Always Yours (ALWAYS trilogy Book 2)

by Cheryl Holt

  * * * *

  Rebecca Blake Carter drifted off to sleep. It had been a difficult day, and she was exhausted. Almost immediately, she fell into her old dream, the scary one she loathed. It had recurred—particularly during periods of stress—ever since she was little.

  The other girl, the one who looked just like her, was with her. Rebecca assumed it was her guardian angel. They were standing nose to nose, talking in a strange language when, without warning, a wicked witch swooped in and snatched her angel away.

  Sissy! Rebecca called.

  It dawned on her that she knew her angel’s name, and she thought it was a silly, common name for such a special, divine being.

  She frowned and reached out, and Sissy reached out too, but she was being carried away much too rapidly. Rebecca couldn’t catch her. They were crying, grabbing for each other. They never liked to be separated! What was happening? What was wrong? Why wouldn’t any of the adults explain?

  A boy was shouting. Where are you taking them? Why won’t you tell me?

  She called out to him too, but she couldn’t find him, and…and…

  She jerked awake, her heart pounding, a moan on her lips. Anxiously, she glanced around, needing a few seconds to remember where she was. Recognition gradually settled in, and she blew out a heavy breath.

  She was in her bedroom, and she was all alone. In the minutes she’d dozed off, why would she believe her circumstances might have changed?

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “It happened so fast. There was no way to prevent it.”

  Raven Shawcross sat in a rear pew, listening to Nathan’s testimony.

  There were a dozen men on the board of the National Exploration Society, and they were seated around a table. Nathan was in a chair at the end, staring them down.

  Sebastian was in the front row, but Mrs. Sinclair and Miss Ophelia had stayed home. Raven didn’t know if Sebastian wouldn’t let them attend or if they’d decided on their own that the evidence would be too gruesome.

  The hearing was supposed to have been held at the Society’s headquarters, but public interest was so high that they’d required a much bigger space. They’d rented a church for the event, and it probably wasn’t fitting, but every parish needed extra money now and again.

  He figured the pastor had been happy to open his doors—for the right price. The altar had been pushed back and a large conference table brought in.

  Nathan was the witness who had generated the most excitement. With his being left for dead, he’d become even more notorious. His part of the story was the one that truly intrigued the crowd. How had he survived? It was a tale too miraculous to be believed.

  As Raven had waited for the afternoon session to begin, the spectators had whispered infuriating questions. They were tittering over such inappropriate facts as how many times Nathan had been stabbed, how much blood he’d lost.

  They were eager for him to wax on and fill in the missing pieces, but they were about to be disappointed. According to Sebastian, Nathan had never uttered a word to explain his extraordinary feat.

  Raven didn’t want to ever be apprised, and he prayed Nathan wouldn’t expound. Each detail was a condemnation of the Sinclair expedition team. In reality, they’d implemented a half-hearted search for his body. They’d been too distraught over Sir Sidney’s death, and when the native tribe couldn’t produce Nathan’s corpse, they’d shrugged and sailed away without much of a complaint.

  Judah had insisted Nathan was deceased when they’d found him, and the rest of the crew had accepted his version of the debacle. Why had they? Why had Raven especially?

  He’d always thought Judah was an unreliable ass, and he wouldn’t have trusted him in any other situation. Why hadn’t he, Raven, checked? His only excuse was that he’d been overcome with grief.

  It was humiliating to admit that he’d been such an awful friend to Nathan, and he owed the man an apology for his negligence. He hadn’t ridden to Selby to beg his pardon, and he should have, but he’d been too mortified over their mistake.

  Plus, Sebastian had been the first emissary who’d gone to Nathan, and he’d been beaten to a pulp. He’d suggested they avoid Nathan until he calmed down, so Raven hadn’t tried to talk to him.

  He craned his neck, yearning to get a better view, and wishing he’d arrived earlier, so he could have been closer to the action. Nathan looked healthy and fit, his comments lucid and clear. Sebastian had described his prior condition as thin and gaunt, so he was recuperating quickly.

  “What was the argument about?” an interviewer asked Nathan.

