Mary Blayney

by Traitors Kiss; Lovers Kiss

  The tension around the duke’s mouth eased, his eyes softened, his expression a silent acceptance as effective as his words of rage had been.

  “Please,” the duke said, certainly a rare gesture of courtesy, “come back and let us talk about how to secure the castle, how to protect not just Olivia but all the people who live here. You are right. Her life is worth more than our pride.” Meryon held out his hand. “Thank you for saving her. Without Olivia meddling in everyone’s life from kitchen to chapel, this would be no more than a place to eat and sleep and mourn. I owe you more than money. I owe you respect and honesty.”

  Michael accepted his hand, touched but also curious about the duke’s relationship with his wife and child. Olivia had said they were not in residence. Perhaps they spent all their time in London, he decided. This family was complex, if not downright secretive. Secrets might have been his specialty once but they were no longer his concern.

  More to the point, it seemed that the duke wanted his help. The man’s trust might only be given in increments, but this handshake marked the first step.

  “Would you wake up Olivia? I think her neck will ache enough to make a real bed appealing.” Meryon did not wait for an answer but stepped out the door, leaving it open.

  Obviously waking a sister was beneath a duke. Michael retraced his steps. He squatted until he was eye level with Olivia so that when she opened her eyes she would not see a man looming over her. He expected she would have nightmares about that as it was.

  “Olivia,” he whispered. “Olivia, sweet girl, wake up now.” He touched her arm just below the shoulder, where her cloak had slipped down. He felt the softness of her skin, the warmth of it, before she started awake.

  Thank God, the minute she recognized him the fear disappeared. She relaxed against the back of the chair. “Oh, you’re still here. I’m glad.” She smiled sleepily.

  “Yes, I’m still here.” It was an inane answer, but he could think of nothing else to say. Her sleepy eyes reached into his heart and warmed it. Her scent, cinnamon and spices, distracted him. He answered her smile with his own. “Did you dream?”

  “No dreams.” She closed her eyes and he felt abandoned. When she opened them again, she seemed more awake. “Maybe one dream. You and I on Troy, riding.” She shrugged. “That’s all.”

  “That would be an easy one to make come true.” He ran his hand down her arm and squeezed her hand.

  The duke was beside them now, watching. Olivia’s eyes shifted to him. “He is a good man, Lyn, is he not?”

  Michael did not wait for the duke to answer. “Your tea is here.” He had to clear his throat and repeat the sentence.

  Olivia raised a hand to her throat. “It feels better already.” Stretching, she stood, tottered a little and put a hand out for him to steady her. She plopped back down on the chair.

  Michael poured some of the special tea. Even though it was not much more than warm when she sipped it, Olivia sighed with relief.

  “Tea must be the greatest comfort ever invented.” She felt stupid the moment after she said it as it occurred to her that tea did not begin to compare to the comfort of being held in Mr. Garrett’s arms. Olivia consoled herself with another sip when she realized he had held her for the last time. “Mr. Garrett, you are not leaving tonight, are you?” She sent a pleading look to her brother who shook his head.

  “I trust he will accept our hospitality tonight at least.”

  “Oh, good. For I should like to prepare something special for him and give him a proper good-bye.” She gave him her best smile and a little giggle escaped as a mental image of what she would like that to be. Besides cinnamon buns. His lips twitched but Mr. Garrett did not smile back. The silence lengthened. Finally Lynford cleared his throat.

  “Olivia, Samuelson is back.” The duke offered her his hand to help her up. “He can go with you to your room and stay as a guard. It is time for all of us to be abed.”

  “Big Sam? He’s back. And safe?” She gulped the last of her tea, accepted her brother’s help and stood up with more confidence. She smoothed her dress and her hair as she rushed to the door. Michael felt a stab of resentment as she threw the door open and clapped her hands together.

  “Big Sam! How are you? You did not catch a chill, did you? The weather has turned so nasty.”

  “Not wet or cold, milady. I should be beaten for leaving you to walk home alone. I am going down to the stable and make the groom take a switch to me.”

  He was the biggest man Michael had ever seen. Not just tall, but massive in every way, with a head too small for his body and skin as pale as his hair. He had the ageless look of a fairy tale ogre. God forgive him, Michael was relieved.

  “If you had the groom beat you that would make me cry, Big Sam. It was not your fault. I was the one who would rush home and not wait for you. It was very kind of you to stay when Reverend Drummond asked.”

  “The vicar asked me to stay?” It looked as though Big Sam was having a hard time understanding her words. “Yes, milady, I should have known it was wrong. My job is to keep up with you. I don’t know much, milady, but I do know that. Lord David said the duke might dismiss me.”

  “No, he will not. We need only blame it on the horrible men who took me. They deserve a name even worse than stupid Galatians.”

  Big Sam nodded.

  “Peach thieves,” Olivia suggested.

  “Not my fault?” Sam asked as though the idea was taking root.

  “Never, Big Sam.”

  If Big Sam was an ogre, Olivia was the princess who charmed him.

  “Fish poachers, that’s what they are,” Sam suggested.

  “Grape apes,” Olivia said.

