The Rebel (26 page)

Jane was about to mount up when she saw
Henry’s long frame leaning against a tree next to the parsonage,
watching her silently. And this was another man that had to hear
her appreciation. With a guilty smile, she walked back toward
him.

“I am sorry…I had no right to be so
critical.”

“You are forgiven.” He spoke solemnly, but
she detected the trace of a smile tugging at the corner of his
mouth.

“And I never thanked you for what you are
doing for Rita and her children. I take so much for granted in you,
Henry, and…”

“Just go, Jane,” he said with a knowing nod.
“Go and catch up to him.”

“Perhaps we should get Sir Thomas to send
out a search party for him? Your son has been gone
all
day!”

Alexandra patted Lady Purefoy’s arm. “I am
quite certain that is completely unnecessary. Knowing my son, he is
probably developing a fond friendship at this very moment with a
number of your neighbors at some village inn. As we speak, they are
probably drinking and rolling up their sleeves and trying to outdo
the next with war stories. And in a few hours, they will be
wagering on a brawl taking place outside…that is, if Nicholas is
not one of the combatants.”

The horrified expression on their hostess’s
face was precious, but soon the woman let out an uneasy laugh.

“I am not always prepared for your quick
wit, Lady Spencer. So many times I just cannot separate truth from
jest.”

Alexandra arched a questioning eyebrow. “Do
you think I was speaking in jest?”

She was pleased to see the cloud of
confusion settle heavily on the other woman’s face. Casually, but
before she was asked again about Nicholas’s whereabouts, Alexandra
walked to where Fanny and Lady Purefoy’s daughter were engaged in a
card game of some kind. Clara’s stylish and revealing dress tonight
was far different from anything she’d worn before. But there was
something else different about the young woman tonight. Alexandra
used her artist’s eye to try to discover what it might be.

Clara certainly appeared as quiet as ever.
But the air of dreaminess that had pervaded her manner seemed to
have evaporated. She appeared alert—even intelligent.

Alexandra sat in a chair near them. “So what
do
you
think of a well-born Englishman who becomes deathly
bored with spending too much time with the people of his own
rank.”

“I find him charming. Where could I meet
such a man?”

“Frances!” Alexandra scolded lightly. “I was
speaking to Clara.”

“But Mother, you need to be clearer in your
description. I, for one, would be curious to know if this noble
gentleman happens to be young and incredibly handsome and
desperately in search of the love of his life.” Frances’s blue eyes
danced with mischief when they met her mother’s. “After all, I am
not too young. Sixteen is the perfect age to start the search
for…”

“
This
discussion doesn’t concern you,
young woman.” Alexandra spoke the words quietly and sweetly, but
she made sure there were daggers laced in her tone.

“Oh! Now I understand. You were referring to
Nicholas
.”

Lady Spencer glared at her daughter as the
young woman hid a smile. Knowing any further reproach would be
completely useless with the little troublemaker, she turned toward
Clara.

“And what is your opinion…”

She was greatly surprised to see this young
woman was trying to stifle a smile, as well, hiding her face behind
the cards.

“Well, Miss Clara, this is a side to you we
haven’t seen.”

Clara lowered her cards and looked Alexandra
in the eye.

“My apologies, Lady Spencer. But I find your
daughter’s gift of honesty and candor delightful.”

“What a curious way to describe a
curse.”

As the two of them giggled like two
conspirators who had just snitched the church wine, Alexandra
considered with some amazement the transformation that had taken
place in the relationship between the two of them, as well.

“The incorrigible and the corrupted,” she
said breezily, walking away with an arch smile.

In her heart, though, a heavy weight was
settling. It was difficult to admit, but she had been much happier
not
liking Clara. Whom this young woman was trying to
imitate, or had suddenly become again, was a woman who had a much
greater chance of success. She was no doubt once again the woman
Nicholas had, at some point, considered marrying.

