He held up a hand to cut off whatever defense each woman was going to make of her behavior. “As of today, you’re both dismissed. I will provide enough severance pay to keep you from starving, but you may be sure I’ll relate this unpardonable behavior to whoever might be foolish enough to employ you in the future. Now get out of my sight.”
When both women—along with the cook and her helper—were gone from the kitchen, Blackthorne sank into a chair and dropped his head in his hands. He’d fired the women responsible, but he was really the one responsible for his nephews’ plight. Their poor treatment was all his fault. And only he could make it right. He had to find Spencer and Clay and bring them to live at Blackthorne Abbey with him and his wife. If he could find her…and she still respected him enough to continue living with him.
Blackthorne made a frustrated sound in his throat. It wasn’t only his wife’s respect he wanted. He wanted her love.
First, he had to find the three of them. Then he could apologize. For everything. And promise to do better in the future. And hope that words would be enough to convince them to forgive him—and to come home with him.
He wondered where Josie might have taken the boys. Had they really gone on a picnic? He doubted it. If he was sure of anything, it was that she wasn’t coming back here. No, she was headed…Where? Where would she go?
Blackthorne felt a shiver run down his spine. She wouldn’t dare leave England. Not without asking his permission.
Yes, she would. It’s exactly the sort of thing she would do. She has a whole family in America that she’s been separated from for two years. She’s Spencer and Clay’s aunt-by-marriage. And Berwick-upon-Tweed is a port where ships leave every day for ports around the world.
His throat constricted painfully. Now, when he might have lost her forever, the truth hit him like an arrow to the heart.
Dear God in heaven. I love her.
He had to find her and beg her to stay. If it wasn’t too late. If she was willing to hear what he had to say. He headed back to Berwick-upon-Tweed at a gallop, his heart in his throat, wondering whether his wife’s ship was still in the harbor or had sailed away with the tide.
THE INSTANT THE ship left the docks, Josie realized she’d made a terrible mistake. She grabbed the arm of the closest sailor and cried, “I have to get off this ship. Please, we have to turn around and go back!”
“Sorry, miss. Once the captain sets sail, there’s no turnin’ back.”
Josie fought back a sob of regret, as she staggered to the rail. What had she done? She hadn’t realized how she truly felt about Blackthorne until it dawned on her that she might never see him again. She loved him. And she’d left without even telling him goodbye.
She rubbed her thumb across the gold band that held the Blackthorne ruby on her finger. There hadn’t been time to leave it safely behind. It was coming with her to America. If Blackthorne wanted it back, he would have to come after her to get it. She wondered if that was why she’d kept it on her finger, to give him a reason to come after her.
She’d made her escape with the duke’s nephews, all right, but she felt sick at heart as she watched the flickering lights of the town receding from view.
The two boys were sleeping soundly in tiered bunks in a stateroom belowdecks. For them, sailing to America was a great adventure. Her only uncomfortable moment had come after she’d settled them both in bed, when Spencer asked, “When is Uncle Marcus joining us?”
Josie had hesitated only a moment before telling the truth. “He isn’t coming.”
“Why not?”
He wasn’t invited. “He’s very busy fixing up Blackthorne Abbey. It’s been neglected for many years and needs a great deal of work.”
“What you mean is we’re too much work,” Spencer muttered.
She’d tucked Clay in, then rose and stood next to Spencer’s head, speaking in a voice only he could hear. “Your uncle loves you. I’m sure he does. He’s been very sad at the loss of his wife. And very unhappy because it seemed for a long time that everything he valued, all the Blackthorne lands and properties, would be forfeited because his father—”
She cut herself off as she was about to say “and your father.” Instead she finished, “Had run up a great many debts. That’s why Uncle Marcus left you so long at Tearlach Castle, not because he didn’t love you.”
“So why didn’t Uncle Marcus ever come to see us?”
Josie didn’t have an explanation or excuse for Blackthorne’s behavior, so she didn’t make one. “The good news is that I was able to use my fortune to help your uncle pay his debts and begin repairs at the Abbey. Now there will always be a place for you and Clay to live, whenever you’re in England.”
