Everlasting (5 page)

 
Drawing back the portal, Elspeth felt no fear as she accepted the item from the Scotsman; indeed, she even managed a small smile, for
her daughter would feel relief to learn that the valued vessel had been returned to her. “I thank you truly, kind sir, for ’tis something both she and I hold quite dear. ’Twas her late father’s, and that of generations of Harringtons prior to Berwin. Before his untimely death, her father gave it to her, and when Abrielle discovered that she had left it behind her, unthinking she rushed back to fetch it. Of course she had no idea that she would be set upon by that horrible man. I’m not sure just how much you know about my daughter, but she was once betrothed to Lord Weldon de Marlé. Since his lordship’s death, Desmond seems inclined to follow her about.”

 
“Ye say that ye expect your husband to return shortly, my lady? Mayhap I should keep watch out here on the landing till he does, just ta make certain ye and your daughter are safe. If ye feel a need, brace a chair against the inside of the door.”

 
Upon realizing she was still shaking from the incident involving her daughter, Elspeth managed a tremulously grateful smile. “I do think Abrielle and I would feel more secure if you would keep watch until my husband returns…just in case Desmond tries to force his way into our chambers. He seems to have his mind fixed on having my daughter, and there is no one Abrielle loathes more. But as for when he’ll return, I do not know. Thank you again for your protection…and your kindness,” she murmured as she fought back grateful tears. “You’ve proven a godsend tonight, not only by coming to my daughter’s rescue, but for watching over us when you barely know us.”

 
“Aye, ’tis true I hardly know ye, my lady, but I’m well acquainted with the sort of rascal who attacked your daughter. I didna think the man was ta be trusted when I first set eyes upon him. Ta be sure, my lady, I’m more inclined ta favor the ones who find themselves beset by such a man. Now I’ll be saying good night ta ye. Rest yourself, if ye can.”

 
Upon closing the door, Elspeth entered the adjoining bedchamber, where her daughter had flung herself across the bed and was still
sobbing. Even a handsome individual could evoke a horrible memory were he to resort to the vile tactics the squire had just employed. In view of the rampant disdain Abrielle had felt for the man before his attack, her aversion to him had likely been compounded.

 
Gently stroking her daughter’s back, Elspeth sought to soothe her fears. “Raven Seabern will be keeping watch outside our rooms until Vachel returns,” she murmured, wondering when that would be. A long moment passed as she thought of their protector. “The Scotsman gives every indication that he is a man to be admired…a very handsome gentleman…even more so than Lord Weldon. But then, I must remember that his lordship was nearing two score and five years of age when he fell to his death.”

 
Memories of his lordship’s demise evoked a lengthy silence that neither woman seemed willing to break until Elspeth heaved a pensive sigh. “I know it isn’t proper for a lady to speak of such things, but for some time now, I’ve been thinking…even more so since this latest incident, that if Desmond were threatened with violence after daring to approach you, mayhap he’d learn to keep his distance.”

 
“I wouldn’t be inclined to think so,” Abrielle muttered against the coverlet. “Just leave it be, Mama. We will be leaving London soon.” She almost told her mother what Cordelia had told her about the suspicion of Desmond’s part in Weldon’s death, but how could she further upset her? She didn’t want Vachel challenging the man to a contest to the death. Her own father had died in the same senseless way. And after all, Desmond had been stopped in time. She shuddered.

 
OUTSIDE, A SAFE distance away, Desmond licked his wounds and made plans. After pulling free of that arrogant, meddling Scot, he’d dashed toward the nearest portal, frantic to make good his escape. The rapidity of his flight had been clearly evidenced by the sound of
his clattering heels echoing back through the halls. He never halted until he had escaped from the castle and dragged himself onto his shaggy steed. Even then, he thumped his heels frantically against the animal’s heaving sides. He’d been thwarted and made the fool this night, but there would be another night, and he would not forget Raven’s possessiveness of Abrielle.

