The Dream (30 page)

At his study, both
Lockley
and Summerton were waiting.

“Yes?” He paused.

“It’s the men you’ve employed to guard the fortress,”
Lockley
said.

Jason continued on into the room. “Ah, yes, the pirates.”

Summerton merely sent
Lockley
a leveled look. “We are concerned, my lord.”

“We?” Jason asked, striding past them and sitting again behind his desk. “Concerned?”

Lockley
cleared his throat, but Summerton opened his mouth first. The two had been friendly rivals for as long as Jason could remember.

“Yes?” he prodded.

“
We
wonder if perhaps you should not hire another person, my lord.”

Jason leaned back. “By ‘person’, do you mean another maid?”

Now it was his turn to get that leveled look.

“As in, as you so aptly described them, another pirate.”

Jason chuckled. “And why do
we
think I should hire another pirate?” Before long the entire household could take to sea on one of his ships.

“Given the gravity of this situation, my lord, another guard would not be remiss,”
Lockley
put in.

“And why is that?” he asked.

Summerton inhaled. “We have discussed this.”

“Again, the elusive ‘we’.”

Summerton didn’t so much as blink. “It is our opinion that her ladyship and Miss Joy are not the only ones in possible danger.”

Jason studied each man in turn, neither looked away from him. “I am touched, truly I am.” He glanced at the shipping logs on his desk. “Do you think this man might actually make a move against my own person?” he asked, in all disinterest.

When neither man answered him, Jason looked up.

Both nodded. Summerton answered. “We believe that may be a distinct possibility.”

Jason tilted his head. “Do you really think so?”

“Yes,”
Lockley
stressed. “We do.”

One day he would find out who all the
we’s
were in his households.
We’s
seemed to pop up whenever
Lockley
was around. It was as if the man could start riots.

“It seems, gentlemen, that I agree with you. I do rather hope the man will try for me.”

Both men blanched. “My lord?”

Jason smiled at them, he knew it held no amusement. “Worry not. It is the plan after all, and I am known to follow a set course, am I not?”

Lockley
frowned and muttered under his breath. Summerton straightened and said, “My lord, you are as stubborn as your father.”

“Indeed? Thank you for that compliment, Summerton. You’re excused.”

Jason looked back at the logs and waited for the door to shut. Yes, he agreed with them both. He hoped the bastard came after him. He had a few things to “discuss” with the man.

* * * * *

She was dancing, waltzing around and around the beautiful ballroom. Candlelight winked off the jewels on women’s necks and men’s cravats. Beautiful colors of the rainbow twirled to the music. Around and around she went. She felt so free. Looking up, she saw her partner.

Jason.

“I love you,” he said.

She smiled up at him. “I know. I love you, too.” Laughter made Emily turn to the doorway where two dark-headed girls stood whispering. Joy. Mary. Rayne stood behind them. Mary looked up, her eyes bright and waved, grinning that smile that melted Emily’s heart. Mary.

She started to pull away to go to her daughter, but Jason tugged on her hand. When she looked back at him, he frowned at her.

At the doorway stood only one child. Joy. Emily blinked and wondered if there had always been one and she’d just imaged Mary. Shaking off the thought, she concentrated on the waltz.

One, two, three. One, two, three.

Free. She felt free, and loved, and safe. This was her life. Nothing and no one could ever destroy it, no matter what price, she would make certain of it. The baby within her stomach swelled, grew, moved. She laughed, took one of Jason’s hands and let him feel his child within her.

As soon as his hand touched her stomach, the air changed, cooled, chilled. The glitter faded to gray, the waltz became discordant.

Costumes surrounded her. There were jesters with leering faces. Knights and ladies of the courts. Kings and queens. Someone was dressed as a horse and another as an alligator. Many were just in domino, simple masks covering their faces. Everyone was laughing as they danced and talked. The laughter and voices grew to the point she couldn’t hear anything else.

Where was Joy? She didn’t want her daughter to be frightened. Looking all around the ballroom she saw no sign of her daughter. She wanted to say something to Jason, only to realize he too was gone. Where was everyone?

