Feisty Heroines Romance Collection of Shorts

by D. F. Jones

“How disgraceful,” Rachel said.

  “It is.” He marched into the library. “That is why I instructed you on ways to protect yourself. I did the same for Scarlet when she was your age.”

  She faced him. “I’ve used them all.”

  “He even bought us knives to hide in our skirts,” Francesca added.

  “I have one in my skirt and one in my cape,” Scarlet began. “If you ever find yourself the recipient of unwanted attention or being attacked, the first thing to do is stay calm. It is most difficult, yet vital. You need your wits to decide on a plan of action. The man will most likely be larger than you. You must find ways to surprise and distract him so you can get away. Let us go over what Tomas taught you. I might have more to add.”

  He willingly became his sisters’ victim as Scarlet instructed the girls on defense tactics. She knew well how to defend herself—he’d witnessed it.

  His heart thumped knowing she’d honed those tactics, much like he’d perfected his defense maneuvers in the war, in order to survive.

  Chapter 6

  The days passed quickly. Tomas joined them often, and Scarlet enjoyed every moment with him and the girls. He watched her at times, and she knew he caught her doing the same, while they kept a safe distance between them.

  One afternoon, she and Helen strolled around the castle grounds and ended up in the garden. Scarlet sat on the grass next to a bed of white clover and let Helen pick a few flowers.

  “Would you like a crown?”

  The little girl eagerly nodded. While Scarlet fashioned a crown by making slits in the stems of the flowers and linking them, Tomas marched out of the castle. Helen ran to him, arms wide. He picked her up, and she squealed when he threw her in the air.

  The way he treated Helen and his sisters with such sweet tenderness made Scarlet’s heart skip a beat. She finished the crown and placed it in the girl’s hair. Helen held her head stiff and high, as she tried to walk without dislodging it.

  “How are your sisters’ dance lessons going?” she asked.

  “Rachel is trying to lead, and Francesca gazes at Mr. Chambers like he hung the moon. I fear the man could put his hands anywhere on her person, and she would not object.”

  She laughed. “Which promises you will have an entertaining London Season.”

  “God help me.”

  Later that night, Scarlet went to the chapel bell tower. Tomas was there. He turned when he heard her. They stared at one another, both knowing they could not fight the pull any longer.

  Oh, to be in his arms again.

  She rushed toward him. He caught her and their lips met in a kiss consumed with passion. Her body erupted in heat. His lips, his tongue, his essence, stoked the flames inside of her. He pinned her body to his, leaving no space between them. How she wanted to rip their clothing off and feel his skin against hers, be one with him again.

  He broke the kiss and spoke in a hoarse whisper. “Why didn’t you wait for me?”

  She dropped her forehead to his shoulder. Tears welled from her very soul. “You never said you were coming back to me.”

  “How could I make you promises?”

  She lifted her head.

  Pain filled his eyes. “I was going off to war not knowing if I would survive.”

  The hurt in his words sliced through her sharper than any blade.

  “My God, Scarlet. I pledged myself to you, body and soul. And do not try to tell me you did not do the same.”

  She’d never deny that, but she also refused to tell him the whole truth. “After you left, I realized you most likely wanted me for your mistress. You took great care to make certain no one saw us together.”

  “You insisted on secrecy. I did not care if the whole of England knew how much I loved you. I left with an unspoken agreement between us. If I returned, we would be together.”

  His words were true. They’d both pledged their love, their hearts, their souls to one another.

  “There is something more. Something you’re not telling me. Please, Scarlet, I deserve the truth.”

  She closed her eyes, determined to stay strong and protect her mother.

  Seconds ticked by in the lengthening silence. He released her and stepped away. She instantly missed his body, his heat. She wrapped her arms around herself and listened to his footfalls get fainter and fainter.

  Chapter 7

  Faulkner entered the great hall the next morning. Last night he’d tried to drink himself into a stupor after his interaction with Scarlet in the tower, but one glass of brandy had soured his stomach.

  Damn. This reunion with Scarlet was making him ill. Lovesick.

  Double damn. He was turning into a ninnyhammer.

  He tore open a missive at his place setting. A new governess and nanny would arrive tomorrow. His gut clenched. He would no longer have an excuse to keep Scarlet at Murdock Castle. The girls would be sad when she left. They’d formed an attachment to her.

  He enjoyed watching Scarlet interact with the lasses. The way Helen always found her way into Scarlet’s lap, and the way his sisters animatedly discussed fashion and other matters while laughing at Scarlet’s good humor.

  They should all laugh more often.

  “Good morn,” Rachel called as she entered the room. “Tomas, I’ve been meaning to tell you, you did the kindest thing by retrieving Scarlet for her mother. I have every hope Mrs. Cason will wake soon. Maggie says her fever has lessened greatly.”

  “I am glad she is better.”

  She smiled. “Scarlet is still incredibly beautiful.”

  Beautiful, ravishing, enchanting, infuriating, exasperating. “Quite.”

  “Are you still madly in love with her?”

  Tomas froze. “Why do you ask such a question?”

  She smirked. “The night before you left for the war, I saw you and Scarlet together.”

  “Where? How? You were so young.”

