A Brother's Honor

by Ferguson, Jo Ann

  “I know.” She lowered her gaze from his eyes that seared her with their ebony fires. She added nothing else as she hurried out of the room before he asked her to be as honest. Then she might have to admit that she wanted him, too, but not just for a night. She feared her heart wanted to belong to this French pirate for a lifetime.

  Chapter Ten

  “Oh, you are busy …”

  Dominic lowered the towel he had been using to dry his hair. Looking over his shoulder, he started to smile, then realized Abigail did not stand there. The thick towel had betrayed his ears, because the woman’s voice did not belong to Abigail.

  This woman was older than Abigail by a decade. The first hints of silver frosted her black hair around her face, giving it a bright glow. Her gown was a sedate cream, but the fabric flowed with elegance as she did not wait for his invitation to sit. Raising her quizzing glass, she peered through it.

  He closed his robe over his breeches. He had not intended to receive callers here. Receive callers. He laughed silently at the thought. This elegant house was having a decidedly civilizing effect on him. No doubt, Abigail would be amused to see this. However, his work in the past had taken him from the highest reaches of society to the lowest, and he had to learn to blend in so completely that nobody would take more note of him than he wished.

  “Never too busy,” Dominic said, bowing his head toward the woman, “to stop and speak with a lovely lady.”

  “Bah!” She waved her hand at him. “Save your nothing-sayings for your wife, Mr. St. Clair.”

  “You seem to have the better of me, madam, for I do not have the privilege of knowing your name when you seem well-acquainted with mine.”

  She held out her hand, which was decorated with only a single ring. That told him she came from a wealthy family that had been in control of its riches for many generations. She did not need the pretensions of the nouveau riche.

  He was glad she had chosen a chair close to where he stood. That way, he did not have to lurch across the room like a new crewman who had not yet gotten his sea legs. His ankle was not as swollen this morning, but he wanted no sign of his weakness to betray him to this woman who, no matter what she had to say, was his enemy.

  Dominic bowed over her hand as she said, “I am Lady Herbert Sudley, Mr. St. Clair. You have met my daughter and son, I believe.”

  “I have had the honor.” He hoped his smile hid his amazement that the younger lady had failed to mention that her mother was alive and had not corrected their mistake in addressing her as “Lady Sudley.” The urge to smile grew. Mayhap the young woman had enjoyed being treated with the deference due a peer’s wife instead of his daughter.

  “I would say, Mr. St. Clair, that the honor was theirs.” She folded her hands in her lap and regarded him with brown eyes that suggested she would endure no flummery. “This family is greatly indebted to you for your bravery in stepping forward and halting that knight of the pad from relieving Clarissa and Newton of their valuables and mayhap even their lives.”

  “I was there.”

  Lady Sudley nodded, and he knew the matter would not be spoken of again today. It was the honor of a gentleman to risk his life for a lady, even if she was not of his acquaintance. He suspected Lady Sudley would expect nothing less from those of her class. If so, he knew from his past relations with the ton that she was due for disappointment. He had discovered more honor among his men on La Chanson de la Mer than among the Polite World.

  “Clarissa did do one thing correctly, Mr. St. Clair. I want you to know that you and your wife are welcome to be our guests for as long as you wish.” A flush showed through the rice powder on Lady Sudley’s cheeks. “She hinted that your circumstances were not the best.”

  “An understatement.” Glad that Abigail was not here, he let his smile uncurl along his lips. “When the ship we were on went down, so did everything but the clothes we were wearing. I have contacts in London who can provide what we need to continue on our journey.”

  “London?” Lady Sudley’s smile was as cool as her exterior. “We leave for there at the end of the week to join my husband at our house in Town. You and your wife must allow us to take you there.”

  “You are too kind, my lady.”

  “On the contrary, Mr. St. Clair, it is little in exchange for saving my wayward children.”

  “Wayward?” he asked, unable to halt himself.