“So why are we going to America?” Spencer asked.
“Because my eldest sister is very sick, and I want to see her before…”
Josie didn’t complete her sentence, because she didn’t want to put into words what might happen to Miranda. She kissed Spencer’s forehead and said, “You need to sleep. When you wake up in the morning, you and Clay can come up on deck, and we’ll watch the wind fill the sails and blow us across the sea.”
“Good night, Aunt Josie.”
“Good night, Spencer. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
She’d waited until both boys were asleep before she’d gone up on deck, arriving just in time to see that they were underway, to panic at what she’d done, and to make a fruitless plea to turn the ship around.
Josie stepped to the rail and listened to the wind in the flapping sails, speeding them on their way. She shivered, and wrapped her wool scarf more tightly around her against the cold.
Except it wasn’t the night air that had chilled her to the bone. It was the knowledge that she’d left her heart behind in England. She heard Blackthorne’s whispered words lifting her up, telling her how strong she was, even as his protective arms held her close.
He wasn’t an easy man to love. Too proud. Too used to getting his own way. But somehow she’d fallen, deeply and surely, in love with him.
Her heart sank at the thought of what she’d left behind. And sank even further when she imagined what she might find when she got where she was going. She folded her hands on the rail, closed her eyes, and prayed, “Please fight to live, Miranda. Don’t give up. I need to see you again. I need to talk with you again. I need—”
“I need a wife. And you were about to rob me of her.”
Josie whirled at the sound of the beloved—and furiously angry—voice. “Marcus?” She clutched her scarf to her throat, suddenly frightened at the sight of a tall figure wearing a black cloak that whipped around him in the wind. It couldn’t be Marcus. She’d left him behind in England. “Who? What?”
“Don’t panic, my dear. It’s only me. Your wayward husband.”
“Marcus? Is it really you?” Josie felt a rush of joy so strong it brought tears to her eyes. “What are you doing here?”
“I think I should be asking you that.” He reached out and rescued a stray curl that had blown across her face, tucking it, as he always did, behind her ear.
She held herself still, aware that his angry voice was at odds with the tender gesture. “My sister Miranda is desperately ill. There wasn’t time to consult you before I left.”
“So you decided to grab my nephews and steal away on the first ship headed for America without a word of warning? Without saying goodbye or even good riddance?”
She ignored the pain she heard in his voice and asked, “How did you know I brought Spencer and Clay—”
“I know a great deal, my dear. I visited Tearlach Castle. Why didn’t you tell me what was going on there? I would have—”
“What would you have done, Marcus?” she interrupted. “Brought them to live with you?”
“I might have.”
“But you didn’t. In all the time I was at Tearlach Castle, you never once visited them. Why did you leave them to languish for so long? I’ve seen
that you’re a caring man. What happened? Why did you abandon them?” She met his gaze, surprised by the pain she saw in his eyes.
“To my shame, I have no excuse. Fanny discouraged me from visiting, but as it turned out, she simply didn’t want me to discover you were there.”
“I don’t understand. How did she know where I was?”
“Fanny was the architect of the Machiavellian scheme that resulted in your being held captive at the castle.”
Josie stared at him wide-eyed. “Fanny put me there? But why?”
He tightened the knot on the wool scarf she’d wrapped around her shoulders. “Because she knew how I felt about you.”
“How you felt? How did she even know I existed?”
“Because I told her how much I admired your defiance of someone who was determined to whip you to death. I made no secret of the fact that I was enchanted by the girl I’d rescued. She also knew she was dying. So she made a plan.”
Blackthorne’s eyes caressed her, while his hands found excuses to touch her.
Josie was entranced and spoke without being quite aware what she was saying. “A plan?”
“Fanny tucked you away at Tearlach Castle for safekeeping, so there would be a way for me to find you after she was gone. Seaton was supposed to tell me you were there, but when he realized I needed to marry an heiress, he decided to save me from myself and kept your whereabouts a secret.”
