Sea of Desire (4 page)

“You can leave now, Mort. I can handle Mr.
Blackstone,” Merideth said to Belinda’s son. She’d sent the maid
running to the stables to find him.

“But yer Ladyship, what if he tries to get
away?”

“You’ve tied him securely, and I do have a
pistol.” Her glance strayed back to where Jared lay on the floor.
“And I won’t be shy about using it.”

“But Lady Merideth...”

“That’s enough, Mort. Tell Thurston to watch
for Mr. Samuals, and inform your mother that I’d like some tea.”
Merideth strained to control her voice and emotions. She couldn’t
break down now. Later, when she learned the truth, and when the
diabolical Mr. Blackstone was bound for his hangman’s noose, then
she could give her grief free rein.

“Ye wants I should take his Lordship...” Mort
paused, as if not knowing exactly where to suggest he take him. “Up
to his bed?”

“No.” Merideth wondered if Mort’s question
was prompted by his long history of helping her get her father up
the staircase to his room when the earl was too far in his cups for
Merideth to handle alone. “I don’t want him moved.”

“But it ain’t fittin’, him just lyin’
there.”

“We’ll take care of him directly.” Merideth
tried not to look at where her father lay. But the sight of him as
she had found him earlier, crimson blossoming from a hole in his
chest, his face bloodless, was etched on her mind. She stiffened
her spine. “I want everything to be as it was when the constable
arrives.”

“As ye wish, your Ladyship.” Mort moved then,
giving one last heel dig to Jared’s arm before heading toward the
door.

Jared twisted and got his first look at the
burly redhead as Mort left the library. When he was gone, Jared
slowly hiked himself to sitting. Merideth didn’t seem to mind that
he sat. She simply watched his labored efforts, the pistol she held
never wavering.

Something warm trickled down his ear, and
Jared imagined his efforts had caused the wound on his head to
bleed. But it was better than lying on his back beneath the
yeoman’s boot.

“I want to know why.” Merideth had allowed
him to struggle to sitting, but now she aimed the gun toward his
chest. Even though he was tied, his size and obvious strength
frightened her.

“Do you mean, why was your father killed?”
Jared watched as she sucked her lower lip into her mouth before
nodding. He took a deep breath, wincing slightly at the pain in his
head. “I haven’t a clue. Because I didn’t kill him.”

Why was he blessed with a voice that inspired
belief? Merideth knew better, yet she was still tempted to accept
his words. She cocked the pistol. “When I found you, there was a
spent gun clutched in your hand. And there was...” Merideth felt
tears threatening and paused. When she gained control of her
emotions, she continued. “You shot him. Of that I’ve no doubt. I
just thought you might be...” She almost said, “... good enough to
tell me why,” a completely ridiculous thought. “I thought you might
tell me why you did it.”

“Dammit, I didn’t shoot anyone!” God, he
wished he’d never agreed to this plan of Daniel’s. “It would have
been a neat trick, since I was unconscious. Or didn’t you notice
that detail when you discovered your father?”

Merideth bristled under his sarcastic s tone.
“My father obviously tried to defend himself. It’s just too bad he
didn’t kill you rather than graze your head. Apparently you were
still able to fire your pistol. Or perhaps you fired first and his
shot wasn’t true.”

“Or perhaps,” Jared mimicked, “someone
knocked me over the head and used my pistol to kill your father.”
Her noise of disbelief and disgust infuriated Jared. “The hell with
what you think. That’s what happened. I was in here discussing
business with your father, and someone came up behind me. The next
thing I knew there was a ten-ton giant standing on my
shoulder.”

“That’s a preposterous story. I’m surprised
even
you
have the nerve to suggest it.”

“I’ll suggest something even more
preposterous. The person who hit me was wearing scarlet.” Jared
cocked his brow. “You were wearing a scarlet cape earlier, weren’t
you, Lady Merideth?”

“You can’t be suggesting that I... You
obviously have more nerve than sense, Mr. Blackstone.” Merideth
took a moment to rein in her anger. When she spoke again, her voice
was tight with control. “I shouldn’t have even wasted my time
talking with you.” Merideth moved toward the door, determined to
watch her prisoner, yet keeping as much distance between them as
possible. “I shall leave it to the constable to discover why you
were at Banistar Hall.”

