“You are not very gracious, sweet sister. I merely came to see how you were. Your butler—I can’t remember the old fellow’s name—well, he wasn’t at his post and the door was open. I trust you don’t mind that I came in?”
She cocked a brow at him, knowing deep down that he was lying. Philfer not available to answer the front door? Impossible; at least she would have thought so. Had Philfer let him in? For a bribe? It was an unwelcome thought.
“I suppose you wish some tea or something?”
“I should appreciate a brandy, if that is all right.”
Brandy, she thought, remembering so vividly the nightmare of the previous night.
She nodded and walked to the sideboard. She poured him a drink and handed it to him. She suddenly remembered that night so long ago when she’d escaped to him for protection and his fingertips had traced the new welts on her back. What had he been thinking while he’d been doing it? How much money he would charge Paisley for her return?
“You will not join me?”
She shook her head. “What do you want, Evan? Quickly. I want you out of my house.”
He sipped the brandy, looking at her closely. “I already told you. Why would I lie?”
You are a man, she wanted to shout at him. It is natural to you, everything that is awful and deceitful is natural to you, but she said only, “If you wish to hold to that tale, who am I to quibble?”
“So gracious,” he said.
“I believe I told you I never wished to see you again. I didn’t lie, Evan. I want you out of my life.”
“And I want you to know how very sorry I am. I really had no idea that Paisley Cochrane was such a—”
“Enough,” she shouted.
“Very well. My father isn’t dead, Arielle, and I can prove it to you. I can prove that I wasn’t lying. I ask you, wouldn’t you have protected your father at all costs, even sacrificing me?”
“In an instant,” she said, “were it you.”
He ignored her words and continued slowly. “He is in Paris, very ill. I must go to him. Here is my letter from him. Read it. Read it and know that I didn’t lie to you. I wouldn’t have hurt you knowingly, Arielle, I swear it.”
Without meaning to, Arielle took the single sheet of paper and unfolded it. The handwriting was spidery, the ink blue-black, the number of words minimal. The letter stated simply what Evan had just told her and was signed “Your loving father.”
She handed the letter back to him. “So he is alive. What do you want me to do about it?” She paused, her eyes glittering. “Ah, I see now. How stupid of me. If your father is alive, then my mother was never married to Arthur Leslie and I am thus a bastard. That is it, isn’t it, Evan?”
He looked pained. “Surely you can’t imagine that I would announce this to the neighborhood. I am not such a blackguard as that.”
Ha, she thought. “Then what do you want?”
“I need money,” he said baldly.
“For money you will keep silent about my lack of proper parentage?”
“No, that isn’t at all what I meant.”
“You are really quite an amazingly paltry person, you know. However have you managed to spend the twenty thousand pounds you got for me in a mere three years?”
He ground his teeth. But then again, what had he expected? She was giving him a look of contempt, and it angered him so much that he wanted to strike her.
“Yes, indeed,” she said when he remained silent. “A pity. I doubt your sire is worth it.”
“And your sire, Arielle? Your sire’s good name?”
“It is called blackmail, Evan.” She smiled at him and said very slowly, “If you wish it to be known that your half sister is a bastard, so be it. Believe this, Evan: I really don’t care.”
“What the hell is the matter with you?” Damnation, he had thought his silence would be worth something to her, but it obviously wasn’t.
“Why, nothing at all. You and your threats are quite ridiculous. Go away, Evan.”
“Very well, I will take my leave now. Thank you for allowing me time with you, Arielle.”
“I wouldn’t have if Philfer had been at his post.”
“No, I don’t suppose you would have. Well, what could I have expected? To be forgiven for mistakes that I couldn’t help?” He sighed deeply, and again Arielle felt a spurt of uncertainty. She shook her head at herself. No, it still came down to twenty thousand pounds. He couldn’t lie about that. Paisley had kept records.
