To Tame a Rogue (22 page)

“What?"

"Caindale always knew that Nicholas wasn't his son, apparently. It's a shock to the rest of us. Including Nick. Caindale's wife
, my mother,
had an affair and Nicholas was the result. Why he raised him is a mystery to us all, but I think it's because he always knew deep down that his own son Philip would disappoint him greatly. And because he truly loved his wife despite her indiscretion and would do anything for her.

"Nicholas has had so much heartache and deception in his life," Camille said quietly.

"There’s something else I have to tell you. When Philip disappeared, Marlena resurfaced.”

Camille stopped and turned toward Genny. “His first wife? So the rumors are true. She’s alive. She never drowned and yet made Nicholas feel guilty all this time for her death ….”

“Yes. It's been determined that she ran off with Philip long ago and they lived on an island for a while. When they came across a newspaper article about Nick's engagement, well, they made plans. She’d made some appearances around town. Word on the street was that she wanted to stir up trouble for Nicholas. She tried to tell everybody that the annulment of Nick’s marriage to her was illegal. He made it years after she disappeared.”

Camille bit her lower lip. “How do you know all this?"

Genny smiled wickedly. "I simply asked her. And told her what I would do to her if she ever set foot on our property again."

"She’s not right, about the annulment
being illegal
, is she?”

“Bloody hell no,” Genny said. “Nick’s a smart one. Don’t worry. She has no claim to anything. Ironically, faking her own death assured that.”

“My God, the girls. They must be so confused, they must be hurting. Has she been to see them yet? And where has she been all this time?”

“No, thank God. I think the girls don’t know yet. And I don’t know where she’s been. Nick’s got someone on it, if I know Nick.”

“Well, that’s a small miracle.”

“Yes it is, as Marlena cares only for herself. I never liked her. She’s a gold digger. She always wanted to be wealthier than she was before she married Nick, and she wasn’t faithful to him. I found out after she disappeared. Of course, the newspapers made Nick out be some sort of ogre, even insinuated that he’d murdered her.”

“How awful for him,” Camille said. “Genny, has any woman ever broken her heart trying to influence this man, beating against that rock-like determination of his? Can any flesh and blood woman break him down? Would he ever give up anything of his to bring happiness to another?”

“Some women have tried. Lavinia, God, she’s a piece of trash. I hate to sound so crass, but all she wants is attention, money, flattery.”

They started walking again, ignoring the cat calls from sailors. “I think you could be that woman,” Genevieve said. “I think you
are
that woman.”

“I don’t know. I love him, and I hate him too. I feel so confused. For what he’s done to me. How can that be?”

“That’s love I guess. Listen Camille, once Marlena finds out she has no claim to Nick’s riches, she’ll be gone. I'm sure of it. She'll be on to her next challenge, finding some other man to dupe with her wiles. In the meantime, detectives will dodge her and Philip's every move until they are where they belong—in jail.

"I’m not asking you to make a decision now, but please, think about your feelings. Don’t give up on Nick yet. I think he’s planning a long sea voyage, and I hate to see him go. I can see him hardening himself to his feelings again. But the right woman could make him stick around.”

51

It’s not fair
, Camille thought.
I can’t stop loving him any more than I can stop the motion of the sea.

But I can do something about it.
It had been two weeks since she’d talked with Genny. She’d also heard that when Marlena made a spectacle of herself at the mansion, and when she couldn’t legally do anything about her annulled marriage to Nick, that she’d left town, just as Genny had predicted. Hadn’t even bothered to inquire about her
own
children. Camille’s heart ached for them. That was something else that had made up her mind. The girls needed her, and she needed them.

She didn’t bother to change out of her riding habit. There was no time to lose.

52

Camille ran to the stables first, but Nicholas was nowhere to be found. From there she raced up the front steps of the porch to the great hall and finally to the great room, where couples swirled dizzily and laughed enticingly beneath the warm, enchanting glow of candles or sat close together as they sampled gourmet foods on crested English silver. The whole time she heard a voice in her head,
you shouldn’t have come back. You don’t belong here; you don’t belong to him
. But she had to come, she had to find him. She had to tell him what was in her heart, no matter the risk, no matter the cost.

Genny was right. At last she glimpsed him briefly in the velvety throng of dancers.

“Nicholas!”

The crowd gasped and parted for her, a blonde-haired waif in mud-spattered riding breeches and a white shirt, a spot of raucous dirt amidst sparkling young jewels shining in their taffeta, satins, and silks.

“Nicholas!” she called again, for he apparently hadn’t heard her. Voices began to whisper as heads turned in her direction. In fact, it seemed everyone had heard her cry, everyone except Nicholas.

He was waltzing with a woman…his head bent low over her ear. Camille felt the breath leave her body in a sickening rush. Lavinia smiled up at him as his finger lazily traced her bare shoulder then tangled in her glossy black hair.

The silence was absolute now, and terrifying. Everyone had drawn back and Camille stood alone, Nic
holas only a few feet from her. If she reached out, she could touch him….

He was still unaware of her. Lavinia turned her moon-like eyes on Camille and smiled―a lush, insolate smile.

“Nicholas, please,” Camille beseeched. Her voice was the merest of whispe
rs, and very close to begging.

“Why Nicholas, it’s your wife. Don’t be rude. Talk to her, darling. We’ll have time tonight for serious indulgences.”

He turned his dark head, his hand still resting much too intimately on Lavinia’s creamy shoulder. His chin hardened, like the rest of him, Camille thought.

