Chapter Twenty-Three

 

 

“I should apologize,” said Paul as he walked Harriet down the FitzArden driveway. “But to be honest, I don’t think I can.”

Harriet, still giddy from their kiss, glanced at him from beneath the hood of her cloak. “Then don’t.”

“I’m glad I kissed you,” he said with a measure of pride. “I’ve been considering it for quite some time.”

“Really?”

“Of course.” He neared her and took her hand, locking his arm around hers, holding them close to each other. “You’re a very desirable woman, you know.”

She gave a wry chuckle. “Up until recently, Paul, my desirability was solely based on my potential income.”

He sighed. “I understand. And it makes me exceedingly angry that you were so badly treated.” They walked on. “Would you like me to have your aunt and uncle…er…disposed of?”

“What?” She nearly stumbled at his words, grateful he was holding on to her so tightly.

His teeth flashed white as he smiled at her. “I could, you know. I have the right contacts. Nobody would be any the wiser.”

“You really are a pirate at heart, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely,” he agreed. “That’s a most astute observation.”

“No regard for rules,” she walked slowly but steadily beside him.

“None whatsoever.”

“You will do what you think is right,” she continued. “Just like Blackbeard.”

“Well, not quite as adventurous, but I’m not adverse to a bit of plundering now and again.”

“Pillaging too?” Harriet smiled.

He thought for a moment. “Possibly. Although I believe I’d be a better plunderer than pillager.” He drew them to a halt. “May I practice?”

She blinked. “Er…practice what?”

“Plundering,” he answered, pulling her close. “I fancy plundering your lips again.”

Which he did, thoroughly, and with Harriet’s complete support. He was so warm, and gentle, but also quite determined, which thrilled her to her toes.

This time, his tongue slid along her lips, seeking entry. And instead of her previous responses, which had all been to jerk away and cry out, Harriet found herself willingly obeying Paul, opening her mouth and welcoming his intrusion.

The kiss ended on a moan, but whether from him or her she wasn’t sure.

She had to stop this, behaving so disgracefully. But by God, she didn’t want to.

Finally, they parted, but she found she couldn’t quite let go. Not yet. So she simply leaned against him and let him tuck her head beneath his chin.

“We’re a good fit, Harry,” he observed.

The rumbling of his chest as he spoke amused her. And he was so warm. “Yes we are. Here, now, in the bitter cold of a snowy night.” She sighed and stepped back. “But in the clear light of day, we both know it’s not such a good fit.”

He sighed too. “I will get my name cleared, you know.”

“And I will get my inheritance. What’s left of it.”

“So until then, we can’t be like this? Hold each other? Share a kiss or two?” Paul linked their arms once more, sharing their body heat as the air continued to cool and the snow thickened around them.

“We should not.” She glanced at him. “For I think we both know that to do so would be to tempt fate. Now is not the time for either of us to embark on such a course.”

He was silent for several minutes, as they made their way along the path. It was more difficult now, since the snow covered some of the roots and stones that threatened to trip them. Harriet wondered if he was simply trying to keep his footing or if he was pondering her words.

The latter turned out to be true. “I hate to agree, but you’re right. The timing is appalling.”

She fought the sting of tears at the back of her eyes. “I don’t know how long I will be here. At Ridlington. That’s up to Letitia, I suppose.”

“And the way things are going, there’ll be a wedding in the offing soon, I’d say.”

Harriet chuckled. “Don’t be so sure about that.”

“Are you jesting? Do you really think James would spend the night with a woman and then not offer for her?”

“He may offer all he wants,” said Harriet. “But it doesn’t mean she’ll accept.”

Paul turned his head to look at her, and stumbled, tripping and almost falling but catching himself on her arm at the very last moment. He pulled hard as he staggered, but she managed to keep her footing.

And nearly lost it when a shot rang out, startling her and making an owl screech loudly in the trees.

“Down,” whispered Paul, dragging her to the ground beside him.

“What the devil…”

“Shush. Quiet now.”

They lay there, silent, the snow falling on them, for what seemed like years. Harriet began to shiver as her skirts dampened and allowed the cold to reach her calves above her boots.

The silence returned, a muffled hush broken only by the occasional plop of snow from a branch to the ground beneath. She turned in Paul’s arms and moved her head near to his. “Can we get up now, do you think?”

He nodded. “We cannot lie here all night…my hope is that whoever took that shot has either realized his mistake or didn’t know we were here at all.”

“Let’s hope for the latter.” She gathered her clothing as Paul sat up and shook the snow off his cloak.

He froze and pushed her down as they both heard footsteps approaching.

“Mr. DeVoreaux… are you there? Are you all right?”

“Good God.” Paul stood up. “Hodgkins? Is that you?”

“Aye, sir.” The man appeared out of the snowfall, a dark shadow resolving itself into the face and figure of the driver. “I heard the shot and followed your footsteps.”

“Did you see anyone?” asked Harriet, rising to her feet. “Or hear anyone? Was that shot an accident?”

“Not a soul, Ma’am. Just the sound of the gunshot. Rifle, if I’m not mistaken.”

“I agree,” said Paul as he turned to make sure Harriet was all right.

“Paul.” She gulped.

“What?”

