Dreaming (34 page)

His head hurt like the very devil. He closed his eyes, flinching from the jab of a blinding headache. He took a deep breath and relaxed as the sharp jab of pain in his head faded.

A rock or two poked him in the small of his back, and the knuckles on his right hand felt bruised. He was aware that his head rested in the softness of her lap.

Something wet fell on his cheek and she quickly brushed it away. He opened his eyes and saw that worried face wearing the same dismayed and remorseful expression he’d seen so many times over the years, from that wooden bridge so long past to the ship’s hold only a few days before.

Another teardrop fell.

“Don’t do that.”

“What?” she said in a choked whisper.

“Cry. I can’t think when you cry.”

“I’m sorry.”

He closed his eyes and lay there reliving in his head what had happened. The whole incident came back to him swiftly with the throbbing of his knuckles, then the throbbing of his head.

Life’s little ironies. Harry had actually been playing the hero. But Richard had lost control. Completely. Absolutely. He had wanted to kill the man for touching her.

He had walked into that cave and seen Harry on top of her, then he’d reacted on instinct, with no thought, nothing but pure red rage.

“I can’t let you do this to me,” he murmured, not realizing he’d even said his thoughts aloud until she spoke.

“I didn’t mean to do it. I didn’t hit you on purpose this time.” Her words were rushed and threaded with a panicked need for explanation.

She didn’t understand that it was too late, that what he had been speaking of had nothing to do with hitting him on head, and more to do with the fact that she had hit him where it counted—right in that heart he claimed he didn’t have.

Nor would he allow himself to have it now. Nothing had changed, except that now their situation was more complicated because he cared about her.

“I know these incidents keep happening,” she rambled on. “But I swear to you I don’t mean for them to happen.”

“I understand,” he said quietly, setting her up for what he was about to do. Had to do.

“You understand, truly?”

“Yes.” He paused, then opened his eyes and gave her a cold stare.

She was very quiet, then said, “I would never hurt you.”

Yes, hellion, I know that, but for your own good, I’m going to hurt you.

“I could never hurt you.”

Although the others tried not to watch, Richard knew they were all listening.

“You see, I believe you need me.”

“Why?” He shifted closer until his face was scant inches from hers. “Haven’t you done enough damage?”

“No, wait! Now I understand. Your purpose in life is to torture me, and you’re not finished yet.”

It was her turn to flinch.

He could see he’d succeeded in humiliating her. He didn’t allow his expression to change. He tightened one hand into a fist. It kept him from reaching out and touching her.

“I’m sorry. I—” She stopped, her throat sounding too tight to let her finish. Her head bent in defeat.

She stared at her tightly clasped hands, taking deep breaths that appeared to hurt.

She finally managed to swallow and whispered painfully, “As hard as I try, I can’t seem to say or do the right thing.” She slowly raised her eyes to his with a look that said she was afraid of what she would see.

And he didn’t let her down.

He straightened and gave her a look meant to send her running. “Don’t bother worrying about what you say to me. Just stay the bloody hell away.”

Seymour
spotted the smoke from the cave first. He jumped from the landing skiff and ran across a small strip of sandy beach. He stood in the cave entrance, his breath coming in hard shocks.

A small fire burned nearby, casting the interior in a flickering dim light. At the sight of a group of men, he drew his pistol, feeling the fool for not waiting for Hunt and the others.

But then he saw that none of them were armed. He scanned the interior, looking for discarded weapons. He saw none, but he spotted the girl.

She sat in a corner, her arm around that huge bloodhound and her body bent like that of a beaten child. Her hair hung in wild tangles that showed how long she’d been captive, and her clothing was filthy, her skirts charred black as if they had been burned.

But it was her aura of despair, her desolate sadness, that touched him more than anything. The chit looked as if she hadn’t a friend in the world.

His gaze shifted to the opposite side of the cave, and he had to stop himself from shouting Richard’s name. But something about the way his friend sat there stopped him.

Seymour
felt a sudden jab of guilt. He’d sat in
Belmore’s
study and laughed about Richard and the chit. What he saw now wasn’t humorous.

