by Candace Camp
“Sad experience, in general. But what I am talking about now is Jack. Sometimes, when you want something tremendously, when it is terribly important, that is the thing you mishandle the most. You are so anxious about it that you do exactly the wrong thing, bring about the thing that you feared.”
“You are saying that is what he did in this instance? That Gil, I mean Jack, loved me so much, he decided I had betrayed him?”
“I am saying that love can cloud one’s thinking. Make you believe things that perhaps you would not logically. Let us say that you feel unworthy of a certain woman—beneath her in station, for instance. You worry about losing her, about her seeing how little you deserve her, how foolish it is of her to love you. And when you find out that that very thing has happened, it doesn’t surprise you. You don’t question it. It is what you have feared all along. So even though you hate her for it, even though it breaks your heart, you believe it. You accept it. The fact that you have learned it from an untrustworthy person doesn’t make you doubt the information. You are filled with too much pain for that. All you can see is that what you feared would happen has indeed happened.”
Nicola made a face. “Jack? Uncertain? Feeling unworthy of me? Really, Perry…You would do better to find someone who did not know him to try that one on. He is one of the most confident men I have ever met. He knew I loved him. We were mad for each other. It would have taken a fool to have mistaken it.”
“No matter how cocksure a twenty-year-old boy may act, I can assure you that deep down he is uncertain about a great many things, at least where women are concerned. I am sure he knew that you loved him, or at least were infatuated with him. But you were a member of the upper class. You belonged to a different world than he did. Lords’ daughters do not marry stable boys. Believe me, he had had it drilled into him all his life that he belonged to an inferior class, one that would never mingle with ours. We aren’t talking about a schoolmaster’s son, someone genteel but not of the nobility. We are discussing someone raised in the servant class, someone, moreover, whose mother and grandmother had ceaselessly warned him to stay away from nobles—a not unreasonable notion when one is talking about someone like the Earl of Exmoor. How could he expect you to marry him? He knew that to even ask it of you was wrong and selfish, for he could never hope to provide you with the kind of life that you were used to living. No one, even your most indulgent kin, would have approved of the match. You know that—why else were the two of you sneaking around, meeting secretly?”
Nicola frowned, looking troubled. “I know that everyone else would have disapproved. But he knew I didn’t care for that! I had told him time and again. We had made plans for the future.”
“Yes, he hoped. He daydreamed. He wanted to believe, and so he did. But, deep down, he knew how much of a risk it was, how little likelihood there was of your actually marrying him. It couldn’t have surprised him that you had reconsidered your rash promise.”
Nicola looked at him thoughtfully. “Perhaps you are right. I suppose he could not have known for sure until I actually married him. But couldn’t he have trusted me a little? Given me the benefit of the doubt? Why did he immediately assume that I was wicked? How could he have known me and thought that I would do that to him? Even if I had changed my mind about marrying him, even if I had somehow lost my love for him—in the space of twenty-four hours!—how could he believe that I would give him up to Richard? How could he think that I would have wanted him thrown into such a hellhole? I would have had to be a monster! He believed me to be deceitful…sadistic…faithless….” Tears welled in her eyes. “How could he believe that of me? He could not have loved me and thought so little of me.”
“Jealousy and anger can make a fool of any man,” Perry replied. “I cannot answer for why he did what he did then. I only know that from the day I met him, you are what he has talked about.”
“Yes, because he blames me for what happened to him!”
“Perhaps so. But I have seen him talk about the time before that happened. I have seen the way his face looked when he spoke of you. I would stake my life on his having loved you greatly.”
Nicola blinked away the tears that suddenly sprang into her eyes. “It doesn’t matter now, anyway,” she told him huskily. “Whatever love he felt—or I felt, for that matter—is long dead now. All that is left are the bitter feelings.”
Perry snorted. “If you believe that, then you are as big a fool as he.”
Nicola cocked her eyebrow at him. “Have you had this sort of conversation with him?”
