Nicole Jordan (43 page)

But Diana’s fear over a possible war that she had no power to prevent was less immediate than her dread at the danger Forrester presented.

“So you think Forrester means to kill Sir Gawain if he can?”

“I have little doubt of it now,” Thorne said tersely.

“But will we reach Cyrene before Forrester does?”

“Possibly. My schooner was designed for speed and can make the voyage in two weeks, while his should take three or more. So barring storms, we may very well catch him.”

The thought barely comforted Diana, for Thorne’s grim tone seemed to suggest there was as good a chance they would be too late.

She was glad for the distraction when they arrived at the London docks, which were a scene of bustling activity. John Yates was already onboard the schooner waiting, she saw as they made their way up the gangplank. His expression grave, he supervised the loading of their baggage and her art trunks.

Diana spent the next few minutes settling into her cabin, then returned above deck and found a spot at the railing, out of the way of the scurrying crew as they dealt with sails and lines and cargo while preparing to depart.

After perhaps another quarter hour, they were about to disengage the gangway when Diana saw a heavily laden carriage barrelling along the docks below at an unsafe speed. A familiar blond head hung out the window—a girl obviously searching all the ships at anchor.

It was her cousin Amy, Diana realized with a sense of shock.

Amy let out a shriek when she spied Diana onboard the schooner, and abruptly the carriage came to a rollicking halt. Instantly the girl sprang out, waving the bonnet clutched in her hand.

“Wait! You must wait for me!” she cried, hurrying forward.

She bounded awkwardly onto the gangway, nearly bowling over a seaman in her haste to board, and ran the length of the plank till she could leap down onto the deck.

“I am going with you!” Amy panted, attempting to catch her breath.

Halfway across the ship, John Yates moved toward her, a look of astonishment on his face.

Thorne, too, strode across the deck and reached the girl at the same time Diana did. Yet Amy only had eyes for Yates.

“What are you doing here?” the former cavalry officer demanded, scowling suspiciously now. “We are about to set sail.”

“I know, Diana’s note told me so,” Amy answered. “But I want to accompany you.”

“That is out of the question. We have dangerous business to attend to.”

“John, please…You were right, I was a wretched brat, I know. But I can be better, I promise. If you will only forgive me.”

When he only eyed Amy warily, she turned a pleading gaze to Thorne. “Please, I swear to you, I’ve come to my senses. You see, I’ve realized that I love John. And I can’t bear to live without him.”

Diana’s eyes widened at her cousin’s declaration, while one of Thorne’s eyebrows shot up.

“What about your Season?” Thorne asked skeptically. “What of all the other beaux you’ve kept dancing to your tune?”

“The devil take my Season,” Amy declared emphatically. “I don’t care a fig for London society or any of my other suitors. I care only for John. All I want is to be his wife and live with him on Cyrene—if he can ever forgive me for treating him and everyone else so abominably.”

Thorne suddenly looked amused. “Was that a proposal of marriage you just made him, brat?”

“Yes. If he will have me.”

Amy turned back to Yates, who was staring at her now, dumbfounded. “It doesn’t matter if you don’t love me yet, John. I am willing to wait. I will
make
you love me.” When he didn’t reply, she cast a worried glance up at her guardian. “
Please,
Thorne, may I go with you to Cyrene?”

“If Yates will take full responsibility for you, then yes, I suppose you may come.”

Amy gave a glad little shriek and looked hopefully at her true love.

Diana, despite her surprise, smiled to see John Yates’s expression. The wonder and joy on his face suggested he would ultimately surrender, if he hadn’t already. But it was clear Amy would always lead him on a merry chase.

“Well?” the girl demanded when he still remained mute. “Will you marry me or not?”

John cleared his throat. “Yes,” he said hoarsely. “You know very well that I love you, that I’ve been besotted with you since we first met. And I could ask for nothing more than to have you for my wife.”

“Hurry then,” Thorne ordered Amy, “and see to your baggage. We have to sail with the tide.”

Amy, however, paid him no attention, for she was too occupied with flinging herself into John’s arms and kissing him madly in front of the entire crew and highly diverted audience.

Twenty-one

U
nlike her
first voyage to Cyrene, this one filled Diana with a sense of urgency and danger that left her tense and restless. But her trepidation was briefly tempered two nights later when Amy and John were married by the schooner’s captain.

Helping her cousin dress before the ceremony, Diana experienced a swell of maternal pride when the girl stood garbed in a jonquil crepe gown, her blond curls laced with ribbons and pearls.

“You look beautiful,” Diana pronounced, eyeing Amy’s glowing face and feeling a lump form in her throat at this bittersweet moment. Amy was her only family, but that responsibility was now coming to an end. John Yates would care for her from this point forward.

Even so, Diana felt she had to ask. “You are certain this marriage is what you want, Amy? You will be living on Cyrene and are bound to miss England and home.”

The girl nodded emphatically. “I know I will miss home. And I will miss you more than anything, Diana. But John says we can return to England yearly. And I know with absolute certainty that I would be miserable living without him.” Amy wrinkled her pert nose. “I can’t imagine what I ever saw in Reginald Kneighly. John is ten times the man Reggie is, even if he
is
missing a leg. Thank heavens I finally came to my senses.”

Diana couldn’t help but smile at yet one more indication that Amy was growing up. But still the girl was very young.

“Amy, about the marriage bed…You have no mother to advise you, so if you have questions…I could attempt to answer them.”

Unexpectedly shy, Amy ducked her head, hiding her blushing cheeks. “I am sure John will show me whatever I need to know. I have every faith in him. But I thank you, Diana, for your concern and for everything else you have done for me.” Closing the distance, she took Diana’s hands. “Can you ever forgive me? I was so horrid to you. It was criminal of me, stealing that painting of Thorne.”

