Surrender The Night (24 page)

“Damn you!” he yelled. The cliffs behind the red brick, Georgian-style manor caught the words and flung them mock
ingly back to him.

The burst of fury faded as, for the first time in his life, he did feel damned. He’d lost the only woman who’d ever been more to him than a vessel. As to why . . . well, he couldn’t come to grips with that yet. Aye, he had much to condemn in himself, but acrimony was so bestial only when gorged upon hatred. What had he done to make her detest him so?

He dismounted and tied his horse to the front gate. He stumbled up the paved walkway, blind to the pretty spring flowers and carefully t
rimm
ed hedge. Only when he was almost upon him did he see Billy standing in the doorway eyeing him, concern etched upon his face.

“Did ye see her?”

“Aye.” Devon shouldered past him and shuffled into the tiny study, where a sideboard held crystal decanters sparkling in the late-afternoon sunlight.

Billy watched Devon pour a hefty draft of the best French brandy so readily, if ste
althily, available in Cornwall. Devon held the glass to the light and circled it from side to side. He brought the snifter to his lips, then paused.

With the feral snarl of a trapped animal he flung the snifter away. It shattered against the hardwood floor with a satisfying crash. “Hell’s teeth. I’ll forget you without benefit of sopo
rific.” Devon bent his head, his shoulders quivering with his effort to master himself. A few moments later he turned to Billy, only the hectic color burning in his cheeks evidencing his distress. “Billy, what say you to a night in Truro? Surely even in this godforsaken county they’ve some comely whores.”

“Whatever you want, Devvie lad. But do ye really think women and wine will help ye forget? Ye’ve already tried that once.”

“What else would you have me do? Your advice to wait a few days only firmed her resolve against me. I tried apologizing, charming, then threatening—”

“Did ye try asking?”

Devon’s open mouth snapped closed. He shrugged. “A man doesn’t ask with a woman like Katrina Lawson. She’s too strong-willed to respect a milksop.”

Billy shook his head. “Did it occur to ye that she respects
your
strength but wants a mite in return for
hers?”

Devon bent his head in consideration. The concept of a woman demanding respect was alien to him. In his experience women demanded admiration. Upon receiving it, they meekly accepted their inferior position to men in English society. He didn’t think Katrina was much different. Not really.

Yet . . . he’d used every wile he knew on her, in the past and today. Still she refused him. If she had really become affianced to a doctor, certainly avarice didn’t motivate her choice. Then what did? If that tiny little gold circle made such a difference to her feelings, why? Could it really be respect she craved?

Wearily, he said, “A mere man can never figure out the labyrinthine thought processes of a woman. And truth to tell, Billy, I no longer give a damn. She’s engaged to the good doctor, apparently.” When Billy frowned, Devon added sav
agely, “I wish them pure misery together!” Devon brushed back his loosened hair and flung Billy a reckless smile. “Are you coming with me to Truro or not?”

“I’ll follow ye to hell, and ye know it, Devvie lad.”

“Good intentions were taking me there rapidly, anyway, Billy. I might as well enjoy every step of the way.” Devon took Billy’s arm and marched with him to the door.

By the time Katrina came down for supper that night, only her red eyes betrayed hours of crying. The storm had passed, but now she felt becalmed. Numb. Had she not wanted to talk to Jimmy, she would have stayed in her room. But Jimmy was rarely home these days, and she’d seen him return a few minutes ago. Besides, she’d not upset Rachel any more. She must pretend to an acceptance she didn’t feel.

The minute she entered the kitchen, all eyes riveted on her, and she knew the entire family had heard of Devon’s visit. She nodded. “Good evening.” She took her usual seat next to Ellie, across from Jimmy.

“Broth again. How lovely.” The strong scent of the fish-head soup made her upset stomach chum, but she accepted a ladleful with a smile.

“And how are you this fine day?” John asked heartily.

“I will be fine, John. What happened today was for the best.” And that was all she intended to say on the subject. She looked around the table. “Where is Will? I thought he was coming for supper?”

“He . . . had an unexpected call to make,” Rachel an
swered. She took a sip of broth so quickly that she coughed.

Katrina looked down dully at her own soup. She hadn’t meant to hurt Will, but if he hadn’t interfered . . . What? Would she this moment be lying in Devon’s arms? Her head swam with longing, then fury at her own weakness. She should have thanked Will rather than reviled him. She dropped her spoon in her soup, not even feeling the hot spatter as several droplets struck her sleeve.

A gentle hand wiped at the stain. She forced a smile and turned her head. “Thank you, Ellie. I’m . . . feeling clumsy today.” She picked up her spoon and took a sip of soup. Robert was animatedly telling Jimmy about the chick he’d watched hatch. Jimmy nodded and sent his little brother an indulgent smile.

Katrina had often remarked the close relationship between the pair. Jimmy was relaxed and cheerful around Robert, as he was not around the other family members. If Robert came down with a sniffle, it was Jimmy who visited him most often, taking him clever toys he’d whittled. No young man who loved his brother so much was totally lost to decency, as John feared.