Walking to the window, Alexandra stared out
into the darkness and thought of Jane. She had made a decision not
to interfere. She’d thought it would be best to allow Fortune’s
wheel to turn as it will. But now, she wasn’t sure if that was such
a good idea. With Clara obviously setting her mind to compete for
Nicholas’s attention, the older sister didn’t have a chance to
succeed. And though Jane had not shown any hint of even being
interested at Nicholas, Alexandra had been watching her own son. He
was wrestling with feelings that were leaving him unsettled. For
every meal the older Purefoy sister had been absent, Nicholas’s
attitude had worsened tenfold. He was not one to allow himself to
become so affected by a woman—unless there was something more
between them than anybody knew.

Sir Thomas’s brooding figure appeared in the
doorway, and he cast a look around the parlor before settling a
frowning glance on his wife. “Sir Nicholas is not back yet, I take
it.”

Catherine Purefoy laid down her needlework
and rushed to her husband. “I’ve had Cook wait dinner, but it is
getting late and…” she lowered her voice, “—Lady Spencer believes
we shouldn’t wait at all.”

The man gave a curt nod. “Have a tray sent
to me in the library.”

Alexandra watched the man’s rude behavior
with disgust as he walked abruptly away. A glance at Clara showed
the young woman’s cheerful demeanor return as soon as the
conversation between her parents had ended. But Jane. Where was
Jane?

Armed with new purpose, Lady Spencer knew
that she had to help the older sister. Fortune’s wheel sometimes
did not turn quickly enough, she decided. It was up to her to
meddle.

***

The rising moon cast long stretches of
shadows and made the mountains in the distance appear to loom large
over the land.

Nicholas tried to restrain his anger and
frustration and instead focus on the moonlit countryside. So much
of the land was already familiar. The Blackwater River lined by
rolling farms and pastures. Further south, the higher moorland cut
by deep valleys of marsh and woodland. The sight and the names of
mountains and pagan stones and villages nestled into the hills were
becoming inscribed in his memory. Boggeragh, Banteer, Drommahane,
Nad. Tonight though, wherever he looked, Jane’s face was all he
saw.

He wanted her. This fierce yearning for a
particular woman was a new sensation. It was one he’d never
experienced before. And frankly, he found it as maddening as it was
magical.

He wanted to spend endless hours with her.
He wanted to see her. He wanted to touch her. He wanted to lose
himself in her taste and softness. He wanted to see her smile and
watch her turn to him as she had done this morning when they’d left
Rita’s cottage.

But he couldn’t have her. By ‘sblood, he’d
be damned if he would compete for her affection if she were already
in love with another man. Nicholas refused to play the part of any
second. He wanted her body, heart, and soul all for himself. And he
wasn’t about to share her with anyone.

Jane had said that there was nothing between
Henry Adams and herself, but he believed she wasn’t being honest
with herself. It had been to the parson’s house that she had wanted
to take the three children. It had been the parson’s help that
she’d sought.

There was trust, friendship…and something
much more, he suspected, between them.

A sound coming from somewhere to his left
caused Nicholas to rein in his horse and peer into the darkness. He
was the only one abroad as far as he could see. He could see no one
on foot. No light shone from any cottage or villages nearby. He put
his hand on the hilt of his sword and tested the convenience of the
knife in his boot.

Confident that he could handle whatever
trouble might be lurking in the moon’s shadows, he turned his gaze
on the appearance of a horse and rider coming over the crest of a
hill to the east. They were still quite a few yards away, but the
drumming of his heart in his chest—more than the strength of his
vision—told him who the rider was.

The moon was over her shoulder. Woman and
horse presented a magnificent sight, and Nicholas found himself
swallowing hard. With her loose dark hair dancing in the wind and
her graceful body moving in harmony with the animal, she was surely
an apparition from his dreams. As she drew near, she slowed Mab to
a walk. With each step, Nicholas’s tongue knotted tighter in his
head, and his heart hammered louder in his chest. Her beautiful
eyes, shining in the darkness of night, studied him, appraised
him—and a different kind of tightness formed in his gut when she
reined Mab to a halt right beside him.

