Authors: Iris Johansen
“She’ll be there.”
“You seem very certain.”
He was certain. All through that barbed exchange he had been aware of the core of strength beneath her fragile, childlike exterior. She had not yielded; she had only retreated because he had struck her in a vulnerable spot. “She’ll join us for supper.”
“And you will be a cordial and well-mannered gentleman,” Bradford said with firmness.
Jared looked at him in surprise. “Good God, gallantry?”
“On occasion.”
“Not one I’ve witnessed.”
“I make sure I’m seldom in a position where it’s required. It’s a most uncomfortable state for a rogue such as me.” Bradford yawned and leaned back in his chair. “But I’m forced to defend mistreated horses and helpless children. So if you have a fondness for me, don’t make me expend the effort. Behave yourself, Jared.”
“By all means,” he said mockingly. “I wouldn’t want to disturb you.”
“Splendid. Now, pour me another brandy.”
Cassie stopped just inside the veranda door to gather her composure. She should not have let his criticism disturb her so much. She did not care what he thought of her.
You won’t get her by playing in the sand and dreaming about it
.
Those were the words that had struck home. Had she been dreaming like a child instead of acting to
make her vision of a horse farm come true? She had made several attempts to find the mare, but had she tried hard enough? Had she used Papa as an excuse to avoid venturing forth? There had seemed no hurry, and she had let time drift by.…
“Are you ill? Perhaps you should go back to your room.”
Cassie looked up to see Lani coming down the hall, a concerned frown on her face.
She smiled with an effort. “I’m fine. I was just coming to look for you.”
“I was in the kitchen trying to keep Uma from hitting Clara with a pot and going back to her village.” She grimaced. “It wasn’t easy. Clara is being more difficult than usual about the meal preparations for the English. She was raving about heathen servants and people who got in her way while she was doing her duty. I gathered the last volley was aimed at you.”
“I didn’t stay in the kitchen very long.”
“Long enough to annoy her.” Lani looked beyond her to the veranda. “If you’re not ill, then you’re upset. What did they say to you?”
She should have known she could not deceive Lani. “Nothing important.” To distract her, she said quickly, “Is supper ready?”
Lani nodded. “Clara sent me to inform our honored guests.”
Cassie’s stomach clenched with apprehension and dread. “Then let’s do it.”
“Wait.” Lani’s gaze was on her face. “You’re sure you’re well enough?”
“Of course.” She turned and moved toward the veranda. “It’s only dinner. It will be over before we know it.”
• • •
It was a strained meal that seemed to go on forever. Neither Cassie nor Lani were eager to speak. Jared was fastidiously polite and cool as the North Star. Bradford was affable but gave up after a few attempts at conversation and devoted himself to the food.
Clara Kidman marched into the dining room after Uma had removed the main course. “I hope everything met with your approval, Your Grace.”
Cassie looked at her in amazement. It was the first time she had seen Clara in Danemount’s presence and was bewildered by the servility in her manner.
“It was absolutely delicious.” Jared smiled. “I’ve not had such a fine meal since I left London. But it’s only what I expected. I could tell the moment I met you that you had the reins of the household firmly in your hands.”
A faint tinge of color flushed Clara’s cheeks. “I know it’s not what you’re accustomed to, but it’s the best I could do with only these heathen islanders to help me.”
“Uma is not a heathen,” Lani said quietly. “She studied with me at Mrs. Densworth’s school.”
Clara met Lani’s gaze. “It takes more than a few lessons to make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.”
“You have a fine cook,” Jared interjected quickly. “But I’m sure it was your expert supervision that carried the day.”
“The meal was adequate,” Clara said grudgingly. “But I couldn’t trust the dessert to anyone but myself. I’ll have it brought in at once.”
“Thank you, but I seldom eat dessert.”
Clara frowned in disappointment. “It’s my own special lemon syllabub.”
