Helen Dickson (7 page)

Uncertain of his mood, and with a sense that he had momentarily forgotten she was there, Laura remained still, watching him.

After a moment Lucas’s gaze came to rest on her once more. A shaft of light slanting through the window fell on her small proud head with its crown of shining curls. With her delicate hands clasped in front of her, her dark eyes were watching him intently, causing something to stir within his heart.

She was completely female, not just feminine but womanly, lovely, and she also had the softest, most inviting mouth he had ever seen. There was a vulnerability about her, a sweet, wild essence that still belonged to the girl he had married, and he remembered how these qualities had appealed to him as much then as they did now. Despite the unpleasant circumstances which had led to their marriage, he had felt proud to have her at his side on their wedding day.

Unconsciously she reached up a hand to brush away a wisp of hair, and the movement of her arm lifted the rounded fullness of her young breast. Lucas’s eyes narrowed in appreciation and he felt his blood run warm in his veins and the heat of it move to his belly.

He didn’t understand why Laura had such a volatile effect on him, but he understood that he wanted her, wanted her soft and willing in his arms. He tried to tell himself that this growing fascination with his wife was merely lust caused by two long years of abstinence, but he knew it was more than lust that held him enthralled.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, he moved closer to where she stood and looked down at her. His expression was grave and serious, at the same time inquiring. ‘Do you enjoy your life at the manor, Laura?’ he asked unexpectedly. ‘A young woman—alone in this great house without company?’

‘I—I have John and his wife.’

‘They’re good, loyal people, I grant you, but they are servants.’

‘Their position has nothing to do with it. I have become extremely fond of them both, and class them as my friends.’

‘Do you not long for the gaieties of city life?’ he asked, watching her closely. ‘I wouldn’t blame you if you had chosen to seek the social whirl. Do you regret not doing so?’

‘Do I look regretful? I don’t long for any kind of social whirl,’ Laura told him frankly. ‘I am happy here and never lonely.’

‘Nevertheless, London can be a very alluring place to a young woman who suddenly finds herself an extremely rich widow. Your protected upbringing would never have prepared you for the situation you found yourself in on my alleged demise. Weren’t you tempted to leave all this behind? After all, it meant nothing to you.’

‘No,’ she said quickly, offended that he might think that and eager to make him understand otherwise. ‘I’m not like that. When you know me better you will see that I do not shake off my responsibilities so easily, Lucas. I told you last night that I considered it my duty to remain, and that I have come to love this place. I did not speak lightly. Oh,
it can be unnerving when there is a storm,’ she admitted, ‘and at times the wind does seem to buffet the house so hard I often think it’s about to be blown off its perch. Sometimes it shrieks so loud I feel frightened when I hear it.’

‘And yet you stay.’

‘Yes. It’s my home. Besides,’ she said, the trace of a smile tugging at her lips, ‘what sort of figure do you think I should cut in London without the right escort?’

‘You have your brother and his wife, and Carlyle is often in London, I hear. Did he not ask you to accompany him?’

‘No. And if he had I would have refused,’ she said with absolute honesty.

‘But you must miss your brother and his family,’ Lucas persisted.

‘I told you that I have seen them recently. Philip and Jane brought the children to Roslyn for the summer months.’ She looked sideways at him. ‘Are you, by any chance, telling me that I should not have stayed at the manor after all, Lucas? Are you trying to get rid of me?’

Lucas shook his head. ‘No, indeed,’ he answered, ‘and I am extremely grateful that you didn’t desert the old house and those dependent on the family for subsistence. But, on reflection, I realise that it can’t have been easy for you.’

‘It was a difficult time, I admit that, but the way I saw it I had no choice.’

Lucas smiled and ran a finger down her cheek, gently taking hold of a stray curl and hooking it behind her ear, thinking how adorable she looked with her hair all mussed up and smudges of dirt on her lovely face.

‘I have every reason to be grateful to you for your loyalty. You certainly looked after my interests in my absence. I can see I could not have left my affairs in more capable hands.’ He nodded slowly, his astute gaze on her face while a slow smile drifted across his own. ‘You’re a strange creature, Laura, and not a conventional one. I can see that. Just
as I think I’m getting to know you, some new trait shows itself.’

‘May God spare me from being predictable,’ she laughed, quite appalled by the idea and sharing his humour.

‘Something tells me you’ll never be that. That’s your appeal,’ Lucas responded quietly. He gave her a long, silent look, and then moved away. ‘I have things to do and I shall disrupt your work no longer.’

