by Juliet Moore
Her mouth fell open. "Whatever are you talking about?"
"I don't know."
As she fiddled with her hat, she said, "No, you don't. Your ranting has made neither of us very happy. And it's affected the day probably more than you'd ever suspect."
He was genuinely surprised to hear her say such a thing, but then she had been more forthcoming lately. And maybe that was what she was referring to. He'd hoped for confidences and then he'd used his own big mouth to ruin whatever hope he'd had. He wanted to scream then because right when she'd trusted enough to confide in him, he'd somehow decided that it was better that he didn't know anything. His intentions had been good, but she had a cute saying about hellish intentions that certainly applied then.
His feelings for her were undeniable and he'd only just realized it. Without having any time to think about it, he'd decided that he might avoid knowing about her past. Then his conscience would be free. It was ridiculous. Crazy notions like that were what prompted his barrage on the law and morality. Those were his opinions until recently, but now...he was so confused!
"Alex?"
"Victoria...I'm sorry."
Her eyes widened. "You don't need to apologize for your beliefs. Why do you think they would bother me?"
Suspicious again. That was what he had done. Genius.
"Let's say then that I regret being so longwinded and argumentative."
"Oh well, no matter."
"I had thought that the true attraction of St. Keverne would be the company," he said and offered a wide grin, "but there are far better places to see than this old town. Shall we go?"
He offered her his arm.
She hesitated. "But...you're not upset?"
"Of course not."
Victoria looked as though she'd been spun around in an errant game of Blind Man's Bluff. In a way, she had. "Leaving probably is the best idea."
He moved closer to her then. Somehow, he would fix things. "You seemed changed, Victoria."
She met his curious stare unfalteringly. "Why would you say that?"
"It seems as though we're back to that night we met. You know, when you lied about your name." He started to walk and she followed. "Walls, just like then. Without any good reason that you could give me, except that you felt it was dangerous to confess your real name... Clavering." He stopped. "Your real name is Clavering."
Her response was undeniably fearful. "Did I say that?"
He met her gaze and knew--even if he hadn't known already--that she was being deceitful. "Yes, in the drawing room. You told me your name was Clavering, but you've been using the name Fyn."
"Fyn is my uncle's name." Her hand was shaking. She caught his gaze and moved her hand behind her back.
"And Clavering is your real name."
"You must have misheard me. I believe I said Claybourne. That is my parent's name." She stepped farther away from him. "I think it's time I go home."
He followed her. They both knew her mistake, but she couldn't know that it meant anything to him. In fact, if she knew that he already knew all about her, she'd realize that the revelation of her name meant absolutely nothing.
He watched her ride away long enough to see that she wasn't going to look back. She wasn't just playing coy. It was obvious that she really did want to get away from him and that was something to think about.
He mounted his own horse figuring that he'd catch up to her easily. He planned to follow her back to Coverack because he couldn't let her go unprotected. She wouldn't have to see him, but he'd be there just the same.
He always wanted to be there for her which led his thoughts toward his largest problem with the entire situation. Once and for all, he had to figure out the truth. The truth of his feelings for her; the truth of her intentions; the truth of what his father really hoped to gain from it all; and the truth of what he would do if he knew without a doubt that she was guilty.
Bringing Victoria to the village had certainly shown him a few things about himself and he wasn't sure if he liked what he'd discovered. Not only had he dashed his intentions the moment they'd entered the square, he'd felt as poorly as he'd hoped she would feel. He'd wanted to push a confession out of her by surrounding her with death. She had seemed a little affected by the churchyard, but he'd been the one who'd wanted to draw her into his arms the moment he thought of what would happen to her if she was accused of murder. When he'd told her of the death of Michael Joseph, after she'd seen the memorial stone, he'd barely been able to stop himself from dragging her out of the town and into hiding. She didn't deserve to be hanged any more than the rebellious village blacksmith had.
But, his conscience reminded him, maybe she did. If she really had killed those two men, no matter what his weakness wanted him to do, she deserved to be punished. Alexander suddenly found himself thinking that women should be spared such an end and he had to laugh bitterly when he realized that he never would suggest it concerning any other woman.
The churchyard, with its tribute to so many innocent deaths, had done to him what he'd hoped it would do to her.
* * *
She'd avoided Alexander only to end up seeing the truly last person she wanted to see. At least they were in public. Rafe couldn't exactly abduct her from the village.
He tipped his hat. "Hello, Miss Fyn."
She ignored him and kept walking.
"Hello," he said again.
She wondered why he was persisting in bothering her.
"Cat got your tongue?"
"I have no wish to speak to you, Mr. Randel. Not after what happened at our last meeting."
"I know that was uncalled for, but I was really anxious to show you something. I still am."
"I don't ever want to see it."
"Yes, you do."
"What in the world is it?"
"You have to see it to believe it."
She sighed. "Just leave me alone."
