Windswept Read online

  “No, you’d rather think me a thief and a murderess, which is why we’re taking this madcap journey. You do nothing by halves.”

  “If you don’t want to be regarded as a murderess, my dear, don’t behave as one.”

  He knew he’d struck a nerve when she flinched. “You didn’t think me capable of murder yesterday. Tell me, who was the woman who taught you that fine facades always hide treachery? Who of my ‘kind,’ as you so nicely put it this morning, convinced you that a woman of position and wealth can only be a saint or a sinner, never something in the middle?”

  He thought of Henrietta, so amiable and sweet until she’d decided he was beneath contempt. Damn it, Henrietta had never betrayed him. If anything, he’d betrayed her. “What makes you think this has to do with another woman?”

  “I’m trying to understand how you could make love to me with tenderness at night, then pronounce me a murderess the next morn.”

  “My reaction is normal, given that your deception was wholly unexpected.”

  “It couldn’t have been, or you wouldn’t have hidden your purpose for coming here. You must have been suspicious of me from the beginning.” She sucked in a deep breath. “Perhaps you never lost those suspicions. Perhaps you merely pretended to lose them last night, because you wanted to bed me before you packed me off to the authorities.”

  “Damn you to hell! You know I meant every word of what I said last night! I thought you a . . . a . . .”

  “An angel,” she finished for him. “The question is, what made you suddenly decide I was a devil?” She lowered her voice. “Why would my foolish mistakes so blind you to my true character, if not because some other woman betrayed you before?”

  “Not that it’s your business, but the only other women of your class I’ve known were angels. Lady Juliana, who essentially saved my life. And my former fiancée, who’d never contemplate an act of such deception as you perpetrated.”

  She blinked. “You were once engaged to be married?”

  “Yes.” He stared off at the grass-carpeted slopes. He shouldn’t have mentioned Henrietta, but he’d had enough of Catrin’s foolish suppositions. “We didn’t suit.”

  “Ah. So she’s the one who made you distrust ‘my kind.’ ”

  “Absolutely not.” He clenched his fists on the reins. “Henrietta broke off our engagement because of something I did. I well deserved her disdain.”

  “Why? Did you distrust her, too?”

  He avoided her unswerving gaze. “Yes. I behaved like a jealous fool once and scared her off. But Henrietta didn’t deserve my distrust. You do.”

  Her lips tightened as she stared at the road. “What will you do if we don’t reach Carmarthen before Quinley sails?”

  “Perish the thought.”

  “Will you take me to London then?” she persisted. “Will you drag me across the country in your thirst for vengeance?”

  “It’s a thirst for truth.” He looked grim. “And the only way to find out what really happened is to present Quinley with the new evidence and see if he can corroborate your story.”

  “Or prove me wrong.” She stiffened against his arm. “What if he decides I’m as guilty as you think? They will hang me, you know.”

  There was that horrible word again. She was using it on purpose to unsettle him. Unfortunately, it was working. “If you’re innocent, you needn’t worry.”

  She laid her hand on his chest. “How can you, a Welshman, have such faith in English law?”

  His gaze shot to her. Her eyes were as dark as the night waters of Llyn y Fan Fach, and her fear struck an answering fear in him.

  The English had always been quick to judge harshly, even with their own people, but when the offenders were Welsh or Irish or Scottish, it took little evidence to gain a conviction.

  “What if you’re wrong?” she whispered. “What if everything happened as I said? Once you give me to Quinley, it will be out of your hands. He was an English lord. I’m a Welsh nobody. Even if they find no witnesses or evidence, they’ll convict me, because they have no one else to blame.”

  A vivid image of a hooded man lowering a noose about Catrin’s neck sprang into his mind. Good God, how could he endure seeing her hanged? He forced himself to remember how Justin had looked lying in his own blood, but the picture blurred next to the one of Catrin on a scaffold.

  He cursed her for playing on his fears. “Stop talking of hanging. We’re merely presenting the facts to Quinley. He might decide you’re telling the truth.”

