Helen Dickson (4 page)

‘You had a pleasant evening, I trust, my lady?’ he asked as she removed her cloak and handed it to him.

‘Very pleasant. Thank you for waiting up for me, John. I hope I’m not too late. Is Mrs Treneer in bed?’

His eyes rested on her throat. ‘Long since. You seem to have misplaced your necklace, my lady.’

Fingering her bare neck, she smiled somewhat cynically. ‘You might say that, John. But I am quite certain it will be returned to me very soon.’

‘Is there anything you might be a-wanting before you retire?’ he asked, thinking that the mistress looked none too happy. Her brow was puckered in a frown, and there was a sadness about her.

Laura shook her head. ‘No, thank you. I’m very tired and can think of nothing more inviting than going to bed. I hope Susan didn’t wait up. I told her not to—that I am quite capable of putting myself to bed.’

‘She did as you instructed.’

‘Goodnight, John.’

Wearily she began to climb the stairs, thinking of everything that had happened that night—thinking of Lucas. With her hand resting on the banister she paused halfway up and wrinkled her nose. A strange, harshly sweet smell permeated the air, drowning out the usual smell of beeswax and drying herbs. It was a scent she had first noticed several days ago—not strong, but it had lingered. However, she had been so busy helping Edward’s mother with the arrangements for the betrothal celebrations that she had ignored it. But now she breathed deeply, baffled and a little intrigued as to where it was coming from. It was tobacco she could smell, but as far as she was aware none of the servants smoked it. She turned and looked back, her curiosity sharp.

‘John.’

‘Yes, my lady?’

‘Have you taken up smoking?’

‘Nay, my lady. Why do you ask?’

‘I’m sure I can smell tobacco.’ She considered his face for a moment, but could read nothing in his impassive features. But she felt there was something he knew that she didn’t. Too tired to go into it now, and telling herself it was none of her business anyway if one of the servants had
taken to smoking tobacco, she proceeded up the stairs, knowing John continued to watch her, and aware that the smell was growing stronger.

By the light of a few candles burning in sconces she trailed her way along the shadowy passage to her bedchamber, feeling extremely tired but knowing she would not sleep that night. Too much had happened, and there were too many disturbing thoughts filling her head. On entering her room she closed the door and kicked off her shoes. She reached behind her to unfasten her dress, but on glimpsing a pair of booted feet from the corner of her eye she froze, momentary panic seizing her.

‘Don’t stop,’ a voice drawled lazily.

Laura gasped and her heart began to beat in deep, fierce thuds on seeing Lucas lounging in a large armchair, the very image of relaxed elegance with his long legs stretched casually out in front of him towards the fire. His white shirt, open at the throat, was tucked carelessly into the waistband of his snug-fitting grey breeches. He rose to his feet and slowly advanced towards her with a graceful ease surprising in a man of such virile appearance, his well-muscled body suggesting tightly coiled strength.

She stared at him. His light, almost silver eyes seemed to shine like bright gems. She had forgotten how brilliant and clear they were. Just when she had learned to live without him he had appeared, and all her carefully tended illusions were torn asunder. The shock of his coming back into her life stripped away all rational thought and a treacherous warmth was slowly beginning to creep up her arms and down her legs. Her entire body began to vibrate with a mixture of shock, desire and fear—fear because of the way he made her feel, of the sensual pull he was exerting on her—but somehow her mind remained in control.

‘L
ucas!’ she exclaimed indignantly. ‘What are you doing in my bedroom?’

‘Waiting for my wife. Do you see anything unusual in that?’ he said, with a cool nonchalance that didn’t seem appropriate considering their volatile encounter earlier.

‘Considering the circumstances, I have to say yes, I do,’ she answered crossly. ‘If you’re still angry and intend berating me further, you can leave right now. My nerves are in shreds and I am extremely tired.’

Earlier they had parted in anger, but now, when Lucas looked down at her in impassive silence, his eyes were as calm as the sea on a fair day. He noticed with the eye of a connoisseur that his young wife was every bit as lovely and enticing as she had looked in the moonlight earlier, and this pleased him. ‘I don’t.’