How would she ever find them? She didn’t know where to turn, where to go.

Fear snaked its way across the floor and over her, a dark smothering shadow.

He was here.

Somewhere, Theodore watched her. Help. She needed to find help. Her feet tripped over each other as she hurried through the crowd. Catching hold of the nearest person to her, she saw a demon sneering down at her, its mouth open wide. For a moment, she froze, then she ran, shoving costumes, creatures, and animals out of her way as she raced in circles. Different people would catch her and sweep her up into the next dance.

Panic thundered through her. She had to leave. Had to escape before he found her.

One dancer clasped her only to release her to the next partner. Passed from one person to the next, she started to get dizzy.

“Help!” She stumbled. “Someone please, please help me. Jason?”

Every face leered, mocked, laughter answered her.

“Jason!”

“He’s not here,” a voice whispered.

Around and around she went.

“Rayne,” she whimpered.

“He can’t help you.”

Closer to the doors she came. The doors leading out into the garden. She saw then it was raining. Storming. The lightning flashed, and thunder rumbled.

She felt a kick within her stomach and looked down. Her stomach was fully swollen with child. Something wasn’t right, but she was too scared to figure that out right now.

Jason, she needed Jason. Lightning flashed again, and again there was a kick. Looking down once more she realized she was wearing one of her old dresses. Why was that?

She scanned the crowd, hoping to see Jason’s dark raven locks beneath the candlelight. Her new partner spoke to her.

“Looking for someone,
Rebeckah
?”

Startled and scared she looked up into the face of death.

Everything changed again. There was no music, no costumes, no dancers and no one to help her. She stood in a faded, scarred kitchen the wooden beams on the ceiling black, the floor clean if a bit scuffed.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, trying to pull free of him.

“I came for you, my wife. I told you I would never let you go. You are evil and wicked, like all other women. You are a vessel for the vile and a messenger of Satan. The evil must be beaten out of you. I have tried to save your soul but, like your mother with your harlot’s hair, you are lost. I will try again, but this is the last time.” Then he removed his mask and behind it was the face she hated, the face that haunted her. The face that could still terrify her.

She opened her mouth to scream, but she never made a sound as his fist came crashing down to the side of her face knocking her into the table.

She knew then where she was. No. No. No. Not again. Please not again.

Help me, someone please help me! She silently screamed.

She felt the pain sear into her belly, the child kicking as she fell to the floor.

Looking across the rough wooden floor, she saw Mary lying still and silent, one eye open, staring at nothing.

No!

The little face changed, melted into another’s. Joy. The eyes blinked.

“Mama!”

Blood splattered across Joy.

“Run, Joy. Run!” Her words echoed back to her.

The blows kept coming. She tried not to cry out, knowing that was what he wanted, but she couldn’t hold it in. The blows pounded into her. His feet kept kicking. She tasted her own blood even as she heard herself begging him to stop.

“Please, please. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. No more. Please Theo, no more. I’m sorry. The baby.” He didn’t listen.

Through the pain she looked up and saw blackness fly from his mouth and the dark cloud filled every room of the house. His twisted fury beat against her as did his fists. His blows didn’t stop, neither did her cries, nor the screams of her daughter.

A knock. She heard a knock. Help.

“Help, please, someone help me.” She didn’t know if she even voiced the plea as the pain consumed her body. The bruises and the broken bones were nothing to the pain ripping her apart as the child tried to come into the world.

“No, no. Please, no. Stop. Make it stop.”

And through the haze of red and pain, she knew this lost child was Jason’s.

Emily bolted up in bed. A scream caught behind the sickness clawing up the back of her throat.

Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.

She made it to the chamber pot before heaving up what little was in her stomach.

When the sickness passed, she lay on the floor praying to God, whom she’d almost learned to hate. But He’d seen her through the darkest times of her life, and she knew He’d see her through this too.

Please, please help her and Jason’s children through this.

