The Charmer (27 page)

Bessie giggled and bumped
Susanna, probably because Cook had jabbed her with her elbow.

Despite her anxiety, Susanna
smiled. She appreciated their chatter. It took her mind off her other problems,
although nothing could dampen her awareness of Orlando sitting behind her. Even
after all his lies, his presence was still a comfort.

Which made her the biggest fool
in England. First John, then Phillip, and now Orlando. It was time she learned
from the lessons given her, beginning now. Today.

Suddenly Silver balked and veered
sharply to the right. Something whizzed past Susanna's face, inches from her
nose. A small blade.

Bessie and Cook screamed.

Orlando grabbed Susanna's
shoulders. He was shouting.

Hendricks was shouting.

Out of the corner of her eye,
shadows moved amid the trees, but she was too busy trying to control a
terrified Silver to look closer.

"Get down!" Orlando
ordered, taking the reins and pushing her forward onto the footboard at the
same time.

Cook put her hands over her face.
Bessie stopped screaming, but she clutched Cook, her eyes wide as Silver
swerved to miss a tree. The cart, however, didn't. It bashed against the trunk,
throwing everyone about and unnerving Silver more.

Orlando spoke soothing words over
the din of the rattling wheels and his big, capable hands expertly persuaded
the frightened horse to a slower, calmer pace. He handed the reins back to
Susanna and leapt off while the cart still moved.

"Stay down!" He pulled
a long knife from where it had been hidden under his sleeve then ran off into
the trees. He returned a few moments later, his face stony. His gaze skimmed
Susanna from head to toe as she sat on the seat once more.

"Are you...?"

She shook her head. "It
missed."

Naked relief passed over his face
before his eyes shuttered again.

"Wh...what happened?"
Cook asked. She clutched onto Hendricks's hand so hard the poor man's fingers
turned white.

"A knife," Susanna said.
"It came from nowhere."

"It came from someone's
hand," Hendricks growled. "A coward hiding in the trees."

Orlando ran back up the road and
bent to inspect something near the bend. He returned carrying a small, thin
blade. He was still holding his own knife, a rather lethal-looking weapon that
he must have kept strapped to his forearm. Did he always carry it?

"Do you recognize it?"
he asked her.

She shook her head. It was just a
plain, simple knife that anyone would carry. "Did you see anything in the
woods?"

"A horse galloped off
through the trees. The rider wore a long cloak with a hood, but that's all I
could make out." He shook his head and stalked off. He paused a way up the
road, swore vehemently then kicked up a clod of dirt with his boot.

"He and I are finally in
agreement," Hendricks said heavily.

Cook looked at him and, as if she
just realized she'd been holding onto Hendricks, snatched her hand out of his.
"What an ordeal!"

Bessie wrapped her arm around
Susanna's waist. "Are you sure you're all right, my dear?"

Susanna gave them all a reassuring
smile. "Just a little shaken. Nothing that a warm cup of mulled wine won't
cure." It would take much more than that to settle her nerves but it may
help to settle theirs.

Orlando returned and placed his
hand over Susanna's, still clutching the reins. It was only then that she
realized she was shaking. "I'll drive," he said. His turbulent,
unblinking gaze met hers and held it. The world seemed to close around them,
shutting out the others and all ills so that there was only the two of them.
Only this moment. Only the beating of their hearts, Orlando's strength, and the
security of his presence.

"But...why?" Bessie's
plaintive question jolted Susanna into focusing.

She climbed into the back of the
cart with Hendricks's help. Orlando leapt up to the driver's seat and they set
off at a fast clip.

No one answered Bessie. Susanna
didn't have an answer anyway and she doubted Hendicks or Cook did either. Only
Orlando might know why someone had attacked them, but Susanna wouldn't confront
him in front of the others.

