Punish Me With Roses - a Victorian Historical Romance (15 page)

She sighed. "I don't want to see it, Mr. Randel."

"But I think you'd be interested."

"But you're wrong." She fixed him with a confident stare.

"You're a stubborn girl."

"I'm stubborn?" She should have thrown her head back and laughed, if only for the effect. "You, Mr. Randel, are the one who is stubborn." She turned heel and started for the house.

"Where are you going?"

"Good day to you, sir." She nodded and kept walking.

Then he was at her side. His hand was on her arm. "Come with me."

"Never." She shrugged off his touch.

"I was going to be nice about it, but you've left me with no choice," he sneered.

She jumped away from him, but he grabbed her.

"Have you lost your mind?" She was alarmed to find that she couldn't hide the fear in her voice.

"That's quite possible." He started to boldly drag her away from the house.

She tried to kick him in the shin, but he somehow moved his leg so that she only managed to trip herself. She fell against him and, all along, he still hadn't let go.

"Stop squirming, girl!"

"Help!" Her chest felt tight and her breathing was painfully labored. What were the man's intentions?

"No use crying out. You're uncle isn't home and that batty maid of his probably isn't either. She usually sneaks into the village when she doesn't have much to do."

"Have you been spying on us?"

"Perhaps." He kept pulling her away from her house, but he was making poor progress against her struggles.

She screamed again and kicked him. She managed to get him this time, but he did his little maneuver again. Her leg and her petticoats became a tangled mess almost instantly and she fell onto the dirt ground with a thump. But it was at that moment that a man came running. He looked like one of the village fishermen.

He scowled at her abductor. "Get out of here, Randel."

"Are you going to make me?"

She struggled to get back on her feet without rolling over onto her face. She scooted away from the two men, knowing the signs of a fight and not exactly wanting to be trampled.

"I'll tell you what we can do if you don't want to leave. We can all wait here until John comes home and let him take care of it."

Rafe stood very still and she couldn't tell if he was going to pounce or run. It turned out that he would do neither. But he did leave her with a cryptic message. "I'll leave, but not because I'm afraid of your wonderful uncle. It's more because if I saw him, I might have to show you both something you don't want to see."

"What did that bastard do to you?" Alexander breathed heavily and jolted forward when the maid ran into his back.

"I told him to wait in the drawing room, sir, but he wouldn't listen." She too was out of breath.

He watched the girl leave the room and said, "She's a quick, little thing. I thought she was going to attack me!"

"What's the meaning of you barging in like this?" John Fyn slammed his fork down onto the table, glasses rattling and plates dinging.

"I want to know what Rafe did and if I should kill him!" He was so angry that he walked forward and almost broke his neck by tripping over the damn dog. A meaner man would have kicked the stupid thing.

"Don't be foolish over such a small thing," Victoria said, not moving from her seat. She sat at the other end of the table and she sipped wine, apparently unconcerned.

Her uncle said, "And stop yelling! You're giving me a headache."

"But that bastard--"

She threw her napkin across the table. "Lady in the room, Alex!"

"But, but..." He took a deep breath and shook his head back and forth a few times.

"Mr. Randel shouldn't have done what he did, but it isn't a killing offense."

"I'd like to make it one."

"Be my guest," her uncle said watching them both with equanimity.

He probably knew what Alex knew himself. There was no way he'd actually kill the man. Rearrange his face...maybe.

She placed her napkin on the table and stood up. "Stop acting like...men."

He didn't understand women at all. "So you don't mind what he did?"

"Of course I mind! It was wholly unacceptable." She rubbed her upper arms with her hand and he wondered if she was bruised. "But that doesn't mean that you're not blowing this way out of proportion."

"I'll be the judge of that."

"Do you want to speak privately, Alex?"

Her uncle pushed away from the table. "Now wait just a second, Victoria. We're in the middle of dinner."

"I've lost my appetite."

He looked at Alex, as if to blame him. Then his scowl softened. "Fine. Go."

Alex smiled, knowing that the old man liked him. He was starting to like the old coot himself. It was insane. He was becoming best friends with a suspected murderess and confirmed smuggler. And he had never been more comfortable in his life.

"You didn't have to do this," he said, following her out of the dining room.

"I know, but you are upset."

"Trust me, the longer I look at you the happier I become." He felt surprised at the words coming out of his mouth, as though he had no control over them.

She blushed and started to walk upstairs.

"Where are we going?"

"Since the garden is both small and overgrown, I thought we could walk in the gallery."

"And analyze pictures of Fiona?"

"That's the strange thing. There aren't any." She walked ahead of him, her skirt swishing up the scarlet stair runner.

He shrugged at the odd response and climbed the rest of the stairs. On the second floor landing, he turned to her and smiled. "I'm a fool for running in here and screaming like a maniac."

She waved away his apology. "Don't become sheepish, Alex. It doesn't suit you."

"Can you understand why I did it though? Rafe Randel is a dangerous man. I always thought that there was something strange about him and now he's proven it in an extremely unwelcome manner."

She opened the gallery door. "My uncle and I also take it very seriously. He's forbidden me to go near him."

"That's it? He should be run out of town!"

They stood at the threshold of the gallery, arguing in the upstairs hallway. "But he didn't really
do
anything. It was more like he
tried
to do something."

"Regardless! The important thing to consider is that he
wanted
to do something, he just didn't
succeed
."

She looked at him, her hands firmly on her hips. "It happened to me, so I should be the one with the final say. Since nothing came of the incident, I've moved past it. I truly had the feeling that he didn't mean any harm... although I can't figure out what purpose his actions could have had." She looked through the open door. "Let's just forget about it. I've left it in my uncle's hands."

"I would have thought that he, of all people, would be the first person to punish him," Alex mused.

