This Perfect Kiss (30 page)

“What happened the night Saundra died?”

“She and Lord Carrick argued. I do not think he realized how sick she had already become or I do not think he would have said the things he did. She ran away and came up here with the intent of taking as much gold as she could. I think she was desperate enough to take it to Westmont if he promised to take her back. She had no business coming up here. The weather was dangerous that night. I followed her. I begged her to consider what she was doing. But she was blind and deaf to reason. Nor did she care that if Westmont found the gold, 'twould be traced back to Blackthorn and to Leighton and me. I would not let her take it.

“She jerked away from me. The ledge is four feet wide. But that night, she could not stop from sliding on the damp stones, and I could not stop her from dying. I tried to grab her hand. She pulled my glove off and went rolling down the stairs and over the ledge. If it had not been wet that night . . . she might have been able to stop herself.”

Tia looked up and blinked back tears. “I was so terrified I hid in the lantern room for a day. No one ever came up to the cupola. Why should they, when everyone thought she had been distraught and jumped? I let Leighton . . . I let everyone think she had killed herself because of Lord Carrick.”

Christel turned her head. The backlash of wind caught her hair. “Saundra wrote me a letter asking me to come home and care for Anna as her governess. She had asked Stephen to mail it after she was gone. She must have written it that night.”

“ 'Twould make sense. She wanted you to care for Anna.”

God.
“Have I always been such a naïve fool?”

“You have always been generous and unspoiled and loyal to those you love. I know that she loved you. She had no intention of ever returning. Maybe she was trying to do one decent thing for you before she left Blackthorn Castle, and that was to bring you together with Lord Carrick.” Tia inhaled and leaned her head back against the rock. “Now you know everything.”

Christel wished she hadn't. Lord in heaven, she wished she hadn't known any of it.

She gave Tia the ring. “This belongs to you.”

Tia studied the filigree gold band. “I thought I had lost this forever.” After a moment, she asked, “What will you do now?”

“Lord Carrick has a right to know. Anna has a right not to live with the stigma of her mother's suicide.” But was it better to learn that Saundra was trying to run away with stolen gold, and that she was an adulteress?

Christel drew her legs to her chest. “If I tell Carrick the truth, he will hunt Sir Jacob down. But if I say nothing, Sir Jacob lives free. If I say anything at all, you will be implicated in her murder. And what about the gold? You could be accused of murder. At the very least you could be transported.

“I do not know what to do, Tia. How could you put your life in my hands like this? Why would you do it? You could have told me Saundra stole the ring from you. I would have believed you!”

Tia's wet gaze went to the sea, where salt mist was forming over the blue-gray water. A bank of white clouds was building over Arrann. “We have no cloak, and it gets cold up here at night,” Tia said. “I do not think either of us wants to go back into the tower, and we can't leave by way of the beach until the tide goes down.”

Christel leaned out and looked up the goat trail. The ledge was a natural funnel for the wind. What was left of the path extended thirty feet in an inward slope that tapered to nothing before falling off into open air. The trail itself was a mix of crushed rock, clumps of grass and bird droppings. “If I give you a boot up over there, can you reach the wall?”

Tia shuddered but nodded. They walked to within a few feet of the drop-off, standing on five feet of ledge and needing only to climb four feet to the top. Christel knelt and linked her palms for a step. Tia stepped into her hands and Christel boosted her up. In moments, Tia scrabbled over the side, sending a shower of loose pebbles down on Christel's head, causing her to choke and cough. Tia stuck her head over the ledge.

“I made it,” she said unnecessarily and held out her hand. Her long chestnut hair had torn away from the pins and hung over the ledge like the flowing mane of a mermaid. “You will have to climb a little to the left. I see a foothold.”

Christel drew in her breath. She stepped into the crevice as she pushed off and grabbed Tia's hand. The rock beneath her shoe broke. She slipped and clawed for a handhold in the loose rock. She began to slide backward. For a terrifying moment, one foot dangled above empty space as she sought a foothold in the rock.

“I need your other hand!” Tia was shouting. “Take my arm so I can pull you up!”

Grabbing Tia's outstretched arm with her second hand meant letting go of the only grip she had on the rock face. With all her strength, Christel reached for Tia's hand and latched on to her arm. Together they worked to pull her over the ledge and to safety. Breathing hard, Christel collapsed on all fours. Tia sprawled on her back and found herself staring up at the cloudy sky. They were both suddenly laughing.

Christel lifted her head and found her sister. “You could have dropped me,” she said seriously. “Then your secret would have been safe forever.”

Tia sat up. Her bodice was ripped at her shoulder. Her knuckles were scraped. “And lose my only sister when it has taken me this long to find out that I
like
you? I would rather die myself.”

