Redeeming Jack (29 page)

Jack winked at Carys, and she blushed. “We’ve come to collect Owen. Is he out helping Geithin?”

Eleri brought her hand to her throat. “It’s kind of you to come all this way, but Geithin took him to Gareth’s this morning. We received your message late last night. Did you fear it might not reach us?”

“I didn’t send you a message,” Carys whispered.

Eleri bent to pat the puppy. “Owen was disappointed that he couldn’t take the dog with him. I promised I would ask you if he could bring the puppy home when she’s a little older.”

Jack slid his arm around Carys’s waist as she swayed against him. “Eleri, I didn’t send you a message.”

Eleri straightened, her expression puzzled. “I don’t understand. I saw the note Martha wrote myself.”

“I haven’t seen Martha for days.” Carys paled, making her freckles stand out in the whiteness.

Jack struggled to gather his thoughts. “Who delivered the note?”

Eleri headed back toward the farmhouse. “I’m not sure. I assumed it was one of Gareth’s servants. He didn’t wait for an answer.” She gestured to the back door. “Come in and see the note for yourself. Carys looks as if she needs a nice cup of tea.”

Jack would’ve preferred a large brandy, but he followed the ladies into the house. While Carys paced, he sat at the large oak table that took up half of the kitchen. Distractedly, Jack found himself wondering if the table had been built in the room. It seemed too vast to fit through the door.

Eleri handed Carys the note.

Carys looked at Jack. “Why would Martha ask for Owen to be brought back without my permission?”

Jack studied the scrap of paper she passed him. “I have no idea. I think we should forget the tea and take ourselves back to the vicarage at Rhossili.”

* * *

Carys picked up her skirts and jumped out of the gig before Jack managed to stop. She ran toward the back door of the vicarage. Despite Jack’s best efforts to calm her fears, she’d barely managed to speak during the short drive across the fields.

He followed her into the house after leaving the gig in the empty stable yard. A clock struck one as Jack passed through the deserted kitchen. Nothing seemed to have changed since his childhood visits. He smelled roast lamb and fresh bread. His stomach growled. Where was everyone? Jack increased his pace.

A flurry of voices speaking a mixture of Welsh and English drifted down from above. He took the stairs two at a time and headed toward the center of the disturbance.

Trust Gareth to be in the thick of things. Gareth sat in his bed, his face still strained from his injury. He was surrounded by Carys, a crying Martha and a blond woman Jack realized must be Gwyneth, Gareth’s wife. Nobody noticed his arrival; they were all too busy speaking at once.

Carys sat down suddenly on the edge of the bed as if she could no longer support her weight.

Jack went straight to her and knelt at her feet. He had to prise one of her hands away from her face before she would pay him any attention. “
Cariad
…”

“Owen’s gone, Jack.”

His heart threatened to beat out of his chest. “Did my father take him?”

Martha replied, her voice hoarse with tears. “I don’t know, sir. Last night, a masked man came into my room and forced me to write a note asking Geithin to bring Owen back here.” She fought off a sob. “The man said he would kill one of the other children if I didn’t do as he asked.”

Carys raised her head, her blue eyes stark in her face. “It’s all right, Martha. You couldn’t have done anything else.”

Jack stood, a cold anger surged through his veins as he imagined his son in peril. “Did Owen ever reach here?”

Martha shook her head. “No, I didn’t see him. The masked man tied me to my bed before he left.”

“Did anyone check for a ransom note?”

Martha shook her head. “When Dilys came in to light the fire in my room at seven this morning, she set me free. I started searching for Owen straight away and then I came to tell Mr. Gareth.” Martha brought her apron to her face and rocked back and forth. “Oh, my lovely boy, I pray God will keep him safe.”

Jack caught Gareth’s eye. “Perhaps your servants could check for a note. I’ll need a fresh horse and a gun if you have one.”

Gareth nodded, color flooding his cheeks. “Where do you intend to start your search?”

“At my father’s house. From what Carys tells me, the duke would seem to have an interest in my son.” He glanced at Carys. “At least we know he’ll come to no harm there.”

Carys grabbed his arm and pulled herself to her feet. “I’m coming with you.”

“Do you think that’s wise, dear?” Gwyneth asked, her kind face creased with worry.