***

They arrived back at Stoneleigh
without any more incidents. The three servants went into the kitchen, but
Susanna remained in the stables with Orlando as he organized Silver's feed. She
picked up a brush and set about soothing the last of the mare's nerves which
seemed as jittery as her own. She watched Orlando from the corner of her eye
and, despite the pounding of her heart, said what needed to be said.

"It's time you tell me what
you're doing here at Stoneleigh."

He rubbed Silver's neck as the
horse bent to the trough. "I was passing through and offering my services
as a gardener—"

"Enough, Orlando." Her
voice was low, level, and yet it held all the fury and anguish boiling inside
her. She regarded him, Silver between them, but he was not looking at her.
"I'm tired of your lies. You are not a gardener. You were not simply
passing through. You have a reason for coming here and I want to know what it
is."

His hand stilled on Silver's
neck. The pulse in his throat throbbed. "Susanna. Please. Don't ask
me."

The raw plea in his voice cooled
her anger, but she forced herself to remember his deceit. He was a charmer,
used to lying and getting his way by saying the right things in a way he knew
would work on her. She would not allow them to affect her anymore.

"Tell me," she said.

He walked around Silver and grasped
her shoulders. She shook him off and his hands fell limply to his sides.
"Susanna, I can't tell you. I want to, but I've been forbidden."

"By that man? The gentleman?
Who is he?"

His only answer was a slow shake
of his head as he lowered it.

"I want you to leave."

His head snapped up. "No.
It's too dangerous for you on your own."

"You may be the reason I am
in danger."

"Is that what you think?
That I am the one trying to harm you? I was in the cart with you when the blade
was thrown."

"I don't know what to think.
But the trouble began when you arrived, and I don't believe in
coincidences."

"Nor do I. Usually. But...I
am not trying to hurt you, Susanna. You know that. Your heart is telling you
the truth." He placed his hand beneath her left breast and her traitorous
heartbeat quickened in response. "Listen to it. What does it say?"

She stepped back, out of his
reach.
Be firm. Be strong. Do not fall for his words.
"I have
followed my heart so many times and it has always led me astray. Always."
Her voice cracked. She cleared her throat and forged on. "It's time I
stopped listening and began thinking."

He reached for her but quickly
dropped his hand back to his side again. "Susanna, I am not like your
husbands. I am not..." He trailed off, looked away.

"Not what? Not lying to me?
Not fickle in your affections? Or not going to change so that the man I...cared
about becomes unrecognizable?" A kind of madness gripped her and wouldn't
let go. The words shot from her mouth, intending to wound. If they did, he gave
no sign of it. He stood very still, his eyelids half-closed like shields, his
mouth set firm. "Which lie would you like to tell me now, Orlando?"

He took a long time to answer. "I
want to tell you why I'm here," he eventually said. "But I can't.
You're right and I am not passing through, nor am I a gardener. But I am on
your side. Throw me off your land if you wish, but I
will
find a way to
watch out for you until the danger has passed. I will protect you for as long
as necessary, whether you like it or not. Whatever my previous reason for being
here, guarding you is now my new mission. And that, Susanna, is no lie. Someone
tried to kill you today and—"

"Your foppish friend?"

"Not him."

She believed him. Or perhaps she
wanted
so much to believe him that his tone rang true.

Fie! She couldn't even trust her
own instincts anymore. "Then who? Monk?" She scoffed. "If he
wanted to kill me, he would have done so already. He's had opportunities."

She'd expected him to argue the
point, but he only nodded.

"If it is not Monk and not
your friend..." She swallowed, but the lump in her throat remained.
"Then it must be you."

It was as if he expected it and
had braced himself for it. There was no change in his stance, his face. "And
haven't
I
had many opportunities too? In your bed, for example. Or here,
right now."

His words were like body blows
and she took a step back. Breathed.

Then suddenly it all clicked into
place. "You have been hired by someone, you and your friends—Monk, the gentleman
stranger, and his servant. Not to kill me, but to frighten me. Hired by Walter Cowdrey
perhaps." She nodded quickly. Oh yes, it made a lot of sense. "He
thinks that if I am scared enough, I will agree to marry him." She
snorted. "He doesn't know me at all if he thinks fear will induce me to wed."

