The Faithful Heart (31 page)

The surprise in Tom’s eyes faded to regret.
“He picked the right side in the end, didn’t he.” It was her turn
to be surprised. “Do you know why I stuck by Ethan after Jack
left?”

“Because you believed in him,” she
nodded.

“No,” he sighed. “I stuck by Ethan because I
didn’t know what else to do.” He straightened in his saddle. They
had reached the road leading out of the forest towards Derby.
“That’s the story of my life, Madeline.” He turned to her, eyes a
dull imitation of his brother’s. “Jack has always been so sure of
himself. He could always talk his way into or out of anything. But
I never know what to do, how to talk to anyone. So do I love you? I
think I could. I think he expects me to take care of you, to marry
you because he can’t. I would do a good job of it. But is that what
I want?” He shrugged. “I just don’t know. Sorry if that’s not the
answer you were looking for. But does that mean that I’m not trying
as hard as I can to help you get him back from Lydia? No. It
doesn’t. I just don’t know what else I can do.”

He sat there for a moment staring at her,
breathing as though he’d run through the forest. The depth of
despair in his eyes brought tears to her own. She swallowed the
lump in her throat and smiled. “You know who you should talk
to?”

He let out a breath, his shoulders dropping
with a reluctant smile. “Who?”

“Simon. You should talk to Simon. If anyone
can help you find a sense of direction then it would be Simon
McFarland.”

“Jack’s Simon?” he smirked. “We’ll see.” He
nudged his horse to a fast walk along the road.

She tapped hers to catch up to him. “No, I’m
serious. Simon is the most directed man I know. He is full of
wisdom. He’s … he’s like a father really, a good father. And he’s
been through so much.”

“Alright, I’ll talk to Simon.”

He was saying it to placate her. She wasn’t
sure if she liked it or not. If she had given that kind of advice
to Jack he would have come right back with his own opinion about it
and about seven other things while he was at it. Then again, Jack
already knew how valuable Simon could be. Tom, on the other hand,
didn’t even know how valuable he himself was.

He kicked his horse to a gallop, leaving her
behind. Her eyes stung with frustrated tears on his behalf. Her
whole world was one bubbling cauldron of frustration. “I hate
crying,” she grumbled to her horse, wiping her eyes with the back
of her sleeve before kicking him to follow Tom.

They were silent the rest of the way to Derby
Castle. It would have been impossible to talk while galloping
anyhow, but Madeline knew that if they were walking at a leisurely
pace they still wouldn’t talk. She agonized over every cause for
frustration all the way along the road, into the city and up to the
castle. The darkening skies above seemed to reflect her
thoughts.

When they reached the courtyard Madeline
caught sight of a familiar face ducking around the corner close to
the kitchens. “Toby?” His was the last face she would have expected
to see at Derby Castle. She swung her leg over her horse and
dismounted. Toby’s face bobbed around the corner again. What was
going on? She started towards him.

“Madeline, wait!” Tom called after her.

She ignored him, frown creasing her brow as
she chased after Toby. He hadn’t had time to dash more than a few
feet towards the kitchen door when she caught up to him.

“Toby, what are you doing here?”

“I’m, uh…”

“He’s staying at the castle,” Tom filled her
in as he jogged to join them.

She blinked between the two men. “How long
have you been here? And why haven’t you come to visit me? And why
didn’t you tell me?” she directed her last question to Tom.

Tom opened his mouth, but Toby answered
first. “We’ve been here for a month, my lady.”

“We?”

“Did you find anything?” Toby avoided her
question by asking one of his own.

Tom shook his head. “They aren’t at the
hollow. At least not right now.”

Madeline’s jaw dropped. “You’ve got inside
information!” She didn’t know whether to rejoice or give the two of
them a tongue-lashing.

Tom kicked the dirt and Toby wrung his hands
with a guilty grimace. “Not exactly, my lady. But Ethan and I, and
Tom too really, know the forest well having lived in it for the
last year. We know most of the hiding places.”

She blinked as the implication hit her. “So
you know about the money then? About Jack agreeing to marry
Lydia?”