There was a pounding on the door, but it
wasn’t so loud that Merideth missed the cold deliverance of Mr.
Blackstone’s next words.

“For your father’s sake, and yours, I don’t
believe you want the constable to know why I came here.” Merideth’s
eyes locked with the stranger’s. “What do you mean by that?” she
asked. But there was no time for him to answer, even if he planned
to; for Thurston, usually notoriously slow in answering the door,
had already opened it. The constable, followed by two of his
deputies, entered the library.

“Your Ladyship.” Constable Samuals bowed
toward Merideth. His stoic expression wavered only slightly as he
took in the sheet-shrouded form sprawled on the floor, the pistol
Merideth still held. “What happened here? Your man came pounding on
my door, squealing something about an emergency. And this not a fit
night for man nor beast.”

“I can hardly control the weather.” Merideth
didn’t much care for the constable’s attitude. She didn’t believe
that the retainer she’d sent to fetch him hadn’t explained what the
problem was. But then Amos Samuals hadn’t held the Banistars in
very high regard since Lord Alfred had run up a large tab at the
Three Gate Tavern, the establishment owned by Amos’s brother.
Neither of the brothers was happy when Alfred was unable to pay.
But that shouldn’t keep the constable from discharging his duty,
Merideth thought. She nodded toward Jared. “This man murdered my
father.”

“I see.” Samuals pursed his lips as he
glanced toward Jared and then knelt beside the body. “Looks as if
he was shot.”

“Of course he was shot!” Merideth felt her
patience slipping as sure as the weight of the gun pulled her hand
down.

“No need to get yourself all uppity.” The
constable flipped the sheet back over Lord Alfred’s lifeless form.
“You say this fellow done it?”

“He did.” Merideth glanced toward her
prisoner, wondering why he wasn’t saying anything in his own
defense. He simply stared back.

“Who is he? Don’t think I’ve ever seen him in
these parts.”

“I’m Jared Blackstone.” Jared kept his tone
even. “And if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like a moment alone with Lady
Merideth.”

Her jaw dropped. Merideth couldn’t help it.
Of all the gall! The stranger made the request as easily as if he
were asking for an introduction.

“Well, it so happens I do mind. You ain’t
getting no special privileges here. A moment alone, indeed. I
imagine you’d be likin’ untied and a sound horse too.”

“I’d like to speak to him.”

“What?” The constable turned on Merideth, his
eyes bulging. “This ain’t no tea party here, your Ladyship.”

“Do you think I don’t know that? This man
killed my
father
... my father, Mr. Samuals. And I want to
speak with him alone.”

Hands on his knees, Samuals pushed to his
feet. He mumbled something about the gentry—a remark that Merideth
neither caught nor truly cared about—before he headed for the door.
With a nod he motioned for his two deputies to follow.

“We’ll be right outside, so don’t think of
trying anything,” he said to Jared before closing the door behind
him.

“Well?” Merideth leveled the pistol with both
hands. Jared’s eyes met hers. He didn’t completely trust her. Hell,
he didn’t trust her at all. But even pointing a gun at his chest,
she seemed a better choice than the constable. Besides, she might
have a stake in this deception too.

“I didn’t come here to take money from your
father. I came to give him some.”

Her snort of disbelief was anything but
ladylike. “It’s true. He was selling me something for a generous
amount of gold.”

“I didn’t send the constable out of the room
so I could listen to lies. My father didn’t have
anything
worth a great deal of gold... except Banistar Hall. And he never
would have sold that.”

“He had information.”

Jared spoke the words softly, but he saw them
spark interest in Lady Merideth’s face. She was either a superb
actress or she knew nothing of her father’s activities. But from
what Lord Alfred had said about his daughter knowing the name of
the traitor, that was impossible.

“What kind of information?”

“It’s not important now.” No sense chancing
her turning him in as a spy as well as a murderer. “What is, is
that I had no motive to kill your father.”

“I still don’t believe you came to give him
money.” Merideth started toward the door.