“Good-bye, Evan.” She turned on her heel and walked from her own drawing room. She didn’t look around to see if he followed her. From the corner of her eye she saw Philfer emerging from the kitchen. There was a furtive look in the old man’s expression, but she paid him no heed as he began to make excuses, and just continued on her way to the small, informal dining room.
To her surprise, Dorcas was sitting there, looking tense.
“Is he gone?”
“I assume so. I am surprised you didn’t come in astride your brave charger, lance in hand, to rescue me.”
“What did he want?”
“To blackmail me. You see, he’s claiming his father is alive, which, if he is, means that I’m a bastard. He wants money to keep quiet about it. I told him I didn’t care.”
“John Goddis alive? That is absurd. I was with your mother when his body was brought to her, his chest torn open with a bullet wound. He was dead, the filthy bounder. Quite dead.”
Arielle frowned down at a chip on her plate. “Why would Evan try such a thing, then? Didn’t he know you were there?”
Dorcas shrugged. “I suppose he didn’t. Why would he know? He wasn’t there, the lying sod.”
It was all very interesting, Arielle thought as she took a bite of her braised ham.
Dinner in the stately dining room at Ravensworth Abbey was a different affair. Midway through the boiled leg of lamb, garnished with young carrots and the greenest parsley Burke had ever seen, Lannie announced that she was traveling up to London in precisely three days.
Burke thought about the silence that would replace the chattering complaints and was hard pressed not to applaud her decision. He managed not to shout for joy and to say politely, “I see. Will you stay at Ravensworth House?”
“No, with Corinne and Lloyd. She has invited me, you know. And the girls, of course.”
He hadn’t known and was frankly surprised. Even Lannie sounded a bit surprised. His elder sister made no qualms about her feelings. Lannie was a fool and that was that. Why the invitation?
“How long will you stay in London?”
Lannie forgot about her lamb and her boiled bacon cheek and sat forward, her face flushing with excitement. “There is so much happening now in London, Burke. All the foreign royalty and Czars and things! Corinne wrote me that there are balls every night, even though the Season is long over, and there is so much gaiety.”
“Yes, when I was there, there was more than I could stomach.”
“Ach, you are a man. So tedious. I shall visit my modiste—Madame Giselle is her name. Now, don’t screw up your mouth like that, Burke. You won’t have to worry that I will be spending your money. I have my widow’s jointure, you know, and I have been very careful since Montrose died, aware, of course, that my very existence is dependent on your continued good will and—”
Burke looked up from the gooseberry tart on his plate and pretended rapt attention to Lannie’s monologue. He would have Ravensworth Abbey all to himself. He would ask Arielle to visit him. He could see if she admired his home, he could—He broke off those inviting thoughts. What if she refused to see him again?
“—Corinne wrote me about a gentleman, if you must know the truth of the matter, and I can see that your male curiosity is at its peak. Well, his name, if you insist upon knowing, is Percy Kingstone, and he is, unfortunately, only a baronet, Lord Carver, I believe. However, according to Corinne, he is a catch and quite a charming man, and I shall—”
The gooseberr
y tart continued under study on its plate. No, Arielle couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t allow it. He loved her and he was going to wed her. His very stubborn jaw set and his eyes narrowed.
“—and of course I shall take Virgie and Poppet, even though you know as well as I that they get in a fret when closed up in a carriage. It will simply—”
I shall treat this just like a military position, he decided, picking up his wineglass. He swirled the ruby-red liquid about, and he saw her hair. That glorious, rich Titian…He cursed softly. He would do whatever was necessary.
“—I know you will insist, dear Burke, so I shall have James informed that I will take the carriage. As for grooms and protection, perhaps I should have at least one outrider.”
He raised his head and looked at his sister-in-law. He realized that she’d been speaking, nonstop in fact. Having no idea of the subject, he merely nodded, saying warmly, “Whatever you wish is yours, Lannie,” and prayed devoutly that, like Salome, she hadn’t asked for his head on a platter.
