The Letter (3 page)

****

Diana took a moment to enjoy the antics of her son. Jamie was trying to catch minnows, but the wily things stayed just out of his reach. She chuckled and continued to scrub their clothes against the rock. Lifting her face to the sun, she welcomed the warmth, wishing it could banish the cold now living inside her.

Dinner would be the same as last night and the night before. If she had only known how her life would turn out, she would have spent all her time in her parents’ kitchen learning if there were more than two ways to prepare potatoes.

Her garden was a disappointment. She was learning to grow vegetables, which would be nice for next year, but was of no help now. Thankfully, they had the chickens. She had taken in mending, spending hours at night sewing by the light of a candle, using the meager coins she received to purchase the vicious birds.

She looked at the wounds on her hands. Someone should have told her how protective the blasted things were of their eggs. Just one more thing she never thought she might need to know. Their eggs and the potatoes she managed to grow kept them fed, but winter was fast approaching. The thought of not having enough food for Jamie was beyond frightening.

If only she had a small bit of the money she once spent on gowns, bonnets, and ribbons, without a thought to their cost. Someone should have warned her dreams could shatter and love wasn’t to be trusted. Tears burned her eyes. She furiously pounded the threadbare chemise against the rock, anger boiling up from deep inside, making her want to scream.

Damn Leo, damn her father, and damn Michael. No, she wouldn’t think about the one who should have been her husband. Except in her dreams, which she had yet to learn to control, she hadn’t allowed herself to think of him for years. She wasn’t going to start now. The fairy tale future with the man of her heart had been but a wisp of smoke, here and then gone.

She had not been taught how to keep a ten-year-old boy alive and healthy without a man by her side. She had not been prepared for how to deal with the Leos and Bloodstones of this world.

The garment caught on the rough edge of the rock, its thin fabric ripping. She dropped the chemise and stared at it. She couldn’t do this. She just couldn’t. All she wanted was to crawl into bed and pull the covers over her head until she faded to nothing.

Her gaze fell on her son. He had promised to catch fish for their dinner. How many minnows would it take to feed them? Was there such a thing as minnow soup? She bowed her head and pressed a hand to her forehead, forcing down the hysterical laughter that threatened.

She could do this, had to for him. She would learn to grow vegetables, take in more sewing and become a pig farmer, if necessary, to protect Jamie. She had even swallowed her pride and written to her father for help, but his silence spoke volumes. If she showed up on his doorstep with Jamie, would he turn them away? Even though he had disowned her, could he stand by while his daughter and grandson starved?

“Yes!” Jamie beamed, holding a tiny thrashing fish by its tail.

She wished it were big enough to eat. “What are you going to do with it?”

Instead of answering, he dropped his catch, his young face taking on a scowl at something behind her.

Diana looked over her shoulder. Oh God, now her dreams were taking life. If this continued, she would end up in Bedlam. Her heart pounded in her chest. She took deep breaths in an attempt to get air back into her lungs, blinking hard to clear her vision. As if she hadn’t enough troubles, her mind was playing tricks and conjuring up an illusion of
him.

Michael. The man whose name she spoke in hazy dreams stood tall and proud staring down at them. The illusion moved, stepping forward. Mercy, he was real. How was that possible? Why was he here? What did he want? The days when she had prayed to see him come for her were long past. Why now?

She took in his fine clothes, thinking the cost of his Hessian boots alone would go a long way in keeping her and Jamie fed. Resentment simmered. Lord Daventry obviously hadn’t been reduced to living on six pennies a month. He wasn’t existing on poorly cooked potatoes and eggs if his muscular body was any indication. Her gaze shifted to Jamie, comparing his bone thin arms and legs, his sunken cheeks to those of the well-built, full-cheeked man standing silently before them. The man who had tossed her away.

Rage made her senseless.

****

Michael stood at the edge of the clearing and stared at the woman he had once loved. She was different. The young, laughing, and beautiful Diana of his memory now appeared tired and afraid. His gaze turned to the boy. Was this his son?

He looked back at Diana, the woman he had pledged to love, the woman he had promised to protect and cherish. Had he truly failed her? Or was Leo’s letter a lie? Did it matter?

