03 - The Wicked Lady

by Brenda Jernigan

  Kristen gave a choked, desperate laugh. "But I dinna know what tae do."

  Constance had reached up and pointed to Kristen's chest. "Look deep inside yourself, and you'll find out what to do . . ."

  Shaking herself from her reverie, Kristen smiled. Constance hadn't taken no for an answer. Even in death she still got her way. Kristen folded the necklace in her hand. She would treasure the gift, but how would she ever convince Trevor that she hadn't stolen the jewelry? It would be the first thing he would think. But, she would be damned if she'd take the necklace back to him.

  She dared hoped he would notice it missing. Just maybe he would get angry, and then he'd have to come and see her. If only to take it back.

  Kristen sat on the top porch step, her chin propped upon her hands as her elbows rested on her knees, and looked out on the lush green grass of Scotgrow.

  Why couldn't she be happy here? She'd always wanted a family. Now she had one, but something was missing, and she knew what that something was. Unfortunately, she lacked the answers on how to fix her problem. Her whole body was engulfed in tides of indifference and despair. She sighed, weary of the arguments in her head.

  She had enjoyed seeing Hagan this afternoon. She shut her eyes and recalled the pleasant afternoon.

  A breeze blew her long hair across her face, bringing her back to the present and her loneliness.

  She had hoped Trevor would come with Hagan. She had not seen Trevor once in two months, and she'd stubbornly not gone to Chatsworth. If the man wanted no part of her, then so be it. Let him grow old and weary without ever again experiencing any fun or love. Let him work himself to death.

  She could remember when she had asked him if he knew the meaning of the word 'fun', and of course he hadn't. Hard work was all he knew. It wasn't good for him, and she had thought she'd changed him a little and brought some pleasure to his life. Trevor had seemed to grow more carefree when he was with her, but, according to Hagan now, Trevor was working harder than ever.

  This was one situation she had no answers for, and she felt completely helpless, not knowing what to do. Would she ever see him again?

  Ian glanced across the porch and spotted the redhead he'd been looking for all morning.

  He paused to watch her. She sat on the top step her arms folded around her knees, staring out in the direction of Chatsworth. He'd hoped she had forgotten about the Englishmon by now.

  Maybe he'd been wrong. He had only wanted to give the girl some time to find herself. Ian had not wanted that bloody Englishmon forcing Kristen into something she might not want. Now, thanks to her newfound family wealth, she had the opportunity to make her own choices.

  "Bargain," Ian huffed. The Englishmon knew that Kristen had had no choice but to marry him. Trevor needed to sweat a little. Let him find out what it was like to have something precious taken away from him.

  However, Ian's plan did not appear to be working. Instead of Kristen blossoming into a beautiful woman, she had quickly become withdrawn. And the bloody Englishman had made no attempt to see her. None that Ian knew about.

  Perhaps, he'd just have a talk with the girl. He shoved away from the wall. "Are ye not feeling well, lass? I thought with Hagan coming, ye'd be a bit more cheerful," Ian said as he sat down with a groan. "I fear the bones are not what they used tae be."

  Kristen looked up at him with those vivid green eyes so much like his own. However, something was missing . . . they lacked a spark . . . they lacked life. She did manage a brief smile that somehow didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm a little tired."

  "Tired, is it?" Ian gave her a knowing look. "Are ye not sleeping well?"

  "Aye. I sleep fine."

  "Then why, pray tell, are ye tired. I'm the one who should be tired, with my ancient, old bones."

  "Ye're not that old, Grandfather," Kristen said as she lifted her gaze to study his face. "Sometimes I forget ye are my grandfather, and I think of you as my da."

  "Unfortunately, I canna forget, since I have tae live in this body," he joked. "Tell me what's wrong, lass."

  Kristen let out a long, audible breath. "I wish I knew."

  Ian placed his hand on her arm. "We're family, lass. Ye can tell me anything."

  "I know," she said, showing the tortured dullness she was surely feeling. "I--I thought Trevor would have come tae see me by now."

  "That bloody Englishmon." Ian's voice rose. He forgot he was trying to be understanding. "Ye can do better, by far, for yerself."

