Windswept Page 23

  “Men are such fools!” Juliana said with an expression of disgust. “When it comes to love, do you think women care about things like position and money?” She came up to lay her hand on his shoulder. “Catrin is a wonderful woman, and I don’t believe she cares at all about your background.”

  “Then why did she flee just now? A woman in love would have remained with me until I got the words out.”

  “Perhaps, perhaps not. But I wouldn’t assume she’s rejecting you. If she really means so much to you, go find out what’s troubling her, instead of sitting here sulking.”

  He glared at her. “Thank you for your unwanted advice, but I know Catrin better than you do.”

  With a shrug, she headed for the door. “Fine, do as you wish. Give up on the one woman who suits you and cares for you.” She stopped in the doorway to fix him with a haughty glance. “But don’t blame me for your broken heart. I don’t regret meddling, and I believe I picked the right woman for you. I just underestimated your ability to hold on to her.” Then she stalked from the room.

  Evan let out an explosive curse. He should never have told Juliana what had happened between him and Catrin. Deuce take her, she was wrong! Catrin had obviously stayed by his bedside out of an overdeveloped sense of guilt for what had happened to him. If she’d been in love with him, as Juliana claimed, she wouldn’t have left when he’d started talking about marriage.

  He settled into the chair with a scowl. This was one time Juliana would be forced to acknowledge that she’d made a mistake.

  Unfortunately.

  19

  ·fter Juliana’s talk with Evan last night, she’d tried not to meddle. She’d done nothing when Mrs. Price had sent down a message saying she was too tired to come to dinner. She’d kept her peace when Evan spent the evening brooding in his room and not eating any of the food he’d called for so eagerly.

  She’d even restrained herself from acting when a servant told her this morning that Evan had called for a bottle of brandy in the middle of the night, “to dull the pain in his shoulder and help him sleep.” Hah! She knew exactly what pain he wanted to dull, and it wasn’t in his shoulder.

  But now that Sally stood here telling her that Mrs. Price was preparing to return to Llynwydd and wanted her old clothes back, Juliana had had enough.

  She rose. “Thank you, Sally. I’ll take care of it.”

  “What are you going to do?” Rhys asked as Juliana turned for the door.

  “Talk some sense into Mrs. Price.”

  “Maybe you should keep out of it,” Rhys warned. “Let the two of them work out their problems.”

  She glared at him, her irritation with Evan getting the better of her. “I’m surprised you noticed that they were having problems, or even that they were interested in each other. Men are usually stupid about such things.”

  Rhys raised an eyebrow. “Not always. And yes, I’ve noticed that Evan turns into a puddle of mush around Mrs. Price. And vice versa, I might add.”

  “Turning into puddles of mush is all very well, but at the moment, those two puddles are being stubborn, and I think it’s time a third party made certain they don’t go their separate ways and live the rest of their lives in misery.”

  “You’re the third party, of course,” he said dryly.

  “Don’t even think of trying to stop me.” She shot him a quelling glance. “I left it up to them yesterday, and they bungled it. Now it’s time to see that matters come out right.” She paused, then added, “Oh, and you’d best prepare to go to town.”

  “To town?” He looked blank. “Why?”

  “Because when I get through with them, they’ll need some privacy. So we’re going to Carmarthen for the day. The whole family. Margaret has been begging for a new dress and Owen has been itching to visit with Edgar now that he’s home from university, so we might as well get that done.”

  After that pronouncement, she swept from the room. Although she heard Rhys laugh behind her, the fact that he didn’t try to dissuade her meant he knew she was right. Something must be done about this situation.

  When she reached the hall between Evan’s and Mrs. Price’s rooms, she hesitated, but it was clear which one she must work on first, since saying her piece to Evan last night had done no good. So she knocked on Mrs. Price’s door.

  When Mrs. Price opened it, her face reflected her surprise. “Good morning, Lady Juliana.”

  Juliana took one look at Mrs. Price’s tears and knew she’d made the right decision. “May I come in?”

  Dully, the woman nodded and stepped aside to let Juliana enter.

