Moonspun Magic (5 page)

“Eh, a good haul, Toby.”

Brandy, no doubt, Rafael thought, peering through the thick bushes toward the beach. Excellent, very expensive French brandy. He wasn't stupid; he made himself as invisible as he could and made not a single sound. Smugglers were a funny lot. If threatened, they were violent. He had no intention of announcing his presence.

“My Gawd, Bobby, did ye hear that?”

Rafael blinked. He'd made no noise.

“By all that's holy, 'tis a female. Up there, Bobby. Hey, wait, ye!”

A female? What female would be out here?

He heard a scream, then sounds of a scuffle. He sighed deeply.

“Hold still, missy. Gawd, she's a beauty, Toby. Just look at that pretty face.”

“Aye, she is. Guess we'll have to take her to the Bishop. He'll want her, that's for sure.”

“But—”

“Shut yer trap, Bobby. She ain't for the likes of ye. A proper little lady, she be. Why be ye here, missy?”

“Please, let me go. Who are you?”

“Now, that be right funny, missy. Just who do ye believe us to be? Frogs mybe?”

“We hopped right over the Channel, that's what ye believe?”

“I saw the lights and thought perhaps I was near Axmouth. I didn't know . . . are you smugglers?”

“The missy's got a rare wit, Toby. Aye, rare. It's a pity.”

Rafael gently pulled his pistol from his belt. He walked quietly toward the furiously struggling female and the two smugglers. He'd heard of the Bishop. The man was a mystery, for no one knew his identity, and he'd been in charge for so many years now that Rafael had assumed he was long dead. He thought with a twisted smile that if the girl was as pretty as the men thought, the old Bishop just might adopt her. Surely he was too old now for much more.

“Ye be sure she's alone, Toby?”

“No,” Rafael said very firmly, “she's not alone. She's with me. Let her go, lads.”

Victoria abruptly shut her mouth, relief flooding through her. The man Toby loosed his hold on her and she stomped on his foot with all her strength. He yowled and let her go. She stumbled to the ground and lay there panting.

“Now, boys, I suggest that you take yourselves off
to the Bishop with your booty. Surely there's no reason to upset him and tell him about this little mix-up. She shouldn't be here, and I promise you she won't be here again. It's obvious she knows nothing about you, and I promise you she'll say nothing about any of this.”

“And who be ye?” Bobby demanded, his wits gathered again. He bent as evil an eye as he could manage at the tall man who held the gleaming pistol.

Rafael stepped closer into the light cast by the single lantern.

“Gawd, it's the bloody baron. Ain't it, Toby?”

My twin again, Rafael thought. So they were afraid of him, were they? “Go along with you now. You're safe enough, at least if you obey me.”

Victoria felt her blood run cold. All her efforts, all for naught. He'd found her. He'd saved her. What to do? She came up to her knees, staring toward Damien. He wasn't dressed as he usually was. He looked as much a smuggler as the two villains who'd grabbed her, in his long black cloak and gloved hands.

“Lookee, Baron, we have no bone with ye, but this girl here—”

“I know her,” Rafael said with great untruth. “She won't say a word. Now, go. You have much to do, I imagine.”

Still they hesitated, and Rafael stood quietly waiting for them to finish. “Don't you trust a Cornishman, lads?”

“Aye, oh, aye,” said Toby. “Come on, Bobby, leave the baron be.”

Victoria watched them disappear into the shadows, their lantern swinging between them. She leapt to her feet. Unfortunately, her leg, weary from the hours of walking and the scuffle, crumpled beneath her.
She fell to her knees, swallowing the moan of pain from the cramping muscles.

“Are you all right?”

Damien's voice, sounding concerned. Dear God, he was coming to her.

She screamed at him, “Stop! I won't come with you, do you understand me? I won't.”

She forced herself to rise, grabbed her now very dusty valise, and ran. Pain from her leg sang through her body, making her gasp, but she didn't slow.

“For God's sake, I won't hurt you.” Bloody chit, he'd saved her, and here she was trying to escape him.

Rafael was tempted to let her go. She was probably here to meet her lover and had stumbled onto the smugglers. She was clumsily running, limping badly. obviously she'd hurt herself.

“Stop being a fool,” he shouted after her.

Victoria turned suddenly to see if he was gaining on her, and her leg collapsed. She fell on her face against the weedy ground. She lay there listening, knowing it was all over for her now. He was coming closer.

“Please, please,” she said, not looking up at him, “leave me alone. I won't come back with you, I won't.”

Rafael stood over her crumpled figure. She was quite young; he could hear it in her voice. As for how pretty she was, he couldn't tell. She'd drawn her cloak closely about her, the hood over her head. “Whatever are you talking about?” he asked reasonably, dropping to his knees beside her.

He reached out his hand to help her, and she shrank from him. She raised her face, and even in the shadowy light from the moon, he read terror in her eyes.

“I won't hurt you.”

“Liar. That's all you've wanted to do. Now you've caught me, damn you.”

He stilled, even as she tried to roll away from him.

“Who are you?”

Victoria vaguely heard his ridiculous question, but her pain was too great for her to say anything at the moment, her pain and her despair. Odd, but his voice sounded a bit different, a bit less smoothly polished, like his clothing.

She said finally, “What game are you playing with me now?”

“I'm not playing any game. I'm simply trying to get you away from here safely. Where is your lover? Why isn't he here?”

“I don't have a lover, and well you know it.”

Rafael shook his head. He was missing something here. “Look, miss, I haven't the foggiest notion of what you're talking about. You're hurt. Let me help you.”