  "But I love him," Kristen stated simply.

  Now it was Ian's turn to sigh. "I was afraid of that. Are ye sure, lass?"

  Kristen nodded, and the tears she had tried not to shed crept, slowly down her cheeks.

  Ian slipped his arm around Kristen and pulled her close. " 'Tisn't easy tae love a Claremont," he confessed.

  Kristen nodded her head in agreement, then mumbled, "How would ye know?"

  "'Cause I've loved one myself," Ian admitted as he looked down at Kristen's small hands. Something gold tangled between her fingers caught his attention. "What's that in yer hand, lass?"

  Kristen opened her hand, and Ian recognized the necklace.

  "Hagan brought this to me today. It once belonged to Trevor's grandmother. She told Hagan before she died that she would like for me to have it, but I fear Trevor will think I have stolen it."

  "I've not seen that necklace in some fifty years," Ian said in a hushed voice as he reached for it. An emerald the size of a walnut hung at the end of a gold rope and caught the afternoon light.

  He turned it over and examined every detail. The pain that had haunted him for so many years, came rushing back. Memories of what could have been flooded his mind. He pictured Constance's beautiful face and glowing eyes when she told him the emerald would always remind her of his eyes.

  "When did ye see this necklace?" Kristen asked.

  "Around Constance's neck," Ian replied. "I gave it to her the first time I told her that I loved her. And she said the emerald would always remind her of my eyes." That had been many years ago, Ian though and still the pain felt fresh.

  "I've probably done ye a grave injustice, lass. I asked Trevor tae keep away tae give ye some time tae yerself. Made him promise."

  Kristen's brow lifted in surprise. "I'll wager he readily agreed tae get rid of me."

  "Nay."

  "He didn't?" she asked in surprise. Then she realized that her grandfather had really interfered with her life. Maybe she would have gone home with Trevor after she'd gotten out of prison. Maybe things would have been different.

  "Why did ye do such a thing?" Kristen asked with a vague hint of disapproval. She watched his expressive face as it grew somber.

  "I knew ye had little choice tae marrying the mon, and I simply wanted tae give ye a chance tae change yer mind."

  She sighed, held her hands together, and stared at them. "I dinna want tae change my mind. I love the mon."

  "Aye, I can see that now," Ian admitted. "Does he know?"

  "Nay." She shook her head.

  "Why have ye not told him?"

  "Because he doesn't love me."

  "And are ye sure of that, lass?"

  Kristen glanced at him. "He has never told me that he does."

  Ian snorted. The lass was as stubborn as he. He clasped his hands around a knee and looked at her. "Doesn't mean a thing. He has showed you in many ways."

  "I canna believe ye are taking up for him."

  "Me, neither." Ian chuckled.

  "Why do ye not like Trevor?"

  "Goes way back, lass."

  "Then, tell me. I think I deserve to understand." Kristen watched her grandfather as he drew in his breath.

  "Many years ago--" Ian began as he stared out over the lawn, his eyes focusing not on the grounds, but something long ago. "--I fell in love with a beautiful young girl. Her name was Constance."

  Kristen gasped. She stared at him sharply, but he didn't seem to hear her, for he was lost in his thoughts. Kristen could
sense his dazed state, and she didn't want him to stop now that he'd started. She had to hear the story.

  "And she loved me," Ian continued. "But she had been promised to Claremont, and there was nothing she could do to convince her parents to break the marriage agreement."

  "Did they know about ye?" Kristen asked softly.

  "Nay. Constance tried to convince me to talk to them, but I was too stubborn. Wouldn't have done any good with me being a bloody Scot. I wasn't a Laird at that time, so I had verra little tae offer a wife except my love."

  "So what happened?"

  "She married Claremont. And I married Maggie."

  That was the first time Kristen had ever heard her grandmother's name. "Did ye love grandmother?"

  "Aye, but not in the same way. Maggie died at childbirth. We only had a year together.

  "Over the years Claremont and I became friends and business partners. I had a two-fold purpose, ye see, business and being close to Constance. I could see her from time to time.

  "Ye might not believe me, but every time I looked at that woman, I saw love in her eyes. Over the years, it never died. Once in a while, she'd hold my hand or glance at me across the room, and my heart would race out of control.