  “Sir Sidney had assumed—incorrectly—that we had permission to cross the tribal hunting grounds, but he’d received erroneous information. The chief was incensed, and a quarrel broke out. The translator couldn’t keep up, and tempers escalated.”

  Raven sighed with relief. Sebastian hadn’t been certain that Nathan would spew the lie they’d concocted. He was so angry with them, and he might have refused, but he’d testified precisely as Sebastian had requested he testify.

  Normally, Raven would have decried such duplicity, and Nathan would have too, but none of them would tarnish Sir Sidney’s legacy with the truth. Nor would they shame Mrs. Sinclair or Miss Ophelia by revealing the genuine reason the fiasco had devolved into murder.

  The crew deemed themselves to be prevaricating for the greater good, to protect innocent females who didn’t deserve to be hurt. Wasn’t that sort of sin allowed and forgiven? He wasn’t a philosopher, so he wouldn’t try to guess.

  Nathan was still speaking, providing a graphic account of how Sir Sidney had been hacked to pieces, how Nathan had been slashed at too, how—after Sir Sidney was dead at his feet—he’d fled into the jungle and had been shot by an arrow.

  The church was so quiet. No one moved. No one breathed.

  “It’s my understanding, Lord Selby,” the interrogator said, “that you collapsed under some ferns, and you were experiencing what should have been your last minutes on this earth.”

  “I was.”

  “Can you tell us what happened next?”

  “No. It conjures difficult memories for me, so I’d rather not.”

  “But we’re all so curious,” the man said. “We’d like you to clarify subsequent events. We’re agog to find you in England, and you appear very hale.”

  “I’m fine. A little less vigorous than I was in the past, but I’m fine.”

  “Can you tell us for the record—but also for posterity—how you made it home?”

  “I’m sorry, but no. I really can’t.”

  “We’d all like to hear.”

  “I’m sure you would, but I never discuss it.”

  The Society men cast furtive glances at each other, wanting a brave soul to step forward and press him to enlighten the crowd, but it wasn’t a criminal proceeding, and there was no judge on the bench. They had no way to compel him.

  Nathan seized the reins. “I’ve been testifying for over two hours, and I’ve shared every aspect I recall. If you have other questions about the initial portion of the incident, I’m happy to answer them. Otherwise, I’d like to be excused.”

  There was a shuffling of papers, and the committee members glanced at each other again. It was obvious he wouldn’t delve into the juiciest section, the section everyone had been dying to have divulged.

  Finally, the chairman said, “Are there any other lines of inquiry for Lord Selby? Or have we covered sufficient ground?”

  There was a general murmuring of assent that he could be dismissed, and Nathan didn’t wait for their approval. He simply stood and walked out.

  He passed right by Sebastian, but didn’t so much as peek at his old friend, and the realization was depressing. The audience had noticed the snub, and Raven supposed there would be articles in the newspapers about it. They were such famous fellows, like warriors in an ancient fable. People were in awe of them.

  He came down the center aisle, and the spectators gaped at him, anxi
ous to be able to describe him to their acquaintances later on. He ignored them and kept on through the vestibule and out the church doors. Raven slipped out of the pew and went after him.

  As he exited the building, Nathan was already down the block at his carriage. An outrider was holding the door so he could climb in.

  Raven flitted down the stairs, calling, “Selby!”

  For a moment, Nathan stiffened, then he continued on.

  “Selby! Nathan!”

  The use of his Christian name had him spinning around. There weren’t many men who would address him so familiarly.

  He watched Raven approach, and his expression was inscrutable. Was he irked to have been delayed? Was he annoyed that Raven had hailed him? He and Raven had been companions for over a decade. After all that had transpired, had he no opinion about seeing Raven?

  He nodded. “Shawcross.”

  “I wanted to say hello.” There was a lengthy pause where it was clear Nathan wouldn’t fill the void, so Raven said, “I’m glad you attended the hearing.”

  “I don’t believe I had a choice. Sir Sidney was like a father to me.”

  “Sebastian wasn’t positive you’d bother, so thank you.”

