Punish Me With Roses - a Victorian Historical Romance (22 page)

"Not at all. Alex is just upstairs."

"It was a rhetorical question," he replied and grabbed her boldly by the arms.

"You can't do this," she spit out. "My uncle will have your head."

"I don't intend to harm you, Victoria. We could have avoided all this if you had been willing to go on a walk with me."

"I do not trust the word of a man who would abduct a woman against her will."

"So be it," he said and yanked her into the rain.

"At least let me get a coat," she said. "I only just recovered from a fever caused by this very thing."

He continued to drag her away from the house. "I'd rather not waste any time."

"If you don't wish to harm me, what is this all about?"

"There is something important I need to show you. Once you've seen it, you may leave. You may go back to flirting with Mr. Trevelyn, lost in your own little world."

She continued to try to shake him off, but he held her tightly. "What do you mean by that?"

"I've already warned you about him. I don't care to waste my breath any further on the subject." He boldly picked her up and swung her over his shoulder with surprising strength.

"How dare you!"

"No more discussion until we arrive. I guarantee you'll have a lot to say then." He laughed. "You really have no idea."

Chapter 12

For some reason, she wasn't afraid. She was still brave even though she was being dragged by a man--who was gripping her arm quite violently--into a dimly lit cave. It wasn't, however, because she was a fearless woman. It was because she knew better than not to trust her instincts...at least she did by then. And her instincts told her that Rafe didn't intend to hurt her.

He pulled her deeper into the cave and she momentarily shivered at the possibility that she was wrong. Was the light coming from a fire? Was he going to burn her like a witch?

Then she was finally able to take a good look around.

"Oh no!" She stared at the paintings leaning against the carved rock wall. Paintings that should have hung in her uncle's gallery.

"Do you understand what you're looking at?" Rafe watched her anxiously.

"It's you.
You're
his son." She'd already lost respect for her uncle when she'd discovered that he'd disowned his flesh and blood. But she never wanted to think that he would treat his son the way he treated Rafe. She'd even seen him talk to him as if he were a stranger. Worse, an unwelcome stranger. "This entire village must be cursed."

"Is that meant as an insult?"

"No, but at this point, I don't really care how you wish to take it."

He looked toward the rest of the things piled against the wall. "You see why you had to come here? You wouldn't have believed it without proof."

"How did you get these pictures?"

"My father threw them out."

"He wouldn't."

"He did."

She rubbed her wet arms through her sleeves. At least the heavy dress did something to keep her warm, even if the water made its weight even more uncomfortable. "Why does he hate you so much?"

"Because I didn't want to follow in his footsteps. I wanted to make my money legitimately. Not on the backs of dead sailors."

"Are you saying Uncle John is a smuggler?"

His eyes widened. "How can you be so naive? He was certainly a smuggler when my mother was still alive. Now he claims to be reformed."

"But you don't believe him."

Rafe shook his head and walked away. The shadows were deeper where he went. "I don't."

"So did you make your fortune?" She watched him move aside a few crates and lean farther into the darkness with his hands outstretched. "Why did you come back?"

"I failed. So I came back to be a revenue man. I will catch him in the act."

"If you haven't caught him yet, maybe it is time to admit he has changed." She saw what he had left her to retrieve. A heavy, woolen blanket appeared in his hands.

He came back into the light. "People don't change."

She didn't know what to say to that, especially considering she usually felt the same way. It was actually something she'd been thinking about a lot after learning the truth about Alex's sister. Alex had spent many years being rigid in his beliefs; was there any hope for him?

"I don't forgive him and he doesn't forgive me. He blames me for the death of my mother." He wrung out the bottom of his coat with one hand, wetting the floor.

"He's not the only one."

He threw the blanket to her. "This is for you."

She wasn't about to mince words no matter how unwelcome it might be for him to hear. "That is why you've pretended to be someone else, isn't it? You knew that most of the people in Coverack remembered you as a spoilt, arrogant, know-it-all. Considering the facts, it's surprising they didn't recognize you."

