The Dream (29 page)

“You mean others fear him?”

God, did they ever.

“Let’s just say, people either steer clear of
Ravensworth
or they seek out his friendship.”

She shook her head. “But why? He’s the kindest man I know.”

“Yes, he is. Some might even use that kindness for their own means.” Her eyes flashed in anger. “Not you, that’s not what I meant.”

“Who fears my husband?” She took a breath. “Who fears Jason?”

“I don’t think you really want an answer to that, my dear. Suffice it to say, enough do that no one dare harm anything that Jason considers his.” He lifted his cup to her. “And you, Emily, Jason most definitely considers his.”

“No one ever goes against him?” she asked, frowning.

Nick shrugged. “Depends.”

“He’s that powerful then?”

Nick saw Jason in the doorway. “My dear, Jason is powerful enough that all he’d have to do is put the word out that a deranged man is threatening your life and the life of his daughter.”

“And?” she asked.

Jason glared at him, Rayne followed, carrying Joy on one shoulder. Jason said, “And the man will cease to exist within a very short amount of time.”

She whirled around.

Emily almost tripped, her foot caught in her robe. She grabbed the back of the chair to keep from pitching to the floor.

Something told her they were not joking, that they were indeed, dead serious.

Jason’s words, months before drifted back to her.

“…I could tell you that I almost wish your husband were still alive so that I could kill him with my bare hands. Slowly.”

She whispered, “You mean that.”

“But, I have a feeling you really don’t want to hear or see how serious I can be about some things.”

“But, but…”

He cocked one brow over cold, sharp eyes. “Yes?”

She looked from him to Joy settled asleep on Rayne’s shoulder. They were all that were important to her. No matter the price, she would not allow them to be hurt in any way.

“But what about the scandal?” she asked. “If anyone finds out… Joy would be hurt, you would be cut, no one would—”

Jason only stared at her. “Emily, you’re fretting and I distinctly remember the doctor telling you not to worry.” He waved his hand at her and she realized what he held.

The whip.

She swallowed and took an ingrained step back.

The feel of it snapped through her memories, branding her thoughts. Jason’s voice sounded down the tunnel of her past.

“You should have told me about the bloody notes the bastard sent you. Where are they?” he asked, walking toward her.

Emily looked at what he held. “Please, put that down.”

He stopped, looked at her, then what he held. “Christ, Emmy, I’d never… You don’t think—“

“Of course not.” Her eyes jerked back to his at the utter disbelief in his voice. His eyes were narrowed, his brow furrowed. She sighed. “No, Jason. I just-I just don’t like it. I know that’s stupid and cowardly, but the sight of it makes me ill.”

He took a deep breath, and tossed the leather away without even looking at it. She watched it land on the rug by the curtain, uncoil and lay as though it were a wicked adder just waiting to bite.

“Emmy.”

She tore her eyes from the whip and looked at him.

“Emmy, sit down.” He propped his hands on his hips, his fingers drumming on his hip bones. “Please.”

Even angry, the man was so proper. From somewhere through the turmoil of this night, she wanted to grin.

Instead, knowing Jason would think her losing what grasp she held on reality, she simply sat. “Yes, my lord?”

She watched as Rayne settled Joy on the sofa and covered her with a small blanket. Why had they brought her down here? Emily didn’t want her overhearing anything. She frowned.

“I want you both where I can see you,” Jason said.

Her scarred knight, her vengeful warrior, her dream come true stood there glaring at her.

“I love you,” she said.

He cocked a brow. “Madam, your love is not the issue here. The question is why I wasn’t informed when the first damn note arrived.” He walked to her, a panther stalking its prey. “Now, where are the blasted missives?”

She pointed to the desk. “You dropped them earlier.”

He looked over his shoulder, then reached over and snatched them off his desk. She knew what he would read. The words that would glare up at him.

As he read, she watched as his face hardened even more. The skin tightening across his cheekbones, the tense lines around his mouth. When angry, his scar stood out. It did now, a pale contrast twitching in his tanned cheek. One note became the second, then the third.

“Damn the man,” he muttered.

His gaze rose to hers and the fury roiling in the blue depths of his eyes reminded her of the storm spitting ocean. Lightning and thunder, wind and water, the rage of nature. His was the rage of a man.

They held each other’s gaze, until finally, Emily dropped her eyes to her lap. She scraped the stitches of her belt with her fingernail. Licking her lips, she wondered what to say.

