Sea of Desire (5 page)

Merideth stared down at the array of papers
spread across the mahogany desk. She had spent the sennight since
her father’s funeral trying to make sense of them... trying to
figure out a way to save Banistar Hall. Not just for herself. One
conclusion she came to during the long night she grieved beside her
father’s body was that she cared little about the ancestral home.
It was her father who had prized it, though he’d spent little of
his time here until age and finances forced him to curtail his
travels.

Yet she couldn’t help wondering where she
would go... what she would do... without Banistar Hall.

Sighing, Merideth let a parchment note fall
from her fingers. Perhaps she could find a solution to her dilemma
if her concentration would stay focused. But like the parchment, it
slipped... often. And then she was looking into Jared Blackstone’s
sea-green eyes.
For your father’s sake, and yours, I don’t
believe you want the constable to know why I came here
. What
did he mean?

“Don’t be a fool. It was nothing more than a
ploy to save his murderous neck,” Merideth said to herself. “And it
won’t work.”

Because tomorrow he was to hang. For the
murder of Lord Alfred Banistar.

“ ‘Tis only just,” Merideth assured herself
as she started to read the document she picked up from the desk. If
there was a good reason for him to be here that night, Mr.
Blackstone would have mentioned it during the trial.

Oh, he had repeated his preposterous lie
about delivering gold to her father and someone stealing it. But no
one believed him. Especially when he could give no logical reason
why he would have money for Lord Alfred.

Merideth snorted. “Because there was no
gold.”

Jared’s entire defense was based on
half-truths and maybes. Dr. Foster couldn’t say for sure that the
wound on Mr. Blackstone’s head was from a pistol ball. But he
couldn’t say he was knocked over the head either.

“No, I couldn’t swear the cut wasn’t caused
by the defendant being hit with a sharp object,” Dr. Mason had
said. “But there
was
the spent pistol clutched in Lord
Alfred’s lifeless fingers. I’d say it likely his Lordship shot
wildly, grazing the defendant’s head,” the white-haired doctor
pronounced.

Jared Blackstone’s only response was to
vehemently insist he was hit from behind.

“Ridiculous lies,” Merideth mumbled, pushing
herself away from the desk. “Mr. Blackstone might as well have
confessed and saved everyone the aggravation.” Merideth walked to
the window and looked out over the heath to the cove. “At least he
didn’t mention his contention that someone wearing scarlet hit
him.”

During the trial Merideth had expected Jared
Blackstone to cast suspicion on her with his story of a
scarlet-clad assailant. But he hadn’t.

“He probably forgot he even made that up,”
Merideth said, then shook her head. “Now I’m talking to myself. Not
just talking but holding an entire conversation.”

In frustration she marched back to the desk
and sank into the chair. She reached for the locket hanging from
the ribbon around her neck. Her fingers closed over the smooth
gold.

“I have to find out,” she finally whispered.
“Oh, Papa, I have to find out what he meant.”

Her shoulders squared, Merideth stood. After
asking Mort to saddle her horse—one of the few her father hadn’t
sold off—Merideth went to her room to change into a riding
habit.

“I ain’t sure I should be doin’ this,” Lester
Hawson scratched his grizzled head and looked around the anteroom
to the jail as if the answer might lie in the stone walls.

“I shall take full responsibility,” Merideth
assured him. She was glad to find Lester, one of Samuals’s
deputies, on duty, rather than the constable himself.

“Still ain’t rightly sure. ‘Course, I can’t
ask the constable, since he went to Foxworth to visit his lady
friend. Usually makes the trip on Saturday, but weren’t ‘bout to do
it on the morrow. Not with the hangin’ set for then.”

“And by then it will be too late for me to
say what I must to your prisoner.”

“Now that’s for sure,” Les answered, with
enough enthusiasm in his voice for Merideth to know he looked
forward to tomorrow’s “festivities.”

“So, may I see Mr. Blackstone now?” Merideth
tried not to fidget, but Les still leaned against the door leading
to the cell, his bulky shoulders blocking the way.

“Well, I guess it won’t harm nothin’. You
ain’t plannin’ on shootin’ him or nothin’, are you? Wouldn’t want
to cheat the hangman?”

“No. I simply want to talk to him about
something.”

“Good luck to you.” Les shifted his weight.
“He ain’t the talkin’ kind. Hardly said two words since we locked
him up. Real unfriendly.”

Merideth paid no attention to Les’s harangue
as he fiddled with a large brass key. The heavy door swung open and
Les lead the way inside.

“I best stay here with you.”

“No!” Merideth paused. “I mean, that won’t be
necessary.” She couldn’t possibly find out what she wanted to know
with Les hovering about.

“But this man’s a killer. I can’t let
you—”

“I said I shall take responsibility. Besides,
he has no weapon and you do. If there’s a problem, I shall simply
call out.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Nothing will happen.”

Jared lay on the cot, staring at the
cobwebbed ceiling, his head cradled on his crossed arms. He was
listening to Lady Merideth plead her case with the jailer. At this
point he didn’t much care which of them won. He probably should,
but hell, he was going to hang tomorrow.

“Do I have your word you won’t do nothing to
her Ladyship?”

Jared twisted his attention away from the
spider crawling across the beam when he realized the deputy was
talking to him. “But of course,” he responded in his most sarcastic
tone. What the hell did the man think, that a killer would keep his
word?

