Margo Maguire (20 page)

Because of Lilly, he was free of his phobia, and able to return to the life he loved, a life that only this morning he could not have imagined without her.

He’d wanted to see the sights of India with Lilly, to set up housekeeping in a big, open tent. To ride an elephant with his arms around her, to scavenge the markets and find exotic treasures for her.

And they would spend hours in their bed, the fine
mesh of mosquito netting cocooning them together, night after night. Lilly would have loved it.

Knowing something of the power she possessed, Sam wondered why she hadn’t visited any of the places she was so keen to experience. Why she hadn’t
transported
herself somehow to Egypt. Or to ancient Rome. She had so many books. He’d seen her poring over the pictures of Rome and Athens. Why didn’t she just go where she wanted?

Sam’s hair was slick with rainwater, and he jabbed his fingers through it.
Lilly hadn’t gone anywhere.

She had the power to do anything she liked, to go anywhere, be anything. Yet she stayed at Ravenwell and looked after Charlotte. Made a life for the two of them at the inn.

Why hadn’t she restored Charlotte’s hearing if that was such a problem?

He shoved his hands into his pockets and began to pace again, oblivious of the rain. Why did she work so hard to keep Ravenwell Cottage solvent, when she could very likely conjure up as much money as she needed to cover her debts?

Hell, she could make herself and Charlotte rich.

Lilly had no servants, other than Davy and the help she brought in from town. She owned no elegant clothes or jewelry, but wore just the serviceable gowns she needed for business every day. She did her gardening on her hands and knees, and hosted the supper hour every evening. She used no magic for any of that. It seemed that she used it only rarely, when there was absolutely no other way.

When they’d come together at the chestnut tree, she’d been trying to tell him that she couldn’t leave Ravenwell with him, but he hadn’t listened. He’d
been so full of love for her, full of plans and schemes for their future, that he hadn’t paid attention.

And he hadn’t listened to her when she’d run down to the beach to escape the questions she knew he would have.

He thought of her standing in the water, her skirts sodden, her arms hugging her waist. Her face had been a picture of absolute misery. Sam didn’t think it was because she’d lied to him.

It was because she’d never wanted anyone to know what she could do. She hadn’t made him fall in love with her. There would have been no point, since she couldn’t leave Ravenwell, anyway.

His belly churned. Of course she hadn’t told him of her talents. If he had believed her, which was doubtful, there was a good chance that he would think she was an oddity. A perversion.

But she wasn’t. She was sweet and generous. She was strong and intelligent. And he had doubted her.

Absently Sam picked up his bag and started walking away from the station, with no destination in mind. It was wrong of him to leave Lilly this way. She might be a sorceress, but she’d become his lover last night. And her reactions to their joining had been naive, ingenuous. Sam couldn’t believe there’d been any magic involved, other than what they’d created together.

He walked up the main street of Asbury and thought of the way she’d tried to tell him she hadn’t bewitched him. Sam hadn’t given her a chance. He’d been shocked, bombarded by disbelief in the miracle he’d seen with his own eyes. Charlotte’s distress had been no illusion.

And Lilly had cured her with a thought.

Sam couldn’t imagine what a burden it must be, having to guard her thoughts at all times. If she didn’t, strange things would be happening all around her, with every whim.

Or perhaps that wasn’t how it worked.

People hurried past Sam carrying umbrellas, but he walked dazedly through town, past the tea shop, beyond Mr. Beecher’s store. He could see Saint Jerome’s steeple above the trees at the end of town, where Alan Graham was probably planning his next visit to Ravenwell.

Hell.

Sam started backtracking to Beecher’s Store when a young woman suddenly burst from the chemist’s shop. It was Charlotte Gray, and she was running toward the road that led to Ravenwell. An extremely thin woman with graying hair and a pinched expression followed her, calling, “Wait! Stop!”

C
harlotte, of course, did not hear the woman’s calls. Clearly distressed, she lifted her skirts and sprinted as though her life depended upon it.

Sam dropped his valise and ran after her. He didn’t know why she was in town, or where Lilly was, but something was definitely wrong.