She spoke fast, the words tumbling out of her. “There’s something I have to tell you…something important….”

“My lady, if you’ll excuse me, I’m busy at the moment.” His tawny eyes burned with anger, perhaps even impatience? Camille wasn’t sure. He turned his back to her and Camille felt the world tilt dangerously as he leaned lower and placed a kiss on Lavinia’s bare skin.

Camille’s voice was a bare canvas in the colorful air between them. “It’s not important after all.”

She wasn’t sure Nicholas heard her now, and she no longer cared. The sadness, the shock and humiliation she felt, was an overpowering ache in her chest. Why was Nicholas treating her this way? She had told him she’d hated him. Perhaps he’d had enough. Perhaps, as Genevieve had said, he’d started returning to the hard man he’d been before she’d met him.

Everyone watched with amusement, pity, and some with glee as she quickly fled the great room.

She’d been the veriest fool. She shouldn’t have come. Nicholas was through with her. And he would never know the truth. He would never know what was in her heart.

Tears streamed wildly down her cheeks as she ran from the house, ran blindly into the night, the thought of his hands and his lips on that woman burning in her mind, killing every dream she had ever had.
This is what it feels like to love
, she thought.
Never again.

Camille didn’t see the hand raised in the shadows, didn’t have much time to feel the swift, sharp blow that rendered her unconscious as she ran by the ancient boxwood hedges enclosing the lawn.

53

 
Something unfamiliar touched Camille’s eyelids, her nose, her cheeks.
Warm daylight
. She opened her eyes and immediately shut them. Her head throbbed painfully. What happened? Where was she?

Her mouth was dry, her mind sluggish. She
tried
to sit up, but the movement was too much and she sank back down in a bed. Her head ached and throbbed terribly.

“’Bout time ye woke up,” a gruff voice said from the shadows of the room.

Camille opened her eyes despite the pain. She was in a tiny, seemingly airless room with a single window. She heard the sounds of water nearby, of horses and carts in the broken streets below. She could not see who had spoken. The ragged shutters on the window were nearly falling off; she lay on a makeshift bed with a tattered woolen blanket. It was the only piece of furniture in the room. She realized with a start that her hands were tied to the bed posts. She wore only a nightdress.

“Who are you? Where am I and what do you want with me?”

A deep, dark laugh unfurled from the beefy chest of a man who had stepped a little further into the light.
My God, Meletios
.

He stepped fully into the light and grinned mercilessly. “I never did get to beat ye, but at least I had the joy of knocking ye cold.”

Camille trembled. She couldn’t speak.

“Perhaps I’ll beat ye now.” He cracked his knuckles, a sound like bone splintering, and took a step toward her.

“Not just yet, Meletios.” Camille’s “uncle” stepped from the shadows.

“Untie me!”

“My dear, sweet niece. You aren’t in a position to make demands. Haven’t you figured it out yet? I thought perhaps you had, as you went running back to Nicholas. You must have told him the truth about me.”

Camille pulled on the ropes binding her, struggling to no avail as it all came back to her. “You’re not my uncle. Everybody knows how you lied to me all those years. I….”

Her uncle looked surprised. “This is even better than I thought.” His eyes, like puddles of chimney soot, narrowed as he sat on the edge of the bed, much too close for comfort. He raised a gnarled finger to her cheek.

"I might as well tell you all of it. I really enjoyed living off your inheritance. It was all so easy. No one ever questioned me about the family, about whether I was truly your uncle. It was so easy to take you from the orphanage, once I read the article about your parents’ deaths. No one had put two and two together. I checked the orphanages and sure enough, found you. Unclaimed. All that wealth just sitting there. I couldn’t let that happen, my dear.”

“You’re disgusting! You lied to me, you made me work in a tavern, you tried to make me think I was crazy for remembering my parents, my home!”

“Of no account now, my dear. Of no account now.”

He stood and walked to the window. “Not only are you my prisoner, but no one knows where you are. And more importantly, no one cares! Apparently not even your dear Nicholas. Disposing of you shall be too easy.”

“Dis…disposing of me?”

“Yes, my dear. You don’t think I can allow you to live, knowing what you know, do you? I don’t fare well in prisons and have no desire to return to one.”

“But….”

“Do you think your precious Nicholas will come for you? I doubt it. The rumor is, shortly after you left Legacy Oaks he was seen sauntering about town with his lovely black-haired mistress clinging to his arm, you know, the one who willing spreads her legs for him whenever he asks?”

“You won’t get away with this.”

“Oh? And who’s to stop me?” He frowned. “I’ve wasted enough time on you, my dear.” He turned his small, round form toward Meletios. “Go ahead, give her the beating; I know you want to.” He looked at Camille. “Goodbye, my dear.”

As he opened the door he called back to her. “By the way, screaming won’t do you any good. We’re in a part of town where screams are commonplace. No one bats an eyelash my dear.” Then he was gone and Camille was left staring wide-eyed at Meletios. She screamed anyway.

She pushed herself as far back into the bed as she could without cutting off the circulation in her wrists. Her last conscious thought was of Nicholas. Despite all, she loved him. Her lips tried to form his name but they were too swollen and bloodied by the time Meletios was through to speak it.

54

Nicholas felt something was wrong, terribly, horribly wrong. He gave orders to have his ship turned about and as he sat at night looking over his log he found himself listening, tensely, for any change in the force or direction of the wind, waiting, feeling with every nerve any new motion or sound of the ship.