Rescuing Mr. Gracey (36 page)

His lip pulled toward his nose as if he smelled refuse. “Instead, I am stunned to find a man playing in the slums, devoid of all common sense, cavorting with none other than an Irish Papist washerwoman pretending to be something she is not.”

Alec’s back hardened like solid stone; his tone devolved to a growl. “We were never friends, and if you fail to show respect to the lady, you will no longer be my advisor either.”

With an exaggerated flourish, James bowed. “Never let it be said that I would insult such a class of people.”

Mary shivered. Sweat trickled down her neck as the urge to run far, far away almost overwhelmed her crawling flesh.

“Your father could not stop talking of a remarkable woman come to heal you with herbs and potions and stunning beauty.” Mr. James barked a harsh laugh that lacked any humor. “However, I must be mistaken, for he thought the lass a lady.” His expression grew dark. “Imagine his surprise when he discovers she is a filthy washerwoman from Dolly’s Brae.”

A terrifying roar cracked the air. Alec leaped forward and yanked the short man from his horse. The redhead covered his face, helpless to defend himself as Alec dragged him yards away. Now only muffled, angry shouts bumped back and forth, each opponent throwing curses along with wildly flung gestures.

This fat, insulting man—a vivid reminder, an exclamation point of their deceit—had effectively punctured their make-believe world with his crudity, but he was a small drop of what they would face should her love for Alec…his love for her be discovered by a wrathful nation.

Drenched with shame, her heart’s horrified beat exploding from her chest, Mary bit down hard upon her lip. The world of lies and deceit had finally caught them. Her secrets, Alec’s secrets, Mrs. Gracey’s secrets twisted together and bound them into a torturous trap. Squeezed by a collapsing hope, Mary stumbled toward the black horse.

Would Ringo allow her to mount and gallop to Dolly’s Brae where a tiny hut waited to hide her forever, where the world held its breath for her return where she belonged?

“Have you forgotten? The Smyths’ field will now burn,” she heard Mr. James shout.

Whipping about, Mary clutched her stomach.
What did he say…what? Lord in heaven, what did he say?

Alec twisted toward her, his face a mirror of tortured guilt. He shoved the fat man and made a rumbling sound of frustration. “Leave. Now.” Hands knotted to large fists, he shouted, “If you value your life, stay silent, or so help me God, I will make it my mission that you die in debtors’ prison.”

The man called Bender flushed an odd purplish color before he paled. First, he backed away, then he awkwardly mounted his horse. “I’m done with you, bitch,” he snarled, waving a fist. “Before the sun sets, you will be gone, or your father will suffer.”

“Now,” Alec roared. Jaw pulsing, he waited until Bender rode away, then turned back toward her. “Mary…” For the first time in memory, he did not appear calm, controlled. Instead, his eyes darted with a panicked frenzy, his mouth twisted with anguish. “Mary. I had it all negotiated.”

Her insides seemed as hollow as the empty jars that lined her kitchen shelves. With each step he took forward, she backed up. He was the enemy now, full and truly. She must get away and warn her father.

“Mary, my father agreed to…please.”

Emotion pulled her in chaotic directions. She must not let him touch her. She must not let his seductive talent, his political skill at manipulation, strip her of clear thought. Her family’s safety depended on her slamming this door forever.

His hands stretched toward her, then dropped. He weaved his hand through his hair and closed his eyes. His voice wobbled. “Last month, my father received…” He hung his head. She heard him swallow. “An anonymous letter informing my father of our relationship. The person also knew about the flax field…and the job for Patrick.” He shook his head. “Clearly, I have an enemy bent on destroying me and perhaps you.”

His pleading eyes lifted and caught her. “You need to understand, the Orange planned to march into Dolly’s Brae this year long before we met.” Alec’s face paled. His breathing became ragged. “Your father was a target because of his role last year.”

