Rexanne Becnel (28 page)

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Authors: Heart of the Storm

BOOK: Rexanne Becnel
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When she fell, however, it was not onto the hard edge of one of the seats, but against the solid form of a man sitting on that seat.
Cyprian!
“C
yprian.”
Eliza was hardly aware she’d uttered a word. All she knew was that it was him. No doubt clouded her mind at all. The hand on her waist was his. The impossibly hard thigh beneath her hand as she tried to push upright was his. The warmth that threatened to envelop her was his. Oh, but it was most assuredly Cyprian Dare.
Once she was on her feet, however, he shoved her unceremoniously into the seat behind her. Then he barked out a sharp command.
“Drive!”
The carriage jerked forward again and Eliza nearly slid off the leather bench seat. Between peering avidly at Cyprian’s shadowed form and trying to keep her seat, she was completely discombobulated. But when it seemed he did not intend to speak again, a feeling of dread crept up her spine in cold, little shivers.
“Where … where is Aubrey?”
“The last time I saw him he was on board my ship.”
He sounded furious. But why? Because she was the one who’d come? Could that be it?
“And where is the
Chameleon?”
she persisted, for it was far easier to discuss Aubrey than their own peculiar circumstances.
“Somewhere at sea, I’d guess.”
“At sea? But you were to bring him here in exchange for the ransom. Here!” She shoved the heavy satchel at him. “Here’s your money. Now give me my cousin!”
She heard him shift in his seat, and stow the heavy satchel to the side. He drew back one of the window shades and in the meager light it afforded, she saw the glint of his eyes and the flash of his teeth. Then she felt the undeniable touch of his gaze upon her.
“Aubrey is nearby, Eliza. We came on another of my ships—lest your uncle have the authorities detain the
Chameleon.
You and Oliver have no doubt given him all the information he needs to find both my home and my ship.”
Guilt stung her, for there was a certain truth to his words. Still, if he hadn’t kidnapped Aubrey, no one would be searching for him or his ship.
“My uncle has not involved the authorities. But he has sent men of his own.”
“No authorities?” She heard the amusement in his voice. “Was that your father’s idea, perhaps? To protect you from the scandal that would surely ensue should it become public knowledge that you’d been several weeks in the company of a band of sailors—and unchaparoned at that?”
“I don’t know,” Eliza muttered, though she suspected as much. “They have not involved me in their planning.”
“Really. Then how is it that
you
carry the ransom money, and not one of the men of the family?”
How, indeed.
What had she foolishly thought to accomplish by such a bold act? Faced now with his cold questioning, it seemed she’d invented a depth of feeling between them that was entirely one-sided.
Eliza clutched the door post when they hit a nasty rut. “Why did you send your ransom message to me instead of to my uncle?” she countered.
“I didn’t—” He broke off, but Eliza was not left in
confusion for long. “Xavier.” He laughed, a hollow, mirthless sound that killed what little was left of her hope.
Xavier with his infernal matchmaking had been the one to send the messenger to her. Not Cyprian. How foolish of her to misread the situation. But then Xavier had also misjudged his man, for Cyprian was obviously not interested in her anymore.
“So, did he also change the content of the message to say
you
must deliver the money?”
Eliza wanted to lie. She wanted to say that she’d only come because she’d thought she had to in order to secure Aubrey’s freedom. But she couldn’t, and as the silence stretched out, revealing the shameful truth, she heard Cyprian sigh.
“How did you convince them to let you do it?”
Eliza swallowed hard and stared down at her hands. “I … I told them you demanded it. That it was the only way you’d agree … .”
He digested that for a moment. “What about the messenger?”
“He … um … he had whispered the message to me and I … well, I just changed it that little bit. He was kind enough not to make a liar of me.”
“I see.”
No doubt he did, Eliza thought miserably. He saw a foolish young woman flinging herself at him—and he was not in the least interested. At least not any longer. He’d had what he wanted of her—but he was hardly willing to give her what
she
wanted of
him.
A sob rose in her throat but she ruthlessly forced it down. No tears for him—especially not in front of him.
His fingers drummed a tuneless rhythm on the door post. “So, how has your fiancé taken all this? Or has your father been able to keep your … adventure a secret from him also?”
His cavalier words propelled her from sorrow to utter
fury. “Michael has been an integral part of the search for Aubrey and me. From the very beginning—”
“So he still intends to marry you,” he broke in. “I must say, he rises in my estimation, Eliza.”
“Rises in
your
estimation? Don’t you dare patronize him or me, Cyprian Dare. Michael Johnstone is ten times the man you are! At least he offered to marry me, whereas you—”
“He offered. Didn’t you accept?”
Eliza snapped her mouth closed. She didn’t want to tell him anything else. But he moved across the small space to sit beside her, then caught her chin in his hand.
“Tell me, Eliza, has a date been set? Have you agreed to marry him, or not?”
She tried to turn away from his piercing eyes. Truly she did. But he was too strong to fight off, and anyway, his gaze had captured hers and would not release it.
“You turned him down,” he whispered, surprise evident in his tone. “You turned him down, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” she admitted in a small voice.
“But why?” Then his grip on her chin tightened. “Are you with child?”
“No!” This time she broke his mesmerizing hold on her. And yet in the carriage there was no place to flee. Though it was a foolish gesture, she scooted across to the facing seat and shrank back into the corner farthest from Cyprian.
To her relief he remained where he was, though his watchful gaze was nearly as unnerving as his touch. “You’re not with child,” he mused. “So why did you come when there was no need? Why did you lie to your father and uncle?”
Eliza tried to control her runaway emotions. How was she to answer that? Certainly not with the truth.
