Helen Dickson (24 page)

However, she knew she’d been jumpy and off-balance ever since she had colluded with Edward and deceived her husband, but there was something about Lucas’s manner in all this that made her feel distinctly uneasy. She felt there was something he was not telling her, that there was something going on she knew nothing about. A secret.

She frowned, unable to quell her uneasy suspicions. ‘You will tell me of your plans, won’t you, Lucas?’

‘Not now,’ he replied in a noncommittal voice. ‘Now, be a good wife and go and tell John I wish to speak to him before I leave for Elmtree House.’

‘You still haven’t answered my question.’

‘Nor do I intend to do so at present.’

‘I wish you would trust me,’ she complained.

‘Do not worry, Laura,’ he said, planting a kiss lightly on her brow in an effort to placate her. ‘When I’ve spoken to Walter my plans shall soon become clear to you—and there is more, much, much more I have to tell you. But for your own safety you are better off not knowing. Will you trust me?’

She hesitated, considering that, then she nodded, managing a smile. ‘What about Caroline? We will have to make sure she is in safe hands during our absence—even though it will be of short duration. Should we tell her what is happening?’

‘I’d rather not, but we can’t just leave the manor without telling her where we’re going,’ he said, frowning as he rubbed his shoulder, wondering if the wound would ever cease to ache. ‘She’s been subdued of late and I have no wish to worry her unduly. But the whole household will have to be told what’s going on—we’re certainly going to
have to rely on John and George. George must remain to protect Caroline against any unwelcome visitor, and she’ll think it odd when we return unexpectedly.’

‘You’re right. She should be told. While you ride over to see Walter, I’ll put her in the picture.’

To fool any watching eyes on the afternoon of the landing, the coach carrying Lucas and Laura left Roslyn Manor as arranged with George’s son Joss at the reins, supposedly for Lostwithiel.

Later, Susan handed the sleeping Louis to Caroline, having nursed him to sleep. ‘You’re certain you don’t mind if I go to bed,’ she said, stifling a yawn with the back of her hand.

Caroline smiled at Laura’s young maid. ‘No, you go, Susan. When I’ve put Louis down I’m going to read until Lucas and Laura return. They should be back in a couple of hours or so.’

Despite the cold night, the room felt warm. Placing a light, affectionate kiss on her son’s head, Caroline placed him gently in his cradle and curled up in a chair by the fire, opening a book. After a while she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. She must have dozed, because when she opened them again and glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece she saw an hour had passed. She sighed and began reading once more, her concentration broken by the sound of the wind and a splattering of rain on the window.

Suddenly a noise, a hollow clatter and what sounded like a grunt, startled her. It echoed along the gallery outside her room. She frowned and then relaxed, thinking it must be John or his wife coming to bed. However, unable to shake off her apprehension, she rose and crossed to the window. Lifting the heavy curtain, she put her face close to the small diamond-shaped glass panes.

Out in the cove, barely visible in the drizzling rain, she
could just make out the ghostly shape of a large vessel being tossed about on the turbulent sea. Aware of what was about to happen, she felt her body turn cold. Letting the curtain fall back into place, she moved to the centre of the room. The candlelight and the logs in the hearth sent slow-changing shadows on the walls. She shuddered, feeling a peculiar nervous fluttering in her breast.

Suddenly she heard another noise, closer now. She heard hard breathing as the door opened, heard someone’s heavy tread. Numb with terror, Caroline felt her heart knock so hard in her chest she thought it would leave her.

Like some terrible spectre a tall man slipped inside. His tightly curled blond hair glistened. His clothes were wet, his high boots caked with sand. His eyes, so like Anton’s, were drawn to her. In his hawk-like face they lingered for a moment on her, before shifting to the cradle. His lips stretched in a cocksure smile, he looked at her once more.

‘Pardon me for walking in unannounced, Countess, but I did not want to wake the entire household by knocking,’ said Jean de Mournier in perfect English, his tone mocking, his cocksure smile having acquired a malevolent twist.

