Lady Vixen (5 page)

Robert
regarded him for a moment, taking in the tall, lithe frame, the broad
shoulders, and the long, lean legs. Giving no sign that the other's words
disturbed him, he said calmly, "It was fortunate I met you on the way to
the house. It would never do for Simon to see you and be distressed."

"So
you said—but you'll excuse me if I doubt your word!"

Robert
smiled thinly. "But you don't exactly doubt my word, do you? If you did,
you wouldn't have agreed to meet me here first. Now do you want to hear what I
have to say?"

The
gold eyes narrowed to dangerous slits, the man called Captain Saber replied in
an ugly tone, "Not particularly, but since I was foolish enough to meet
you instead of continuing on my way, I shall have to, won't I?"

"So
it would appear," Robert agreed and then went on. "My father suffered
a nearly fatal seizure just last month and for a while it was feared that he
would die. He is quite ill and I rather doubt that your presence will be of any
help to him. He has surprised all of us and is very definitely on the mend, to
allay any fears you may have that he is on his deathbed. But any shock, any,
shall we say, unpleasant surprise could very well bring on a fatal attack. If
you are so set upon seeing him—seeing a man who does not want, I might add, to
see you—I would suggest that you wait a few weeks."

"I
cannot! It was only a whim that brought me here to- day as it was." Captain
Saber hesitated. "I would like to see him, Robert," he said at last.
"My ship sails at the end of this week, and I rather doubt that I shall
ever return to England. My life is in America and there is nothing here for
me—you have no worry that I shall force myself on him, to start tongues wagging
once more. I only wanted to see him, to make things easier between us."

"How
very admirable," Robert said dryly, apparently unmoved by the passionate
thread in the other's voice. "But unfortunately not possible. I would
suggest you leave for your ship tonight and forget about ever seeing Lord Saxon
again." But then recognizing the stubborn set to the other's fine mouth,
he said carefully, "I know that you do not trust me and perhaps with good
reason, but what I did I did only for your own good." At Captain Saber's
furious step forward, Robert held up a hand and commanded, "Hear me out! I
do not want to haggle with you! As I began to say just a second ago, you do not
trust me, but in this case I think you should. I will try to prepare the way
for you if you insist. Let me talk to Simon first. I shall try to broach the
subject gradually and make it less of a shock. But I ask that you be prepared
for me to fail."

"Why
should I trust you. How do I know that you are not lying to me?" Captain
Saber growled in a thick voice.

"You
don't," Robert replied carelessly. "But the state of Lord Saxon's
health can be verified very easily. And believe me when I say any sudden
unsettling event could precipitate a fatal attack. If you want to take that
chance then go ahead and force yourself on him."

"Goddamn
you!" Captain Saber burst out hotly. "You know that I dare not after
what you have told me. Very well then, in this case I shall do what you say.
But so help me, Robert, if you—"

"My
dear young man! You forget he is my father and that I would do nothing to upset
him. As for you— you interest me not at all but I shall try to arrange an
interview for you. Now where are you staying?"

His
jaw tight, Captain Saber muttered, "At the Bell and Candle. Robert, I
meant it when I said I have no desire to create a scandal. And I must return to
London tomorrow. You will have to act this evening. I cannot delay my departure
beyond tomorrow afternoon." Almost apologetically he added, "I know I
should have notified someone of my return as soon as I arrived in England, but
I had no thought then of even trying to see him. It was only yesterday that I wondered
if perhaps I couldn't try to lessen the constraint between us."

"Mmmm.
It is too bad the idea ever crossed your mind. But since it has, I shall do
what I can. And, young man, if you do not hear from me by ten o'clock tomorrow,
then I shall have failed and you can be assured that any attempt on your part
to intrude upon a sick old man will have dangerous consequences."

Captain
Saber swallowed with difficulty. "Very well, I understand. If I do not
hear from you then I shall know that nothing has changed."

The
two men exchanged no further conversation, leaving together, going in opposite
directions as soon as they quitted the pavilion.

The
pavilion now deserted, Nicole and Sally regarded each other.

"Well!"
Sally burst out at last. "I wonder what that was all about? Why does this
Captain Saber want to see Lord Saxon so badly?"

