Lovers Forever (23 page)

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Authors: Shirlee Busbee

BOOK: Lovers Forever
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Nicolas was convinced that the man he wanted had been at his grandmother's tonight. He was also convinced that
these
men would lead him to that person and that for whatever reasons—coincidence? or fate?—he'd had a miraculous stroke of luck to have stumbled across this cache of contraband goods in his own damned cellar!
Though moving quietly, the men were making fast work of lugging the casks and boxes up out of the cellar. Just when Nicolas was certain that their leader was not going to show himself, a tall, greatcoated figure suddenly appeared in the outside doorway.
In the dim light of the lantern, Nicolas surveyed the man who stepped coolly into the room, his bearing as well as his clothing bespeaking a man of taste and wealth. In addition to the many-caped greatcoat, the newcomer was wearing a stylish curly-brimmed hat pulled low across his forehead, obscuring his features, but Nicolas had no doubt that he was looking at his quarry. His heartbeat quickened. If only the man would move farther into the light. Step out of the shadows. Let me see your face, damn you!
The first four men greeted the arrival of the fifth man with little enthusiasm.
“Time you showed up,” growled one burly individual. “After dragging us out at a minute's notice, I'd have thought you'd come and help move the blasted stuff yourself, if it was so damn-fire urgent that we get it out of here.”
“What's the rush, guvnor?” asked another fellow, a small man with a grizzled beard. “We've been safely hiding things here for years. Never tell me that the revenuers have discovered us!”
The newcomer made some comment; Nicolas couldn't hear what it was, but from the other's reactions he could guess what it was.
“Blimey! What'd he want to go and do that for! This place has been deserted ever since I can remember.”
“Living 'ere! Bloody earl's got a grand 'ouse, why'd 'e need this place?”
There was another murmur from the man in the greatcoat. Suddenly his head shot up, and Nicolas could have sworn he looked directly at him. Instinctively he shrank against the wall, forcing himself deeper into the shadows, and it was only then that he realized that not only was there light from the lantern in the main room of the cellar, but that there was light coming from
behind
him!
Cursing himself for not having explored the area more thoroughly, Nicolas was in the act of spinning around when the blow caught him. He had barely a glimpse of another man garbed much as the newcomer before the pain exploded along the side of his head and the blackness rushed up to greet him.
Standing over Nicolas's fallen body, the sixth man stared dispassionately down at him. Holding his lantern higher, a short billy club held in the other, he called out to the men, “Come over here, you fools, and see how close we came to ruin tonight.”
The five crowded into the narrow passageway, one of them saying dumbly, “Gor! Blimey, Mr. Brown! It's the earl! Wot's he doing 'ere?”
“It doesn't matter,” retorted the gentleman called Mr. Brown. “All that matters is that we get these goods to a new hiding place. Now get busy, but next time I tell you to watch yourselves, make certain you do! If I hadn't have decided to use the back way into the cellars tonight, there is a very good chance we'd all be riding the three-legged mare in a very short time!”
The original four men hurried back to their task, leaving the two gentlemen in their caped greatcoats with Nicolas's unconscious body. The other man looked at Mr. Brown. “Now what? This does complicate matters, doesn't it?”
Mr. Brown grimaced. “It complicates them far more than you know. It wasn't a whim that brought me through the back entrance—I did a little snooping before I came and discovered that our
friend
here is using the cottage as a love-nest for his latest ladybird! I suspected he might be about, but I'll admit I didn't really expect to find him down here.”
The other man looked worried. “Obviously he knows that we were using the cottage as a place to hide the goods until it was safer to transport them to London. Wonder why he didn't inform Sir Charles?”
Mr. Brown smiled tightly. “Oh, I imagine our grand earl was in need of a bit of excitement after his great adventures on the peninsula. Probably thought to be a hero.”
“That may be, but what if he
does
inform Sir Charles of what he's found? What then? This has been perfect for our uses. Now that we've been discovered, I cannot think of any other place that would suit even half as well.”
“You worry too much! By the time the earl awakes, all trace of our recent activities will be gone. He'll look a fool if he goes running to Sir Charles complaining about smugglers.” A sneer curved Mr. Brown's mouth. “And I doubt he'd want it known that he had been struck down by a mere owler! But enough of him—we'll just have to move our operation for a few months, and once the earl's soiled dove is no longer in residence, we shall be able to make use of the cottage again—albeit with much more stealth and caution.”
“But what if the affair with his lightskirt goes on for any length of time?” demanded the taller one. “It's possible that he might be thoroughly infatuated with her and their affair might last for months. What then?”
Mr. Brown stared thoughtfully at Nicolas's body. “I doubt such is the case, but I think to insure that the cottage is soon deserted, the, uh, lady is going to have to suffer an accident. A fatal one.”
“You mean murder a
woman
?”
Their eyes met. “Why not? You weren't so squeamish about the others. What difference does it make if this time it's a woman? The stakes are certainly high enough ... or would you rather run the risk of our
very
profitable little sideline being discovered? It was the
money
that overcame your scruples, wasn't it?”
The taller man's mouth tightened. “You know damn well it was—I never meant to become a traitor, nor a murderer, and if it weren't for that bastard—”
“This isn't getting us anywhere. We're in too deep, and we're certainly not letting anything stand in our way at this late stage, even the murder of a little tart!” Mr. Brown glanced over into the main part of the cellar. “The men are done. Let us be off—we can discuss what we plan to do later.”
“What about him?”
A contemptuous smile curved the chiseled lips of Mr. Brown. “Leave him. The worst our fine earl will probably suffer is a blazing headache.”
The words were prophetic. Sometime later, as Nicolas slowly swam up into consciousness, the first thing he became aware of was a blinding pain in his head. The next was the hard, cold, damp surface of the cellar floor. Then he realized that he was not alone, that Dolly was kneeling by his side, shaking him urgently and calling his name.