Later in his library, Burke’s favorite room in this pile of a mansion, he sat in front of a blazing fire, his legs stretched out, a snifter of brandy cupped in his hands. Odd that it should be so chilly in June. Perhaps his blood had thinned out from all his years in Spain and Portugal. He found himself wondering what Knight was up to. He’d seen him only briefly in London upon his return to England, and he’d been damnably weak from the wound in his side. After he wed Arielle, he would invite Knight to visit. Arielle would like him; all the ladies did. He frowned at that. No, Knight was a man of honor; he would never poach on another’s preserve. Burke remembered suddenly those three blissful days in Portugal when he and Knight had been at loose ends and looking for an adventure of the tender sort. They’d found just what they’d sought. Her name was Gabriela and she was quite pretty and more than willing to be indulged by two English officers. Fortunately, she was also possessed of a sister, Sancha, who was equally toothsome. Suddenly Burke felt himself growing randy as he thought about those three exhausting days. He cursed softly at his obvious reaction and rose.
He wanted Arielle. Damn her eyes.
Burke became cunning in his frustration. He had no doubt that she would try to avoid him again. The next day, he instructed Joshua to keep an eye on the front entrance of Rendel Hall. As for himself, he kept the garden at the back of the Hall under observation, feeling like an utter ass but doing it nonetheless. An hour later Joshua came to him, ducking behind trees and bushes like a soldier behind enemy lines.
“Her ladyship is going to the stable, Major Lord.”
“Please, Joshua, that sounds very odd now. Call me anything, just delete the ‘major.’”
“Aye,” said Joshua, giving the earl a meditative look. “What do you plan to do with the lass?”
“Lass?”
“That’s what she is,” said Joshua. “A girl who’s much too young to be what she is, leastwise that’s what Geordie told me.”
“I plan to keep her company, that’s all,” said Burke. “Did you think I was going to whisk her away to a faraway land and hold her my prisoner?” He laughed before Joshua could respond, then continued seriously. “Go back to the Abbey, Joshua. You’ve done well.”
Joshua nodded, but he fully intended to visit with Geordie after Lady Rendel and his master had left. The earl was tip over arse in love, a phenomenon hitherto unseen by Joshua, leastwise as regarded the earl, and he wanted to find out more about the lass.
Arielle patted Mindle’s soft nose. “A bit of exercise for you today, my girl. Thank you, Geordie. I won’t need you today. I plan to remain well on Rendal land.” No, she thought, staring at Mindle’s worn leather saddle, no excursions for her today. No Bunberry Lake, no visit to Leslie Farm. A simple gallop over the north field, that was all she intended.
“If yer certain, lassie.”
“I’m certain.”
Geordie hefted Arielle into the saddle, then stepped back. He gave her a brief salute and smiled.
“I shall be back in an hour or so. Mr. Jewells will be coming.” She clicked Mindle forward, and soon Arielle felt the wind pulling at the pins in her riding hat.
She didn’t see him until he was nearly beside her, and then it was too late. For an instant, she thought it was Paisley, then Etienne, and she froze. She pulled Mindle to a halt and tried to find just a shred of composure.
“Hello,” she said finally, not meeting his eyes.
“Arielle. I am glad you came out for a ride.”
“What do you want?”
“To see you, of course. Just as I wished to see you yesterday, but you refused me. I really should like to know why.”
“I was not well.”
He studied her pale face. He could tell her that what she didn’t do well was lie. Her hair was a bit ratty from the wind and two thick strands hung down, nearly curling around her right breast. He started to reach out his hand and quickly drew it back. He was losing his mind, what remained of it. “What was wrong with you?”
Lying was a foolish solution because it was no solution at all. “I had the headache.”
“Ah,” he said. He was aware in that moment that she was trying to pull her mare away from him, and it angered him to the point of fury.
Arielle found herself staring at him. He was indeed handsome, perhaps more so than she remembered, for his features were more finely planed, more chiseled perhaps. He wore his thick brown hair longer now that he wasn’t a military man. But his brown eyes were the same, rich and bright with intelligence and deep with expression. He was dressed in a royal blue riding jacket, his breeches the same shade, his Hessians a gleaming black. He looked utterly powerful and in control and ruthless. She was terrified of him, and all because of that foolish nightmare.
