A Refuge at Highland Hall (30 page)

She was lovely, so very lovely, but it was more than her appearance that drew him to her. Her heart radiated kindness and caring, a love for home and family—everything he wanted. But he was a fool to even think he could ever be good enough for her.

Penny turned and looked up at him. Her lips parted, and a sweet invitation filled her eyes.

Every nerve in his body tingled to life. He took a step closer, but she didn't retreat. Slowly, he lowered his head and brushed his lips over hers. Her soft sigh caressed his face as she leaned closer, responding in a way he'd only dreamed possible.

Fire stirred within him, and he pulled her closer, deepening the kiss. Time stopped, painful memories faded, and bliss carried him away.

Voices sounded in the hallway. Alex broke off the kiss and stepped back, pulling in ragged breath. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that.”

Penny blinked, confusion clouding those beautiful eyes. A knock sounded at the partially closed door. Her eyes flashed, and she lifted her hand to cover her mouth. Being caught kissing a man in his bedroom could ruin a woman's reputation.

How could he have allowed his feelings to overtake his good judgment? “Forgive me,” he said in a hushed voice.

Her chin trembled, and she looked at him with such a bewildered expression it cut him to the heart.

The knock sounded again. “I have your cases, sir.”

Alex stepped away from Penny and cleared his throat. “Come in.”

The footman entered, carrying Alex's duffel bag and his one scuffed brown suitcase, reminding Alex that was all he owned. A pitiful showing for a man of twenty-three years.

“Shall I unpack these for you now, sir?” The footman shot an uncertain glance at Penny, then looked back at Alex. “Or would you like me to come back later?”

If Alex said later, it might appear that he wanted to be alone with Penny, and that wasn't the kind of rumor he wanted passed among the servants. “You can unpack them now, or I can just take care of it myself.”

“I'm glad to help, sir.” The footman glanced at Alex's sling.

“Very well.” He turned away from the footman and looked back at Penny.

A deep blush covered her cheeks, and she averted her eyes. She ran her tongue over her lower lip and stepped away. “You may join us in the library, or rest for a time if you'd like. Luncheon will be served at twelve-thirty in the dining room.” With that, she swept past him.

His spirits plunged as she disappeared out the door. He'd done it now. Not in the house ten minutes and he'd already broken the first promise he'd made to himself: to keep his distance from Penny.

P
enny strode across the gallery and fled down the east wing. By the time she reached the end of the hall, her hands were shaking so hard she could barely grip the doorknob. She jerked open her bedroom door, strode inside, and shoved the door closed behind her.

Alex was sorry? Well, so was she. Sorry she'd listened to her heart and given her first kiss to a man who didn't want her!

How could she have been so foolish!

Now she would have to face him every day and remember the way he'd pulled away from that kiss with a painful grimace, as though she tasted like something disgusting.

Moaning, she crossed her room and dropped onto the window seat. Her eyes filled as she stared out the window, but she blinked hard, refusing to give in to her tears.

How could she have let her emotions take over like that? She thought she'd outgrown her hopeless-romantic stage, but it seemed she was just as immature and fond of fantasy as she'd been at sixteen when she danced with Theo Anderson at Kate's debutante ball.

What was wrong with her? Why was she so desperate to win a man's love?

A shameful burning washed over her again. She closed her eyes, trying to sort out her feelings.

All her life she'd longed to feel loved and cherished. But her mother had died when she was young, and her father had cared more about his horses and dogs than his daughters. When her father died before she turned sixteen, Cousin William became her guardian. William was a good man, but he was focused on managing the estate and caring for his own wife and children. She respected him, but she'd never felt particularly close to him.

Her thoughts turned back to her father, and regret washed over her again. He had not been there to dance with her at her debutante ball, and he would never walk her down the aisle at her wedding.

She huffed out a harsh laugh. If she ever found a husband!

Everyone else in the family was married, but she was single and alone, unchosen and unloved.

Enough!
She rubbed her hand down her face and turned away from the window. She must take charge of her feelings and stop hoping Alex would grow to love her. If she didn't, she was going to damage her reputation and end up with a broken heart—again!

