He couldn’t tell what breed they were. They’d been shaved down to the skin, no doubt to make their sharp teeth appear more prominent. They weren’t wild dogs either. Someone had trained them and purposely set those vicious dogs on her.
But who?
And why?
He wasn’t leaving Grasmere until he learned the answers.
* * * *
Several hours later, after warning everyone who would listen to her about those stray dogs, Winnie wandered through the crowd in search of her so-called pirate captain. Her duties as a May princess were completed and she was now free to enjoy the fair. Captain Mariner was taller than most and should have been easy to spot. He was also handsomer than most and certainly would have drawn the ladies to him like bees drawn to a flower. However, he wasn’t petal-soft. No, indeed. As kind as he had been to her, she sensed that he was not a man to cross.
She looked around for a gathering of women, young or old, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Not a single giggling girl sneaking peeks at a blond warrior-pirate that she could detect.
Had he changed his mind and left the fairgrounds?
“Lady Winnie, are you looking for someone?” Miss Allenby-Falk, the town gossip and one of the organizers of this year’s May Fair, called out to her from the food stall she was operating.
“No, Miss Allenby-Falk.” She dared not tell the prim spinster about Captain Mariner for fear of the rumors that would instantly circulate. Her reputation as the town gossip was well earned and Winnie had no desire to be the topic of next week’s scandal sheet. “Just curious as to who is in attendance. We seem to have a larger crowd than usual.”
“Indeed, we do. I believe it’s our best turnout ever.” She reached into one of the baskets in her stall and withdrew a meat pie. “Would you care for one?”
Winnie purchased the meat pie and settled on a log beside a shady oak tree on the outskirts of the meadow to enjoy it. Having given up on ever seeing her gallant rescuer again, she stretched out her legs and was about to take a bite when the gentleman in question suddenly appeared. She smiled up at him. “There you are, Captain Mariner. I was beginning to think I’d never see you again.” She tried to sound casual, but her heart beat faster and butterflies began to flutter in her stomach so that she sounded breathless. “Are you enjoying the fair?”
He didn’t appear to notice her discomposure, nor did he make any attempt to answer her question or engage in any conversation. Instead, he glanced toward the gaily striped tents.
“I’m sure you’ve been to much finer ones,” she said when he turned back and settled his gaze on her. “Fairs, that is. What do you think of this one?”
Once again, he did not bother to answer her question. She would have been quite put out were he not looking at her in a disconcertingly tender manner. Did he like her? She felt her cheeks heating and began to prattle to distract herself. “We’re just a little town, and the merchants are all local. No exotic fabrics or unusual wares to be found here.”
He propped his booted foot on the log and leaned toward her. “I’ve seen much larger fairs in bustling towns, but there is a charm to these smaller ones that they cannot match. Are you enjoying it?”
He spoke! More than two words to her.
She nodded, her smile growing broader. “Yes, despite the glowers I seem to be receiving from Lady Darkwell every time she looks my way. I’ve already apologized for my tardiness. But she wishes to remain angry. You’d think I was late to a battle instead of a silly dance around a maypole.”
He emitted a deep, resonant chuckle. Fortunately, she was sitting down, for her legs—indeed, her entire body—had just turned soft as melted butter under the gentle warmth of his gaze. She took a quick bite of her meat pie to distract herself from her wayward thoughts, but it was overly peppered and burned down her throat. She coughed and her eyes began to water.
Miss Allenby-Falk never could make a decent pasty. Why ever would anyone put her in charge of the food stalls?
Captain Mariner held out a cup as she continued to cough. “Here, drink this. You’ll feel better.”
“What is it?” Her voice was more of a strained rasp, but she was too thirsty to care and her mouth and throat were burning, so she accepted it and began to drink before he responded. Oh, that feels nice. A honey concoction of some sort. It wasn’t as potent as mead, nor as treacly sweet as ratafia. “This is delicious. Where did you purchase it? I’ve never tasted anything like it before.”
“You won’t find this drink anywhere in these parts. I always carry some along with me on my journeys to remind me of home.”
“Thank you. Where do you call home?”
He didn’t respond. Oh, he’d heard the question well enough. So why wouldn’t he answer? She’d never met anyone so politely rude before. Was it too personal a question? She silently forgave him, for there were many reasons one would be away from home. Perhaps he’d been banished. No, he was strong and protective, just the sort one would want to have around the house.
Perhaps his sweetheart had married another.
Not possible.
A business trip? A secret mission for the Crown?
Winnie hated uncomfortable silences, so she began to prattle again. “I ought to have known better than to recklessly bite into one of Miss Allenby-Falk’s pies. Have you tried them yet? Don’t if you value your life. But she’s so proud of them and no one has the heart to tell her they’re abysmal.” She took another sip, suddenly wondering how he’d managed to dig into his pouch, find two cups, and pour a drink for each of them in so short a time. Well, she had been distracted and perhaps coughing longer than she’d realized.
Or he could be the magical prince of her dreams come to rescue her from evil.
Of course, there wasn’t any evil in Grasmere, just a few snoopy neighbors and the arrogant Lord and Lady Darkwell, who enjoyed their status as the leading family in the district.