  “I don’t see how, when you’ve already tried and convicted me, based on nothing more than lies I told to protect myself from men like you.”

  Her fatalistic words chilled him to the marrow. What if he were wrong? What if she merely had been afraid to tell the truth in the beginning?

  The refrain tormented him as he urged the horse into a gallop. What if?

  He couldn’t go on the entire journey this way or he’d go mad. He must fall back on what had kept him sane as a child, through his father’s beatings. Literature. Other people’s words to drown out his own thoughts and feelings.

  Tacitus. Something from the histories.

  So while the horse rocked beneath them and Catrin’s scent assailed him, he tried to think of himself anywhere else as he recited in his mind, Etiam sapientibus cupido gloriae . . .

  Annie paced the common room after Catrin and Mr. Newcome had left. Who’d have guessed the man was a betraying wretch? After how he’d brooded over his inability to see Catrin the past few days, Annie had assumed he’d taken a fancy to the girl.

  Then there was the thrashing he’d given David Morys. After that, she’d assumed that Mr. Newcome’s pursuit of Catrin was honorable. She’d never dreamed he’d been planning to carry the poor lass off. And under suspicion of committing murder, no less!

  Something must be done about it. But what? Mr. Llewellyn, bless his soul, wouldn’t approve of her getting involved. And the only person who’d presumed to fight Mr. Newcome was—

  Of course! David would be willing to stop this. He’d wanted to marry the lass, after all.

  Her mind made up, she rushed to Llanddeusant’s school. She found David at his desk, poring over a pile of papers. “Mr. Newcome has taken Catrin off!”

  “What?”

  “You know that investigator who was here yesterday asking questions? He thinks she had something to do with a murder in London, and apparently Mr. Newcome is the one who set the man on her. I’m not sure of the details, but Catrin and Mr. Newcome showed up at the inn this morning, looking for the investigator. When I told them the man had already left for Carmarthen, Mr. Newcome said he and Catrin were going to follow him. Then he rode off with her on his horse!”

  The blood drained from David’s face. “Did she want to go?”

  “I don’t think so. I think she felt she had no other choice.”

  With a curse, David opened a desk drawer and pulled out a flintlock pistol.

  “Good Lord, what are you doing with a pistol?” Mrs. Llewellyn asked.

  “It was my father’s.” He stuffed it in his coat pocket along with a bag of powder and shot.

  “What are you planning to do with it?”

  “Get Catrin back, of course.” He rounded the desk.

  “But if you shoot Mr. Newcome, they’ll come looking for you next!”

  “I won’t have to shoot him. If I wave this pistol in his face, he’ll give her up, don’t you worry. That bastard won’t be so smug when looking down the barrel of a flintlock.” He donned his hat and gloves, then left the study.

  She ran after him. “Yes, but what will you do once you wrest her away? They can simply send someone else here after her.”

  He paused, and the coldness in his black eyes made her shiver. “And what would you suggest?”

  “I . . . I don’t know. Go with her to London, I suppose, and make sure they treat her fairly.”

  “If she makes it to London, no one will treat her fairly. You can b
e sure of that.”

  He stalked across the schoolroom, and she hurried after him. The pistol worried her. She didn’t want David to kill anyone, even Mr. Newcome. She held her tongue until they were out of earshot of the students. “Perhaps you shouldn’t take the pistol. What if you get into a fight and he wrests it away from you?”

  That was the wrong thing to say. “He won’t.” A muscle worked in his jaw as he saddled his horse. “I’ll take care of this problem. I’ll get Catrin back, make no mistake.” He mounted the horse and gathered up the reins. “Once I’m through with Newcome, that bastard will rue the day he was born.”

  Then, with a click of his tongue, he rode away.

  Annie stared after him, feeling uneasy. A jealous man with a pistol could be dangerous. Had it been wise of her to arouse his fury?

  She only prayed he knew how to use the gun properly and could indeed intimidate Mr. Newcome merely by threatening him with the weapon.

  Because if not, they might be carrying Catrin home in a coffin.