She would have to stay far away from Alex Goodwin. It wouldn't be easy, but she could learn to be indifferent toward him and treat him the way she would any other acquaintance.

But the memory of his kiss came flooding back, and she lifted her hand to her lips. Closing her eyes, she released a sigh. She might be able to avoid Alex, but pretending he'd never kissed her…

That would be impossible.

Marius hoisted two large baskets of vegetables and walked across Highland's kitchen garden toward the arched gateway.

“Be quick about it, now,” the guard called. “No dillydallying at the house.”

Marius nodded, then walked on and passed out of the garden. Moist, misty air cooled his face, and he looked up at the cloudy sky. What a stroke of luck the rain had stopped, or was it the kind hand of Providence? Either way, he was grateful he'd been assigned to work in the estate garden one last time.

Please, God, let me say good-bye to Lydia.

He grimaced as he strode up the path toward the house. How could he expect God to answer his prayer when he was preparing to break the law and escape from camp? He shook his head and shifted his hold on the baskets.

But this was the only choice. Siegfried was right. His sister could die if he didn't go to London and see that she got the help she needed. Who else would care for a girl with German parents and no money? Somehow God must understand and would forgive him.

He crossed Highland's rear courtyard and knocked at the door, while the tug of war with his conscience raged on. Not long ago he'd been carried through this very door with a bloody leg. He winced, remembering the agony that gash had caused. Though it had been painful and frightening, he'd met Lydia that day, and that had been a great gift.

Something his mother told him many times came rushing back.

“Remember, God specializes in taking something bad and turning it around for good. You watch, you wait, you'll see.”

The door swung open, and a young maid in a white apron and cap looked out at him. His spirit deflated. He should've known Lydia wouldn't answer, but still, he'd hoped she might.

“Good day, miss. I was told to bring these vegetables to the kitchen.”

“I'll take them.” The maid reached for the baskets.

He held on tight and shook his head. “I'll bring them in.”

She looked up at him with questioning eyes, but then stepped back and let him pass by. He walked down the steps and into the lower hall. The tantalizing smell of roasting game floated out from the kitchen, along with a fresh citrus scent. The cook must be making something with lemons, maybe lemon curd?

“Scrub this pot again. It's not clean.” The woman's voice came from the kitchen.

He rounded the corner and stopped at the kitchen doorway.

A portly, middle-aged woman in a brown dress, apron, and cap waved a young maid toward the sink. “Go on, now, and do a better job this time.” She looked his way and lifted her eyebrows. “Who are you?”

“Marius Ritter, ma'am. I'm delivering these vegetables from the kitchen garden.”

She gave a quick glance to the baskets, then looked back at him. Her forehead creased. “You're that German, aren't you? The one who cut his leg in the orchard?”

“Yes, ma'am.” He looked around the kitchen. “Where would you like me to put these?”

“Stay where you are.” She looked down at his feet, and her lip curled. “I don't want those muddy boots in my kitchen.”

A tall man in a white chef's jacket strode down the hall toward Marius. He slowed as he drew closer. “Oh, look at
zees
onions! You bring
zem
from our garden?” Marius had to listen closely to catch each word, muddled as they were by the man's strong French accent.

“Yes, sir.”

The chef nodded and lifted one plump, purple onion and sniffed it. Then he took one basket and plunked it down on the big worktable in the center of the room. Bits of soil trickled out on the tabletop.

“Ah, look at that! What a mess!” The cook bustled over to Marius and snatched the second basket from his hands. “Next time rinse them off outside before you bring them in my kitchen.”

Marius stared at her. There wouldn't be a next time.

“Well, why are you still standing there looking at me like that? Go on. I've no use for you in here.” The cook waved him off.

He turned and strode down the hall, his ears burning. Footsteps sounded on the stone stairs, and he looked up.

A blond maid walked down carrying a tray filled with dishes. He'd never seen her before and had no idea if she would help him, but he had to try.

Her steps slowed when she saw him waiting at the bottom of the steps. She looked around and then back at him.

“Excuse me, miss.” He reached in his pocket and took out the envelope. “Would you give this to Lydia Chambers?”