“You give an incredibly good chase, Sir
Nicholas.”

“You have the eyes of a cat.” His voice was
hoarse and low. “Have you been following me, Miss Jane?”

Her gaze studied his face with a longing
that scorched him—then it fell on his mouth. Nicholas’s hands
tightened around the horse’s reins, but he didn’t move.

“I have.”

“What do you want from me?”

She leaned toward him, her hand reaching
behind his neck. Drawing him to her, she stretched herself upward
until their lips met. Her mouth was soft and her tongue playful as
she teased and tasted him. Nicholas savored the pleasure of the
kiss, but his restraint was short-lived. Starved for her taste and
her touch, his arms reached for her as their mouths engaged in a
duel of passion. But just as he was about to pull her from her
horse and onto his lap, she ended the kiss. Mab took a couple of
steps back.

He eyed her across the short span between
them “This is a dangerous game you are playing.”

“I know.” She sounded breathless and it took
great effort on Nicholas’s part not to reach for her again.

“What was the kiss for?”

“To thank you for what you did for Rita and
for her children.”

Gratitude? That was no kiss of gratitude.
Suddenly, he wanted her to admit that the kiss was more about her
desire…passion…about the way she felt about him.

“Were you equally grateful to Reverend
Adams? He is helping that family, as well.”

“Do I hear a hint of suspicion, even
jealousy
, in your tone?” She smiled.

“I am just a simple person asking a simple
question.”

“There is nothing simple about you, Sir
Nicholas Spencer.” Her softly spoken words caressed and soothed.
“You have amazed me and surprised me and charmed me from the first
moment that we met.”

“Was that before or after I knocked you
down?”

“Very amusing.”

“Do you mean you didn’t kiss Parson
Adams?”

She laughed, and Nicholas found his mood
improving. “I did not. Not the way I kissed
you
, in any
case.”

Before he could ask the question about how
was it exactly that she had kissed the minister, Jane reined Mab
around and pointed at the hills to the south and west.

“If you are in no great hurry to get back to
Woodfield House, then I can properly thank you by showing you one
of the most interesting sights in Munster. And before you ask…” She
smiled at him. “—I’ve never taken Parson Adams to the stones at
Knocknakilla.”

“I should not have dreamed of asking.”
Nicholas brought his horse alongside hers as they started off.
“And, to be frank with you, Jane, if you are not at Woodfield
House, I haven’t any particular care
ever
to go back.”

Even in the darkness of the night he could
see the way the words affected her. She looked at him and, for a
moment, he thought she was about to reach her hand out to him. An
owl hooted somewhere in the distance, though, breaking the spell.
She smiled and turned her gaze to the western hills.

“Try to keep up, Spencer,” she said,
spurring Mab on. “‘Tis a good ride we have ahead of us, and I do
need to return you to my family at some reasonable hour.”

*****

While their horses grazed on the windswept
moor, they walked together toward the ancient circle of stones. The
stillness of the night, so perfect and complete, could not have
been more at odds with the turmoil going on within her.

The agitation Jane was feeling had nothing
to do with the man walking beside her. It had everything to do,
rather, with coming back to this place.

There had been certain things that had
remained sacred to her during the past nine years. She continued to
wear black. She had never allowed herself to become emotionally or
physically attracted to another man. She had foregone passion. And
she had never come back here.

There were other things that had remained
constant, too, for a rebel’s life is often cut short. She never
allowed herself to plan or dream of a future. She never wished for
things that she could never have. Love, family, children—none of
them had any place in Egan’s life.

And yet, being here now, surrounded by night
and the magic of the land…

For the first time in so many years, Jane
felt the growing ache of what might have been.

She placed a hand on one of the stones and
found it warm. Within it, she sensed the pulse of life.

“Is it not beautiful?” She filled her lungs
and, looking up at the blanket of stars, turned her back to the
breeze that came up at that moment.