  15

  Catrin stared ahead at the road. She could feel every virile, unyielding inch of her tormentor. His arm occasionally brushed her spine and his hard chest pressed against her shoulder. She couldn’t escape the memory of how that chest had felt beneath her splayed fingers, how that thigh had parted her legs so—

  A pox on the man! Couldn’t she forget what they’d shared?

  Never. It was all she’d thought of for the last few hours, since they’d spent the day in total silence.

  Normally she welcomed silence, her haven from Grandmother’s harping and the neighbors’ whispered comments. But this silence was a brutal chasm stretching between them, and there was no way to breach it.

  A tear snaked down her cheek, and she wiped it away furiously, praying he hadn’t seen it. She’d tried to lose herself in the sunlight skipping off the rain-speckled rocks, and Black Mountain looking more like a benevolent regent than a scowling tyrant. But the beauty seemed to mock her, for who knew how long it would be before she experienced it again?

  Another tear trickled down her cheek, and she didn’t bother to wipe it away. Despite the scenery, the ride had been long and tiring. Evan was obsessed with reaching Carmarthen before Mr. Quinley left. There’d been nothing to eat but the mutton and bread Mrs. Llewellyn had given them, which they’d devoured hours ago, so now Catrin’s stomach rumbled continually.

  But Evan showed no signs of hunger. That was what had made the day most horrible—Evan’s eerie control. She might have thought him carved of oak, so stiffly did he suffer her nearness. How could this cold statue have made love to her with fire and fury?

  Well, she’d had enough of his brooding. Night was falling, and they were nowhere near Carmarthen. Surely Mr. Quinley had already boarded his ship. How long did Evan intend to continue this?

  “Where are we?” she asked.

  “Two hours from Carmarthen.”

  The rumble of his voice hit her hard. She struggled to hide her emotions. “You intend to go on even after dark.”

  “I intend to go on until we reach Carmarthen.”

  “But surely it’s dangerous at night, with highwaymen and—”

  “There’s never been a highwayman on this stretch of road. Rhys Vaughan makes sure of that.”

  “We’re near the Vaughan estate, then?”

  “Llynwydd. Yes.” His words were clipped, but she could hear the weariness beneath them. “We just passed the drive leading to it.”

  She craned her head to look past his shoulder. In the dying light, she could just make out a road cutting off from the main one. “Don’t you want to stop and visit?” She didn’t know if she could stand two more hours of being so close to him . . . and so very, very far.

  “I want to reach Carmarthen on the slim chance that Quinley is still there.”

  “Yes, but the Vaughans would at least have food.”

  “We’ll eat in Carmarthen.”

  That was the last straw. Before he could realize what she was doing, she grabbed the reins out of his hand and began to turn the horse back the way they’d come.

  “Deuce take it, what are you doing?” he growled.

  “I’m hungry and tired, and I’m not moving another inch without food.”

  “You’ll do as I say!” he bit out, snatching the reins from her.

  “Don’t be so stubborn!” She fought to regain control of the horse. “You know quite well that the ships set sail before sundown. There’s no reason to continue this journey without sustenance or rest!”

  They were both so intent on their struggle that they didn’t hear the hoofbeats until a voice called, “Ho, there! Stand to!”

  Catrin froze. “I thought you said there were no highwaymen on this road,” she hissed as the rider approached.

  With a low oath, Evan tried to reestablish control over his horse, but by the time he had, the man who’d hailed them had caught up to them.

  When Catrin saw who it was, relief flooded her. “Thank heaven, it’s only David.”

  Evan slipped his hand around her waist in an oddly protective gesture. “What the deuce is he doing here?”

  “I don’t know.”

  David scowled as he took in how Evan held Catrin pressed to his chest. “You’ve led me a merry chase today. My horse isn’t used to such hard riding.”

  “So why did you follow us?” Evan snapped.

  “Because I couldn’t let you carry Catrin off. I’ve come to bring her home.”

  Evan’s body tensed against hers. “What makes you think she wants to go home? She rejected you once already, you know.”

