by Laura Parker
“Come on, she’ll not come after us,” Merlyn said as he hurried toward the back door. They found the backstairs without any interference.
Not until the faint lights of the village were eclipsed by the hedges of the meadows did they pause for breath.
“Are you badly hurt?” Cassandra asked, reaching out to touch Merlyn’s brow.
“I deserve having my head split open,” Merlyn said roughly and pushed her hand away. “Of all the idiotic, harebrained mistakes I’ve ever made! To think he might have gotten away with it if my skull were a bit thinner!”
Merlyn continued in this manner of self-abuse for some time, and Cassandra kept pace with him in silence, knowing that his anger stemmed from hurt, a sense of failure, and damaged pride all at once.
“I’m sorry,” she said when he at last subsided into a sullen silence. “What did he want?”
Merlyn slowed his pace. “Ransom, no doubt. Your story of an irate parent and a runaway daughter gave them the idea. They thought to rescue you from me and make a tidy sum for their trouble.”
Cassandra was silent a long time. So, he blamed her foolish impulse for their woes. “I still think there are those who would aid us out of generosity of heart.”
“No doubt you still believe in Saint Nick, too,” Merlyn answered acerbically. “So, until we come upon the jolly man himself, we’ll return to doing things my way.”
Cassandra swung around to face him, guilt prodding her words. “Oh, why don’t you just leave? Twice you’ve nearly been killed protecting us. Why do you stay?”
Because I love you! The words nearly burst from him, but Merlyn locked his jaw against them. She was not yet ready for such an admission from him. The very fact that she had asked the question proved it. “You’re tired and badly frightened. I won’t leave you, not while you persist in believing that God protects all children and fools.”
Cassandra had not the heart to protest. Neither did she protest when he stopped a little later under the protection of a great oak and sat down at its base, drawing her with him and cradling her head on his shoulder.
“Pleasant dreams, gentle spirit,” he whispered and gently kissed the top of her head.
Chapter Twelve
“You can’t be serious? Bath is a great city full of important people. We would be recognized in an instant.”
Merlyn had been listening to Cassie’s protests for the better part of the morning as the rise and fall of the land around them grew steeper.
“Besides, just look at us. A fine pair we make.”
Merlyn slanted an uncritical gaze at Cassandra. Her hair had been tightly drawn back from her face and braided before it was tucked into her wilted mobcap. Her gown was caked with mud at the hem and the kerchief tucked into her bodice was soiled in several places where Adam had burped milk upon her. “You look fine,” he assured her blandly.
“Well, you don’t,” Cassandra snapped back. “Your shirt is yellow with wear and your breeches are soiled. You need a shave, too,” she assured him.
Merlyn lazily rubbed his cheek. He had not shaved since they left Chatham. Long curly whiskers twined about his fingers. “Shall I keep it, do you think?” Her expression of horror made him laugh. “You’re vinegar for a man’s ego, my love. Thought it might begin a new mode. Wouldn’t it be a delight if bushy chins were required for entry into the Pump Room at Bath hereafter?”
Cassandra looked at him as if he were mad. “It’s the sun,” she said, nodding her head sagely. “This return of summer heat so late in the year has turned your brain. Or perhaps”—her eyes grew wide and she caught at Merlyn’s sleeve to turn him to face her—“ ’twas the blow to your head.”
Merlyn allowed her to reach up and tenderly quest the back of his skull for the week-old lump that had long since disappeared. It pleased him to feel her small fingers in his hair. He had to bend slightly to bring his head low enough for her, and as she stood on tiptoe with an arm raised, her bodice gaped open and he had a full unrestricted view. He nearly leaned down and kissed the hollow between her breasts, but he knew he dared not. The torture of living beside her daily had taken its toll on his self-control. Yet there were benefits of that self-discipline. She no longer shrank from him when he touched her nor did she seem wary when he pulled her tight against him on cold nights for their mutual sharing of body warmth. She felt able to laugh with him, to tease him, to touch him as now.
