by Claudy Conn
She wasn’t sure what she could say to that without raising her voice, so she kept still for a moment as she collected herself and said in a quiet and solemn murmur, “Oh, so I am just one more thing you decided to have?”
No time to get his reply as Mary and Sir Jacob called to them and Jacob said jovially, “I was just telling Mrs. Horwich that my poor mare misses your hands, and she has come up with a solution she believes will satisfy the squire.”
“Oh?”
“Indeed,” said Mary brightly. “I don’t know why I did not think of it sooner. I shall accompany you to the Towers and be your chaperone!”
Out of the corner of X’s eye, she witnessed his lordship expression as his jaw dropped. Oh, that did not suit him at all. She almost laughed out loud at him.
“Mary, are you sure? It will be such an inconvenience,” she offered.
“Not at all, I have another old gelding the squire has put out to pasture, but who is fit enough to make the short trip to Cressly. Indeed, this shall be an outing for both of us.”
* * *
David Horwich had developed an obsession.
He knew that what he was experiencing was not normal. He knew it would lead to trouble. He couldn’t stop it from influencing everything he did. It grew malignantly inside his brain and intensified everything he felt for Exerilla Radley, and what he felt was lust.
He couldn’t stop himself from constantly visiting his parent’s home, whereas, in the past, he rarely visited more than once a week. He had ridden to his parent’s stables, given over his horse and started up the drive when he saw them. Hurriedly he ducked behind a row of evergreens and watched.
He had come to catch a glimpse of her, to follow her footsteps as carefully and as quietly as he could in the hopes of getting her alone.
Sometimes he would think about her and imagine his hands on her, removing her clothes, touching her skin, kissing her beautiful mouth.
He was going mad with hunger.
In the past when he spent more time at Horwich House, before the incident, quietly followed her about, stood behind a door near the kitchen, listen to her laugh and tease with Cook and Anne. The sound of her giggles tickled a need in him. He would peek around the door and watch as she bent over to pick up something, and imagine himself driving into her as he held her naked rump. He would close his eyes and almost feel the sensation of being inside, deep inside her.
Exerilla was the queen of his dreams when he slept.
He would wake in a sweat of pleasure only to find she wasn’t there, under him and he would feel sick inside. He wanted her, thought about her, even when he sat in the tavern with his cronies enjoying a drink and a few jests. He found himself daydreaming about her when he was supposed to take care of business—dangerous business that required his full attention to details.
This could not go on.
The answer was simple. He had to have her. He was sure once he bedded her, he would be satisfied and be able to move on.
A thorn tore at his skin. Hunter MacTorry. Every time he looked around, the blackguard was in his way. Now, he stood helpless, hiding as he watched Hunter helping, his mother, into the Cressly carriage. The blasted devil then turned and helped Exerilla onto the step, holding her waist, looking into her green eyes—eyes that should only look at him…, not the Scotsman from bloody Hades!
As much as he wanted Exerilla, David wanted his lordship dead.
~ Sixteen ~
BAUDALI STOOD BACK and contemplated his crystal orb. Dark magic infused him with yearning. The blacker the magic, the more forbidden it was, the more power it gave him. He was from a realm of wizards, which made him nearly safe from being absorbed by the darkness. Lately he felt a tug from the other side, the dark side and was aware that he had lost track of time. He would have to be careful.
He had been sure that he could remain safely out of the dark’s prison, where it turned the user into the used. He was suddenly filled with an urge to kill…something… anything.
He reached out and caught the mouse scurrying across his stone floor of his dungeon. A moment later he squashed the life and blood out of the small creature, letting its guts drip to the floor before he dropped it. Ah, that was better.
Now he could think more clearly.
Recently he had discovered another player in the game of cards he contemplated every day…David Horwich.
Could the man be used to aid him as he entrapped Hunter MacTorry? Possibly, he thought. He had seen that Hunter was already aware that David’s interest in the girl was more than seemly, and Hunter’s behavior regarding her was becoming more pronounced each day. He sneered, ah love, what that emotion made powerful beings like himself,. However, he would use this to his advantage.
He dipped his hands in a bowl of scented water, dried them and paced a moment as he chewed at his lower lip. He was frustrated.
He removed his cone shaped hat and threw it on a nearby table. He had to think. Timing was everything.
And he was undecided about the timing. He had to be certain that Hunter was in love to the point that he would sacrifice his brother’s life to save the female’s life.
Would Hunter sacrifice his brother?
Perhaps he should simply dispose of Hunter now. He should wait he knew. He had no choice, really. Hunter was aglow with power. Taking him by surprise would be the only way to kill him and that was not likely to happen. He hadn’t even been able to successfully watch him with the Orb. He would need something to distract him.
Ferrell MacTorry had to die. His death was necessary to tweak the future, a future where he had seen a lurking danger for himself if Ferrell lived. And Hunter was a threat to his goal.
If Ferrell didn’t die, a series of events would lead his twin, Rysdale to more success than he had already attained. Then his twin would always have the upper hand. Rysdale had already won the sweet and lovely Charm. He had to change the fates. He had to change the future. Ferrell had to die.