‘What are you planning to do with yourself today?’ Laura asked, reluctant to see him go.

‘Oh, this and that,’ he replied casually, shooting her a brief smile before disappearing out of the door.

Alone once more, Laura wandered around, mechanically going about her chores. Her emotions seemed to be all over the place, and thoughts of Lucas filled her head. She had a feeling that something deep inside him was reaching out to her, and, finding an answering response in her, this strong, magnetic pull was drawing them closer together. The thought warmed her.

Despite their volatile encounter on the road last night and the angry words they had exchanged—when Lucas had made it plain that he expected complete obedience from her, that she would be governed by him and bend to his will—every instinct that she possessed told her that he was a sensitive man, capable of great gentleness as well as strength.

Laura waited all day for Lucas to return to the house. When he failed to do so and the light began to fade, she went in search of John. ‘I thought our guest would have returned by now, John. Would you instruct George to saddle my horse? I think I’ll ride to Stennack. I believe that is where I shall find him—don’t you?’

‘Aye, my lady. That’s where he’ll be.’ John watched her go, seeing there was an added spring to her step, and that
her large eyes were aglow and animated. He smiled, his wrinkled face alight with happiness for her.

Laura rode along the narrow, winding path along the top of the cliffs, with Stennack always within her sights. She breathed deeply the crisp October air, tasting the salt of the sea on her lips. She came to a place where the land was broken by a fast-flowing stream which looped its way through the valley below, among marshes and reedbeds, until it was funnelled into a deep lagoon.

Following the path down, she paused, gazing at the still waters, quiet and beautiful, but, as everyone in these parts knew, depending on the weather, this could change and be quite frightening. Over the years several drownings had occurred here, and at least one ghost was reputed to walk and disappear into the cold and mysterious black depths.

But this did not trouble Laura, her mind being too preoccupied with other matters. At the end of the lagoon the water spilled into Roslyn Cove, running out to the sea. Slowly she followed its course, the precipitously wooded cliffs rising on either side. At the point where the river ran onto the sands the rocks fused above, forming an archway through which she could see the sea beyond, with the last rays of the setting sun resting on its dark waters with a translucent clarity.

Further out in the cove there was a large number of rocks, some of which showed themselves at half-tide, some at low water, but by far the greater of these never appeared at all. Many stricken ships had met their doom on these submerged rocks. The coastline with its small, sandy beaches was littered with the naked bones of wrecks. It had many hidden coves and creeks and inaccessible caves, which together gave rise to tales of smuggling and wrecking.

When Laura had first come to Roslyn there had been excitement and romance in some of these tales, but after she had borne witness to one ill-fated ship that had run
aground on the rocks during a storm the reality had destroyed the romance. She had seen with her own eyes the ruthless desperation of the men and women who had come from the nearby hamlets and surged into the cove to salvage what they could when the spoils of the sea were dragged onto the beach, all half crazy and behaving like animals as they made sure there were no survivors from the stricken vessel.

Roslyn Cove was better situated than most. It was an ideal place for vessels from France to deposit their cargoes of contraband. The cliff was riddled with caves and chambers beneath Roslyn Manor, and it was rumoured that there was a tunnel linking them to the house, but Laura had never found it.

Contraband was often stored in the caves until the dark nights when the packhorses and wagons would come and take it away across the moor, the majority of it destined for London. Because of the reputation of this part of the coast, where smuggling was carried out with great skill and cunning, and which was so extensive it was virtually impossible for the coastguards and revenue cutters to control, Laura had learned to tread warily, and to hold her tongue.

Following the path up to the top of the cliff on the other side, she looked further west, where the coastline continued to trace its intricate way in and out of tiny coves and around the handsome headlands as far as Fowey’s graceful river and town.

Eventually she reached the ill-fated mine. A sad, melancholy air hung over the granite engine house. Ladders, still in their places in the open shaft, led down to complete and utter darkness, to the secret heart of the mine, to the silent, watery grave of twenty men and boys. Mother nature had long since claimed the ground and burrows of waste, which had once blighted the landscape and offended the eye. All were reminders of what had once been.

Apart from a horse with a jacket tossed over the saddle
tethered to a post, the place looked deserted. Laura dismounted and stood on the edge of a grassy plateau, turning her face to the sea, the calm water mirroring her mood. With the sun sinking in a golden glow on the sea, in the gathering gloom she could just make out a small ship drawing towards the land, and she watched the tiny figures of twenty or so oarsmen heaving to and fro. Suddenly, somewhere up above, a gull gave out a persistent cry, rending a chill through her bones, and she shuddered, drawing her cloak about her.