“I can prove it.” Jared twisted to his side,
groaning at the pain that caused. “It’s in my waistcoat pocket. I
never had the chance to give it to him.” Or to receive the name of
the American traitor, Jared thought. But Lady Merideth knew who it
was. He’d bet on that.

Merideth let her eyes drift along his broad
chest to where his black waistcoat draped open. This was
ridiculous. There was no packet of gold. She shouldn’t even be
tempted. But she was. Something about the way he spoke or the look
in his sea-green eyes made her move toward him.

“Even if you have gold, it doesn’t prove
anything,” Merideth bit her bottom lip and took another step.
Closer.

“It proves I came here to give money rather
than take it,” Jared said, though he knew she was right. It didn’t
prove anything. But desperation spurred him on. “It shows I had no
motive to kill Lord Alfred.”

She could smell his scent now, dark and
mysterious, like the sea during a storm. His green eyes were rimmed
by a darker hue. They drew her.

The silk of her skirt brushed his bent knee.
She was standing above him now. Looking down. The pistol still
aimed at his chest. If she fired it, there was no chance she would
miss. But if he somehow managed to get hold of the gun, he would
kill her.

Merideth’s gaze flashed to where his hands
were tied behind his back. He couldn’t grab the gun. But she
stepped back and placed it on the desk just the same. Then, before
she could change her mind, Merideth knelt beside the stranger.

The heat from his body seemed to scorch her
fingers as she reached inside his waistcoat. Merideth’s knuckles
brushed his shirt and she could feel the hard muscles through the
fine cotton, smell the sticky sweetness of his blood. She tried to
ignore his nearness as she hurriedly rifled the pocket he indicated
with a thrust of his jaw.

“It’s empty,” she said, leaning back on her
heels and giving him a look that clearly meant she should have
expected nothing else.

“It can’t be.” Jared twisted around as best
as he could, his shoulder knocking into her arm. She skittered back
as if his touch were poisonous. Tucking his chin, Jared tried to
see. “Check again.”

“I will not. There’s nothing there, I tell
you, and you know it.” Merideth tried to stand but something caught
her, and when she glanced down she saw her lavender overskirt
trapped beneath the stranger’s knee. “Let me up.”

“Why should I?” Jared hadn’t purposely snared
her gown, but now that he had he shifted his weight to hold her
captive. His expression was hard. “Look again.”

Grabbing the flap of his waistcoat, Merideth
rummaged her hand in the pocket. Nothing. “As I said before, it’s
empty. Now, if you don’t let me up,” Merideth began, her words
grinding out between clenched teeth, “I shall scream.”

Jared paid no heed to her threat. “Someone
must have stolen it,” he mumbled more to himself than her. “I had
it when I entered the library. Whoever killed your father must have
taken the money too.” His eyes met hers. “Don’t you see?”

“Don’t be absurd. I don’t believe in fairies
or pixies of old legends. There was no one here but the servants
and me...” Merideth stopped. What was she doing even discussing
this with him? Of course, he had already implied that
she
might be the killer. He was grasping at anything. With a determined
yank she freed her gown, falling back on the floor in the process.
She scrambled to her feet.

“No, wait—” But Jared could say no more as
the constable slammed open the library door.

“Ain’t waitin’ no longer to take the prisoner
into the village. Looks like there’s a break in the storm.” He
motioned for his deputies to haul Jared up, and they did with
obvious delight for the pain they inflicted.

Merideth straightened her gown and kept her
eyes averted. She didn’t want to notice what they were doing to the
stranger... and she didn’t want to see the way she knew he was
looking at her.

“What you want me to do about... him?” Amos
Samuals twisted his grizzly head toward the covered body on the
floor.

“If you would get word to the vicar, I would
appreciate it.”

Samuals nodded his agreement, then led the
way out of the room. Merideth glanced up in time to see the
deputies yank Jared Blackstone through the door. His head was
bleeding, and crimson dripped onto his waistcoat. Merideth wished
she’d thought to suggest they bandage him before he rode the three
miles to the village. But then her gaze swung around to her
father’s body and her heart hardened. What did she care what
happened to the man who had murdered her father?

By the time the door clicked shut she was
down on her knees beside the linen shroud, tears streaming down her
face, her breathing punctuated by heartrending sobs.