by Allison Lane
“Of course.” But it was nought but bravado. As Darksmith tried to sit up, he swooned.
Shrugging, Richard grasped the fellow’s shoulders, and dragged him to the gate. Four men clustered on the other side.
“Take him to the house and lock him up,” he ordered. “Then send for the magistrate and the doctor.” As they loaded Darksmith into a farm wagon, Richard turned back to Penelope. “All clear.”
She nodded, giving Ozzie a final pat before leading Terrence to the gate. “Well done,” she congratulated the boy.
“Very well done,” Richard echoed. “You are a good man to have around in an emergency.” He untangled Jet’s reins from where he had jammed them into the hedgerow and fastened the bag behind his saddle.
“You got the treasure,” she said softly.
“Most of it. Fluff ate a ring.” He lifted her up, then mounted behind her.
“It shouldn’t hurt her,” said Terrence, pulling his own horse alongside.
“Ostriches are always eating bits of gravel,” Penelope explained, more to distract her mind from his encircling arms than because he needed the information. “They particularly like anything shiny.”
“Like the buttons Fluff pulled off Darksmith’s waistcoat. Or the ones Ozzie stole from me.” Richard chuckled. She could feel it rippling through his body, sending shivers into her own.
“We shan’t see them again,” she said. “I’ll not kill Fluff, even for a piece of jewelry.” She turned to Terrence, who was staring at her with blatant speculation. Did he suspect her old-maid’s foolishness? “Why don’t you ride ahead and see after Darksmith,” she suggested. “Alice will need help.”
He flashed the warmest smile she had ever seen before pressing his mount to a gallop.
“Does that mean you’ve decided to favor his suit?” asked Richard, tightening his hold and drawing Jet to a walk. Now that the crisis was past, his bruises made riding any faster difficult.
“I am thinking of it. He has a cool head in a crisis.”
“That he does.” His voice turned serious. “He wants to study estate management instead of returning to school. I told him it was an acceptable alternative. If they are of the same mind in six months, I will give them my blessing.”
“So Alice said. Did he know about his father’s plots?”
“Not until I told him just now.”
“What of Lady Avery’s antagonism?”
“Based on a misunderstanding.” He explained. “I had to break my vow to keep your mother’s affair secret.”
“I cannot blame you for that,” she assured him. “I would have done the same.”
“Thank you.” He hugged her but loosened his hold when she stiffened.
Penelope stared into the distance until she was sure her voice would not betray her. “I feel sorry for Lady Avery. She has had a wretched life.”
“She doesn’t deserve your pity,” he protested. “If she had confronted Gareth, her suspicions could have been laid to rest years ago.”
“But not everyone is strong enough to face their fears.” She hesitated. “My lord, I must thank you for the packet you sent. I would have mentioned it earlier, but I only received it this morning.”
“The accounting was accurate?”
“To the penny. I cannot believe you know so much about my affairs. And I must extend my apologies for suspecting you of continuing your uncle’s scheme.”
“I can hardly blame you for that. I’ve suspected you of enough plots of your own. May we set aside past differences and start again?”
She nodded.
“Thank you. Do you feel up to telling me how this confrontation with Darksmith started.”
“Of course, but I have already been through it once and would prefer to wait until everyone is present before doing it again. Both Terrence and the magistrate will wish to hear the details.”
“Understandable.” She had stiffened again, so he pushed Jet faster, arriving at the house five minutes later. Was she in shock? Did she still mistrust his motives? Or did she find his touch distasteful? Cold seeped down his spine.
Alice was waiting for them in the hallway.
Penelope paled. “Mic—”
“Michael is fine,” Alice interrupted. “And so is Mary. I had already summoned the doctor before they brought Mr. Darksmith back.”
“Where is he?”
“Upstairs. Terry is watching him.”
Richard nodded approval. “I want to speak with him.”
“So do I. And I must see after Michael.” Penelope seemed torn over what to do first.
“Michael is sleeping in the bookroom,” said Alice. “And I honestly mean sleeping,” she hastened to add. “He woke up and spoke with me an hour ago.”
“Then we will not disturb him until the doctor arrives,” decided Richard. He offered his arm to Penelope and followed Alice upstairs.
“If you don’t lie still, I’ll tie you down,” swore Terrence as they approached the guest room. “Or would you prefer to play with Ozzie some more?”
Darksmith muttered a string of curses that abruptly ceased when Richard pushed the door open. “You! I should have followed my instincts. I knew this job was turning sour the moment I met you.”
“No one can escape justice forever, John Dougan,” he replied, watching the color fade from the man’s pale cheeks.
“You know everything, then.”
“I doubt it, but I know enough to send you to Botany Bay for several lifetimes. What I don’t know is why you waited so long to claim the treasure. Lord Avery died three months ago.”
“Why should I satisfy your curiosity?”
“Perhaps to avoid a charge of assaulting a lord. Transportation might be preferable to hanging.”
“I did nothing to you,” he protested.
“You have forgotten that Gareth’s death elevated Terrence to the viscountcy,” said Penelope, nodding toward the arm that still wore a blood-stained cravat.