“What is Leviticus 20:10?” he asked.

Emily looked up. “What?”

“Leviticus 20:10?”

She shuffled through her memories of hours reading God’s Word, and clarity came. “If a man commits adultery with another man’s wife, the two shall be put to death.”

Why did he ask her that?

His jaw moved out then back as he ground his teeth. His eyes narrowed on her. “You are not the only one to receive mysterious notes.”

He handed her a single sheet of foolscap. She read the words on it, then looked up to him.

She started to ask him why he didn’t say anything, but smartly managed to keep the hypocritical question behind her teeth.

An
unamused
smiled lifted one corner of his mouth. “Not going to ask?”

Emily sighed and leaned back. “What are we going to do, Jason?”

Someone cleared their throat and she looked over to her uncle and
Nickolas
.

Nickolas
shook his head. “I don’t think we need to worry who sent what when. This matter is one easily handled.”

She rolled her eyes. “Your way to end it is not exactly ethical is it?”

Nickolas
tried to look wounded, with a frown and droopy eyes, but it failed, only looking comical on him. “That does hurt. Indeed it does. I’m the epitome of ethics.”

Rayne muttered something under his breath that she didn’t catch.

“You,”
Nickolas
said, walking to her, “are the Marchioness of
Ravensworth
. Your husband has many enemies, and what better way to get back at him than to hurt his family?” His eyes narrowed and shadows moved in them. Shadows she’d seen in this man before. “A man will do
anything
to protect his family from harm.”

Emily didn’t understand what they were trying to say. One thing stuck in her mind. “But I’m not. Don’t you see? I’m not really the Marchioness of
Ravensworth
.”

Jason shook his head. “No one outside the four of us knows this. And you are the only one here who could recognize Mr. Smith.” His gaze locked to her and he walked to her, leaning down, trapping her between the chair and him. His hands rested on either side of her on the chair’s arms. “Is there anything else, madam
wife
that you’ve neglected to inform me of?”

God, she loved this man.

She smiled. “Not that I can recall at the moment, but give me time, and I’m sure I can come up with something.”

He did not smile.

She laid her hand on the side of his face. “I was going to tell you. I just didn’t know how, and I’d hoped it was some mean-spirited prank.”

His eyes still bore into her, that intense blue stare made her want to shift.

“It’s not like you told me of your notes either.”

“Children, children,” Rayne said as he poured a shot of brandy. “It is past time for telling. The time has arrived to plan. I sent word to Hobbs; the men should be arriving shortly, knowing Hobbs.”

Jason leaned further to her, closing the distance between them. Nose to nose he said, very quietly, very coldly, “Do not
ever
keep anything from me again.”

He was so territorial. She smiled and kissed him, a simple kiss of her lips to his. “I’ll try.”

“You’ll do more than try.”

“How can I do more than try? I could try to tell you and you be busy, or you might not be here, or you could simply not listen, or—”

The last of her words were lost as his mouth descended onto hers. “Bedlam,” he muttered, his lips moving against her own. “Straight to Bedlam.”

She licked her lips when he pulled back.

“For the love of God, now is not the time to…to…to…” Rayne grumbled.

“Yes?” she and Jason asked together, both turning their heads in his direction.

“This is the way I see it,” Rayne said, that look of baffled amusement on his face he always seemed to carry. “The man is a liar. If confronted, Emily will simply say she doesn’t know him.”

“She won’t be confronted,” Jason replied.

“But if she is, if they’re ever face to face—”

“They won’t be,” Jason growled.

Emily laid her hands on his chest. “But if we are?”

His gaze zeroed back to hers, his eyes bright with a fierceness she’d never seen in him. “You
won’t
be.”

“The point is that she will deny knowing him, Jason. The man will be written off as a lunatic.” Rayne looked at her. “And there can be no scandal in that. No harm to come to Jason or to Joy.”

It made a bit of sense. “I see that. And I agree on the point that then he will have no public claim on me. But the fact is…”

“Have you seen this man?” Jason asked her, his gaze still level with hers. “Have you?”

She cupped his cheeks. “No. I would have told you if I had.”

He grunted and straightened. “Then for all we know, the man truly is an imposter.”

Hope flared within her, but doubts, the past squelched it. “I don’t think so,” she whispered.

“Why not?” Jason began to pace. “You’ve not seen him, only heard of him and he’s sent you missives. Are those the activities of a long-lost husband worried about his wife?” he asked.

