Oh. My. We were on the shore of a lake—a large lake with an island rising up about a hundred yards off shore. Ah, but I recognized it! This was the blue jewel of a lake I had seen from the cliff above the castle on my very first venture outside with Liliwen. But today the lake’s intense blue had turned to myriad shades of red, orange, yellow, and brown as the lake reflected a shimmering mirror image of the trees along the shore. A breathtaking sight.
“My lord, thank you,” I said. “This is magnificent.”
“We are fortunate in the weather,” the viscount returned, “though it is also striking when storm clouds turn the waters black.”
Once again a quiver ran through me, my eyes doing a swift survey of the sky.
“No cause to worry, my dear Mrs. Maddox. There is not a cloud in sight.” He nodded toward a rowboat pulled high up on the pebble-strewn shore. “Shall we explore the island?”
I stared at the little boat as if I’d never seen one before. Which was far from true, as I’d been out with my brothers many times on our modest lake at home. They’d even taught me to row, though they’d had a hearty laugh at my efforts. But go out to the island with Lord Dawnay, unrepentant rake? A rake not safely separated from me by his seat on a horse? For the first time I began to wonder if this expedition had been a sensible decision on my part.
“I am content to see it from here, my lord.”
“Nonsense. Why come all this way and not see what is out there. I’m told there is an ancient hut where a monk once lived a hermit’s life.”
Four walls. Privacy. Even more reason not to go.
Dawnay swung down off his horse and, held his hands high, offering to help me down. “Come,” he urged. “The sun is till high, there’s plenty of time. Adventure awaits.”
A challenge. And I took the bait, even when I knew I should not.
He tied the horses to a tree then shoved the rowboat into the water with surprising ease. Perhaps he was not completely the effete town beau I thought him. There was a blush-filled moment when Dawnay shrugged out of his form-fitting jacket, exposing himself in his full white shirt, but how else could he row a boat? His fine jacket would split at the seams before we’d gone ten feet. I soon suffered further embarrassment when I discovered that the voluminous skirts of a riding habit are not compatible with seating oneself in a small boat. But after several awkward attempts, which ended in giggles, guffaws, and an increased sense of rapport, I tucked myself onto the broad stern seat, and we set off.
Getting out of the boat was almost as tricky as getting in, but Lord Dawnay held my hand in a firm grip as I made my way to the bow and managed to transfer my clothing as well as myself onto dry land. I had already realized I’d made a mistake in agreeing to come to the island, but now I must make the best of it. There was a discernible path that led inland—a surprisingly long path for what appeared to be a small island. Perhaps its seeming length was only my uneasiness manifesting itself, but when it led us to a hut that was not a ruin but an ancient structure that had been kept in good repair, I recognized a trysting place when I saw it. And the devil take all lying, scheming rogues!
“I believe the alleged monk would be quite shocked,” I said, striving for the worldly air of an experienced married woman to cover the shock and anger I felt all the way to my toes.
“I fear he has turned in his grave so many times he’s likely still whirling,” my escort returned blandly.
“I wish to return home. This instant.”
“Come now, Jocelyn, you know you don’t mean it. If you hadn’t welcomed a bit of dalliance, you would not have agreed to ride out with me.”
“Ride out with you!” I exclaimed. “You call this riding out? You, sir, are mad, and Rhys will tear you limb from limb.” I was about to add that he was likely to do so even if we set off for home this very minute, when I realized that might be an added incentive for Dawnay to linger where we were.
Undaunted, he grinned at me, a golden curl dangling down toward blue eyes filled with mischief. “One kiss, Jocelyn, that’s all I wish. “Toll for my ferry services. Surely that’s not asking too much.”
“You, sir, are despicable.” I turned and strode back down the wooded path as fast as I could manage in skirts never intended for walking.
“Jocelyn!”
How dare he call me that!
He caught up with me soon enough, his hand clamping over my arm. With a jerk, I shook him off, my temper erupting in full force. “I am going home,” I shouted. “With you or without you.”
“How?” he demanded.
