After a few minutes, in which he gave the impression he’d finally composed himself, he turned his attention to Clay. “Are you going to rebuild on your property?”
“Eventually. But Marisa and I are going to be married soon.”
“The best of luck to you both, but don’t wait too long to start rebuilding. Your bride needs a home.” And the sooner he got rid of them, the better off he’d be.
~
Diana tried the knob on the cellar door again, found it locked, and knew no amount of jiggling would open it. She had ceased to count the number of times over the last two days that she’d gone to the door to pound on it, to cry out until she was hoarse. Nobody heard her, nobody came, except for Kingsley. Twice a day he brought her some food, somehow managing to elude Hattie, whose kitchen was her domain and whose eyes never failed to miss anything. Apparently she’d missed the extra helpings Kingsley took, or her eyesight was poor.
Kingsley had even thought to lock the door that led into the tunnel. Diana couldn’t budge it. She cursed herself for her lack of strength, the sudden weakness that periodically assailed her. The cut on her head didn’t hurt, but her head had pounded ever since the accident and the headache wasn’t made any better by Kingsley’s cruel joke about Tanner’s death. He wasn’t dead; he couldn’t be dead. She’d know it, would feel a part of herself missing if he’d been killed. She still wasn’t certain what had happened that day on the road. All she knew was that Tanner wasn’t with her now, that somehow Kingsley was involved in whatever happened, and she was trapped in the cellar with little hope of freedom unless someone heard her cries.
And she was pregnant, tired, crabby, and frightened. Feeling miserable, she made her way to the pallet Kingsley had made for her and pulled the blanket about her. What did he intend to do with her? He couldn’t keep her here forever, and since he was feeding her and tending to her wants, he evidently didn’t want her dead. Did Kingsley even know what he wanted? Probably not, and this thought caused her more than a few moments of uneasiness. Kingsley was a volatile person, more than a bit unhinged in his thinking, and capable of almost anything.
“Dear God, let me out of this mess,” Diana prayed aloud to break the tomblike silence of the cellar. “And please protect Tanner. I love him so much, and I don’t believe Kingsley’s lie. You wouldn’t separate us now, not when we’ve been so happy. Please … please…” Tears fell onto Diana’s cheeks and she couldn’t go on, but she finished the prayer in her heart.
22
Ten days later, the winter’s chill that had besieged South Carolina had weakened, and now a balminess hung over the area. The doors and windows of Charlestown had been thrown open in the hope of catching a cooling breeze off of the Ashley River, and more than one person who had complained about the cold spell now bemoaned the heat.
“Goodness, but it’s warm in here,” Annabelle commented as she dabbed at her forehead with her kerchief. “A cooling breeze is just what we need.”
Tanner looked at her from his place on the bed, disinterest on his face both for her and for the book she’d been reading to him. “I need to find my wife,” he said.
Annabelle bit her lower lip and shook her head. “Please accept the fact that Diana is most probably dead. If she isn’t, and you do find her after what those men may have … done to her … would you still want her? She’d be so…”
“Certainly I’d want her!” he groaned. “I love her and I want her back, no matter what may have been done to her. If I wasn’t so damned weak, I’d leave this bed and find her.”
“Remember you tried that the other day.” Annabelle’s eyes reproached him. “You made it no further than the door before you collapsed. You’re lucky to have any strength at all, considering what happened to you.”
Tanner leaned toward her, determination shining in his eyes. “Every day I grow stronger, but soon, very soon, I’m going to search for Diana and find her. I’m also going to find the people responsible for all this. And when I do, they’ll beg me for mercy.”
Annabelle recognized that look and shivered with dread. She’d seen it many times in New York when he was on someone’s trail, dogging the person until he seemed almost relieved to be caught. She wondered what he’d do if he knew that Kingsley was behind everything and that she had helped him. She didn’t want to think about it… .