Nicole
said nothing; the conversation she had just overheard was not of much interest
to her. What did interest her, though, was that Captain Saber was here in
Surrey and that he wanted seamen. That thought was uppermost in her mind and
she was almost oblivious to anything else. Who cared why he wanted to see old
Lord Saxon? Or why Robert Saxon was willing to intervene for him? She didn't!
Out loud she said, "Who knows. He probably was an underbutler and pinched
some silver and now wants to ease his guilty conscience."

"Maybe.
But I don't think it was that. More than likely though," Sally said with
disappointment. "Wouldn't it have been exciting if it were something more
than that, though? Like if—"

"Oh,
Sally, will you shut up about it," Nicole muttered with exasperation,
suddenly wishing that Sally would leave her alone with her thoughts.

Not
unnaturally Sally took offense at Nicole's manner and remarked huffily,
"Well, if that's the way you feel! I'll just let you sulk up here by
yourself. You are so
young,
Nicole. I honestly don't know why I bother
with you."

Nicole,
instantly contrite and not really wanting to hurt Sally's feelings, said
quickly, "I'm sorry and I'm not sulking. But, Sally, I would like to be by
myself, if you don't mind."

Resignedly
Sally replied, "All right. I'll go. Shall I see you next week at the horse
fair or has your aunt forbidden you to go?"

Her
mind elsewhere, Nicole answered absently, "Probably. At least I think
so."

Left
alone, Nicole sat thinking for several moments. The sea, perhaps that was the
answer. America, far away from the Markhams. Here was an unhoped-for
opportunity of the greatest magnitude. Surely a kind fate had led Sally to her
today. Her young mind filled with schemes and plans, a flame of elation
flickering through her body, she scrambled down from her place of concealment
and scampered off to Ashland.

It
wasn't until well after dinner, a strained and uncomfortable meal, that she was
able to put her hastily concocted plan into motion. But once she had been
dismissed for the evening, amazing her aunt by not arguing, she climbed the
stairs to her room and locked the door behind her. Flying across the room, with
hands that trembled with feverish excitement, she rooted through the few
precious effects she had managed to keep of her brother's. Amongst them were
the objects she sought—a pair of faded pants, one of his shirts, and his
favorite jacket, a soft much-worn brown tweed. Quickly she ripped off her dress
and pulled on the unfamiliar clothes, using the sash from one of her own gowns
to hold up the pants. Not to be daunted by such minor things as baggy pants and
a jacket whose sleeves nearly covered her hands, she surveyed herself hopefully
in the mirror.

What
a laugh she looked, she thought with a giggle, staring at the clownish figure
she presented. But then serious, she considered the long sable locks with the
glinting auburn lights.
That
would have to go! Ruthlessly she hacked off
the long silky hair, carefully gathering the shorn locks and stuffing them into
a pillow covering to be dropped in the nearest well. Her hair, what was left of
it, stuck out in odd patches, but it definitely gave her a more boyish look—a
pretty boy but boyish nonetheless! Feeling more satisfied, she once again
examined her appearance. Thank goodness she was still bosomless, but frowning
she peered closely at her face. Large, wide-spaced topaz-brown eyes, fringed
with exorbitantly long black lashes, stared back, causing her some dissatisfaction.
Her nose was pert and straight, if still childish in its appearance, and her
wide, generous mouth with a full bottom lip and decidedly firm, little chin
completed the picture. After some closer scrutiny she agreed with herself that
she made a handsome boy, except for those very feminine curling eyelashes.
Well, desperate actions called for stern measures, and carefully, her face
pressed close to the mirror, the scissors in one hand, she painstakingly
trimmed the offending lashes until they were practically nonexistent. Then
taking another long look, she was positive no one would guess her sex, and
darkly she vowed that whatever the outcome, she was not returning. She would
see the man at the Bell and Candle tonight and she would
make
him take her
to sea with him! Without another glance or a second thought she climbed lithely
out the window and down the old oak tree that grew near the house.