  They both laughed at that.

  “Good night, Mr. Garrett. Good night, dear brother. I will see you both tomorrow.” She gave her brother a quick curtsy, then turned back to give Big Sam her hand. He took it, not as a gentleman would, but as a child might, and the two of them walked down the hall.

  “Cook burned dinner,” Sam said with more disappointment than amusement. “She was that upset.”

  Michael closed the door slowly, recognizing envy as it evaporated. He wished he were the one holding her hand. It would never happen. Lady Olivia Pennistan was not, could not, be his. She was as sweet as a new kitten and he was anything but innocent. One kiss had proved that. To take more than that one kiss would undo any of the good he had done since he found her in the woods.

  24

  THE DUKE NODDED as the door closed on Big Sam’s story and began his own. “Samuelson has been her bodyguard since she was five. No one else could keep up with her. Even at five Olivia was given to impulse.”

  “Where did you ever find him? He is a giant, especially beside her.”

  “I am sure that is one of the reasons my father hired him. If you find Big Sam, you know where Olivia is.” The duke walked to the fire and stared at it. “Big Sam was an attraction at a May Day fair. My father stopped his keeper from beating the man. He was being treated like an animal.” The duke’s expression belied the easiness in his voice. “Samuelson is not a man of learning, he cannot read or write, but he is still a human being and has the most basic right to respect.”

  It sounded as though the duke was quoting his father.

  “Big Sam’s loyalty is unquestionable. He would tear a man limb from limb if he thought Olivia was threatened. That is both good and bad. His idea of what threatens Olivia is very broad in definition.”

  “A long speech, Your Grace, and it applies to me in what way?”

  “Stop trying to irritate me,” the duke said with more humor than irritation. “Come sit down, Major Garrett, and I will explain what I have in mind.”

  The duke went to the two chairs by the fire.

  Michael followed, realizing that one handshake and an apology had committed him as surely as his concern for Olivia’s safety.

  He moved Olivia’s cloak and folded it over the arm of the chair. Cinnamon and spices tickl
ed his nose, reminding him that her lips might have something to do with his decision to listen. He’d best not let that be known.

  “David has insisted for weeks that the porter is a poser and incompetent.” The duke settled comfortably into the chair. “Hackett’s family has been with us for a century, serving in that capacity and also at the gatehouse, always reliable. This generation has other ideas.”

  He stopped speaking for a moment and stared into the fire. Some internal debate was distracting him. Michael waited.

  “My father believed that change was inevitable and I’m afraid that he is right.”

  Michael had been sitting on the edge of his chair but as the duke showed an inclination to philosophy, Michael sat back.

  “Yes, Major Garrett, make yourself comfortable.” The duke’s small smile appeared again. “My father saw what happens to the wealthy and those who support them. He was in France for the worst of the Terror.”

  He glanced at the portrait over the mantel. A woman, a beautiful woman with eyes the color of Olivia’s and hair the same lustrous brown. No doubt it was her mother.

  “I thought that when we escaped our own revolution we had escaped the worst. But I think I may have been wrong. Change is coming. The Hacketts are a good example. The night porter is the last of the family to want the position and I think he did it only because his father insisted. One of his brothers took up the Luddite cause and is lost to the family. Another is a miner in the Dark Peak. The gates have not been closed or the gatehouse occupied since the Luddites were last a problem.”

  Michael guessed that was more than five years ago, when he was far from home. “When I stopped in Birmingham, on my way here, I saw more looking for work than I expected. I know from the army that idle hours go a long way to destroying morale.”

  “The war is over, so there are more men for fewer positions. I imagine you saw that, too.”

  “What I saw were too many who had given up country life for the city, with no improvement in their lives.” He leaned forward as he spoke and was surprised when the duke nodded.

  “That may be so, but the growth of factories and machines is inevitable, as is the need for coal to fuel them. The Luddites may not be a threat but there are other groups that favor the idea that there are options for protest beyond civil discussion.”

  Michael waited for the duke to tell him what he had heard in London or in Parliament. He didn’t.

  “I am not going to start closing the gates.” The duke rubbed his eyes again. “At least not yet. Coming so soon after Olivia’s disappearance it would only fuel the gossip. What I want to do is offer you a place to live, the gatehouse. Further, I will make it clear to the night porter that you are in charge of protection of the castle, day and night.”

  “You want to hire me?” It was only one of a hundred questions Michael had. It should be the easiest to answer.

  “Yes, Major, I am offering you a position. I should think it is one well suited to your experience. You insist that work is what you came here for. Am I wrong?”

  “No, Your Grace, you are right.” Michael was surprised and decided not to hide it. “You want to hire me to make sure that the castle is as secure as possible.”

  “Yes. I do not feel for my own safety, but I want to guarantee Olivia’s well-being. The staff will be more comfortable if they know that steps are being taken that they will benefit from as well. I think the staff will welcome you, except for a few like Hackett who do not tolerate newcomers.”

  “Hackett does not worry me, Your Grace. He is a bully and easy enough to handle. I am more concerned about your estate manager. His support is essential, and he does not appear to be part of this hiring process.”

