He nodded, sagging against her in relief as she voiced what he had been thinking all along, but had rejected as a mere way to whitewash his guilt.
"So tell him, Will. Tell him the truth."
"I will. But not about—" He stopped himself.
"I heard that too. The cave. Our cave. Now I know why you were so insistent that I should keep it a secret."
"Do you hate me?" he asked quietly.
She cupped his cheek for a loving kiss. "No, never. I can't blame you for the way you feel, any more than I can blame the Teagues for despising the Lynches. Bigotry and idealism are not things that can be wiped out overnight. And I know you well enough to be certain that you're acting on the best principles, not selling your country for thirty pieces of silver."
He rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head. "The honest truth of the matter is that I don't want to get Parks killed."
She shifted to face him now, her gaze intent. "What is it you think you see, darling?"
He closed his eyes. After a time he said, "I can see us standing side by side. Me shooting him, I think. A musket ball ripping through him."
"But you would never—"
He took her hand and squeezed her fingers hard. "I haven't been sure of anything since I came back to Ireland except about falling in love with you, and this vision. Please believe me."
"I do," she said, soothing his brow with her other hand. "But I also agree with Vevina. You can't be sure. Besides, shot doesn't mean dead. Look at your shoulder."
"You cured most of that. Every time you touched me there was a searing pain, then bliss."
"Was that what happened when I fainted the night of the wine tasting? Or the day on the beach at the picnic?"
He shrugged slightly. "I'm not sure. I think so."
She laughed shakily, and cradled his head against her shoulder. "I was so scared. I thought that perhaps you had, er, after all, and I might be pregnant." She blushed.
"No, my innocent darling, I never did." He smiled at her and stroked her cheek lovingly. "A failing on my part that I'm going to rectify as soon as possible. As soon as the doctor tells me you're well, and I see you back to your old self again."
"That's going to be a while yet. My hair is still so short."
"It rather suits you. But no, I don't think I can wait quite that long, dearest."
She kissed him until he picked her up from the window seat and brought her over to the bed. Amid the tumbled covers he trembled and writhed under her, and at last had to get up from the bed and unfasten his constricting trousers.
"No, not yet—" he gasped as she reached for him.
"Please?"
"Soon. It can't be now. I want our night to be special."
"Well, there is my birthday coming up," she said with a sultry look that would have made a lesser man yield at once.
"And the New Year," he said, his eyes taking on a bright golden sheen for a moment.
"Yes."
He nodded. "Yes."
He rose now, and adjusted the sheets and quilts in the bed around her. "Rest now, love. We have much to do before then."
"We do. Go on, now. You've spent enough time looking after me. Go take care of your business, and I'll see you soon."
"I love you, my dearest wife."
"And I you, my darling husband."
He kissed her thoroughly, and dragged himself out of the room to tend to his most pressing errands at last, his whole body humming with joy, and his mind more peaceful than it had been in years.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Certain Elizabeth was out of danger at last, Will left the sickroom for more than a few moments for the first time in weeks in order to go in search of Parks. Once he found him, they were able to clear the air at once, as only true friends ever could, though Will still didn't tell him about the muskets.
"Listen, Parky," he said at the end of his explanation, "I know I've been acting oddly. I'm sorry if I haven't been as good a friend to you as I should. I've just been so worried about my wife. Will you forgive me?"
He offered his hand at once. "Quite all right, old chap. I know, I understand what you must have been going through. It put years on you nearly losing her. But you have so much more in your life now. There's nothing to forgive, Will."
He cleared his throat, and said, "But there's the whole issue with Rosaria as well. We should have discussed it before. Vevina is right. I could have handed you my rifle. I didn't have to do it myself. I could have trusted you to make the shot. After all, you've always been my best pupil.
"But I had to make sure. I couldn't let her be raped and tortured. I couldn't let her betray all our secrets, and jeopardize our whole mission and everything we had ever worked for to bring the war to an end at last."
"I understand, really, I do." He patted Will on his good shoulder.
"You have nothing to ever blame yourself for, Geoffrey, and I'm sorry if I've ever made you feel as though you had. It was my choice, and I would do the same in a second. I was only bitter, guilty, because I was relieved she was gone," he confessed.
"Relieved?" Parks said in surprise.
Will nodded, and swallowed hard. He admitted raggedly, "The plain truth is that my marriage was hell. She hated me, feared all men. She was deranged by all that had happened to her. I doubt she ever would have been whole again. If they had, well-- It would have been too horrible for her to bear, already damaged as she was. I can see that now."