Christel looked over Tia's shoulder at the old tower courtyard. Thick growths of alders, larch and birch blanketed the landscape. They would have to walk around the high stone wall to get back onto Blackthorn Castle grounds. Christel stood and helped her sister to her feet. They had walked a hundred yards when the sound of horses approaching alerted Christel. She pulled Tia into a cove of alders.

A half dozen riders approached at a gallop, Camden in the lead. He saw the two sisters and swung his horse in their direction.

“His lordship looks angry,” Tia said.

He was dressed in nondescript homespun with a coat over plain brown breeks and hose, as if he had been called from the sheep pens. He reined in beside Christel. Thick clouds flew overhead, driven by the wind, and battered her hair as his gaze dropped down to her soiled skirts. She saw it was taking him a moment to assemble a frown as he looked from Tia to her.

“Doctor White was concerned when neither of you returned to the surgery.”

“I went to the Lighthouse Tower,” Christel said.

“He told me.”

“You never asked me not to go,” she said.

“I never asked you not to walk along the edge of the cliff either, and still I had thought you would have the sense not to. The tower is dangerous. I should have torn it down years ago.”

“You should have, but you have not.”

He motioned for a rider to come forward. “Take Miss Etherton back to Blackthorn so that she can clean up and change.”

Tia gave Christel a shaky smile. Then Christel watched Tia mount and ride away with the other riders, leaving Christel and Camden alone.

“What was all of that about?” he quietly asked. “I have no idea why you would come here.”

“This entire area is dead. You have closed away the tower courtyard, encapsulated the tragedy in time. This place stands as a shrine to the heartbreak of that night, a rock headstone as if you need more self-flagellation—”

“Enough, Christel.”

“What happened that night was not your fault. She failed you.”

He crossed his hands over his reins and looked toward the sea.

“Marry me,” she said. “I want to be your wife.”

He slid from the horse and stumbled. She caught him by his shoulder. He hated his weakness. Hated the constant reminder of his failure. Still, she moved against him.

“What is this really about?”

“Justice,” she whispered. “The future.”

His fingers speared through her hair, pulling her head back. His sex stirred against her belly. It was thick and hard, and she could feel the heat of it through her clothes.

She took his palm and placed it against her heart. “Tear down this place or make something good of it, Camden. Go visit her at the church. Say hello. Say good-bye. Tell her she was a fool. Tell her anything and let us be done with it.”

She looked into his eyes, her own clear and unshielded from his. He touched the end of her nose with his fingertip, kissed her deeply, then wrinkled his nose. “You will forgive me, my love, but you need a bath.”

She leaned against him, holding him tightly. And did not disagree.

Chapter 19

L
eighton listened to the subtle swish of fabric and the soft tread of slippers pacing back and forth on the oak floor. Opening one eye, he gave his trespasser's back a frown even as he admired the way her skirts flared from her hips.

As he pushed himself up on an elbow, she lifted her head. Upon meeting her gaze, his first thought was to check his weapons. His second was less refined. The simple cream linen dress matched her hair. With her wealth of butter-soft curls pinned atop her head, she looked refreshingly virginal—quite different from the women with whom he'd been acquainted of late. Until this moment, he had always considered Christel sensible.

Coming to his senses, he asked, “How did you find me? Hell, did you come to Dunure alone?”

“Luck. And yes.”

Leighton slept naked. The sheet covered the lower half of his body, but that was all the modesty it afforded him. “What are you doing here?” he asked, at once suspicious. “I thought my brother would have you on a short leash by now.”

“You thought wrong, Leighton St. Giles.”

Watching her approach, he considered telling her that she was playing a dangerous game coming to an inn filled with disreputable blackguards, looking like a lovely swan among geese.

“I want you to testify against Sir Jacob,” she said. “Stand as witness against his crimes. I want everyone to know the kind of man he is.”

He sat with his back against the headboard, leery now as he narrowed his eyes. “I would like for everyone to know the kind of man he is, too. But that will not happen as long as he is provost.”

She opened her palm to reveal a shiny gold coin.

He sat up as a cold chill went over him. “Where did you get that?”

She tossed it to him. His reflexes keener than usual despite the night of drinking, he caught the coin.

“Saundra sent it to me before she died. Sir Jacob fathered Saundra's babe, then sent her to a butcher. He betrayed Camden and hurt Anna. I want him . . . gone. He is evil.” Her eyes shone wet with passion.

“What are you talking about?”

“Tia told me about the gold in the tower. She told me everything.”

With a quiet oath, Leighton flipped the coin back at her. “Where is Tianna now?”

“Why do you care?”

He threw his legs over the side of the mattress and stood, grabbing a sheet as he did for modesty's sake, though he didn't know why he bothered.

He took two steps and came face-to-face with a pistol. “Do not think I will not use this if you threaten me,” she said. “There are places I can shoot that will not kill you but will hurt like bloody hell.”