Ugly storm clouds trapped her inside a vortex of suffocating dark. “No… No.” Mary covered her ears and shook her head fiercely. A frenzied disbelief numbed her mind; furious abhorrence deafened her ears. “Why? Why did you allow me to live here all this time? I could have been gone a week ago. I must go to help with the harvest.”

Somehow, he embraced her, his warm arms pressing her into him.

“No. No…” She bucked, twisted. His arms dropped. She beat his chest, horrified that his world threatened hers, terrified that, in a moment, he would never again be a part of her life. “I hate you. I loathe the day I met you. Take me back…”

“Listen, please.” She did not recognize his strained voice.

Mary heard herself sobbing, knew tears flowed from her eyes. Shock draped her like a black cloak, a nightmare of illusion.

His shaky fingers combed through his hair. He paced in tight circles. “My father will protect your family from the marching season. He believes I have broken with a native girl and does not suspect you are one and the same.” Alec cleared his throat, then cleared it again. “He cares for you…for who you are, not what you believe. If I am elected, I may influence the nation’s attitude regarding mixed marriage.”

“Don’t ya see the danger you’ve placed upon me family? ’Twill bring the wrath of the Orange to our door.” Heaving in air, she wrapped her arms about her waist and paced to the lake’s edge. Calmer. She must be calmer. Think. She must think. “Take me home. I need to pack and leave today.”

“Believe me, if I thought you were in danger, I would be the first to take you from my home. Bender is a hot-tempered man, but very self-serving and greedy. Once I give him a hefty purse, he will not be any threat.”

“No.”

Alec approached from behind. “He can be bought, Mary.” He coughed. She knew this was too much stress on his recovering health, but right now, she must see to her own family. “Stay a few days more. I need time to think through a plan.” His breathing became heavy, as if he could not draw air. “I need you. I want you as my wife, Mary.”

Don’t listen, Mary Smyth.
Her mind stilled; her heart paused. Everything became clear—crystalline and focused. Alec Gracey, magnificent man, beautiful temptation, was forbidden fruit. She turned and let her gaze linger on him. His blue eyes, hopeful, desperate, locked on her. “Please, Mary. I love you.”

At that moment, she knew what she must do, how the story must progress. She knew the end. Exhausted, she sighed. “Very well.”

~ 34 ~

“Come, join our Orange heroes…”

Lightning shot through the threatening black clouds, and the wind howled, forcing Alec’s dark thoughts to the present. Compared to Mary’s icy demeanor, her silence, the onslaught of stormy weather seemed a comforting prospect.

Now that they had arrived back at the manor’s doorstep, a sort of panic tightened his stomach. Mary shifted in the saddle in front of him, keeping a careful distance from him. He refused to help her down or release his supporting arm on her waist. To do so would mean she could retreat to her room. How to shatter the barrier and melt her Irish heart, especially after the terrible battering it had received today?

What could he say? How could he explain? Before this year, he’d never paid attention to marching seasons. He’d never considered the impact of his agreement with the earl on the natives. He’d never dreamed he would fall in love with a laundress. And now that careless disregard for his actions could strip away all that he loved.

Wearily, Alec shuttered his eyes. Drifts of her scent—rose and forest—compelled him to lean toward her. He forced his hands to remain still as he visualized locking her to his chest, snuggling his nose into her soft cinnamon hair, kissing her ear, and whispering sweet, intimate longings…

Ringo lifted a restless leg and stomped it down again, obvious to his master’s distress, impatient for oats. Seconds later, colliding clouds crashed above, seeming to match the damage to his frightened heart.

Mary startled at the boom, her hand clutching the pommel as if she feared Ringo would bolt. Forced to relent, Alec swung from his horse and lifted her easily to the ground.

She lifted her jaw but refused to meet his eyes. So proud. So wounded. So strong…

A stable hand retrieved Ringo as lightning streaked once more. Mary flicked a quick glance toward him, then tried to retreat inside.

