The great hall rang with the sound of the clashing swords, which was echoed by the conflict near the entry. Talbot, not knowing where to turn, met the menacing glare of the cook. The knife threatened him, and being quite squeamish about bloodletting when it concerned his own, he raised his cane and lowered it over the man’s head, crumpling him to his knees. Talbot would have reversed his direction then and there, seeing that his best choice for survival was outside, where the tenants were being beaten back, but when he turned to leave, his jaw sagged, for another horde was swarming up the hill to give aid to the peasants, this one led by Farrell and a man in a blue coat. The new wave of recruits had the look of seamen, and it became quickly apparent that they were experienced fighters. Talbot turned back into the hall and snatched up the cook’s knife. Haggard, Bundy, and the rest of the servants were too busy subduing the brigands to notice as he slipped past them into the hall. His eyes settled almost gleefully on the back of Christopher Saxton as that worthy fought for his life. Talbot hefted the knife and charged to the attack, preferring to sneak up on a man from behind.
Suddenly the hall filled with a thunderous sound as Erienne made good her threat. Talbot was thrown backward by the force of the shot she fired from the pistol, and Christopher glanced around in surprise to see the man fall with limbs sprawled in a grotesque fashion and with a hand still clasping the knife. The sheriff saw his advantage and plunged forward to deal the death blow, but the saber was struck down by the claymore as Christopher’s attention returned to him.
Lord Saxton’s eyes seemed to flash with a renewed strength, and the claymore dipped to the attack. It flashed beneath Parker’s guard, then whipped up. A sharp pain pierced the sheriff’s left arm, and the dagger fell useless to the floor. He beat down the plunging thrust of the other, retreating a step. Another attack was launched, and Allan swept it aside, but there was no pause, no time to counterthrust. Another came, and then another until Allan Parker’s lips twisted in a snarl at the helplessness of his defense. He never felt the thrust that pierced his ribs and heart, only a slight tug at his vest as the blade withdrew. The strength faded from his arms as he stared at Christopher in stunned surprise. A sudden darkness came upon the hall as his saber clattered to the floor, and Allan Parker never knew when he fell beside it.
There was silence in Saxton Hall as Christopher glanced about. Those few thieves who had entered and survived were being nudged outside by the prodding sword of Haggard Bentworth, and they knew by the gleam in his eye he was serious. Christopher tossed down the claymore and gathered Erienne in his arms as she came to him and softly sobbed out her relief against his chest.
“I must thank you for defending my back, madam,” he whispered against the fragrant hair. “Our babe might yet grow up with a father.”
Her weeping grew more intense as the stress of the day was released and her fears were put to rest. She clung to him, wetting his shirt with her tears, and she felt the gentle stroking of his hand and the touch of his lips against her hair as he held her close against him.
Finally she quieted, and holding her against his side, Christopher moved outside to stand in front of the manor and allow the spring sun to warm them. They saw the multitude of people who had come to their defense, and even Christopher suffered from a mistiness in his eyes as he realized the tenants had risked their lives for him. They came to assure themselves that all was well with the Saxton family and met a lord they could look upon with ease. In a few moments they set to work clearing away the dead. It seemed for them at least that of their own forces no more than a handful had suffered serious wounds.
Bundy and Tanner carried out Lord Talbot, and there was a duo of gasps in the Talbot carriage as both Claudia and Avery recognized the limp and bloody form. The tars from the Cristina had passed Claudia by after glancing in the carriage to make sure it held no threat to them and thus made no attempt to stop the coach as she yelled up to the driver to be on his way.
Defeat came as a crushing blow to the man and woman. Avery could see no hope for his life; he was bound to roam in endless fear, always afraid of that moment when he would meet Christopher Seton again. Or was it Saxton? He shrugged mentally. One was as bad as the other.
Claudia’s outlook was hardly any better. She had gleaned enough knowledge in the past few days to settle the suspicion in her mind that her father had been a thief and perhaps even a murderer. His holdings would no doubt be stripped away by the Crown, and she could not bear the humiliation that would be forthcoming. With no one to take care of her now and to coddle her with the riches of life, she did not know how she would survive. Perhaps she should gather what wealth she could find in the Talbot mansion and travel elsewhere.
Christopher observed the passage of the coach from his sight and then turned his gaze to the pair of men who approached them. It was Farrell and Captain Daniels, and while the latter was smiling broadly, the former frowned in sharp disapproval at the couple. Christopher thrust out a hand in greeting to his captain, then looked to his wife’s brother.
“Farrell, I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.” Christopher smiled as he extended his hand. “I am Lord Saxton.”
The young man’s eyes widened, and he searched the softly smiling visage of his sister as he mechanically accepted the hand. “Lord Saxton? The Lord Saxton?”
“Aye, I am the one who wore the mask and walked with a limp,” Christopher confessed. “ ’Twas done partly to fool the thieves into believing the man they had murdered was still alive, and then too, I desired to wed your sister and found no other way. I hope you will value the friendship we began when you knew me as the cripple.”
Farrell tried to grasp all the facts and put them together in their proper places. “You are really married to my sister, and you are the father of her…”
Erienne blushed as she glanced hesitantly toward the sea captain, who seemed to be enjoying the whole exchange. His smile broadened as her husband gave a reply.
“You needn’t sharpen your skill with firearms to avenge your sister’s honor,” Christopher replied. The teasing gleam in his eyes shone brighter. “ ’Twas quite properly made, I assure you.”
They paused as a coach came into view, followed by a score of riders. Erienne immediately recognized the entourage as the same they had passed on their return from London some weeks before and was puzzled by its presence here. The conveyance swept up the drive and pulled to a halt. A footman rushed to open the door, and the Marquess Leicester descended the steps that were set before the door.