Emerging from the engine house, rubbing oil from his hands with a rag, Lucas halted when he saw Laura. He began to walk across the rough ground, drawn compulsively to the woman who was his wife. His footsteps made no sound on the grass, so she was unaware of his approach. The gentle breeze blowing from the sea stirred her cloak about her feet, and lifted her heavy hair, which fell over her shoulders in a riotous tumble of blue-black curls.

Dressed in white shirt and fawn breeches, his black hair drawn back and fastened at the nape of his neck with a thin black ribbon, Lucas moved to stand behind her, tossing the rag aside.

‘Are you looking for me?’ he asked.

L
aura started and turned around on an embarrassed laugh, her smiling face beguilingly flushed from her ride. ‘Yes. You were gone so long. John told me this was where you might be. Aren’t you afraid someone might see you and recognise you?’

Shoving his hands deep into his pockets, he shrugged casually, his eyes resting momentarily on the small vessel nosing its way to shore, leaving a creamy foam in its wake. ‘No one comes here any more. They’re afraid—afraid of the dead still down there,’ he said, jerking his head at the gaping mine shaft.

In place of the cold animosity that had marked his mood when they had met for the first time last night, which had been followed by a more relaxed, amiable Lucas, Laura now perceived an air of serious preoccupation about him. There were so many contradictions to his character that she wondered if she would ever really understand him. His gaze wandered over the derelict mine, and she could sense how attached he was to it. It obviously meant something special to him, and it must hurt him grievously to witness such rampant neglect.

Her face softened and her lovely eyes glowed like bright blue jewels as she gazed up at him. ‘John told me about
Stennack and the tragedy that forced it to close. He also told me it was your intention to reopen it. Do you still intend doing so?’

He nodded, his gaze passing over the engine house and empty sheds. ‘I do. Until the sea broke in it was still productive, with copper seams far from exhausted. Mining experts I brought in before my…alleged demise spent weeks exploring Stennack for lodes of tin and copper. They confirmed what I already knew, that there is plenty to be had. It’s my intention to have the mine up and working very soon. Plans are already underway to install a new pumping engine.’

‘But how is it possible to reopen it? You cannot beat back the sea.’

‘I have no intention of trying. But Stennack wasn’t flooded entirely. I am going to concentrate on another part of it—sink another shaft—extend in other directions. With so much unemployment in the area I’m certain people will welcome the work—and it might take their mind off other, illegal ways of earning a living,’ he said drily, knowing that, with the knowledge his wife had acquired of the people of Roslyn and their predilection for foreign goods, she would comprehend his meaning.

His gaze travelled west along the coast, where he could make out the engine house of another, working mine— Wheal Rose. ‘There is only one mine, Wheal Rose, operating in the whole district, and from what I know of it production is low and the mine in danger of closing.’

‘Wheal Rose belongs to Edward, and I know he would disagree with what you say. He has told me he intends to sink another shaft—in fact, I believe he’s already started.’

Lucas frowned, concerned by this. ‘I know, and that worries me.’

‘But why should it? He too has called in the experts, who have told him there are rich lodes under the sea.’

‘Stennack and Wheal Rose run side by side. Think about
it. The minute Carlyle begins blasting his way under the sea, he’ll have all the flooded southern reaches of Stennack standing over him. There are some old workings with extremely thin walls. Imagine what might happen when he starts blasting.’

Laura paled. The thought horrified her. ‘But Edward is no fool. He must know all that.’

‘I doubt it. I only found out myself the other day by studying some old maps of my father’s. That is why—when it is no longer necessary for me to keep my presence at Roslyn secret—I must approach him to discuss the matter.’

Surprised, Laura gave him a questioning glance. ‘Can you do that—feeling as you do about him?’

‘Much as I would like to see him turning on a spit over hot coals,’ he ground out, ‘I have no choice. Many lives could perish if he goes ahead with his plans.’

His scathing sarcasm sliced through Laura like a razor. Suddenly a cold blast of wind blew off the sea, whipping her hair about her face. She shuddered, disturbed by the elements, disturbed by the emotions inside her. But, not wishing to spoil the harmony between them, when she spoke she kept her voice steady. ‘I am sure that when Edward is presented with the facts, he will abandon his plans for Wheal Rose. He would not do anything to endanger the lives of others.’

‘If you believe that then you are a fool and do not know him.’