  Lady Sudley rose gracefully. Her smile contained a hint more warmth. “Neither Clarissa nor Newton had permission to be out so late last night. Their father will tend to the task of giving them a punishment commensurate with their absentmindedness. ’Tis my pleasure to have the task of making you and Mrs. St. Clair welcome.” She glanced about the room. “Where is Mrs. St. Clair?”

  Dominic knew he could not hesitate in his answer. “She is still asleep. When I woke, I came in here so I would not disturb her. This has all been most traumatic for her, as I am sure you can understand.”

  “You prove your kindness over and over, Mr. St. Clair.”

  He gave her a smile, not sure if there was a deeper meaning to her words. Discovering what this woman was thinking was almost as difficult as trying to determine what was on Abigail’s mind. Yet, with Abigail, he could taste the truth on her soft lips and know that she hungered, as he did, for more than a kiss.

  The connecting door between the rooms opened slowly. Dominic’s smile became more comfortable on his face as Abigail stepped in. She must have heard their voices from the other room and known better than to knock or peer around the door like a fearful child.

  In spite of himself, he could not silence the sharp intake of breath as he stared at her when she stood in front of a tall window. The morning sunshine set her hair to blazing. In her dress of the palest green, she possessed a cool serenity that contrasted with the fire he knew burned within her.

  “Good morning,” Abigail said as she crossed the room to stand beside him.

  He kissed her cheek, for to do more in front of their hostess would be considered rude. Again the temptation to laugh taunted him. How offended the lady would be if he whirled Abigail into his arms and claimed her mouth and the pleasure waiting there for him! Again his breath caught as he raised his head and saw the silver glitter of yearning in her blue eyes.

  Dominic looked at Lady Sudley before he could no longer resist his craving to have Abigail in his arms. “Abigail, chérie, this is our hostess, Lady Sudley.”

  “Lady Sudley?” Abigail’s forehead threaded with confusion. “But—”

  “We met Lady Sudley’s daughter last night.” He watched the puzzlement in her eyes become understanding and let the breath he had been holding hiss past his lips as Abigail greeted Lady Sudley prettily. He could not have asked for a better conspirator in this masquerade than Abigail. Her naïveté might be her best asset in dealing with the Sudley family, because she had to depend on him instead of arguing with him as she usually did.

  “Lady Sudley has offered,” Dominic added when the women had completed their greetings, “to let us travel with the family when they visit London at the week’s end.” He laughed. “That saves our tired feet the rest of the journey.”

  “How is your ankle today?” Abigail asked.

  “Ankle?” Lady Sudley repeated before Dominic could reply.

  He wished Abigail had waited to ask that question. Then he let his shoulders ease from their stiffness. Yes, he was among his enemies, but he must not act as if he were. Quietly he said, “I hurt it when the ship went down.”

  “And exacerbated it when you saved my unthinking children.” Lady Sudley tapped her finger against her lips, then said, “I shall have several of Lord Sudley’s favorite walking sticks delivered to you posthaste. Then you can use one when you join us in the breakfast-parlor.”

  “Thank you, my lady.” He recognized her words as the order they were. “I appreciate your unending kindness.”

  “As I said, we are in your debt.” She went to the door and, opening i
t, said, “Cook’s biscuits are best eaten warm.”

  Dominic restrained his laugh until Lady Sudley had closed the door and her footfalls had vanished along the hallway. Sitting, he grimaced. He balanced his aching ankle on his other knee.

  “Your pride will keep that from healing,” Abigail said, folding her arms in front of her.

  “Do not chide me, chérie.”

  “Why not? You have wasted no time in reminding me of my shortcomings any time I did something you consider foolish.” She went to the ewer and dampened a cloth. The water was no longer hot, but even a tepid cloth might ease the swelling. Kneeling, she placed the cloth on his ankle that was still an ominous collection of colors.

  “But you were foolish not to heed me on the ship.” He put his hand over hers holding the cloth in place.

  She looked up at him. “You were my enemy.”

  “Were?”