  “I was eight. When I cannot sleep, I sit on my window seat and read. That night, I saw you ride out on your horse. On the other side of the drawbridge, you darted toward the chapel. A few moments later, a woman left the castle and hurried in the same direction. You were waiting at the chapel door. She ran up to kiss you and her cape fell back. I instantly recognized Scarlet’s red hair from the torch’s glow.”

  All these years, he’d thought they’d kept their relationship confidential.

  “I told Uncle William, and he—”

  “You told Uncle William?” Trepidation crept into Tomas’s gut.

  “He said I must be mistaken and to never spread such gossip again.” She glanced at the entrance, and then whispered, “But I know it was her.”

  Tomas impatiently paced by the window waiting for his uncle and Scarlet. He took measured breaths, hoping if his suspicions were right, that he could stop himself from taking one of the guns off the wall and shooting his uncle. The study held an abundance of military memorabilia—everything from paintings of battle scenes, to the first rifles used in combat in England. A bronze soldier statue took up one corner of his green leather topped desk.

  A soft knock sounded on the doorjamb. Scarlet’s stilted smile looked more like a frown. “You sent for me?”

  “I did. Please take a seat.” He gestured to the two chairs in front of the desk.

  She sat.

  “I wish to express my gratitude for your care of the girls and inform you their nanny and governess will arrive tomorrow.” He pulled an envelope from his pocket and handed it to her. “I think you will find your compensation generous.”

  “Thank you.” She slid it into her pocket without opening it.

  His uncle walked in. “Tomas, you needed to speak to me?”

  “Yes.”

  His uncle closed the door and walked across the room. He seemed surprised to see Scarlet and plopped in the chair beside her.

  Faulkner settled in the seat behind the desk. “Scarlet, this morning I discovered our affair was not as clandestine as we might’ve hoped.”
r />   Her face flushed red.

  “But you knew that already, didn’t you?”

  She closed her eyes.

  Faulkner turned toward his uncle. “What did you do when you found out?”

  Uncle William glanced away.

  Crossing his arms, Faulkner waited. “No one leaves this room until I know what happened.”

  His uncle rubbed the back of his neck. “I told Scarlet you only wanted her for your mistress.”

  Anger raged through Faulkner.

  “To which she replied men of your elevated status enjoyed mistresses aplenty. So I threatened to reveal a secret from her mother’s past.”

  Everything suddenly made sense. Faulkner tenderly gazed at Scarlet. “You left to protect your mother.”

  Her sky-blue eyes gazed at him.

  Uncle William cleared his throat. “I learned—”

  “Mrs. Cason killed her first husband, fled, and changed her name,” Faulkner interrupted.

  Chapter 8

  Stunned, Scarlet stared at Tomas.

  “Prior to my father hiring Mrs. Cason, he bade me to investigate her past,” he explained.

  “You were a boy,” his uncle argued.

  “I’d recently turned seventeen. Father often gave me challenging assignments.”

  “You knew sooner than I did,” Scarlet confessed. “I did not find out my mother killed my father until your uncle told me. She lied to me all my life and made my father out to be a saint who died before my birth.”

  “Actually, she didn’t lie. She killed her first husband. You were conceived with her second. He died of measles when your mother was pregnant with you.”

  Relief and disbelief battled inside of Scarlet.

  “How did you hear such a tale?” William looked unconvinced.

  “I doggedly questioned people from Mrs. Cason’s past and followed the trail she left, although I admit, she was fairly good at covering her tracks. Gathering knowledge about her past fascinated me. It prompted me to become an intelligence officer and take private commissions to find people.”

  “You reported this to your father?” she asked.

  Tomas nodded. “After I told him the horrors your mother endured, he instructed me to never repeat them. He said she’d been through enough, and we must not reveal her identity. Her first husband treated her brutally. She tried to escape numerous times, only to be found and treated worse. Everyone I spoke to thought your mother’s action was warranted.”

  Tears blurred her vision.

  He glared at his uncle. “Explain yourself.”

  “I considered you might want Scarlet for more than a mistress,” William admitted. “My only thought was to eliminate her from your life so you would not be tempted to ruin the Faulkner name. As future earl, you could not marry a servant.”

  “Now that I am the earl, I can do whatever I bloody well choose.” Tomas walked over and tugged the bellpull. “You should’ve come to me instead of threatening a young girl so badly she left her family and was forced to find a way to live on her own. You are no longer welcome here, and you will never again address Scarlet in any fashion.”

  Joseph opened the door. “My lord?”

  “Uncle William will be leaving within the hour. Make certain his bags are packed.”

  The butler bowed. “I will see to it.”

  Tomas faced his uncle with a resolute expression. William hung his head as he left the room.

  Scarlet rushed to Tomas. “Must you send him away?”

  “I cannot abide people who undermine me. I will only allow people in my life who desire the best for me.”

  “That is what he wanted.”

  “No. He only cared about the Faulkner name. If he had wanted the best for me, he’d have kept you here, where you were safe. I cannot forgive him, so please never ask it of me.” He leaned down, and the instant their lips touched she felt a surge inside her. A surge of emotion, of happiness, of love.