For a moment Caroline was assailed by the memory of her dead husband. Terror seized her. Then a darker fear channelled through her terror. This man meant to kill Louis.

It was dusk when the coach carrying Lucas and Laura reached the house on the edge of the moor. It had been arranged that Joss would pass the night here and return to Roslyn come morning. On their arrival the owner of the house emerged from the barn leading two horses. A man of few words, he handed the reins to Lucas and then went to help Joss unhitch the coach horses from the shafts.

Letting them get on with it, Lucas looked at his wife and saw concern etched on her lovely face as she struggled with the pangs of uncertainty. Despite the brave face she was putting on, he knew how anxious she was that things might
go wrong. Gently he traced the curve of her cheek with the backs of his fingers. ‘What is it, Laura?’

‘I’m worried that things may not go according to plan, that the coastguard and excise men, and Captain Dalby and his dragoons might not turn up on time—if at all. Even the weather might go against the smugglers and the landing might be cancelled, and then we’ll have to go through all this again.’ She sighed, feeling Lucas’s fingers so strong and yet, at the same time, warm and comforting. ‘I’m sorry, Lucas. I’m just being stupid, I know.’

His gaze was soft as it rested on her and he drank in his fill of the brimming devotion he saw in the depths of her deep blue eyes. ‘No, you are not. That damned villain Carlyle’s luck will be exceptional if I don’t see him captured before the night is out. Worry not, my love. Everything will be all right.’ He gently kissed her lips. ‘I will see to that personally.’

‘I know you will. I have every faith in you.’

Lucas watched in fascination as her hands unlaced the ties at her waist, and with one swift movement she stepped out of her skirts which threatened to impede her movement on the ride back to the manor. A pair of breeches was revealed. As he propped his shoulder against a tree, Lucas’s unswerving gaze became fixed on the lithesome female figure. At the sight of those hips and long, slim legs, outlined with anatomical precision by the close-fitting breeches, a crooked smile crossed his face and a low whistle passed between his lips.

‘Good lord!’ he chuckled. ‘What a strange turnout—and what a shape!’

‘I came prepared,’ she told him. He gave her such a long, deliciously wicked perusal that it took her breath away and brought a flush to her cheeks. Overcome with embarrassment, she found it strange that she should feel this way when he had seen her wearing nothing at all.

Lucas’s teeth gleamed white in a devilish smile. He was
much enamoured of this enchanting young creature who had reappeared in his life with such unquenchable
élan
. She was more woman than he had ever realised, and it was not the calculated femininity of all the other women who had gone before, but an easy, natural thing that never failed to stir his ardour—even now, when dangers pressed and time was of the essence.

The memory of that heart-wrenching look upon her face when she had told him she loved him had remained. At the time her admission had surprised him, and he had almost said he loved her too, but he hadn’t been certain, and the lie would have hurt her. Now he understood his emotions more clearly. Before they had made love he had been driven almost to the brink of distraction. He had wanted her so desperately, it seemed he had been denied her forever.

Every day he had watched her, every nerve in his body aware of her sensuality. Her body spoke invitation with every graceful movement—increasing his torment. She was a woman of passion untamed, of beauty and spirit, whom every man dreamed of possessing. He wanted her more than he had ever wanted anything in his life. He wanted to protect her, to cherish her, to fill her days with joy and her nights with pleasure.

At last he admitted the truth to himself. He had fallen in love with his wife. He couldn’t exactly say when his love had begun to grow, but he knew he’d loved her for some considerable time—perhaps from the very beginning and never realised it. Over thirty years of age and having had more affairs than he cared to remember, he had fallen in love with a young woman who had incurred his outrage by betrothing herself to his most hated enemy, obstinately refused to yield to his authority and frequently infuriated him as no woman had been able to—and yet at the same time she was enchanting, with a smile that warmed his heart and
a touch that inflamed his blood. What they had was special, and he could not imagine his future without her by his side.