Richard loomed over the bed. “Why did you wait so long, Dougan?”
Darksmith crumbled. “Avery spent an hour mumbling about a 1620 hoard, but he refused to discuss the details. Even that damned paper he guarded so close didn’t help. His writing was terrible, and the words meaningless.”
“If he guarded the paper so well, how did you get it?” asked Terrence.
“Lifted it from his corpse.”
All but Richard jumped. “Later,” he murmured when he saw the objections rise to Terrence’s lips.
“It wasn’t until the duns started hounding me that I managed to connect his mutterings with his scratchings and work out the truth. If only I’d done it earlier, the treasure would be mine. Or if Chesterton hadn’t written his damned note in Latin, or somebody hadn’t discarded a perfectly good dower house.”
“And that’s that,” Richard said, leading the others to the bookroom.
When the magistrate finally arrived, Penelope described Darksmith’s attack. She let Carrington explain his capture. She was too tired to think, and much too tired to control her countenance. She knew she had slipped several times on the way back to the house, unable to maintain the aloof facade that would hide her infatuation. But his arms had been so comfortable, so warm, so exciting… She trembled. Had he noticed?
She lost track of the conversation. Memory overwhelmed her senses, recalling his hard body, his taste, his smell… She needed sleep. Too many shocks had piled atop one another, all made worse by her fitful night. But before she could retire, she must thank Carrington for his help. Without him, the treasure would be gone. She frowned. Where had that bag ended up?
“Are you all right?” Richard’s question snapped her attention back to the bookroom. It was empty of all but the two of them.
She jumped to her feet in panic. “Where—?”
“You fell asleep,” he interrupted, nodding toward the window that was lighted only by the glow of a fading sunset. She must have been asleep for hours. “Terry and Alice are upstairs with M
ichael, and Darksmith is in jail. Are you all right?” He touched the mark on her throat. “He cut you.”
His nearness left her breathless, and his fingers turned her knees to jelly, but she could not let him sense her weakness. “I am fine. It was only a nick to keep Alice in line.” Black spots danced before her eyes.
Richard heard the strain in her voice and saw her pale cheeks blanch further. He pulled her close before she could collapse, though he tried to keep his touch comforting lest she think he was again assaulting her. So far she had been grateful enough for his help to ignore his earlier misdeeds.
“There is nothing you need do at the moment,” he assured her, stroking her back. “Just relax. You are still in shock, my dear. Despite your nap, you can hardly remain untouched by the kind of day you have had. Hush,” he added as she burst into tears. “Michael will recover. Terrence is fine. Mary has nought but a bump on her head. There is nothing Darksmith can do to any of you now.” His hand brushed the hair back from her face as he half-carried her to the couch where Michael had lain, and sat down with her in his lap. “It is over, and everyone survived.”
“I was n-never so s-scared in my l-life,” she admitted shakily, sliding her arms around his waist as she burrowed further into his embrace.
“When he threatened you, my love?”
But she was sobbing harder and did not hear him. “D-don’t you ever g-go near Ozzie again!”
His heart stopped. After all she had been through, what had terrified her was seeing him with the ostriches. A wave of tenderness engulfed him. “If you introduce me properly, we won’t have that problem in the future,” he suggested, pulling her head free. Her eyes widened at the implications, her lips parting with a soft gasp.
He couldn’t help himself. He kissed her and drowned in the taste and feel and smell of her. But his euphoria bore little resemblance to his earlier lust. Gone was anger, cynicism, and all trace of guilt. His newly unlocked heart overflowed with warmth and happiness. His need for her ran deeper than desire, but before he could bring himself under control – for the last thing he wanted was to confirm her suspicion that he was a libertine – her mouth opened and her fingers slipped under his coat to kneed his back. Lightning licked along his nerves, inciting moans that echoed her own.
Penelope was stunned. Heat swirled, building unbelievable fires in places she had never thought of. She arched into his embrace. Wanton! screamed her conscience, but she no longer cared. She needed his arms, his caresses, his insatiable kisses to soothe the terrors of this day. And more. But she abandoned thought, threading a hand into his hair and reveling in its silky texture. His lips trailed kisses over her face; his teeth nipped at her ear, sending new sensations shivering through her body. His tongue slid along her throat to take the sting from the knife wound. She moaned. Again.
“Marry me,” he gasped, teasing her breast with wicked fingers.
Her eyes focused. “Are you serious?”
“Absolutely.”
“But society would never accept me.” Her voice cracked, revealing her vulnerability. Dear Lord! She was exposing her foolishness. Sliding off his lap, she paced to the fireplace and back as her head shook in a vain attempt to clear her mind.
Richard froze. The independent, confident Penelope afraid? I can hurt her so easily. Stunned by the realization, he groped for the words that would carry off his impetuous proposal. “Of course society will accept you. You belong there as surely as I do.”
“Belonging and acceptance are very different, my lord. As I have been shown countless times. You could never want a wife whose behavior called censure upon your head.”