“Then the Pinkerton found me, and I came to London hoping there was some way I could rescue Spencer and Clay, and met you and—”
“Married me,” he finished. “Fanny was right about one thing.”
“What?”
“That, given a chance, I would fall in love with you.”
Josie shook her head. “You can’t love me. We barely know each other.”
“I’ve loved the idea of a woman like you for two years. It’s taken me only two weeks to fall in love with the woman I married.”
Josie’s heart skipped a beat. “You love me?”
“I do.”
She suddenly felt terrified of the choice she might be forced to make. “I’m still going to Texas to see my family. And I’m taking the boys.”
“How would you feel about my coming along?”
Tears of relief and joy brimmed in her eyes. She laid a hand against his chest as a way to reassure herself that this was really happening, that he was here and wanted to come to America with her. She opened her mouth to tell him how happy she was, but what came out was, “There’s no place in the stateroom for you to sleep.”
He twined one of her curls around his finger. “Spencer and Clay can share the stateroom. The captain loaned me his cabin, so we can finish our honeymoon.” He hesitated, released the curl, and said, “Assuming you care enough for me to want to finish our honeymoon.”
Josie was surprised that Blackthorne was giving her the choice. She lifted her chin and said, “I suppose you expect me to forgive you for your treatment of Spencer and Clay.”
“That would be nice. I don’t deserve their forgiveness—or yours—but I promise to take better care of them from now on. With your help, of course.”
“I suppose you expect me to say I love you. That you’ve turned my world upside down. That I’m head over heels for you.”
His lips curved in a cautious smile. “That would be even nicer.” He closed the distance between them and clasped her cold hands in his warm ones. “Do you? Have I? Are you?”
“You’re too arrogant.”
“Guilty.”
“And toplofty.”
“Guilty.”
“And stubborn.”
“Guilty.”
“And I love you more than—”
His mouth captured hers, as his arms bound them together. She was a prisoner once more, but this time, Josie had no wish to escape.
“I love you, Marcus.”
“I love you, too, darling. But I think I’m getting a little seasick up here on deck.”
Josie laughed. “You? The great Duke of Blackthorne? Seasick? I don’t believe it.”
“Laugh all you want, but I suggest that if you don’t want to see a demonstration of the matter, we retire to the captain’s cabin.”
Josie put her arm through Blackthorne’s and tugged him away from the rail. “Just keep saying ‘I will not be sick. I will not be sick.’ That’s been working for me.”
“I will not be sick. I will not be sick. I think it’s working.”
“Good. I don’t want to miss even one night of my honeymoon.”
“I will not be sick. I will not be sick. I will make love to my wife, instead.”
Josie laughed. “Faker!”
Blackthorne swept her in his arms and headed for the captain’s cabin.
“UNCLE MARCUS, WHAT is that?”
Josie followed Clay’s pointing finger to a brown-and-black brindle steer with horns that had to be six feet from end to end. It was proof, if she needed it, that they were nearing their destination, Jake and Miranda’s cattle ranch, Three Oaks.
Clay was sitting between Blackthorne and Josie on the bench seat of an open wagon they’d hired in San Antonio, while Spencer sat directly behind them on a keg of nails they’d agreed to deliver to the Creed ranch, because it would save a trip for the local dry goods merchant.
“Those cattle are called longhorns,” Blackthorne said, slipping an arm around the boy’s shoulder. “Can you guess why?”
Clay looked uncertain, but ventured, “Because their horns are so long?”
“Right!” Blackthorne said, pulling the boy close for a hug.
“That was a good guess, Clay,” Spencer said, adding his praise to their uncle’s. “I have another one for you, Uncle Marcus.”
“I’m listening.”
Josie never heard the question or the answer. All she heard was the trust in Spencer’s voice, and the love in Blackthorne’s. Even though they’d made the journey from England as fast as humanly possible, it had taken far too long. Long enough for Blackthorne to show her that he intended to be a better caretaker for his nephews than he’d been in the past. Long enough for her to fall even more deeply in love with him. Long enough for him to plant the seed for another generation of Blackthornes that was growing in her belly.