“All right.” He returned to sit on the edge of the mattress. He had no wont to hurt or scare her, but he was suddenly furious. “Camden will not appreciate that you have come here on his behalf, Christel.”

“But you loved Saundra, too.”

“Camden has a right to know the truth. Saundra was his wife.”

“But he could kill Camden. He is already a criminal!”

He stood. “Aye, so am I and so are you if one looks deeply enough into your past. Do you have proof of his crimes?”

She drew herself up.

“I did not think so.”

She lowered the pistol. “I should have known you would not help your brother or me or Tia.”

He grabbed her arm. “What are you talking about? Is Tianna in trouble?”

“Talk to her yourself.”

“I am talking to you.”

“Leave off, Leighton. I should have known you were incapable of helping me.” She flung open the door and stopped dead on the threshold.

Camden leaned against the wall in front of the door, his boots crossed at the ankles. The dark woolen shade of his cloak blended with his hair, and only the cutlass he wore was visible in the dim corridor light. His predatory stance told Leighton he'd been listening a long time.

No one moved.

Camden's pale silver gaze shifted to Christel. “You certainly make my life more interesting, love,” he said. “I have been searching everywhere for you. Worried as hell.”

“I can see that, my lord. I am found out.”

He pushed away from the wall. Entering the room, he shut the door and faced her. “So you would duel with Sir Jacob for my honor.”

“I would duel him for your life. Your honor has never been in doubt.”

Camden looked past her at Leighton, standing in a sheet. For once Leighton had the good sense to keep his mouth shut. His eyes narrowing slightly, Camden held out his gloved hand to Christel in a silent command for the coin. She gave it to him. He turned it over in his hand and raised his head.

“I would never have forgiven you if you had done something to cause yourself harm.”

He opened his arm. Christel stepped against him, pressing her face against his shoulder as he held her against him. “Do you understand?”

“How did you know where to find me?” she asked.

Camden looked pointedly at Leighton. “Tia came forward this morning and told me everything. She has made a confession to the sheriff for her part in Saundra's death and implicated Westmont in more than the murder of those men who died guarding the gold.”

Christel shook her head. “Nay, she should not have. How could she? Why did you allow her to do so? They could hang her.”

“Because she loves you, Christel. And she would not see you do anything that would jeopardize your future. She could not save Saundra. But she believed she could save you and Leighton.” His next words were for Leighton. “She took full responsibility for everything.”

“Where is Tianna now?” Leighton asked.

“She is at Blackthorn Castle for now. We are looking for Westmont.” Camden tossed the coin in the air and caught it. “Shall we go down and spend this?” he said to Christel. “See what sharks we can dredge up from that cesspool downstairs?”

T
he dowager snorted and thumped the ground with her cane. “Who'd have thought England would ever see the day when Sir Jacob would be wanted for questioning in a crime.”

“Who would believe it of him,” Grams said.

Christel's gaze went to Tianna, who was sitting quietly on the settee at the back of the drawing room, reading to Anna. By the look of the girl sleeping on Tia's lap, Anna had lost interest in the story. Dog had been allowed inside and lay on the floor near the settee.

Christel walked to where a circle of light separated her sister from the shadows of the night. Tia was staring outside.

“How are you doing?” Christel asked.

Tia folded her hands over Anna's shoulders. “Leighton came to see me this afternoon. He was furious. He tried to step forward and take responsibility. He must have been eating mushrooms, I think. Either way, he is quite mad.”

“We are all worried.”

Tia's mouth softened. “I could not let you ask him to find Sir Jacob alone. I know you wanted to protect Lord Carrick. But I needed to protect Leighton.”

“They will find Sir Jacob.” Christel wrapped her hand around Tia's. “You need not be afraid. Camden is not without power, Tia.”

“I know.” Tia's gaze lifted to encompass Christel. “But Sir Jacob will never be convicted. Saundra is dead, and twenty thousand pounds buys a lot of loyalty,” she said. “It buys witnesses and tribunal verdicts. I am glad everyone knows the truth.”

“He will not go free, Tia.”

“I know.”

Something in Tia's voice sent a chill down Christel's spine. She looked around her at the drawing room, then out the window. She stood and peered out the glass. The moon was bright tonight, but she could see the distant glow of firelight somewhere on the beach. She had expected Camden and Leighton to return by now. A cold chill went down her spine.

“Where are they, Tia?” She was not sorry for her anger.

“Leighton only said 'twould be finished for Westmont one way or the other tonight. Sir Jacob is dangerous to you as well, Christel.”

S
tars appeared only in patches in the sky. A fire burned on the beach. Camden's men from the
Anna
stood beyond the circle of light as a cloaked and hooded form was brought forward and dumped on the sand with little fanfare or regard to his rank. The ropes binding his hands behind him were cut and the black hood stripped away.