In the space of a second, the memory of the tobacco smoke permeating the house for the past few days collided with the present when Laura caught sight of a discarded pipe and a half-open leather tobacco pouch in the hearth next to an almost empty glass of brandy. She glared at her husband in tempestuous fury. ‘That was you, wasn’t it—the tobacco smoke I’ve been smelling for days now?
You’ve been skulking about the house—hoping I wouldn’t notice.’

‘I never skulk,’ Lucas responded sardonically. ‘And yes, it was me.’

‘Why—of all the despicable, underhand… Oh, how could you?’ she cried, wondering how he could possibly have come and gone from the house without her noticing.

Ignoring her outburst, Lucas returned to his chair and settled himself deep into the upholstery, stretching his legs out in front of him once more. With a smile of absolute contentment he folded his hands on his stomach and closed his eyes, composing himself more comfortably—as if he intended remaining there for the entire night.

Plunking her hands in the small of her waist, Laura followed the extremely diverse and complex man and stood glowering down at his recumbent figure, indignant that he could look so disgustingly relaxed while she was existing on a knife-edge. ‘Lucas! Don’t you dare go to sleep.’

With a sigh of irritation he opened his eyes. ‘Don’t be aggressive, Laura,’ he told her quietly. ‘I want to talk, not argue. I have no desire to quarrel with you.’

‘No? Then you must forgive me. Earlier I—’

‘Be quiet,’ he interrupted in a bored tone, moving his head to a more comfortable position. ‘Did you break off your engagement with Carlyle?’

‘Yes. Considering the circumstances, I was left with no choice.’

‘Good. However, I doubt we’ve seen the last of him. That was an impossible situation. How did he take it?’

‘He was extremely angry, naturally.’

‘Angry because he knew he stood to lose a number of things he prized highly.’

‘Now, why do I have the distinct feeling it is something other than myself that you are referring to?’ she said, her voice threaded with sarcasm.

‘Perhaps because you know it is. Come, now, Laura. You
have been the Lady of Roslyn for two years. You must know to what I am referring.’

Laura knew exactly what he meant, and that one of the things he was alluding to was Edward’s smuggling activities. ‘I do comprehend you.’

‘You should.’

‘I have also learned that it doesn’t do to be too curious in these parts.’

‘Very wise, my dear, very wise. I know Edward Carlyle, so let me make it quite clear it is not your charming self he wants. It is because he thought you owned the land he covets.’

‘I know that, too—now,’ she told him bitterly.

‘That’s very astute of you.’

‘Is it? In the beginning I didn’t have so many friends in Cornwall that I could afford to offend a man like Edward.’

‘And I suppose, like every other female he comes into contact with, you were so blinded by his looks and charm that you couldn’t see him for what he is. You see, on my demise, you very quickly became the object of his cynical calculation. He cold-bloodedly set about playing on your loss. It was child’s play to win you, and, like the innocent you were, you welcomed him.’

Laura’s natural honesty recoiled from such a summary of herself. With a mixture of pain and anger she folded her arms across her chest and moved further away from him. ‘You must think I am very stupid.’

He merely looked up at her and raised an eyebrow questioningly. ‘I hope you’re not feeling disappointed because you’ve had to break off your engagement. I didn’t take you for a romantic.’

Ignoring the irony of the remark, Laura mastered her anger sufficiently to say, ‘You have no idea what I am like.’

A wicked smile tempted his lips. ‘Maybe not as well as I should after two years of marriage, but I am looking forward to getting to know you better.’

It was on the tip of Laura’s tongue to retort that the last thing in the world she wanted was for him to do that, but when she looked across at him her heart skipped a beat. He was lounging back against the cushions, his muscled chest partly revealed through his open shirt. With his black, slightly curly and dishevelled hair, ruggedly chiselled features and a slumberous expression in his eyes, she thought he was the most handsome man she had ever seen.

When she finally brought herself to speak, instead of the harsh rejoinder she intended, all she said was, ‘Then you’ll have to be patient. My knowledge of marriage is limited, as well you know—three days, to be exact.’