‘Much as I would like to linger a while longer with you, my love,’ he murmured, ‘I would be failing in my duty if I didn’t show my face in the cove tonight.’

Laura looked at him sharply in the dwindling light. ‘Duty?’

‘Oh, yes, I assure you it is my duty—and I will explain it all to you later. I also know the meaning of pleasure,’ he told her, his narrowed eyes aglow, ‘and I must confess the sight of you in those breeches has brought it most forcibly to my recollection.’ The trust and love he saw in her eyes, which were shining like twin stars, destroyed his composure, and, reaching out, he drew her close into the circle of his arms and tasted the sweetness of her lips.

For a moment Laura swayed in his embrace, feeling her body respond eagerly to his touch. His kiss stole her breath, its warmth igniting a flame within her blood. He kissed her long and deep, and when he at last relinquished her lips he smiled in the most provocative way.

‘Perhaps before grim duty calls me, I can show you how adorable I think you are.’

‘Oh, Lucas,’ she breathed in a soft, trembling breath, thinking how utterly irresistible he was, with that heavy wave of hair slanting across his brow. ‘Is this some torture you’ve brewed up for me to take my mind off what lies ahead?’

‘Nay, love—not torture this,’ his ragged whisper came against her lips, ‘but love, as we will make it together later.’

Laura laughed, amazed that, with every imaginable danger ahead and the prospect of action, she should feel intensely, absurdly happy. ‘You will find me more than willing, Lucas, but right now we have no time to indulge our appetites further.’ A smile softened her words and her eyes sparkled with merriment.

Her smile was infectious and Lucas grinned roguishly.
‘Minx,’ he chuckled, playfully slapping her
derrière
and giving her a gentle push towards her horse. ‘Get on that horse before my ardour gets the better of me and all my well-laid plans are blown away on the wind. I shall find it difficult explaining my tardiness to Walter should I arrive too late in the cove.’

They mounted quickly and without another word left the seclusion of the buildings. Digging in their heels, they made off at a canter and headed back to Roslyn Manor. The night was solidly fixed upon the wild, forbidding landscape. The moon shone bright, but it would soon be hidden by the bank of cloud coming in from the sea, from which a light drizzle had begun to fall. They travelled a short cut back to the coast. Fortunately Lucas knew the country well, and there was no road or byway that was not familiar to him.

Her eyes having become accustomed to the dark, Laura glanced across at her husband. He was bent low over his horse’s neck and his cloak flew behind him like a demented being, revealing the pistol butt at his waist, and his rapier’s hilt twinkling every now and then when it was caught by the moonlight. Beneath his French cocked hat his face was set and intense.

This self-contained man had withdrawn from the intimacy of moments earlier. Laura realised that with a single-mindedness his thoughts were again upon the night’s purpose. Lucas knew they were facing a grave emergency, that from now on the momentum would build until it reached its inevitable climax, and for him there could only be one conclusion.

T
hey approached the manor with stealth, seeing no one. Concealed from view by a group of trees, they paused to see what was happening in the cove. It was a wild, cold night. The drizzle had ceased and the moon was lying lazily on her back—pale, giving little light, which was fortuitous for the men who made a practice out of outrunning the excise men, though they were challenged by the high winds which battered against them, forcing the clouds to race in a frenzy across the sky like wild things.

The leafless trees in the gardens at the manor lashed against themselves like tortured beings. The sea was enormous, built up around the horseshoe shape of Roslyn Cove, its breakers rolling and crashing onto the shore. Already there was movement on the beach, ghostly shapes of about thirty men or more who waited for the one-masted cutter, which carried no light, to come close enough to the shore to be relieved of its cargo. Lucas hoped that everything would go to plan—that Captain Dalby and his troops, along with Walter and the excise men on the ground, would show themselves at the right moment, and that the revenue cutter and coastguard would put in an appearance on time.