Jacob Westmont lifted his head. A hush descended on the firelit scene. Westmont's dark hair hung in his eyes, pulled out of a thong by the hood. His gaze first narrowed on Leighton, who stood behind and to the left of Camden.

“He is not the one you need to fear this night,” Camden said.

“Carrick,” he rasped.

Camden waited, gripping a sword in each hand, and for a moment he wondered if he was any less barbarous than Westmont. Camden wanted to kill him for the betrayal of their friendship, his trust, the harm he had done Anna, his threat to Christel.

Westmont struggled to stand, his boots digging in the wet sand.

“We are at sword's points, Westmont.” Camden tossed down a dueling sword. “This fight is between you and me. No one else will interfere.”

Westmont hesitated. “You wish to duel with
me
?”

“Would you pretend innocence? Pick up the sword.”

Westmont grabbed the hilt, dragging the blade off the ground. The handle was smooth from wear, the balance perfect in his hand. He had held it enough during their practices. He raised his head. The shock of his capture had begun to wear away. “I will not fight to kill you, Carrick. We do not have to do this.”

“What would you have me do instead? What would you do if you were in my boots?”

Westmont's eyes darted around the circle of men. His gaze returned to Camden. He raised the sword. “If 'tis any consolation, I would that it never happened between me and Saundra. But it did.” He glared at Leighton. “Did your brother tell you about the gold?”

“He knows,” Leighton said. “He knows you had six men killed in your search for it.”

Camden and Westmont began to stalk each other in a circle. “You can never prove anything, Carrick. There is no one alive who can bear witness to any accusation you make against me. I will deny them all and see your brother condemned for the theft and hanged alongside Tianna Etherton.”

“The gold will be restored to the king's coffers, Westmont.”

“You are my business partner. If something happens to me, you lose your investments. If I go down, you crash.”

“Did you burn Seastone Cottage?”

“My men have orders to burn out anyone suspected of aiding and abetting seditionists and criminals.”

“What if she had been in bed that night, the same as the Fergusons had been in their cottage when your men set it to flame?”

Two steps, Camden met his attack. Naked blades flashed in the firelight. They battled around the clearing, the metallic click of blades sharing the night with the sound of waves breaking on the beach. Blood pumped through his veins, feeding life into his limbs. Westmont fought with strength and fury. Camden merely fought. Relentlessly. The battle carried the two men across the beach, the circle of men stretching outward to accommodate the duel.

“You are a fool, Carrick.” Westmont's weapon glided against his. Standing nose to nose, their swords crossed over their heads, slid and met again. “For all the good this will do. You were my friend. I would have let you live. Now I will see you dead and every member of your family destroyed, including that little colonial bed warmer you have taken a fancy to.”

Camden stepped behind the riposte and slashed his cutlass across the other man's blade. Westmont whirled at once, going for Camden's vulnerable side. “You are fighting like a Barbary pig, Westmont,” he rasped in a cutting whisper. “Desperate.”

“You are a traitor, Carrick. Like your brother. Ask him about the time he spent with your wife. Do you think I was the only one?”

“Aye, I do.”

Camden swung his fist, hitting Westmont across the jaw and felling him. Westmont rolled and, barely evading Camden's fatal blow, came up slashing. The blade caught Camden's sleeve, tearing through the fabric. He managed to spin away before Westmont's blade sliced down across his arm. “You were my friend, Jacob.”

Every blow smashed with relentless fury as he parried Jacob's moves. “You betrayed me. You betrayed Saundra. You betrayed the men who follow you and take your orders.”

His breathing rough, his chest heaving, Westmont lunged.

But for all the barbarity in his own heart, Camden fought with finesse and control. Blade met blade, glinting silver in the moonlight. He slammed backward against a rock and ducked, but his leg was less than agile and he stumbled. Westmont's blade struck stone. Sparks shattered the darkness. With a surge of force, Westmont pushed him backward.

At the last possible second, he deflected the sword with his remaining strength. And then, Camden sidestepped and his own sword sank into Westmont's side. Neither man moved. Their eyes held. “It could have been through the heart,” Camden rasped. “But I will not let you off that easily.”

Camden released Westmont and watched him drop to his knees in the sand. His chest heaving, his breath coming in gasps, he stood over Westmont, his hand clutched tightly to the hilt of his weapon, but something stopped him from the fatal blow. “What happened to you, Jacob? What happened to the man I knew? My mentor?”

Camden hurt deep inside him. His fury was gone, leaving something else. Regret. Grief.

“Where is your honor, Carrick? Have done with it.”

Swaying on his feet, Camden tossed his sword to the sand beside Westmont's. “Honor is squandered on dishonorable men.”

And women,
he thought, thinking of the waste Saundra had made of her life. She certainly had not been worth killing for.

Camden staggered back, and something caused him to lift his head. He looked directly into Christel's eyes.