Nick sauntered over to a chair, propping an elbow against the high back. “I think I need to make a round at my club this evening.”

Emily frowned.

Jason was already nodding. “Yes, I believe you do. Let the word be put out.”

“Is it to be vendetta or lunatic?”

Jason stared off into space. “An enemy. It’s the truth. I want none of this coming back on Emmy or Joy. Though a lunatic would work just as well, and we could write his claims off as mad musings.”

Emily stood up. “Wait just a moment. Are you all forgetting one small and not so insignificant detail?” She propped her hands on her hips, frustrated at the way the men just took over as if she were too weak to handle anything. Perhaps she’d had a few moments of weakness, but she’d managed to control the fear in the end. They could give her some credit.

“What is that?” Rayne asked.

“That if this man is who he claims to be, I am not married to you,” she said to Jason.

His gaze sharpened, chilled. “You are
mine
. Don’t you ever forget it.”

The brusque words at one time would have sent her running from the room or trembling in fear. Now, something warm unfurled within her. She was Jason’s. With him by her side, Theodore could hold no claim on her.

“So if it does turn out to be Theodore?” she pressed.

The men exchanged glances, the air thickened. No one answered her.

Chapter Twenty

Theodore paced his room. They knew, knew who he was and still men were looking for him. Him! As if he were the common criminal and not God’s Messenger, sent to spread the Word to thousands of savage heathens.

He stopped and looked out the small window to the street below. Filth all but clogged the air. He could smell it in the dank air, feel it in the words and voices, see it in the starving faces.

Yesterday morning he’d wondered what the two adulterers had thought of his messages. Then, by chance and God’s grace, he’d heard men below talking about the Marquis of
Ravensworth
and the reward for the crazy man stalking his family.

Stalking?

Theodore scratched his jaw, perhaps he was stalking them, but he had every right to do so. The marquis had taken what was his, stolen it.

He shook his head. No, no, that was
Rebeckah’s
fault. A woman’s place was by her husband, she knew that, had been taught that. So why hadn’t she followed God’s rule?

He left the woman because of her own actions, hoping to distance himself from her and his rage, to find peace with God. Instead, he’d been taken hostage and seen unspeakable crimes.

Sweat beaded on his forehead. The heathens had kept him alive, and for what, he still did not know, but he had not met the same fate as those others taken that day at the fort. Images, black and dark, winged their way along his nerves. Taking a deep breath, he tried to outrun them.

Screams echoed in his head, praying, crying. No help ever came.

Something crashed against the hall wall, jerking him back. A shudder danced through him, chills racing down his spine.

Theodore wiped his hands over his face. He needed to think to plan.

All he wanted was his wife and daughter. And the wife, he knew was a lost cause. Even he had not been able to beat the wickedness out of her.

But the child.

Ah, the child could still be saved. She was young enough, impressionable enough, he would raise her right. Of course the child wouldn’t come without the mother, and if he had the child, the mother would come easily enough.

Rebeckah
had always tried to protect her, but he’d had his way.

The past and present crashed through his brain, his wife and dark-headed girls. Pain echoed, a dull throb behind his eyes.

Some part of him whispered the child was not his, but he shoved the evil thought away. Laziness was not acceptable, nor were excuses. The child came first. The child should be saved. He’d just as well leave his wife here, the adulterating slut. But perhaps he could save her with time. God wouldn’t want him to give up.

No. No. No. Theodore shook his head and kept pacing, plotting and planning.

* * * * *

Emily clapped her hands at Joy’s picture. “Very beautiful, Poppet.”

Joy handed it to her and climbed in her lap. Emily didn’t care about the paint-covered fingers.

“And what is this?”

Joy settled against Emily. “
Das
Papa, add you, and
Panny
,” she said, pointing out the scribbles and then smiling at her nursemaid,
Franny
.

Emily nodded. “And what is this?”

Joy huffed. “
Dat’s
my pony,
Fweckles
.”

But of course it was. “Yes, I can see that now. You are just the little blooming artist aren’t you?” Emily kissed the dark curls atop Joy’s head, the slight smell of dust catching her off guard.

“What have you been doing?” she asked her daughter.

Franny
shook her head. “Miss Joy was playing in her cave again, my lady.”

“Your cave?” Emily asked.

Joy nodded. “Yep.
Lodo
was
hungwy
.”