  “Lord David is the estate manager these days. The two of you can resolve any differences in the boxing ring he has built in the old castle. I’ll take a ringside seat.”

  With a wry smile, the duke stood up and waited for Michael to do the same. The interview was over.

  “You need not make a decision this moment, Major. I will tell Hackett that you will be camping tonight in the gatehouse. You can tell me tomorrow if you wish to stay on. For Olivia’s sake I hope your answer is yes.”

  “Your Grace, I do have some questions.”

  “Save them for the morning. David can answer them.” The duke headed toward his desk. “And if you decide that the gates should be closed, make it clear that it is your decision.” He gave a curt nod which Michael knew was meant as dismissal.

  “I do not use my rank anymore.” It was a small thing, but Michael felt the need to assert himself.

  “You have certainly earned the right to the rank.” The duke stopped and turned back to face him.

  “I am not trained for employment in any area where my rank would be an advantage.” It was more than that. More, even, than a way to have a word. The army was his past.

  “Yes, I suppose studying for the church and military rank are hardly compatible.”

  Michael was surprised. He did not show it. That skill he’d mastered before even the army. To be surprised once was part of the game, but more than that was perilously close to a failing on his part.

  “Did Gabriel tell you I was to take orders?” He didn’t think anyone knew.

  “No, I have resources of my own.”

  For a minute Michael thought that was all the duke would admit. He was tempted to shake it out of him, but restrained himself. If Big Sam was Lady Olivia’s bodyguard, he did not want to find out who protected the duke.

  “Trust is an interesting concept, Mr. Garrett. In itself it is not even as sturdy as a sheet of parchment. Each piece of shared information fortifies the wall of trust. But it must be fortified from both sides or it will break under the pressure from one.”

  “Those who led the fight against Napoleon learned that.” Michael nodded. He did not ask how one established trust in the first place. Something like it had grown between them in an hour or less, grounded in the determination to keep Olivia safe.

  “The Marquis Straemore and I were at school together,” the duke explained. “When I saw where you were from, I wrote to him. He told me that you completed the studies for orders, but went into the army instead.” The duke lowered his head and looked him straight in the eye. “No one abandons the church that close to ordination. I suppose that should have been my first clue that you are not bound by what others do.”

  “Straemore’s father was a tyrant.” There were pitfalls everywhere. If Straemore was the duke’s friend, employment here might not last long. Honest. Be honest. “I had some distinct, admittedly liberal, ideas on how to run my church. The marquis had me meet with him at Braemoor before ordination to discuss his expectations. He disapproved of my approach and I refused the living. My parents bought me a commission to be sure I was out of his sight.” There it was, honest and concise.

  “The new marquis is of quite a different stamp. It might be that you could have the Straemore living on your terms now.”

  “Do you not have enough lives to manage here, Your Grace?”

  “But you are here now, Major. You are one of us.” The duke raised his eyebrows as though he was making a joke and inviting Michael to laugh. “I will honor your request to forgo your rank, Mr. Garrett, and since I hope you will stay I will not pursue your call to orders any further.”

  That should have pleased him, but the duke’s sudden affability made Michael wonder if he had read Machiavelli.

  Once the majordomo was informed that “Mr. Garrett will be staying the night at the gatehouse,” it took less than twenty minutes to settle him there.

  The place might not have been in use but it had been kept ready for whoever might have need of it next. Michael had not expected a bed and waved away the butler’s apologies that the bed was not made.

  “There are sheets in lavender in this chest. I can call a maid to make it up.”

  Michael thanked him and said no again, explaining that in the army he had made do with much less. Tomorr
ow would be soon enough for the maid to set the bed to rights.

  He spread his blanket under and over himself and was almost asleep when he stumbled across a thought that challenged the soft foundation of trust. It woke him up as effectively as a bucket of cold water.

  Even though Michael had been entrusted with Olivia’s life, the duke still had not told him who was behind her kidnapping. As he watched from the window he had left uncovered, the moon moved slowly across the sky. The rain-making clouds raced away to the west, leaving a few more layers that let through the light of only the boldest stars. Michael counted each one and labeled it with an unanswered question.

  The answers to only a few of them mattered, and all of those centered around the woman he had found wandering in the woods. He wanted to know who had taken Olivia and why. If she was still in danger.

  He tossed the blanket off and decided he was not being paid to sleep. Nor was he willing to trust Olivia’s safety to someone as lackadaisical as Hackett. Not while there was so much uncertainty around her abduction.

  Pulling on his boots and pushing back his hair was as much attention as he paid to his appearance. He all but stumbled down the stairs and at first welcomed the cold wind that brought him wide awake.

  It wasn’t long before he was cursing it. Only an idiot would be out on a night like this. An idiot—or someone with a mission that made weather an inconvenience.

  25

  THANK YOU, Kendall, this is the most wonderful feeling in the world.” Olivia wiggled her way under the covers.

  “Do you want another warming pan, my lady?” Her maid smoothed the rumpled sheets at the foot of the bed, stretching out every little wrinkle. “You should not risk a chill.”