He took the cup from her hand once she’d drained its contents. “Perhaps you’d better try something else to eat. I’ll fetch us some more appealing fare, for I could do with a bite myself. What would you like?” He arched an eyebrow in amusement. “Or dare I trust your choices?”
She tipped her chin upward in mock indignation. “I’m perfectly capable of making good choices. I was hungry, that’s all. And the queues by the other stalls were too long.” She shook her head and laughed lightly. “I suppose the absence of a queue ought to have warned me that Miss Allenby-Falk’s wares were particularly bad today.”
He fished a few coins out of the breast pocket of his vest. “I’ll find us something safer than overly peppered pies.”
He appeared to be a man of means and able to afford the additional expense of a meal for her. She also sensed that he would be quite put out if she offered to pay her share. Ladies were not taught to think of financial matters, but she’d been raised by her frugal godmothers and knew the value of a hard-earned shilling.
She nodded in appreciation.
This was turning out to be quite a nice day... if one overlooked the pack of wild dogs and their attempts to rip out her throat. She refused to think further about them. Instead, she allowed the chivalrous Captain Mariner to creep back into her thoughts.
Who is he?
She would ask Lady Darkwell about him later, if the old harridan ever stopped scowling at her. The woman had spent the last few hours with lips pursed and a frown on her face, as though she’d sat on a pin cushion. Well, Winnie wasn’t going to allow her or Lord Darkwell to ruin the lovely day.
She closed her eyes, enjoying the breeze upon her cheeks and listening to the nearby sounds of the fair. The piper was still tootling on his hornpipe, and other musicians had joined in to make merry music for the villagers as they continued to dance around the maypole. She caught the aroma of freshly baked bread and meats cooking in their juices, heard the carefree laughter of children playing games in the meadow and the deeper laughter of men and women wandering from tent to tent sampli
ng wares.
And then she heard a low, menacing growl from behind her.
Winnie shot to her feet and was about to run toward the tents when Captain Mariner returned. “What’s wrong?”
Her heart was still lodged in her throat, and she was shaking. She didn’t need to look in a mirror to know the blood had drained from her face. She’d paled as soon as she’d heard that growl. “Those dogs are back. I heard them again.”
He set down their food and withdrew his sword from its scabbard. “Go back to the fair. Wait for me by the maypole. You’ll be safest there.”
She bent to retrieve the food.
“Leave it. I’ll buy us some more.” She meant to protest, but his gaze was on a nearby house, one that stood at the edge of the meadow. “I see them back there. Go quickly, Winnie. I don’t want them getting anywhere near you.”
Although she didn’t wish to leave him, she knew that her presence would only distract him. He’d worry about her safety. She’d never forgive herself if he took his eyes off those beasts just as they lunged for him.
“Very well, but I’ll get help.” Already breathless from fear, she turned and ran.
The meadow wasn’t very big, and she quickly made it past the tents to the center of the fairgrounds, where Lady Darkwell’s throne had been set up. She and her husband were seated there engaged in what appeared to be a serious conversation. “Those dogs are back!” she cried, interrupting them, for nothing could be more important than protecting the villagers from these bloodthirsty beasts. “Captain Mariner needs help to fight them off.”
Lady Darkwell and her husband exchanged glances. Did they not believe her? “Please, he’s fighting them off alone. Hurry!”
“Who? Never heard of the man.” Lord Darkwell seemed not at all moved by her pleas. In truth, she’d never seen anyone more reluctant to help another fellow.
She sought out Mr. Mortimer, another of their prominent residents, a widower with two daughters close in age to Winnie. He was in his cups and eyeing her a little too avidly for her liking, but he finally managed to listen to her.
By the time Winnie convinced him and several other villagers, and then returned to the spot where she and Captain Mariner had been seated, there was no trace of the captain or the dogs. The plates he’d set on the ground were also gone.
She looked around.
Where was he?
There were no woods close by. The fair had been set up in the open field with only a few sturdy oaks to lend shade. Beyond the meadow was the often-used road, and beyond the road were shops and houses. Had she imagined the dogs?
She could not have imagined Captain Mariner. However, Mr. Mortimer, and the others who had followed at her bidding were now looking at her as though she’d perpetrated a hoax. “I’m telling you the truth! The dogs were here. So was—”
“Enough, Lady Winifred! You’ve had your jest at our expense.” Lord Darkwell marched toward them. Ignoring her further attempt to explain, he brusquely turned away, motioning for the others to follow him back to the fair. They all did, but not before she’d received several more frowns and glowers... and an avid leer from Mr. Mortimer.
The fair had lost its pleasure for her, and although the festivities would continue late into the evening, she decided to return to Kingsley Hall now. The brightly gleaming sun had not offered much protection from those dogs, but she still felt safer walking home in daylight and couldn’t begin to imagine the dangers she’d encounter under a moonlit darkness.
Where was Captain Mariner? Was he injured? She picked up a sturdy branch lying on the grass to use as a weapon and started toward the house at the edge of the meadow where she’d last heard the dogs. She had just reached it and was about to creep behind the house when Captain Mariner suddenly turned the corner and appeared before her.