Lucas stirred impatiently, about to utter a cutting remark, but when he gazed at her from beneath his lowered eyelids he could see how tense she was, and that her deep blue eyes glaring defiance at him were shining with pain that he and Edward Carlyle had caused. He was touched despite himself by her youth, and perhaps also by some private scruples. She had an innocence and warm femininity that touched a deep chord inside him.

‘Sit down, Laura, and stop glaring at me.’

Wanting to appear haughty and coldly remote, Laura was taken aback by his unexpected gentleness and completely at a loss as to how to answer. Repressing her irrational annoyance over his conduct towards her earlier, she reluctantly did as he bade and seated herself across from him, perching uncomfortably on the edge of the chair.

Lucas looked across at his lovely young wife in her provocative blue gown, her face both delicate and fine with stormy dark blue eyes and soft lips. The candles’ glow shone on her proud head with its crown of shining curls as black as his own. His conscience reminded him that his conduct towards her earlier had been inexcusable and unfair.

No longer feeling the injured party—which was exactly how he’d felt when he’d discovered Laura had become af
fianced to Carlyle in his absence—he studied her calmly, impressed by what he saw. When he’d made her his wife and brought her to Roslyn she’d been hoping for a lifetime of happiness, and all he’d given her was three days followed by two years of widowhood.

She had truly believed he was dead and yet, according to John, the courageous girl had stayed at Roslyn and valiantly kept things going. He would be eternally grateful to her for the loyalty she had shown at such a difficult time in her young life. And yet he couldn’t blame her for wanting to move on. Besides, he wouldn’t have wanted her to wear widow’s weeds for the rest of her life. She was far too lovely to hide herself away.

And yet he did wonder how audacious Carlyle had been regarding his courtship of Laura. The mere idea of his wife lying in Carlyle’s bed was enough to splinter his emotions from all rational control. At any other time and with a woman other than his wife he would have shrugged it off. But this wasn’t another time and Laura was
his
wife. John, sensing his unease on this matter, had tactfully told him that she had resided not one night at Burfield Hall, and that Carlyle’s visits to the manor had been infrequent and of short duration, and always during daylight hours. And yet Lucas was not reassured by this.

‘Tell me something,’ he said softly. ‘How do you like living at Roslyn?’

‘I like it very well. I’ve come to love the house and everyone in it.’

‘And yet you were going to leave it to wed Carlyle. What do you think he would have done with it, Laura?’

His words were calmly spoken, but Laura heard an edge to his voice. ‘I—I don’t know. We never discussed it.’

Lucas shifted to a more comfortable position, propping one booted foot casually atop the opposite knee. ‘Why don’t you sit back and relax? You look like a rabbit about
to bolt down the nearest hole. You’re spoiling the atmosphere.’

‘I am?’

‘Yes, the atmosphere I was enjoying before you came in, which was warm—quiet. For me it was…’ He fell silent and stared intently into the glowing heart of the fire, his eyes fixed on something invisible, something way beyond the confines of the room.

Easing herself into a more comfortable position, Laura looked at him in surprise. There was something in the clear depths of his eyes that she did not recognise, something mysterious—sinister, even, that eluded all her understanding. For a moment he seemed to forget where he was. ‘What are you thinking?’ she asked quietly.

Abruptly he came back to earth and said harshly, ‘You couldn’t understand.’

‘I—might. I’m a good listener—so I’m told.’

He smiled suddenly, that crooked smile Laura remembered of old. His light grey eyes rested warmly on her face, the fire having turned her cheeks a soft pink. ‘I’m sure you are.’

They fell silent, each preoccupied with their own thoughts and content to listen to the wind buffeting the great house on its high perch above the sea. Seated thus, Laura felt a strange sense of security she had not felt in a long time. She could not believe Lucas was here with her. Was it an illusion—a figment of her imagination? she asked herself.

She let her mind drift back over two years, remembering how it had been between them that one and only night she had lain with him as his wife. In a new home surrounded by strangers, she had had no one to answer the frightening turmoil of questions about the night ahead.