“Believe me,” I ground out, “I can row a boat as well as you.” Liar.
His eyes flashed, returning my display of temper in full measure. “And what if I’m the one who goes, leaving you here all alone?”
“You wouldn’t dare. Rhys would have your liver and lights.”
Dawnay’s shoulders slumped, the fire in his eyes fading to ash gray. “You are right, of course. I was only having a bit of fun, Jocelyn. I thought you needed it. We English must stick together, don’t you know?”
After a glance that expressed my disgust with any excuse he might make, I turned back toward the shore where we’d left the rowboat. Some minutes later, I paused at the edge of the woods, frowning. Had my bout of temper led me astray? Had I missed a place where the path branched, for surely I was not where I should be.
“Where’s the boat?” Dawnay said from behind me. “We must have come the wrong way.”
But far across water darkening as the sun sank lower in the sky, I could see where our horses were tethered. I could also see a good thirty yards in either direction along the beach. No boat.
“Could it have drifted away?” I asked.
“I pulled it half out of the water so you wouldn’t get your toes wet,” he declared, much aggrieved. “And it’s not as if there’s a tide. So, no, it did not drift away.” The viscount started to swear. As inventively as my brothers, I have to admit. “I’ll kill him,” he muttered. “Pistols at dawn. I can’t believe he did this.”
“Who?” I asked, completely bewildered.
“Maddox,” he snapped. “Who else cares what we do?”
“Never! Rhys wouldn’t do such a thing. Someone else is playing tricks on us.”
“Name one.”
Liliwen came to mind. Forcefully. Yet . . .
“Wait,” I murmured, holding up my hand. “Whoever did this had to have help. They didn’t walk on water to get here, and there’s no other boat in sight.”
Dawnay took off at a lope, quickly checking the woods on both sides of the path. No sign of a boat. Or a person. “It makes one wonder,” he said as he returned to my side, “about tales of ancient witchcraft practiced here.”
Which was all that was needed to turn a strikingly sunny day into an approaching night full of menace on every side.
Including Hugh, Lord Dawnay.
No one knew where we were. At least one who was going to tell.
Someone—at least two someones—did not like us.
Didn’t like me.
I suppose Dawnay had angered a number of husbands and fathers in Glyn Eirian, but somehow I knew I was the target of this nasty prank. English, go home. And if the message struck Lord Dawnay as well, so much the better.
I feared it was going to be a long, cold night, the shelter of the hut a dubious benefit.
And when Rhys found us—unlikely before tomorrow—he’d kill us both.
Chapter Fourteen
Fortunately, the hut had a fireplace and the island abounded in firewood, though nothing large enough to keep a steady blaze through the night. We hoped the smoke from the chimney would bring rescue before darkness fell, but when it did not, we settled to coping with what would inevitably be a long, uncomfortable night.
One thing was clear. I had no intention of going anywhere near the narrow bed, little more than a cot, set against one wall. Lord Dawnay kept insisting I should rest while he stayed awake to feed the fire, but slee
p in the same room with a man who had designs on my person, the man who had maneuvered me into this invidious position? Indeed not. I had to face the fact that the viscount might well have planned this misadventure in its entirety. That it was his hirelings who had made off with the rowboat.
But as the hours wore on and the dancing firelight played over his pale face, revealing ever-deepening frown lines, I was tempted to acquit him of planning anything more heinous than an opportunity for seduction. For he could have overpowered me at any time, when instead he gave every appearance of a man anticipating his possible demise.
Good intentions can be so elusive. I made every effort to be stoic, to shut out the cold, the hunger, the fear of what was to come. I shifted positions on my stool by the fire, I paced the short length of the hut, front to back, side to side. Briefly, I sat on the bed—the mattress, thin as it was, a blessed relief from the hard wooden stool. I added more branches on the fire before another round of my restless wanderings. In the end, exhaustion overcame me. I do not recall collapsing onto the bed, but I must have. Because that is where I was when Rhys burst through the door, finding me beneath the all-too-thin bedcovering with Hugh Dawnay sprawled on top of me.