“My arrogant blathering comes home to roost, I see,” he murmured. Laying his hands on her shoulders, he turned her until he could look into her eyes. “Short of parading Ozzie and company into White’s, there is nothing you could do to embarrass me. A marchioness can commit any number of faux pas with impunity."
She giggled. “Ozzie at White’s! What a delectable image! I never would have expected it of you.”
“You wound me.” His exaggerated pout elicited new giggles. “I would love to see Brummell sans buttons, sans quizzing glass, and sporting a purple eye. The man has become too arrogant by half.” He sobered. “You need not fear society, Penelope. Most likely, you will come to scorn them for the empty-headed creatures they are. And that is fine with me. All I ask is that you not try to emulate them, for I have never met a society lady that I could tolerate for long. They are insipid creatures without substance. It is you I want to share my life with, my dear. I love everything about you, especially those traits that I have been criticizing since my arrival. Forgive me, love. I was terrified by how much I cared.”
“Are you sure you really know me and are not assuming virtues I do not possess because I resemble a girl you once loved?”
He cursed himself for ever mentioning Penelope Rissen. Pulling her closer, he planted a soothing kiss on her trembling lips. “I was guilty of that when first we met, assigning you all of her traits – lying, scheming, greed, vengeance. I no longer believe you harbor any of them. In fact, all you have in common is the most glorious hair I’ve ever seen, eyes that outshine the darkest sapphires, and a bosom that has robbed me of much-needed sleep.”
She scowled, but he nipped her earlobe before exploring her mouth.
“Seriously,” he said at last, his voice huskier than before, “you look nothing alike otherwise, and I am glad. I love you, and only you.”
She quirked her brows. “You do understand that I have a continuing duty to Alice and Michael.”
“Duties I understand very well. I suffer an abundance of them myself. Perhaps you can help me decide which ones are necessary and which ones prevent my esteemed family from standing on their own feet.”
“Gladly.” She smiled. “I love you, my lord. Irrevocably. So I suppose I have no choice but to wed you.”
“Richard,” he ordered.
“Richard.”
“It had better be soon,” he murmured, fondling that well-loved bosom. “I can’t keep my hands off you.”
“I’ve noticed. How about next month? I think I can make arrangements for Winter House by then.”
“Good.” He grinned in sudden mischief, the lopsided smile sending tingles clear to her toes. “I have a growing urge to play fairy godmother, my love. Your priest’s hole makes an adequate pot at the end of the rainbow that will set Michael up quite nicely – we examined the treasure while you slept. Perhaps you would care to claim Lord Chesterton as that long-lost relative. But I also recall something about three wishes.” He kissed her. “Ask and you shall receive.”
Her eyes widened in surprise, her entire body melting as his silvery gaze pulled her in. “Are you serious?”
“Never more so. I love you, Penny. I want nothing more than to fill your life with joy from this day forth. Let me make you happy.”
“You will, for my first wish is you. Never have I been more content than when I am in your arms.” They tightened around her. “As for the other two, what more could I want?”
“I’m sure you’ll think of something.” He pulled her into another heady embrace that would never have ended if someone had not knocked on the door. Terrence and Alice entered.
“Wish us happy,” ordered Richard, refusing to release her.
“Wonderful!” enthused Terrence, turning to Alice. “That means that you will be—”
“—living at Carrington Castle,” she completed, blushing.
Richard stared into Penelope’s eyes, reading the same conclusion that blazed in his own. “Christmas, I think. They will not—”
“—change their minds,” she completed. “I’d best train someone from Tallgrove to take over the ostriches.”
“Excellent. We’ll delay our wedding trip until January.”
“And it will be to—”
He grinned. “Rome. Athens. Perhaps Egypt.”
Penelope’s arms slid around his neck before she recal
led their audience.
Alice grinned. “May we go tell Michael?”
She nodded. The door had hardly shut before Richard pulled her back into his arms.
“Some fantasies really do come true,” she murmured as his lips covered hers, driving rational thought away.
Epilogue
Gareth hovered at the edge of the light, smiling contentedly. A gentle hand touched his shoulder.
“We can no longer tarry here, my love,” Lucinda murmured in his ear.
“I know, but I had to stay this short while. Though I paid them little heed in life, I am glad that they no longer suffer for my sins.”
“All is well,” she assured him. “Penny and Terry each found the love we share and can pursue it honorably. And you have atoned for our sin against poor Walter by leading his heir to the treasure and settling Alice’s future.”
“But Millicent is in despair.” Gareth sighed.
“When she is ready, she will be offered a chance for happiness. Perhaps she will accept it. Or perhaps not. But it is out of your hands. Do not question His plans,” she chided softly.
“And Mathilda? I wronged her as well.”
“Never! You know you tried to treat her with respect. She brought her misery upon herself. If she truly repents, she may yet find contentment. But that is also out of your hands, for it is time to leave. Come, my love.”
He turned from the world to gaze deeply into her eyes. “Together. Forever.”
“And at peace. I have missed you...”
Copyright © 1998 by Susan Ann Pace
Originally published by Signet Regency (0451191587)
Electronically published in 2005 by Belgrave House/Regency Reads
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