Ferrell could not be allowed to survive the Battle of Waterloo.
He paused his frenzied pacing. He was so uncertain, timing was everything.
Something about Exerilla had him disturbed. He sensed that she was more than what she seemed, but that was ridiculous. She was human. He had already put out his feelers for magic, and she had none.
He needed to use her to lure Hunter into his trap.
Yet, she was a mystery.
When he observed her, it was as though he could almost see a thin veil around her, as though someone had enacted a shield over her.. When he tested for a shield, he could find none.
His mind raced. His thoughts bumped into one another. What was it then?
Had Hunter enacted something around her? To what end, protect her?
That didn’t make sense because the veil he could almost see was no more than a mask. Such a thing could never stop him. Hunter would know that.
If Exerilla was human, he needed to find out who her connections were, and if she were hiding something. It was impossible to know.
He would have to watch a bit longer before he made his move. Using caution was ever wise, and he needed to make certain his plan succeeded.
* * *
Hunter took Mary for a stroll while Exerilla worked Princess Tat. She worked patiently with the mare, reminding her of what the pressure of her leg meant, pleased to find the mare willing.
She took her out of the training paddock and down the drive to the gate. The mare was slightly skittish as she bent to open the gate; she settled down and calmly went through the opening.
The mare needed a run, as she did. She put her into a steady canter, felt the breeze against her cheeks and laughed out loud. She wanted to spread out her hands and scream, look ma—no hands.
She missed her mother. She could feel the mare gaining speed, ready to open up and she gave Princess her head.
They dove forward, in unison, and the mare kicked up her rear with joy at the anticipated speed. They approached a fence lin
e and although Exerilla wished she could just point the mare and take it flying, she knew better.
She brought her under her, quieted her, spoke to her. Princess objected to the restraint with a shake of her head. X laughed, but told her firmly to behave.
Princess snorted, but quieted as she slowed and took the post and rail, tucking her fores perfectly, landing beautifully and slowly came to a stop, just as X asked of her.
Exerilla patted her neck affectionately and loudly pronounced her a most excellent mare and Princess seemed to understand that she had done a very good thing.
She turned her around and headed back, taking the fence line one more time, in perfect style.
Satisfied with the day’s work, Exerilla arrived at the Towers stables. A wide smile crossed her face as she swung her leg over and got ready to dismount.
“Well done,” said his lordship.
Her back was to him but his hands had her waist from behind as he easily, deftly lifted her the remaining distance to the ground and lightly steadied her.
“I could dismount on my own,” X said amiably enough.
“I am quite certain ye can, lass, but ye see, whether ye count yerself a lady or not I doona care. I mean to be a gentleman when I can.”
She scowled at him, “That was not a very nice thing to say; as the implication is that I am not a lady, simply because I wish to do something for myself. That is ridiculous.”
He eyed her thoughtfully, “Is it, lass?” He handed the horse off to the groom and turned back to her, “Ye have very modern ideas, much like the Godwin girls.”
“Oh,” she brightened. “I know about them.”
He laughed, “Do ye now?” He lowered his voice, “Ye are exquisite, Exerilla Radley, and no less so when yer ire is up.”
She ignored the compliment and puzzled as she looked around, “Where is Mary?”
“Ah, shall I take ye to her? She is conferring with Mrs. Lyons,” he smiled broadly.
“Oh, good, then she has company,” Exerilla said brightly.
“Aye, Mrs. Lyons is as well most pleased with these new arrangements,” he said as he led her down a narrow path.
“But you aren’t? In fact, you sound vexed,” she said, now that was a good old English word—vexed. She was getting better at this.
“I am, as ye say, vexed,” he answered promptly and then steered her off the path toward the house down another that was edged by tall and shapely evergreens.
“Why?” she knew why.
“The new arrangement makes it harder to get to ye alone,” he already had her in his arms, pressed against his body.
She made no objection and his mouth covered hers and parted her lips so very tenderly. She didn’t even realize that her arms had reached up and held onto his shoulders until she felt herself lifted off the ground and his kiss turned into another. This was a fever she had for him. No other explanation presented itself. But, this wasn’t the time or the place, and she wasn’t sure if there ever would be a time or place. He was a human and she… was an immortal witch.
“Stop, Hunter…”
He pulled away and his voice sounded desperate, “Do ye really wish me to stop, Exerilla?”
“Yes, we should get up to the house,” she answered.
“Och aye, m’sweet wee lass, as ye wish,” he answered.
She was relieved and disappointed all at once and started forward, uncertain of herself, unsure of what she should say. She knew what she wanted. She wanted to fling herself into his arms and have him make love to her.
He lightly touched her elbow as he led her to a back garden door and down the corridor to the kitchen, a bright warm and welcoming chamber with wafting scents of sweet baking.
She found Mrs. Lyons and Mary sitting at a large window table sipping tea and munching on goodies, with cook humming in the background. She was surprised. She knew gentry did not usually sit with the servants in the kitchen, but she could see from Mary’s smile that she was enjoying herself immensely.