“Sometimes, Tanner, I don’t think you’re grateful that I’m caring for you. I helped you when even Dr. Ridgely had given up hope. I stayed by your bedside and nursed you. I’ve had very little time alone and less sleep. And you don’t … appreciate … my efforts.” Annabelle gave a tiny sob, quite pleased at the way her voice broke in the appropriate place. Tanner couldn’t help but be convinced at her sincerity, and if her playacting would divert his attention from finding Diana’s kidnapper and make him feel awful for how he was treating her, then so be it. Annabelle glanced at him from under lowered lashes, congratulating herself on the tiny teardrop that mingled there. A nice touch.
“Don’t cry, Annabelle. Please. I hate seeing women cry.” Tanner took her hand and clumsily patted it. “I’m very appreciative of your efforts. They won’t go unrewarded.”
Annabelle gritted her teeth. That sounded almost as if Tanner intended to pay her in cash, rather than in what she truly wanted — matrimony. Yet she knew it was too soon to think in those terms. Everything hinged upon Kingsley, but the hateful cur must believe Tanner was dead. In that case anyone could ride into Charlestown from Briarhaven and discover that Tanner was still alive and inform him that Diana was alive. Annabelle knew she was alive, and this was a threat to her. Somehow she had to convince Tanner to leave South Carolina entirely, not only for his protection but hers, too. She didn’t want to bear the brunt of Tanner’s vengeance.
Clasping his hand, Annabelle moved from her chair to sit beside him on the bed. She gazed up at him with tear-filled eyes. “My reward shall be your good health.”
“Annabelle?”
“What, Tanner?”
“What in blazes are you up to?”
“I don’t understand what you mean. Why should I be up to anything? I assure you that I’m not.”
He assessed her with a half sneer and grabbed her wrist, pulling her very close to his face. “Don’t lie to me. You’re an expert at working your wiles on unsuspecting men and getting away with it. In Philadelphia you had half the town eating out of your hand, believing you to be a sweet and untouched waif — and all the while you were turning in patriots who posed as loyalists. They never suspected it was you. When we were together in New York, when we were lovers, you weren’t honest enough with me to admit you weren’t in love with me. You used me for sex, but I didn’t mind, because I thought I loved you. Even then you kept secrets from me, and I think you’re being secretive now. This tearful act doesn’t move me at all. Out with it! What is it that you’re up to?”
Her mouth fell open in exasperation. All she had to do was make a whimpering sound and Samuel gave her anything she wanted, believed anything she told him. It wasn’t fair that the very man she wanted so desperately didn’t believe her. She was thankful that he couldn’t read her mind, otherwise, he’d have known about Kingsley. Maybe if she turned the tables on Tanner, he’d be put off the trail and she could lure him away from South Carolina.
“You’re a cruel, suspicious man. You make it difficult for a woman to be honest with you. And yes, I do admit I’m up to something, but nothing devious, I can assure you. However, I doubt you’ll be interested or approve of what I want.” She had his attention now, she could tell.
“Well, I’m waiting for an explanation, Annabelle.”
She got off of the bed and purposely didn’t look at him, knowing the effect would be more theatrical and tragic. Before she was finished, Tanner would believe the sun was an orange if she told him so.
Her gown made a swishing sound when she turned away. “I fear that you’ll hate me for what I’m about to say, but I will tell you anyway. I love you, Tanner,
and when your grief over Diana has passed, I want to marry you. Oh, I know I hurt you in New York and I’ve come to regret it. And I’m perfectly aware that you can’t love me now, maybe you can never love me, but I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give. I’ve done some terrible things in my life and I’ve hurt so many people, but I want another chance with you.” Annabelle sighed raggedly, loudly enough that Tanner heard, and with just enough emotion that her shoulders quivered with the effort. “When you’re better, I’m aware that you’ll go in search of your wife, but I’d be dishonest if I wished her well. I don’t. I hope Diana is dead so you can forget her and come to want me.”
Annabelle faced him in a swirl of lavender and blue satin skirts. “I also believe you’d do well to leave South Carolina forever, to put the past and the pain firmly behind you. Whatever you decide is fine with me, but know that I love you and want you.”
On that poignant note, Annabelle left the room.
Tanner stared at the door long after she’d gone, then he whistled lowly. “God, she’s a damned good actress!” And that was saying quite a bit. Not for a blasted minute did he trust Annabelle Hastings. Somehow, some way, he was going to discover what it was she was hiding. But first he must regain enough strength so that he could search for Diana on his own. Unbeknownst to Annabelle, he’d summoned Mike Candy to his bedside the previous day while she napped.