“I … I wanted to see Aubrey. To make sure you didn’t renege on your deal,” she added more belligerently.
“I see. And what if that was my plan all along, to take Haberton’s money and keep his son just the same? What could you possibly do to prevent it?”
“I don’t suppose appealing to your honorable side would do, Would it? For clearly you possess none,” she spat.
He laughed then, a full, hearty laugh that was more welcome to her ears than manna to a starving man. It warmed a cold, shrivelled part of her heart even as it drove a dagger through it, for he was laughing at her, not with her. The two were a world apart.
“I suppose, Eliza, that to a protected English miss like yourself, I could not possibly possess a shred of honor. But in the society I inhabit, honor is a double-edged sword. There is honor to be had in noble gestures, very like your Michael’s offer to marry you despite the ruin I brought up on you. But there is also honor in vengeance, in righting a wrong left too long untended. I see my revenge against your uncle as honorable though I doubt you could ever understand that.” A change in the coach’s motion stopped him. “Ah, we have arrived.”
The carriage had slowed, then turned. The muffled thud of the horses’ hooves turned to a clatter on the paved surface of a small courtyard. Eliza had no time to argue with Cyprian, to convince him that she did understand about him and his father. The metal-rimmed carriage wheels added their noise to the arrival, and in a moment the side door was opened, the step had been lowered, and Cyprian alighted.
He did not help her down, but left that task to a beaming Xavier. But Xavier’s welcome face fell into a confused frown when Cyprian strode away and Eliza remained silent in the depths of the carriage.
“Come. Come, Eliza.” He reached a hand to her, urging her out. Once removed from the carriage, Eliza struggled for composure. “The … the coins—they’re
inside,” she whispered, watching Cyprian disappear into a neat two-storied stone house.
Xavier hefted the bulky satchel then took her arm and steered her after Cyprian. “He doesn’t care about the money. He cares about you. I’m so glad to see that you came.”
“No, Xavier, this has got to end. He doesn’t care about me, no matter how much you or I want him to. He doesn’t care.”
“So you
do
want him to care.”
Eliza threw her hands up and let out a muffled cry of despair. “So what if I do!”
“Then tell him,” the huge African said. He smiled at her so sweetly that Eliza could not doubt he believed that such a simple declaration by her would solve everything. He loved his Ana so much that he believed his own domestic tranquility could be achieved by others just as easily. If only it could be so.
“What have you to lose?” he continued, as if he knew all the doubts that plagued her mind.
“My pride. My self-esteem,” Eliza answered morosely. Then her tone turned bitter. “No, I’ve already lost those just by coming here. I give you credit, Xavier. You certainly predicted my reaction, didn’t you? Too bad you couldn’t have foreseen his more accurately.”
“Ah, Eliza,” Xavier chided her. “You fought more strenuously for Aubrey than you are now fighting for yourself—for yourself and for Cyprian.”
Eliza stared resentfully at him. Was that true? She didn’t want to know. “Where is Aubrey, anyway?”
After a long steady look that made her glance uncomfortably away, he shook his head, then gestured toward the house.
Aubrey’s laughter led her to him. He and Ana were playing a board game before a merry blaze in a cozy parlor. At the rush of cold air they both looked up, then with a glad cry the boy leaped up and flew to her.
“Eliza!” He flung his arms around her. “Eliza! You didn’t tell me she was coming,” he accused, craning his neck to look at someone behind her.
“I didn’t know she was.” Cyprian’s voice so nearby sent Eliza spinning around, flustered anew.
“Come, Ana,” Xavier interjected. “I’ll help you in the kitchen.” Without giving Eliza time to protest, the pair disappeared, leaving Eliza staring at Cyprian, with her happy cousin the only buffer between them.
“Why didn’t you send word you were coming?” Aubrey turned his question upon her.
“I didn’t know where you were.” She combed her fingers through his shaggy curls and tried to ignore Cyprian’s unnerving presence. “You look very well.”
“Oh, I am.” He disentangled himself from her embrace. “My limp’s improving. Slowly,” he admitted. “But I can tell.”
She watched him show off the growing strength of his injured leg. His parents had missed him so much. But having him return to them so much better might make everything they’d suffered seem worthwhile, in the long run.
“I’ve come to take you home,” she blurted out.
Aubrey stopped his antics and his face grew serious. “I thought that was probably the case.” He glanced at Cyprian. “Did Father send a ransom, then?”
Cyprian nodded and stepped nearer to Eliza. “May I take your cloak?”
She backed up, hugging the heavy garment to her as though it afforded some sort of defense against him. “There’s no reason for us to linger. We can return to Lyme Regis in the carriage now.”
He took a step closer. She stepped back. “It’s a long, cold ride. Surely you’ll want a bowl of Ana’s vegetable soup and freshly baked bread first.”
Eliza shook her head. “No, I wouldn’t.”
“Well, Aubrey would. Right, Aubrey?”
“Well …” The boy hesitated, switching his curious gaze back and forth between the two adults. “Actually, I am hungry—”
“Don’t try to force Aubrey into the middle of this,” Eliza demanded.
“He’s already in the middle,” he replied so calmly she wanted to scream.
“Only because you’re so consumed with revenge,” she accused. All her heartache—all her fear and doubt and yearning—knotted inside her, knotted and seethed, then bubbled uncontrollably to the surface. “Only because you think to hurt your father through Aubrey! But Uncle Lloyd never knew about you. He never knew she bore him a son—”
“Is that supposed to exonerate him, that he gave her the money to be rid of me?”
Before she could respond she felt a tug on her arm. “I … I don’t understand,” Aubrey whispered. At once Eliza realized what they’d revealed. She stared at him, wide-eyed and sorry for her hasty words. But she knew from the boy’s expression that it was too late. They’d said too much.

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