Burke realized they were simply staring at each other. Silence hung uncomfortably between them. He said abruptly, drawing on years of measured control, “I should like you to visit the Abbey on Friday for tea.”
She almost began to shake her head, then stopped herself. Better to get it over with; then perhaps he would leave her alone. There was nothing at all dangerous for her in visiting Ravensworth Abbey. Lannie with all her chatter would act a perfect buffer. “All right,” she said finally.
“That is what you told me before, your exact words, as I recall. Can I believe you this time?”
There was a sting to his words and she drew back. What did he want from her? Her chin went up and her voice was as cold as a January day in Yorkshire. “You may be certain that I shall send word if I contract another illness.”
“I thought the headache only brought ladies down once a month.”
Airelle jerked back in her saddle as if she had been struck. He was dangerous and he wasn’t a gentleman. Without another word, she whipped Mindle away from Burke and lashed her into a gallop.
Burke was caught off guard. He cursed himself loudly for his stupidity and his utter impertinence. “Arielle! Wait up!”
He saw her turn back at his shout just for an instant, and in that brief period of time, Mindle veered to the left and took a fence mid-stride. Burke felt his blood run cold. “Arielle. Watch out.”
It was too late.
Her scream caught in her throat. Mindle didn’t make it over the top rung of the wooden fence. The mare struck her hind legs and twisted frantically in the air. Arielle saw the narrow ditch just on the other side of the fence and stretched Mindle out as far as she could. The mare gained the other side of the ditch, but her front legs crumbled and Arielle felt herself flying over her head. The world was a jumbled blur. She wasn’t afraid—everything was happening too quickly.
She hit the rocky earth hard and that hurt her shoulder, a blinding hurt, but only for a moment, because her head hit a rock and she fell unconscious.
Burke had never been so afraid in his life. He set Ashes forward, controlling him firmly, and felt the mighty stallion sail over the fence, clearing the opposite ditch by a good four feet. He drew him up and dis
mounted. Mindle was standing now, her head lowered, blowing hard.
But it was Arielle who held his attention. He realized he was praying as he knelt down beside her. His long fingers sought the pulse in her throat. It was strong and steady, thank God. Slowly, his movements as detached as he could make them, he felt each arm and leg. Nothing broken. But internal injuries. She could be bleeding inside and she could die, and there would be nothing he could do about it.
He shook himself. He removed her riding hat, then began to probe her head. There was a growing lump behind her left ear. He sighed with relief. Pray heaven that the most she would suffer was a concussion. She would be all right—she had to be. Burke eased down beside her, leaning against the trunk of a maple tree, and gently lifted her head onto his thighs. He touched her nose, her chin, her high cheekbones. Her brows were a bit darker than her hair, he noticed, and absently he stroked a fingertip over them, smoothing them. He stared down at her, mesmerized. He said softly, “I want you, Arielle. Marry me.”
She moaned.
He cushioned her head on his open palm and, without meaning to, his other hand lightly caressed her throat. He wanted desperately to touch her and he didn’t deny himself. He lifted his hand and laid it on her breast. Her heartbeat was strong beneath his palm. He closed his eyes, his body so filled with the strange lust-tenderness she evoked in him that for many moments he couldn’t think a cogent thought. He moved his hand from her breast to her upper arm. He was losing his mind. For God’s sake, she was lying here unconscious and all he could think about was bedding her.
“Arielle, wake up. Come on, open your eyes.”
He shook her shoulders.
She moaned again and opened her eyes. She stared up at him, at first not understanding.
“It’s all right,” he said. “You will be just fine. You took a tumble. Does your head hurt?”
Arielle realized she was lying on her back, her head nestled against his hand. It was his fault that Mindle had taken that fence. All was his fault. She said harshly, “Yes, I certainly see too many of you.”
Night Fire Page 7