Three Heroes (98 page)

“Are you sure?” Con asked. “I told Kerslake to check this area to see if it would be practical to rebuild the road here.”

“Then why did he hide in that ruin?”

“Zeus, if someone was shooting at me, I’d hide in whatever cover was available. I’m sure you’ve done the same many a time.”

“But ...” Gifford looked at Con, tears of fury in his eyes.

“You are not entirely wrong, Gifford,” Con said softly, “though you lost my sympathy by your dishonorable behavior toward a woman who had shown you nothing but kindness. But be assured that you will have the complete enmity of the Earl of Wyvern if you disturb his people here.”

“It is my job to disturb smugglers, my lord, and in these parts everyone is a damn smuggler! And Kerslake is that blackguard, Captain Drake!”

“Choose your targets, Gifford. Choose your targets. Captain Drake—whoever he may be—and the Dragon’s Horde have the support and cooperation of everyone in these parts. It’s been that way for generations. The Blackstock Gang to the west and Tom Merriwether’s Boys to the east, however, are universally feared. They’ve both been known to flog men to death for crossing them, and rape women who get in their way. They flog and rape for amusement as well. One or the other murdered your predecessor, not the Dragon’s Horde.”

Gifford’s lip curled. “Know that for a fact, do you?”

“I know their ways. Go after the other gangs and you’ll get support. We learned in the Peninsula that a war can be won or lost on the goodwill of the local people.”

Gifford whirled and marched over to his grazing horse. “I’ll do you an ill turn if I can!” he declared as he mounted.

“Unwise to say something like that before witnesses,” Hawk pointed out. “You’d better hope that Lord Wyvern doesn’t suffer any kind of accident, hadn’t you?”

Almost steaming, Gifford wrenched his horse’s head around cruelly and spurred off.

Con pulled a face. “I feel somewhat sorry for him, but there’s no place for personal vendettas in this.”

They watched as Gifford raced inland until he could cross the slip, then hurtled down to berate his men and drag them away from temptation. He stopped his horse to look into the chapel, obviously hoping to find some contraband there, then glared around the area.

“Doesn’t give up easily, does he?” Hawk said. “Shame, really. In wartime he’d probably be a hero.”

Con noted that the two extra “women” had now slipped away, leaving the innocent intruders and David Kerslake. There also seemed to be a great deal of cider-fueled merriment.

“Let’s go down and sort out our company.”

When they arrived where Race and Susan were laughing together, he said, “Have you two made up?”

With a wicked smile, Race pulled her into his arms and kissed her. “My love! Forgive me.”

In return, Susan bent Race backward for what seemed to be a ravishing kiss. When she straightened him, she said, “Only if you promise to behave.”

“Sweetheart,” Race fluttered, “I’m yours in all things.”

Con felt a spurt of irrational jealousy. He knew neither of them was serious, but what if Susan did find another man to love? He had no right to mind, but it cut like a knife.

The thought of Lady Anne and him had to hurt her as grievously.

“How’s David?” he asked deliberately, to turn her mind to other things.

She sobered and came over to him. “Not too bad. A ball in the shoulder, but not deep. What’s Gifford going to do now?”

“Absolutely nothing, if he has any sense.” He told her what had happened.

Her smile was brilliant. “Wickedly clever! As you say, now he’ll have to be careful about any moves he makes around here. I do wish David would accept the idea of being the earl, though.”

“Let’s go and put it to him. This might have made it more attractive.”

Nicholas and Hawk had gathered the children. Nicholas seemed to have confiscated the cider from the women as well. Con went over to where Amelia was finishing bandaging David Kerslake.

“Damn fool. Broad daylight?”

The younger man looked up, unabashed. “Creative thinking. Gifford’s been all over this area with extra troops at night. I tried to bring the tea in here last night, but a navy ship came close. So I had it dropped as floaters. You know what that means?”

“Weighted so it rides just under the water with a marker on top. Seaweed or something like that.”

“Right. We waited until Gifford was away from here, then brought ‘round a couple of boats to haul them in and bring them to shore. Gifford and his men have been up all night the last few nights. They should have been fast asleep!”

“How did you get shot?”

“A boatman called for me to halt. I hoped he was bluffing.”