 
IT WAS LATER that night when Vachel returned to the castle and began to slowly climb the stairs to the chambers wherein his family was ensconced. He was in a foul mood, having repeatedly mulled over in his mind his limited choices for the future.

 
Upon nearing the landing, Vachel was taken aback when he espied the Scotsman sitting with his back braced against the far wall. “Why are you here?”

 
Raven pushed himself to his feet with a single, graceful movement. “Desmond de Marlé took it inta his head ta force himself on your daughter.”

 
Vachel’s heart went cold with dread. “Is she all right? Did he do anything to her?” Though reluctant to ask and have his suspicions confirmed, he had to know the truth. “Has the girl been…sullied?”

 
“She would’ve been had I not been there ta send the rat scurrying off ta his hole,” Raven replied. “I told your wife that I’d watch till your return. Although ye’ll likely be thinking ’tis none of my concern, ye need ta watch over your family whilst that filthy toad is in the area…just ta keep them safe.”

 
Vachel needed no one, especially a stranger, telling him that he had seriously erred by leaving his family alone. His frustration during the evening had risen to an intolerable degree when he had seen the very same lords who had courted Abrielle now after the scent of richer quarry. His guilt for not being there to protect her caused him to wonder if he wasn’t deserving of the situation in which he presently
found himself. Even so, in the mood he was in, he found it difficult to accept the Scotsman’s counsel. “I can take care of my family well enough without your interference.”

 
In response to this less-than-gracious remark by Abrielle’s parent, Raven only arched a dark brow, then bowed and took his leave of Vachel.

 
Deeply ashamed by his earlier lack of caution in seeing to the welfare of his family, Vachel turned his back and stepped through the door.

 
Elspeth was anxiously pacing about their chambers, awaiting his return as he stepped through the portal. Sobbing in relief, she flew into his arms. “I thought you’d never return!”

 
“Tell me what happened,” Vachel urged, feeling her trembling against him, and she did so, her voice shaky, ending with these words: “I am so grateful the Scotsman was guarding our door until you returned, for there is no telling what Desmond might have done had he found us here alone.”

 
“The despicable actions of that beast have clearly upset you, Elspeth, with reason, but I cannot imagine that coward Desmond being brave enough to force his way…”

 
Elspeth’s ire rose. “Do you think I make too much of his assault upon my daughter?” she demanded, her eyes flashing with sudden ire. “I tell you, Vachel, that despicable man will not rest until he has violated Abrielle. Indeed, he was intent upon doing that foul deed this very evening. If not for the Scotsman’s interference, he would have ravished her.”

 
“I apologize for leaving you and Abrielle alone,” Vachel replied in humble tones. “Obviously this incident would never have happened had I stayed here with you, but there’s nothing I can say or do now that will rectify that matter.” He heaved a laborious sigh. “If you don’t mind, I’ve had very little sleep since I came here, and I’m very tired at the moment. Perhaps we can continue this discussion on the morrow.”

 
Seeing vivid evidence of his dispirited dejection, Elspeth took pity on him as she rubbed his arm. “Let’s not quarrel. I’m sure in time something better will come our way. We need only wait.”

 
ABRIELLE LAY ON her bed, listening to the muted voices of her parents. She could not hear the words, but she understood the emotions, for she, too, experienced the bitter depths of them. Her trembling had finally eased, but she kept playing the terrible attack over and over in her mind, remembering the loathsome feel of Desmond’s hand on her innocent flesh.

 
And then her feeling of grateful relief when Raven had stormed into the chamber, his face a mask of cold fury. She would be forever grateful for his timeliness in coming to her aid and forever in awe of how effortlessly he had dealt with the loathsome Desmond. But she felt something else, too, something more, and somewhere deep inside, she mistrusted her own feelings, for her gratitude felt too much like desire.