“Something like it,” Perry admitted.
Nicola looked at him quizzically. “Have you appointed yourself the Cupid of this little group?”
He grinned. “Someone had to. It is obvious that if I left it to the two of you, this dismal mess would just continue.”
Nicola sighed. “I don’t think there is much that even Cupid can do now.”
“Why not?”
“Too much has happened. Too much blame and anger and dislike. I—what do we have left after all these years?”
“Love?” he suggested quietly. “It is something very precious. I have never known it, not the kind you had. You loved him for ten years even though you thought him dead. Do you really think it could then just disappear?”
Nicola shrugged and turned away. “I don’t know what I think anymore.”
“You’ll figure it out,” Perry told her and smiled. “I have faith in you.”
NICOLA COULD NOT KEEP THE OUTLAW’S words out of her mind the rest of the day. Was he right? Had Jack’s actions sprung from his love for her rather than from the lack of it? She knew that anger and recriminations were common enough responses when one was hurt. She had only to think about her own reactions the day before when Jack had revealed who he was and what he had done. Her first instinct had been to flare up into rage and to accuse him of not really loving her. She realized with a little bit of a shock that she had immediately assumed that he had only pretended his love, that he had acted deceptively, just as Jack had assumed that she had deceived him.
On the other hand, Nicola knew that it was quite possible that she was merely deceiving herself. She wanted to believe that Jack had really loved her. She did not want to face the fact that she had spent the last ten years of her life pining for a man who had known her so little, loved her so little, that he would believe anything about her, even the words of his worst enemy.
That way was folly, she told herself. It was pointless to find excuses for him. It was madness to let herself believe that this man had loved her deeply…might still love her, beneath all the hurt and anger. That love was gone, could not be brought back any more than the past ten years could be given back to her. It was better just to let it go. Jack was obviously avoiding her. When she went back to Tidings, she would probably never see him again. That would be best for everyone concerned. And someday, someday, her heart would stop hurting.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
SHORTLY BEFORE NOON THE NEXT DAY, as Nicola sat chatting with Perry, the door opened and Jack stepped in. Nicola glanced up, her heart beginning to beat harder, as it always did when he appeared. She supposed if she was around him long enough she would grow accustomed to seeing Gil suddenly standing in front of her, older and even more handsome, but she certainly did not intend to spend enough time with Jack for that to happen.
“Jack!” Perry said with delight. “Come join us. We were just discussing the time you and I spent in Boston.”
“It was cold, damp and stuffy,” Jack said shortly. He looked at Nicola. “One of my men just came in. Your nurse has arrived.”
“She is here?” Nicola asked, surprised.
“No. I will take you to her. Perry is well enough now and…” His voice trailed off, and he glanced away.
“Yes. It is time that I went home. It probably already seems suspicious to Richard that I have been away this long.” Nicola tried to ignore the cold lump that was forming in the pit of her stomach. “I, uh, I’ll just go
pack my things.”
It did not take long to pack; she had brought little besides her medicines. She left behind packets of meadowsweet and feverfew in case Perry’s fever returned, and a small jar of marigold cream, as well as a little woundwort to aid in the healing of his wound. Afterward, she changed the bandage one last time.
“Make sure that you change this frequently,” she told Perry. “Don’t let anyone else do it but Jack—or you when you are feeling better. And make sure that your hands are freshly washed. I have explained that to Jack, too. That wound must be kept clean.”
“I understand.” Perry smiled at her. “I wish you were not leaving. Your company is much more enjoyable than these fellows’.”
“Well, perhaps we will meet again sometime—in better circumstances.”
“You mean when I can come up to your front door to call?” he asked, his pale blue eyes dancing.
“Exactly.” She turned to leave, then swiveled back. “Remember what I told you about Richard and how determined he is to get all of you. Please talk to Jack. He would rather die than listen to me, but he will pay attention to you. I don’t want anything to happen to you.” She managed a crooked smile. “I would hate to see all my hard work go to waste.”