"My father says I disappointed my mother."

"From what I understand, it was the breakup of her family that disappointed her the most."

"That's on his head alone. If he had made his living the honest way, I wouldn't have had to go elsewhere."

"I'm not going to make any judgments about who was right and who was wrong. But don't you think you can salvage something? Do it for your mother."

"What do
you
know of my mother?"

She was still holding the blanket in her arms instead of putting it to good use. She draped it over her shoulders. She looked across the cave at Rafe, but she was hardly seeing him. She was thinking of the image that always filled her mind when she thought of Fiona. "She wanted so little from life. You and your father couldn't even give her that without squabbling."

He laughed. "You didn't know her, Victoria."

She thought of the waves crashing around the slim body of a young woman. "If she was half as cherished as I've heard, then it was a terrible loss."

"Yes, it was a loss. No one is trying to say it wasn't. But pretending she was some sort of goddess who gifted us with only a short stay on God's green earth is preposterous." He started to pace, the tips of his hair still wet and dripping. "You're only able to see one side of it, aren't you? How do you think I felt when I heard the news?"

"Terrible, but--"

"But what? She gave up, Victoria. We upset her, and anyone could understand how, but then she just gave up. She hardly tried to reconcile us. She hardly tried to talk it out. She gave up and left me all alone."

"She must have loved you very much."

"Really? Is that what you think people who love you do?" He looked at her and waited, as if she would answer. But he continued before she'd even opened her mouth. "I've been alive a lot longer than you, and I think I know a few things about life. Forgive me, but I also think I know a lot more about it than my mother ever did. True love isn't giving up."

"Actually, I know a lot about that."

"Are we speaking about the young Mr. Trevelyn? Is he your true love?"

"I don't care to discuss him with my abductor."

"Remember, I'm your cousin." He stepped closer, studying her expression. "I also happen to be aware of everything that goes on in this godforsaken town. It's my job to be."

"Congratulations." She looked through the opening of the cave to the outside, and saw that the rain had let up. "I think it's time I'm on my way."

"I also know about you, about your past, the things you've done."

The blanket fell off her shoulders and onto the floor. "You don't know as much as you think you know."

"I know enough to have reason to believe you didn't really kill Hugh Clavering or Mark Freely."

"What?"

Rafe removed his coat. "Have you met Charles Trevelyn?"

"Is that Alexander's brother?"

"It's his father. There were a few people who wanted to get their hands on Hugh's self-made fortune."

She stepped forward. "But Charles Trevelyn wasn't anywhere near Hugh on the night he died and he didn't stand to gain any money out of it."

"If I am correct, according to the will, Mark Freely was the first to inherit."

"And Charles is related to him!" She paused, upset again. "But that makes no sense. He killed Mark too. Why would he do that?"

"I wish I knew."

She thought about it all for a moment. What if the arsenic she'd slipped into the port was completely coincidental? What if Hugh and Mark had been dead before she'd even returned to Blackmoore that night?

Then she frowned as she realized how much didn't make sense. If someone killed Hugh for his money--whether or not it had anything to do with Charles Trevelyn--then they would have to have some way of getting at it. Even if the unknown person had planned to kill her as well, the line to inherit was obscure and made up of distant relations. People she seriously doubted would have anything to do with a triple murder. No, it was only wishful thinking. She knew better than to hope that she wasn't to blame when she knew that she had to be.

"Rafe, there's no getting around it. No one else could have killed them but me."

He shook his coat out a few more times before throwing it to a heap in the corner. "I'm not so sure about that. But clearly, whatever the truth is, you aren't blameless. Not enough for your
true love
."

"What?" Her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach and she felt like she was going to be sick.

"We don't know each other, but in honor of the family relationship, I want to warn you. Let him go, Victoria. To carry on any longer will just cause you more heartache."

