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Authors: Carol Caldwell

Tags: #Historical Romance

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BOOK: Sea of Fire
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Elizabeth wasn’t thrilled by the compliment and needed this conversation to end. “If there is nothing else—leave.”

“All right.” He stood and replaced his hat on his fair-haired head. “Perhaps, you’ll be in a better mood tomorrow eve. He waved his silly wave, left the parlor, and exited outside.

She started for the stairs up to her bedchamber. “Hannah,” she called and waited at the foot of the steps. She rested one hand on the rail. “Hannah?”

“Coming, Bethy,” Hannah answered. She entered from the doorway that led to the kitchen.

“Mr. Godfrey is gone. I’m going to continue with my invitations. If anyone else calls, please send them away.”

* * * *

An entire day and a half had passed. Christian, from his carriage parked a short distance down on Henrietta Street, had watched Roderick Godfrey leave Elizabeth’s town house. Once again, he wondered what the two had planned. The eve before, he had followed Elizabeth’s every move from the time she left her town house until her carriage dropped her off in front of Roderick Godfrey’s silversmith shop. What surprised him was that she hadn’t gone inside but had traveled a short distance away to White’s Inn. Mysterious, to say the least. It was only sheer luck that he discovered her dressed as a friar. He had been seated in a position where Elizabeth could not see him, yet when she passed, he’d see her. When the friar passed, the smell of lavender assailed him. It was then it occurred to him the man was Elizabeth—either that or one odd fellow.

Fortunately, he managed to hail a noddy as quickly as she had and trailed her to the harbor where she boarded a ship and disappeared below deck. These were strange activities for a young lady. All the more, he believed her involved in some illegal affair that centered around Adam. He truly wanted to confront her, but decided to wait until after her next escapade where he hoped to obtain more concrete information.

He shifted uncomfortably in the carriage before he glanced at his pocket watch. It was half past eight. Still, no Elizabeth appeared on her doorstep. Neither had her governess, Hannah, in the entire day and a half he watched their home. This was too bloody long. He was tired from lack of sleep and annoyed at the cramped quarters of the carriage. Despite a lap rug, it was too damn cold. At least one matter was in his favor. Thus far, no one had asked why he had been parked so long. Elizabeth as well as her neighbors apparently were too involved in other matters.

He sighed. The only time he had left the carriage was to relieve himself. His driver brought him food and drink on command. Damn, he thought. Elizabeth couldn’t stay holed up in her town house forever—especially after Roderick’s visit. Surely, she’d be on the move again, and soon.

His eyelids were heavy and wanted to close so badly, but if he allowed it, he knew he’d sleep through the night right there in the carriage parked in the street, and Elizabeth would slip by him. He could have asked his driver to wake him, but nay, this was too important. Somehow he knew when she ventured outdoors again, it would be another even bigger clue into the mystery behind his brother’s disappearance. He had to stay awake for his brother’s sake.

He opened the carriage door and stepped out into the mist and cold night air. Perhaps, the effect would wake him. He thought of his mother. She had asked him to send word that all was well with Adam when he arrived in Dublin. He had yet to find a way to tell her Adam was indeed in trouble, but she shouldn’t worry. Right. Just the encouragement a mother wanted to hear. Instead, he opted to say naught, and hoped he’d find Adam soon, so he could write to relieve his mother’s fears. She’d forgive him for the delay in sending the message and all would be right with the world. If only it were so simple.

He glanced at Elizabeth’s door for the hundredth time and as if by merely doing so by itself, it opened. He scrambled back inside the carriage.

Elizabeth appeared, and this time, instead of taking a carriage with her own personal driver, she started to walk down the street.

Christian stuck his head out the window of his carriage. “Follow the lady, but a safe distance behind,” he ordered his driver. At times like this he was thankful to have such loyal servants. Not only would they not question his activities, but they would know he had good reason for his unusual behavior.

He was not surprised when Elizabeth led them to White’s Inn once more. As before, she had changed into her friar garb and proceeded in the direction of the harbor. This time she stopped at Essex Quay not far from Dublin Castle and entered a structure with a sign posted out front which read, Liffey Supply.

Once she entered the structure, he exited the carriage and ordered his driver to be prepared to leave at a moment’s notice.