Suddenly, she was barreling toward him. He had a moment to think she was running into his arms before she crashed into him, her fists pummeling his chest. A second, much smaller body followed, attacking his knees and thighs. He made no move to stop them, believing he deserved their anger, especially hers. They weren’t hurting him, both too undernourished and weak to do any damage. He had imagined several scenarios on first seeing her again, but this had not been one. He didn’t know what to do other than let them beat on him until they were too exhausted to continue.

“You piece of dirt. You worm. You…you…”

Bloody bastard
Michael finished for her, but the words didn’t escape his lips out of respect for his possible son.

“You leave my mama alone.”

At the boy’s words, the woman he had once thought of as his slid to her knees and buried her face in her hands. It was a position he didn’t like. He wanted her on her feet, fire in her eyes, fists swinging. He wanted to scoop her up, carry her to safety and soothe her hurts. What to do with this beaten down woman was beyond his knowledge.

All he knew was this: Lady Diana Cavanaugh had been reduced to washing clothes on a rock and it was so very, very wrong.

James stepped back next to his mother and put his hand possessively on her shoulder. “You made my mama cry. I want you to go away.”

Michael smiled at the boy, hoping to assure him he meant no harm. “I’m sorry, but I must speak to her.” He held out a hand. “Diana?”

She lifted her gaze to his hand and scooted backwards. She stood without his help, her face devoid of any expression. “Lord Daventry.”

At the utterance of his name, the boy rushed to stand in front of her and gave Michael a fierce glare. His cousin had spoken true. James hated him. It shouldn’t hurt. He had been warned by Leo’s words to expect it, but he hadn’t really understood until now. Michael didn’t know how to go on from here. He would take them to his home, and into his protection, but how best to do it? She had changed. The woman standing before him obviously wished him to Hades.

Her gaze met his briefly before she looked away. “My lord, why are you here?”

My lord? Once there had been so many words between them. My lord was not one of them. “I’ve come to take you home.”

She looked at him as if he were mad. “Home? This is our home.”

“No, Diana. No, it isn’t. This is not where you are meant to be.”

Her eyes closed, likely praying he would be gone when she opened them. She looked like a tired, underfed waif, but he still thought her beautiful no matter her sad gown and fatigue-bruised eyes.

The child glared at him, his stance projecting defiance. Michael couldn’t help feeling pride in the boy’s daring. “James,” he said. “That is your name, is it not?”

“What do you care, sir?”

“If you believe nothing else, believe this one thing. I care.”

Diana’s eyes flashed with pain and the boy’s shot daggers of fire back at him. Michael could have fallen to his knees and wept to see such evidence of fear and hatred.
Curse you, Leo
. Michael tapped his fingers over his heart where an old, familiar ache materialized. He had felt this same pain eleven years ago and thought he’d banished it. How had he allowed one evil man to destroy three lives?

“James, would you be kind enough to allow me a few minutes to talk with your mother?”

The boy was obviously on the verge of saying no when Diana placed a hand on his shoulder. “Go back to the house, Jamie. I will be there shortly.”

Giving him one last glare, Jamie stomped off, disappearing down the road. Michael was suddenly at a loss for words.

“My lord?”

He deserved her formality, but there had been a time when she had whispered his name while speaking words of love. Her hands, red and raw, the nails broken, were clenched tightly. Rage burned deep in his gut, souring his stomach. Between the two of them, he and Leo had destroyed a beautiful woman. He should prostrate himself at her feet and beg forgiveness.

“Diana—”

“Lady Brantley.”

She wasn’t going to make it easy for him and he couldn’t blame her, but he refused to call her Lady Brantley. “My lady, I have come to take you and your son home.”

“Home?” She gave a harsh laugh. “Where would that be, my lord?”

He looked into eyes the color of chocolate and braced himself for her reaction. “For now, Wyburne.”