 
God above, every time she saw Raven Seabern, a part of her yearned for him. What was happening to her? Were despair and distress making her mind vulnerable to her basest impulses? Why could she not see Raven and feel only simple gratitude? After all, he’d only rescued her and guarded their chambers out of duty. He’d spent the evening avoiding her except when they were forced to dance, as if she were beneath his notice now that her family circumstances had changed. He was a Scot, for heaven’s sake, looked on with suspicion by all she knew, and yet her treacherous body yearned for him, as a woman yearned for a man.

 
A MONTH HAD passed since the event honoring the Saxon heroes of the Crusades had been held at Westminster Castle. Since then,
Abrielle’s thoughts had returned fairly often to Raven Seabern and the troubling emotions he had awakened within her. As much as his brilliant blue eyes, leanly chiseled nose, and the charmingly wayward grin had evoked her interest, she was unable to ignore the distressing situation in which their small family presently found itself. What they were now facing would likely force her to make a decision that she would despise for the rest of her life. She couldn’t blame her stepfather for the concern he had shown for his men and his father upon his return home from the tumultuous conflicts raging in foreign lands. Willaume had been the one who had gone back on his word by not returning the funds that Vachel had so kindly permitted him to use before his death or mentioning them in a statement to be read after that event. Even now, Vachel was unwilling to condemn his parent as he offered the excuse that Willaume hadn’t been thinking too clearly before his death. Unfortunately, because the elder had failed to consider or remember the funds that Vachel had extended to him in an effort to restore his flagging wealth, the latter was now faced with ruin. Vachel’s only chance to escape impoverishment was now in Abrielle’s hands, and the decision she made would affect all of their lives, but most especially hers.

 
Desmond de Marlé had approached Vachel and asked for Abrielle’s hand in marriage, and now she stood in her stepfather’s private solar, facing the two people she loved above all else, knowing they loved her and grieved for her decision, but they let her have her peace while she paced and thought.

 
Desmond had offered a sizable stipend to be paid for Abrielle’s hand upon the execution of the agreement, plus guarantees in writing that upon his death she would inherit most of what he owned except for another stipend to her stepfather and to Desmond’s nephew. Although Desmond had been Weldon’s half brother and had barely known his lordship, he had been Weldon’s only heir. That fact had served to make Desmond an immensely wealthy man upon
his lordship’s death, so rich that he could now afford to be generous if it meant he’d be getting what he had been yearning for since first espying Abrielle in the company of her parents at Weldon’s keep. Abrielle couldn’t help wondering why, if there was a nephew in the family, he had not inherited anything from Weldon, who had been a generous man.

 
Little had Desmond realized when he had offered to buy his bride just how close Vachel was to ruin. As it stood now, all the latter had to do to replenish his coffers was to accept Desmond’s request for Abrielle’s hand in marriage. Unfortunately, the squire’s proposition failed to assuage the rapidly mounting qualms of all three members of the family, perhaps Vachel most of all, because the girl would be giving up all hope of marrying someone she loved in order to save the family for which he was responsible. He could not be the one to take her future from her.

 
Elspeth’s elegant brows gathered in fretting concern as she watched her husband pacing about. “Vachel, I know we are desperate…” she began, but the look on his face forestalled her frantic pleading. She instead approached her husband and rested a gentle hand upon his arm, caressing it unconsciously. Although she was aware that he could be obstinate at times, she had little doubt that she had made the right choice when she had accepted his proposal of marriage. As far as his tendency to make decisions contrary to her preferences and wishes, it had recently dawned on her that she preferred to be challenged by one of his manly disposition and intellect rather than to be bored to the marrow of her bones by another who might have readily complied with her smallest request. Although Berwin had considered her advice when she had offered it, he had not always followed it, as he had proven the day of his death. She had to believe there was some way out of their predicament without laying it all upon her daughter’s shoulders. To burden a young woman with the likes of Desmond de Marlé as her husband seemed a cruel blow indeed.