  "We never did anything about our love," he said thickly. "Not until--"

  Ian stopped abruptly. Kristen perceived he was having to collect himself before he went on. She felt his pain, and she could only imagine how he'd suffered over the years. Much like she was suffering herself.

  "--Until Constance's son died. She was devastated, and I tried to comfort and console her." Ian's voice caught, and Kristen could see that his eyes had grown as misty as her own.

  "That's when it happened." He ran a hand through his grey hair, then leaned over to place both arms on his legs. "All those years we had denied our love finally burst loose, and I dinna think I need tae tell ye what happened. But 'twas love, lass, pure and simple. 'Twas nothing sordid. Just two people giving comfort and solace. I can tell ye, I worshiped the ground that woman walked on."

  "I can see that." Kristen squeezed his hand. "So what happened?"

  "For awhile we went on as before, but 'twas difficult. Then I found out that Claremont was keeping a paramour in London, and I confronted him."

  "So that's what ye were arguing about when he died."

  "Aye. 'Twas not my place, but I told him he couldn't do that tae Constance. I would not stand for it."

  "What did he say?"

  "The bloody bastard told me he would do as he pleased. Said he never loved Constance, and it was his right tae have another woman. Rage took over my body, and I told him he didn't deserve Constance. I told him I loved her, and I intended tae make her my own, by God!" Ian said forcefully.

  "And?"

  "He swore he would kill me first. He might not love her, but he'd never give her up. We struggled. And that's when Claremont dropped dead at my feet."

  "I dinna understand." Kristen shook her head. "With Claremont gone, ye never married Constance."

  "Fate has a cruel way with one," Ian whispered in a voice that seemed to come from a long way off. "Constance blamed me for killing her husband, and she never spoke tae me after the funeral."

  "Dinna ye tell her what he'd told ye?"

  "Nay. She dinna need tae know such. I just told her that I'd told him about our love, and she thought that's what pushed Claremont over the edge."

  "Are ye sure she blamed ye? She could have blamed herself."

  Her grandfather looked at her sharply. "What do ye mean?"

  "I got tae know Constance before she died. She was not a happy woman. Bitter is how I'd describe her. Now I know why. I think she blamed herself for her husband's death. She probably felt guilty that she'd never loved him and had always loved ye, and since ye didn't tell her the real truth, she never knew what her husband was really like."

  "Never thought of that, lass, but no matter 'tis too late for us."

  Kristen reached over and hugged her grandfather. "I'm sorry. But ye shouldn't hold what happened in the past against Trevor. He had nothing tae do with it. Your quarrel was with his grandfather."

  "I always felt I might have a chance after the death, but then Trevor came tae live with Constance, and she poured all her love into him."

  "But Trevor was a child."

  "Aye, a Claremont child."

  "Just listen at how ridiculous ye sound. Ye always possessed something Claremont could never have, and that was Constance's love. The hating and the anger must end now."

  Ian opened his mouth to say something, then stopped. He sighed, then smiled sadly. " 'Tis a fool I've been over the years. Ye must learn from my mistakes, lass. Go after what you want in life and hold onto it as hard as you can, so ye don't lose it."

  "What do ye suggest I do? Trevor wants nothing to do with me."

  Ian smiled down at her, his emerald eyes bright again. "We'll think of something . . .

  "'Cause a Johnstone can outsmart a Claremont any day."

  Chapter Twenty Two

  "Where is Kristen?" Rodney Brownwell inquired as he leaned against a post, watching Trevor trot a colt around a ring on a long tether.

  "Why do you ask?" Trevor responded dryly, not bothering to look at his friend.

  "I've been here half the day and haven't seen your lovely bride yet. After her narrow escape of the hangman, I assumed you wouldn't let her out of your sight."

  Trevor wasn't sure he even remembered seeing Kristen after the trial. Everything had happen so fast. The one thing he did remember was watching the coach as it rolled away from the prison. "Kristen is with her grandfather," he said in a gruff voice.

  "Oh, I see." Rodney propped his arms on top of the fence. "She is visiting."

