Salting the Wound (2 page)

It was the middle of the night. Even if his Aunt Daisy had seen the ship coming into harbour, Nick decided not to rouse her from her bed by going home and letting himself in. Instead, he paid Nancy for the night, for he had a raging need on him.

As it turned out, if he’d gone straight home he might have saved himself from a wasted journey.

The next morning Nick went home in time for breakfast. He kissed his aunt. ‘Uncle’s not home yet, then.’

Aunt Daisy snorted. ‘That’s a damned fool question if ever I heard one. Can you see him? Go and get yourself a bath and shave before you sit down at my table. You smell like a whore’s petticoat.’

He gave a slightly shocked grin. What did his maiden aunt know about whores, let alone what their petticoats smelled like? Then he realized it was one of his uncle’s expressions.

The bath was kept in the back room, where the laundry was done. Aunt Daisy already had water heated for the exercise. Soap and his shaving gear were on the marble washstand and his robe hung over a chair.

He had himself a bath and a shave, then tidied up after his ablutions, because shipboard life had taught him to be tidy. Dressing in his best shore suit he went down to breakfast.

Aunt Daisy looked him over, then smiled. ‘There’s handsome you are. Are you meeting someone?’

He avoided her eyes. ‘Could be,’ and he tucked into his breakfast of bacon, eggs and sausages, and two pieces of toast covered with thick yellow butter.

‘You’d better take her some flowers,’ Daisy said, just as he was about to leave.

‘Take who flowers?’

‘You know who.’

He kissed her cheek. ‘Mind your own business, Aunt Daisy.’

He bought Charlotte a posy anyway, and hiring a black horse from the stables, he set out towards the heathlands that bordered the harbour. There was a faint flush of dawn in the sky that deepened in colour and reached down into the water as he rode.

Red sky in the morning sailor’s warning, he said under his breath as the horse stepped out along a path worn through the undergrowth to the chalky soil beneath.

A man emerged from Harbour House before he reached it and pulled on his jacket. He stood alone as though he was waiting for him. When Nick neared the man he saw that he had a straight, taut bearing while seeming relaxed, grey eyes and light brown hair.

‘I’m Seth Hardy,’ he said. ‘Is there something you want with me?’

Seth Hardy? He’d heard of him. Erasmus had said the man had come into a legacy, and had talked about him as being interested in the clay and gravel pits that had belonged to Charlotte’s father. But he’d wanted the house as well. What was he doing here?

He’d soon find out, Nick thought as he dismounted and held out a hand. ‘I’m Nicholas Thornton.’

Hardy gave his hand a brief shake. ‘I know who you are. State your business.’

There was a feeling of dread growing inside Nick. His uncle must have gone ahead and sold the house from under Charlotte. He wondered where was she?

‘Is Charlotte Honeyman inside?’

‘It’s early. My wife is still in bed.’

‘Wife?’ Nick said harshly, and his heart plummeted into his boots. ‘Charlotte is married to you?’

‘Two months, since I bought the house.’

The man was about thirty, five years older than himself, Nick thought. There was a quiet strength about Hardy when he informed him, ‘Charlotte doesn’t wish to see you, Captain Thornton.’

‘She married you . . . a man who’s a stranger to her. I don’t believe it. I’ll hear it from her own lips.’

A shot kicked up a spurt of dust just in front of him, the report making him jump. Automatically he reached for his own pistol.

‘There’s no need for that, Charlotte, put the gun away,’ Hardy said.

Nick’s hand stilled when he heard Charlotte’s laughter come from the upstairs window. ‘Perhaps that will convince you, Nick.’

She was still in her lacy chemise, and her hair tumbled gloriously around her shoulders. His eyes narrowed. So she was married . . . yet she still had a look of innocence about her. Surely this was a trick to get rid of him.

‘I thought you were going to shoot me dead if I came here again,’ he scoffed.

‘If that’s what you want.’ The gun came up steady in her hand as she lined it up on his head. He remembered that she was an expert shot.

‘Stop this,’ Hardy shouted in alarm, then he shrugged, and relaxed.

Time slowed as Nick watched her finger tighten on the trigger. His mouth dried and he gazed at the man who’d said he was her husband, but mostly with bravado because his heart was thundering in his chest. ‘I see you are a man who hides behind Charlotte’s petticoat.’