  Juliana closed the door. “Sally told me you want to leave this morning, so I thought I’d see if everything is all right.”

  Turning away, Mrs. Price said in a strained voice, “Everything . . . is fine.”

  “I can tell. Your eyes are the color of poppies, a sure sign that matters are going well.”

  Mrs. Price stiffened. “Please, Lady Juliana. I prefer not to talk about it.”

  “Very well. But I thought you should know that Evan is sitting in that room across the hall, convinced that you won’t marry him because of his lowly background.”

  There. She’d meddled to the highest degree, and she didn’t care.

  This time it took Mrs. Price several minutes to speak, but Juliana could tell she was crying. “It’s better that way,” she whispered.

  Juliana’s temper rose. Merciful heavens, the woman was as stubborn as he was. “You can’t let Evan go on thinking he’s not worth marrying, especially if you have some other reason for refusing him!”

  “As I said, I don’t wish to discuss it.”

  “Oh, but I do. Sit down, Mrs. Price.”

  “I will not di—”

  “Sit down!” Juliana ordered.

  Mrs. Price started, then dropped onto the bed with a mutinous expression.

  Juliana crossed her arms over her chest. “Evan is like a son to me. I shan’t stand by and watch him suffer for no good reason. So I’m going to tell you some things about that young man that I’ve never spoken of to anyone, even him.” She sucked in a heavy breath. “When I’m through, you may do as you wish: Break his heart, suffer in silence, I don’t care. But first, you will hear me out.”

  The woman merely gave her a stony stare.

  “Evan Newcome is an incredible man,” Juliana said, “but you must have already realized that. And yes, he’s the son of our tenant farmer Thomas Newcome, who passed away this year.” When a flicker of sympathy shone in Mrs. Price’s eyes, Juliana added, “But in case you pity Evan for losing his father, don’t. The man regularly beat him, and would have kept him out of school and ignorant if Rhys and I hadn’t intervened.”

  Mrs. Price’s rigid composure cracked a little.

  “Evan has never spoken of what he suffered,” Juliana continued, “but I saw plenty of evidence of it during the years I tutored him. He used to come to lessons covered with bruises. Several times he had black eyes that he claimed came from fights with other boys. The first one appeared when he was only seven, so I was suspicious of that explanation, especially since his father rarely gave him time to play with other children.”

  As Mrs. Price’s face filled with horror, Juliana hardened her voice. “And then there was the time Evan broke his ribs ‘falling out of a tree.’ He wasn’t yet eleven, and could climb like a monkey. Oddly enough, when his mother came to tell me he wouldn’t be coming to lessons, she was also sporting a black eye.

  “In fact, he was often not the only one in his family with bruises. His mother . . . his sister . . . his older brother . . . I saw all of them with injuries at one time or another.”

  Mrs. Price’s shoulders began to shake.

  “You met Mary,” Juliana went on relentlessly, “so you know what a dear she is. But that little dear didn’t shed a single tear at her father’s funeral. And Evan’s brother . . .” Juliana glanced away. “Let’s just say that Goronwy’s family wears a good many bruises, too. I gues
s it’s difficult to grow up in a household like the Newcomes’ and not learn the wrong things.”

  She swung her gaze back to Mrs. Price. “But Evan rose above all that. Despite his wretched father, he fought to wrest an education from a system designed to keep out the Welsh. Evan made something of himself, and that takes a very strong and brave man. But he still believes what that horrible man beat into him—that he’s unworthy of love. And if you walk away from him—”

  “Please, no more!” Tears streamed down Mrs. Price’s face. “You don’t understand. I’d be honored beyond words to marry Evan. But I can’t, and he knows why!”

  “Does he?”

  “Yes!” She clenched her fists. “He knows I don’t have the chalice anymore!”

  Juliana gaped at her. “That family heirloom you went to London to get from Lord Mansfield? What in the name of God does that have to do with anything?”

  Mrs. Price swallowed. “It’s a long story, and you’ll not believe it.”

  Juliana sat down on the bed and took Mrs. Price’s hand. “You don’t know that. Why don’t you tell me?”

