Leighton listened to the subtle swish of fabric and the soft tread of slippers pacing back and forth on the oak floor. Opening one eye, he gave his trespasser’s back a frown even as he admired the way her skirts flared from her hips.
As he pushed himself up on an elbow, she lifted her head. Upon meeting her gaze, his first thought was to check his weapons. His second was less refined. The simple cream linen dress matched her hair. With her wealth of butter-soft curls pinned atop her head, she looked refreshingly virginal—quite different from the women with whom he’d been acquainted of late. Until this moment, he had always considered Christel sensible.
Coming to his senses, he asked, “How did you find me? Hell, did you come to Dunure alone?”
“Luck. And yes.”
Leighton slept naked. The sheet covered the lower half of his body, but that was all the modesty it afforded him. “What are you doing here?” he asked, at once suspicious. “I thought my brother would have you on a short leash by now.”
“You thought wrong, Leighton St. Giles.”
Watching her approach, he considered telling her that she was playing a dangerous game coming to an inn filled with disreputable blackguards, looking like a lovely swan among geese.
“I want you to testify against Sir Jacob,” she said. “Stand as witness against his crimes. I want everyone to know the kind of man he is.”
He sat with his back against the headboard, leery now as he narrowed his eyes. “I would like for everyone to know the kind of man he is, too. But that will not happen as long as he is provost.”
She opened her palm to reveal a shiny gold coin.
He sat up as a cold chill went over him. “Where did you get that?”
She tossed it to him. His reflexes keener than usual despite the night of drinking, he caught the coin.
“Saundra sent it to me before she died. Sir Jacob fathered Saundra’s babe, then sent her to a butcher. He betrayed Camden and hurt Anna. I want him . . . gone. He is evil.” Her eyes shone wet with passion.
“What are you talking about?”
“Tia told me about the gold in the tower. She told me everything.”
With a quiet oath, Leighton flipped the coin back at her. “Where is Tianna now?”
“Why do you care?”
He threw his legs over the side of the mattress and stood, grabbing a sheet as he did for modesty’s sake, though he didn’t know why he bothered.
He took two steps and came face-to-face with a pistol. “Do not think I will not use this if you threaten me,” she said. “There are places I can shoot that will not kill you but will hurt like bloody hell.”
“All right.” He returned to sit on the edge of the mattress. He had no wont to hurt or scare her, but he was suddenly furious. “Camden will not appreciate that you have come here on his behalf, Christel.”
“But you loved Saundra, too.”
“Camden has a right to know the truth. Saundra was his wife.”
“But he could kill Camden. He is already a criminal!”
He stood. “Aye, so am I and so are you if one looks deeply enough into your past. Do you have proof of his crimes?”
She drew herself up.
“I did not think so.”
She lowered the pistol. “I should have known you would not help your brother or me or Tia.”
He grabbed her arm. “What are you talking about? Is Tianna in trouble?”
“Talk to her yourself.”
“I am talking to you.”
“Leave off, Leighton. I should have known you were incapable of helping me.” She flung open the door and stopped dead on the threshold.
Camden leaned against the wall in front of the door, his boots crossed at the ankles. The dark woolen shade of his cloak blended with his hair, and only the cutlass he wore was visible in the dim corridor light. His predatory stance told Leighton he’d been listening a long time.
No one moved.
Camden’s pale silver gaze shifted to Christel. “You certainly make my life more interesting, love,” he said. “I have been searching everywhere for you. Worried as hell.”
“I can see that, my lord. I am found out.”
He pushed away from the wall. Entering the room, he shut the door and faced her. “So you would duel with Sir Jacob for my honor.”
“I would duel him for your life. Your honor has never been in doubt.”
Camden looked past her at Leighton, standing in a sheet. For once Leighton had the good sense to keep his mouth shut. His eyes narrowing slightly, Camden held out his gloved hand to Christel in a silent command for the coin. She gave it to him. He turned it over in his hand and raised his head.