He’d never known this easy camaraderie with another single living soul. Now his defenses were down, he was open and vulnerable, and he liked the feeling. Yet his bond with Cassie seemed as fragile as his shaky hold on his lust, and he did not want to test it just yet. The pain of her rejection would hurt him more deeply than before because he could finally admit to himself that he longed for her approval. Rather than be a rutting boar he would remain awhile a spaniel puppy, content to have his ears scratched by a lovely winsome girl.
“You’ll live,” Cassandra pronounced coolly after a moment and resumed walking.
“You don’t sound as if that thought gives you any pleasure,” he answered in mock dejectedness.
Cassandra shook her head. “You’ll get no sympathy from me. You think a great deal too much of yourself as it is.”
A saucy smile curved her mouth. She had enjoyed the feel of his satin-soft curls between her fingers. His skin had a salty tang that was not unpleasant, and the tender curve of his mouth had almost persuaded her to sample it. If only he would rid himself of that patch!
She cast him a sidelong glance. It was disconcerting to look into a single eye when she knew he had a perfectly good second. Sometimes his gaze was emerald, as deep and dark a green as the moss that grew thickly at the base of huge oaks. Sometimes his gaze was as vivid a blue as that in the autumn sky at evening when the colors deepened and richened to vermilion, amber, and sapphire. How miraculous was his gaze when nothing obstructed its full power!
Cassandra looked away. If only she could trust him completely, as her instincts urged. He told her he kept the secret of his parti-colored eyes because of past crimes. But if he truly meant to give up his past, why did he not begin with the truth? What were his plans for the future?
They walked a few miles farther in companionable silence until they came to the bottom of a hill. The afternoon sun slanted golden rays through the limbs of the trees overhead, but the weariness of weeks suddenly descended upon Cassandra and she could find nothing of cheer in the mild day. Sighing, she shifted Adam’s small bulk from one sore shoulder to the other.
Merlyn saw this and reached out for the babe. “No!” she snapped in weary temper. “You’ve carried Adam more than your share today.”
Merlyn immediately turned off the path, up the slope of the hill, and Cassandra wondered briefly if she had somehow offended him. She had her answer at once in the laughter that floated back down to her, and quick upon it his dark-bodied baritone moved to song.
Take, O take those lips away,
That so sweetly were forsworn;
And those eyes, the break of day,
Lights that do mislead the morn:
But my kisses bring again, bring again;
Seals of love, but seal’d in vain, seal’d in vain.
Merlyn turned and called after her, “Come and see the view.”
Muttering an unladylike oath, Cassandra marched after him. She was in no mood to sightsee.
It took them the better part of five minutes to crest the hill, and just before they did Merlyn turned to her again. “You’ve wondered why we’ve walked halfway across England when it was my original intent to sail to France. I thought of a better stratagem. We’ll be safe by the close of day.” He took her hand and drew her up the last few steps to the ridge. “Our new home.”
Cassandra did not realize he had deliberately chosen this place to introduce her to Bath or that for hundreds of years visitors had found Breechen Cliff the most dramatic entrance into the stepped valley
below. All she knew was that, suddenly, the gold and green countryside harbored a magic valley. In the center of the town below, the majestic gray stones of Bath Abbey with its vertical spires were highlighted by the sun. Fanning out from the Renaissance cathedral in ever-widening, gently rising circles like ripples in a pool were the shops, houses, and terraces of the ancient city of Bath. Winding through it all, a river of silvery green, was the venerable Avon.
“It’s beautiful!” Cassandra declared breathlessly.
“Will you be satisfied to live here?” Merlyn questioned lightly.
“Oh yes!” Cassandra spun around to face him. “That is, can we afford it? How will we live?”
Merlyn did not miss her use of we, and it warmed him more fully than the sun, but he did not comment upon it. Time for that later. “I believe I have a friend or two who’ll be willing to aid us.”
“Friends like Meg?” Cassandra asked with a narrow look.
“You’ll make me believe you’re jealous,” Merlyn teased as he tweaked her nose. “Besides, you liked Meg. However, the answer’s no. We’ll be in noble company if Hugh still abides in Bath. It’s not the fashionable season for Bath, but Hugh prefers the city’s quiet elegance to London.”