Chapter Twenty-One

“I promise, we won’t stay long,” Jason told her, helping her up into the carriage.

He spoke briefly to the two men, Markus and Ralph, guarding the front of the house and sent a missive to Sir Taber who, upon learning of the events, wished—ordered—to be kept abreast of the situation.

Emily smoothed her hand over the moiré skirt in deep burgundy with gold thread shot through it, weaving swirled patterns upon the silk. She fingered the ridged gold trim and wondered why they had to go.

Jason settled across from her, handsome as ever in his black evening wear. The small sapphire signet ring he wore matched her wedding ring.

She sighed.

“Are you feeling all right? I am sorry about dragging you about tonight, but we must be seen, Emmy.” He thumped the roof of the carriage with his cane.

The action drew her attention. “Since when have you used a cane?” Black and lacquered, the walking stick shone in the carriage lights, the silver head of a raven topped it. Yet, for some odd reason, the raven’s clawed feet stuck out at an angle from the cane. It seemed strange to her and she’d never seen him use it before.

Jason turned the cane deftly, his hand fitting along the top as if the cane grew from his arm, the raven’s claws protected his wrist.

“Is that what I think it is?” she asked.

He only flashed her a wicked smile. “Things are not always what they appear.”

“And just what is that in your hand? The way you’re holding it makes it seem more like a rapier than a walking stick.”

Jason chuckled. “You see, it’s that sharp mind of yours that drew me to you.” He flicked his wrist and the cane became a cane once again.

She huffed and looked out the window at the darkened London streets. “Why,” she asked, not turning to him, “do you have a sword disguised as a walking stick?”

“My dear, Emmy.” He
tsked
. “And here I thought I’d brought your tastes up in the world of fashion. Didn’t you know every gentleman has one if he is of consequence?”

The amusement in his voice grated on her nerves. She turned back to him. “Perhaps they do. But I dare say they don’t go brandishing it about as if they plan to run someone through.”

He arched one supercilious brow. “It is hardly my fault a man would sport a weapon he’s not proficient in using.” He shrugged. “Bloody irresponsible, that.”

“Yes, it would be, wouldn’t it? I doubt you have that problem?”

He leaned up on his cane, closing the space between them. “Have you ever known me to brandish anything about that I don’t know how to use?”

Emily smiled at him as the carriage hit a pothole. She closed her eyes and wished the churning in her stomach would cease.

She felt his finger on her cheek and opened her eyes.

“I am sorry we had to come. But, you do look wonderful.” He leaned over and touched her lips with his.

She’d missed that. Kissing him, feeling him, loving him. Emily reached up and clasped the sides of his face, holding him when she deepened the kiss.

He jerked back. “You, madam, do not play fair at all.” His tongue darted out to lick his lips.

Emily touched her own with a gloved finger. Wiggling her brows she said, “Let’s go home.”

He chuckled. “No. As much as I’d love to, no. This is important.” His hands covered hers. “Are you truly that worried about this?”

She looked down.

“Emmy?”

How did she explain it to him? She hadn’t told him of the dream, not wanting to sound stupid. And that was all it had been, a dream.

“I just wish we didn’t have to go.” Her gaze rose back to his. “I don’t like leaving Joy home alone. He’s out there, Jason, just waiting. And, though you tell me not to, I can’t help but worry. I feel we should remain home this eve.” She squeezed his hand. “I don’t know how to explain it to you.”

Those blue eyes ran over her face, narrowing at the corners. His breath wafted over her when he released her.

“Not long. I promise.” He ran his finger down her nose. “Promise. One dance and then we’ll head home.”

The carriage swayed over the cobblestones.

“Emily, remember what we talked about.”

She nodded. “Yes, I know, act as if I am worried, but not too worried. The man is an inconvenience, that is all.”

“That’s my Emmy.” He leaned over and kissed her. “After tonight, we’ll head out to
Ravenscrest
.”

Hope rushed through her.

“
Ravenscrest
? Truly?”

He smiled and nodded. “Truly. I can keep a better eye on you there. There are simply too many people here in London for my peace of mind at present.”

