’s men fight each other?”

  “No, they fight with anyone else who tries to claim cargo.” He lowered his voice. “Some of the wreckers have not come back to St. Gundred afterwards. Just vanished into the mist.”

  Helen’s face became ashen, and Sian guessed her own was as colorless. She sent the footman on his way with thanks for his assistance and an assurance that neither she nor Helen required anything more before breakfast, and, yes, they would ring for him if they changed their minds.

  As Helen closed the door behind him, Sian saw her maid’s fingers quiver.

  “Go to bed, Helen,” she said quietly, clasping her own hands before anyone noticed how they shook. “I can unpack what I need for tonight, and then we sha
ll deal with the rest tomorrow after breakfast.”

  “Are ye sure? I would be glad to ready yer clothes for ye.” A yawn belied her words.

  “Go to bed. If you do not, you may fall face first onto the floor and become lost in the tangle of vines woven into the carpet.”

  A weary smile lightened her expression. “That would not be good, Miss Nethercott. Thank ye for yer thoughtfulness. If ye need anything, call me.”

  “I shall,” she replied, even though she had no intention of doing so.

  Helen walked to a second door. When she opened it, there was a good view of the empty dressing room and the maid’s room beyond it. She paused in the doorway. “Will ye be able to sleep tonight?”

  “I doubt even a full battalion of wreckers could keep me awake.” She forced a smile.

  “‘Tis not a full battalion that worries me. ‘Tis only the one man.”

  Once the door had closed behind her maid, Sian sank onto the chaise longue and hid her face in her hands. Any icy chill gnawed at her bones even as her skin recalled Wraith’s strong hands and his lips which had lit something unexpected deep within her. What a muddle she had made of her arrival at Bannatyne Hall! She must take care not to be so unmindful again of the dangers along the shore. She had come from Yorkshire to begin anew, promising herself that she would think before she spoke, consider before she acted, pause before she reacted. . .and she had broken all those pledges when she stood before Wraith. She must make those vows anew—and keep the vows from this point forward—even if she met Wraith again. She must remember that he was a murderer as well as a thief and a bounder.

  Such an oath should have been easy to swear and easy to imagine keeping. It should have been, but it was many hours before she could stop trembling enough to sleep.

  * * * *

  Mrs. Jenkin was a large woman, not only in size, but in voice. Her warm alto resonated through the Hall like bells calling monks to matins. She did not scold Sian for asking the footman not to wake her, but she made it clear that such a request was unreasonable. Sian suspected it was because the housekeeper wanted to be the first to know everything that happened in the house, on the grounds, and even in the village.