Cassie lifted her brows in mock surprise. “Perhaps
he would rather trust his digestion to the heathens, Clara.”
Jared’s lips tightened as he met Cassie’s challenging stare. “Nonsense.” He turned to Clara with another brilliant smile. “I’d be delighted to try your syllabub.”
Clara gave Cassie a triumphant glance and hurried from the dining room.
“Charming woman,” Bradford said, looking at the doorway through which Clara had disappeared. “Am I supposed to compliment the witch on this delicacy?”
“With fervent enthusiasm,” Jared said. “She may still prove useful.”
Bradford shifted his stare to Lani. “I think not. You do it, Jared. It would stick in my throat.”
“Because the old woman insulted me?” Lani asked coolly. “There’s no wound. I’m accustomed to her venom.”
“And Deville permits it?”
“She doesn’t do it when he’s here.”
“But does he know?” Bradford probed softly. “That’s the question.”
Lani shrugged. “Why should I bother him with something he cannot change?”
“She’s a servant,” Jared suddenly bit out with leashed violence. “He could change it if he wished. Why do you defend him?” He whirled on Cassie. “Why do either of you defend him, dammit?”
“Here it is!” Clara sailed into the room with Uma trailing behind her bearing a tray. “I’ll wager you won’t find anything tastier even at Brighton. It has a fine, tart bite.”
Jared pulled his eyes away from Cassie as Uma set the plate before him. “I’m sure you’re right,” he muttered.
“Tartness appears to be the rule of thumb on this island.”
“You could hardly expect anything else,” Cassie said.
“I expect nothing.” He dipped his spoon into the syllabub and tasted it, then smiled at Clara. “Excellent.”
She beamed. “I told you. My mother taught me the recipe. She was a cook for the Earl of Belkarn.”
Cassie experienced another ripple of surprise. Clara had never spoken of her background before. “I didn’t know that.”
Clara’s smile faded and her expression became guarded. “Did you think I would have been accepted into your mother’s household without proper recommendation? I grew up in service.”
“Wonderful,” Jared said. He glanced meaningfully at Bradford. “Try it. It’s superb.”
Bradford hesitated, then shrugged and began to eat the dessert.
Clara looked at him expectantly.
“Very good,” he said without expression. He eyed Cassie’s untouched dessert. “You’re not eating.”
“She and Lani have no liking for my cooking,” Clara said. “And no manners to make the pretense.”
“We’re more accustomed to island fare now,” Cassie said. “You seldom honor us with your efforts.”
“No doubt you’ve noticed her deplorable lack of civilized schooling. I’ve done the best I can but to no avail. I’ve told her father he must send her to a convent in England.”
“An interesting solution,” Jared said impassively. “But not one I’d judge entirely suitable.”
“My father refused to send me away from him.”
Cassie defiantly met his gaze across the table. “He cares as much for me as I do for him.”
He smiled coolly. “We shall see.”
He meant that if her father truly cared for her, he would walk into the trap, she realized with a shiver. It would not happen. She would not let it happen.
“More syllabub?” Clara asked, hovering over Jared.
Cassie held her breath.
He shook his head as he finished the last bite. “Too dangerous. I’m afraid I’ll become too spoiled to enjoy even the most elaborate repast when I return to England.”
Cassie’s breath expelled in a rush, and she jumped to her feet. “I’m going to my room. I’m suddenly feeling tired. Lani, will you come and help me?”
“Of course.” Lani stood up and followed Cassie to the door.
Both men rose to their feet.
“Good night,” Bradford said. “Pleasant dreams.”
Jared bowed slightly.
Cassie said over her shoulder, “Clara, perhaps you could serve the gentlemen their after-dinner brandy on the veranda? They seem to find it pleasant out there.”
“I don’t need your suggestions. I was going to do just that.”
“Of course you were,” Cassie murmured, and fled the room.