"I don't understand."

"I've observed Alexander Trevelyn on countless occasions, even had his help once with the arrest of a man on the wrong side of the law. You're just a passing fancy for him. At the core, he's a judgmental sod and he wouldn't want a future with you."

It was all of her deepest fears verbalized. Hearing someone else speak the words gave them power. She turned away, started to walk outside. "When did I say I was looking for a future with him? You presume too much."

The sky was a violent shade of gray. Purple-tinged clouds filled the sky and darkened the face of the moon. Through the heavy rain, she couldn't see very far in front of her, but she could see that the beach was littered with small pieces of wood. Probably pieces of the ship and its cargo.

She winced at the violent sea and the force with which it crashed against the black rocks. Rafe had followed her out and she was glad the rain obscured her tears. "Come home with me." She tried to see his expression.

"You can forget about that, Victoria," he said with a sneer and it was clear what his face would look like if she could see it.

"You must see him." She put her hand on his arm. "Just to talk about it."

"I mustn't do anything. I'll take you home."

"And come inside?"

"I'll leave you at the door."

She shook her head and her hand dropped to her side.

Rafe was true to his word.  He took her home but refused to come in. Victoria let herself in and decided to stop in the kitchen first to ask the maid to prepare some hot water. The hairs on her arm stood on end when she pushed open the door and didn't immediately see the maid of all work. Instead, she heard someone chuckle softly under his breath.

Victoria turned around to see two men of dubious character holding her uncle up by his arms. They all stared at her, seemingly surprised by her appearance. She gasped and backed up. Right into the arms of another scoundrel.

"Got ya!" he said jubilantly.

She struggled to get away from him, feeling a clear sense of déja vu. This was not turning out to be the best of evenings. "Let me go!"

Her uncle's face was bruised and swollen, quite frightful to behold even by the minimal light cast by one candle. More than that, he looked scared. Not scared for himself, but scared for her.

"You will let her go," he said. "I will help you find your goods if you release her."

"So
now
you know what happened to them?" The man's clothes were wet and torn in many places. In fact, all three men looked like drowned rats.

"As I've already told you, I was only in the cove to save your people. Not to rob you!"

"That's not what we heard." His compatriot tilted his head to one side and the only sound was the water that dripped from his body.

"My uncle is telling you the truth," Victoria said, having figured out what was going on. "He risked his life for you and your ship. This is how you repay the favor?"

The sailor tightly gripped John's chin. "We're not leaving until we get what's ours."

"A severe beating is all you deserve," John sneered and was smacked for his obviously unwelcome input.

"We want our cargo," the short, heavily muscled man added. "You're the only one who would dare to steal from George Riley. It wouldn't be the first time."

Victoria struggled some more, but it was useless. "What did you do to the maid?"

Fred was the one to answer her. "She's on the floor."

Victoria scanned the area until she saw the young woman's legs, the rest of her concealed by shadows. "Is she dead?"

The man shrugged and looked at the muscular man, whose name she did not know. He obviously didn't care what the answer was and he couldn't have thought much before attacking the woman if he didn't even know if whatever he'd done had taken her life.

The heavy-set man sighed. "You just hit her with the butt of your gun, Fred. She'll come to eventually."

He nodded and smiled. His eyes went to his weapon, shoved into the waistband of his breeches. She hadn't even seen it until then, but now she looked at the other two. Surprisingly, they didn't seem to be armed.

Riley was getting antsy. "Where did you hide the barrels, Fyn?"

"I told you--I know
nothing
about it."

"You're going to have to give it up. I told you we ain't leaving 'til we're compensated."

"You're going to have to try someone else this time," her uncle replied.

"You think you're so tough? Not afraid of death, are ye?"

"I think we both know that killing me would completely defeat the purpose."

Fred jumped up at this. "Oh yeah? Just try him!" He whipped out his gun, quickly but sloppily. It nearly slipped from his hand and onto the floor.