The Captain's Caress (53 page)

The light of the small lamp seemed to contract abruptly when Brent reached the stairway descending to the great hall. He could see only the tiny flame before him; the rest was in total darkness. He realized that he made a perfect target for a waiting assassin, but he continued to move forward, pausing only now and then to listen intently for the man he was now certain was following him.

Brent reached the ground level and paused long enough to blow out his lamp. He waited for his eyes to become accustomed to the deep gloom; he and his pursuer would make the last of their journey in the dark. Brent knelt down and removed his slippers, then he moved forward with great care in his stockinged feet. Suddenly he crouched and pitched a slipper into the inky shadows around him. The soft plop was followed by the sharp report of a pistol, running footsteps behind him, and the barely perceptible closing of a door.

Then all was silent once more.

Brent waited, but no sound came to his straining ears. At last he rose to his feet and proceeded across the hall toward a door that had been imperfectly closed. For several moments he stood before it, but he could hear nothing before or behind him. He wasn’t sure of which way to turn, but after pausing to listen once more, he dropped to a crouch just as he reached for the handle.

Ever so slowly, Brent turned the handle, not making a sound, and began to open the door. He knelt, ready to spring into action, waiting only for a creak or any light noise that would betray the presence of his enemy, but the door continued to open soundlessly until Brent could see half of the room. He was in the library, the room where, ten years earlier, he had beaten Gowan into unconsciousness with a riding crop; he wondered if Gowan remembered that fateful night as vividly as he did.

Peering intently into the dark room, Brent was barely able to make out the small globe on the desk and he aimed his second slipper directly at it. The globe toppled, a second pistol shot shattered the dark, and Brent rolled behind a wing chair near a long heavy table.

“That’s your last shot, Gowan,” he said, addressing the dark shadows behind the door. “Now you’ll have to face me with nothing more than your strength and cunning. Are you sure that will be enough? You don’t have your men behind you now and the sheriff isn’t combing the countryside for me.”

Brent thought he could hear the sound of ragged breathing, but he couldn’t tell where it was coming from.

“Come on out, Gowan, I’m not armed. I don’t even have a riding crop this time.” Gasping breaths again came to Brent’s ears and he smiled. “There are no more secrets to hide, there is now no reason to play hide-and-seek in the dark. This is where it ends, right here, tonight.” Brent could feel the tension in the room escalate. He felt about him, searching for anything to use as a projectile. He chose a book and slid it across the tabletop. The sudden whooshing sound, coming as it did in the dead silence, was quite startling and Brent saw a brief flash of metal across the room. Just as he’d thought: Gowan had a knife and was moving along the far wall in his direction.

Brent moved out from behind the table, headed toward the center of the room; he had to get Gowan between him and the sliver of light that came through the window. If he could just see the man’s outline, he wouldn’t need any cover, he would welcome Gowan’s attack.

“Come on now, Gowan. Surely you’re not going to let a coward—that was the word you used, wasn’t it—keep you crouching in the shadows like an animal. But then I guess it doesn’t take much to scare a man who preys on old men, boys, women, and now babies.”

Brent thought he saw a shadow move.

“Just think of what your friends would say if they knew you couldn’t even smother a helpless child without help. You could hear them laughing in London.” ;

The shadow definitely moved.

“Of course if it ever got out that you were knocked down and mauled by a woman, you wouldn’t be able to hold your head up, but I don’t think anybody will be listening by the time—”

“Fiend! I’ll kill you once and for all!” The words exploded from Gowan’s throat as he launched himself in the direction of the maddeningly calm voice that had taunted and mocked him; the voice of the man who had eluded him for ten years and who threatened to do so once more.

Brent only sensed the shadow’s movement, but he did see the glint of the knife as Gowan raised it above his head and he silently moved out of his path. Gowan stopped, confused when he found nothing solid in the darkness; he paused, panting from exertion, and waited, expecting the maddening voice to come at him from another part of the room.

“Your sense of direction is a little off. I’m over here.” Brent was ten feet from where he’d been when Gowan had charged him. Gowan twisted sharply about and made painful contact with the leg of a heavy table.

“Maybe you can see me now,” Brent called as he moved the curtain enough to allow a thin shaft of light to enter the room. Gowan immediately charged in his direction, but again he found only empty space, and the taunting voice, now coming from another part of the room, baited and mocked him until he was aflame with rage.

Twice more Gowan launched a murderous attack only to come up against ambient air and then to be driven to fury by soft, mocking laughter.

“It appears I will have to light a lamp for you,” Brent jeered, “or you’ll drop from fatigue before you find me.”

“Come out and fight like a man, you slippery coward,” Gowan roared. “You’re the one who’s afraid.”

“No, only prudent.” Brent had moved again, and Gowan whirled to face him.

“Stand still!” he shouted, half-mad.

Suddenly the library door opened, and Summer stood framed in the shadowy light.

“Brent, are you in here?” With a cry of triumph, Gowan rushed toward her, but a hand suddenly reached out and drew her into the safety of darkness.

Brent had been just as stunned as Gowan when she had appeared, but he had instinctively launched himself at Gowan’s shadowy form, like a cat whirling to face danger from an unexpected quarter. Now reaching out in the darkness for a body he couldn’t see, he brushed against Gowan’s feet. He was unable to get a grip on him, but he struck out firmly enough to bring him down. Brent rolled into a ball and tumbled past Gowan just as a knife was driven into the floor where he’d been.