He was about to pull his pistol out the rest of the way and give the man a scare for poaching his woman when Seth Hardy chopped his hand across Nick’s wrist, causing a momentary paralysis. The weapon dropped to the ground and Seth gave him a tight sort of smile. ‘Think again, Captain. Her pistol—’

‘Say your prayers, Nick,’ Charlotte threw at him.

The contrary little witch! She meant it, and he still had some living to do. He threw himself to the ground just as the hammer clicked on an empty chamber, crushing the posy of flowers beneath his body. He’d forgotten that her father’s pistol only had one shot, and Hardy reminded him as he finished, ‘– only has one shot, which has already been discharged.’

Hardy offered Charlotte a grin that locked him out. She held the man’s gaze for a moment, fluttered her eyelashes and blushed. Nick was well aware of the signs. Charlotte’s blush and enticing little smirk said it all. Her new husband was giving her her head before he closed in for the kill. Jealousy tore him to shreds, until he thought, Charlotte was doing it to make him jealous.

Nick scrambled to his feet, his face flushed with anger . . . and dare he admit it, feeling humiliated beyond measure. Charlotte had always known where to stick her pitchfork so it hurt him the most. And this time it was straight into his heart.

Seth said quietly. ‘You’ve scared him enough I think, Charlotte. I think Captain Thornton got the message.’

‘Did you, Nick?’ Charlotte said.

‘For God’s sake, Charlotte, have a heart,’ Nick pleaded. ‘We practically grew up together.’

‘No we didn’t. I was forced to play with you when you visited with Erasmus Thornton. You were always an arrogant bully who wanted your own way and wouldn’t take no for an answer. You broke my toys, scribbled over my books and frightened my sister and made her cry. And our father always took your part.’

Nick wasn’t responsible for the way her father had acted, or his uncle come to that. But had he done all those things? He couldn’t remember her sister. He searched his memory and recalled her as being a pair of years younger than Charlotte. She’d clung to her sister’s skirt like a whimpering grey mouse. He couldn’t remember frightening her. Not on purpose, anyway. ‘I’m sorry for everything.’

‘It’s too late, you worm. I don’t want your apology, and neither does Marianne.’

Ah yes, that was the sister’s name, though he’d always called her by another name . . . one he’d given her himself, since she’d liked to sing, and it was short for Marianne. He remembered turning her round and round, then when he’d let her go she’d staggered around on her plump little legs and crashed into the furniture while he laughed and teased her. Aria is in a dizzy tizzy, he thought, and tried not to grin.

Behind Charlotte in the shadows, the form of another girl appeared, a shawl covering her shoulders. The girl’s hand lay against her throat in fright, her eyes were wide and her mouth an astonished oval in a heart-shaped face. Dark hair was pulled back into a braid that hung like a rope over her shoulder. She reminded Nick of a startled rabbit before she quickly shrank back. He grinned. That must be Aria, and he hadn’t even said boo to her yet. She didn’t possess the spirit or looks that her sister had.

He recalled the window as being the bedroom the sisters had always shared. It looked as though they still shared it. Seth Hardy hadn’t had his length of Charlotte yet.

Nick’s gaze shortened back to his adversary and his grin became a frown. He’d known Charlotte would have put up some resistance to his proposal, but found it hard to believe that she’d have thrown him over in such a callous manner. Their eyes locked, but the expression of disdain in hers defeated him.

She belonged to another man. He could have no claim to her now. It crossed his mind that he could always challenge Seth Hardy to a duel, then throw Charlotte over his shoulder, take her aboard the
Samarand
and sail off with her into the sunrise.

But then what? He’d be forced to settle abroad, and so far he hadn’t seen anywhere he liked better than the land of his birth.

His thoughts were interrupted when a child came running from the house.

Charlotte called out with unnecessary anxiety, ‘Come away from him . . . come back inside, at once.’

The boy stopped, then gazed from Seth to him, then back to Seth again, for all the world as though he was a rabbit caught in a trap. Uncertainty danced in his mossy green eyes. ‘Pa?’

Seth stepped between them, creating a barrier. He didn’t look at the boy but said quietly, ‘John, there’s no need to be alarmed. Do what your stepmother says.’

‘Yes, Pa.’ The boy returned to the house with some alacrity.