Tanner thanked Mike for saving his life. To show his gratitude, he’d offered him money, but Mike had refused it. “I’d have done it for anybody,” Mike had told him shyly. Tanner appreciated Mike’s attitude, but from the looks of the man, Tanner knew he was hungry and needed a decent place to sleep. In short, Mike needed employment, which is exactly what Tanner offered. Mike readily agreed to becoming Tanner’s driver, taking poor Curtis’s place.
“I’d appreciate it, too, Mr. Candy, if you could nose around some and try to get some information about my wife and who did this to me. Especially about my wife. I need to know where she is and who has her.”
“I’ll do my best, sir,” Candy promised. Twisting his hat between his fingers, he hung his head in shame. “Maybe this can be my way of making up for helping that nasty bloke I nursed back to health. He was quite interested in you, sir.”
“Who are you talking about?”
Candy shrugged his shoulders in a helpless little gesture. “A hateful man named Mr. King. He was a British soldier who’d been injured, was real sick for a long time, too, but I felt sorry for him and took care of him. Well, when he was better he asked me to come by here and find out if the master of the house was home. I did as he asked me to do, ‘cause that’s all I was supposed to discover. Your man Curtis found me, and I pretended to be hungry, and I guess I didn’t have to pretend too much there. Cammie fixed me up real good with some food and I saw you in the dining room with your lady friend, Miss Hastings. And then I left and told this King fellow that you were home.”
Tanner’s eyes glinted like black marble. “That was all there was to it? He wanted to know if I was home. Why?”
“I don’t know. He did say something about retrieving his property though, but I never did understand that.”
“Where can I find this Mr. King?”
“I can’t tell you that. I haven’t seen him since we had a less-than-friendly parting of the ways right after I left here that day.”
Tanner thanked Mike Candy for his candor, and now as Tanner considered what Candy had told him, he didn’t understand any of it. Who was this Mr. King? Tanner didn’t know anyone by that name. He said that the man had been a British soldier. Perhaps he met him years ago and didn’t remember him, but if so, what property could this stranger have hoped to obtain from the townhouse? Had King intended to rob him? Was there some sort of a conspiracy afoot involving this person? Had Tanner not been a random victim of outliers but the target of a premeditated attack?
The thought had crossed Tanner’s mind that Diana could be a hostage for ransom, but no one had asked for money. Besides, whoever was behind the attack on the road wanted him dead. The only reason he wasn’t dead now was because the would-be assassins were bunglers.
Nothing made any sense but one thing. Tanner wanted Diana back — alive.
~
Jackie watched Kingsley with more than a childhood curiosity. The man fascinated the little boy, and he hung onto each word and remembered every one of Kingsley’s gestures, sitting in the shadowy corners like a cornhusk doll so Kingsley wouldn’t sense his presence. So far, Kingsley hadn’t seen him, and this pleased Jackie very much. His early memories of Kingsley weren’t all that pleasant. He’d never liked him then, and he didn’t particularly like him now. But Kingsley Sheridan was his father and this was the man’s appeal to Jackie.
His granny had said Kingsley was his father, but she hadn’t known he’d been listening. Granny Hattie had been speaking to Ezra, the man he loved and thought of as his papa, something different in Jackie’s estimation than a father, shortly after his mother’s death. They’d been speaking about Kingsley being Jackie’s father and how, now that Kingsley was gone, no one at Briarhaven need fear him any longer. But Mr. Kingsley had returned, and Jackie needed to examine this strange phenomenon known as his father.
He secretly trailed after him when he went into the barn or up the stairs to his room, or whenever he went into the door that led to the cellar. Jackie didn’t dare venture down those stairs. It was dark and scary, and Mr. Kingsley always locked the door after himself. Jackie noticed he went down there a lot.
There was one time when Jackie worked up sufficient courage to put his ear to the door. He’d been shaking with fear that his father would discover him, but he tiptoed forward and listened. “Eat, Diana,” he’d heard his father order gruffly. And then, “But I feel sick. I can’t eat.”