“I will try,” Perry agreed, his voice serious for once. “Believe me, I have little desire to dangle at the end of a rope.”
“Good. Take care of yourself.” She had grown rather fond of this man in the days she had been tending to him. Now she bent down and kissed his cheek lightly. “Goodbye.”
She left the room and hurried down the stairs. Jack was waiting outside with the horses. He held out his cupped hands to toss her up into the saddle. Nicola raised one brow.
“No blindfold?”
“It is beginning to seem a bit absurd,” Jack said. “I am not fool enough to think that you could not lead Exmoor to the general area. And I doubt that you would sacrifice Perry’s life after all you did to save him, however you might feel about me.”
“That is true,” Nicola responded coolly. It was not exactly an admission of trust, but it was better than having him wrap that scarf around her eyes again. She put her foot in his cupped hands and swung up onto her horse.
Jack mounted, and they started off.
Through the woods, they rode single file, with Jack leading the way. There was little opportunity for speech, which was just as well, for Nicola was not feeling in the least talkative. The cold lump in her stomach was growing with each passing moment. It was a lovely ride, and at another time she would probably have enjoyed the woodland beauty of brooks and glades and towering trees, but today she barely saw it.
They emerged from the woods on the north side, instead of where they had entered the other day, and Nicola wondered exactly where they were going. Obviously he was not headed straight back to Buckminster Hall. They followed a narrow rocky stream through pasture and trees, finally emerging close to one of the stone hills that dotted the region. There, at the bottom of the tor, nestled among trees and almost hidden from view, lay a quaint cottage.
Nicola pulled up short, her heart suddenly swollen with emotion. “Granny Rose’s!”
“Yes. It seemed a safe enough place. No one ever goes there. It is quite deserted. Your nurse is waiting for you inside. I shall leave you here.”
“Oh.” Nicola turned to look at him. The realization that she might never see him again burned in her chest. If Perry could persuade him to stop this dangerous, foolish game he played, they might leave here soon…and she would never even know that he was gone. “Well…thank you—for fetching Nurse, I mean. Remember to change Perry’s bandage.”
“I will.”
“All right. I, uh…”
“It is I who should thank you,” he said stiffly, turning his gaze away from her. “You did me a great service—and at risk to yourself. I am fully aware of how much you did. Perry would not have made it without you. He is lucky to have met you.”
And what about you? Nicola wanted to cry. What are you feeling? Are you glad you saw me again? But she said nothing, realizing that such questions were foolish. She merely nodded and turned away, digging her heels in so that her horse started forward.
“Nicola!”
She twisted in her saddle, looking back at him. But he only shook his head. “Nothing. I am sorry. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye.” Her throat would barely open enough to get the word out. Nicola turned back and rode toward the cottage.
Jack remained where he was, watching Nicola’s figure grow smaller and smaller as she approached the cottage. He watched as she reached the cottage and dismounted. She tied her horse outside and walked into his grandmother’s house, something he had watched her do time and time again. His throat felt raw; his eyes burned. He wondered if he was a wise man or a fool. He turned and rode away.
NICOLA BLINKED THE TEARS OUT OF her eyes as she rode toward Granny Rose’s cottage. She refused to look back and see Jack riding away. She also refused to acknowledge the fact that it felt as if her heart was being torn out of her body. The love between them was over. This momentary pain was nothing but a twinge, a reminder of what it had been like ten years earlier when she had lost him. That had been the true end of their love.
She saw as she drew nearer that Granny Rose’s cottage had become almost totally overgrown. Ivy climbed the white stone walls and reached the thatched roof, just as it always had, but now it splayed across the shuttered windows, as well, almost burying the tiny place. In front of the house, Granny’s flowers had gone to seed, spreading in no order and in most places choked out by weeds. The side garden looked to be in little better shape, the neat rows of carefully cultivated herbs lost among weeds and twining rosebushes and the stalks of flowers. Since it was winter, the flowers and shrubs were bare, which made the cottage look even more desolate.