“Have we come too late?” he inquired with an amused smile twitching at his lips. He glanced about, surveying the scene of the tars carrying away the dead and piling them in carts. “I say, you didn’t need my help at all. It looks as if you’ve put these thieves to rout once and for all.” He turned back to question the occupants of the carriage. “Ladies, ’tis a dreadful sight you’ll see here. Are you sure you’re up to it?”
“I want to see my son,” came a smooth feminine voice.
Christopher took Erienne’s arm and led her forward as the marquess reached in a hand, lending assistance to his wife, who sat nearest the door. As soon as she stood to the ground, Anne held out her arms to Erienne.
“My dear, what a dreadful experience it must have been. We were gone when Christopher’s letter arrived, and when we found it awaiting us, we rushed here from York, where we’ve been since leaving London. Thankfully my sister had just come from Carlisle to be with us.”
“Your sister?” Erienne peered within the interior, and her face showed surprise as the marquess moved aside and the Countess Ashford appeared in the doorway. The woman descended and lifted a cheek expectantly to receive a kiss from Christopher, then he led her to Erienne, who stared in bemusement at the woman. His eyes twinkled as his voice filled her mind.
“Erienne, my sweet, I would like you to meet my mother.”
“But you are the Countess Ashford.” Erienne’s mind stumbled in growing confusion. “I
remember you from the assembly. You played cards with me.”
The countess smiled gently. “I wanted to meet you, and since my son was determined to keep his identity a secret from you, I could not tell you I was his mother, though I dearly longed to. Will you forgive me for the deception?”
Tears started in Erienne’s eyes, but they were joyful tears, and of a sudden the two women were crying together and embracing each other. The countess drew back and, with a lace handkerchief, dabbed at the girl’s tears, ignoring the ones that brimmed in her own eyes.
“I came to stay in Carlisle so I could be near my son,” she explained amid sniffles. “I am a widow again, and it was lonely in London without him there. Besides my sister, Anne, Christopher is the only family I have left, and I was so afraid something would happen to him. I bade Haggard to watch over him as much as he could.”
“You came back to England to live after your marriage?” Erienne inquired.
“By then my sons were grown, and the earl was an old friend of ours. It seemed fitting that I should marry him, though Broderick was the only real love in my life.”
Christopher placed an arm about his wife’s shoulders and smiled at his mother. “I have not had the chance to tell you, Mother, but you are to become a grandmother this year.”
Mary caught her breath, and her face lit up with sudden happiness. “I think a boy would be nice. But then again, I never had a girl, and I’ve been so anxious for Christopher to wed and settle down. Aggie and I have worried that it would never be. Oh, Erienne, Erienne.” Tears reappeared in her eyes. “You will be so good for my son. I just know you will.”
The silence of the lord’s bedchamber that evening was thwarted by the whispering voices that came from the bed as Erienne Saxton lay tucked securely in the curve of her husband’s body. Together they observed the glowing coals of the dying fire, and now and then his lips dipped to touch the spot below her ear where the pulse gently throbbed.
“I think I should like to see America someday,” she murmured in the dark. “Your mother talked about it so much at dinner, it must be quite a country. Do you think it would be possible for me to see it?”
“Whatever my lady desires,” he breathed, nuzzling the fragrant tresses beside her ear. “My world is where you are, and I follow where you lead.”
Erienne giggled as his teeth nibbled at her earlobe. “Nay, sir. I will never lead you, for my hand will be tucked firmly in yours. We are one, in truth, and by your side I will gladly walk or stand if you will have me there.”
“If?” There was amazement evident in his tone as he repeated the word. “Have I fought for you all these many months just to place you behind me, where I cannot view your beauty? Nay, my lady, beside me is where I would have you, always close to my heart.”
About the Author
Kathleen E. Woodiwiss wrote the very first historical romance novel in 1972—The Flame and the Flower created a genre and made Ms. Woodiwiss one of the world’s most popular writers, with 36 million books in print. In celebration of Ms. Woodiwiss’s new novel, The Retuctant Suitor (2003), PerfectBound is publishing Ms. Woodiwiss’s classic backlist, including the complete Birmingham Family Saga: The Flame and the Flower, The Elusive Flame; A Season Beyond a Kiss. Also available are Ms. Woodiwiss’s Ashes in the Wind; Come Love a Stranger; Forever in Your Embrace; Petals on the River, A Rose in Winter; Shanna; So Worthy My Love; The Wolf and the Dove.
By Kathleen E. Woodiwiss
The Birmingham Family Saga:
The Flame and the Flower
The Elusive Flame
A Season Beyond a Kiss
And also:
Ashes in the Wind
Come Love a Stranger
Forever in Your Embrace
Married at Midnight
Petals on the River
A Rose in Winter
Shanna
So Worthy My Love
The Wolf and the Dove
The Reluctant Suitor
Praise
New York Times Bestselling Author
Kathleen E. Woodiwiss
“A LEGEND…
THE QUEEN OF HISTORICAL ROMANCE.”
Atlanta Journal-Constitution
“A PHENOMENON”
The New York Times
“WOODIWISS REIGNS!”
Life
“THE FIRST LADY OF THE GENRE.”
Publishers Weekly
“LIVE AND BREATHE THE WORLD
KATHLEEN E. WOODIWISS CREATES.”
Houston Chronicle
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
A ROSE IN WINTER. Copyright © 1982 by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of PerfectBound™.
PerfectBound™ and the PerfectBound™ logo are trademarks of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc.
Mobipocket Reader November 2003 eISBN: 0-0607-6733-2
First Avon Books mass market printing: October 1983
First Avon Books trade printing: November 1982
40
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