She bit her lip and glanced toward the kitchen. “Who are you?”

“I'm a friend.” He lowered his voice. “I mean no harm. Please, it's important.”

A slight smile lifted her lips. “All right.” She balanced the tray in one hand, took the envelope, and slipped it in her apron pocket. “But you better go, before anyone else sees.”

He touched his hat and nodded. “Thank you.” Then he turned and hurried down the hall.

Lydia stared at the note from Marius, and a tremor raced down her arms. He was leaving? That didn't make sense. Where could he go?

Ann glanced around the great hall and leaned toward her. “What did he say?”

“Never mind.” Lydia shoved the note in her pocket. “I have to go outside.”

Ann's eyes widened. “To see him?”

“Yes, but please don't say anything to anyone.” Lydia glanced toward the music room where Penny, Helen, and the children practiced a song.

“You better be careful,” Ann whispered. “I almost got sacked when they caught me sneaking out to meet Peter.”

“It's not like that.” Lydia bit her lip. But it was, and if Mrs. Dalton or Mr. Lawrence found out what she was doing, she could lose her position. Still, she couldn't ignore Marius's note. “This is my last chance to see him.”

Understanding flooded Ann's eyes. “Go on, then. I'll cover for you.”

“Thank you.” Lydia turned and hurried down the servants' stairs.

The clatter of pots and pans sounded in the kitchen, followed by Chef Lagarde scolding someone in French. Lydia tiptoed past the kitchen and scurried out the back door.

Was she in time? Would Marius still be waiting for her? She rounded the corner of the house and ran down the gravel path toward the garden.

Suddenly, someone grabbed her arm and pulled her into the bushes. She gasped and started to scream, but a hand pressed over her mouth.

“Shh, it's all right. It's Marius.”

She sagged against him, and he lowered his hand. With her heart pounding hard in her chest, she turned and faced him.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you.”

“Well, you did.” Lydia smoothed her hair back in place.

He laid his hand on her arm. “Forgive me. But I couldn't leave without seeing you once more.”

“Are they transferring you to anther camp?”

He shook his head and looked down.

Her stomach tensed. “Marius?”

A second passed before he lifted his head. His eyes glittered with moisture. “My sister is very ill, and my mother has no money to pay for a doctor or medicine. She's afraid Jenny will die. I have to go to them.”

“But how? Will they give you some kind of pass?”

He shook his head.

A fearful trembling started in her legs, and she gripped his arm. “Oh, Marius, you can't escape!”

“I have to. My family needs me.”

“But it's so dangerous! If they catch you…” She didn't even want to think what they would do to him.

He took her hand. “I must help my mother and my sister. There's no one else.”

“I don't believe that.” She pulled her hand away. “There has to be someone who will help them.”

His eyes flashed, and his face turned ruddy. “We're German. No one will help us.”

She crossed her arms, trying to still her trembling, but it was no use. Marius could be shot for trying to escape. They might think he was a spy.

“Please, Lydia, don't be angry with me. I know it's dangerous, but Siegfried has a plan that's sure to work.”

“Siegfried?” She shook her head. “Don't listen to him!”

Marius hurried on as though he hadn't heard her warning. “We tried to get away last night, but our timing was off. If the weather holds, we'll try again tonight.”

She shuddered and closed her eyes.
Please, God. You have to stop him.

“I know it's a risk, but I can't let my sister die. She needs to see a doctor.”

An idea flashed into Lydia's mind, and she grabbed his hand. “Don't go! I know someone who'll help your sister.”

“Who?”

“Dr. and Mrs. Foster.”

Marius sent a fearful glance toward the house. “You can't tell them.”

“It will be all right. I mean Dr. Jon Foster and his wife, Kate. When he was taking his training in London, he volunteered at a free clinic on the East End called Daystar. They helped my sister, Helen, when she was pregnant. They see lots of patients every day. No one has to pay. I'm sure they'll help your sister.”

“But we don't have time to write and wait for a reply. My sister needs help now. I must go tonight, if I can get away.”

“I could send a telegram.” She quickly patted her pocket, hoping for a pencil, but only felt Marius's note. “I'll go get pencil and paper.”