  For a moment, Juliana thought Mrs. Price would refuse. Then the woman began speaking in a low murmur. “There’s a curse on all the Ladies of the Mists. If I marry without drinking from that chalice on my wedding day, my husband dies. That’s why Willie and my father and grandfather and great-grandfather all passed away within three years of their weddings. That’s why I went to London to purchase the chalice.”

  Staring off into space, she whispered, “But David Morys took it, and he’ll never give it back. So if I marry Evan, he’ll die.” She fixed Juliana with a dark gaze. “I can’t watch Evan die the way I watched Willie die. I can’t!”

  Juliana felt as if someone had punched her. This was a new development entirely. All this over some chalice? “But Evan didn’t mention a curse—”

  “He knows about it; he just doesn’t believe in it. Yesterday, when I realized he was going to ask me to marry him without taking the curse into account, I didn’t know what to do. I knew he’d pursue me until I gave in.” She ducked her head shyly. “I can’t resist Evan when he . . . I have no will at all where he’s concerned.”

  Juliana bit back a smile. She’d known she was right about Mrs. Price’s feelings.

  “So I decided to refuse him without explanation. But I never got the chance, and after you came in and he wanted me to meet his family, I couldn’t meet them, knowing I was about to turn him down. I did tell him to speak to me later, but I confess I was grateful he didn’t. I suppose Evan guessed what I was about to do. I don’t know why he acquiesced, but I’m content to let matters lie. I shall simply leave and let him get on with his life.”

  “But how can he? He thinks you have contempt for what he is . . . or was.”

  Mrs. Price swallowed. “That will pass. If I remind him about the curse, he’ll never let the matter drop. And if he presses me into marriage, he’ll die. So I must avoid that at all costs.”

  It was all so medieval. And had four men in Mrs. Price’s family really died after three years of marriage?

  A chill swept her that she shook off. Even if such a curse existed, there must be a way around it. And if anyone could find it, Evan could.

  “Now you understand,” Mrs. Price said, a catch in her throat. “So you must help me leave.”

  Juliana squeezed her hand. “Yes, of course. I shall go see about having your clothes brought and a horse saddled for you.”

  Mrs. Price nodded, but as Juliana left, she heard the woman weeping. Grimly, Juliana headed across the hall. Evan must be reminded of this curse business. She suspected he’d welcome her meddling for once.

  She tapped on his door.

  “Who is it?” a voice snarled on the other side.

  She smiled. He was clearly unhappy enough to end this foolishness. “It’s Juliana,” she said in a low voice. “I must speak to you.”

  She heard him mutter an oath. “Go away! I’m . . . I’m getting dressed!”

  Nonsense. He’d summoned a servant earlier to help him dress. She tried the knob. It was unlocked, thank heaven.

  “I’m coming in,” she said, in case he truly did need the warning, then entered the room. As she’d suspected, he was fully clothed.

  “Can’t a man have any privacy around here?” he growled.

  “You’ll have all the privacy you want an hour from now.” She noted the half-empty brandy bottle and the filled glass in his hand. “That’s what I’ve come to tell you. Rhys and I and the children are going to Carmarthen for the day. We may even spend the night, depending how long it takes us to finish our business.”

  “Fine,” Evan bit out. “Have a wonderful time. Now if that’s all—”

  “Mrs. Price is planning to leave today, as well.”

  That got a reaction; his fingers clenched his glass. “Where’s she going?”

  Juliana shrugged. “Back to Plas Niwl, I suppose. I didn’t ask.”

  A distinct bitterness crept into his voice. “I hope she has a wonderful time. I hope you all have a wonderful time.”

  Barely suppressing an oath, Juliana said, “One more thing. What’s all this business about a chalice and a curse?”

  He gave a heavy sigh. “She told you about the curse?”

  “She says that’s why she won’t marry you.”

  He whirled on her. “Then she lies! She has her bloody chalice now, so the curse is no longer a problem!”

  Aha. So that was the source of the problem! “Oh, but she doesn’t have it. That Morys fellow stole it while she watched over you with the pistol.”