On reaching the stables a lad relieved them of their horses. Breathing hard, they hurried towards the house, nei
ther speaking until the door was closed behind them. An eerie quiet presided over the great house. When neither John nor George appeared Lucas became uneasy. Some sixth sense warned him that all was not as it should be. Moving into the centre of the hall, they glanced around. Candles had been lit, and they saw that the door to the part of the house that had been shut off until recently stood wide open. Lucas was conscious of a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach as the silence became more oppressive.

‘Go to your room and stay there, Laura,’ he said curtly, ‘and lock the door.’

If he had slapped her Laura could not have been more hurt or more bewildered by the tone of his voice. ‘But I don’t want to go to my room,’ she protested.

‘You will obey me in this,’ Lucas said sternly. ‘Nothing you say will change my mind.’

‘I don’t expect it would,’ she returned frostily, seizing hold of his arm when he was about to move away from her. ‘But I will not be alone, Lucas. I would prefer to be anywhere other than my room on such a night as this. I could not stand it.’

Her stare challenged him, her hauteur matching his own. He relented. ‘Then go to Caroline and let her know we have returned. Stay with her and lock yourselves in. I’ll go in search of George.’

After casting a worried glance around the hall he went bounding up the stairs, his boots a blur as he took them two at a time. At a slower pace Laura followed him, turning when she reached the top and going down the dimly lit gallery towards Caroline’s room. The door was ajar, which she thought rather odd. Pushing it open, she stepped inside.

‘Caroline. Caroline, where are you?’ She looked around. Her eyes dwelt on inconsequential things—the book on the floor, the dying embers of the fire, the candles fluttering in the draught from the open door. She was cold and terror struck at her heart. Something terrible had happened in this
room, she just knew it. Something evil still hovered in the air, and she knew that what they had all waited for and feared had found them. She hardly dared look in the cradle. Instinctively she knew it would be empty. Her fear confirmed, shaking all over, she ran out of the room. Please God, don’t let them be hurt. Don’t let them be harmed, she chanted hysterically in her mind as she hurried back to Lucas.

Passing the top of the stairs, she found him bent over John, who was sitting propped up against the wall, blood from a head wound matting his hair and having dried on his temple. George was further along the landing, struggling to his feet and holding his head with one hand.

‘Goodness! What has happened? Lucas,’ she cried, clutching his sleeve, unable to conceal her distress, ‘Caroline and Louis are gone.’

He stared up at her, his gaze probing hers and finding fear and alarm within the dark depths. ‘Gone?’ His tone was incredulous.

She nodded. ‘The room is empty. Is it possible that Anton’s cousin has got them—taken Caroline and Louis away?’

‘It’s not impossible.’

The look that came on her husband’s face turned Laura cold. ‘Oh, Lucas! Think of what he might do. Maybe she’s lying injured somewhere—unconscious, even, unable to care for Louis.’ The vision of little Louis lying helpless somewhere, at the mercy of a killer, set her mind on fire. ‘We must find them, and quickly.’

‘I did not think this would happen,’ Lucas uttered fiercely. ‘Not with George to protect them.’

Laura agreed. It was impossible to believe anyone would get the better of George, the strongest, finest pugilist in the area. He must have been taken by surprise. She bent to John’s level, her heart beating frantically. ‘John—George,’ she said, when the other injured man stumbled towards
them, still rubbing his head, ‘have either of you seen them? Do you know what’s happened to them?’

George shook his head to try and clear it. ‘I was hit from behind, my lady, and passed out. Mrs Treneer went to bed, but John and me were waiting for you to return. Never saw who it was. Don’t know where they came from or how they got in.’

‘Did you see anything, John?’ Lucas asked, hoping the aged servant wasn’t badly hurt. Lucas knew John was always alert for the comings and goings about the house and could not question him on that.

At that moment Mrs Treneer appeared in her night robe to see what all the fuss was about. Seeing George holding his head and her husband propped against the wall with blood on his face, overcome with concern, she hurried towards them. ‘Mercy on us!’ she panted, horrified as she bent over her husband to examine his wound. ‘Right bad you look. What happened to you, John—and you, George?’