They were going home. They were going home. She could make it through tonight. After all, it was just one ball.

* * * * *

Theodore checked the ties on the strips of leather on his feet. He’d taken off his shoes. Another trick learned during his months of captivity. The native savages had known how to go places and never been seen or heard. Leather strips tied on the feet instead of shoes allowed one to be almost silent if one knew how to move with stealth.

He pulled the knife from his belt and crept along the shadows. Two men guarded the back. It wouldn’t take him long to dispose of them. They were demons sent from hell to guard this place. She’d called them, hoping to hide from him longer. But he knew. He knew everything.

He’d watched as the great Marquis of
Ravensworth
and his whore drove off in the carriage. She’d been dressed as the harlot she was. A gown tawdry and vulgar in its wealth. Too much skin showing, jewels hanging from her neck. Wanton. Greed. Lust.

Sinners. They were all sinners.

Pain pulsed behind his eyes, but Theodore shook it off. It was time for reckoning. Time to get his family back. He would save his daughter. Save his child, teach her the right way, and once he had the child, then he could get the mother easily enough.

Oh yes. He knew her weakness after all, and children, to her, were a weakness.

He waited, counted. He’d watched them yesterday and again today. Theodore knew the way they worked and they never saw him. Never.

When the man stopped just in front of him, Theodore moved quickly. No one saw the knife flash in the darkness. The man made no sound.

One demon down; one more to go. People did not understand that many seemingly normal people were demons from the darkness. But Theodore knew, yes he knew. God gave him the gift to see them and now, to dispose of them and send them back to whence they came.

The leather silenced his footfalls as he made his way over the garden wall and to the other man. He must have made a sound, for just as he reached him, the man spun. Theodore ducked the other knife and threw his own, listening as the man gurgled on his own blood.

Theodore waited. “Tell your master he will not have what is mine. I will save them. I will save them yet!” He drove the knife deeper, twisting before pulling it out of the other man’s throat.

Now, to get into the house. The trellis had been cut, but there were numerous windows. He waited, watched, and knew which he’d use. The marquis’ study. There were bound to be pistols there.

He untied one of the leather strips and used it to cover his hand as he broke the window. The glass tinkled through the night. Theodore pulled himself up into the window, felt his way around to the desk, to the mantel, where a set of dueling pistols hung. He pulled them down and noticed they were loaded. Expecting company was he, the marquis?

Theodore stuffed them both in his waistband and leaned down to tie the leather back on. He heard a noise in the hall. Hurrying across the room, he stood behind the door.

“I tell you,
Lockley
, I heard something.”

“Perhaps we should inform the pirates, Summerton.”

Two men stepped into the room. They were merely servants. No reason to die because they were doing what they must.

Theodore moved to them. With one hand, he set the knife at the throat of the one nearest him.

“Set the candles down,” he whispered.

The man’s Adam’s apple bobbed against the blade.

“I will cut his throat here and now. His blood will be on your hands and hers.”

The other man set the candles aside. When he looked away, Theodore knocked the knife against the temple of the man he held and then bashed it against the other man’s.

Two more down.

Being prepared was as important as walking the right path. He took out the coil of rope in the satchel hung around his shoulder and cut strips off it. In only seconds, he had both men tied and gagged.

Gutting the candles, he left the study and the men behind.

Quickly and quietly he hurried up the stairs.

The hallways were empty, the maids having retired for the evening.

Outside the nursery he stopped.

* * * * *

Jason laughed at the man beside him.

“Man as well off as yourself, no wonder the crackpots are coming out of the woodwork after you,” Viscount
Shanling
said.

“Well, it isn’t the first time I’ve been the center of someone’s mad musings.” Jason flicked an imaginary speck of lint off his sleeve and watched Emily talking to a group of women in the corner. “However, it is the first time anyone has dared to come after my family.”

The men around him nodded and murmured.

The Duke of
Marlington
asked, “What are you going to do about the situation? Is the man that dangerous?”