So, Charlotte had saddled herself with a stepson. Did Seth Hardy imagine he’d harm the brat? Did Charlotte? The fact that she thought so little of him was wounding in itself. It also angered him. But there was no point in making a fuss now. Seth Hardy could have the shrew. There were other women, just as beautiful, much softer and more willing to please him than Charlotte had ever been.

He’d always loved her, he admitted to himself.

Bah to such tomfoolery! There were other women in the world, and he’d learn not to love Charlotte. It would serve her right. She’d miss him when he was gone. Under the watchful eyes of Seth Hardy he retrieved his gun and, checking the safety catch, shoved it back into his belt. He had no intention of blowing his own balls off.

‘Put the pistol away, Charlotte. Captain Thornton is leaving.’ Hard grey eyes came up to his. ‘Isn’t that right, Captain?’

For the first time in his life Nick had been denied his own way. He didn’t like it much, but he didn’t blame Seth Hardy for taking advantage of what was on offer. He ignored the man, turning instead to the woman who’d betrayed him. ‘You’ve had your fun, Charlotte, but you should know me well enough to realize that you might live to regret this.’

It was a face-saving remark. Nick wouldn’t damage a precious hair on her head, no matter what she’d done to him.

He left the sailcloth satchel in the low gorse where it had fallen, then mounted the black. He rode away without a backward glance, his self-esteem in tatters and feeling like a dog slinking off with its tail tucked firmly between its hindquarters.

Charlotte and Marianne stood at the window on the landing and watched Nick Thornton’s retreat, a lonely, dejected figure in black.

Marianne had tears in her eyes. ‘Stop snivelling, he deserved it,’ Charlotte said.

But her final triumph over Nick hadn’t given her the pleasure she’d expected, and had left her feeling strangely diminished in her own eyes. Nick had always loved her, and Charlotte had held a sneaking regard for him until the death of her father had revealed the extent of the debt owed to Erasmus Thornton, and his involvement with her mother. It had offended her, and she’d simply refused to be the payment to settle the debt. Once she’d refused, her pride had not allowed her to go back on her word.

‘You shouldn’t have humiliated him so,’ Marianne said.

Charlotte shrugged. ‘It was no more than he deserved. You’re never to speak to him again, do you hear? If it wasn’t for his uncle—’

‘I’m old enough to make up my own mind to whom I speak, and I refuse to blame Nick Thornton for something that’s not of his doing.’

Charlotte abruptly changed the subject, as she often did when the conversation was not going her way. ‘You’re not wearing that awful brown gown and shawl are you?’

‘It merges with the colours of the heath, so if you keep still the animals mistake you for a plant and don’t take fright so easily.’ Marianne pulled on her scuffed boots. ‘I promised John I’d take him up to the copse, and I’m going to teach him about the heath birds today. We’ll probably be out all morning.’

‘Seth was brave standing up to Nick,’ Charlotte said softly. ‘Do you think he’s handsome?’

‘Nick has never been fearsome, he only pretended to be. So no, Seth wasn’t that brave, since he’s been trained to fight and Nick hasn’t. And Nick has always been handsome, in a dark, tough sort of way. He has a nice smile and I love it when he laughs, it’s usually a soft sort of chuckle.’

Charlotte glowered at her in the mirror. ‘I meant Seth, you idiot. Besides, what do you know about Nick Thornton? He was my friend, not yours.’

‘Oh Seth . . . yes, I suppose he is handsome, I haven’t really noticed. I must go, I’m starving and I want to get some breakfast.’

Her sister dashed off, calling down the stairs, ‘Good morning, Seth. Have you seen John anywhere? I’m taking him out on the heath today and want to make sure he eats a good breakfast first.’

Charlotte laughed before she whispered, Aria is always in a dizzy tizzy. Then she remembered that was what Nick used to tease her sister with. Spots of colour flared in her cheeks and she had a moment of regret about the way she’d treated him. She picked up the brush and began to furiously attack her hair.

‘You’ll pull it out by the roots. Give me the brush, I’ll untangle it.’

‘Seth!’ She automatically reached out for her robe, which was on a nearby chair.

He stilled her hand. ‘Leave your robe where it is, Charlotte. I’ve seen a woman in her chemise before.’

She retorted, ‘You may have, but a man hasn’t seen me in one before.’

‘No? It didn’t seem to bother you when you were at the window.’

She had no answer for that. He began to pull the brush through her hair, stopping to gently tease out the knots. It was relaxing and she forgot she was so lightly clad and closed her eyes.