When both brothers turned their attention to their soup, Katrina said, “It’s good to see you, Jimmy.”

Dark eyes sliced a glance up at her, then back down. Jimmy didn’t reply.

“And it’s good to see you, too, Katrina,” Katrina mocked in a deep voice. This time those dark eyes lingered, but Katrina would rather have a glare than the indifference Jimmy usually treated her to. “We haven’t had a lesson in some time. How about tonight—”

“Nay. I’ve plans.”

“I see. Well, maybe tomorrow, then.” When no response came, Katrina’s tone grew sharp. “Jimmy, are you going to be happy spending the rest of your life roistering about or do you intend to make something of yourself?” She bit her lip after her outburst, throwing an apologetic look to John. Such talk, after all, was his right, not hers.

He sent her a wry shrug. “ ’Ee’ll get no desagreement from me, lass. Many’s the time I’ve said as much to hem.”

“And it’s sick I am of hearin’ it!” Jimmy pushed back his empty bowl and leaped to his feet. “And I don’t know why I come home, since this pap is all I get to eat.” He turned toward the door, but John leaned across and grasped Jimmy’s shirt.

Slowly,he stood, h
is face taking on the mottled hue of rage. “’Ee’ll not talk to your ma that waay. Nor your teacher, neither.”

“
She’s nothin’ but a lord’s whore who thinks herself too good for us common folk.”

John’s grip slackened, as if he couldn’t believe his ears. Rachel gasped and El
lie moaned in distress.

John broke the tension by stepping around the table to haul Jimmy to his toes. He clenched his fist and began to raise it, but Katrina leaped up and r
eached over the table to put her hand on his arm.

“No, John, don’t. He is, after all, right.” John hesitated, looking from his son’s white face to Katrina’s paler one. The women, too, stared.

Katrina was afraid to see their expressions, so she watched • the play of emotions on Jimmy’s face. Shock, satisfaction, then lust, out in the open for all to see.

She wanted to slink off to her room and hide, but she quelled the instinct. The truth was out at last. Maybe it was for the best. She lifted her chin and looked Jimmy squarely in the eye. “Yes, I was a . . . kept woman. For one month. If not against my will, against my judgment and my beliefs. And I’ve since paid dearly for every stolen hour.”

When John let his son go, Katrina walked around the table to grasp Jimmy’s shoulder. He smirked down at her. She gritted her teeth, but said calmly, “I’m determined not to repeat my past mistakes, however. I’ve done my best to make amends these past two years. Can you say the same, Jimmy Tonkin? What have you learned from this?” Lightly Katrina fingered a nasty bruise on his cheek, doubtless a legacy from his most recent taproom brawl.

He caught her hand and squeezed it. “I’ve learned much I’d like to show you.” John growled and took a step forward, but Rachel caught his arm.

“Let her put hem en hes place. She’s earned that right.”

Katrina heard her whispered aside, and Rachel’s faith bolstered the spirit that was weary of men’s lusts, though hungry for
their respect. “Would you know which fork to use for meat, which for dessert, at a lord’s table? Do you know where Cathay is? Or what the Magna Carta says, or can you recite any of Shakespeare’s sonnets?” When Jimmy scowled, Katrina shook her head in a manner that she intentionally made condescending. “Then you’ve little to offer me. You can ask your sister if women are drawn for very long to men who know little besides smuggling, drinking, and fighting.”

Jimmy brushed her hands away. “What makes you
think
I want more than a toss in the hay with you, woman?”

“I pray to God you don’t want even that, Jimmy. I offer you my friendship, and to share my knowledge. I’ve nothing else. For any man. But you are an attractive young fellow, and there are others who will find you so, if you change your wild ways.”

“There’s plenty who like me as I am!” Jimmy flung back, his proud young face outraged.

“Then seek them out. And see how long they satisfy you.”

With a distempered growl, Jimmy turned away. Katrina finally looked at Rachel and Ellie. The understanding in their eyes brought tears to her own. John patted her shoulder.

“Thanks for tryen’, lass. ’Ee maade a gallant effort, but I fear Jimmy’s beyond help.” His features tightened as he met his wife’s eyes. She put out a supplicating hand, but John bit off his next words, as if he found them as revolting as she did. “We’ve got no choice, Rachel. He don’t contribute none to thes household, so why should he be allowed to staay? He thenks hemself a man. Let hem act as one.”

Katrina shook her head wildly. “No, John. Not on my account.”

“Et would have come anywaay, lass. ’Ee only maade et happen sooner. Maayhaps ef he has to support hemself, he’ll learn the unportance of family.” John strode toward the door. Little Robert, who’d seemed confused by the interchange between Katrina and Jimmy, understood well enough where his father was going, apparently, for he jumped up, his round face crumpling.

“No, Da, don’t send him away!” he cried, running on his short legs to catch his father’s hand.

“Robert, ’ee don’t understand. Et’s for the best, lad.” John pulled gently away when Robert tried to cling to him.

Katrina couldn’t bear being the source of such conflict. She clasped John’s arm. “No, please, let me talk to him once more.”