At thirty years old and having made love to many women, a paragon of virtue Lucas was not. Before they had married Laura had already fallen in love with her husband-
to-be. She was not foolish enough to think the feeling was reciprocated, and nor was she naïve enough to believe she knew how to make him happy. But she had desperately wanted to—somehow—and she had been determined to find out how to accomplish it.

Lucas having made no attempt to consummate their marriage at any of the posting inns on the way to Cornwall, when they had reached Roslyn Manor and the moment had finally come Laura had yielded helplessly to the hot, searing need within her, while a nameless panic began to take hold of her. Lucas had taken her quickly, dutifully, and without endearment, with no thought to her immaturity and innocence, and after he had withdrawn from her he had rolled away and gone to sleep. It had been nothing more than the joining together of any man and his wife. Duty or pleasure, the thing was done.

Too stunned to move, Laura had lain looking up at the shadows playing with the light on the ceiling, struggling with disappointment. She had felt so miserable she had wept at her husband’s absolute detachment. If that was love she could not understand why they made so much fuss about it in story books. It had left her with a feeling of disgust combined with a strong sense of frustration.

Gazing across at him now, Laura could not believe the man she saw was the same man who had left her bed with the dawn and immediately embarked for France. Suddenly she saw his expression gentle, and she was sure she could see approval in his inscrutable eyes. ‘Why did you want to hide from me?’ she asked.

‘I didn’t. I just wanted to lie low for a while.’

‘But why? Has it something to do with you being a thief—a common highwayman? Why have you taken to the life of a High Toby?’

As he observed how seriously concerned she looked Lucas’s composure slipped and he laughed outright, a rich, deep sound that reminded Laura of thick velvet. She real
ised that when he did that he seemed younger, much younger than when his face was in repose.

‘I’m sure you will be relieved when I tell you that I am not a highwayman. Tonight was the first time—and the last—that I shall take to the road.’

‘Then—why did you do it?’ she asked, quite bewildered. ‘I did not take you for a prankster.’

His response to her question was a cool inclination of the head. A hard gleam entered his eyes and when he spoke his voice was deadly calm. ‘It wasn’t a prank. It was deliberately intended to infuriate and intimidate Carlyle—to put his back up. You are
my
wife, Laura, and no one—
no one
—interferes with anything that belongs to me. I can be a harsh man when angered.’

Laura felt a moment of unease at the possessive content of his words. ‘I discovered that to my cost,’ she retorted drily.

‘When John told me what you were up to—that you were to wed Carlyle and that you were celebrating your betrothal with the entire county—I was furious, naturally so. However, knowing nothing could come of it now I had returned to the scene, my fury abated. When John informed me that you intended travelling home that night I couldn’t resist the pure devilry that came over me, to have a little fun at Carlyle’s expense,’ Lucas said with a roguish grin, the harshness of a moment earlier having vanished.

‘And mine,’ Laura reminded him coolly.

‘I confess that I was enjoying myself rather well until I heard it from your own lips that you were to be his wife. It rekindled my anger and roused all that is unpleasant in me.’

‘I noticed,’ Laura said. ‘Why didn’t you try and stop the celebrations?’

‘I did think about it, but I wasn’t ready to show myself—not to you, nor anybody.’

Laura was about to ask him what the secrecy was all
about, but found herself saying instead, ‘You really don’t like Edward, do you, Lucas?’

‘Does one like a rattlesnake?’ he responded quickly. Placing the horrors Carlyle had inflicted on his own person aside, Lucas dwelt for a moment on what John told him when he had brought him up to date with all that had been happening in the district during his absence. It would seem that an underlying menace lurked among the huddle of cottages in Roslyn village and the surrounding hamlets, for the very name of Edward Carlyle engendered such fear that none dared interfere with his plans, challenge him or speak against him. To do so would have been to risk one’s life. Lucas’s hatred of Edward Carlyle was almost a physical pain within him, but when he answered Laura’s question he gave no sign of his true feelings.