Jason nodded. “As far as we can tell, but then how does one measure madness and dementia? The man’s letters are positively cryptic. He thinks my daughter is his own and Emily is his wife for God’s sake.” He shook his head. “One wonders what breeds that sort of sickness in a man.”

“True, true,”
Marlington
offered. “Hire some guards I suppose.” He took a drink of his brandy.

“Yes, we saw to that immediately. Where my wife and child are concerned I take no chances. Nor, I think, would any of you.”

“You should just hire someone to find the bloke and save you the trouble.”

Jason smiled at the duke. “Thought of that myself, Your Grace, but I haven’t found anyone just yet.”

The duke leaned close. “I’ll give you a name.”

Jason pulled back, impressed at the older man’s generosity.

Marlington
shook his head. “Your father and I were friends all our lives, surely my help doesn’t come as a surprise?”

Actually, the offer did.
Marlington
had always seemed so stiff, so set in his ways.

“Thank you,” Jason replied.

“You have much to protect. As you said, no point in taking chances,”
Marlington
said.

No, indeed not.

Emily caught his eye and he saw the panic race in hers. What was the matter? Then her grandmother came up and put her arm around Emily. Relief flittered across her face and she smiled.

Still wasn’t sure of her place here with him. He scanned the ballroom. With all these people? He’d never really thought about the scene before him. Emily fit in perfectly, yet stood out from each of them. The women dressed in shimmering, whispering silks. Their hair and jewelry were as perfectly complementary to the overall appearance as the flowers adorning their dresses. Men, who rarely wanted to be there in the first place, all looked the same in darker-hued colors. Save for the few dandies who thought to create their own fashion. One, Lord
Pinkerlie
, did like to create. His bright orange overcoat was as distracting as the grass green waistcoat he wore and green striped pants. The man was a holdover from the revolution and still spoke with traces of France in his voice. Just looking at the atrocious man gave Jason a headache.

“Damn peacock.” One of the men muttered.

Jason turned around.

“You were studying
Pinkerlie
, weren’t you?”

Jason tried to place the man, shuffled through faces and names. Sheldon. Sir Robert Sheldon. War hero, nephew and heir of Lord
Kollerton
.

“Yes, yes I was.”

“Like everyone else, wonder why he’s here, or come to see for yourself if the rumors are true?” the man bit out.

The anger in the other man’s words had Jason turning.

Sheldon was young, probably mid-twenties. Granted, any man who’d been through what either of them had been in the war, could never again be termed as young. There was a seriousness in him that told of experience.

“Sheldon, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He noticed the other men in their group had vanished.

Sheldon closed his eyes and took a deep drink from his champagne.

“My apologies.”

“Care to discuss it?” Jason could keep an eye on Emmy from here.

“Just that I’d like to call the man out.”

He looked back at him. “
Pinkerlie
? I dare say I don’t want to know, but curiosity is all but consuming. Why?”

Sheldon narrowed a look at him. “Where have you been,
Ravensworth
?”

Apparently out of the loop. “I’ve had my own concerns.”

Sheldon waved a hand. “Oh of course, the lunatic. Well, at least the man is crazy. Though looking at
Pinkerlie
one must wonder at his own sanity.” He sighed. “The blackmail rumors. He’s supposedly blackmailing my aunt and uncle and everyone is
agog
with why.”

Jason
humphed
. “I’m sure it’ll all blow over. Doubt there’s any truth in it.”

“You’d be the only one to believe that,” Sheldon muttered, then looked at Jason.

Sheldon was a few inches shorter than him, with wheat blond hair and sky blue eyes that reflected like cold winter ice.

“You need any help with your current problem?” he asked.

The question surprised Jason. The night couldn’t be going better. Jason sighed. “I don’t believe so, but thank you. I believe tomorrow we’re going to return to
Ravenscrest
Abbey.”

Sheldon nodded. “Better to keep an eye on them there. Too damn many people in London. Hard to keep track of oneself here, let alone anyone else.”

“Thank you, Sheldon.”