Refusing to release her until he had some agreement, he clamped his hand on her arm. “Mary…”

Her gaze swung up and swept his face. Her chin tilted, her brow quirked, her eyes narrowed. His guilt burrowed deeper when he saw her lip quiver and her aqua eyes fill with pools of water. His heart clenched. The emotion painted upon her face’s fragile canvas accused him of betrayal and deceit.

His hand dropped, his tortured soul cracked, making an internal boom that rivaled the thunder above. He wanted to raise his fists and challenge every force that destroyed his hope, threatened her life. “Mary, we need to talk,” he said to her retreating back.

He wondered if she even heard him. When she reached the door, without glancing back, she said in a flat imitation of the woman he loved, “I need to rest.”

He took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. He hated Bender. He wanted to thrash him all the way to England. But he would lick the man’s boots to protect his secret from his father. “Will you meet me in the library?”

She did not answer.

“Two hours, Mary—meet me in the library.”

His heart thudded to his stomach.
She won’t come
, he thought. He hung his head, defeated.
Release her. Let her go. Send her away with some money and good wishes and encourage her to wed the stupid farmer.

Rain pounded his head like punishing hammers. His body ached, but his legs seemed numb. The water melted the road into a muddy mess, like his life.

Lightning boomed again.
You’re not quitting, Gracey. Get yourself inside. Make a plan. Get her back.

Thoroughly drenched, every muscle aching with exhaustion, he sloughed upstairs, where his valet poured a hot bath. His mind seemed stringy, like a web too broken to catch anything worthwhile. He became automated, his movements reacting to decades of being serviced, dressed, and groomed.

Alec checked his finished appearance. His mouth a grim line, he pondered the distasteful thought of encountering Bender. He must. For Mary’s sake, he needed to ensure she was protected from that slime.

Wiping gloom from his expression, he replaced it with indignation and authority. He forced his clenched hands to relax. He instructed his legs to walk with long strides toward the advisor’s room.

Beyond the dark oak door, a slimy man who possessed too much power over Alec’s life would pull out every card.
Be strong, demanding, and coy.
Sweat gathered at Alec’s forehead. He tapped on the door.

Never had his talent for pretense been so strained. His battered heart pounded in his ears; his hands were moist. Rolling between terror and rage, Alec flung open the door. The room was empty.

Anxiety doubled. Had Bender rushed to the earl with news about Mary?

No. Bender needs you.
Revealing the secret would risk Alec’s participation in the election and eliminate Bender from the earl’s promised reward. Exhaling a shaky breath, Alec strode to the writing table. He picked up a blank sheet of paper, and his hand flew across the page with rapid, decisive language.

Should you reveal anything regarding Mary, you will regret the day you were born. Should you stay quiet, your purse will fatten and you will maintain your position.

Alec reread the note, then placed it strategically on Bender’s desk. Just as he turned, his eye caught sight of a stack of papers. One note had his name written on it. Nudging it into view, Alec scanned the words, stunned.

Shaken, he swiped his hand across his eyes. What did this mean? How should he use it? Slipping the note back where he found it, Alec frowned with confusion.

He tapped his own note, and then, lifting it from the desk, he crossed the room and propped it on Bender’s pillow. Now his steps, hurried and decisive, rushed from the room and down the long circular staircase. He entered the large library.

The storm outside had calmed to a light drizzle, but his own personal hurricane intensified. Alec poured a tumbler of whiskey and downed the contents, frustrated, frightened. Just as he’d suspected, someone was deliberately targeting Mary. But who, and why?

What the hell are you going to do, Gracey?
He needed time. Time to convince Mary that he would cherish her, time to win the election, time to dismantle his enemy’s plans.

Something rustled behind him. He swung about, his heart tripping like a clumsy toddler. She stood there, just outside the door, light shining about her small frame like a luminous star.

She came.

Praise the Lord for the miracle…one last fragment of opportunity.

Like a silly fool, he was sure he gave her a goofy smile. She smiled in return and released the softest sigh. Carefully, slowly, he stretched his hand toward her and closed the distance between them.