Damien's Destiny (13 page)

He’d not pursued his place in the House of Lords because he loved being here and not in London. Tregaron had become his home and family.

Still he should have made an inspection of this area sooner. He’d forgotten about the hut but his not remembering might turn out to be a mistake. Perhaps even a significant mistake. The War Ministry had warned him they suspected smuggling of white slaves somewhere near Dover. Although this shack seemed too insignificant to merit attention. Certainly there was only one room and a small room at that. Still the slats were added since he’d last investigated this property some time ago.

His concern for Toria and Rafe must have distracted him. His anxieties and the lustful thoughts he fought constantly to subdue. Thoughts resurging as Toria ran a little ahead of him and he admired the view of her entrancing straight back and rounded derrière. She possessed a most graceful walk and the way her hips naturally undulated would rivet any male’s attention. At least one with an ounce of virility. An endowment he suspected he possessed in abundance.

“Let’s see if there’s a door,” Toria said, running around the hut and then stopping as she spotted what she sought.

“Oh look, Damien, there it is.”

Once again she proved too quick for him. The door opened easily for her as she pushed against it and she wrinkled her nose with disappointment.

“Not even any furniture. Just a few boxes.”

Damien followed her in, somehow knowing this whole scenario was destined to be important.

The boxes were piled, not against the wall but just slightly off the center on the small space comprising the floor. Dust plainly revealed the scuffling of recent footprints.

“I think we should leave, Toria. There’s nothing here.”

Toria looked at him, her blasted intelligence shining in her mesmerizing eyes. They now glared at him.

“I’m not ready to leave, Damien. Those boxes are newer than the shed’s appearance would have you think.”

Damien chuckled.

“I’ve underestimated you once again, my dear. You’re clever as well as more reckless than I expected. I agree with you, although I feel a sense of danger in this place. May I escort you home and investigate all this in the future? I promise to keep you informed of anything I discover.”

Her indignant glance told him how ridiculous she found his question.

“Damien, I can’t believe you just mouthed such nonsense. Help me shift the boxes. There must be some reason they’re piled in such an unlikely spot.”

“Toria.”

He groaned and she cast him a supremely irritated look. He shrugged and then moved to help her as she struggled with the boxes.

“You’re a foolish girl as well,” he muttered. “Here, let me do that last one. These are not heavy for me but they probably are for you.”

He picked up the last box and they both stood staring at a trap door with a large ring attached. Damien looked at Toria’s expectant eyes and considered how he could lure her away before they went any further. There was nothing he could think of that might work.

He tugged on the ring and shifted the door to one side. A musty smell immediately flooded the room. The scent of a space long covered, with the tangy odor of the ocean seeping through. A steep drop seemed to slope sharply to the right before curving out of sight. Steps were cut into the portion of the tunnel they could see. The soil here appeared not as uniformly chalk as at Dover and the tunnelers must have found a rocky obstacle and veered around it to reach the surface.

Without a lantern they could see no further. Damien immediately counted his blessings. He didn’t want Toria to witness any more. Beside, he knew well where the tunnel would lead. The one large cove on the beach nearby, although not on his property, where a ship could land safely and secretly. Well protected by a few large rocks from any casually curious who might walk by.

Toria grabbed his sleeve. Even such a slight touch fired his blood but he merely raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

“Damien, I want to see where those steps lead. This is so exciting. Let’s see where they go.”

He already knew the answer to that. Since he had no intention of exposing her to such dangerous knowledge, he carefully lowered and shut the trap door.

“We will do nothing more today, Toria. We do not have a torch with us. We’re not on Tregaron land, as your mad chase led us far beyond the boundaries. This is not our problem.”

She stared at him in disbelief.

“And then whose is it, my lord earl?”

Damien was hard put not to chuckle at the indignation flaring from her beautiful eyes. He leaned over and lightly kissed her lips, despite his resolve not to touch her again until she’d had time to accept him.

To his surprise she didn’t flinch as he’d expected. Indeed she briefly put her hands behind his neck before hastily stepping away. Trying not to show his pleasure, he turned to the stack of boxes.

“We’d better replace them exactly as they were, Toria.”

He proceeded to do so swiftly as she stared at him.

“You memorized their order, didn’t you, Damien?”

He answered lightly. “Not really memorizing. But I can picture where they were. Don’t worry, I’ll get it straight.”

When he finished the stack looked as untouched as when they’d entered the hut. To her astonishment, he picked up an old piece of newspaper from the floor and flicked it around so their footprints didn’t show near the boxes. Then he proceeded to one side of the room and lay down, heaving his powerful body around to disturb the dust in that area.

“Damien, what on earth are you doing?” she asked, eyeing him as if he’d gone suddenly mad.

He chuckled as he rose to his feet and took her hand to lead her to the door.

“My love, I want it to appear as if I’d flung you to the floor and had my way with you.”

He kissed her nose and grinned as she gaped at him.

“You should see yourself, Toria. You’d think I’d sprouted horns and a scaly tail. If by any chance anyone has this hut under observation I want it to appear as if we entered for a purpose of our own. Better they believe we had another agenda to pursue in here, instead of just being curious.”

When she blushed a deep rose he laughed.

“I would have found it quite enjoyable, I assure you. Now let’s get out of here and go home.”

He didn’t add he suddenly found the still and stale air dangerous to them both. This hut loomed darkly in his mind but there was no need for her to know how prescient his visions could be. He wanted to see her safely home to Tregaron.