To Will's surprise, Parks merely nodded wisely. "I think I understand. I saw you together. What you had with your first wife in no way compares with what you have now with Elizabeth"
"I hope to God you never do understand, Geoffrey. A lack of love kills." He shook his head. "But I have Elizabeth now. And when we finally manage to, well, it will be heaven on earth."
"I sure hope it will be when I finally manage to--"
Will flashed him a grin. "Why, Parky, do you mean to say—"
"I am saving myself for the right woman," he said primly.
Will shook his head. "I was so lusty by the time I met Rosaria that I made the mistake of thinking she was the right woman. Don't make the same error."
"I won't," Parks said with conviction. "Watching you and your sister so in love with your spouses, I think I know all the ingredients of a good solid marriage by now, and it will be that or nothing for me. I just have to find the right woman, woo her and win her. Pity you haven't got a younger sister. Or Elizabeth."
"No such luck, lad. But one day soon, I'm sure."
"If I live that long." Parks gave a laugh, and patted Will on the back.
Will touched the torc around his neck and wished with all his heart that he would.
A few days later, Fitzsimmons was fuming as though deranged himself. "What do you mean, they're both well? They fell out a window a few weeks ago! They're supposed to be dead!"
His informant shrugged. "I know. But I saw them with my own eyes. Down in the parlor, singing."
"The bastard must have nine lives! It's not as if we haven't tried to kill him often enough in the past three years. We even duped that silly bitch of a first wife of his to get him to try to rescue her and get those guns. Only he didn't rescue her, did he? That brat Parks or one of his other men shot her."
"I'd worry more about Jason Davenport, Alexander as he's known now," his colleague cautioned. "He knows us all by sight. Knows what we did. Not to mention Thomas Eltham. I thought he would have remembered me for certain. He saw us near Samuel Fitzgerald's tent just before the whole melee at Cuidad Roderigo. He and his friends should have been killed then also."
"Paxton was a fool," Fitzsimmons said dismissively. "But our other friends, now…"
"Are they ready?"
Fitzsimmons nodded. "They'll be here soon."
"It's about time."
"Everyone in London was looking for them when they broke out of Newgate. They had to lie low for a while. The London cell is still alive and well precisely because they don't act h
astily."
"Well, except for-"
"Never mind that now," he growled. "As soon as we find those guns, we give the order."
"Shouldn't we wait?"
Fitzsimmons gave his companion a hard, appraising stare. "Awfully patient of you all of a sudden."
His comrade shrugged. "Haste can make waste. I'm as eager as you are. As soon as you get what you want, I get what I want. A free Ireland. I just want to make sure we don't act to hastily and ruin our chances."
The two sized each other up for a brief moment.
"And you, Fitzsimmons? What do you want out of all this?" he dared to ask.
He smirked. "For starters, the houses of everyone whoever looked down on me around here, and that little Eltham whore to warm my bed. Which means her husband's head on a pike when the invasion comes. And why not Parks' head as well, as long as I'm making a list? After that, it shall be as His Imperial Majesty wills."
"As soon as we find those guns. I promise. Just make sure all your people are ready."
"Don't worry. We're more than ready. In fact, I can't wait." He rubbed his hands together with glee. For even more than the money and wealth, his hands itched to possess Elizabeth, and bring the little bitch to her knees. And any other position he fancied...
Chapter Thirty
Autumn came to Ardmore, bringing with it air so crisp Will thought he could bite it. All Hallow's Eve dawned a bit blustery, but Will had promised to take Elizabeth to Waterford for her birthday.
"We can shop all day, and stay at a hotel overnight, and have a bit of privacy from our barrage of house guests."
"We could just tell them to go home," she suggested mildly. "We're well now, after all."
He sighed. "I have to admit to being frightened. The idea of living with just you and not an entire battalion is just too odd at the minute."
She nodded and gave him a loving smile. "I understand."
Will shook his hand. "I'm not so sure you do. Sometimes I envy Parks his certainty, his career. It was his destiny, from the moment he was born. Perhaps I should take up my commission again--"
Elizabeth shook her head. "No, my love, you're not a career soldier and you know it. You fought for the principle of the thing, not because following orders is your way of life. You were a scholar, a good landlord. You will be again one day."
They curled up in the carriage to try to stay snug and warm, but the wind swirled mercilessly around the vehicle, until the horses hardly dared to move forward, they were so spooked.
Will heaved a sigh. "Give me your shawls, darling. I shall blinker them. Perhaps they'll be less fractious then."
She did as he asked and he began to get out. The carriage door swung open with a crash as the wind caught it.