A barely discernible tightening of her jaw was the only response. Well, what had he expected? For her face to light up at the mention of his lodge? He once offered to take her to Italy or Greece, or any place she wished for their wedding trip. She chose Wyburne. Surprised, he had asked her why, of all the places to pick from, she wanted to go to his hunting lodge. She had given him a seductive smile and told him it was the only place where she could have him all to herself. He remembered thinking at the time how very much he loved her.

She shook head. “No, I am not going anywhere with you.”

He glanced at the stream where she had been trying to wash clothes. Upon arrival, he had knocked on the door and receiving no answer, had opened it and looked around. She and James were living in a one-room cottage, if one could even call it that, with the barest of furniture.

The only food to be found consisted of a few potatoes, four eggs, a small bag of flour and a half loaf of bread that felt, when he poked a finger at it, several days old. He supposed the eggs came from the four chickens running around the yard and the potatoes from her poor excuse for a garden.

“You and your son won’t survive the winter. If not for yourself, at least for his sake, listen to reason.”

****

Diana took a step back. What had she been thinking to attack him? He had just stood and let her beat on him. If it had been Leo, the punishment for her behavior would have been severe. But Michael, no, Lord Daventry… Heaven help her, she no longer knew what to call him. There were too many beautiful memories she held deep in her heart to even think of him formally, but Michael belonged to another life, one lost forever. Daventry, just Daventry.

She darted a glance at his eyes looking for signs of anger, then to his hands expecting to see them fisted. His arms hung loosely at his sides, his body relaxed, his look nothing but kind. The young lord she’d given her heart to had grown into a striking man.

But in the brief moment she’d glanced at him, she had noted changes. His eyes, so dark a blue they were almost the color of ink, had lost their soft warmth, and his black hair was lightly dusted with silver on the sides. Gone was the boyish smoothness of his face, and now tiny lines framed the corners of his eyes. His body had filled out, too, his shoulders broader than she remembered. Power flowed from him, power far greater than Leo’s. That frightened her. This man could knock her across a room with a mere flick of his wrist.

“I only wish to see you and James are cared for,” he said softly. “Listen. The two of you are already half starved and winter will arrive soon. How will you care for him then?”

She would find a way to feed her son. “I won’t go with you.”

He sighed. “This is not how I wished it, but you give me no choice. You and the boy are coming with me to Wyburne. If I must, I will carry you to my carriage and put you in it.”

Fear crawled down her spine. “You would not dare.”

“I would dare much for you, Diana. Which will it be? Will you come willingly or must I force you?”

Terror held her in place. Eleven years was a long time, more than enough for him to have changed. The man she had once loved had always looked at her with soft, warm eyes. This man with his cold, determined eyes, she no longer knew. Had he become like Leo? Would he force his will on her and beat her if she failed to obey? She eyed the distance to the road. Could she make it past him and to the cottage before he caught her? Surely, he would not hurt her in front of Jamie.

Her husband had taught her to see the threat of danger by watching for the rage that could burn in a man’s eyes. She forced herself to look at Daventry again, wanting to know what message he was sending. His legs were braced apart, his arms crossed over his chest, his posture one of arrogance and authority. But the rage she expected to see was absent; the only expression she could discern was one of a man patiently awaiting an answer to his question.

He confused her.

She gathered her courage and made to move past him, preparing to run if necessary. He didn’t try to stop her, only fell into step beside her. Unsettled by his nearness, she sidestepped to put distance between them, relieved when he didn’t try to close the space she had created.

“Will you come willingly, Diana?”

There was gentleness in his deep voice, but she wasn’t fooled. Both he and his cousin had taught her a man could not be trusted. “I have given you my answer, my lord. And it is Lady Brantley.”

****

Michael swallowed his fury. If he allowed her to see his anger, she would mistake its source. Leo was bloody fortunate he was dead. Putting calm reason into his voice, he said, “I cannot accept your answer, my lady. I will not leave you and the boy here to die.”

He had no trouble matching her long strides. She was almost running, and if her aim was to flee, she would soon learn he had caught her, though it had regretfully taken him eleven years to do so. Where the devil had that thought come from? His purpose in finding her wasn’t to reignite long burnt out flames. If it wasn’t for the boy, he wouldn’t be here.