“I would never have forgiven you if you had done something to cause yourself harm.”
He opened his arm. Christel stepped against him, pressing her face against his shoulder as he held her against him. “Do you understand?”
“How did you know where to find me?” she asked.
Camden looked pointedly at Leighton. “Tia came forward this morning and told me everything. She has made a confession to the sheriff for her part in Saundra’s death and implicated Westmont in more than the murder of those men who died guarding the gold.”
Christel shook her head. “Nay, she should not have. How could she? Why did you allow her to do so? They could hang her.”
“Because she loves you, Christel. And she would not see you do anything that would jeopardize your future. She could not save Saundra. But she believed she could save you and Leighton.” His next words were for Leighton. “She took full responsibility for everything.”
“Where is Tianna now?” Leighton asked.
“She is at Blackthorn Castle for now. We are looking for Westmont.” Camden tossed the coin in the air and caught it. “Shall we go down and spend this?” he said to Christel. “See what sharks we can dredge up from that cesspool downstairs?”
The dowager snorted and thumped the ground with her cane. “Who’d have thought England would ever see the day when Sir Jacob would be wanted for questioning in a crime.”
“Who would believe it of him,” Grams said.
Christel’s gaze went to Tianna, who was sitting quietly on the settee at the back of the drawing room, reading to Anna. By the look of the girl sleeping on Tia’s lap, Anna had lost interest in the story. Dog had been allowed inside and lay on the floor near the settee.
Christel walked to where a circle of light separated her sister from the shadows of the night. Tia was staring outside.
“How are you doing?” Christel asked.
Tia folded her hands over Anna’s shoulders. “Leighton came to see me this afternoon. He was furious. He tried to step forward and take responsibility. He must have been eating mushrooms, I think. Either way, he is quite mad.”
“We are all worried.”
Tia’s mouth softened. “I could not let you ask him to find Sir Jacob alone. I know you wanted to protect Lord Carrick. But I needed to protect Leighton.”
“They will find Sir Jacob.” Christel wrapped her hand around Tia’s. “You need not be afraid. Camden is not without power, Tia.”
“I know.” Tia’s gaze lifted to encompass Christel. “But Sir Jacob will never be convicted. Saundra is dead, and twenty thousand pounds buys a lot of loyalty,” she said. “It buys witnesses and tribunal verdicts. I am glad everyone knows the truth.”
“He will not go free, Tia.”
“I know.”
Something in Tia’s voice sent a chill down Christel’s spine. She looked around her at the drawing room, then out the window. She stood and peered out the glass. The moon was bright tonight, but she could see the distant glow of firelight somewhere on the beach. She had expected Camden and Leighton to return by now. A cold chill went down her spine.
“Where are they, Tia?” She was not sorry for her anger.
“Leighton only said ’twould be finished for Westmont one way or the other tonight. Sir Jacob is dangerous to you as well, C
hristel.”
Stars appeared only in patches in the sky. A fire burned on the beach. Camden’s men from the Anna stood beyond the circle of light as a cloaked and hooded form was brought forward and dumped on the sand with little fanfare or regard to his rank. The ropes binding his hands behind him were cut and the black hood stripped away.
Jacob Westmont lifted his head. A hush descended on the firelit scene. Westmont’s dark hair hung in his eyes, pulled out of a thong by the hood. His gaze first narrowed on Leighton, who stood behind and to the left of Camden.
“He is not the one you need to fear this night,” Camden said.
“Carrick,” he rasped.
Camden waited, gripping a sword in each hand, and for a moment he wondered if he was any less barbarous than Westmont. Camden wanted to kill him for the betrayal of their friendship, his trust, the harm he had done Anna, his threat to Christel.
Westmont struggled to stand, his boots digging in the wet sand.
“We are at sword’s points, Westmont.” Camden tossed down a dueling sword. “This fight is between you and me. No one else will interfere.”
Westmont hesitated. “You wish to duel with me?”
“Would you pretend innocence? Pick up the sword.”