"I suppose your mind is too full of loving thoughts for Alexander."
"What do you know about that?"
"Only what everyone in town knows."
"Which is?"
"You don't like leaving much to the imagination, do you?" He looked away. "Everyone knows that you're sweet on him. What I can't understand, is why."
"You wouldn't," she replied before she realized that she needed to be denying it.
"And I thought you were a smart girl, but..."
"But what?"
"Alexander would sooner arrest you, than marry you."
She nervously laughed at the idea. "What could he arrest me for?"
He didn't answer immediately. He stared at the ground for an infinite number of seconds before saying. "Your uncle has been known to have some shady dealings in the past--"
"Which has nothing to do with me," she interrupted, even thought she had waited long enough to hear his response.
"It does if he's still up to his old smuggling ways."
"And you're saying that he is?"
"I'm not saying anything." He shook his head. She somehow felt he was enjoying the conversation.
"Even if he was smuggling, I'm not."
"But living in the same household, you'd be sure to know about it. He's going to ask you to confess or be punished."
"That's absurd. We've never discussed anything like that."
"He's biding his time. He's not a stupid man."
"I don't believe you. How can you expect me to after how you've behaved?"
"I regret that, but this is a warning you should heed."
"I don't plan on seeing Alexander anyway."
"I'm sure he'll easily convince you to change your mind. Are you sure you don't want to take a walk?"
"I've never been surer of anything in my life."
* * *
He had to see her.
Alexander had been wondering when Victoria would finally change her mind for a week. It was seven days too many. He was restless not seeing her and the day in the village when she'd run away from him only m
ade things worse. He considered spying on her and catching her unawares in a place where she couldn't run, but thought that was a little too reckless for his taste.
So he just went into Coverack as often as he could, hoping to see her. When he did, he would chase her until she agreed to let him have his say. He'd apologize for everything and take the blame for anything. Surely, her feelings couldn't have changed so much in the space of a few words?
Finally, it was his lucky day. He saw her come out of the confectioner's with a small box, probably cookies. He watched her walk gracefully to the next whitewashed building and go inside. He waited.
He thought about what exactly he was doing. When he'd first been following Victoria, he'd done it to prize a confession. Now he wasn't so sure. He thought that maybe his strong desire to see her was based in the fact that his father would kill him if he failed. They couldn't accuse him of shirking his duties.
Except that he was.
Honestly, Alexander didn't even think of Victoria as the same woman he watched lay roses of the graves of two dead men, and he found it difficult to fit the two images together. One was of a woman covered in a black velvet cloak that caressed the white snow around her as she leaned over the plot. The other image was of a woman with hair that shined in the sunlight and eyes that sparkled when she laughed. That woman was charming and fun loving, an absolute joy to be around. If he thought of taunting her with what he knew, he wanted to laugh. It was like threatening a kitten.
And that was why it was so hard to remember what he was supposed to be doing. He'd made a little progress in the beginning by trying to ignore her beauty and think of the finality of death, but that seemed like a long time ago. That ability to do his duty no matter what the price had disappeared along with his sanity. Now all he could do was get her to talk to him and hope it all worked out in the end.
She came out of the store without anything more than the box she'd already been carrying. It was time for him to make his move.
"Victoria?"
For a moment she smiled, but then she looked away and started to walk faster.
"Why have you been avoiding me?"
She kept walking, but slowed her pace. "Have I been avoiding you?"
"Let's be serious, Victoria. You owe me that much. Don't you think?"
Their eyes met and she appeared to be thinking it over. Then she said, "Why don't you just forget about me?"
His heart began to beat a little too strongly and his breathing was suddenly labored. "I thought we were friends."
"Friends?" She fiddled with her hair.
"Perhaps more than friends then. But as I can see that it's unacceptable--"
"I didn't mean to imply that it was."
He took a deep breath. "Then it is acceptable?"
The paper box crumpled in her hands. "I...well..."
He laughed. "Neither of us seem to know exactly what we're trying to say."
"I suppose not, so perhaps I should go." She picked up her pace.
It was all he could do not to boldly grab her in the middle of the street and make her stand still. Then she would have to listen. Every thud her little boots made on the cobblestones made his throat constrict. He felt that suddenly she would be leaving him, the audience would be finished, and he never would have gotten the chance to speak his mind.
"I might be leaving Coverack any day now. I wouldn't want you to waste so much time speaking to me for nothing."
He thought that her words were a small indication of what category she put his company in. "I would never regret time spent by your side."
"That's very gallant, but I don't deserve such esteem."
"I can't think of anyone more deserving."
She glanced at him every once in a while as she walked, but never actually looked at him. "I fear I've been neglecting my uncle to spend time with you."
"Has he complained?"
"He wouldn't want to impose anything on me, but I did come to Cornwall to become better acquainted with my family."
"Which includes Fiona Fyn."
She hesitated before finally answering, "Yes."