“Yes.” Toby couldn’t meet her eyes. “I’m very
sorry about that.”

“So you can help! You and Ethan can help us
search!”

“Well,” Toby scratched his head, his face
coloring, “not exactly, my lady. Ethan has a broken foot. And … and
he’s not too pleased that so many people are laying claim to … to
his money.”

She pursed her lips. “It’s not Ethan’s money.
It’s not Lydia’s money either. It’s Derbyshire’s money and it
should be used to help the people of Derbyshire.”

“Yes, well,” Toby shifted uneasily, “it
doesn’t do any of us much good if we don’t know where it is.”

He had a point. She sighed. “How is Ethan
holding up? You said he had a broken foot?”

“He’s well enough,” Toby mumbled his answer.
It had the feeling of a lie.

She didn’t have time to worry about it. “Wish
him well for me. And let him know that we could use his help as
soon as he’s recovered.”

“I will, my lady,” Toby’s answer was as
uncertain as the weather. He nodded to her and turned to go.

Madeline exchanged a glance with Tom.
“Something you forgot to tell me?”

Tom let out a breath. “You don’t know what
Ethan’s been like these last few weeks. Joanna is on the verge of
murdering him.”

“Joanna knows about this?”

He glanced down, unable to meet her eyes.
“I’ll go talk to him and see if I can’t figure out any other places
we could search.” Without meeting her eyes Tom dashed after
Toby.

She watched him go, chewing her lip. If Ethan
claimed that the money was his her problems had a whole new angle
to them. But if Ethan was willing to help them perhaps they could
beat Lydia at her own game after all. It seemed a long-shot, given
what she knew of Ethan’s opinion of Jack.

She sighed and headed back to the courtyard.
Maybe she should be the one to talk to Simon as she’d advised Tom.
It would almost feel like talking to a father. He may have seemed
cold on the outside but there was another side to Simon McFarland
that no one else was seeing. She pulled off her riding gloves and
bunched them in a fist. If she wanted to talk to Simon she would
have to go to Kedleridge. And if she went to Kedleridge she would
run into Lydia. Everything in her life circled back around to that
witch.

“Oy! Stop right there!”

Jack’s shout made her gasp and spin to see
who he was shouting at. Her heart dropped like a rock to her
stomach when she found him charging down the castle’s front stairs
toward her. A sharp twist of longing pulsed through her until she
recognized the look of fury in his eyes.

She took a step back as he rushed the last
few yards to her, scanning the area for a way to escape. One of the
burly guards she’d seen at the camp jogged down the stairs after
him. He stumbled down the last step and doubled over, muttering a
curse. She didn’t have time to question what he was doing
there.

“Jack!” she started.

Jack noticed the guard hopping on one foot
and leaning against the low wall at the bottom of the stairs. The
guard was more interested in his injury than them. Jack’s reaction
was instant. He grabbed her arm and ran with her towards one of the
guard rooms built into the castle gate. She didn’t have time to
argue or protest and wasn’t inclined to when he swept her off in
his arms. As soon as they were safe inside the cramped room Jack
peeked out of the door to spy on the man from the camp.

“Bloody hell!” he exclaimed with a laugh. “I
gave him the slip!” He spun around to rest his back against the
wall, shoulders dropping in relief. “A sodding month and I finally
gave that bastard the slip!”

Madeline wasn’t sure whether to laugh with
him or scold him for his language. Either way, it was such a joy to
see any kind of smile on his face that tears stung her eyes.

Jack’s relief was short-lived. He opened his
eyes and fixed them on her. “I have half a mind to turn you over my
knee and give you a bloody good thrashing, MP!”

She yelped in protest, planting her fists on
her hips. “That’s a fine way to say hello when I haven’t spoken to
you in ages, Jack Tanner!”

His eyes popped wide and he straightened. The
myriad of emotions that washed across his face in the dim light of
the guard room, humor, despair, relief, pain, love, sent a hard
lump of longing to her throat.

“I need to talk to you,” his frown returned.
He took another peek into the courtyard then spun back to grab her
hand. A narrow stairway curved up from the cramped room. He tugged
her with him onto the ramparts. Keeping to the outside of the wall,
he dashed away from the front gate towards the side of the castle.
Madeline could just see the guard who had been following Jack
turning his head this way and that in search of him. Jack noticed
as well and ducked as they rushed out of his sight.