If
Nicole's spirits were considerably lighter as she fled through the window,
Captain Saber's were not. Seated in the private parlor of the inn, a foaming
tankard of ale in his hand, he found his present situation intolerable. Yet at
the moment he was unable to do anything about it. Discreet and careful
questioning of a number of village inhabitants had elicited the information
that Robert's assessment of the situation was correct. Simon Saxon
had
suffered
a seizure in January, and the old man's rages and sudden flights of temper were
legendary to the townfolk. But in spite of this news it galled him to allow
Robert Saxon to have any say in his affairs. Unfortunately, it appeared he
would have to trust Robert's diplomacy. He knew he was a fool to have returned,
a fool to think perhaps Lord Saxon had forgiven him or learned the truth. And
to have returned alone and unarmed was dangerous. It was dangerous to have left
London by himself and dangerous to have said so much to Robert. With greater
hindsight he realized he should have brought Higgins with him. But he had let
it be known that he had no intention of remaining, Saber thought doggedly. He
had stated that he was leaving shortly, not to return. That knowledge should
keep Robert from planning any unpleasant surprises—surprises such as the last
one the man had arranged. He wondered viciously if Robert had told that bitch
Annabelle that he had returned.

Bitterly
Saber's mouth thinned, and an unattractive light glinted in the amber-gold
eyes. Four long years it had cost him. Four years of unspeakable brutality and
cruelty in the British Royal Navy—all neatly arranged by kind Robert Saxon!
Four years in which he grew from an idealistic boy into a hard, calculating man
who had fought bloody sea battles and felt the lash of the cat-o'-nine-tails on
his back, leaving scars that would be with him until the day he died.

Remembering
those years, his hand tightened about the tankard until the knuckles shone
white. Angry with himself for allowing the fury to rise so quickly, he drank
the cool ale in one long swallow and slammed the empty tankard down. Grimly he
forced himself to push the memories away and to remind himself that in a way
Robert had done him a favor. That Robert had not had him impressed into the
British Navy for his own good was a moot point! A sharp unhappy laugh broke
from him and he rose impatiently from his chair, wishing that he had not
bespoken the private parlor. He needed the companionship of fellowmen
tonight—not the solitude of this small room.

Beddington's
Corner was a small community, and the Bell and Candle, typical of the inns to
be found in such places, catered primarily to farmers and village folk. The
private parlor was seldom used—few ladies and gentlemen of quality stopped in
Beddington's Corner. Seeking more congenial company than his own black
thoughts, he left the private parlor, missing Mrs. Eggleston by a few minutes,
and joined the noisy group in the dark oak-beamed common room. When he caught
the roving eye of that buxom barmaid, he abandoned his plan to drink himself
senseless. A few minutes later she was warming his lap, giggling at his bold
advances. Between squeals of laughter and false protestations, she let him know
her
name was Peggy, she was finished at midnight, and was perfectly
agreeable to sharing his lonely bed. Smiling, he found himself a small table in
a quiet corner and watched with interest the behavior of the boisterous
farmhands at the bar. Peggy good-naturedly slapped aside their amorous
advances, turning frequently to the tall, dark-haired gentleman who lounged
with careless elegance in the corner.

Coo,
he was an handsome cove, she thought delightedly, and a
real
gentleman
too, with his neatly trimmed beard, white starched cravat, and clean
long-fingered hands. A shiver of expectation slid down her spine as it neared
midnight. Soon she would creep up the backstairs with that gentleman, and as
she caught the lazy, amused glance he sent her through his thick black lashes,
a sharp, pleasurable ache hit her stomach.

Saber,
knowing he would be pleasantly occupied for the remainder of the night, drank
little of the dark, heady ale that flowed so copiously throughout the evening.
His head was clear and his step steady, as a few minutes after midnight he and
Peggy made their way up the stairs. They reached his room at the top of the stairs
a few moments later, and Saber pushed the door open and ushered the eager Peggy
inside. She stepped into the dark room and gave a small cry of pain as a
crushing weight smashed into her head and she crumpled to the floor. As Saber
realized what had happened, he leaped against the wall of the hallway, pressing
himself tightly against it. Alert to the sudden danger, his fingers sought the
heavy seaman's knife concealed under his clothing. With his body hard against
the wall, he turned his face toward the open doorway, straining to see inside
the room.