And more than long enough for Miranda to either succumb to childbed fever or recover completely.
Josie hadn’t tried to get in touch with anyone at the ranch during the journey, because she’d feared hearing bad news, and good news could wait. She’d merely prayed every day that her sister would get well and hoped that Miranda would be waiting with her new baby to greet them when they arrived.
In the distance, Josie could make out a large white house with columns and a second-story porch, the sort Southerners had built before the Civil War. The house was surrounded by live oaks. Three live oaks, to be precise. She could see people sitting in rockers on the lower porch. They had glasses in their hands. Iced tea? Lemonade?
She was suddenly aware of how long they’d been traveling since they’d left San Antonio, how hot it was, and how thirsty she was. And how there was no way she’d be able to swallow even a sip of anything cold, because her throat had swollen completely closed with fear.
“I think we’re here, Aunt Josie,” Spencer said, bouncing up and down in excitement in the back of the wagon.
“Sit down and sit still!” she said in a sharp voice.
Blackthorne shot her a questioning look, before he turned to Spencer and said, “You’re going to end up tumbling off this wagon before we get there, if you’re not careful.”
Josie was too anxious to apologize to Spencer. Too worried that the seemingly idyllic scene on the porch would turn out to be something entirely different. Like a wake.
“Can you see their faces?” she asked Blackthorne. “Can you tell if they’re happy?”
“They’re smiling!” Clay said. “They’re happy to see us.”
Josie put a hand above her eyes to shade them from the
sun, since her stylish hat provided no protection. “Are they really smiling, Marcus? Can you tell from here?”
“They’re grinning, sweetheart. From ear to ear.”
“They wouldn’t look like that if anything bad had happened, would they?” she asked anxiously.
“I don’t think so. But I’m English. Who knows what an American will do.”
Josie swatted him on the arm. “Don’t be mean.”
“I guess that bruising hit means you’re going to relax and enjoy the rest of the ride.”
Josie shot him a questioning look. “What do you mean?”
“You’ve been coiled up like a metal spring all morning. I was afraid you were going to shoot off that bench seat into the clouds at any moment.”
Josie laughed and realized how strange the sound felt. She tried it again, and it sounded more natural. Suddenly, she was laughing so hard tears were squeezing from her eyes.
“What’s so funny, Uncle Marcus?” Clay asked.
“Your aunt is imagining herself shooting off that bench into the sky like a firecracker.”
Clay joined in the laughter. “Aunt Josie is a firecracker!”
“No, she just sparkles like a firecracker,” Spencer quipped.
“She kisses like one, too,” Blackthorne chimed in.
“Stop picking on me,” Josie said, but she was laughing along with everyone else.
That happy picture was what her family saw when Josie arrived at Miranda and Jake’s front door. She sobered as Blackthorne drew the team to a halt, her gaze flitting from one familiar face to the next, skipping the strangers who stood or sat beside them.
Miranda was sitting in a rocker wrapped up in a blanket, even though it was a warm day, a babe in her arms. A stranger sat beside her in a matching rocker. Nick sat on the porch rail with Harry—no longer the sickly four-year-old she remembered—perched beside him. An old man in a wheeled chair sat with a young girl in his lap, neither of whom she recognized. Those must be Miranda’s new relatives.
Her glance skipped to a broad-shouldered man sitting on a hanging swing, with Hannah beside him. Hannah had a redheaded little girl in her lap, and she was pregnant. Beside them stood two people Josie didn’t recognize, but the man had features similar to Hannah’s husband, and the woman was stunningly beautiful. Josie’s gaze shot to Hetty, who’d been badly wounded the last time she’d seen her. Hetty was sitting in a woven, fan-backed chair with a baby in her arms. A plain-faced man stood with his arm possessively on the back of the chair. A younger woman and a young man Josie didn’t recognize sat on the porch steps nearby, along with a teenage boy.
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