She was so relieved to see him that she dropped her weapon and ran her hands over his arms and shoulders to make certain he was not injured. Her touch seemed to alarm him, and he took a step back. “What are you doing?”
“Making certain you aren’t hurt. I’m sorry.” Her eyes widened, and the heat of a blush ran up her cheeks. “You must think me brazen, but I was truly worried about you and not thinking of manners or propriety. Are you hurt? You don’t appear to be, thank goodness.”
He remained silent a long moment, once again not responding to her question. The man was perfect in many ways, but his failure to respond to even the most innocent of questions was quite irritating. She sighed and shook her head. “No, Winnie,” she said to herself, mimicking his deep and resonant voice, “as you can see by my manly magnificence, I’m uninjured. Not a mark on me. Those pitiful dogs were dazzled by my presence and ran off in terror at the sight of me and my enormous broadsword... which is also magnificent... if I do say so myself.”
He did not so much as crack a smile.
She sighed again and was about to walk behind the house to inspect the damage, assuming there was any, when he stepped in front of her. “Don’t. They didn’t run off. I haven’t buried them yet.”
Her legs grew weak, and this time she noticed traces of blood against the glinting steel of his blade. Dark red against cold gray. “Buried them?” She leaned against the cool stone wall of the house for support. The rough stone dug into her skin through the light fabric of her costume, but she hardly noticed. “Are they all dead?”
He frowned. “No. I managed to kill the most savage ones. There’s no telling how many others are still hiding in the woods. Do you think you can walk? I had better take you home. I’ll do so as soon as I... clean up this mess.”
“Yes. Please.” She longed for the safety of familiar surroundings. She also knew that she had to invite Captain Mariner into her home despite the scandal it would cause if anyone ever found out. She was unmarried, and he was too handsome by far. No one would believe that their time together had been spent in innocent conversation.
But who was to know they’d spent any time alone? The servants would never tattle. Indeed, there was no risk at all. The few servants engaged at Kingsley Hall would not return until much later this evening, and most would be too drunk to notice that two plates and two cups had been used. As a precaution, she would wash and dry them as soon as she and Captain Mariner finished supper.
She pursed her lips, realizing that she couldn’t allow the captain to sleep inside the house. Would he be offended if she offered him shelter in the barn for the night and a blanket to ward off the chill? She would also provide a hearty breakfast to see him off on his journey in the morning.
She briefly wondered where was he going, for he hadn’t mentioned it. Did it matter? She was glad he was here now and knew she would miss him once he was gone.
It didn’t take him very long to finish burying the dogs. They walked to the manor in silence, the captain slowing his long strides to match her pace. He paused when they reached the gate where they’d first met a few hours ago. Indeed, no more than a few hours had passed and she felt as though she’d known him forever, for she was that comfortable in his presence. “Please come in, Captain Mariner. Are you hungry?” She shook her head and smiled. “We never got to eat anything at the fair.”
He surprised her by returning her smile with one of his own. To be sure, it was the barest upward tilt at the corners of his lips, but it still counted as a smile. “You needn’t go to the trouble.”
“You saved my life,” she said with a slight tremor to her voice. “Setting out a meal for you is no bother at all. It won’t be fancy fare, but our cook is very good and the stew she made last night will still be tasty once heated. I’ll need some help to start a fire in the hearth. Would you mind?”
He arched an eyebrow as though to indicate he was more than capable of handling that simple chore. “Not at all. Lead the way.”
They walked up the drive together, but when they reached the entrance to the manor house, he stopped in front of it as though reluctant to step in. Winnie opened the door and motioned for him to follow he
r inside. “Please do come in. You’re most welcome.”
He stepped inside and paused in the entry hall, seeming to take up the entire space. He was a big man and appeared even larger within the constraints of the four walls. That she was alone with this gentleman who resembled a Viking warrior-pirate and carried his weapon as though it were a natural part of his body ought to have concerned her, but it didn’t.
There was something so familiar about him... as though he were someone she ought to remember from her past.
Or someone familiar from her dreams.
The handsome prince whose face she could never quite make out, but he always saved her from fire-breathing, winged dragons and despicable villains, and he fought splendid battles and—
“Winnie,” he said, running a hand through his long blond hair and seeming to study the manor house as though it were a castle in need of fortification, “others may call on you this evening. Do not invite them in.”
She tipped her head in surprise. “Why ever not? It would be rude to turn anyone away.” Except Mr. Mortimer who had imbibed too much and would not be calling upon her with any proper intentions in mind, assuming he decided to call upon her at all. The lout. She’d complain to his daughters if he didn’t straighten up and behave.
Captain Mariner continued to study their surroundings, regarding each room as a potential battlefield and scouting out the best location to mount a defense. “You must do as I ask. They won’t be friends.”
The seriousness of his gaze sent a sudden shiver up her spine. “Are you in trouble, Captain?” Goodness, he’d saved her twice and she could not turn away from him now. She had to help him in any way possible. “Would these callers be after you?”
“No, Winnie,” he said, his tone mirthless as he studied her for a disconcertingly long moment. “I’m afraid it’s you these fiends are after.”
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