The muscles high up in Orlando's
cheeks worked. He stared at her, anger and concern gone, replaced by
thoughtfulness. She crossed her arms and stared back.

"Will you do me one
thing?" he asked. "One last thing before I leave Stoneleigh."

"What?"

"I need the names of the
London shopkeepers you sent your letters to."

It wasn't at all what she'd
expected him to say. "Why?"

"Because..." Without
seeming to move, he was suddenly a little closer. "Because I know some London
merchants and many high-end shopkeepers. I want to see if they are among the ones
you've already contacted." He fidgeted with Silver's mane. "There's
no point writing another letter to them if they've already received one."

He was going to help her? After
what had been said? She couldn't quite believe it.

Or was it just another ruse? Just
another lie to get her to trust him?

"How do you know them?"

"I can't tell you."

She turned and walked off. He
caught up to her and jerked her around to face him, pulling her against him.
His breath came in jagged bursts as if he'd been running. Her blood rushed
through her body, pounded between her ears.

"Susanna, I have lied. I
admit it. And I know you don't believe me when I say I don't want to hurt
you."

"Yet you have," she
whispered. "Just as you hurt me now."

His fingers sprang apart, letting
her go. She didn't tell him she hadn't meant physical pain. "I am going to
make it up to you. I'll find you a shopkeeper to take your marmalades and
succades. I promise you."

She really should have left him
then, walked away. But her heart was cracking and her legs wouldn't work. And
God help her, she believed him. She believed him.

He cupped her cheek and bent his
head. He hesitated, giving her a moment to escape if she wanted to.

She didn't want to. It was just a
kiss. One last kiss for her to remember him by.

His lips were impossibly soft,
yet the kiss held more power than any other. An ache wrapped around her insides
and settled like a shroud over her heart. God it hurt.

When he pulled away, it hurt more.

"I'll get the names of the merchants
for you," she mumbled.

"I'll return for them later.
There's something else I need to do first. Stay in the house while I'm gone.
Don't let anyone in, including people you know."

 They parted outside the stables,
his warning ringing in her ears. She watched him walk off down the drive to the
main road, and let out a long, shuddering breath once he was out of sight. She trudged
back to the house where Bessie waited for her at the front door, a sealed
letter in her hand.

"We found this slipped under
the kitchen door when we arrived home," she said.

Susanna opened it with trembling fingers,
her mind not on the task. But it soon was.

CHAPTER 14

Orlando beckoned Warren the stable
lad with a crook of his finger. The boy came running to where Orlando was
half-hidden by the shadows near the stable wall.

"Mr. Monk's inside the big
house," Warren said, jerking his head at the Hall.

"Thank you," Orlando
said. "But I wanted to ask you something first."

"Me?" The lad squared
his shoulders and cleared his throat. "Ask away, Mr. Holt."

"You worked here when the
previous Lord Lynden was alive, didn't you?"

"Aye. Been 'ere two years
now."

"How was he as a
master?"

"As fair as any other. I
didn't 'ave much to do with 'im. Mostly 'e didn't see me and 'e never spoke to
me direct. Only time I was in 'is presence was at Christmastide when we all
dined together. I think 'e never liked it, but it was custom and the mistress
prob'ly insisted."

"Was he a devout man?"

He shrugged. "Went to church
on Sundays, just like the rest of us."

"What about the current
master?"

"Same thing. Goes to church on
Sundays."

"And Lady Lynden...did
she...was she a good mistress?"

The lad blushed. "Aye. The
best. She always had a kind word. Always said good mornin' to us, no matter how
beneath 'er we was. When me Ma was sick, she gave me the day off and sent me
'ome with a basket. Sent the wise woman round too, she did, and paid 'er."