“David!” Susan exclaimed. “You’re lucky you’re not dead.”

“Lucky he was trying to kill me, you mean,” Kerslake said with a grin. “The chance of Saul Cogley actually hitting his target is remote.”

Con shook his head. “Have you had time to think about the earldom? It would make this sort of thing a great deal easier, I assure you.”

Kerslake winced as Amelia tightened the bandage. She looked cross, too.

“It’s not a burden a man of twenty-four wants,” he said, pulling a face. “Since I would be living here, I’d have to host a plaguey number of events and take part in county affairs. Then there’s London and Parliament, for heaven’s sake.”

“The price of leadership,” Con said without sympathy.

“Damn you.”

“And you didn’t even mention the fact that you’ll instantly become a prize trophy in the marriage hunt.”

“Didn’t you say you wanted me to accept it?” But Kerslake sighed. “I don’t really have any choice, do I, if I’m going to do the best for my people here.”

Con noted that “my people” with a slight smile. Yes, willing or not, David Kerslake would be good for this area.

“Help me up, will you?” Kerslake asked, and Con supported him. “I wrenched my knee as well, which was another reason I couldn’t make a break for it. Very well, damn you,” he added as soon as he was standing. “I’ll try to prize the earldom from your clutching fingers. As you said, Susan, Mel will be cock-a-hoop over it if it works.”

Susan came to hug him and for a moment Con could steal a hug, too.

Then he pulled apart.

This truly was the end. He could leave Crag Wyvern immediately. Perhaps even ride over to stay at Nicholas’s place today.

Never have reason to return.

So be it.

After one last shared look with Susan, he turned his mind to the logistics of getting Kerslake back to Church Wyvern. Carry him over the rocks, or use one of Nicholas’s and Hawk’s horses and go the long way around?

He chose the latter course, and helped Kerslake into the saddle. Hawk prepared to mount to go with him, but then Race spoke up, in the arch, feminine manner that went with his disguise.

“My dear sirs, I do hope I can depend upon you for protection.”

“What?” Con asked, sharing a look with Nicholas and Hawk.

“I have a little sin to confess,” Race said, digging flirtatiously in his plump bosom.

Con suppressed an urge toward minor violence. “Race, this is no time for idiocy.”

“Well really, my lord! That is rather a case of the pot calling the kettle dirty. Here.” He pulled out a rolled-up paper and offered it, limp-wristed.

It was a letter of some sort. Con took it impatiently, but then his heart stopped. It beat again, it thundered, as he broke the seal and scanned it. It was! It was the letter he’d written to Lady Anne a lifetime ago.

Three days ago.

“Devil take you!” He glared at Race, not sure whether to throttle him or kiss him. “What right have you to hold back my letters?”

“The right of a friend,” Race said in a normal manner. “I didn’t read it, but Diego and I decided it couldn’

t be urgent and might be unwise. Send it now if you want.”

Con looked again at his fateful words, thinking for a moment of Lady Anne. He was certain there was no grand passion there, but he must have raised hopes. He was truly fond of her. Not fond enough, however, to sacrifice everything now he had a second chance.

He looked at Susan who was staring at him as if afraid to believe. “I mentioned writing to a lady....”

The last trace of color left her cheeks. “Con?”

Eyes on her, he ripped the letter into tiny shreds and let the breeze tumble them across the headland and into the endless sea.

“By a miracle,” he said, “I have hope of winning you for my wife, Susan, for my friend, my helpmeet all my days.”

Susan had so firmly sealed off hope that now she could not quite believe. “Con ... ?” she asked again, reaching tentatively toward him.

He met her and took her hand, strong, firm, real. She wasn’t dreaming.

“I’m not committed, Susan. I’m free....” Then his eyes twinkled. “Oh dear, you’ve changed your mind.

Race’s luscious figure has—”

She threw herself into his arms to be swept up, to be swung around and around in the clean air and sunshine.

Then they kissed.

With scarcely a thought to their audience, they kissed as never before, because this time, after so long, it promised true eternity.

It was hard to stop kissing, to unseal their bodies for even a moment, but they slowly parted, smiling, blushing under the interested eyes of friends, family, and neighbors.