Westmont grabbed the hilt, dragging the blade off the ground. The handle was smooth from wear, the balance perfect in his hand. He had held it enough during their practices. He raised his head. The shock of his capture had begun to wear away. “I will not fight to kill you, Carrick. We do not have to do this.”
“What would you have me do instead? What would you do if you were in my boots?”
Westmont’s eyes darted around the circle of men. His gaze returned to Camden. He raised the sword. “If ’tis any consolation, I would that it never happened between me and Saundra. But it did.” He glared at Leighton. “Did your brother tell you about the gold?”
“He knows,” Leighton said. “He knows you had six men killed in your search for it.”
Camden and Westmont began to stalk each other in a circle. “You can never prove anything, Carrick. There is no one alive who can bear witness to any accusation you make against me. I will deny them all and see your brother condemned for the theft and hanged alongside Tianna Etherton.”
“The gold will be restored to the king’s coffers, Westmont.”
“You are my business partner. If something happens to me, you lose your investments. If I go down, you crash.”
“Did you burn Seastone Cottage?”
“My men have orders to burn out anyone suspected of aiding and abetting seditionists and criminals.”
“What if she had been in bed that night, the same as the Fergusons had been in their cottage when your men set it to flame?”
Two steps, Camden met his attack. Naked blades flashed in the firelight. They battled around the clearing, the metallic click of blades sharing the night with the sound of waves breaking on the beach. Blood pumped through his veins, feeding life into his limbs. Westmont fought with strength and fury. Camden merely fought. Relentlessly. The battle carried the two men across the beach, the circle of men stretching outward to accommodate the duel.
“You are a fool, Carrick.” Westmont’s weapon glided against his. Standing nose to nose, their swords crossed over their heads, slid and met again. “For all the good this will do. You were my friend. I would have let you live. Now I will see you dead and every member of your family destroyed, including that little colonial bed warmer you have taken a fancy to.”
Camden stepped behind the riposte and slashed his cutlass across the other man’s blade. Westmont whirled at once, going for Camden’s vulnerable side. “You are fighting like a Barbary pig, Westmont,” he rasped in a cutting whisper. “Desperate.”
“You are a traitor, Carrick. Like your brother. Ask him about the time he spent with your wife. Do you think I was the only one?”
“Aye, I do.”
Camden swung his fist, hitting Westmont across the jaw and felling him. Westmont rolled and, barely evading Camden’s fatal blow, came up slashing. The blade caught Camden’s sleeve, tearing through the fabric. He managed to spin away before Westmont’s blade sliced down across his arm. “You were my friend, Jacob.”
Every blow smashed with relentless fury as he parried Jacob’s moves. “You betrayed me. You betrayed Saundra. You betrayed the men who follow you and take your orders.”
His breathing rough, his chest heaving, Westmont lunged.
But for all the barbarity in his own heart, Camden fought with finesse and control. Blade met blade, glinting silver in the moonlight. He slammed backward against a rock and ducked, but his leg was less than agile and he stumbled. Westmont’s blade struck stone. Sparks shattered the darkness. With a surge of force, Westmont pushed him backward.
At the last possible second, he deflected the sword with his remaining strength. And then, Camden sidestepped and his own sword sank into Westmont’s side. Neither man moved. Their eyes held. “It could have been through the heart,” Camden rasped. “But I will not let you off that easily.”
Camden released Westmont and watched him drop to his knees in the sand. His chest heaving, his breath coming in gasps, he stood over Westmont, his hand clutched tightly to the hilt of his weapon, but something stopped him from the fatal blow. “What happened to you, Jacob? What happened to the man I knew? My mentor?”
Camden hurt deep inside him. His fury was gone, leaving something else. Regret. Grief.
“Where is your honor, Carrick? Have done with it.”
Swaying on his feet, Camden tossed his sword to the sand beside Westmont’s. “Honor is squandered on dishonorable men.”
And women, he thought, thinking of the waste Saundra had made of her life. She certainly had not been worth killing for.