Cassandra bit her lip. “Suppose someone recognizes us.”
Merlyn gave her a sharp look. “You told me you knew no one of the beau monde. Not that it matters. Lord Hugh Mulberry is not a town dandy. He seldom mingles with his own class. You may find him something of a novelty. He is a writer, a playwright to be exact.”
“Like Jonson, Dryden, and Shakespeare?” Cassandra questioned innocently.
Merlyn’s face lit up in unexpected pleasure. “You know something of the theater?”
Cassandra shrugged. “The library was one of the few diversions Briarcliffe offered. I’m not as ignorant as you would think me. For instance, I know those lines you spoke a moment ago. They’re from Measure for Measure.”
“Bravo,” Merlyn replied with a nod. “Now, the test. Quote me a passage.”
Cassandra’s brow puckered in thought a moment; then she looked up at him with an impish grin.
“They say best men are molded out of faults,
And, for the most, become much more the better
For being a little bad.”
Merlyn’s brows shot up in amusement, and she could see that her hasty quote had revealed too clearly her thoughts. “We’d best move on,” she said quickly and moved away.
Merlyn came up beside her and gently lifted Adam out of her arms. “We have a short detour to make. You were right when you said we dare not show our faces in Bath in our filth. I know a woman—a very old woman, my love—who lives on the outskirts of Corston who will help us. Hurry, we’ve much to do before sun-down.”
Two large tears slid over Cassandra’s lower lashes and trickled down her cheeks as she watched Adam being bounced on the knee of Ebba Lane. “I can’t do this,” she whispered.
“Of course you can,” Merlyn answered impatiently. “We’ve no choice, and you know it.” His tone was sharp, but not in anger at her. He had known Cassie would not approve of his scheme, but he also knew that Nick Briarcliffe would not soon give up looking for the pair of them, particularly if he now knew the marquess was also searching for them.
“You’re not to worry, dear. Ebba Lane has raised a score of babes. Master Adam is in fine hands.”
Cassandra blinked away her tears the better to see the small woman who had spoken to her. From her snow-white hair to her long, slender neck and frail body encased in a simple dark gray gown to her slim feet shod in simple leather boots, she appeared to be a gently bred woman. Only her hands gave away the fact that she had lived a hard life. The knuckles were enlarged from menial labor and the arthritis of age, and protruding blue veins crisscrossed the backs. The woman noticed her stare and tucked her hands under the baby in her lap.
Cassandra was immediately contrite. “I beg your pardon. I am rude. You’ve been very kind to allow us in your home. It’s not that I don’t believe you would be good to my son; it’s only that I’d not leave him with anyone, as Merlyn clearly knows.” And she shot Merlyn a quick glance.
“I know you’re being foolish, and after you promised to do things my way,” Merlyn promptly answered.
Cassandra’s dark honey eyes flashed in anger. “I’ve no intention of blindly following you when my heart tells me otherwise. I’ve let you take care of us because there’s no other way. Now that we’ve arrived in Bath, I’m certain we can find shelter. I can still ply a needle.”
“Not while you’re in my care!” Merlyn shot back.
Cassandra rose to her feet. “Of all the arrogance! Who do you think you are?”
“Gently, gently, children,” Ebba admonished in a quiet authoritarian tone. Her gray eyes, as soft as dove’s wings, moved between them. “Shame on you, Master Ross. I never taught you such shabby manners.” Her gaze switched to Cassandra in time to catch the girl’s startled look at Merlyn. “And you, my dear. I’m persuaded by the very look of you that you’ve been taught a wife’s position is to second her husband in everything.
If possible, Cassandra’s eyes grew even wider, but Merlyn silenced her with a look. “As I told Ebba before you came in, Cassie, you’ve had little chance to be a wife, for all that you are a mother. Ebba knows that I was forced to leave you shortly after our wedding day and only recently were we reunited.”
“Really?” Cassandra answered him coolly, the dimple in her chin deepening in stubbornness. “Then she knows the reason why you deserted your wife and child?”
