Sea of Desire (6 page)

Noise from outside the cell broke the
spell.

Merideth tore her gaze away, and she
remembered that Jared Blackstone had accused not only her father of
treason but her as well. As disloyal as it may be, Merideth found
herself wondering if her father, out of financial desperation,
could have entertained traitorous thoughts. She quickly pushed that
from her mind. Besides, this man was accusing her of the same
deed.

“What the hell was in your mind, Les? I
should kick your ass to Penzance for this!”

“She done said it was all right,” came an
answering whine as the cell door banged open.

Merideth turned, an explanation on her lips.
But she never had a chance to use it. A steel-hard arm snaked
around her waist, forcing the breath from her body and dragging her
back against Jared Blackstone. From the corner of her eye she
caught the glimmer of a knife blade.

“Either of you move and I’ll kill her,” the
man behind her said. His arm tightened. The knife point traced
along her ribs. And this time she had no trouble believing him.

“This ain’t a good idea at all,
Blackstone.”

“Oh, I think it has its merits.” Jared
gripped the carved knife handle and kept his gaze on the constable
and the flustered deputy. He didn’t bother to glance down at his
captive. He knew she was scared. Jared could feel her heart
thumping against his arm. Well, hell, he was scared too.

“What we gonna do, Mr. Samuals?” Les was
sweating profusely, the perspiration running down the sides of his
fat face.

“What you’re going to do is move away from
the door.” Jared kept a firm grip on Merideth.

“I can’t let you just walk out of here.” The
constable was trying to keep some control over the situation, but
Jared could tell he was nervous. “You’ve already murdered one
Banistar.”

“So then it makes no difference to me if I
get rid of another.” The pinch he gave Lady Merideth made her cry
out. Some of the ruddy color left the constable’s face.

“There’s no call to hurt her none.”

“Whether or not I hurt her is entirely up to
you. Do as I say, Lady Merideth lives to see her grandchildren.
Cause me any more trouble...” With a slight shrug Jared let the two
men fill in the rest for themselves. Apparently they’d decided to
take him at his word, something for which Jared was extremely
grateful. He didn’t know what he would do if they called his
bluff.

But the constable took a step away from the
doorway, bumped into his cowering deputy, and gave him a shove
toward the cot. “Get a move on with you, Les.”

“You aren’t going to let him get away with
this, are you? He killed my father!”

Jared had momentarily let his grip loosen on
his captive—a move he regretted. He didn’t need her arguing against
him. Foolish woman. Didn’t she understand what he could do to
her?

With a jerk Jared yanked her up against him.
She sucked in breath and hung onto his arm as he backed up,
dragging her toward the door.

“Do something!” Merideth couldn’t believe the
constable and his deputy were simply standing there, watching this
happen. She tried to dig in her heels as he inched them across the
straw-covered floor, but her toes were barely touching the ground.
All manner of things she could do to stop his escape ran through
her head, but nothing seemed like it would work—not with the knife
pressing against her every time she took a deep breath.

Suddenly it was too late. He lunged backward,
out of the cell, pulling her off her feet. Her skirt swished around
them and Merideth wondered if she was taking her last breath. But
then just as abruptly she was let go. Her momentum sent her
spinning against the stone wall of the anteroom as her captor
slammed the cell door shut. He turned the brass key, pulling it out
and tossing it onto the heel-scarred desk top.

They both noticed the pistol lying on the
desk. But Jared Blackstone had it in his hand before Merideth could
push away from the wall.

He checked the pan, seemingly satisfied that
it was ready to fire, and aimed it casually at her.

“Come along, now, Lady Merideth. We mustn’t
tarry.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” Merideth
tried to keep her voice calm. She raised her chin in
determination.

“Oh, but you are.” He wasted no time slipping
the knife inside his boot.

“I can’t believe the constable didn’t search
you before putting you in the cell.”

Jared glanced up. The dimple in his cheek
flirted in and out as he grinned. “Neither could I.”

As quickly as the smile had transformed the
hard contours of his face, it was gone. His scowl made Merideth
shiver.

“You lead the way, your Ladyship.”

“I said I’m not going.”

“You have information I want and I’m not
leaving you here.”

Merideth’s only response was to lift her chin
higher. Jared clenched his jaw. “It would be a shame to shoot
you.”

“Go ahead. You’ll no doubt do it anyway, and
I’d rather die here than—umph!”

“Hell!” Jared tossed her over his shoulder,
ignoring her struggles to get free. Just his luck to pick a defiant
hostage. She kicked, her boot coming dangerously close to his
groin, and Jared hoisted her higher and tightened his grip on her
legs. He stuck the pistol in his pants and brought his hand down
hard over her bottom. “Do that again and you’ll be sorry. Now hush
up.”

Merideth could hear Amos Samuals and Les
yelling from inside the cell. But her captor didn’t seem to notice.
He simply strode to the door. Merideth prayed the yard in front of
the jail was packed with people. But apparently it wasn’t—though
she couldn’t see from her upside-down vantage—because after a quick
glance around he proceeded outside.

Jared Blackstone sat her on her horse, but
before Merideth could brush her hair back enough to see, he grabbed
the reins and walked her mare over to another horse, one presumably
belonging to Constable Samuals. In a quick, fluid motion he was in
the saddle, leading her horse down the crooked, narrow path away
from the small hamlet.

He may have anticipated Merideth’s plan to
jump from the saddle, for before she could, he urged both horses
into a gallop. It was all Merideth could do to hold on to her
sidesaddle.