Charlotte wasn’t aware of him, but kept running until he took hold of her arm and stopped her. She made a soft sound and grabbed his soggy sleeve.

“What is it, Charlotte?” he asked. “What’s the matter?”

“Foolish child,” said a stern woman’s voice. “She’s a ninny. Doesn’t understand a thing.”

Sam turned on her, pushing Charlotte behind him. “Ma’am, if there’s any ninny here on the street, I can assure you it isn’t Charlotte. It’s not me, either.”

“Why, I—”

“You can stop blustering and tell me why Charlotte’s running from you, before I find a constable…or whatever kind of civil authority you’ve got here.”

“Well, I have no idea why she would run.” The
woman puffed up her scrawny chest and had the gall to use an indignant tone. “Mr. Dawson asked me to bring this…this
young lady
to town and give her tea in my home. All I ever did was—”

“Mr. Dawson? From Ravenwell?”

“The very same,” the woman said, cringing in the rain. “He said it was important that I keep her here until precisely six o’clock. And since he is such a kind gentleman, I thought it only fair to do him this small favor.”

Charlotte clung to the back of Sam’s jacket as if her life depended upon it, and she was soaked and shivering with cold.

The woman started to walk away. “Lady!” Sam called to her. “Why did Dawson want Charlotte away from the inn?”

She turned and looked at him over her shoulder, then spoke in an overly dignified tone that was barely loud enough for Sam to hear. “I am not privy to all that goes on at Ravenwell, sir. But I’ve done what was asked of me. I do not care if you take her back now—it will be well past six when you arrive.”

Sam narrowed his eyes and gritted his teeth. “What did Dawson say?”

“No more than I’ve told you,” she retorted, then resumed walking.

Sam swore under his breath. Dawson was up to something and Sam was certain it wasn’t anything good. He had to get back to Ravenwell and see that Lilly was all right, but what was he going to do with Charlotte in the meantime?

He pulled off his sodden coat and draped it around her shoulders, then led her back to the street where he’d left his bag.

“Where can we rent a buggy?” he asked, making signals so that she would understand.

Charlotte indicated that he should follow her and she would show him.

Staying clear of the chemist’s shop, they went down a side lane, away from the center of town. Several large barns lined the road, and Charlotte took him to the farthest one, a blacksmith’s shop.

The door was open and it was warm inside, owing to the fire in a stone hearth near the far wall. A young man in a leather apron was hanging tools on a rack nearby. He turned when Sam called out a hello.

“I’m just about to close up for the night,” he said, but when his eyes alighted on Charlotte, his gaze softened.

“You know Miss Charlotte from Ravenwell?” Sam asked, willing to use any ploy to expedite matters. He couldn’t get back to Ravenwell quickly enough to suit him.

The blacksmith blushed and gave a curt nod.

“We got caught in the rain and she’s chilled. Have you got a covered buggy I can rent to take us out to Ravenwell?”

“I do.” Wiping his hands on a cloth, he named his price and Sam paid him, agreeing to have the rig back the following day.

Sam and the blacksmith hitched a horse to the buggy, then Sam gave Charlotte a lift up. He drove out of the barn, and when they passed the chemist’s shop, Charlotte tapped his arm to tell him something, but Sam couldn’t give her his attention now. He had to get them out of town without further incident.

The rain continued to pour as they drove through the muddy ruts, and Sam could only hope they could
make it home before the road became impassable. He had to get to Lilly. He loved her.

Lilly was the other half of his soul. And incredibly, she was a sorceress. Sam would just have to trust that she hadn’t used her magic on him.

Perhaps that was what Jack had meant when he’d told Sam that it wasn’t possible to fully explain the world in scientific terms. That he’d have to take some things on faith.

He’d been an idiot to leave Lilly. She hadn’t bewitched him—at least, no more than any ordinary woman might have done. She was beautiful and caring, patient with Charlotte and the Ravenwell staff. Her friendliness was what made Ravenwell successful, more than her ghosts. He loved her smile and her touch, and if all those things added up to some sort of witchery, he cherished it.

Sam pulled the buggy to the side of the road when he saw a man on horseback speeding toward them. The fellow had to be a lunatic, kicking up mud and riding so recklessly in this weather.