No elation over this rescue, just pure horror as my sleep-sluggish brain took in the scene—finally, after several horrid frozen moments, seeing it through Rhys’s eyes. No matter that both Hugh and I were fully dressed, or that he was on top of the bedcovering and I beneath. We were damned for all time by appearances.
“Rhys, it’s not—”
“Maddox, I swear nothing—”
My husband remained in the doorway, and it finally occurred to me that he was blocking the view of the men who had accompanied him. In the coldest tones I had ever heard from him, he said, “Dawnay, I will call upon you later today. I trust I will not find you fled back to England. Jocelyn, not a word from you until we are private. Come!” He stood aside, waving us through the door to walk the gauntlet between Daffyd Llywelyn and the guardsman who had been with him when I’d had my last misadventure. I wanted to walk proudly, proclaiming my innocence with every step. But my eyes dropped to my toes, and clutching the trailing fabric of my riding skirt, I slunk down the path like a married woman caught with her lover, as they most certainly assumed I was.
When I stumbled out of the woods, the men trailing behind, my gaze fastened on two rowboats pulled up on the shore. Two. I knew it!
But how to explain it all to Rhys? I doubted a discussion while on horseback met his definition of privacy. I had visions of him riding away, spurning any explanation I might attempt to make. So I must return to Glyn Eirian, thoroughly disgraced, and await the pleasure of my lord and master to open my mouth?
Absolutely not. I was not about to suffer for sins I did not commit.
But sure enough, the moment I urged my horse next to Rhys’s, he turned his head and snapped, “I said we would talk in private, woman. Get back behind me.”
At that moment, for all I could understand his anger, I hated Rhys Maddox, his family, Wales, and myself for being so stupid as to agree to an offer of marriage from a Welshman. I wanted to curl up in my bed, pull the covers over my head, and wake up to find myself back among the ruffled lace of my canopied bed at Hawley Hall.
When we finally reached the main road, Lord Dawnay swung left toward his home north of the village, the rest of us turning right toward the castle. Not a word was spoken, but the air rang with dire thoughts. Foremost among mine was a prayer that Rhys would listen to my explanation and be reasonable.
But although he stomped up the stairs on my heels, he stopped at the door to our suite. “You will not set foot outside these rooms,” he ordered, his face a mask over a seething fury I could feel rolling off him in waves. “You will not dine with family. You will not walk or ride outside. You will go nowhere. Do you understand?”
“Yes, but Rh—”
“Not now!” he roared, and swung the door open with a glare that left me no choice but to do as he said. The door thudded shut behind me, leaving me staring at Alice with wide eyes, unable to believe any of this was really happening.
“Oh, missus,” she cried, “I’m that glad to see you safe.”
I collapsed into her arms, the whole terrible story spilling out as she divested me of the riding habit I would never wear again and helped me into my nightrobe while we awaited water for a bath. “I don’t know what to do,” I whispered, as Alice began the difficult task of untangling my hair. “I fear if I were Rhys, I wouldn’t believe me either.”
“’Tis fearsome bad, missus,” Alice agreed, “but he loves you, truly he does. In the end, he’ll listen.”
“But will he believe?” There was, after all, simply no way to defend my virtue. Was Rhys even now on his way to challenge Lord Dawnay?
And what would the valley think? The people I had been determined to make my own.
No need to ask what the castle would think. I was guilty. By agreeing to go to the island with Dawnay, I had condemned myself to being branded an adulteress. And though residents on both sides of the border might indulge in similar behavior, I had committed the cardinal sin of being caught. In ultimo flagrante delicto. Or the appearance of it. Which was just as bad.
No, not quite. I was guilty of nothing worse than bad judgment. And being the focus of someone’s malicious hostility. Rhys had to believe me.
Alice, seconded by Lady Aurelia, feared exposure to a cold night on the lake would instigate a recurrence of my illness, so I found myself tucked up in bed under a mountain of down-stuffed quilts. Where physical exhaustion finally conquered emotional turmoil, and I slept.