They pulled up chairs at the large block oak table and cook, humming and chattering, commented that she didn’t know what the world was coming to, what with Sir Jacob’s guests taking over her kitchen, but Exerilla could see that in spite of these words she was quite pleased. Cook set three more cups and plates, full with miniature pastries before them. And Exerilla could not stop herself as she dove at the sweets, drank down her tea and had another before she was able to sit back and take part in the conversation.
She sighed to herself, as the question came to mind—would she never again be alone with the big handsome Scot?
* * *
Hunter walked the ladies out to Sir Jacob’s waiting coach and handed them each into its comfortable confines.
He watched for a moment as the driver maneuvered it out of the courtyard and down the winding drive. He felt like a schoolboy.
He was an idiot, allowing a beautiful woman to turn his head. She all but consumed his every thought.
This had to stop. He didn’t have time for this. He was on a mission not just one mission, but two.
He knew that Baudali was watching. He had suspected it for days. His father and Baudali hailed from the same dimension and although Baudali had turned dark, he wasn’t able to disguise his magic.
Hunter wondered if it was just idle watching on Baudali’s part—just passing time until Waterloo. Or did Baudali mean to strike sooner?
He had only reached the front door, when Swit rode up, and jumped off his horse calling out, “Ho there, my lord Scotty!’
He turned and waited for Jerry to dismount and with his horse in hand, he strode over to him, “What is ye want, Swit? Yer horse is in a sweat, best hand him over to one of the grooms, he needs walking out.”
“Yes, I will walk him to the stables myself…in fact, walk with me, Hunter. I need a word with you.”
Hunter turned back to him and eyed him questioningly, “Ye want a word with me? Where is Jacob?”
“I’m not his keeper, how would I know where the lad has gone off to?” Jerry snorted. “It’s just as well. Need to talk to you alone.”
Hunter was surprised. “Really?”
“You’ve been at me about my nightly adventures, haven’t you? Well, let me ask you then, what do you think I’ve been doing?” Jerry said on a challenge.
His lordship shook his head, “I think ye have been playing a deep game…working with smugglers.”
“I am here to tell you that is precisely what I have been doing.” He paused and gave his lordship a calculating eye, “What I do is simple. I’m the one that arranges for the land runners to take goods delivered by the gentlemen.”
Hunter’s mind worked quickly. Why was Jerry telling me this and what could he hope to gain? He directed a hard look at him and asked, “What do ye want from me?”
“You always get right to the point, don’t you?” He inclined his head. “I’m as patriotic as anyone, but no one can give us brandy the way the frogs do! They have the brandy and we want it. There’s your market. There isn’t an Englishman alive who won’t pay for his brandy, war or no. He doesn’t much care how it came across the Channel.” Swit grinned widely. “So, who is to say who is right and who is wrong? If the good people of Albion want to buy their brandy with their eyes closed. Why shouldn’t I reap the benefits?”
“And I repeat, what do ye want from me?” Hunter watched him warily.
“Odds life. I know you don’t need the blunt, but you are itching for a little excitement. That is who you are and don’t try and tell me otherwise.”
“I grow weary of this, Jerry. Tell me what this is all about,” Hunter said with an impatient sigh. He knew damn well just what this was about. Jerry Swit or his partner wanted him out of the picture and they were laying a trap.
“I meet with my flaskers tonight. Taking Jacob’s yacht, I have a couple of men but I need another to crew the thing and I know you know how to sail. There isn’t a bit of danger. We’ll be in a private yacht. We get the
tubs right under their noses and drop them at the beach, where our runners will be waiting to take the tubs on their way.” He eyed his lordship, “Game?”
“Ah, so you need another deckhand and you thought of me?” Hunter asked incredulously.
“Thought you might enjoy the adventure of it,” Swit said brightly. “But, here is the rub. I don’t just need your help on deck.” He played with his shadow beard. “It’s the Frenchies. Funny lot. Won’t give over the tubs unless we hand over the ready. I am a little short this week and since you have plenty of blunt to invest, thought you might be interested.”
Hunter had lived a long experienced life. He knew Jerry Swit and something was off with this entire story. Whoever was backing Swit, knew well enough to have the money prepared for this operation. He had decided to play along anyway.
“How much will it cost me?”
“Eighty guineas.”
“And tell me this,” Hunter said. “Does Jacob know? Is he involved?”
“Dash it, I am not a fool and he is too loose-lipped! No. He knows nothing more than I mean to take out the yacht for a sail this evening.”
“Why are you using the yacht?”
“Had a bit of a problem the last two runs. Thought my usual crew should lay low for a bit as the custom vessles are running the coast. They won’t bother with a private yacht though, will they? And if they do, we’ll sink the tubs and come back and fetch them later. So what is it to be, yea or nay?”
Hunter MacTorry gave him a look. “Yea it is, Swit.”
~ Seventeen ~
“DAVID, YOU ARE in too deep. I’m telling you son, I know we don’t always see eye to eye, but this time you have got to pull out!” The squire cautioned his son with his tone both worried and rough.
David grimaced at his father. “What Papa, no stomach for it? Just a couple of weeks ago, you wanted to handle the last run yourself.” He shook his head. “Damn stupid thing.”