Charlotte stood up and grabbed Sam’s arm. She made a sound and pointed at the rider. Sam looked closer and realized it was Tom Fletcher.

Sam stood up, too, and shouted.

A moment later, Tom brought the Ravenwell gelding to a halt and dismounted. He tore off his hat, jumped up on the buggy and took Charlotte in his arms. “I’m never letting you out of my sight again,” he muttered. Then he kissed her, and Sam noticed that it was not the chaste peck of a brother, or a childhood friend.

As he’d suspected, there was more to Fletcher’s relationship with Charlotte than Lilly knew.

What perfect irony. If Lilly had known about Tom and Charlotte, she might have felt free to leave Ravenwell.

Tom released her and they spoke together for a moment in their silent language. Then Tom turned to Sam. “Lilly’s gone missing. First Charlotte, now Lilly.”

Sam took hold of Fletcher’s arm. “What are you talking about?”

“Davy was the last one to see her. He went down to the meadow and to Webster’s farm, while Lilly searched the inn for Charlotte. When it started to rain, he headed back, thinking Charlotte would look for shelter. He checked the barn first, but saw some tracks before the rain ruined them, and thought maybe Charlotte had gone up to Penny Top. Now I’m thinking it must have been Lilly.”

“
Christ!
I’m taking your horse, Fletcher!”

Sam tossed the buggy reins to the other man and jumped down into the mud.

“We won’t be far behind!”

Sam barely heard Fletcher’s words as he headed off in the driving rain toward Ravenwell. He understood why Dawson had wanted Lilly.
The man knew.

He’d either seen Lilly in the act, or figured out that she had the ability to make the ghosts appear. And then he’d enlisted his pal, Hamlet, to help him take her.

What did Dawson think he could do with her? With just a mere thought, she could probably turn him into a walnut.

Unless they rendered her unconscious.

He kicked his heels into the gelding’s sides and rode every bit as recklessly as Tom had done. There
were dangerous ledges all the way up to Penny Top. One wrong step in this rain and… He couldn’t think about what might happen.

He finally reached Ravenwell’s yard and went around to the back. He slid off the gelding, taking its reins in hand, then circled the barn looking for some trace of Lilly…or even of Davy.

When he found nothing to follow, he mounted the horse again and headed up the trail in the direction of Penny Top. He didn’t know if that’s where Lilly had been taken, but it seemed a likely destination. There were all sorts of craggy overhangs and Sam remembered seeing a few caves when Lilly had taken him up there.

It seemed so long ago.

But the lovemaking was something he would never forget. Sam didn’t think the rest of the valley would forget, either, since half the cliff had gone crashing down when it was over. He’d bet his last shilling that that had been the unplanned event she’d spoken of.

Bending low, he saw signs that the path had recently been used, but he couldn’t tell how long ago. The rain was quickly washing away what evidence there might have been, although the occasional broken branch at the side of the trail kept him going.

When the path began to climb, Sam dismounted and left the gelding tied to a tree. He scrambled for footholds in the slippery mud, amazed that he and Lilly had managed to climb this trail with such little difficulty when it was dry. He hadn’t noticed how perilously close the path was to the edge until he came upon an area that had washed out. When he looked for a way to get around it, Sam discovered
Davy Becker on a dangerous ledge just below the path. He lay unmoving in the rain, and Sam was afraid the young man might be dead.

Sam maneuvered his way down to Davy and touched his shoulder. The lad stirred. “Davy.”

There was a deep gash on his forehead that Sam was sure would have run red had the rain not continuously washed it clean. Sam ran his hands down Davy’s arms and legs to check for other injuries, and discovered a broken arm at the very least. He didn’t know about other scratches or sprains.

“Davy?”

The young man groaned and blinked his eyes against the rain. Sam shielded him with his body.

“What happened?”

“Davy, you’ve got a broken arm.”

“Hurts,” he said groggily.

“Can you yell?”

“I’ll try,” he croaked.

“Good. Because Tom Fletcher—and maybe a few others—will be coming. Where’s Lilly?”