That voice sounded like Miss Diana’s. Was Miss Diana back home? A sense of joy exploded within Jackie. He liked Miss Diana so much, and she was always nice to him, letting him eat whatever he wanted. But when he heard his father’s footsteps coming up the stairs, Jackie ran and hid behind some drapes in the hallway and watched while Kingsley locked the door and pocketed the key. Afterward, Jackie went into the kitchen where Granny Hattie was cooking stew.
“What’s in the cellar, Granny?” Jackie asked as he sampled the gravy right out of the pot.
“Oh, just empty wine bottles now. Those redcoats drank up all our stock.”
“Mr. Kingsley goes in the cellar a lot.”
“How you know that, boy?”
A sliver of fear coursed through Jackie. He was somehow frightened to hear his gentle grandmother raise her voice or to see her eyes grow wide with something he couldn’t name. “I … I … saw him,” Jackie stuttered.
“You been spyin’ on Mr. Kingsley?”
Jackie, ever honest, nodded guiltily.
“What else you been doin’ that I should know about?”
“Nothin’, Granny Hattie. I just been followin’ after him. He ain’t seen me.”
“Jackie, promise your old Granny you won’t be doin’ that no more. Mr. Kingsley keeps to himself and don’t want no little tadpole trailin’ after him. Hear now?”
Her face and voice had softened and Jackie eagerly nodded his understanding. He wouldn’t follow after his father any more. Realizing Hattie had forgiven his transgression, he grew brave. “When can I see Miss Diana?”
Hattie stirred the stew. “You know Miss Diana’s in Charlestown with Mr. Tanner … at least for now.” Hattie’s forehead puckered with lines.
“Naw, Granny, she’s in the cellar. I done heard her talkin’ to Mr. Kingsley.”
“Jackie! I’m gonna take this here spoon to your bottom for tellin’ tales.”
“I ain’t, Granny, I heard…”
“Go on outside and start choppin’ that wood out back for the stove. Maybe doin’ chores will keep you from thinkin’ up stories.”
“Yes’m,” was Jackie’s response. He went behind the woodshed and found his
little ax. Tears gathered in his eyes. He disliked being eight years old. No one ever believed him or took him seriously, everyone was always telling him what to do. And now Granny Hattie had accused him of making up stories, but he knew what he had heard.
Wiping his nose on the cuff of his jacket, he managed not to cry. “One day I’m gonna be big and nobody gonna tell me what to do. And people will believe what I say.” With that, he industriously commenced chopping the pine into kindling for the stove.
23
“Stop acting so petulant, Diana, and eat up. See, Hattie made her special sweet potato pie because she knows how much I like it. Go on, be a good girl and eat.” Kingsley pushed the plate toward her, a coaxing grin on his face.
Diana barely looked at it. “I’m not hungry and I’m not your child bride any longer. You can’t force me to do what I don’t want to do.”
“Hmm, Tanner must be responsible for such rebellious talk, and for your sudden spunkiness. I don’t think I care for this new you.”
Diana’s eyes glittered dangerously and Kingsley backed off. “I don’t care what you like! I want to get out of here. For God’s sake I’m having a child and I feel awful. Haven’t you any compassion, if not for me then for my baby? I could lose my baby.”
“I know,” was Kingsley’s quick retort, but Diana didn’t hear one iota of sympathy or guilt in his tone.
From where she stood, her back against the cellar wall, fearful to sit or recline in Kingsley’s presence thereby to give him the advantage of height, Diana felt a great wave of nausea rush over her. Kingsley didn’t care about her or her child. She suddenly realized that he’d kidnapped her to assuage his own perverted sense of vengeance. Tanner had taken her away from him, and now he had done the same. Whether Tanner was dead or alive didn’t matter to Kingsley, because it was the deed that counted. Though she felt horribly sick, she had to get away. She’d considered trying to knock him down and run, but she couldn’t summon the strength. Her head hurt, her very bones ached. Perhaps she could appeal to Kingsley’s logic.
Savage Deception (Liberty's Ladies) Page 28