Camden staggered back, and something caused him to lift his head. He looked directly into Christel’s eyes.
She stood just inside the circle of firelight, her hand clasped to the edges of her cloak, her hair a beacon of gold. He reached his arm out as she ran into his embrace. She held him so hard that he didn’t know if it was her heart he felt beating so hard or his own. And just that fast the world seemed to right itself back on its axis.
“You will leave Scotland, Westmont,” he said. “My men will escort you to the Anna. I have a sudden want for fine rum in the West Indies, and you will be accompanying my crew. If you ever return, I will kill you.”
“You cannot do this!”
“Get him in irons, Bentwell. Now.” Camden stepped away. “I can. I am. ’Tis over.”
Bentwell and three of his men from the Anna dragged Westmont to his feet. But with a roar, his hair wet from sweat, Westmont shoved away from the hands holding him. He ran toward Camden, reaching for the sword Camden had tossed to the ground, aiming for the final lethal thrust. Camden’s leg would not allow him to drop and pick up the sword and stand again. His hands tightened on Christel to shove her aside as a flash of growling, mangy fury leaped across the sand and brought Westmont to the ground, landing him flat on his back in the sand. He screamed as Dog tore at his hand and arm.
For a moment, Camden didn’t think Christel was going to call off Dog. She did, bringing the hound to their side as Westmont swore and shouted obscenities. “Good boy,” he heard Christel say. “If he was a rabbit, you would have eaten him.”
Camden knelt in the sand and touched Dog’s head. “I think we can find a nice warm place at Blackthorn,” he said.
“We can share the gold!” Westmont was shouting as Camden’s crew dragged him away.
Camden leaned heavily into Christel as she settled her shoulder beneath his and helped him stand. “Do you want to share the king’s gold with a murderer, a leannen?”
She looked up at Leighton as he came to stand next to the dog. “I want to take you both home. ’Tis time we all sit down as a family.”
Chapter 20
There was no breeze as Camden strode from the stable, only an inland stillness
that reeked of seaweed that came with the scent of low tide. When he finished his morning’s business on the ship’s manifest, he found Christel in her room. Folding his arms, he leaned against the door. She’d been spending a lot of her time in her room during these last few weeks. And that worried him. She was not eating. That worried him more.
Christel sat at her desk, bent over a drawing.
It had been almost a month since Sir Jacob had vanished with the Anna, a week since Tia’s tribunal and her sentence—transport to Australia. Six days since the magistrate had allowed him to wed Christel so that Tia could be part of this moment. He had asked Christel to marry him before the tribunal had begun. She belonged with him at Blackthorn Castle. They would wed again in a larger ceremony at St. Abigal’s later in the month when life became less chaotic. He’d been back and forth from Prestwick with a number of loose ends that needed tying, including his relationship with Leighton. They had made their peace, as fragile as it was.
“Leighton was given permission to go with Tianna,” he said when Christel looked up to find him standing in the doorway. “As was Doctor White. We just received permission today. The English are building a new colony there.”
Christel sat straight. “Doctor White? But he and Leighton were not convicted of anything.”
“Nevertheless they will not allow Tianna to go alone, and the transports and colonies are in desperate need of doctors.” Camden sat on the edge of the desk, where she was working on her drawings, and smoothed the hair from her face. “ ’Twas not too many years ago, prisoners were transported to the American colonies. Look where that got the empire.”
Christel laid her cheek on his thigh. “But I only just began to know her, Camden.”
“ ’Tis for seven years. If I know Leighton, they will not remain long where they are sent.”
Christel visited Tianna one last time before Tia was loaded on the prison transport ship. They’d already said their good-byes. And as Christel and Grams and Camden watched the ship sail away that warm August day, she thought her heart would die. Christel brought Grams back to Blackthorn Castle, where she remained with the dowager and Anna for a week before she decided there were others who needed her: Reverend Nunn at St. Abigal’s and the children at the orphanage.
This Perfect Kiss Page 29