“Et’ll do no good—”

“Let me try.”

John hesitated, then he indicated that she precede him. They caught up with Jimmy on the road to Truro. He whirled when his father called him.

Scowling, he snapped, “What did you bring her for?”

“We’ve both a mite to say to ’ee. She can go first.”

“I’d like to speak to him alone, John.” John looked confused, but he went several paces back toward the cottage. Katrina’s voice was low and urgent. “Do you know how little food there is in the cottage?”

“Stores is always low this time of year, ’fore the crops come in—”

“And where will the Tonkin share come from since you don’t help farm Carrington’s lands any longer?”

Jimmy was silent at that. ‘ ‘That was only a mite. We buys most of our meat and grain—”

“And do you know how little money your father’s making? With the condition of the mine and the lack of good ores, your father’s share is not likely to rise.”

“And what would you have me do, fancy woman?” He looked her up and down. “You could earn more money in a night than I do in a quarter.”

Katrina’s breath hissed through her teeth. By an extreme effort of will she kept herself from slapping him. “What of your share from smuggling?’ ’

Jimmy’s hobnail boot sent a pebble flying. “ ’Tis a pittance, since I only help them bring it ashore. Hasn’t been many runs lately, anyway. My share’s all spent.”

Katrina’s eyes closed in despair. What would they do? “Do you still want to belong to this family?”

“O’ course. You got no right to ask that.”

“Then you must contribute to it. Go back to Carrington and ask to help in the fields again.”

Jimmy groaned. “No, I hate it.”

Katrina made as if to turn away. “Then don’t be sad as you watch Robert starve.”

Jimmy reached out to grab her arm. When she pulled away, he gave a resigned shrug. “Durin’ the day, I guess. I’ll talk to J- er, the leader, and see if he’ll let me go across on the next run. I’d make a goodly sum in one night, then.”

Katrina sighed in relief, and when John impatiently strode up to see what was keeping them so long, she sent him a brilliant smile made even prettier in the radiant sunset. “Jimmy is going back to work for Lord Carrington, John. We’ll soon have his share of vegetables again.”

Katrina caught John’s tiny sigh of relief, even though he made a good job of disguising it with a scowl. “Ais, well, that’s somethen’. As long ’ee see the value of work, there’s hope for ’ee.” He stabbed his son’s shoulder with a stubby finger. “But ef ’ee ever talk to this
lady
again as ’ee ded today, ’ee’ll have to leve where such language es appreciated. Does ’ee understand?”

Jimmy looked a little shocked, but at his father’s stem look he snapped his mouth shut. He nodded. He looked between the cottage and Truro uncertainly.

“Come along home, Jemmy. Let’s tell tales as we haven’t en an age. ’Ee know how much Robert loves to have ’ee home,” John urged.

“Please do, Jimmy. I love those wild Cornish stories. I imagine you, with your flair for drama, can tell a grand one.” Katrina held her breath as she awaited Jimmy’s response.

He looked regretfully toward Truro once more, then he wheeled toward the cottage. John sent her a grateful wink, then strode to catch up with his son. Katrina’s glow of satisfaction grew warmer when they entered the house. Rachel and Ellie shed some relieved tears, but it was Robert’s cries of joy that misted Katrina’s eyes.

Rachel served up the last of her hoard of preserved pears for everyone while the others settled about the table. John had already started in about the knackers., “I’ve never seen them myself, but oh, the taales I’ve heard. Such wee lettle spirets they be. Some of the old ones saay they’re no begger than a sixpenny doll, yet look and dress like hearty old tinners. Good luck they can bring, since they’s nearly always seen near a new lode. And bad, if ’ee don’t leave them a crust.” John smiled down at Robert’s enchanted face, but he sent Katrina a sly wink.

She realized John was too devout a Methodist to believe in goblins, but he obviously still enjoyed the tales. “Have you any good ghost stories to tell?”

“Ais, there’s more than a months’ nights o’ callin’ I could relate.”

Jimmy took up the tale. He took a puff from his pipe, and through the mysterious blue wreath he intoned, “Like the one about Reverend Dodge of Talland who was good at exorcisin’ spirits. When the parson of Lanreath was pursued by a black coach and headless driver and horses. Dodge stepped in their way. The ghostly coachman shouted, ‘Dodge is come! I must be gone!’ and disappeared forthwith.”

Despite herself Katrina felt a chill creep up her spine at Jimmy’s sepulchral tone. “It’s a pity we can’t exorcise the evils in men so easily,” she couldn’t resist saying.

“You mean it’s a blessin’. You women would take all pleasure out of life for a man if you could,” Jimmy retorted.

John chuckled. Rachel, too, glared at her son. “Ais, but thenk of the pleasures denied us without the trials of women.” John cleared his throat when Rachel’s glare was turned on him. “And what of the one about the pellar of Tow? Ah, a fine witch was she, the seventh daughter of a seventh son—” And the tales went on, there in the cozy kitchen, with the wild Cornish winds blowing across the bare landscape.