Laura winced at his tone. ‘Yes, I do. I know him well enough.’

Lucas’s eyes pierced hers as the thought suddenly occurred to him that his lovely young wife might still harbour tender feelings for Carlyle. She was his wife, yet he did not possess her, and he could not bear to think that the sweet, wild essence of her might belong to Edward Carlyle.

‘You are quick to defend him,’ he accused, his voice much harsher now, his silver gaze searching her face. ‘Is
there something I should worry about? Did you love him, Laura? Do you still love him?’

Laura had not expected him to ask her that. Her mouth went dry, and her heart began to race with a terrifying beat as she sensed Lucas had withdrawn from her. This aloof, icy stranger who looked at her coldly bore no resemblance to the amiable, gentle man of last night. It was the man she had met on the road that she now saw. It was as if the closeness they had shared had never existed.

‘Bearing in mind that until last night I was to be his wife, would it be so hard to believe?’ she asked.

‘With him it is,’ Lucas said grimly, dissatisfied with her reply. ‘Go on, for I cannot believe that you love that pompous upstart.’

‘I am not obliged to discuss my feelings with you, Lucas.’

His jaw tightened. ‘Yes, you are.’

Laura glared at him, visibly struggling with a growing resentment and anger, which made her eyes gleam like two hard, deep blue stones. ‘And if I do love him?’

‘So much the worse for you,’ he said coldly. ‘At all events, he’s lost you.’

‘Edward has never treated me with anything but courtesy. He was kind and considerate to me at a time when I needed friends. I feel terrible about hurting him—and his mother. I must write to her to explain things, and I promise not to mention you.’

‘Send a letter, by all means,’ Lucas went on, in the implacable, authoritative tone of one issuing an edict. ‘But I forbid you to call on her or go anywhere that might bring you into contact with Carlyle. And for the time being there must be no more riding about the countryside—unattended or otherwise. I want that understood.’

The bright colour of indignation exploded over Laura’s cheeks. ‘And if Edward and his mother should call at Roslyn?’

‘You will not receive them. John will tell them you are not at home.’

‘You expect John to lie?’

A pair of cold grey eyes regarded her dispassionately. ‘If necessary.’

Laura stared at him, unable to accept his determination to force his formidable will on her in this unreasonable and unacceptable manner, to dominate her so completely. Last night he had told her that he would allow no one to interfere with anything that belonged to him and she was very sure that he had meant it.

‘Edward is our neighbour. It is inevitable that we will meet at some function or other in the future.’

‘We will worry about that when the time comes.’

‘I see. And in the meantime you expect me to do your bidding, to dutifully accept your authority and remain at Roslyn—a virtual prisoner in my own home?’

‘That is exactly what I expect you to do,’ he told her in a voice that brooked no further debate. Abruptly he turned from her and directed his attention to the ship, which was closer now.

‘Lucas, please do not speak to me like that—please. Why are you doing this? I have done no wrong,’ she told him, as though her insistence would convince him. ‘I feel as if you are accusing me of something of which I am innocent. I feel no guilt. Does your hatred of Edward extend to me, simply because I agreed to be his wife—blind as I was at the time to his character and believing you were dead?’

Lucas looked down at her, seeing how her chin was squared up to him, and how her eyes had darkened in her proud challenge to his authority. With a muttered oath he took a step away from her and stood facing the sea with his back to her. He shook his head as if to clear it. What the hell was wrong with him? He was being petty and unreasonable and behaving like a jealous idiot, as her expression said so clearly.

Laura had been alone for two long years, without being under the direction of men. She was not submissive, pliant or willing to be moulded by the whims of others, he could see that. For too long she had been her own mistress, made her own decisions, taken charge—admirably so—and he could not blame her when she rebelled against his authority.

‘You are a damned attractive woman, Laura, and I don’t take kindly to Carlyle fawning over you. I do not hate you,’ he said crisply, without removing his gaze from the oncoming vessel, ‘far from it, and I am not deliberately being cruel. Very soon you will understand the reason for it all.’

Sensing his preoccupation, she moved to stand beside him, following his gaze and looking with little interest at the oncoming vessel for several moments. Then she tore her eyes from it and looked at her husband—and in a blinding flash she knew.

Her gaze searched his face, and her voice was shattered. ‘That ship has come for you, hasn’t it, Lucas? It has something to do with that final mission you spoke of, hasn’t it? You are going away?’

‘Yes. I must,’ he replied, understanding the enormous significance of what his leaving would mean to her. However, he was unprepared for her violent reaction to it.