  Nathan snorted at that. “I appreciate it.”

  Another pause ensued, and Raven felt terrible about it. It seemed their ability to be cordial had evaporated.

  “I should have visited you at Selby,” Raven said, “and I regret that I haven’t. Sebastian told us how angry you were, and I can’t blame you. He thought we should give you an opportunity to calm down, so I heeded his advice, but I wish I hadn’t. I should have come to talk to you anyway.”

  Nathan scowled. “Why would you have visited me?”

  “To apologize. You and I both know what Judah is like. When he strutted into camp, insisting you were deceased, I should have checked for myself. I’ll always be sorry that I didn’t.”

  “Your being sorry doesn’t change anything, does it?”

  “No. How are you really? Inside at the hearing, you claimed you were fine. Are you?”

  “I’m fine enough.”

  “What will you do with yourself now? Will you go to Africa in the future? I can’t imagine you’d travel with Sebastian, but might you mount your own expedition? Or have you considered joining a different team?”

  “I’m finished with all of it. Our last trip was too much for me. I’ve lost my enthusiasm for the endeavor.”

  “I understand. I’m trying to decide myself if I’ll go again, and I doubt I will. It wouldn’t be the same without Sir Sidney.”

  “No, it wouldn’t.” Nathan shrugged, looking more relaxed, as if he was remembering they’d once been friends. Then he stunned Raven by announcing, “I recently got married.”

  “Sebastian didn’t tell me.”

  “I promised her I’d give it up. She wouldn’t have wed me if I’d planned to traipse off and vanish for years at a time.”

  “She must be quite a woman if you’d quit exploring for her.”

  “She is, but I didn’t do it for her. I’d already determined I wouldn’t return.” He smirked. “I just let her assume it was because of her.”

  It was the sort of conspiratorial male remark they might previously have shared, and Raven chuckled. “Your amour must have happened very fast. Who is she?”

  “Her name is Nell. You wouldn’t know her.”

  Nathan’s tone indicated he wouldn’t expound on his bride. Evidently, he viewed himself as being so separated from the Sinclair expedition team that he wouldn’t provide even the smallest personal detail.

  Raven was genuinely curious though, and he might have pressed for information, but suddenly, Nathan glanced over his shoulder and frowned.

  “Excuse me,” he said, and he took off like a shot.

  Raven whipped around and blanched. “Dammit!”

  Judah was strolling toward the church. What was the idiot thinking? Sebastian had distributed a copy of the schedule, so the entire crew was aware that it was Nathan’s afternoon to testify. Judah couldn’t have forgotten, so what was his intent?

  He was incredibly vain, so perhaps he was simply eager to flaunt himself at Nathan merely to prove he could.

  Nathan attacked like a shark in the ocean, his first punch brutal and precisely on point. Judah hadn’t noticed him racing up, and at receiving the clout, his knees buckled and he collapsed. Nathan leaned down, grabbed him by his shirt, and hit him again.

  Raven spun toward his carriage, and his servants were watching the altercation. “Help me!” he shouted to them. “We have to stop this!”

  He didn’t dawdle to learn if they followed. A crowd had gathered to observe the combatants, and as Raven pushed through the gaggle of spectators, Nathan had released Judah and stepped back.

  “Traitor!” Nathan accused. “Coward! Thief!”

  Judah mumbled an unintelligible comment, and Nathan kicked him in the ribs. Judah curled into a ball. His nose was bleeding profusely and likely broken.

  “You have some gall,” Nathan fumed, “to show yourself on the streets of London.”

  “It’s a free country,” Judah unwisely retorted.

  The taunt infuriated Nathan so much that he delivered a flurry of blows, and Judah howled in agony.

  “If I ever see you again,” Nathan warned, “I’ll kill you. The only reason I won’t do it here is that there are too many witnesses.”

  “Bastard!” Judah muttered, and Nathan kicked him again.

  Raven leapt in and pulled Nathan away, saying, “He’s not worth it, Selby. Leave him be.”