“I told you it’s forgiven and forgotten,” Diana replied lightly, accepting Amy’s humble apology for the fourth time since they had set sail. “And I hope you realize now that I had only your best interests at heart. I only want you to be happy, dearest.”

“I will be, I have no doubt. And I hope that when you marry Thorne, you will be as happy with him as I am with John.”

Diana felt her heart twist. Now that her cousin’s future was settled, there was no longer any reason to continue her betrothal to Thorne.

And she would have to tell him so without delay, Diana sternly admonished herself. Perhaps tonight, directly after the wedding. The sooner she set Thorne free, the sooner she could attempt to heal the pain in her aching heart and try to embrace a new future without him.

A future that was looking bleaker by the moment.

The simple marriage ceremony was over quickly, and afterward, the wedding party shared an excellent dinner in the captain’s quarters and drank numerous toasts to the young couple’s future happiness.

The wine helped bolster Diana’s courage, yet by the end of the evening, her nerves had grown taut. Then the captain proposed a final dismaying toast—to Lord Thorne’s happiness in his impending nuptials. When she felt Thorne’s gaze settle on her, she knew she had to act.

As the company dispersed to retire to their respective cabins, Diana waylaid Thorne and asked to speak to him in private. Knowing better than to allow him into her cabin, she chose to go above deck and brave a blustery sea wind in order to deliver her pronouncement. When she moved to stand at the port railing, he joined her.

Diana took a deep breath to steel her emotions and launched into her prepared speech. Although she could see Thorne’s face in the glimmer of moonlight, she couldn’t tell from his impassive expression what he was thinking when she explained that since Amy was now safely wed, there was no longer any reason for their charade and that she considered their betrothal at an end.

Thorne remained silent for a long moment before murmuring his reply. “I agree. With Amy’s future settled, there is no longer any reason for our charade.”

Diana’s fingers clenched involuntarily on the railing. She had expected—even hoped for?—a great deal more resistance from him. “Did you hear me? I am terminating our betrothal.”

“Yes, I heard you. You are jilting me.”

At his congenial tone, a tightness constricted her throat. Absurdly she had wanted Thorne to argue, to refuse to allow her to end their engagement.

Swallowing forcibly, Diana strove to keep her own response light. “I am
not
jilting you. I am simply ending this foolish masquerade. I should think you would be grateful to be let off the hook. You never wanted to wed anyone. And you certainly don’t want to be forced into matrimony simply because you feel you compromised my reputation.”

“Perhaps,” Thorne replied. “Although I was becoming rather accustomed to the notion of having you for my wife.”

“You will quickly become unaccustomed, no doubt,” Diana murmured. “Without me for an encumbrance, you can freely return to your former licentious life. I am absolving you of all responsibility for me, Thorne.”

A muscle flexed in his jaw, but otherwise, he merely caught her hand and raised her fingers to his lips, giving Diana a careless smile. “You are right, there is nothing whatever forcing us to wed.”

His ready capitulation flooded Diana with a feeling of misery, leaving a fierce ache in her chest. “Very well, then…good night,” she managed to say without faltering.

Cursing her foolish heart then, she turned abruptly and made her way to her cabin, aware that Thorne’s gaze was following her all the while.

Although she was confident she had made the wisest choice, the remainder of the voyage proved difficult for Diana. Her proximity to Thorne was a prime reason. Despite the severance of their betrothal, he acted no differently from his usual charming, captivating self, and she found it a continual struggle to resist his tantalizing allure.

She had to keep forcibly reminding herself why she’d been right to end their engagement. Being tied together in a marriage where the attachment was only one-sided would be unbearable for them both. For Thorne, it would likely lead to resentment and perhaps even disdain. For her, it would be a sure path to devastating heartbreak, to be hopelessly in love with her husband when her affections weren’t returned.

Yet even though Diana knew she should feel relief at ending their relationship, she couldn’t prevent a dark melancholy from settling over her during the rest of their two-week journey, a feeling almost of despair. Nor could she forget that this voyage would be her last time with Thorne.

It didn’t help, either, that she was constantly aware of their purpose for being on the ship, and that she felt a constant nagging dread—both at the possibility of failure and at the danger Thorne might face when they arrived.

Her apprehension only grew as they sailed through the Strait of Gibraltar and the choppy gray waters of the Atlantic gave way to the warmer, calmer blue Mediterranean. Even if Thorne’s schooner was much faster than a normal ship, the Forresters had still had nearly a week’s head start. Diana attempted to keep busy with her painting, but her heart had never been less engaged in her work.

And then they sighted their quarry.

They were barely a day out from Cyrene, according to the captain, when a shout from the lookout posted in the rigging spotted a ship ahead. It was another half day before the captain could tell with a spyglass that they were trailing a brigantine.

When she heard the news, Diana felt her stomach lurch. “Is that Forrester’s ship?” she asked Thorne anxiously as they stood watching at the prow railing.

“I’d lay odds it is. At this rate, he should make Cyrene’s harbor tomorrow morning.”

“Will we catch him?”

Thorne’s jaw tightened. “It will be damned close.”

A coldness seized Diana, despite her best efforts to quell it, and filled her with a dark foreboding about what the morrow would bring.

She went to Thorne that night. She couldn’t stay away. Once they reached Cyrene, she knew anything might happen, and the potential peril left her unnerved. She needed Thorne’s magical touch to soothe her dread.

Even more, Diana admitted to herself, she felt an aching need to store up just one more memory of him to last her all the lonely days ahead.