Alex clapped his hands. "You see, I helped you with that! So your time spent with me had purpose as well as pleasure."
She blushed. "I should probably forget Fiona anyway. What does the past mean to me?"
"Is contemplating spending any more time with me that terrible?"
Not answering him, she continued to walk. She was almost at the edge of the town, then she would reach her uncle's house, and then he would be back to stalking her.
"What happening, Victoria? Why has everything changed?"
"Alex, I..." She showed her discomfort in the flightiness of her gaze.
"I don't mean you any harm," he said, keeping pace with her. "I wish you could believe me. Trust me."
She walked slower for a moment, her hesitation speaking volumes.
"It's all about trust, Victoria. We fool ourselves when we make the issue fit to anything else."
Then she really looked at him, rather than those half-glances she'd been shooting him with before. Her eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry, Alexander," she said on the breaking sob. She ran.
He watched her run away, powerless to change things.
He was in a semi-daze, knowing that chasing her would be fruitless. Their conversation had ended, albeit painfully. He didn't have many coherent thoughts going through his head and he wasn't looking for any. His feelings were conflicting enough without additional analysis.
But even so, some small ideas filtered through his blissful veil of ignorance. He realized that desiring her company so much wasn't in the plan. He desperately avoided his father and brother so he wouldn't have to explain his lack of progress. He didn't know himself why he'd been rendered so impotent by her smiles. Maybe, as Michael had often joked, he did need a woman, a quick roll in the hay to take his mind off it all. Jane Winston had never been less than willing.
And through all of his thoughts, he still found himself rushing back to her and visions of her sad, retreating form.
Chapter 9
His smile sent tingles through her body.
His words had been just as effective. They'd immediately woken her up from her mid-day reverie. She'd been like that for days, going about in a daze and never completely realizing where she was. That day she'd also been feeling tired from the combination of a heavy lunch and the early morning sun. She'd struggled to come up with each reply.
The problem was, she didn't trust him. She found it impossible to. If her secret had somehow been less dire, or less encompassing, it would have been a lot easier. As things were, there was no getting out. Based on his argumentative opinions, there was no way he could accept what she'd done. If only she could tell him and, once and for all, let him either prove her right or wrong. Except that if he were to prove her right, he might also prove that he followed the law to the letter and turn her in. That wasn't an acceptable development at all!
Victoria was afraid. She just knew her avoidance of her past was going to sneak up on her somehow. Things had been too easy and her life had been relatively calm.
That was the best indication that something terrible was about to happen.
* * *
Alexander followed the boy toward the small stable and watched two riders approach. Yes, it was definitely them. Why did everything have to go so horribly wrong on the same day?
He walked toward them before they dismounted and looked up. "Where are you headed?" he asked, trying to keep the anxiety from his voice.
His father frowned. "To partake of some fine mead! What else would we be doing here?"
"I thought perhaps you only stopped because you saw me from a distance."
"My eyesight has never been that good and, besides, I see you enough at home."
Michael grinned. "You're with her, aren't you?"
He didn't answer. Letting them believe he was with her was far better than the truth: that she might never agree to see h
im again.
Charles Trevelyn leaned forward to peer at him with cold, apprising eyes. Then, he swung onto the ground with a loud thump.
His brother followed.
His father scratched his mustache and looked towards the inn. Then he growled, "So speak up. Is it Victoria Clavering that you're with?"
"Yes, it happens to be her."
"But you're supposed to be exposing her, not courting her!"
"I'm not courting anyone. If you want me to find out her secrets, you're going to have to expect me to spend time with her."
"But so much and so often?"
If only they knew.
Michael adjusted his breeches and brushed the dust off his coat. "Want me to get it out of her? I can accomplish more in an hour than he has in weeks."
"Seriously, Alexander, what's the hold up? Are you slowly seducing the information out of her?"
"Someone's being seduced, but it's not the woman."
"Shut up, Michael."
He raised his hands. "I'm only stating the obvious."
Alex looked back to the inn. If they decided to join him, he didn't know how he would explain where Victoria was when they entered the inn. If they found out he was lying to them...
"Are you even making any progress?"
"Yes, I've made a lot of progress."
"Like what?"
"This isn't the place to discuss it." He glanced at the stable boy for effect.
"Just don't be a fool."
They were both looking at him with distaste. They seemed to think that he didn't know what he was doing. "She's an attractive woman."
"Not that again!" his father sneered. "I told you to keep your distance."
He was making the excuse again, but it wasn't really a lie, he told himself. "I'm a warm-blooded male. She--"
"If you can't handle her, I can." His brother meant it too. "I'll get the information out of her and reward her for it."
"That's not much of a reward," Alex said, becoming extremely angry and disgusted with his brother. If he didn't leave them then he wouldn't be able to trust himself. "I need to return to the lady. I am her escort, after all."
"Maybe we'll join you," Michael said and took a couple steps toward the inn.