My dinner was delivered on a tray. Still no sign of Rhys. I waited in my bedchamber rather than the sitting room. Did I hope I presented a more forlorn—and seductive—sight in bed? Possibly. I knew only that I was desperate to make him understand I had not betrayed him.
We were a good four hours into darkness before I heard sounds from his bedchamber. My heart thudded in my chest, my stomach roiled. As much as I wanted to tell him the truth, I was, as the saying goes, caught between the devil and the deep blue sea. No matter what I said, he was unlikely to believe me. And who could blame him?
Oh dear God! It was past ten o’clock. What if he’d been drinking?
Was drunk?
My fears magnified, my much vaunted quick wit, confidence, and independence plummeting as deep as the chasm that ran beside the house. When Rhys came to me some twenty minutes later, I was freezing beneath my pile of quilts, shivering as badly as I did when I suffered from the fever. Though thoroughly humbled, I clung to the truth repeating over and over in my mind. I might have crossed the line in riding out alone with Hugh Dawnay, but someone had masterminded a plot against me. Most likely against both of us, trapping us on the island with night coming on. I would tell Rhys so. No matter how angry he was, I would make him listen.
And if he beat me before I could get out a word . . .
Never. Rhys wouldn’t stoop so low. Surely.
Truthfully, by the time I heard the click of the latch, I was cowering, eyes shut, under the covers like a mouse trapped beneath a cat’s paw.
I felt the bed sag beneath his weight. Unable to so much as peep at him, I turned my head away, squeezing my eyes so tightly shut my eyelashes pressed against my cheeks.
“Jocelyn?” Not anger but that horrid tone of resignation he used when he thought I was being completely unreasonable.
I wasn’t being anything at the moment but anguished.
“I have spoken with Dawnay, and you may be surprised to learn that in spite of the damning evidence of my own eyes, I am willing to accept his version of what happened.”
I could not have heard right. Hugh was not beaten to a pulp? They were not to fight a duel? I was not about to be cast out?
“There had to be two people,” I burbled, grasping at a fragment of the whole. “Two boats used to trap us on the island.”
“No doubt,” Rhys responded, his
tone just short of sarcasm, “but if you had not gone to the thrice-damned island, you would not have been marooned there.”
“I am so sorry,” I cried, rolling over to look up into a face that, to my eyes, had taken on the god-like aspect of Judgment Day. “It was a lark, an adventure. I have continually made clear to him that I am not interested in a liaison, so I was certain I could trust him not to make advances.” I hiccupped to a close.
“And did he?”
My lips curled in a rueful smile. “He always tries, you know. It is part and parcel of who and what he is. But when I turn him away, he never pursues the moment.” Anxiety came rushing back. “Truly, I promise you he does not.”
Several weighted moments passed before Rhys said, “One thing I do believe—you did not strand yourselves. The current runs south from the island. No boat set adrift would have ended up where we found them, beached high and dry.
Thank God for that!
“So the question remains, who would do such a thing?”
As if he didn’t know.
“You think this Liliwen’s work,” he said, looking grave. “Or someone answering my mother’s behest.”
An all-too-easy assumption, I had to admit. The truth was, the list of suspects was far longer. Eilys Pritchard had more than ample reason to see me in disgrace. And she was likely thick as thieves with her fellow performer, Trystan Parry. Nor did I doubt that Dilys Trewent would do anything to please her cousin and employer. And I could not ignore Mrs. Blevins, who also did not like me, and commanded a long list of servants who might have been willing to aid her in a scheme to discredit me. Then there were all the tenants, guardsmen, and miners who might wish to curry favor with Mrs. Gwendolyn Maddox. In short, everybody, anybody. They all wished me gone.
Except Lady Aurelia, Emily Farnsworth, and Alice. Bless their English souls.
And Hugh. No, he likely wished me to the devil by now. Without doubt Rhys had scared him half to death before some sort of understanding was reached.
“I believe I met a cousin at your wedding. Matilda, was it not?”
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