  “Don’t try to trip me the double because of a simple word.” She rose.

  “I missed you last night, chérie,” he murmured. “I have grown accustomed to listening to your soft breathing during the night and, in the morning, discovering your pretty face so close to me and waking you with a kiss.”

  “I missed that, too.”

  “You did?” He had not guessed she would say this. He had thought she would demur as she usually did when he spoke of the ache within him to be within her.

  “Yes.” Her fingers curved along his face.

  The cloth struck the floor with an odd sound as he stood and slipped his arm around her. Her soft moan as he found her lips sent a fierce need through him. Pulling her up against him, he deepened the kiss, wanting to possess every inch of her mouth. The fiery flush flowed over him as, with a tender, demanding pressure, he urged her to cede herself to their craving. When her tongue brushed his, a lightning thrill of ecstasy cut through him. It teased his, daring him to give free rein to his longings.

  Although she was soft against him, he exulted in his leisurely exploration of the moist recesses of her mouth. Her fingers sifted up through his hair as her breath burned fast into his mouth. He sought the source of that heat as he peppered her neck with eager longing.

  A sound intruded. Dominic tried to ignore it, but the knocking at the door grew rapid and loud, warning him that he had not noticed it right away.

  Abigail drew out of his arms and went to the door. She looked back at him before she opened it. Again he savored the sheen of her gaze that caressed him as eagerly as her fingers had.

  When she opened the door to allow a maid to bring in a half-dozen walking sticks, Dominic knew he had not been wrong about Abigail longing for him as he longed for her. He did not intend to wait much longer to persuade her that, at last, she was making the right decision.

  “Why are we stopping here?” Abigail asked, looking out of the carriage window. She recognized the village with its small collection of houses on either side of a church. It was the village near where the Republic had been destroyed. More than one of these houses had been her target when she had stolen food so she and Dominic would not starve. If someone had seen her and she was now recognized … She shuddered. Why had Dominic asked her to come with him here today in the carriage he had borrowed from the Sudleys? “Let’s keep going.”

  “No, I have an errand that needs to be done.” Dominic did not wait for the footman to open the door. He pushed it aside and stepped out, striding away. He looked every inch a gentleman from his well-made black coat to his embroidered vest to his carved walking stick.

  Abigail followed until he went through an iron gate around the churchyard. She hesitated. Why was he going to the church? Wrapping her arms around herself, although the day was warm and the breeze off the sea was as gentle as a child’s caress, she looked around the village. Two women were standing in front of a cottage at the end of the village closer to the sea. Their heads were bent toward each other, and she could hear their excited voices, although not the specific words. She guessed they were simply curious why such a grand carriage was in their simple village.

  Hearing Dominic mutter something inappropriate for a churchyard, Abigail looked back at him. She put her hand on the iron gate as she watched him pause and rotate his right foot as if trying to ease a cramp. He hobbled toward the church, his walking stick accenting each step. When he turned toward the cemetery beside the church, she tightened her grip on the gate until the uneven paint cut into her palm.

  The cemetery? His errand was there?

  He opened the smaller gate and looked at her. It did not matter that they were not standing face-to-face. The fires in his determined eyes seared her. This was the expression worn by the inimitable Captain St. Clair when he commanded the Republic and the seas. He would not be defeated by anything. Not by his enemies, not by the storm, not by the ship exploding.

  Slowly he raised his hand. She said nothing as she went to place her fingers in it. He might have vowed not to be defeated, but she sensed his disquiet. Was it the same as what flooded her to be in this place again when they had struggled so hard to flee from it?

  “Thank you,” Dominic said quietly.

  “Thank you? For what?”

  “For standing beside me now, chérie.” He took a deep breath and released it as he gazed at the stones that were being scoured by the sea wind’s constant battering. “It takes a braver man than I to face what waits within this stone wall.”

  “You are afraid of graves?”