Laura thought she could not have heard right. There was absolute finality in the way he’d said it. Immediately resentment and pain tore through her, turning to outright animosity. ‘What an arrogant, conceited beast you are, Lucas Mawgan, to think you can berate me as savagely as you did last night, and then placate me with a few lukewarm words, and then have the audacity to calmly tell me that you are to disappear. You cannot do this to me again. It isn’t right. It isn’t fair.’

He lifted his head, and even though his voice was soft it was steady and resolute. ‘Don’t make this hard, Laura. I have to go. I must.’

‘And what if you don’t come back? Must I go through
it all again? For pity’s sake, Lucas, how will I know if you are dead or alive? Do I have to go through the rest of my life wondering? Why do you go? Can you at least tell me that?’ she demanded irately.

‘No. I return to France. More than that I cannot say.’

‘Is it the government that sends you?’

‘It is a private matter,’ he answered curtly.

‘I see. So,’ she said, taking a deep, ragged breath, ‘this is to be the pattern of our future together, is it? Two years we have been married and not four days have we been together. If I had not followed you to the mine, Lucas, I have no doubt at all in my mind that you would have left in secret without a word to me.’ Her laugh was choked and bitter.

‘That is not true. I would not have done that.’

‘Are you always going to put your work first?’ she asked, almost adding, before me, but as she searched that hard, sardonic face for some sign that he felt something, anything for her she knew she was right not to.

‘I will come back, and I promise this will be the last time I go away.’

‘I do not believe you,’ she cried angrily. ‘Don’t you trust me? Is that it?’

‘Of course I trust you—but I have to protect you. There are certain things you are better off not knowing.’

‘Anything is better than ignorance,’ she persisted, her voice holding an edge of scorn.

‘When I return all will be made clear.’

‘Is there to be no end to your cruelty? Are you always going to do exactly as you please and be damned to me?’ Furious, with tears in her eyes, she brushed past him and strode towards her horse, rage and shock propelling her with unusual speed, unable to believe it was all to begin again.

His face darkening with annoyance, Lucas remained a
pace behind her, but halfway there he caught her and pulled her back around, his hands clamped on her arms.

‘Let go of me,’ she demanded, fighting against his hold.

‘Will you stop dancing about and listen to what I have to say?’ Despite her haughty stance, Lucas saw that her lovely eyes, as well as hurling daggers at him, were shimmering with tears. Guilt pierced him. Placing his hands on either side of her face, he turned it up to his, gentling his voice.

‘My departure is indeed painful to me—more painful than you can possibly imagine. I know how difficult things have been for you, Laura. When I was in my prison cell I thought of you often—of what you must be going through—and I went through hell because I couldn’t get out and put things right. I couldn’t even send you a letter. When I return things will get better. I promise.’

‘Don’t insult my intelligence by pretending to care for my wishes. If you did you wouldn’t go away.’

Lucas was relieved to hear the anger lessening. ‘Hopefully, if things go to plan, I shall be gone a week at the most.’

Laura silently thanked God for this, at least. ‘And is it dangerous—this mission?’ she asked, deeply conscious of the feel of his firm hands on her cheeks.

There was a tiny quaver of fear in her voice, and when Lucas heard it something inside him snapped. ‘I would be lying if I told you it wasn’t.’

‘Then don’t go,’ she pleaded. ‘It’s far too risky. If you’re captured a second time, you’ll—you’ll be killed. Aren’t you afraid the French navy might waylay you before you reach France?’

‘Owing to a recruitment of inexperienced officers and crew now the serving aristocratic officers have been arrested, the French navy—like everything else about that country—is in disarray.’ He sighed deeply, gently smoothing the soft flesh of her cheeks with his thumbs, his gaze
holding hers. ‘I have to go, Laura. It’s something I have to do.’

‘You’d risk the guillotine?’

‘I’d risk anything.’

‘It means that much to you?’

‘More than anything. It involves a very dear friend of mine—and a promise I made to him before he died. It is a promise I have to keep, otherwise I could not live with myself.’

Laura stared at him. His face was hard, the muscles tight, and there was an expression in his grey eyes that she did not recognise. She saw the hurt and pain of a troubled man, which alarmed her. She couldn’t lose him, she couldn’t bear it, but the only way she could convince him of how deeply she felt was to let him go. Whatever it was that he had to do, she must let him go with her blessing. Her decision made, the feeling of loss returned, worse than ever before. The fear that he might not come back returned as well.