Emily had no idea who
Lodo
was. The nursery had an alcove and one of the panels could open in the wainscoting. The crawl space behind it, Joy had claimed as her space—her cave where apparently
Lodo
presided.

“And who,” Emily asked, “is
Lodo
?”

“Da big cat.” She waved her picture in Emily’s face. “Les go give it to Papa.” Joy shuffled down and held the paper, the bottom corner clutched in her fist as she dashed to the door, almost tripping over her own feet.

“Joy, slow down,” Emily cautioned, hurrying to catch up with her daughter.

At the top of the stairs, she grabbed for her daughter just before Joy stepped off the first one.

“I do it myself.”

Emily sighed. “Not the stairs you won’t. I don’t need to see you
puddled
at the bottom of them. Who would ride Freckles then? And what would your Papa and I do without you?” Emily stepped off the first one and held tight to the straining hand in hers. “Besides, I need your help down them.”

Joy stopped, her brow furrowed as she thought about that. “I help you, Mama.”

Joy had become increasingly independent of late. It was exhausting. Emily yawned, tired already and it was just past noon. At least she had managed to keep her toast down this morning.

Jason’s study door was shut. Emily started to tell Joy they would wait, when Joy kicked it. “Papa!”

So much for leaving him in peace. “Joy, don’t kick the doors, it’s not ladylike.” The door opened. “You must knock. Not kick.”

Joy turned and said, “I couldn’t.” She held up the picture clasped in one hand and wiggled her fingers of the hand that Emily still held.

“At least you are resourceful and that is always a wonderful thing for a woman to be,” Jason said, leaning down and scooping Joy up. “What have we here?”

Emily walked past them into the room, dropping into one of the chairs as Joy prattled on about the picture.

“I’ll put it right here on my desk. Is that acceptable?”

She watched as he set the picture on the top of his desk.

“No, Papa, not
dere
.” Joy wiggled until she had the picture back and placed in the center of Jason’s work area, already littered and scattered with papers. “
Dere
.
Dat’s
where it should be.”

Jason met her eyes and grinned before he gave his daughter his attention. “My apologies, Poppet. I see you are right. Whatever was I thinking putting it up at the top? Anyone can see that the lighting is much better in the very center of my desk.”

Joy’s smile dimpled her cheeks.

Emily tried to swallow the yawn, but only managed to partially hide it and water her eyes.

Jason looked back to her as he sat, Joy in his lap. “Why aren’t you resting?”

“Haven’t made it to our room yet?” she tried, leaning back. If she stayed still she could more than likely go to sleep right here.

“You should be asleep.”

Without opening her eyes, she waved her hand in his general direction. “I will.”

With half an ear she listened to Jason and Joy whispering, glad she was here, with him.

Since night before last, her nerves had been calmer, now that Jason knew what they were facing. He was, she knew, right. She should have shared her worries right off, but she hadn’t. Now, though it hardly mattered. Jason was taking care of things, as he put it.

At least he told her what was going on.

The word had been sent out that a mentally ill man was stalking their family, thinking Joy and Emily were his wife and child. Speculation was that
Ravensworth
did not know if it was a ploy by one of his enemies to harm him, or if the man was truly insane. Either way, the lie had been told and spread as quickly as a fire in a dry forest. But then, there was nothing society liked more than the latest
on
dit
.

Emily still wasn’t certain how to feel about the falsehood, but she was trying not to worry about it, since Jason didn’t want her to worry. And she even learned there were bets placed in the clubs as to what “fate” would befall the man.

Yet, the clock inside her seemed to be ticking louder and louder, as if warning her that time was almost up. For what or whom, she tried not to dwell.

She did not tell Jason any of this, of course. He’d only tell her not to worry.

God’s truth she was getting tired of that dictate.

For just a moment more, she’d rest here, then she’d get up and go lie down.

Jason watched as Joy tiptoed out of the room, her hand held in Summerton’s, her steps animated and dramatic in an attempt to keep quiet. He let out a breath and looked at Emily.

She sat in the chair, her head tilted to rest against the back of it, her eyes closed, her cheeks too pale for his liking.

At least she’d managed to keep down what little she’d eaten today.

God she was beautiful, absolutely beautiful and he loved her.

He opened his mouth to tell her, but the reminder of her words the other night stopped him. Had he shown her enough that he loved her?