  “Afraid that I shall never forgive myself for not foreseeing the disaster that left my men dead.” He sighed as he went to where the grass had been shoveled aside. Dropping to his knee, he patted the overturned earth and sighed. “Now they lie here beneath English soil, unmarked and unmourned, save by me.”

  Abigail’s eyes grew wide as she looked from his stern face to the newest graves in the cemetery. Biting her lip, she wondered if her father’s crew was buried here, too. Her heart cramped as she thought of Cookie and how he had saved her life by giving her warning to leave the ship. In the past few days, she had not thought of him at all as she struggled to help Dominic reach London and to keep Dominic from luring her into his arms.

  “How did you know they were here?” she whispered.

  He put his hand on her shoulder as he heaved himself to his feet. Leaning on the silver-tipped walking stick, he sighed. “Where else would they be? The villagers took the bodies from the sand. You saw that, too, although you said nothing to me of it at the time.”

  “I did not want to distress you.” She shivered. “I had feared that the sea had reclaimed them.”

  “No. The villagers were kind enough to take them and bring them here for a decent burial. Of course, they had no idea where the corpses belonged.”

  “Do you?” asked a deeper voice from behind them.

  Abigail whirled to see a tall man who appeared as broad as the church. His clothes and hair were the same funereal shade, save for his reversed, white collar. When Dominic put his hand on her arm, she wanted to tell him that he need not warn her about speaking carelessly. She had no idea what to say.

  “Do we what?” Dominic smiled and held out his other hand. “Are you the reverend here?”

  “Yes. I am Mr. Hallock,” he said, shaking Dominic’s hand. “Do you know where these corpses belong?”

  “They belong to the crew of the ship that we sailed on.” Dominic glanced at Abigail, then back at the minister. “We may have been the only survivors when it exploded offshore here after we were sent far off course by a storm.”

  “It was horrible,” Abigail said, knowing she must say something. “As you can see, Dominic was hurt. He has to depend on a cane to help him walk now, but both of us are healing.” She did not have to feign the sob that bubbled up from her heart as she looked at the unmarked graves, wondering again which one held Cookie’s corpse. “We are so grateful for what was done here, Mr. Hallock.”

  “Yes.” Dominic drew a small bag from beneath his coat and pressed it into the minister’s h
and. “Please see that those who helped with the burials are compensated for their work.”

  “You are very generous, sir,” the minister said, clearly amazed at the offer.

  “We are simply very grateful to be alive.” He smiled at Abigail.

  She could not smile in return. Where had Dominic gotten that bag that clicked with coins? She wanted to ask him, but she could not when the minister would hear the question.

  “Would you like to join me in the parsonage?” Mr. Hallock asked. “It is nearly time for tea.”

  “Thank you, but no,” Abigail replied quickly. This was too uncomfortable, and she did not want Dominic agreeing simply to gather more information about the coast. “We need to return to Sudley Hall posthaste.”

  “Sudley Hall?” The minister appraised them anew.

  “We are Lady Sudley’s guests,” Dominic said, his smile never wavering.

  “Are you the gentleman who rescued Lady Sudley’s youngsters from that highwayman?” He did not give Dominic a chance to answer. “I pray that you have persuaded him to perpetrate his crimes elsewhere. We have had a rash of robberies here lately. Small things missing. A pie or a few eggs. It appears the cur has taken to greater crimes than what he had before.”

  Abigail hoped her wide-brimmed bonnet would hide any hint of the color she knew must be flashing up her cheeks. When Dominic drew her hand within his arm and bade the minister a good day, she was sure she said something, but she could not recall the words after they had left her lips.

  As Dominic handed her into the carriage, Abigail sat and stared straight ahead. She did not shift her eyes even when he sat beside her, closed the door, and slapped the carriage to signal the coachman to return them to Sudley Hall.

  His arm around her shoulders turned her toward him. “I borrowed the money in that bag from Lady Sudley.”

  “Oh.”

  “To pay for markers for the graves. I did not want them to go unnoted in this land they hated so desperately.” He sighed as he had by the graves.