“You don’t have to,” Jack said. “I’m quite capable of dealing with my father by myself. In fact, I’m quite looking forward to it.”

“I’m coming anyway.”

He kissed the stubborn line of her mouth. “Just give me a chance to get in the first blow. Then he’s all yours.”

WHEN CARYS ENTERED the kitchen, she found Jack at the table, cleaning Gareth’s gun. There was no sign of his lazy smile. In its place was the hard expression of a seasoned warrior.

He nodded to her. “I’ll be ready to leave
as soon as I’ve finished this.”

She gestured at the dull metal barrel of the old dueling pistol. “Are you certain you’ll need that? You don’t intend to shoot your own father, do you?”

“My father always employs a few thugs to do his dirty work. I need to be sure our conversation won’t be interrupted.”

Gareth’s eldest son erupted into the kitchen, his face shining with suppressed excitement. “Your horses are ready! Me and Sammy did it together.”

Carys patted her nephew on the head. “Thank you, Tom,
bach
. Now go and tell your mother we are about to leave.”

Tom clattered toward the door then paused. “I’m sorry about Owen. He’s a nuisance sometimes, but he’s still our cousin.”

Carys swallowed an absurd desire to laugh and cry at the same time. Since Martha had told her of Owen’s disappearance, she felt as if she moved through a frozen and distorted world. She kept expecting Owen to pop out from under the table and tell her it was all a joke.

“Carys? Are you all right?”

She forced her attention back to the warm, familiar kitchen. Jack watched her, a frown on his face. She tried to smile. “I’m fine. I’m ready whenever you are.”

Outside, in the patchy sunlight, two fresh horses awaited them. Carys tied her bonnet strings and allowed Jack to throw her up into the saddle. She’d borrowed a pair of Gareth’s breeches to wear under her skirts so she could ride comfortably astride. Jack mounted his horse and they headed out onto the road.

“Auntie Carys, stop!” Tom chased after them, arms waving, his face red with effort. “We found a note!”

In front of her, Jack expertly wheeled his horse and cantered back up the drive.

Martha awaited them at the kitchen door. She held out a piece of paper. “I found this under Owen’s pillow. God knows how it got there.”

After dismounting, Carys grabbed the note and broke the seal. Jack came up behind her and read over her shoulder.

“If you wish to see your son alive, meet me at Worm’s Head before sunset.”

She swayed, and Jack gripped her shoulders. When he relaxed his fingers, she was glad she had his broad chest to lean back on.

“It isn’t my father’s handwriting, but that doesn’t mean this isn’t one of his games.” Jack glanced at the angle of the sun. “As far as I can tell, we have plenty of time to get out to the Worm before the causeway disappears beneath the high tide.”

Carys knew it would take them a while to cross the rocky causeway from the mainland to the head of the Worm. The exposed sea bed was covered in seaweed and rock pools to twist the unwary traveler’s ankle. Visitors to the area regularly died, caught between the promontory and the shore in the vicious cross currents. Some were swept out to sea when the fast tides curved back around the Worm and smashed together, flooding the causeway and cutting off escape.

Carys kicked off her shoes. “I’ll need better boots than these, Martha, and I’ll need to borrow more of Gareth’s clothes. My skirts will be in the way.”

* * *

Jack tied up his horse and studied the deserted coastline. Whoever awaited them on Worm’s Head hadn’t left any evidence of their presence on the mainland. He glanced at the cliff that meandered down to the sea. In the distance, the tip of the promontory, named by the Vikings for its resemblance to the curves of a sea serpent, was shrouded in clouds. Carys stood beside him, her slender form hidden beneath Gareth’s bulky garments.

He checked his pistol was primed and slid a knife down the side of his boot. His spy glass sat in his pocket, but it was too misty to see out to the head of the Worm.

Carys touched his arm. “Are you sure we have time to cross the causeway before the tide comes back in?”

“I should imagine so. It takes about half an hour from here to reach the bottom of Inner Head, the first of the Worm’s three humps. From the look of the sea, we have about three hours before the sun sets to get there and get back. “

Carys gave him a wan smile. “You should know, Jack. I think you spent half your days exploring the beach when you were a boy.”

He grasped her shoulders. “You don’t have to come with me. I can collect Owen and bring him safely back to you.”

Carys covered his hands with hers, her gaze clear and unafraid. “Owen doesn’t know you. He might be too frightened to come.”