She'd come up on her knees, but the spasms in her thigh intensified. She fell sideways. She curled up, and sobs broke from her throat. She'd tried so hard. So very hard.

He wished he could make out her features more clearly in the darkness, but no matter for now—he knew fear well enough when he heard it. She was becoming hysterical. This was all he needed, he thought with growing impatience. The girl had the nerve to come out here, of all places, and now she was falling apart. He tried to make his voice calm and soothing. “I will tell you again. I won't hurt you. Now, let me get you someplace warm and safe. You're already hurt.”

Victoria sucked in her breath. He sounded impatient with her, but not angry. She didn't understand him. She felt his hand touch her and she flinched.

She raised her face to look at him. “How did you find me? I was so quiet, so careful.”

“Find you? I wasn't looking for you. What is the matter with you? Did you strike your head?”

“Please, stop lying. You've won. There's nothing more I can do. Certainly I can't run from you, and well you know it.”

“I'm not lying. Did you sprain your ankle?”

It was too much. He was toying with her, like a mouse in some perverted game. “I can't stop you,” she said, defeat in her voice, defeat and weariness. “Will you simply leave me here when you're done with me?”

“Done with you? Done what with you? Did you hit your head? Can you tell me your name?”

“Stop it! God, I hate you.”

Rafael slowly got to his feet. He tucked his pistol back into his belt. He said more to himself than to her, “Save a woman's life and she raves like a bedlamite. Look, miss, even if you hate me, even if you want me to leave you here, I'm not such a villain. No more of your hysterics, if you please. I'll take you into Axmouth. There's an inn there that will accommodate the two of us.”

“No. Dear God, have you forced other females there?”

“Forced other—” He broke off. She had to have hit her head. She was making no sense at all. “It would help if you told me your name.”

“I won't make it easy for you, Damien. I will go nowhere with you willingly.”

Damien.

“My God,” he said softly, the truth hitting square between his eyes. His twin after this girl? He said very slowly, firmly, “Shut up and listen to me, all right? Good. You believe I am Damien Carstairs? Baron Drago?”

“Of course you are. Stop mocking me.”

“Well, I'm not. Mocking you, that is. As it so happens, I am his twin, Rafael Carstairs. Now, who the devil are you?”

“His twin?”' She stared at him fully now. She knew that Damien had a twin, she'd even seen a portrait of him as a young boy. But he'd never shown his face at Drago Hall since she'd arrived there five years before.

“Yes, his twin. I gather my brother wanted you and you were trying to escape him.”

Victoria drew a deep, steadying breath. “Yes. Then you came along. I thought you were Damien. You look just like him.”

“Looks, as well as people, can be deceiving. Now, who the devil are you?”

“I'm Victoria Abermarle, Elaine's cousin. I've lived at Drago Hall for five years now.”

Rafael grinned down at her. He dropped to his knees and thrust out his hand. Tentatively she took it. “Hello, Victoria. I have this awful feeling that I've just dropped into a bloody mess. However, one thing at a time. Will you come with me? We'll see to your ankle. You sprained it, did you not?”

She shook her head. “No, I shall be fine. I don't think it wise for me to accompany you, sir.”

“No choice, sorry. I can't very well leave you, and you can't walk an inch. Do you have a horse somewhere?”

She shook her head. “No. The mail stage stopped some ten miles back. I wanted to keep going. I was afraid.”

“Of Damien?”

“Yes. He tried—”

“I understand.” And indeed Rafael did understand. His damned brother hadn't changed. In fact,
it appeared that he'd grown a good deal worse. His wife's cousin.

Without any more hesitation he grasped her under the arms and pulled her up. She didn't struggle. But once on her feet, he saw the pain on her face. He simply stood there holding her up.

“I'm sorry, truly. It's just that—”

“I can manage.” He swung her up in his arms.

“My valise,” she said. “I can't leave it.”

He sighed, held her close, and leaned down. “Have you every damned piece of clothing you own in here?” he asked as he heaved it under one arm.

“Yes.”

“And iron-handled hairbrushes as well?”

She smiled, her first smile in many a long hour.

He walked carefully through the undergrowth to where his horse was tethered. “We have a problem. I also have a valise. Well, I shall have to call on all my ingenuity, won't I?”

He lifted her up onto the saddle. “Can you hang on?”

“Yes, of course.”

He grinned at the insulted snap of her voice. “Here, take your valise.”

It took a few more minutes of concentration and then he swung up behind her. “Swing your leg over.”

It was her bad leg. She tried, and gasped as the muscles screamed in protest.

“Very well, I'll hang on to you. We'll go very slowly.” He added, “I'll fetch you a doctor in Axmouth.”

“No!”

“Prickly, aren't you?”

Victoria didn't answer. She was concentrating on staying on the horse's back. The muscles in her leg knotted and pulled and throbbed.

“Fate,” Rafael said, staring between his horse's ears, “is a bloody strange thing.”

“Yes,” she said, “yes, it is.”

He tried bits of conversation with her, but she was silent, and he guessed from her unnatural stiffness that she was in pain. But why didn't she want a doctor?

When they came into Axmouth, Victoria forced herself to speak. “Mr. Carstairs, if you will take me to this inn you spoke about, I will be fine.”

“Will you?”

“Yes. Then you may go about your business.”

He sighed deeply. “What am I to do with you, Miss Abermarle?”

“Nothing. I will see to myself.”

“Just as you did so very well tonight? I don't suppose you've ever heard of the Bishop?”

“Well, yes, I have. Before tonight, I thought he was just one of those Cornish legends.”