Thunder and Roses (60 page)

“I’m not taking any chances.” After laying her on the bed, he cleaned her wound with brandy, then applied an herbal poultice. “A Gypsy remedy,” he explained as he bandaged her arm again. “I keep a variety of them around. This one will prevent infection, and one of the ingredients reduces pain as well. Tomorrow we’ll get a doctor out here to check you over.”

“You know the most useful things.” She made a mental note to get the recipes for his remedies later. “It already hurts less.”

“Now you should get some rest.”

“Not yet. Since this seems to be the day for exposing old secrets, there’s one more.” She sat up and took his hand, then repeated the story of Marta, and why she had given away her son.

As he listened, Nicholas became very still and his face shuttered, so Clare could not read his reaction. When she finished speaking, she went to her dresser and got the leather pouch
Keja
had given her. Then she returned to stand by him.

“Your grandfather and Caroline betrayed you, but not Marta,” Clare said quietly. “According to
Keja
, Marta wanted me to be the one to explain, because another woman would know that a mother would always do the best she could for her child. Marta loved you, and she left you everything she had of value.” She opened the pouch and poured the contents across the counterpane.

Bouncing among the guineas was an ornate gold band that Clare had not noticed before. Nicholas lifted the ring and turned it in his fingers. “My mother’s wedding band.” His hand tightened around it. “I wish to God I had known she was ill.”

“Would you have let her leave you if you had known?”

He thought, then shook his head. “No, we were very close, which was why it was so devastating to think she could sell me. But if she was dying, my place was with her.”

“She might have feared that you would contract her disease. Also, if you had been with her when she died, would the Rom have taken you to your father’s family?”

This time there was no hesitation in his reply. “Never. They would consider it indecent to turn a Romany child over to a Gorgio, even a half-blood like me.”

“So in order to fulfill her promise to your father, she had no other choice but to act as she did.”

He tried to smile. “My mother was right to know that another woman would understand. Or rather, that you would understand and be able to explain it to me.” He closed his eyes and a pulse beat visibly in his throat.

She drew him into her arms, his head resting against her breasts as he absorbed the facts that changed his past. Finally he murmured, “It’s strange —whenever I thought of my mother, it hurt. It still hurts, but in an entirely different way.”

“Better or worse?”

He sighed. “Better, I suppose. Though I’m mourning her death, I can believe in my childhood again.”

She stroked his hair. “Are you sorry that she didn’t leave you with the Rom?”

There was a long silence before he said slowly, “I might have been happier. Certainly my life would have been simpler. Yet, it’s like Adam eating the apple—once there is knowledge of a wider world, it’s impossible to imagine going back.” He raised his head and caught her gaze with his. “And if I had stayed with the Rom, I never would have met you.”

Suddenly shy, she said, “Did you mean what you said earlier, before you kissed me? Or was that only part of your attempt to distract Madoc?”

His face eased. “I meant it.” He pulled her down so that she was sitting on the bed next to him. “It’s remarkable how the prospect of death focuses the mind. Almost as soon as you came to Aberdare, I was determined not to allow you to leave. That’s why I threatened to withdraw my aid whenever you talked of going away—it was the only tactic I had to persuade you to stay. My desire to thwart my grandfather’s wishes was so strong that the obvious way of keeping you never occurred to me.”

“You mean by marriage?”
           

He unpinned her hair and buried his fingers in the loose tresses. “Exactly. Notice how quickly I insisted on a wedding after we became lovers? I didn’t dare wait, because if we learned that you weren’t with child, I wouldn’t have had the excuse to marry you. Apparently my devious mind had already concluded that you would never become my mistress, so I needed an excuse to
honorably
reverse my vow not to marry.”

As delight bubbled through her, she began to laugh. “You did accept the idea of marriage with amazing ease.”

“Not the idea of marriage—the idea of you.” He tipped her face up, his eyes dark and soft as black velvet. “I think I always knew that if I won your loyalty, you would never betray me. And I was right, wasn’t I? Today you risked your life for mine.” His mouth quirked wryly. “I guess I’ve been looking for that kind of loyalty all my life. But don’t ever let me catch you doing that again. If Wilkins’s bullet had hit a couple of inches lower …” He shuddered.

“But it didn’t.” She touched his cheek.

“Actually, you’ve had quite a good day. We’re both alive, you’re finally free of your grandfather and Caroline, and you’ve regained your mother and Michael.”

He looked startled. “When you put it that way, it’s been a magnificent day.”

“I think I can think of a way to make it ever better.” She regarded him thoughtfully. “My arm scarcely hurts at all.”

He began laughing. “Do you mean what I think you do, you shameless wench?”

“Yes,” she said, unrepentant. “I want to feel you inside me, my love. After coming so near to death, I want to celebrate life.”

He bent his head and kissed her, his mouth warm with tenderness. “I love you, my dear schoolmistress. In fact, I would be delighted to experience another lesson in love right now. You’re sure your arm isn’t too sore?”

Laughing, she leaned back on the bed, pulling him down with her. “If you kiss me again, I won’t notice it at all.”