“‘Don’t tell me you were sacrificing yourself for the honor of the Rogues, Con,” Delaney said.

“It wouldn’t have been a dire sacrifice.” He turned to look at Susan, a look that made her breath catch and her toes curl. “Then.”

She sensed his honorable concern and drew him close. “If Lady Anne is as good a person as you say, love, she’ll find her true mate. Someone who loves her as we love.”

Numbness, then delirium were turning into urgent purpose. “When can we marry?” she demanded.

His expression showed the same needs. “It is for you to name the day.”

“Today?”

He laughed unsteadily. “I don’t think even an earl can quite manage that.” He brushed his lips close to her ear. “And though I desire you here and now, beloved, I want to celebrate our love with May blossoms, and ribbons, and grain thrown in promise of a bountiful future....”

She turned her head to meet his lips in a kiss. “A normal wedding?” How had he known before she knew how much she wanted that? “How long will it take?”

“I have no idea. If we set Hawk to organizing it, it can doubtless be done in brisk military efficiency.”

She laughed and turned to look at the major, but found that their audience was courteously moving away, leaving them blessedly alone.

Miraculously they had forever, but these first moments were a jewellike treasure.

Hands linked, they wandered to look down on Irish Cove, then sat together there in one another’s arms, in silent wonder.

“I still can’t quite believe it,” she said at last, turning to him, unable to resist raising a hand to touch his face, to trace the beloved lines of his face. “I longed for a miniature of you once, you know.” She told him about the one his brother had brought to Kerslake Manor.

He trapped her hand and kissed the palm, slowly, lids lowered. “I had no picture of you. I tried to tell myself that I didn’t want one, but it was a lie.”

“Con, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Hush,” he whispered against her skin. “Hush, love. Right or wrong it’s all in the past, and who can say if it will not be better now, from this beginning? What did those children know of life, of temptation, of faltering steps and brave recoveries?”

He looked at her, smiling. No, more than smiling, adoring. Her tears began to flow.

“I know women have this damnable habit of crying when they’re happy,” he said, “but please don’t, love.

Listen to my words. You, as you are, with all your past, both good and bad, are perfect to me now. That is the Susan I love beyond words to express it.”

She did her best to swallow the tears. “I can’t imagine better words.” She took his hand and kissed it. “I have always loved you, but I adore the man you are now, tested and true. I feel drunk with it, as if I could leap off this cliff and fly!”

He pinned her to the ground. “No, you don’t!”

So like that first night, but now everything was different. It turned into a kiss. It turned into more, sprawled there on the rough greenery above Irish Cove, but they did not make love. They drew apart in the end, though seething with hunger.

“Cold water,” she said, glancing at the sea. “I hear it’s a good cure for this.”

He leaped to his feet and took her hand to pull her up. “There’s no cure for this save death, love. Let’s go to your home and see how quickly a decorous wedding can be arranged.”

With a license and many willing hands, it took only days, and could likely have been quicker except for the time needed for Con’s family to travel from Sussex.

Van escorted them, and brought along his bride-to-be, Mrs. Celestine, as well. Susan understood that the matter had been uncertain, but no one could doubt the love and veiled passion between them now.

“I confess,” said Mrs. Celestine, on greeting her, “you make me regret my setting a date some weeks from now.”

She was an elegant, composed woman—except when Lord Vandeimen made her blush. Susan sensed genuine warmth in her, however. It was pleasant to think of them as neighbors and friends.

“I wanted a grand celebration in Van’s home,” Mrs. Celestine said. “A homecoming. A new start. A way for me to begin to belong, I hope. Please say you will take part, even though your wedding is to be here.”

Susan took her hands with true gratitude. “That is so generous of you, Mrs. Celestine. Are you sure you won’t mind? I confess, the idea of going to live among strangers daunts me.”

The older woman smiled. “Van and I are not strangers. Nor is Major Hawkinville. Nor is Lord Wyvern’s family.”

Susan had already been warmly accepted by Con’s mother and sister, and knew the words were true.

She would not be going to live among strangers. Venturing forth into the world did still make her a little nervous, but it was becoming a more anticipated adventure day by day.

On the eve of their wedding, however, as they strolled in the orchard, Con said, “Somerford Court is not by the sea.”