  The astonishment spreading over his face shifted rapidly to fury. He swore and stalked past her.

  Heaving a relieved sigh, she watched as he crossed the hall, threw open Mrs. Price’s door, and entered.

  Juliana strode blithely down the hall. If they couldn’t carry it on from here, she washed her hands of both of them. But she had a sneaking suspicion that all would be well.

  When her door slammed shut, Catrin jumped. She hadn’t heard it open, and she whirled away from the window, wondering if Lady Juliana had returned.

  Then she came face-to-face with a glowering Evan. “You . . . you shouldn’t be here. You’re not well enough to—”

  “I’m much better than one would expect, given that I spent the last fifteen hours barely able to sleep or eat. I did manage to drink, though it merely reminded me that even liquor can’t dull some pains.” His gaze burned over her swollen eyes and red nose, and his scowl faded. “Answer one question for me. Did Morys take the chalice?”

  “Of course he did. You saw him.”

  “For God’s sake, I was half-conscious when that happened! I dimly remember you two discussing it, but by that point I could barely see, and all I could hear was the blood roaring in my ears!”

  “I thought you knew.” She dragged in a breath. “I thought you were ignoring the fact that it was gone, since you don’t believe in the curse anyway.” Obviously Lady Juliana had told him the truth. Catrin wanted to be angry at her, but she couldn’t.

  “Yesterday when we were talking, you didn’t bring up the curse,” he said, his voice tight with emotion. “Why? Or did you indeed have some . . . other reason for not wanting to discuss marriage?”

  She should do as she’d planned and simply tell him she didn’t want to marry him, didn’t love him more than life. But faced with his pain—and remembering all Lady Juliana had told her—she couldn’t bear to hurt him more.

  When he’d told her about his violent nature, she hadn’t known it came from years of abuse, of witnessing a marriage fraught with violence. She hadn’t known how deep his scars were, how much he hurt. Lady Juliana had certainly done her work well. Catrin couldn’t stand to heap new suffering on him.

  “The only reason I could ever have for not wanting to marry you is the curse.” She stared out the window. “And I knew you . . . wouldn’t accept the curse as a reason, so I let you think whatever
you wanted.”

  As he came up behind her, she held her breath, wishing he’d go away and leave her alone. No, she didn’t want that, either. Oh, how would she ever bear this?

  “So you don’t care that I’m a tenant farmer’s son,” he murmured, “that I have a temper, that I’m not fit to kiss your dainty little foot?”

  “Of course I don’t care! Besides, I’m the one who’s cursed.”

  “It doesn’t matter to me.” He slid his good arm about her waist and drew her against him. “You were absolutely right—I refuse to accept the curse as a reason not to marry you.” He pressed a kiss against her hair that tore at her heart. “And I do want to marry you, to be part of your life at Plas Niwl, whatever part you see fit to allow. I want to spend every night in your arms, to see you grow big with my child. No curse will keep me from that.”

  Every word was a glittering promise dangling out of her reach. She’d known he wouldn’t relinquish her easily, yet she still felt powerless before the force of his will. “Please don’t say these things to me. Nothing can come of it.”

  He dragged her around to face him. “Tell me you don’t want the same, and I’ll let you go—even if it means spending the rest of my days alone, wanting you.” When she tried to glance away, he caught her chin and made her look at him. “Say you don’t love me, and I’ll end this now.”

  Oh, unfair. She couldn’t lie about that, and he knew it. You are too, too cruel, my love. “It doesn’t matter if I love you—”

  He swore. “That’s not what I asked. Do you love me? Tell me one way or the other!”

  She stared at the man who’d endured a hellish childhood and a lonely adulthood, who’d defended her from David even while thinking she was a criminal . . . who’d become more precious than life to her. It wasn’t in her to lie to him anymore. “There’s no point to saying this, but I do love you. You know I do.”

  Then he was kissing her as if she were his only answer to living. And Lord help her but she gave herself up to him without protest, twining her arms about his waist, letting him do whatever he wished so long as she could kiss him forever. One kiss, she told herself, and then she’d make him see sense.