“Your jacket. It’s damp. And I don’t think it’s snow…”

He looked down, and then swayed. “Well I’ll be damned. I’m shot…”

 

*~~*~~*

 

The sun was trying to peek above the horizon when James and Letitia departed FitzArden Hall on the mount James had fetched from the stables at first light. He might have been noticed, but since there were so few grooms in the stable, he felt it was worth the risk.

She sat in front of him, sharing the horse, since it made more sense than riding two horses and either borrowing a stablehand from Ridlington or leaving the second horse there.

Plus, she admitted to herself that she was more comfortable where she was. A ride, short though it was, might have taxed her tender lower portions. She and James had awoken twice during the night, and she confessed to a certain degree of discomfort after such an energetic few hours.

He held the reins with one hand and her waist with the other, encouraging her to lean against him for balance. Which she was happy to do. It was an odd time, almost unreal, with the rising sun burning its way redly into the sky and announcing with the brilliant blast of colour that more bad weather was probably on the way.

The forest was unusually quiet under its new blanket of snow, and even the birds seemed loth to leave their nests on this chilly morning.

James was a source of warmth and her head fit perfectly into his shoulder, just as his arm fit perfectly around her waist.

Wrapped in their cloaks, they were content to let the horse pick its way down the paths, silently enjoying this moment of private enchantment. At least Letitia felt it was enchanted.

Her body might have been sore, but her mind was elated; she’d found the pleasures of the flesh to be just that. Most pleasurable. James was everything she could have asked for in a lover, and already her mind was spinning around how to introduce these experiences fully into her next novel.

A squeeze of her waist attracted her attention.

“We’re nearly there. Shall we ride to the front?”

“No, I think the kitchen entrance would make more sense…wait…” She frowned. There were lights showing in the conservatory, one of the larger rooms they had yet to restore. “That’s odd. I know Harry was to return through there, but there shouldn’t be lights at this time of the morning. Not in there.” She glanced up at James. “Can you take us around to that door?”

He nodded, guiding the horse through narrow garden paths to the terrace outside the large and un-curtained conservatory windows.

Dismounting, James helped her slide down into his arms. “All right, love?”

Worried, she barely noticed his endearment. “Yes, thank you.” She tried to see through the glass but the inside was foggy. “I don’t understand.”

“Well, let’s see if we can find out what’s happening.” He tied the horse to a shrub and they both walked up to the French doors.

Which opened as soon as they reached them.

“Oh my God,” breathed Letitia, as she walked into chaos. “What the devil…”

Rosaline hurried over. “It’s Paul. He was shot walking Harriet home.”

“Good God.” James closed the conservatory door behind him. “What happened? How is he?”

“Sore, I’ll tell you that.”

The voice emanated from a threadbare and moth-eaten sofa near the fireplace, where a small fire provided some heat to an otherwise icy room. There were bowls of water and unpleasantly stained towels on several tables.

“Paul…” Letitia rushed to his side. “How bad is it?”

“Bastard winged me. Right through my upper arm.” He gestured to the bandage around one forearm with his other hand. “Hurt like the devil, though, I will admit.”

“He was very brave,” said Harriet, walking into the room with a fresh bowl of water and bandages just in time to hear his comment. “He didn’t even know he was shot until I noticed the blood.”

Rosaline took the bowl from Harriet. “We’ve been trying to make sure the wound is clean and free of any debris. Also that he didn’t develop a fever right away. A long few hours, I have to admit. So let’s have one final clean up, Paul, then you can finally rest. You just need a bandage now, I think.”

Paul rolled his eyes and cast a desperate look at James. “Must we, Rosaline?”

“Yes. Stop complaining.” She shot an amused look at Letitia. “You know, we might consider redoing this room as a hospital. This is the second time we’ve treated a gunshot wound here.”

“Oh, I remember. Tom somebody or other,” nodded Letitia. “Yes, let’s not make a habit of it.”

“Letitia…” Harriet came to her side. “You saw nothing on the way here this morning?”

Noticing how pale Harriet was, Letitia took her arm and led her to a side chair. “No, just a magnificent sunrise. It was very quiet. Sit, Harry. Your lack of colour is frightening.”

“She hasn’t slept, Letitia, and…ouch…” Paul called over during his treatment.

Rosaline looked up. “Darling, have Chidwell get some breakfast put together in the salon, would you? They must be up and about by now. Tea, toast, whatever they have. We all need to eat, then Paul must rest and Harry has to sleep.”

A man who had remained silent in one corner, stepped forward. “Do you need me anymore, Ma’am?” He addressed Rosaline.

She nodded. “Yes, Hodgkins, I do.” She finished administering ointment to Paul’s wound and began to bandage it. “I need you to tell us all exactly what happened, and how you came to be on hand. Also I need you to take tea and breakfast with us.”

“Uh…” He seemed nonplussed at Rosaline’s determined tone, “Well…”

“That’s settled then,” she concluded the conversation by standing, and addressing James. “You and Letitia can leave your cloaks somewhere and meet us in the parlour. I’d rather have this story told once, instead of ten times over.” She wiped her forehead with her hand. “Go everyone. I need tea.” She glanced around. “Trust Edmund to be away. He’ll be so cross he missed the excitement.”