  Nathan gaped at Raven like a wild man, then recognition settled in. He jerked out of Raven’s tight grip and said, “Tell Sebastian that I’m still waiting for my knife.”

  He stomped off, and his outriders surrounded him. In a trice, he was in his coach and spirited away.

  People knew who Judah was, and the story of how he’d declared Nathan deceased was all over the kingdom. He lay on the ground, a beaten, solitary figure with no friend to lift him to his feet. Raven certainly wasn’t about to assist him.

  Bystanders scoffed with disgust, then sidled away until it was just the two of them. Raven spat onto the cobbles and walked off too.

  * * * *

  Judah was in his bedchamber at Hero’s Haven when a footman knocked and told him Sebastian was in his library and needed to speak with him immediately. But he couldn’t go downstairs. He’d been desperately searching for Nathan’s knife, and he couldn’t find it anywhere. Where could it be?

  When Nathan had been dying in the jungle, Judah had cut it off his belt and taken it. It was a magnificent weapon, sharp and heavy, with real jewels embedded in the handle. Sir Sidney had given it to him on his eighteenth birthday, and he’d always sauntered about with it attached to his hip.

  Judah had been jealous of that knife. Sir Sidney had never given Judah anything, and he’d traveled with the man for twelve years!

  He’d stolen it almost on a whim, and apparently, Nathan remembered the incident and had mentioned it to Sebastian. Who would have expected Nathan to survive? Not Judah, that’s for sure. And with how Nathan had been hovering at death’s door, why would he have recollected any details of their encounter?

  Sebastian hadn’t confronted Judah about the knife. Why not? What might it mean?

  He should have pawned the bloody thing. Or sold it. He’d ordered himself to get rid of it so often, but he hadn’t. He’d enjoyed having it hidden in his room, and he liked that he’d seized it from Nathan whom he’d always detested.

  But where was it?

  Judah hadn’t planned to bump into Nathan at the inquest, but he had, and look where it had left him! His nose was so painful that it had to be broken, and he suspected a few ribs were broken too. His eyes were black and blue, and his right eye was swollen shut. He was a pathetic sight.

  The assault had happened three afternoons prior, so his injuries had had plenty of time to throb and puff up. He was quite mis
erable, his thought processes muddled, his fury acute. He’d been battered on a city street, and no one had intervened.

  Even Shawcross had been a prick about it. They’d never been particularly cordial, but for pity’s sake, they’d worked together for over a decade. What kind of friend was he?

  Judah grabbed his coat and started down the stairs, being especially careful to not peek at himself in the mirror. He couldn’t abide his ruined face.

  He wondered what Sebastian could want and yearned for him to exhibit some concern as to Judah’s condition. It would be nice if someone would. Since his thrashing, not a single crew member had visited his bedchamber to check on him.

  Judah intended that they realize how Nathan had become an unhinged lunatic. His behavior was so out of bounds—attacking a fellow with no warning—and Judah was determined that none of them ever mend fences with him.

  He headed toward the library, and as he approached the door, Shawcross was perched there like an angry sentinel. He glanced into the room and said, “He’s finally here.”

  “Show him in,” Sebastian replied.

  Shawcross didn’t move, and because he was partially blocking the door, Judah had to wedge past him.

  “What’s your problem, Shawcross?” Judah grumbled.

  “You don’t look so good,” the ass snidely retorted.

  They might have quarreled, but Sebastian motioned Judah in.

  “Ignore him, Judah, and sit down please.”

  Judah cast a glare at Shawcross, then trudged over. He’d like to presume he hurried, but he wasn’t feeling spry enough to rush. He eased into the chair, finding it a relief to get off his feet.

  Shawcross closed the door, and Judah was hoping he’d left so Judah could meet with Sebastian alone, but he came over and stood behind Sebastian, as if he’d been recently elevated to a higher position of authority. He and Sebastian glowered at Judah as if he was in trouble, and the notion was galling.

  Why would he be in trouble? Nathan was the one who belonged in an asylum.

  “What do you think of my injuries?” he inquired. “Nathan is completely deranged. He pummeled me for no reason at all.”