When they reached the second thick tower in
the wall he straightened, but he didn’t slow his flight until they
had circled all the way around to the back tower. The entire castle
stood between them and the guard. A few of the castle sentries
lounged there but with one glance from Jack they jumped up and made
themselves scarce. Still cautious, Jack toted her up another narrow
staircase to the parapets. The gray skies began to give way to
rain, but he ignored it.

“Right,” he took a deep breath and faced her
as though she was an executioner. “What did you do with the
priests?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she
lied, face flushing bright pink.

He knew she was lying. “We don’t have time
for this, MP,” he shook his head, the dark circles under his eyes
standing out as rain flattened his hair to his head. “I don’t have
time for this.”

“They’ve gone on holiday,” she fumbled for an
excuse.

“Priests don’t go on holiday,” he crossed his
arms then added, “Do they?”

“Yes, they do,” she committed to her story.
“All the time. It’s for, um, the Feast of St. Ignatius.”

“You’re joking.” The barest hint of a sparkle
lit his eyes.

“No I’m not! We used to go on trips to, um,
the seashore all the time for the Feast of St. Ignatius. It’s very
popular in the Church.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes!” She brightened. “There’s nothing like
fresh sea air to, uh, carry prayers straight to God’s ears. And …
and there’s the devotional sand sculpture contest.”

He cracked into a grin that turned into a
chuckle. “You are the worst liar in the history of England, MP.” He
shook his head. His laughter twisted to something so close to
torture on his pale face that her throat closed up.

“No really,” she poured her heart into saying
something, anything that would make him smile again. “We went every
year. And I … two years ago I won the ribbon for my sand sculpture
depicting Mary Magdalene at the tomb. It was-”

His arms closed around her and his mouth
stopped her blathering before she could finish her thought. A
heartbeat of surprise was all it took before she kissed him back
with passion that welled up from the center of her soul. She locked
her arms around him, digging her fingers into the muscles of his
back through his wet tunic. He grunted in what might have been pain
but she never wanted to let go. His lips were warm on hers, his
tongue teasing and tempting her as it played with hers. She
squeezed her eyes closed, feeling him, tasting him, her heart
wanting to meld with his.

His passion ebbed. His arms loosened around
her. He brushed his hand across her cheek, laying his warm palm on
the side of her face, wiping the raindrops from her skin with his
thumb. He broke his kiss but couldn’t stay away, dipping back for
another and another, each lighter and sweeter than the one
before.

“I love you, Madeline,” his whisper was a cry
of desperation. He tried to pull away but she tightened her grip.
He let out a breath and kissed her once more, kissed her lips,
sucked the rain from the tip of her nose, kissed her cheeks and jaw
and then her lips again. She threaded her fingers into his wet
hair. “I love you so much I can’t breathe.”

“I love you too, Jack,” she pressed up to
take a kiss from him whether he wanted to give it or not.

His arms circled her and he lifted her off
her feet. She clamped her legs around his waist as he backed her
into the wall, holding her there so that he could take every last
breath and heartbeat from her. His hand moved without apology to
cradle her breast, squeezing just enough to leave her gasping for
more. She nipped at his lip. He let out a growl that left her
quivering and glad he was supporting her. His mouth pulled away
from hers and he traced kisses down her neck, lapping up the water
that trickled across her hot face. She wanted to feel the contrast
of his soft lips and coarse goatee on so much more than her
throat.

As fast as he’d started, Jack stopped kissing
her. He sucked in a breath and stood straight, still holding her
but turning his face up to the cooling rain, eyes shut tight in a
painful wince.

“Don’t stop, Jack,” she panted, sliding her
fingers into his wet hair. “Please don’t stop.”

He laughed in agony, lowering his head to
kiss her again.

“We can’t do this,” he sighed, resting his
forehead against hers. She couldn’t tell if his face was splashed
with raindrops or tears. “I love you more than anything, Madeline,
but we can’t do this.”