  "No," Trevor said flatly as he handed the colt over to a groom. Slowly, Trevor walked over to where Rodney stood. He wished Rodney would drop the matter, but he knew his friend well enough to realize he wouldn't. "Kristen is living with her grandfather."

  "What!" Rodney shouted. "Why?"

  "It was an agreement I made with Johnstone to get his complete cooperation at the trial. He said he deserved Kristen since he'd missed her all these years."

  Rodney's eyebrows snapped together. "And what did Kristen have to say about the subject?"

  "We didn't ask her," Trevor replied.

  "Don't you think she should have a say in the matter?"

  "She could have said something at the time. But she didn't say a damn thing," Trevor snapped.

  Rodney wasn't in the least perturbed at Trevor's abruptness. "So how long are you going to leave her there."

  "That, my friend, is completely up to the lady in question."

  "Wait a minute." Rodney grabbed his arm. "You take a thief, clean her up, make her suitable to be your wife, marry her, pay off her stepfather, then hire the best lawyers to get her acquitted when she kills a man. And you're going to let her walk completely out of your life after she's turned it upside down." Rodney stopped, but only because he needed to take a breath. "Well, are you?"

  Trevor frowned. Rodney had summed up the last few months of his life in a simple statement. "Something like that."

  Rodney straightened and glared at Trevor. "Are you bloody stupid?"

  "Careful, Rodney," Trevor warned. Then, a little exasperated, he asked, "What would you have me do?"

  Rodney gave him an incredulous look. "Well, doing nothing most certainly isn't working. Go after the woman you love and bring her home."

  "Rodney, my friend," Trevor said. "You make everything sound so simple. Have you thought that she might not want me?"

  "Rubbish! I have seen the way Kristen looks at you and, I might add, I've also noticed the way you look at her," Rodney pointed out. He crossed his arms over his chest.

  Trevor didn't want to admit that Rodney was right. But Trevor felt an acute since of loss. The pain in his heart had become a fiery gnawing, impossible to ignore. "Have you ever wanted something so badly that you hurt inside?"

>   "Can't say that I have. And I'm not sure I want to if it makes me as miserable as you are," Rodney said, smiling. "What do you want, Trevor?"

  "Kristen." The word seemed torn from Trevor's throat as he surprised himself by finally admitting the truth.

  "Then, by God, go after her. Make peace with her family if you have to, but claim what is yours."

  "What if she doesn't want me?"

  Rodney patted Trevor on the back. "You'll never know unless you ask."

  Trevor wasn't certain what he should do. He had never been in this kind of position before. He'd always known exactly what he wanted, and to be thrown in this role of uncertainty dug like a thorn in his side. He didn't like it.

  Rodney made everything sound so simple. That he and Ian hated each other was an enormous obstacle. Trevor didn't want Kristen to have to chose between him and her family. "I've never been in this situation before. I don't know what to do."

  Before Rodney could respond, Hagan and his groom came galloping up to the stables, and Trevor forced himself to calm down.

  "Slow down, young man," Trevor said in a teasing manner. He reached for the pony's bridle.

  "I had a wonderful time," Hagan said, sliding from his pony into Trevor's arms. He wrapped his arms around Trevor and squeezed.

  Rodney cleared his throat.

  "Who's this?" Hagan asked, peering around Trevor.

  "A friend of mine," Trevor said, then put Hagan on the ground in front of him. "Rodney Norman Brownwell, Marquess of Middleton. Rodney, I would like for you to meet Master Hagan."

  Hagan tilted his head to the side. "How do you remember a name that long?" he asked with typical, childish innocence.

  Rodney laughed. "I agree it is a bit much, and difficult to remember at first. You may call me Rodney."

  "That's much easier," Hagan said, then turned back to Trevor as if that were the end of it. "Aren't you going to ask me about Kristen?"

  Rodney chuckled and arched an eyebrow.

  Trevor glared at Rodney, but he stooped to look at Hagan.

  "How is your sister?" Trevor finally asked.

  "She wanted to know what you were doing," Hagan said. He smiled, his face brightening. "I told her about Flash." Then Hagan's smile faded. "Trevor, when is Kristen coming home?"