"Can we drop the subject?"

"If that's what you want." He entered the large room before she did, signifying that the conversation was finished. "But I promise to keep an eye on both of you."

"If you must," she groaned.

He didn't realize his company was such torture.

She stood beside him and he finally noticed what she was wearing. He remembered the dress from the day in the drawing room. Those were fond memories indeed.

"Do you see what I mean, Alex? Empty spaces on the wall at the very end. There's only that picture of my uncle as a young man and then that's it."

He hadn't noticed anything in the gallery besides her, but now he looked. "I see that."

"But you can tell that there were once pictures there."

"Maybe the picture of Fiona in the drawing room was taken down from here."

"Even if that is so, that doesn't explain the other missing pictures. Shouldn't there be one of Richard?"

Alexander sat down on the damask covered bench. "Have you spoken to your uncle about it?"

"Of course not! Every other thing I've spoken to him about hasn't exactly been greeted with a smile." She looked at the empty space beside him, then looked away.

"Sit down, Victoria," he said.

She did.

"Although we didn't come in here for this purpose, I just thought of something." He placed his hand on her arm and smiled. "Why don't we ask your uncle if he feels it's possible to bring good out of harboring a murderer?"

Chapter 8

She jumped up from the seat, grasped her throat with her fingers and looked at him as she backed away, disgusted by the smile on his face. So he thought it was fun to taunt her?

"Victoria?" He stood up to approach her, but stopped when she sneered at him. "I didn't mean...
anything
."

"Tell me what you meant."

"I had an idea that we could find Richard and bring him back."

"You used the word
'murderer.'
What did you mean?"

"Your uncle thinks his son is a murderer. That's what he means, isn't it? When he says his wife was killed?"

The horror that had gripped her faded, but it was still a struggle to remain calm. "Yes," she replied quietly.

"Then? You hated the idea so much?"

She took a deep breath. "I was a little bothered by your extreme language."

His expression was sympathetic. "I apologize then." Alexander moved his hands from his knees to his thighs in a nervous motion. "I guess I'm not used to women's delicate sensibilities."

If only I could tell him it isn't his fault
, she thought.

"I just wanted to know your opinion. Do you think John would turn him away? Perhaps if we told him Richard wanted a reconciliation? Maybe he does."

"He knows where his father lives, Alexander. If he was interested, he would have come home on his own."

"Even so."

She sighed. "I think it's a stretch, but I suppose it's worth a try. Will you send someone?"

He smiled. "I'll go myself."

She wondered if he really cared about her family that much, then she realized that he must. Otherwise, why would he do any of the things that he'd done? What reason would he have to help her?

The important question was
why
he cared about it. She felt right then that the only answer could be that he did because he cared about
her
. She was so glad she had come to Cornwall, no matter what had driven her there.

But her reasons for being in Coverack were constantly on her mind. She'd killed two men and Alex had to be told.

He stood up.

"So soon?" she asked, before he'd announced his intention to leave.

"I'm sorry I have to make it so short, but I came here on impulse when I heard about Rafe. There are quite a few things I need to take care of before tomorrow."

She nodded. When was she going to tell him?

"Before I leave, I have once last thing to ask you." He grinned affably and waited for her to stand up. "Would you like to go to St. Keverne? It's another small town up the coast, and as you've seen so little of the local sights--"

"I'd love to go."

"Great."

They said goodbye and discussed a day to go, but she found it hard to keep her mind in the present. Mentally, she was traveling to St. Keverne already, spending time away from everything with Alexander, confessing the secret she so desperately needed to get off her chest.

It was the perfect time to do it because they wouldn't be in Coverack. They'd be strangers in that town. She could tell him about her past comfortably. Alone.

Alone except for the man she trusted enough to know the whole truth.

The very moment she entered St. Keverne an anxious sense of foreboding settled over her. She glanced at Alexander to see if he felt any of the breathless anxiety that she was experiencing, but he didn't seem to be affected. He smiled at her from his horse, and her attention was diverted to his muscular thighs as he edged the animal forward. And when he spoke, the feeling had left her completely.

"We can stable the horses at the inn ahead." He looked away and she stared at his chiseled profile. His gaze returned to her face. "Is there something wrong?"

"No." She was quick to answer, even considering the truth of the situation. "Should there be?"

"You look anxious."

She closed her eyes momentarily as a wave of dizziness made her lightheaded. "It's the sun."

He nodded, but he was obviously more perceptive than she'd thought. The inn truly was right ahead and a moment later, she was dismounting. She thought that she'd feel better once she was walking on solid ground, but the feeling really hadn't disappeared. If anything, it became stronger.

She didn't pay attention to Alexander's conversation with the stable boy, except to note that he didn't have any idea how long they'd stay in the village. She suddenly felt worried that the day would end too soon. For some reason, she was always worried about not having enough time with him. But it was probably a foolish concern. She wasn't going anywhere, unless she was forced. It was a frightening thought.

"Would you like to go to the church first?"

She smiled. "I'm really not in the praying mood."

He looked at her askance. "That's not what I'd intended."

Her heart skipped a beat and she stared ahead to avoid looking into his eyes. From the beginning, he'd had a mischievous look to him. "Is it one of the things I shouldn't miss seeing?"

He didn't answer her immediately. He put a light hand on her arm to steer her to the right and said, "I'm afraid I misled you a little bit. Nothing here is that important, but I'm glad to be here with you. It was a good excuse to get away for the day."

"How can I be angry at such a flattering confession?" She hoped he would treat her confession similarly.

"It doesn't bother you that this outing has no significance beyond a man trying to impress a woman with the local sights that aren't local
or
impressive?"

"Not at all." She took a deep breath so as to not lose her courage. "Sometimes things can be far more significant than ever thought at the time."