He swallowed. “I don’t know.”

“Did you see anything?”

He groaned. “One of them hit me with a rock. Then he shoved me off the path.” He looked around. “Guess I was lucky I fell here.”

“Davy.” Sam realized the lad was injured and possibly disoriented. But Sam was quickly losing what patience he had. “Where would they have taken her?”

“I don’t know…maybe to the cave.” Davy swallowed thickly and knitted his brow as if trying to think more clearly. “It’s on the other side of Penny Top. We call it Underwood because you have to
climb through some brush to get down to it. Can’t get to it any other way.”

“I just keep on this path?”

“Aye. There’s a way to go down. Get to the far side and look for a thicket of greens. Slip through near the center and you’ll find a path. It’s tricky, so watch yourself when you go.”

“Are you sure it’s all still there after the avalanche?”

“Aye. I was up here just yesterday. You’d better leave now. I don’t know how long it’s been since they knocked me out here.”

“I’ll help you up,” Sam said. “You’ll be sheltered if you stay under this tree.”

“I’ll be all right,” Davy said. “Go on. Find Miss Lilly.”

Lilly’s head felt as if a very large hammer was pounding it. She was nauseated and afraid to move for fear of retching all over herself. She did not even dare open her eyes.

And then she heard a voice.

“How long’s it going to last? She’s been out for a while.”

Henry Dawson!

Lilly still felt muzzy-headed, but she recognized his voice. He’d tricked her into going with him, then he and someone else had knocked her down and… She didn’t remember what had happened next. But here she was.

Wherever that might be.

It didn’t smell like Ravenwell. It was cool and dry, and the odors were familiar, but she knew she was
not at the inn. And she also knew it behooved her to let them believe she was still unconscious.

“You sure this is going to work?”

“I tell you, I know what I saw. That girl was going to die this morning. From bee stings. But Lilly Tearwater fixed it so that—”

“No, I mean, if she can do all that you say, what’s to keep her from—I don’t know—from striking us with lightning?”

What indeed?
Lilly thought.

“As long as the deaf one is missing, we’re in control.”

“You mean she needs us to tell her where the girl is?”

“Exactly. But we won’t need her for long,” said Dawson. “I only want one thing from Miss Tearwater, and then we can drop her off the cliff. No more worries.”

“Only one thing? But I thought—”

“Money, dear Hamlet,” said Dawson. “Everything else will follow, as long as we have a sufficient amount. In my line of work, I’ve seen all sorts of riffraff treated like kings. And why? Because of the gold that lines their pockets.”

“Right.”

“All we need is some of that gold and we’ll be in good stead. Power, property, women…everything we could ever want.”

“But she’s got to wake up first.”

Lilly didn’t move a muscle. She didn’t know the limits of her power; her first real test had been just hours ago, when Charlotte lay dying beneath the chestnut tree. And Lilly hadn’t given any consider
ation to what she was doing—she’d only known that she couldn’t let Charlotte die.

But what if these men had already killed her friend?

It was all Lilly could do to remain still. But she dared not move until she had a plan. If only her two captors would keep talking, she might learn what they’d done with Charlotte, and how best to handle the situation.

“What are you going to tell her to do when she wakes up?” Hamlet asked.

“I’m just trying to decide how best to fill my coffers. Gold? Or perhaps a large deposit into my account in London.”

“That would be easiest, right?”

Lilly was disgusted by their greed. She would never use her talent to bring riches to these two. They’d be lucky if she didn’t just fling
them
off a cliff.

That’s
what it smelled like—the cliffs. Or rather, the caves in the fells. She and Charlotte and Tom had explored all the caves as children, and still climbed when they had free time. Especially Charlotte and Tom.

Now that she knew where she was, Lilly felt more confident. It didn’t matter how long Mr. Dawson had been a guest at Ravenwell, he couldn’t possibly know the terrain as well as she did. She definitely had the advantage.

Lilly let out a deep breath and moved her legs.

“Look! She’s coming ’round.”

She let her eyes flutter open. “What happened? Where am I?”

Mr. Dawson coughed into his hand. “You, er, had a little mishap and we, uh…”