"Be careful," she called, clutching her bonnet with one hand and the throat of her coat with the other.
Will waved. He approached the first horse, and tied the shawl on. But the second one reared, his great hooves only inches from Will's head.
"Will, watch out!"
The carriage began to move forward, and Elizabeth jumped out and into Will's arms as the coach driver vainly tried to rein the beasts in.
"Good Lord, Elizabeth, you shouldn't have--"
"The horse was bolting. It would have been more dangerous to have remained inside," she explained as she watched the coach careen away from them and off into the distance, with the coachman shouting, "Whoa!" all the way, to no avail.
"He'll come back for us when he can."
"I bet he's half way to Waterford already," he grumbled, gathering her close.
"I'm fine, Will, not to worry."
"But the storm look as though it will be here at any moment," he said, pointing to the louring clouds behind them.
"We'll find a cottage somewhere."
They looked around, and smiled ruefully. It was a particularly bleak stretch of road.
"There was nothing behind us for miles. So let's keep going."
"Aye," she agreed readily. "I could use a good walk after being so confined for so many weeks. Perhaps we'll catch up with Griffiths and the team soon."
"Maybe," he said, though he looked as doubtful as he sounded.
"Don't worry, darling. All will be well. We're safe here in Ireland and together, after all. What's the worst thing that can happen?"
"Aye, you're right as usual, wife."
She took his hand and trudged on. Yet after walking for some time, they had still found nothing.
"Those clouds look pretty ominous," Will said with a grim glance over his shoulder. "We really need to find shelter, Elizabeth."
"Where's a good cave when you need one?" she said with a pert smile.
He wrapped his arms more tightly around her and they struggled up the road against the battering wind for another five minutes until he pointed.
"Look, a slate roof. Over there."
"Good."
"Can you make it, or do you want me to carry you?"
She laughed and shook her head. "I've never felt better."
Another five minutes brought them to a curious low-roofed structure in the shape of a triangle. Will wrapped on the wooden door in the middle of one wall and waited.
They looked at each other and he tried again.
"Do we dare go in?"
By way of answer, hail began to pour down out of the sky.
Will swung open the door in an instant and ushered his wife in hurriedly. They ran over to the hearth, and warmed themselves, listening to the hailstones pound on the roof overhead.
"Just in time. I hope they don't mind--"
"I'm sure they'll understand, given the weather. They probably headed out for a visit or something and got caught themselves,and decided to stay wherever they were to wait until the storm passed."
She shook out her coat and bonnet, watching the hailstones bounce and hiss into the fire. She would have run her fingers through her hair, but halted as she felt the mere stubble from where they had had to shave her head after her accident.
Will caught her chagrined look, and kissed her on the bristles. "It will grow again, and you've never looked more lovely to me than you do now, alive and well, and all the secrets of the past put behind us."
"Thank you, darling."
When they were warm they decided to explore the hut further. It was much larger than at first glance from the outside, and there was a water pump and tub and sink in one corner, next to the long wall which held the fireplace.
Opposite the fire was the table, and adjacent to it a surprisingly clean and comfortable looking feather bed. There was a goodly spread of food on the table, including fresh bread, meat and cheese, honey and wild strawberry preserves, with freshly churned butter and cream. On the hearth a pot was simmering gently over a peat fire.
Will lifted the lid of the cauldron carefully.
"Mmm, rabbit stew. It smells divine."
"It does. And look, some wine, ale, and water."
"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm famished." He clinked a generous number of gold coins down upon the table. "Whoever lives here must have got called out into the fields for an emergency. But I'm sure he'll understand two weary and hungry travellers needing to take their ease."
She took the two pewter charges from off the table where they had been set.
"Two people live here. Two plates," she noted.
"Two brothers? Both farmers out trying to cover their potato drills or something, perhaps, or tend to the livestock before the storm hit?" he guessed aloud as he stirred the pot.
"We'll leave enough for them to have something if they come back."
"Aye, there seems to be plenty."
He ladled the hot food onto the pewter dishes she had brought over, then removed their damp cloak and coat to spread them in front of the fire to dry.
He banked up the fire from the full creel of turf which was sitting nearby the hearth, and joined her at the table. They said Grace, and Will made his usual toast.
"Don't
you save that for special occasions?"
"Your birthday is one. And so is All Hallow's Eve, of course. We need to go to Church tomorrow to remember the souls of the dead."
She nodded. "Aye, indeed. And to thank the powers that be for all our blessings."
The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection Volume 2 Page 56