If in doubt of her mood before, Merlyn was now certain. “We’ve no time for the contrariness—”
“Now, that’ll be quite enough from the pair of you,” Ebbe scolded, rising from her chair. “I’ve known Merlyn since he was a boy of ten, Cassie. While I don’t approve of everything he does, I know if he left, there was good reason.”
“He was in jail,” Cassandra blurted out like a willful child just to see the reaction.
Ebba turned to Merlyn and shook a gnarled finger at him. “Didn’t I say one day you’d pay for it?”
“You mean you know that—that he’s a thief?” Cassandra asked in surprise.
Ebba gave the younger woman a slow smile. “So I should. Dirty as the River Styx he was the day we met, and cussing something fierce. Took a fresh bar of soap to that mouth before I scraped him clean.”
This new look at the superbly self-confident man she knew made Cassandra laugh. “But how, where did you meet?” She looked up at Merlyn. “You told me you were a workhouse child and that none knew about your eyes.”
Merlyn regarded her with a distant look and Cassandra knew she’d been reckless in her question. “It isn’t a pretty story,” he said, his black lashes hiding his bright sapphire eye. “I was put in the workhouse at eight years of age. At the age of ten I escaped and, in the process of trying to survive, snatched the purse of a nobleman. He caught me. Instead of turning me over to be hanged, he took me home with him, said he liked the look of me.” Merlyn’s voice grew colder. “It was at his country estate I met Ebba. She boxed my ears, scrubbed my neck, and taught me to read.”
“Why?” Cassandra asked when he hesitated.
Merlyn gave her a sharp look. “Boys of ten are not so quick to question why. It wasn’t until two years later that I learned the real purpose. My nobleman—names are unnecessary—had unnatural desires. For boys.”
Cassandra’s eyes darted to Ebba and he said angrily, “Don’t blame Ebba. Our benefactor was careful to choose his boys as well as his employees from those who had no recourse but to accept his offers. The boys were brought in early, taught the social graces, how to read and speak languages. Then, later, they were given or sold to those with tastes that matched his own. Several reside quite comfortably in France, I’m told, a few in Italy. I did not wait my turn.”
“And no one ever tried to stop t
he disgusting creature?” Cassandra was incredulous.
Ebba shook her head knowingly at Merlyn. “She’s just a child, Merlyn. You’ve lived a thousand years beyond her understanding.”
“It’s why I must have her,” Merlyn answered in a quiet voice.
She smiled at Cassandra and rocked the child in her arms. “It’s like seeing Merlyn as I never knew him.” Her clear brow wrinkled suddenly with dozens of creases. “I hope you were not to blame for the crime that sent him to prison. He’d steal the crown jewels for someone he loved.”
“I? Oh no,” Cassandra answered, embarrassed that the woman had made so much of Merlyn’s small lie. “I don’t like his thieving.”
Ebba’s brow smoothed out. “Good. Give him a half dozen little mouths to feed and make him take up a trade. He’s a fine metalworker. Made me the loveliest brooch once.” She lifted the corner of the kerchief at her neckline to reveal a small beautiful carbuncle set in a delicate lacing of gold filigree.
“You made this?” Cassandra asked, looking up at Merlyn in wonder and admiration. “Why do you stoop to thievery when you’ve so great a talent?”
Merlyn shrugged off her question. The answer would have upset her. Because nothing I’ve ever done before seemed important to me. Until now.
“You’ll leave Master Adam with me until you’ve found a place to settle down?” Ebba prompted when the silence grew.
“It’s not so simple as that,” Merlyn answered, his gaze never leaving Cassandra’s upturned face. “There’re men after us, for reasons I’d rather not explain. We need you to keep Adam safe. Can you do that?”
“I’d like to see somebody try to take him from me!” Ebba declared in a ringing voice. “Your son’s as safe with me as in his mother’s arms.”
“Safer, I hope,” Merlyn said under his breath. To Cassandra he said, “You see the wisdom of it. We won’t be far. We’ll come and get him, once we’ve established ourselves in town.”
“You mean that?” she asked.