Jason
steepled
his fingers and rested them against his mouth, his elbows on the desktop and watched her sleep.

Emily was everything to him. Everything. Did she know that? How in the blazes did he
show
the woman what she meant to him?

He watched as her chest rose and fell with her evened breathing. She was asleep. Shaking his head, he stood, walked to her.

With the tip of his finger, he traced her arched brows, the bridge of her nose, which was, at present, free of worry. He brushed her hair back from her temple and leaned down kissing her cheek. It was as soft as Joy’s, he thought.

The woman needed to slow down. Bending, he scooped her up and held her against him, her smell of vanilla wafting around him as he walked from the room, her arm around his neck.

The only good thing about all the happenings of late was that it kept his mind occupied with things he could do instead of things he could not. The doctor advised against “marital duties”. Jason smiled. Dr. Blaine had turned all shades of red when giving that bit of halted advice.

And though Jason missed her like he had missed no other woman, he was taking no chances with her or the baby. So what if he hardly slept with her nestled up next to him, at least she was getting her rest.

At their bedroom, he laid her on the bed and eased off her gown and shoes. She mumbled something but closed her eyes again and went limp.

“You should have napped sooner.” He tossed her gown aside and pulled the covers back. He kissed her forehead, her nose, her mouth.

She mumbled something again.

“
Shh
. Rest.” He straightened, but her hand on his stopped him.

“Stay with me, please.” Even with her eyes closed, she arched a brow.

Chuckling, he squeezed her hand. “For a bit.”

When he settled against the pillows, she turned into him, resting within the circle of his arms, her head in the hollow of his shoulder.

“Do we really have to go tonight?” she whispered.

God he didn’t want to. Caressing her arm, he said, “I’d rather not. But if we stay here, with the rumors abounding, it’ll seem as if we have something to fear from this man. That we are hiding something.” He pulled his chin in and looked at the top of her head. She didn’t look up and he continued. “I don’t want anyone questioning this man’s motives or his connection to us. Being seen tonight at the
Kollerton
Ball will seem as if we are concerned, but that is all.”

It was crucial they go. The
Kollerton
affair was one that everyone who was anyone coveted an invite. If they were at the ball, and questions were asked, Jason could deflect them, answer them, whatever he needed to do.

“I promise we won’t stay long,” he told her again.

He stared at the canopy top, watching the shadows play on the deep blue pleats as he listened to Emily’s breathing. In no time, he knew she was asleep, yet still he stayed and held her.

Swallowing he whispered, “I know you don’t need the words, but sometimes I’d like to say them.” He kissed her hair. “I love you.” He blew out the breath he’d been holding. “I love you so much, the thought of anything happening to you terrifies me. I swear on all that I hold dear, I will keep you safe.”

A weight descended on his chest and he took a deep breath, hoping to ease it, but didn’t.

“I will keep you safe.”

She shifted, her arm coming around his middle, her head turning. He studied the ridged line of her nose, the way her lashes lay soft and curled against her cheeks.

She was his, and no one would ever say different.

The anger he’d held on simmer for the last two days bubbled anew. There were guards around the house now, four of them. Two watched the back alley and two the front. Hobbs said he’d sent his best men. The men, who would scare any other sane person, melted into clay when Emily or Joy so much as smiled at them. Especially Joy. She called them her pirates. They looked the part. One man was missing a hand, and in its place was a hook. One day, some person, mayhap his daughter, would undoubtedly write a story about a pirate captain and a hook for a hand. Joy called him One Hand Jack. And when he’d tried to tell his daughter that was not the man’s name, Jack had laughed and said it was better than most he’d been called in his life. So One Hand Jack had become the “leader” of Joy’s band of merry pirates.

Jason hadn’t asked where Hobbs had gotten the men, and he didn’t care. If Hobbs said these were the best, they were the best. He knew that these men wouldn’t hesitate to protect either Emily or Joy.

Gently, he eased out from under Emily’s arm and thought about tonight. In the last two days, no more missives had arrived, no gifts or presents from the man claiming to be Theodore Smith. Jason wasn’t certain if that were a good thing or a bad thing. And his gut was going with bad. Enemies were better when shouting their hatred to their adversaries than when they were silently plotting demises.

He quickly made his way downstairs, wondering which men he should leave to guard the house and if he wanted to take one with him.

No, he had
Furgus
. He’d leave the other four here to guard Joy and make certain the man did not try to gain entrance into the house again.