‘They’ve been hit on the head,’ Lucas told her. ‘They both lost consciousness for a while, but try not to worry. They’re tough and will be all right in no time at all.’

‘Don’t fuss,’ John grumbled when his wife tried to help him to his feet.

‘Save your strength and let us help you.’ Lucas hoisted him up with little effort. ‘Can you walk?’

‘Aye,’ John replied, shaking his head in an attempt to banish the fuzz.

‘Good. Take him to bed, Mrs Treneer, and dress his wound. It isn’t serious but he must rest.’

When John was about to protest, Lucas scowled at him, trying to remain patient. ‘Go, John—you too, George. Let Mrs Treneer look at your wound. I must find Caroline and the babe. I am deeply concerned for their safety and time is of the essence.’

‘Of course it is.’ John was about to turn away, but he paused. ‘I strongly suspect whoever has taken them came
up by way of the tunnel into the lesser used part of the house. That would account for me and George not seeing him.’

Lucas nodded, his expression grim. ‘I think so, too.’

Laura looked at her husband as John, supported by his wife, left them. ‘Tunnel? You mean there really is a tunnel?’

‘Yes. I’ve used it myself on occasion.’

Of course he had, Laura realised with sudden clarity. It would explain how he had been able to come and go without her being aware of his presence when he’d first arrived, how he’d suddenly come upon her that day she’d been in the closed part of the house, and when he’d suddenly appeared on the beach when she’d encountered Edward. Strangely it came as no surprise. In fact, nothing surprised her about this husband of hers.

‘But how on earth could Jean de Mournier discover its existence, if, as John suggested, that was how he entered the manor?’

Lucas’s scowl took on the deeper crease of his growing worry. ‘I have no idea, unless Carlyle knows about it and told him.’

‘Yes, that would explain it.’

‘I must leave you to see what is happening. My concern must be to find Caroline and Louis. Stay here.’

Laura’s heart sank with dismay, but, determined not to be left behind, she set her jaw mutinously, her eyes shining with determination. ‘I will do nothing of the sort. I’m coming with you.’

‘No, you’re not. You’ll be safer here.’ His mouth was set in a grim line. ‘For once in your life you will do exactly as you’re told. You are far too stubborn for your own good.’

Laura, not to be deterred, squared her chin and met his gaze head-on. ‘You can say what you like but I will not stay here. Besides, Caroline might have need of me.’

Acutely aware of the need for haste, reluctantly Lucas relented. ‘Very well. But when I tell you to keep out of sight you do as I say. Is that clear?’

Her ill humour forgotten, Laura nodded.

‘You are being extremely difficult,’ Lucas remarked, raising a disgruntled brow at her as he strode towards the stairs.

‘I would have you know that I am never difficult,’ Laura was quick to insist, almost having to run to keep up with his long stride. ‘Save, of course, for those times when you aggravate me into being so.’

‘It will be hazardous down there,’ Lucas reminded her, moving quickly down the stairs. ‘I’d never forgive myself if some harm came to you. I couldn’t bear to lose you.’

The genuine concern in his voice touched Laura and warmed her heart. She praised God that it was so, that he was all hers and would be so forever more, but until he told her that he loved her a shadow of doubt would always remain. ‘Don’t look so gloomy. You need have no fears for me. I will behave and not do anything rash. I promise you.’

Lucas stopped and drew her close to him. ‘If you do, my love, I will tell you now that I will never forgive you.’

‘Worry not, Lucas,’ she whispered, momentarily managing to overcome her anxiety for Caroline and Louis and force a little smile to her lips. ‘I shall still be here to plague you.’