His initial delight when she’d consented to ride with him now nagged at him. Why did she have to be along when he realized the hut could be more important than he’d suspected? He’d have to somehow ensure she never came this way again.

They rode in silence until Damien knew they were near Tregaron property. This time the guard stepped out in full sight and Toria gasped.

“Is that one of the border guards? Were we that far away?”

Damien seized the opportunity. “Yes. Will you promise me not to go past our boundaries again, Toria? I want your word on this.”

It took her a moment to respond. “I can see why you want me to promise. Will you give me one in return? If you go back to the hut, will you take me?”

Damien grinned. Little minx. He couldn’t blame her. She felt the hut was her discovery, after all. Yet he couldn’t give his pledge completely.

“Can we compromise here? No, just a little, Toria. Don’t look such daggers at me. How about if I give you my word to tell you either before or immediately after I go. I might be forced to return sometime in the future without having time to inform you.”

She faced him with an imperious air. Head high and not giving an inch she didn’t have to.

“I think you’re equivocating, Damien.”

For a moment he forgot everything but how beautiful she appeared when she was angry. Well, maybe not angry but certainly indignant. Did she have any idea how that slight pout on her lips made kissing her irresistible? He seized her reins and halted both their horses. And then leaned over and kissed her again with restrained passion but still warmly enough to cause her to lift her hands to her flushed cheeks.

“That wasn’t fair, Damien. We’re discussing something important here.”

“Of course we are, love. But do we have a bargain? Your word you’ll not put yourself in danger and mine to inform you of my movements?”

She grinned and slapped his hands from her reins. “Agreed. But only because I think it’s the best I can do. I didn’t really intend to go there again without you anyway. Too spooky. Although I’m glad we’re friends again.”

Had the little vixen just tricked him? He grinned back and in perfect accord they rode leisurely to the stables.

The dreadful embarrassment of their disastrous night together had vanished.

Chapter Eleven

As soon as he entered the house Stephens came rushing to him.

“My lord, you’ve received another wireless.”

Damien raised his eyebrows in pretended astonishment. He’d long known Stephens’ loyalty sometimes tempted him to exceed the limits of a butler’s duty.

“And how would you know that, Stephens? I wasn’t aware your duties required you to enter my study when I’m gone.”

“I happened to pass in the hall and heard the machine clattering, my lord.”

Not quite genuine indignation in his voice but Damien let the subject drop. He sometimes couldn’t resist teasing his very proper butler. He never questioned his loyalty. Just his blasted curiosity. Damien flicked him an amused glance and hurried to his office. Grabbing at the message, he immediately went to find Debby and located her in the hall outside her bedroom.

“Jason and Rafe are nearing England, my dear. They’re coming up the coast of Spain and are well past the Strait of Gibraltar. We’ll be getting news soon from the captain or Jase.”

Pleased by her genuine smile, he turned to Toria who’d just come up the stairs.

“This is the news we’ve all waited for.”

Debby tugged on his sleeve.

“Does Jason say anything else, Damien?”

He shook his head, knowing she longed to know Rafe’s condition.

“I’m sorry, Debby but no.”

He didn’t voice his knowledge they’d all know soon enough and the news would not be pleasing. If Rafe was in good condition Jason would have said at least that much. Damien would not have believed him if he had. Damien’s main concern at this point was just how bad Rafe’s condition would turn out to be.

In the meantime he’d better be making plans to bring Rafe to Tregaron where Damien’s medical skills as well as his magic could do their best. Rafe certainly wouldn’t be able to go to his own small house outside London. Of course they’d take the large carriage and plenty of pillows and blankets. He’d tell Stephens to make preparations.

He stopped short in the hallway. He clearly saw Rafe, wasted and injured, with one arm crooked in a peculiar manner. The man looked in worse shape than Damien expected after two weeks of rest and application of ointment on the ship. His face was haunted, with no trace of his endearing grin. In fact, as Damien watched, he lay in his bunk and turned his head to the wall. Damien’s heart dropped in his chest. Much more than physical healing was necessary here.

Pray Merlin he possessed the power to mend a damaged soul.

* * * * *

Damien stood tapping the piece of paper from the wireless in his hand. They’d all clung to the house waiting for further news. When another wireless came instead of a phone call Damien knew Jason wanted their communication to be private.

“We are here and I need help. Rafe and I are at a small inn near where The
Gull
is docked. ‘The Wicked Wench’. Rafe refuses to come to Tregaron with me.”

Nothing else. Of course Damien must go to Dover and fetch Rafe. But what to do about Toria and Debby? Even with the extra guards he’d not feel they were protected against the evil surrounding them. Not only the baron, who doubtless would know if Damien left but the ominous little hut worried him. He’d wired the Secretary of State for War as soon as they made their discovery of the boxes in the shack and been told to leave it alone for now. The Secretary would put an extra watch on the place but didn’t want smugglers to think anyone was interested.

Damien should stand by for further directives. Stand by as in being ready at all times.

Everything might go wrong if he left. And yet he must help Rafe. His head in his hands, he tried to reconcile his conflicting duties. His mind seemed a little sluggish but then being around Toria had long ago launched his brain into a permanent state of turmoil.

As a man of honor, he couldn’t let his personal emotions overrule his duties.

But which duty came first? His duty as a man, as a patriot, or as a friend?

He was not normally indecisive. His path almost at once became clear. His country and his friend could survive without him. Toria might not. On this at least he had no true choice.

He went to tell the ladies to be ready to go with him. They would leave within the hour.