Jack suppressed a desire to curse. She was right. Out on the Worm, he didn’t want the boy panicking and hurting himself. There were too many treacherous places for him to fall.

He smiled at her with a confidence he didn’t quite have. “We’d best be off then, if we intend to get back across tonight.”

He took her hand and they negotiated their way down the zigzag path that led to the exposed causeway. By the time they reached the seabed, they were enveloped in a different world. As a boy, Jack had imagined himself Moses parting the Red Sea. The ominous sensation of water on both sides was still threatening yet exciting.

Jack cursed as he stumbled on a rock, and his foot plunged straight into a rock pond. Water seeped into his ruined left boot. A hermit crab skittered over his foot and disappeared into the floating seaweed. Carys picked her way steadily through the rugged terrain, her cheeks flushed with exertion, her breathing as labored as his own.

When they reached the center of the causeway, Jack paused on a narrow strip of shingle and withdrew his spy glass. There was nothing to see. All he could hear was the distant boom of the sea and his own rapid heartbeat. Danger prickled over his skin like a live thing.

He turned to Carys. “If things become complicated, grab the boy and make your way back to the vicarage. I’ll protect you as best I can.”

Carys shielded her eyes and studied the upward slope of the Inner Head. “Why would your father bring Owen out here?”

“I don’t know. I can’t imagine him slogging across the causeway with a struggling little boy, can you?”

Carys shivered while the wind tugged at her coat. “But we have to go on, don’t we? We have no other options.”

Jack kissed her wind-reddened cheek. She smelled crisp and fresh, like a beautiful spring morning. He took her hand and they stumbled on. Mussel shells crunched beneath their feet, Kittiwakes and black-backed gulls dipped and soared in the clouds.

When Jack reached the top of Inner Head, he found a scene of unruffled serenity. Sheep grazed on the lush, wind-rippled grass. Pink thrift flowers and white sea campion formed a colorful carpet. On closer inspection, Jack could just make out the faint path left in the dew someone had trodden before him.

Jack turned to help Carys up the last stretch of the slope. He waited until she caught her breath. “There’s no one here. They must have gone on. Keep behind me.”

A few minutes later he rounded the corner of the Inner Head and had his first proper sight of Low Neck and Outer Head, the two remaining seaward humps of the Worm. A cloaked figure awaited them on the far end of Devil’s Bridge.

Carys stopped suddenly behind him. “I only see one person. Where is Owen?”

Jack half-turned and kept his eye on the still figure on the bridge. “There are plenty of caves and niches to hide in up here. If the man has any sense, he’ll have secreted Owen in one of those. Don’t give up yet.”

He started to walk forward, aware he’d have to slither and scramble across a series of upstanding rock plates to reach Low Neck and Devil’s Bridge. If the mysterious stranger wished to shoot him, there was little Jack could do about it.

By the time he reached Devil’s Bridge, his knuckles were skinned and bleeding. A gust of wind rocked him back in his boots. He studied the narrow arch of rock and the sheer drop below. It wouldn’t take much for an unwary traveler to fall.

He concentrated his attention on the tall figure in front of him. It wasn’t his father. A wave of relief, followed by one of renewed fear, flooded his senses. He felt, rather than saw, Carys appear at his elbow. The man opposite them lowered the hood of his cloak.

“Oliver, what on earth are you doing here?” Carys whispered.

Lord Oliver Rice bowed, his face betraying little emotion. “I had no choice, Carys. Your husband has become too dangerous to me.”

Carys stepped forward, her hands clasped at her breast. “I don’t understand what this has to do with Jack. Just let me have Owen, back. Please.”

Rice shook his head. “If Owen is returned to you, Jack must remain here.”

Carys shuddered and almost tipped forward, caught by another ferocious gust of wind. Jack grabbed her sleeve, but she shook him off. “You are asking me to exchange my son for my husband?”

Rice looked offended. “I thought you were going to marry me. If I make you a widow, it will be so much easier.” He cast Jack a contemptuous glance. “He’s a man without honor and yet as soon as he returned, you let him into your bed like a whore.”

“Carys is my
wife
.” Jack raised his pistol and aimed it at Rice’s head. “Your opinion of our morals is much appreciated, but hardly the point of discussion. Where is Owen?”