Passing quickly through the kitchen to the cellar head, Lucas paused to pick up a lantern and small tinderbox. Lifting the shutter, he lit the tallow candle and urged her to follow him. With the lantern’s glow cast before them they went down to the wine cellars, where Lucas told her the entrance to the tunnel was located. They sped down a narrow passage between empty wine racks until they came to the end. Lucas pressed a spot above one of the panels in the wall, and Laura stared in astonishment as it moved
inwards with a soft scraping noise to reveal a low, narrow opening, just large enough for a person to pass through.

‘It’s odd that I never found it,’ she mused aloud. ‘But then I’ve always disliked the cellars and only came down when it was necessary.’

Lucas went into the tunnel first, indicating for her to follow. Stepping tentatively inside, she experienced a moment of panic when the panel closed behind her.

‘Follow me and tread carefully,’ he said, keeping his voice low. ‘As you see, the tunnel is extremely narrow and the floor dangerously uneven in places.’

Laura nodded and shivered as she began her descent into the heart of the rock itself, feeling the cold, dank air wrapping itself about her. Enveloped in a sickly orange glow, they moved deeper into the rock, their bodies casting grotesque, inhuman shapes on the running wet walls. Unhampered by skirts, Laura moved easily in her breeches, taking care not to stumble on the rocky floor, which was extremely slippery in places.

The deeper they went the stronger came the smell and salty taste of the sea. It seemed an eternity before they reached the end, when, in fact, it had taken them just a few minutes. The small, almost invisible entrance was high up, the peculiar twisting formation of the rock making it impossible to see from below unless one knew of its existence. Lucas indicated where Laura should place her feet, holding her hand as she climbed down.

They were in a small chamber deep inside the cliff beneath the manor. Her eyes alighting on a small white object at her feet, Laura stooped and picked it up. It was a baby’s bonnet—Louis’s bonnet, proof that they had come this way. She clutched it to her breast with rising panic, and when she would have spoken Lucas placed a finger to her lips, indicating the need for silence. His face was taut, his eyes alert, and a muscle throbbed along his jaw. They moved
into another larger chamber, which gave way to more tunnels interspaced with chambers.

When Lucas put out the lantern, Laura found the inky blackness total and terrifying. Holding her hand, he moved cautiously, feeling his way along the wall. Gradually their eyes became accustomed to the gloom. Suddenly there was a pool of grey light ahead of them, and the noise of the sea and crashing of the waves on the rocks filled the quiet chamber and made the darkness reverberate with a hollow drone. They moved with stealth to the mouth of the cave, which was inaccessible at high tide.

Suddenly Laura started when half a dozen figures materialised out of the dark to the side of the entrance, but she relaxed when she recognised Squire Ainsworth. Lucas wasn’t surprised to find him there. Obviously this was part of the plan and they were lying in wait, careful not to show themselves until the enemy actually appeared. Two of the men were excise men, and the others three of Captain Dalby’s uniformed dragoons. All were armed with pistols and swords.

‘Everything seems to be going to plan,’ Walter told Lucas in a low voice. ‘They are not expecting us. Carlyle placed two lookouts on the cliff-top, but Captain Dalby has taken care of them. They’ve run straight into the trap we set for them. They cannot escape.’ His words carried conviction.

‘Where are the rest of the troops?’

‘Dalby has them placed strategically around the cove. They have orders to hold their fire unless any of the smugglers try to escape, and not to invade the beach until Dalby gives the signal. The revenue cutter with the coastguard on board is due to appear at any time.’

Lucas nodded, his face grim. ‘Congratulations, Walter. You appear to have thought of everything.’

‘I hope so. I’ve been after Carlyle too long to allow him to slip through my fingers tonight.’

Falling silent, they moved towards the entrance and looked out. The one-masted cutter which had brought the contraband from France carried no light. It bobbed about like a cockleshell on the heaving water, perilously close to the cliffs. Edward’s men were mere shadows in the dim light, coming and going between the boat and the sands, wading through the freezing water, moving with precision and urgency, their minds set on their purpose—bumping kegs and packages up the beach to the packhorses and wagons that waited like phantoms to carry the booty across the moor before dawn. They had come quickly and with stealth, and would return the same way.