But apparently the subtlety was lost on the
jailer, for he grunted his approval and backed out of the cell.

Lady Merideth seemed less assured. She
remained by the door. But she stood her ground. Jared watched her,
his lids partially lowered, and had to admire her courage. That is,
he would have if he thought she believed him a murderer. He doubted
she did, because he wasn’t so sure she didn’t know who the real
killer was.

Merideth cleared her throat. “I... I came to
ask you a question.”

“And here I thought this a social call.”
Jared stretched and crossed his booted ankles.

“You needn’t be so... so...”

“So
rude
?” Jared cocked a raven brow.
“Is that the word your
Ladyship
is searching for?”

“Actually, I was thinking more along the
lines of ‘barbaric.” But then that’s all one can expect from
colonials, isn’t it?”

For someone with the face of an angel, she
could look pretty haughty when she raised her chin a certain way.
Jared came close to smiling at the picture she made. Then he
remembered his circumstances, and all traces of mirth left his
face.

“What is it you want? I’m somewhat busy, and
time
is
running out.”

“You don’t look occupied to me.” Merideth
took a step forward, away from the security of the door. Though it
was midmorning, the light inside the cell was dim, filtered through
the narrow bar-covered window. She brushed her hands down the
deep-blue skirt of her riding habit.

“Perhaps I’m contemplating my life,” Jared
said, his tone bored, his gaze once again focused on the process of
the busy spider.

“I thought maybe you were begging God’s
forgiveness.”

That
got his attention. Merideth
nearly flinched at the look he shot her. His green eyes were dark
and intense, bright with barely controlled violence. Merideth
swallowed, wondering anew about the prudence of coming here.

Damn the woman. When he first saw her in the
cell doorway, he felt... what? Relief? Hardly. But a fissure of
comfort. At least he wasn’t going to go to his death without
talking to anyone but the surly constable and his dim-witted deputy
and the foul-smelling cleric. A beautiful woman was certainly
preferable to either of them. And Merideth Banistar was undeniably
beautiful.

But hell, he didn’t need this. He was going
to hang tomorrow. For a murder he didn’t commit. And he was busy.
Trying to decide how he’d let this happen to himself.

Jared shifted, then settled more comfortably
on the hard cot. The spider had made some progress since he’d
looked away. Industrious little thing.

He was ignoring her, hoping she’d go away.
Merideth knew it. But she hadn’t come here to leave without an
answer. She moved closer to the cot. It was too short for him, and
Merideth noticed his boots stuck out over the end. “Why did you
come to Banistar Hall? What was your business with my father? And
don’t tell me to ask him, because thanks to you he’s dead.”

“You can drop the pretense of ignorance. I
know you’re privy to the information. Lord Alfred told me before he
was shot.”

“What information?”

Lady Merideth stood over him now, forcing him
to look at her, blocking his view of the spider. A shaft of
sunlight hit her golden hair and for a moment Jared forgot
everything but the desire to pull her down on top of him. That
would certainly be a nice treat for the condemned man. But he
didn’t think anyone else would agree... especially Lady Merideth.
Her mouth was pressed into a straight line.

Jared shrugged his shoulders. “You needn’t
worry. I’ve decided to take the Banistar secret with me to the
grave.” Actually, he’d decided it would do him no good to confess
Lord Alfred’s treason or his daughter’s involvement. Most likely no
one would believe him. And even if they did, he’d still hang as a
spy. Was it better to die as a spy rather than a murderer? He
hadn’t been able to come to any conclusion on that, so he’d decided
to say nothing.

Lady Merideth still had the information the
Americans wanted. This way she could contact someone else and make
the trade. So in a sense it was damn heroic of him to keep quiet.
Now, if she’d just go away and let him dwell on that for a
while...

“What are you talking about? What secret? I
want to—”

Merideth sucked in her breath, stifling the
scream. She had never seen anyone move so fast. One minute he was
prone, seemingly ignoring her presence, the next he was on his
feet, looming over her, backing her against the damp cell wall. His
hard thighs pressed against her; his chest was only a deep breath
away.

“Don’t play games with me.” Jared’s words
were gritted through clenched teeth. “Your father told me you had
the name. You’re involved in this treason just as much as he
was.”

“Treason?” Her voice was hardly more than a
whisper.

Jared’s brow arched. “You really should
consider the stage. You certainly have the looks for it.” His gaze
dropped insolently from her face to the rise and fall of her
jacket-covered breasts. “And you
can
act.”

“Get away from me.” She gave his chest a
shove with the heel of her hand, surprised when he moved. “I don’t
know what you’re talking about. And I don’t believe for one minute
my father was involved in treason.” As she watched he merely
shrugged, as if he didn’t care whether she doubted him or not. He
moved to the small window, the violence seemingly drained from his
big body.

She felt dismissed.

“You’re simply saying that to save yourself.”
Merideth marched over toward him. “But it won’t work. No one will
believe such a ridiculous lie.” Certainly her father’s reputation
hadn’t sunk that low. “I imagine the constable laughed in your face
when you—”

“I haven’t told anyone. And I just assured
you I wouldn’t.”

His eyes held hers, and for a moment—one
irrational moment—Merideth found herself lulled by his voice into
believing him. Her breathing stopped, and she could feel the
pounding of her heart.