He opened his eyes, only to close them immediately as the light from her lantern sent a knife blade of pain ricocheting through his head. “Move the damned light before you blind me,” he growled ungratefully, struggling into a sitting position. “And what the hell are you doing down here?”
“I was trying to see if you were alive or dead!” Tess retorted from between clenched teeth. Standing up, she lifted the lantern from the floor where she had set it and said, “Since it would appear that you
are
alive and not dead as I first feared, I shall be only too happy to leave you here. Good night!”
Nicolas grimaced. “Wait!” he said in more normal tones. “I'm sorry I snapped at you, but I'm not best pleased with myself at the moment, and I've got a devil of a headache.”
“Oh, Nick,” Tess cried, all her anger evaporating in an instant as she reached out a hand to help him to his feet. “I was so worried about you! I know you told me to stay upstairs, and I
did
! But when positively
hours
had passed and you hadn't returned, I grew frightened and I knew I had to come in search of you.” Her gaze traveled anxiously over him. “I was certain the owlers either hadn't come tonight, or if they had ...” She swallowed. “I
knew
something was wrong, and when I found you lying there so cold and still ...” Speech was suspended as she fought with her emotions. In a small voice she finally said, “I thought you were dead!”
“It takes more than a knock on the head to kill me, sweetheart,” he said lightly, and pulled her gently against him. Dropping a kiss on her head, he murmured, “Thank you for coming to find me. Now, shall we go upstairs and see if we can get a warm fire going—it's bloody cold down here!”
Tess gave a watery chuckle, and together they left the cellar and made their way to the kitchen. It took a few minutes, but soon enough there was a fire blazing on the kitchen hearth and Tess had hung a kettle of water over it to heat. By the time the water was hot and she had discovered where Sara kept the tea, Nicolas had found the brandy. In a short while, they were sitting near the fire, sipping some piping hot tea liberally laced with brandy.
Nicolas's headache was abating slightly, and there was now just a faint throb in his temple. Looking far more robust than he had any right to, he found himself telling Tess what had happened.
When the tale was done, her eyes were very big in her small face. “A secret entrance! The master smuggler hit you from
behind!
Oh, how thrilling!”
Nicolas cocked a brow at her. “You could spare a bit of sympathy for me, you know,” he said with a teasing gleam in his eyes, “before you get all excited about master smugglers and secret entrances.”
She made a face at him. “You are perfectly recovered and you know it. And it
is
exciting to think that there is a secret entrance to the cellar. Admit it! Oh, Nick, just think—an entrance that no one except the master smuggler knows about.” Her eyes gleamed. “There is no telling what we might find.”
A reluctant laugh was dragged from him. “You're incorrigible! But I'll grant you one thing—I'm mightily interested in finding that unknown entrance.” They smiled at each other, wrapped in an inexplicable feeling of comradeship.
“And you're going to let me help look for it, aren't you?” she asked confidently, leaning forward, her amethyst eyes sparkling.
A rueful expression crossed Nick's face. “Yes, I believe I am—much against my will and much to my astonishment. But first you must swear to me that you won't go looking for it without waiting for me.”
Tess nodded eagerly. “You have it. I swear. When do we start?”
A sudden yawn took Nicolas by surprise. Setting down his cup, he said, “Not immediately, I'm afraid. After the night we've spent I suspect it will be midday before either of us arises. So for now I'll bid you good night, and I'll see you early afternoon.” He shot her a warning glance. “And no exploring until I get here.”
“No exploring,” Tess answered sunnily, too happy that he had agreed to let her help to argue with him.
He pressed a warm, lingering kiss on her mouth, and a moment later he was gone. Sitting in the kitchen by herself, Tess didn't know whether to be relieved or annoyed that he'd made no mention of spending the remainder of the night with her.
A little morosely, she left the kitchen and wandered through the dark house upstairs to her rooms. Since the smugglers had come and gone
and
discovered Nicolas, there was no reason to be careful anymore, and conscious of the chill, she quickly started a fire. Wide awake, she eyed her bed with distaste. It had to be nearing five o'clock in the morning, and despite having been up most of the night, she doubted that she'd be able to sleep a wink.
She lit a couple of candles and moved restlessly about the room. The news that there was a hidden entrance to the cellars entranced her, and the knowledge that Nicolas wasn't going to be an utter beast about her accompanying him when he went looking for it pleased her inordinately.
She finally sat down, staring at the fire, too excited and impatient for the adventure to begin to sleep. And as she sat there, almost imperceptibly she became aware of a feeling of deja vu ... as if she had once before sat in this room, eager for the dawning of the next day....
She shivered, not certain she liked these peculiar snippets of memory that came over her. Were these queer moments glimpses into her past? Or something else? She had the curious and unnerving impression that it wasn't
her
past she was experiencing, but the past of someone else.... Someone she had known?
The feeling of familiarity was so strong, so powerful, that it seemed to press against her, cajoling, begging,
demanding
that she remember. Helplessly her eyes moved around the room as she tried to find some clue to her strange feelings. For a second she stared at the bed where she and Nicolas had made love yesterday afternoon, the brilliant colors of the silk hangings delicately muted with age.... Like one in a trance, she sat there looking at the rumpled bed, and then, before her stunned gaze, the faint smoky shape of another man and woman, a man and woman who bore startling similarity to her and Nicolas, seemed to form before her eyes. They knelt facing each other on the bed, and with great tenderness the naked shadowy forms embraced, kissing each other with frank passion. Mesmerized, Tess was unable to tear her gaze away, yet she had no sensation of prying—it was like watching a mirror image of herself and Nicolas....

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