Gowan yanked his knife out of the wood and turned to face Brent; they grappled in the dark, the knife slicing into the warm flesh of Brent’s arm and sending excruciating pain through it. But Brent barely noticed. He had located Gowan and the deadly knife at last. With terrifying strength, he twisted Gowan’s arm until it threatened to break. Gowan dropped the knife and brought his knee up into Brent’s stomach; then he drove his clasped hands down on Brent’s neck in what should have been a stunning blow. He whirled to find the knife, but he had underestimated his foe. Brent was up and bringing him down from behind. With a powerful wrenching movement, Gowan turned over on his back and brought up both feet, intending to drive them into Brent’s groin, but in a display of control and agility, Brent twisted away from the feet and threw himself upon Gowan, his hands seeking his foe’s throat in a death grip. Gowan fought with the desperate strength of a man who sees death coming to meet him, but the hands did not relax their pressure until Gowan’s body fell away, limp and unresisting.

Chapter 50

Summer poured the tea and then handed cups of it to Smith and her husband. The lawyers and representatives of the King’s justice had taken up all of Brent’s time this past week, but at last he was now free of the complications resulting from Gowan’s death. Everything had turned out to be rather simple in the end, if not quick to settle, because of Gowan’s passion for keeping records. It was easy to prove that his entire fortune had its beginnings in property and monies that belonged to either Brent or Summer. “It’s all yours or your wife’s,” the lawyers had said, “so there’s really nothing for us to do.”

“It seems Gowan hoarded every cent he got his hands on,” Brent said to Smith and Summer. “He only spent money on you, and then he let you slip right through his fingers into my arms.”

“I can recall when neither of you was very happy about that,” said Smith.

“We’re happy now, and that’s what’s important.” Summer was settled contentedly beside her husband.

“It seems that you have quite a considerable dowry after all,” Smith remarked. “Young Lord Robert Frederick is going to be a very wealthy man someday.”

“Young Robert will have lots of brothers and sisters with whom to share his good fortune,” Summer promised. “I’ve discovered I like babies.”

“Which brings us around to you,” Brent said to Smith.

“To me?”

“To your help.”

“All I did was wait comfortably in camp, only to find you didn’t need me after all.”

“I notice you don’t mention following me down to the library and then pulling Summer out of Gowan’s path when he tried to kill her.”

“Did you know he was there all the time?” Summer asked.

“I never thought for a minute that I’d get one step past the end of the corridor without Smith dogging my footsteps.”

“You couldn’t have gotten that far. He didn’t even take me back to my room. He made Bridgit and Wigmore go with me.”

“Remind me to teach Bridgit to tie you down when you’re supposed to remain in one place. I heard Smith follow me across the hall, but I wasn’t sure he had gotten into the library and I nearly lost my head when I saw you in that doorway.”

Smith tried to play down the value of his contribution, but Brent and Summer would hear none of that. “No more arguing. You and the men will be paid as I promised. And I’m going to give you the island as well. You can sell it and divide the money amongst you.”

“We’ve already talked about it, and we refuse to accept the island or your money,” Smith stated categorically. “But tell me this. Do you plan to go to sea anymore?” Brent looked at Summer and shook his head.

“I have too much to keep me here.”

“Then make me captain of the
Windswept
and the men equal partners.”

“I will, and I’ll do the same with the plantation.”

“The ship’s plenty. We’ve done little enough for you compared to what you’ve done for us.”

“Good Lord, what did I do besides help you risk your hides?”

“You gave us wealth, success, and work we can do with pride.”

“But we don’t need the plantations,” Summer declared.

“Maybe not now, but someday you may want to return to them, if only for a little while. Remember, both of you have more roots there than in Scotland.”

“Thank you, old friend. You have shown your selflessness once again,” Brent said.

“I have done nothing of the kind.” Smith smiled nervously. “I now have the best ship and crew on the Atlantic under my command. I intend to be as rich as you someday.”

“And you will. Nothing has ever stood in your way.”

“God bless you.” Summer stood on tiptoe to kiss Smith as he prepared to leave. “I’ll always remember your kindness and understanding. I hope you find someone who can make you as happy as you deserve to be. She’ll be a lucky woman.”

For once in his life Smith was left with nothing to say.

“You’d better go before she maps out the rest of your life,” Brent warned. “Things she says have an uncanny way of coming true.”

They said their goodbyes cheerfully, but Summer felt a sense of loss when the door closed behind Smith.

“He’s the finest friend a man could have. I’m going to miss him,” Brent stated.

“Then I’ll have to see what I can do to distract you.” Summer smiled and wiped her eyes. “When you get tired of thinking about improving farms and reducing rents, we might consider a sister for Robert.”

“I don’t intend to wait for that,” Brent retorted, putting an arm around her waist and caressing her cheek.

Summer leaned her face against his hand, enjoying the contact that always made her pulse race. “I was wondering if you’d have enough energy for both,” she said, giving him a challenging glance.

“You’ll soon see how much energy I have,” Brent declared as he swept her into his arms and headed toward the bedroom.

“Will you be as interested in me now that I’m a married woman who nurses her child and worries about whether the meat will be properly prepared for dinner?”

“Even as such a one.” Brent kicked the bedroom door open with his booted foot. His voice had become husky and that peculiar greenish tint only Summer had the power to evoke was in his eyes.

“There is one more thing I want,” he said, depositing her on the bed and settling down beside her.

“You always want that,” Summer teased. Brent was responding as always to her nearness, but the soberness of his expression made her pause. “What is it?” she asked more solemnly.

“I would like us to be married.”

“But we’re already married,” Summer pointed out, half sitting up in surprise. “We are, aren’t we?”

“As far as everybody else is concerned, but we’ve never exchanged our vows. It was all done without your knowledge, even without your consent. I want to
hear
you say you want to be my wife.”

“You just want a lot of people to hear me swear to obey you,” Summer teased, but she was trying very hard not to cry with happiness. “I never could trust you when you started acting nice.” Instead of matching her mood, Brent took Summer’s face in his hands and looked directly into her eyes. There was no evasion, no teasing, only naked emotional hunger in his gaze.