There was no sound save the horses’ hooves
and the incessant whistling of the wind as they rode along the
hills and moors. They passed a stone house, small and low,
sheltered by a slight rise, and Merideth hoped to see the farmer or
his wife. But they were nowhere in sight. And as they galloped
alongside the stone hedge covered with bracken and furze, Merideth
realized it was for the best. No simple yeoman or his mate was a
match for Jared Blackstone.

“Where are you taking me?” Merideth called
out as they headed off across a field following the footpath.

He didn’t answer.

“You’d make better progress without me. I’m
just slowing you up.” Merideth waited a moment. “I won’t tell them
which way you went.”

“Be quiet,” was his only response. He didn’t
even look around, but simply kept them moving.

Late afternoon sunlight shone off the white
feathers of a gull circling overhead. Merideth was tired. Her
muscles ached from the long hours on horseback. Riding had never
been something she enjoyed, perhaps because for as long as she
could remember, Banistar Hall had not had much of a stable. She’d
ridden, of course, but never for this long, and certainly never
under such trying circumstances.

But the agony in her arms and back was
nothing compared to the distress she felt in her mind. What was he
going to do with her? Merideth felt she could withstand almost
anything if only she knew what to expect.

It had been the same with her father. Once
she’d discovered their alarming financial predicament, she’d been
better able to cope. It was the unexpected—the surprise—that
frightened her the most.

And she had no idea what to expect from Jared
Blackstone. She asked him repeatedly. She asked when they slowed to
ride around a stand of wind-tormented hawthorn, its limbs bent
inland, nearly touching the ground. When they paused to allow the
horses to drink from a small swift-moving stream. When she refused
to remount after the horses had drunk their fill.

But he never answered her. He never even
acknowledged that she spoke by so much as a nod of his head. When
she crossed her arms, refusing to take his proffered help into the
saddle, he simply picked her up and set her there, ignoring her
flinch of discomfort as her tender backside met the hard
leather.

Now they were riding through another
rock-strewn stream. Rather than crossing it, they followed the
current as it made its way to the river. Merideth shifted, her
physical and mental agony heightened by every step.

“I want to know where you’re taking me.”

Jared snorted and turned in his saddle, the
leather creaking. “So you’ve said... numerous times.”

Startled that he had bothered to respond,
Merideth straightened her shoulders. “Then perhaps you will answer
me.”

“To Banistar Hall,” was all he said before
clicking her horse to a faster pace.

“Banistar Hall? But that’s the first place
they’ll look for you.”

“Don’t tell me you’re concerned for my
welfare?”

That wicked grin was back again. Merideth
ignored it. “Not in the least.” She couldn’t imagine why she had
said that. “I certainly hope the constable apprehends you as
quickly as possible.”

“I’m sure you do,” Jared said, throwing the
words over his shoulder as he led her along.

“Of course I do. You murdered my father.”

His horse—rather, the constable’s
horse—stopped so suddenly Merideth’s mare nudged into him before
jolting to a stop. Jared Blackstone’s expression was fierce when he
stared around at her.

“I shall tell you one last time: I did not
kill your father.”

“Do you expect me to believe that?”

Jared took a deep breath, then shrugged. “I
suppose it matters naught what you believe.” After that he started
their little procession moving again.

The sun was setting before Merideth caught
sight of anything that looked familiar. They must have taken a very
roundabout route to Banistar Hall. As a matter of fact, Merideth
was almost certain they’d been traveling in circles most of the
afternoon, though she wasn’t certain if it was by design or not.
She did imagine it would be difficult for anyone to follow their
tracks.

But then it didn’t really matter if they were
followed. Amos Samuals was certain to go straight to Banistar Hall
and find them. And even if the constable didn’t come, Merideth knew
her way around the manor well enough to get away from her captor.
She would even force herself to go into one of the secret
passageways if necessary.

Except they weren’t heading along the path
toward the house. They were traveling along the narrow ridge that
separated the granite cliffs from the waters of the channel. When
they reached the beach he guided them down toward the surf.
Droplets sent spraying by the horses’ hooves sparkled in the last
rays of sunlight.

“We can’t reach the house from here. At least
not on horseback.”

“We’re not headed for the house.”

The caves.

Merideth knew before he turned the horses
that that was where he was taking her.

The dark, enclosed... mysterious caves.

The shudder that ran through her was
involuntary. As was the image her mind drew from the past. Of a
child... a little girl... defying her nanny and climbing down the
stairs chiseled in the rocks. To explore the caves.

It was nap time, but it always seemed to be
nap time as far as Miss Alice was concerned... or so Merideth
thought. She wasn’t tired. Not in the least. She flopped back on
the bed in the nursery in disgust. If anything, she had too much
energy. Tomorrow was her birthday. She was going to be eight. And
her father had promised to return from London for the occasion.

Merideth rolled to her side, propping her
cheek in her palm. Father said she was growing up, becoming a young
lady. But grown-up ladies didn’t nap the day away. At least she
didn’t think they should. Of course, she wasn’t around many ladies,
young or old, but she just knew she’d outgrown the need to sleep
all afternoon.

After sliding over the edge of the bed,
Merideth climbed down the steps and walked to the window. Sitting
down on the window seat, she smiled. She loved to look out over the
cliffs to the channel. She imagined if the sky were really clear
she could see the whole way to France. Papa went there often, to a
place called Paris. And he promised to take her there too... when
she became a young lady.

“But he’ll never think me grown enough if I’m
treated like a baby.” Merideth tossed back her pale ringlets and
glanced around the small room. It was a baby’s room. It was dark
and dreary. Not like the rest of the house, which glimmered and
shone. And certainly not like the view from the window of sparkling
sky and glittering water. The view that beckoned.