She would come clean the place up, Nicola thought. It hurt her to see it in such disrepair. Granny Rose had loved her little house, speaking with pride of how it had passed down through generation after generation of herbally wise women. The herb garden, she had assured Nicola, grew from former ones planted as far back as the days of King Henry VIII and perhaps even further. Granny would be horrified to see it looking so, and Nicola felt a trifle guilty that she had never even thought to see to Granny’s beloved cottage. She had lived in London the last two years of Granny’s life, after Gil left, not returning to Dartmoor except briefly for her sister’s wedding. The first time she had visited her cousin and aunt after Granny’s death, she had ridden over to the cottage, but it had sent such pain stabbing through her that she had not come back since. But now she thought that she had been selfish and unthinking.
Contemplating the task that lay before her, she dismounted and tied her horse to the low fence, then pushed open the gate. She picked her way through the dead vegetation. The narrow path between hollyhocks that had once led to the door was no longer even discernible.
Before she reached the front door, however, it opened, and a short, plump, beaming woman bustled out of it, spreading out her arms to embrace Nicola.
“Nicky! My child! Oh, I am so happy to see you!” Nurse enfolded her in a hug, smelling, as Nicola remembered fondly, of lavender. She held Nicole away from her, looking her over. “As beautiful as ever, I see. I was so delighted when that man brought me your note.”
Nicola smiled at the other woman. There were more wrinkles in her face, and gray had spread like wings along her temples, but otherwise she looked much the same as when Nicola had last seen her.
“Of course I came immediately,” Nurse continued. “As if I could have denied my baby when she was in trouble. Poor little lass.” She heaved a sigh. “So sad. To have lost all her babies.” She shook her head. “Ah, well, mayhap I can help her this time.”
Nurse’s mount, a placid old mare, was tethered in the small yard behind the house, chewing on the plentiful overgrowth. Nurse’s bag and bandbox were tied on behind the saddle, and she was eager to go, despite th
e fact that she assured Nicola it had been a long and tiresome ride from her house.
“You would have thought both those men were mute, the amount they talked,” she said as Nicola led her horse to a rock so Nurse could scramble onto it.
Nicola smiled, thinking that she was sure Jack’s men had heard more words spilling from her old caretaker’s mouth than they had probably heard in the past month. She led her own horse over to the rock and mounted, and they started for Buckminster Hall. Nurse continued to talk, describing her life, her own snug cottage, the odd way Nicola’s men had left her here at this desolate house, all scattered with questions about Nicola and Deborah.
At the Hall, Nicola’s aunt was pleased to see them and typically unquestioning about the details of their journey. “Exmoor was here yesterday,” she told them, looking irritated. “Stayed so long I didn’t get in my morning ride. Devilish nuisance.”
“What did you say about me?”
“Told him you’d gone down the village. Should have said something else. That’s why he stayed so long. Said he’d just wait for you. I said you were probably dosing people and would be quite a while, but still he stayed, talking. Beautiful sunny day, too.” She shook her head in regret.
“I’m sorry.”
Lady Buckminster shrugged. “Ah, well, can’t be helped. It’s awkward, though, talking to Exmoor. I never liked the man, but now, given how the Countess feels about him…” The Dowager Countess of Exmoor, who despised Richard, was one of Lady Buckminster’s friends, and now that her son Bucky was marrying the Countess’s granddaughter, Penelope, they would also be family. “’Course, with my niece married to the man, can hardly snub him, either. Social niceties can be the very devil to work out.”
“It is a problem,” Nicola agreed, smiling. “I had best get back to Tidings as soon as possible, then, to allay his suspicions. Thank you, Aunt Adelaide.” She gave her aunt an impulsive buss on the cheek. “You have been a lifesaver.”