  Tomas broke the kiss and held her close. “I understand everything now. I just wish you had come to me and told me the truth.”

  “Your uncle did not approach me until after you left.” She buried her face in his chest. “I was angry at Mum and afraid for her. Not to mention terrified something might happen to you in battle. I was completely lost.”

  “What’s done is done.” He rubbed her back. “I want to marry you.”

  Her heart soared, while her mind remained resolute. “I am still a commoner, and you are still a peer.”

  “I have friends who married out of the ton, and they are very happy. I am not saying life will be easy, or we will not encounter people who may spurn us. I am saying no scandal can hurt us if we simply trust each other.”

  “Do you trust me?” she asked.

  He reached out and tenderly caressed a curl hanging in front of her ear. “I want to. I want to trust your heart is mine. I want to trust you still hold the same feelings for me. I want to trust the woman I gave my heart to all those years ago has kept it with her.”

  His words devastated her. “I love you.”

  “But how much do you love me, Scarlet?” He gazed into her eyes, and she thought he was going to kiss her again. Instead, he whispered against her lips, “I need your complete love and trust, in full measures. Nothing less.”

  After spending the day with Francesca, Rachel, and Helen, Scarlet trudged through the halls in a daze, wondering if she could grant Tomas’s request. A marriage between them would cause gossip and might make it difficult for the girls to find proper matches. Plus, Madame Le Brun’s invitation was what she’d wished for since she began painting. The substantial wage Tomas paid her would easily pay for her trip and lodging while in Paris. To be taught by a master would be the experience of a lifetime.

  She visited her mother and found her sitting propped up on pillows. “Oh, my. I am so glad you are awake. How do you feel?”

  “Half alive.” Mum grimaced. “Maggie told me you brought me back from the dead.”

  “I am certain God did that.” Scarlet looked at her mother, thankful she no longer had the conflicted feelings she’d been plagued with the last ten years. It was a relief to know her mother had not murdered her father. She considered asking about her first marriage, but realized if her mother wished for Scarlet to know about her abusive husband, she’d have spoken of him by now. She vowed to never ask about him, she did not want her mother to relive the horrors she’d suffered.

  Instead, she sat on the bed and took her mother’s hand. “Mum, tell me about my father one more time.”

  Chapter 9

  Faulkner gazed out his window as the day woke. He’d gotten a report on Mrs. Cason late last night and was pleased to learn she’d been sitting up and talking. It appeared she’d suffered through the worst and would recover.

  Thanks to Scarlet.

  He hadn’t seen or heard from her since their meeting yesterday. He’d been honest with her, told her what he expected and had no idea what she’d decide. The words they’d exchanged ran through his mind over and over until he thought he’d go mad.

  She loved him, but would she choose him? Neither of them expected life to be easy for them amidst the ton. Yet, if she trusted their love, nothing could hurt them.

  Dressed in a black suit, he went to his study for the morning meeting with his guards. “Anything rousing happen last night?”

  “Nothing,” Horace reported. “I saw no one until early this morning when Miss Scarlet left.”

  “Scarlet left?” Faulkner asked.

  “Yes. She carried her valise and satchel and requested I hail her a hackney.”

  Faulkner’s heart missed a beat. Perhaps she went to town. Why’d she take her bags? Dread settled in his stomach. If she brought her belongings, she was likely going to Paris. How could she leave without telling him?

  “Tomas,” Rachel called, then appeared in the doorway. “Come, our new governess and nanny just arrived.”

  Hurt, dejected, bloody well lovesick, Faulkner f
orced himself to keep busy the entire day. He oversaw the new employees. While he trusted his solicitor to find the best servants Seaford had to offer, he still remained with the girls to make certain they got along well with the new women.

  After Helen fell asleep while he read her a story, he quietly left the castle.

  There was only one place he wanted to be.

  The rented hackney rolled through the outer gates of Murdock Castle. Scarlet could barely contain her excitement. The time grew late, and whether he was awake or not, she must find Tomas.

  The carriage halted at the barbican. She leaned out the window and saw Tomas’s guards and driver, Bricker. She waved.

  “Miss Scarlet?” Bricker seemed surprised to see her. “We thought you were gone forever since you took your bags with you.”

  She’d taken her valise and satchel to pack more of her things, and left the clothing she’d first brought with her in the chest at the foot of her bed. “No. I went to Worthing to retrieve my belongings. Do you know Lord Faulkner’s whereabouts? I must tell him I have returned.”

  Bricker pointed to the chapel. “He walked to the chapel a quarter-hour ago. I believe he will be happy to see you.”

  “Thank you.” She smiled and picked up the wrapped painting she’d brought from Worthing. “I have paid the hackney. Can you please see my things are delivered to my room?”

  He nodded. “Horace will take care of it.”

  She sprinted across the yard. Light flickered through the colorful stained-glass windows as she approached. She threw the doors wide and hurried inside.

  Her heart crashed to the ground.

  Tomas was suspended upside down, his ankles tied to the lowered chandelier with a rope. His arms dangled three feet from the floor.

  “Get out! Run!” Tomas yelled.

  The door behind her slammed shut.

  Chapter 10