He made love to her gently, as if she were the most precious being on earth. As her lover, he had ravished her senses. This time he ravished her soul, for he held nothing back. And neither did she. Spirit to spirit and flesh to flesh, together they found the closeness she had dreamed of, and the reality exceeded her hopes as the sun exceeds a candle.

The Fallen Angel had come home.

Epilogue

August 1814

It was the grandest celebration in the history of the Penreith mine. In fact, it might have been the grandest occasion any mine had ever seen. As Clare and Nicholas rode smoothly down in the new steam lift, along with a dozen other guests, they heard music floating up the shaft, carrying over the sound of the new Watts pumping engine.

It had been Michael’s idea to celebrate the pit improvements with an underground reception to which everyone in the valley was invited. The large gallery at the base of the lift was brilliant with flowers and candles, and the crowd was overflowing into nearby tunnels. People were already busy at the refreshment tables, with children swarming five deep around the sweets.

As the musicians struck up a country tune, couples began to dance. Clare noticed that some of them were Methodists; it was hard to think of dancing in a coal mine as sin. Inevitably other guests started to sing lustily. The echoes of voices from stone walls made Clare think of the choir she had heard in Westminster Abbey, and the comparison did not reflect badly on the Welsh.

As they climbed from the lift, Michael came to greet them, a smile on his face. He had put on weight and looked so healthy and relaxed that it was hard to remember the tormented man he had been three months earlier. “What do you think of the pit now?”

“The place looks amazingly civilized,” Nicholas replied. “But what will you do with yourself now that everything is running so smoothly?”

“Don’t worry—I’ll think of something.”

Clare said, “Have Rafe and Lucien arrived yet?”

“They reached Bryn Manor late last night.” Michael chuckled. “Today, Lucien had to be forcibly dissuaded from taking apart the steam pump to see how it worked.”

Clare grinned. In the months since Michael had ended his feud with Nicholas, she had seen the charm and strength of character that had won him such admirable friends. Though she knew that his four years of hell must have left scars, he was determinedly getting on with the business of living. She sensed that his friendship with Nicholas had been tempered by his long ordeal and had emerged stronger than it had been in the past.

She scanned the chamber and saw Lucien deep in conversation with the mine engineer. Closer to hand, Rafe was listening attentively to an earnest five-year-old girl.

“There’s Rafe—leave it to him to find the prettiest blonde here.” Nicholas glanced at Clare. “Do you want to say hello?”

“In a minute. I want to speak to Marged first.”

“Don’t go too far away,” he ordered.

She smiled demurely. “No, my lord and master.”

He gave her a highly indecent pat in a place where no one could see, then went off to talk to his friends. Clare found Marged placidly cleaning up the mess Huw had made when he ate too much marzipan and became ill.

Her task completed, Marged straightened and gave Clare a hug. “Who would have ever believed the old pit could be such fun? Mind, I’m glad Owen accepted Nicholas’s offer to be foreman at the slate quarry. There are less opportunities for disaster.” She glanced across the stone chamber to where Nicholas, Michael, Lucien, and Rafe had drawn together. “They’re still the four best-looking men I’ve ever seen,” she said thoughtfully. “Except for Owen, of course.”

They talked for a few minutes, until a gaggle of children came up and carried Marged off. Clare watched them go a little wistfully. There were times when she missed being a full-time teacher, but she didn’t seem to have any trouble keeping busy. And now that she had Nicholas’s deep purse to plunder, she was able to help people on a broader scale. There were no more hungry children in Penreith, and the valley was becoming the prosperous, happy place she had dreamed of.

She drifted across the chamber toward Nicholas, stopping to talk with friends along the way. Whatever resentment had been engendered by her marrying above herself seemed to have gone away, since she and her husband were clearly part of the community.

Even though she approached Nicholas from behind, he sensed her presence. Without looking, he reached back and pulled her in front of him, then linked his arms around her waist. She relaxed against him, feeling as if she had come home. Tonight, she thought dreamily, she would tell Nicholas that she was almost sure that the next Gypsy Earl was on the way.

Lucien and Rafe greeted Clare warmly before returning to their fanciful discussion. Rafe declared, “Everyone needs to believe in something. I, for one, believe that since life is invariably fatal, one should at least live it with style.”

Lucien offered, “Though I have great respect for honesty, I believe that deviousness is an underrated talent.”

“I believe in honor,” Michael said promptly, “and the relaxing power of a good cigar.”

Clare’s eyes gleamed. “I believe that women are the equal of men.”

The Fallen Angels looked alarmed. “She’s dangerous, Nicholas. You’d better keep her happy,” Rafe said.

Nicholas laughed. “I intend to. And as to what I believe in …” He thought a moment. “I believe in penguins …”

“Not an easy thing to believe in even when one has seen the beasts,” Lucien interjected.

Nicholas grinned. “… and friendship.” His arms tightened around Clare’s waist. “And most of all, I believe in love.”
          

Author’s Note

 
For those who love historical trivia as much as I do:

The first slate-topped billiard table was manufactured by
John
Thurston in London in 1826. For decades, slate from South Wales was the preferred material. No doubt Thurston got the idea from Clare and Nicholas.