Gingerly, he opened the door to the building. It creaked, and he held his breath. Unnoticed, he continued until he slipped completely inside. The passageway before him was dimly lit, with several doors lined up on either side ahead of him. In the distance, he saw stairs that led to offices or perhaps a workshop on the floor above.

He listened for a moment. When he heard nothing, he advanced up the stairs to the second level. Cautiously, he poked his head around the landing into the passageway. It was too quiet. Still, he tiptoed to the first door and the next along the way. His heartbeat quickened. He froze in place. He must go carefully and quietly seek the evidence needed against this woman.

He envisioned Elizabeth’s pretty face, sparkling blue eyes and auburn hair. He recalled the taste of her mouth. Damnation! She had mesmerized Adam, but she would not enchant him. Beauty or nay, he’d not let it happen. She had gotten Adam involved in something illicit. He felt it in his gut. By God, she’d pay.

“Must you stand over me so closely?”

Christian’s senses were on the alert. That was Elizabeth’s voice. He put his ear to the door nearest to him.

“Forgive me. I’m just so excited. You’re doing wonderfully. This will be the best pattern for a shilling we’ve ever had. You’ve such a talent,” the voice stated and giggled as if he’d told a funny joke.

That was Roderick’s voice. Christian had heard enough to know that Elizabeth was drawing the pattern to counterfeit a shilling.

“Tell me, Elizabeth. Why did you wear the silly friar garb to come here?” Roderick asked, “ ‘Tis only you and I.”

‘Tis late, Roderick, and a woman is not safe un-chaperoned on the streets, but naturally, it’s not a concern of yours.”

“Aye, you’re right there, but after seeing the beautiful work you do, I’d hate for anything to happen to my sweet forger.”

Christian silently backed away from the door. He had heard all he wanted to for now. Where Adam fit into this, he still was unsure. Elizabeth Corry, however, would have a surprise when she arrived at White’s Inn.

* * * *

The old wooden staircase of White’s Inn creaked with every step Elizabeth took. A few more steps, another few feet, and she’d be at the door to her room. God in heaven, she was exhausted.

Roderick had watched over her the entire time she had drawn the pattern for his latest counterfeit coin. To her relief, he was thrilled by the exactness of her drawing. Consequently, her father would not suffer.

She reached into her robe for the key to her room.

“Friar, please, I need to talk,” came a voice from the shadows.

God in heaven. Not again. Not this time. She was too tired. She rested her forehead against the door. “I’m sorry,” she spoke into the door but addressed the voice. “Please. Can we speak in the morn. I’m too sleepy. In this condition, I would be of no help to you.”

“Afraid not, Sister Friar.”

She spun around towards the recognizable voice. “You. What are you doing here? Why are you following me?” she angrily said to Christian.

“It’s you who have the answering to do.” His gaze wandered from her face to where her bosom and hips would be beneath the friar’s robe.

“I think not,” she proceeded to unlock her door when he grabbed the key from her.

“You’re coming with me.”

“I’ll scream.”

“Go ahead. What do you think the innkeeper or anyone else would do when they saw a woman dressed as a friar? Not a damn thing. Especially if I were to tell them you escaped from the asylum, and I have orders to bring you back.”

She considered his words and knew she’d have no friend in the innkeeper or anyone else. If she hoped to return to this inn with her activities unknown, she’d have to go with no fuss or attention drawn to her.

“Can I at least retrieve my portmanteau?”

Christian nodded. Together they entered her room. She gathered the item, and they left the inn.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked once they were seated opposite each other in Christian’s carriage.

“To my town house.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s where I want you. You’re going to tell me the truth and give me some answers. That’s where you’ll stay until you do.”

When the sun never sets, she thought and glanced at the man, ready to tell him so, until she saw the glare in his amber-colored eyes. God in heaven, one need only view the man’s eyes to gauge the depth of his emotions. He relaxed against the carriage back with his legs widely spread. The gesture made her uncomfortable. She folded her arms across her chest, swallowed and stared out the window.

She needed time to think of yet another reason for what truly had to appear odd to him—a woman in friar’s garb.

“Please. I’m so tired. Can it not wait until morn? I beg you, please.” She gave him what she hoped was her most pathetic face.