  His jealous tone shocked Catrin. She’d assumed he no longer cared.

  “I know everything, Newcome,” David bit out, “so stop pretending that this is some elopement. You’re taking her off to be hanged. So I’m sure she’ll be more than happy to come with me.”

  “She’s not going to be hanged, and she’s certainly not going anywhere with you,” Evan stated as he urged the horse into a walk.

  David rode up ahead to block the road. To Catrin’s shock, he withdrew a pistol and pointed it straight at Evan’s head. “I’m afraid you don’t have a say.”

  With a curse, Evan halted the horse.

  “David, you can’t mean to use that!” Catrin cried.

  “Get off the horse, Catrin,” David said. “I won’t risk shooting you.”

  “I don’t want you to shoot anyone!”

  “Get off the horse.” This time the command came from Evan.

  She glanced up into his stony face. “Wh-what?”

  His eyes never left the pistol. “I don’t know if Morys can use that thing, but I can’t risk him hitting you.”

  Yet he would apparently risk being shot himself. “I’m not getting off. He’ll kill you!”

  Next thing she knew, she was sprawled on the ground. Evan had pushed her off and was now dancing his mare away from her.

  She sprang to her feet, terror gripping her. Now David would surely fire. Lunging forward, she grabbed Evan’s leg.

  “Deuce take it, Catrin!” Evan said as he tried to shake her loose. “Let go!”

  David swung the pistol back and forth, his face ashen as he gauged the shot.

  If only Evan had a sword or a pistol or—

  Something hard swung against her arm—the saddlebag containing the chalice. If she could just get close enough to hit David with it . . .

  Hooking one arm firmly around Evan’s leg, she slid her free hand into the saddlebag to withdraw the chalice, praying that David wouldn’t notice. Fortunately, he was too busy watching the mare swerve from side to side.

  “Move away from him, Catrin!” David growled. “Blast it, I can’t get a clear shot with you there!”

  Frantically, Catrin tried to think of a plan. Grandmother would have managed some spectacular maneuver to get David’s weapon away and protect Evan. All she could think of was to get behind David and hit him with the chalice. But he’d have to dismount
, and how on earth would she coax him into doing that?

  With a wary eye on both men, she let go of Evan’s leg and headed for David. “I’ll go with you! Just don’t shoot Evan!”

  “The bloody bastard deserves to die!” David spat.

  She tried to sound soothing. “But it’ll be worse if you kill him. If we let him go, they won’t come after us. It won’t be worth tracking us into the mountains.”

  She hardly knew what she was babbling; she only prayed it would keep David from shooting until she could get him off that horse.

  It didn’t help that David was suspicious. “You’d run away with me? I thought you didn’t want me.”

  “That was before I knew what a . . . a low bastard Mr. Newcome would prove to be. And before you so bravely came to rescue me.”

  Evan’s eyes were the color of black ice as he watched her edge closer to David. “Running away again, Catrin? Afraid that this ‘low bastard’ might get the truth from you eventually?”

  She ignored his cutting words, sidling ever nearer to David. Her heart thundered in her chest, but she kept moving, slow and easy so she wouldn’t spook David’s horse. A step to the left. A half-turn. Another step. David couldn’t watch both her and Evan, and as long as he kept his eyes on Evan, she might reach him.

  “Tell me, Catrin,” Evan said bitterly, “was Morys one of the men you took to London with you? He seems awfully eager to use that pistol in your defense.”

  “What’s he talking about, the men you took to London?” David asked. “I thought you went alone?”

  Mentally, she cursed Evan. “Of course I went alone.” She forced tears to her eyes. It wasn’t hard to do under the circumstances. “You don’t know what a beast Mr. Newcome has been. He’s been saying all these awful things . . .”

  David steadied his aim again. “The bastard! I’ll kill him!”

  “No!” She took the last few steps to his horse and grabbed the reins. “Please, just take me away.” She managed a petulant pout. “If you shoot him, I won’t run away with you. In my situation, I can’t risk being linked to a known murderer.”

  David held his free hand down to her. “Come on up, then.”