Richard was as silent as the girl, his unshaven jaw tight and tense, and his head resting in one hand as he stared down at the ground. He wore no cloak.

His coat and shirt were torn and frayed. Both looked as if they had been for a swim with him. His garments showed the truth of what his friend had been through. He looked like hell.

Almost palpable was the tension from within the cave. The other men looked afraid to speak, awkward and out of place.

Everything about the Hornsby hellion screamed vulnerable, fragile. And Richard looked as if he had a wall as thick as that of Newgate around him.

Seymour
could hear Hunt and the others coming up behind him, and he remembered how he’d intended to torment Richard with quips about his bad luck— their usual banter.

But it appeared that Richard had been tormented enough. All
Seymour
said was, “
Downe
.”

Richard looked up quickly and winced, then shook his head slightly as if to clear it. His face was gaunt and paler than
Seymour
could ever remember seeing. “
Seymour
! Thank God.”

Seymour
felt the presence of Hunt and the others at his side but said nothing. His attention was on Richard. There was more emotion on his face than
Seymour
had seen in years. Gratitude, relief, and something else, something that troubled him. He saw raw fear.

Richard stood up, as did the others.

“Don’t anyone else move!”
Seymour
warned, cocking the pistol.

Frowning for a moment, Richard looked from
Seymour
back to the group of men, then said, “They won’t harm anyone.”

“Aye,” one of the men said, and they all spread their hands in front of them.

Richard took a step and faltered.

“Are you injured?”

“No.” Richard cast a quick cold glance at the girl, who had not moved.

To
Seymour
, she looked as if she were afraid to, that if she did she might shatter. Then something flickered in Richard’s eyes as if he too were going to break.

But as quickly as it showed itself, it disappeared behind that coldness Richard used to his advantage. He walked past
Seymour
. “All I want is to get the devil out of here.”

Letty
lit another candle, stepped over Gus, who was sleeping near the fireplace, and started to cross the bedchamber. A knock at the door stopped her. “Yes?”

The door opened slowly. A girl stood in the shadow of the entrance, partially hidden by the shadow of the half-open door.

“Miss Hunt?”
Letty
asked, feeling as tentative as the girl looked. She had no female friends. Never had.

Her papa’s wealth had bought her one of the best governesses. But that same wealth didn’t buy friends.

Her
London
season had been such a fiasco that none of the other girls wanted to be associated with her. There had been a few brave ones who tried to speak to her, but they were quickly shuffled off by mothers who didn’t want
Letty’s
hoydenish ways to soil their prospects.

The door opened wider and the girl stepped into the candlelit room. “I’ve brought you some things to wear.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m sorry it took me so long, but I had to make certain everyone was settled. The men are staying in the
outquarters
near the stables,” she said. Then in what seemed an afterthought, she added, “The earl is downstairs with Neil and my father. It’s my understanding that you won’t be leaving until sometime Monday. You’ll have time to rest.”

Letty
nodded.

“Here.” The girl stiffly held out the clothing.

Letty
took a step.

She tripped on the edge of the carpet and landed flat, facedown.

On impact, the candle flew from her hand. She looked up, horrified as hot wax and flames spilled across the beautifully polished wood floor.

The carpet fringe in front of her was on fire.

In a flash, the girl knelt beside her. She pulled
Letty
away from the carpet. “Are you all right?”

Still stunned,
Letty
nodded and rose to her knees.

Gus loped past her, barking at the flames.

The girl shot upright and grabbed the silk pillows of the nearby divan. “Here!” She tossed one to
Letty
and then quickly bent down and began to beat out the small fire.

Letty
was on her knees beside her, swatting as hard as she could, tears of embarrassment streaming from her eyes.

It only took a minute and the flames were gone. They both knelt on the carpet, panting a little, pillows resting in their hands. Gus ran in circles, his instincts still raw from the fire.

Letty
wiped her eyes and stared at the burned carpet, at the wax on the floor, then she slowly raised her head and saw the small cloud of smoke hovering above them.