He let out a heavy breath. “It can wait. I warn you, though. You’ll be my prisoner until you tell me everything—until you are totally honest with me.”

“Aye, Mr. Traynor,” she amicably answered, “And I will be.” But not just yet. She closed her eyes and rested her head against the side panel of the carriage, confident that by morn his prisoner would be gone.

A short while later, the carriage stopped. She opened her eyes, and Christian motioned for her to exit the carriage before him.

It was deadly quiet outdoors. The earlier mist had turned to a soft rain. She hurriedly followed Christian up the stairs and almost bumped into him when he abruptly halted, once they were inside.

“I’ve given my housekeeper and manservant some time off. We’ll be alone. Follow me. You can stay in my room.”

She hesitated.

He apparently understood her concern for he said, “Your virtue is safe with me, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

It wasn’t exactly what she was concerned about. Yet, he need not know that his mere presence set her nerves on edge. The idea of being in a man’s room was another notion. Certainly, he had to know it wasn’t proper. Was dressing as a friar who gallivanted around the city at all ungodly hours proper? Nay. She deserved his improper suggestion. She sighed and followed him to his bedchamber.

“Wait,” he ordered and left the room.

Seconds later he returned with nightwear for her.

“Here. In case there’s nothing in your trunk, you’ll be more comfortable in this.”

She stared at the lacy nightgown, suddenly embarrassed. “Thank you, I do have something, but I’m too tired to change. What I have on will do me. Good night,” she said and plopped onto his bed.

He stared at her a moment. “Good night,” he said and closed the door.

Christian was too handsome for his own good. Though she was certain his intentions were strictly platonic. The idea of being in nightwear with him nearby was much too uncomfortable a situation for her. Besides, if she were to leave in a hurry, she couldn’t stop to change clothes.

She snuggled into the pillows and breathed in deeply. Instantly, she regretted the action, for they smelled the same manly scent of Christian—a pleasant scent that somehow made her feel euphoric. She remembered his kiss and how she wanted him to kiss her again. She was so tired. She was not thinking wisely.

When she was certain Christian was asleep, she would flee. She rolled to her side and studied his bedchamber. It was a richly decorated, masculine room with ash paneling and draperies in forest green and gold. The bed linens and coverings she rested upon, though trimmed in a wide eyelet lace in the same forest green, exuded manliness no less than the wood-handled hairbrush and brass razor she spotted on a corner washstand. There were paintings of the sea and tropical places in various sizes on every wall. A marble statue of an unusual bird balanced on one foot occupied an obvious place of honor on a small side table near the bed. Another large, green glass creature, that resembled a small whale, sparkled in the semi-dark room from atop his wardrobe closet. She guessed he must have been a traveler, for the items reminded her of nothing she had seen in Ireland.

She yawned and struggled to keep her eyes open. The second she decided to rest them for a mere moment, she was sound asleep.

 

Chapter Six

 

Christian paced the floor in the passageway outside his bedchamber. An hour had passed. Should he go inside, or not? He didn’t trust Sister Friar. First chance she got, she’d try to escape him. Surely, she was asleep by now. Hell. He swung around and quietly opened the door. He listened a moment. When no form of protest greeted him—it would, too, from the feisty lady—he closed the door behind him and took up a morocco leather armchair that faced the bed. He’d stay where he was until she woke in the morn.

Having decided this, he made himself comfortable and untucked his shirt from his breeches. Next he undid the cravat, opened his shirt, and tugged off his boots. Christ! He was damned tired himself, he thought and sat back in the chair.

Elizabeth slept so soundly, her breathing could barely be heard as she lay face down on the bed. His gaze wandered over her slim shape and stopped at her posterior. One of her knees was brought up close to her chest which caused the wooly friar’s robe to stretch across the fullness of her well-defined bottom.

He recalled the time he’d kissed her and held her close to him. There wasn’t much to the lady, but she definitely had appeal.

Christ! He stood and tugged his breeches away from his sudden arousal. Had he lost his mind? The wench was here because he didn’t trust her. She had lied to him and the sooner he found out why, and where Adam was, the better.

BOOK: Sea of Fire
13.63Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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