Lani caught up with her as she reached the door of her room. “What’s happening?” she asked. “And don’t tell me nothing when you’re shaking like this. You wouldn’t have put us through an evening this uncomfortable without reason.”
“Come!” Cassie pulled her into the room and
slammed the door. She collapsed against it and took a deep breath. “I need your help.”
“That’s why I’m here.” She wrinkled her nose. “And clearly not to help you into bed. You’re going to your father tonight?”
“Can you distract the two seamen watching the house?”
Lani nodded. “But you still won’t be able to reach the road without being seen from the veranda.”
“Yes, I will,” she whispered. “I hope. If I gave them enough.”
Lani stiffened. “Enough?”
“Laudanum. The laudanum that we had left after I had the fever last summer. Remember? It was in the medicine chest in the back of my armoire.”
Lani’s eyes widened. “Mother of God.”
“I slipped it into the lemon syllabub when I was in the kitchen talking to Clara. I know you never eat syllabub, and I hoped the strong taste of lemon would disguise it.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t know how much laudanum to use. I thought I remembered how much the doctor had given me, but I couldn’t be sure. I tried to be careful, but I was afraid I’d—” She broke off, unwilling to put the dread into words.
“Kill them?”
She shivered. “I had to take the chance.”
“But you didn’t want me to take it with you.” Lani shook her head. “You shouldn’t have done it. We could have found another way.”
“There’s no
time
. What if Papa comes tonight?”
She shrugged. “Well, there’s nothing else to be done now. I’ll distract the sailors, and you get to your father.”
Cassie grabbed her shawl from the bed. “Lani …”
Lani smiled understandingly. “I know. Don’t worry. I’ll watch over the English and make sure the sleep is not too deep.”
Relief surged through Cassie. “I know they’re Papa’s enemies, but I don’t want them to die. I don’t want anyone to die.”
“Then get to your father and tell him he must hide until the English leave.”
“I will.” Cassie gave Lani a quick hug. “I’ll be back before they wake. I won’t leave you alone to take the brunt of their anger.”
“I’ve survived Clara for years; these English are nothing.” She opened the door, looked both ways before pushing Cassie down the hall in the direction of the veranda. “Give Charles my love and tell him … Never mind. The decision must be his alone this time.”
“What decision?”
“We cannot do everything for him this time, Kanoa,” she said gently as she moved swiftly toward the back door. “There comes a time when a man must come to terms with himself.”
Cassie stared after her in puzzlement. They had always protected her father in every way, and now Lani was saying there were limits. Well, there might be limits for Lani, but not for her.
Cassie braced herself and then walked slowly toward the veranda, dreading what waited for her. If she had given them too little, then all her plans were for naught. If she had given them too much … No, she did not even want to consider that possibility.
She stood in the doorway of the veranda. Both men
were slumped in their chairs. Asleep? Dear God, they were so terribly still. Dead?
She moved slowly toward Jared until she stood before him. No, he was breathing, she saw with profound gratitude.
Then his eyes opened and he stared up into her face. Shock held her riveted. His eyes were ice-blue, cold as a sword striking at her.
“Luc … rezia,” he muttered. “What a … fool …”
His lids closed again.
She backed away from him, afraid he would wake again and fix her with that accusing stare. It was unreasonable to feel that she had betrayed him. He was the enemy, and she had done the only thing possible.
She ran down the veranda steps and fled along the path toward the road.
“
C
assandra!”
She skidded to a halt, her heart leaping with terror when she saw the man coming up the path toward her. “No!”
Her father stopped in his tracks. “Are you all right, Cassandra? Lakoa said you’d had a fall.”
“It was nothing. Just a bump on the head.” She glanced over her shoulder at the cottage. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“You were hurt,” he said simply. “Where else should I be?”
“The English are here.”
“I know.”
She ran forward and dragged him into the underbrush beside the path. “You have to leave. Go back to the village.”
“I can’t do that,” he said quietly. “I can’t hide any more. Eleven years is long enough to be a coward.”