Samantha James (19 page)

Her eyes flashed. “Do not call my memory into question, Aidan!”

He debated no more. “Anything else?”

Fionna bit her lip.

“What, sweet?”

“One night when I returned home from my walk, there were dead flowers on the doorstep.”

The way Aidan’s expression tightened made her uneasy. All at once she felt ill.

She couldn’t help the thought that crept into her mind.

Only one other person besides her mother knew that she was F.J. Sparrow.

Aidan.

But had he known far longer than she realized? Was this just a sick game?

Her mind balked. But that couldn’t be. He’d been with her the entire evening. She discounted it immediately, despising herself for daring to even think such a thing.

“What?” His laugh was black. “You’re considering the possibility it was me?”

Fionna bit her lip. “Only for a moment,” she said, her voice very small.

“Well, I suppose I deserve that.” He got to his feet and paced the room. Stopping before the
fireplace, he rubbed the back of his neck, then gazed at her. His features remained tight.

Fionna wet her lips. “What is it?”

“It’s nothing,” he said curtly.

“It is. Tell me, Aidan.”

“Very well, then. I wish to hell you had told me this when it happened.”

His censure hurt. Until now she’d kept at bay her own fears, wrestling with them. But tonight had proved that these were certainly not supernatural forces at work but altogether natural. It wasn’t some
thing,
but some
one
who was responsible.

“I didn’t know for certain. There was every chance—but for the flowers—that it was my imagination…But the writing tonight…there was someone here, Aidan.” She shuddered. “And whoever it is…it was not an endearment. He wants me to know he was here. It was a message,” she said slowly. “Or a warning, do you think?”

“What I think”—his tone was decidedly grim—“is that you have an admirer.”

Fionna shuddered.

Aidan’s arms immediately closed around her. “Here, stop that,” he said gruffly.

Fionna’s arms slid around his waist. She rubbed her cheek against his chest, loving his strength, the utter safety of his arms locked tight about her back.

His breath stirred the soft cloud of her hair. “Perhaps the police should be called in.”

She stiffened. “No.”

He sighed. “Fionna, be reasonable.”

She started to pull away. He didn’t allow it. Craning her neck, she stared up at him mutinously, her hands now fisted on his chest.

“I won’t even consider it. Not yet, Aidan. There would be too many questions, questions I refuse to answer. What if I were forced to disclose that I am F.J. Sparrow? I can’t do it. I won’t. It would be devastating to my career.”

Aidan’s mouth tightened.

She gave a little thump on his chest. “No!” she reiterated. “I can’t risk it!”

“All right. But if anything else happens, I shall have no choice—”

“It’s not your choice at all, Aidan. It’s my life. My decision. Mine.”

His expression was one of ill-concealed annoyance. He wanted to argue. Fionna was prepared to as well, for she would not be dictated to by anyone.

“As you wish then,” he said finally. “Now come.” He led her to the sofa and pulled her down.

Nestled tight against his heart, Fionna shivered once more.

Such brave words. Such bravado.

Until tonight, she hadn’t thought herself in jeopardy. But now everything had changed. She hated feeling as if she were some kind of prey!
As if a ghost had followed her, a ghost that was now literally a shadow on the fringe of her life.

Raven and Rowan fought creatures of the dark every day. But they always emerged victorious, she thought, the frail over the overbearing, the victory of good over evil.

The thought of that horrid message made her blood curdle. And all at once nothing could warm her, not even Aidan.

For now she feared her life would never be the same.

That the darkness was no longer her haven…but her hell.

There was no question of leaving Fionna alone that day. Aidan stayed until Glynis clambered up the stairs later that morning.

Glynis rapped on the door. “Miss Hawkes!” she called anxiously. “Miss Hawkes! Oh, praise all the saints, there ye are, safe and sound. Why, I was so frightened when I saw the door downstairs, dangling from the frame, it is—”

Fionna had already sprung up from the cozy little nest she’d made against Aidan’s chest on the
sofa. Aidan untangled his ankles and stretched upright in a more leisurely fashion.

Glynis’s mouth fell open. Her eyes flew wide. Fionna’s face flamed crimson. Aidan would have wagered a fortune that the whole of her body was the exact same color. He’d have very much liked to inspect—and confirm—for himself the possibility.

Glynis hadn’t moved since she’d laid eyes on Aidan. Aidan gathered up his coat and pressed an airy kiss on Fionna’s mouth. “I’ll be back shortly,” he told her. “We’re going away for the day, you and I. Dress warmly.”

Impossible as it seemed, Glynis’s eyes grew rounder still. Aidan did not pass her; instead, he bowed low, caught the maid’s hand, and brought it briefly to his lips. “You must be Miss Barnes,” he said with his most disarming smile. “How very delightful to make your acquaintance, Miss Barnes.” He gave her a wink. “Don’t tell anyone, but I’m going to kidnap your mistress for the day.”

Fionna confided later that the little maid remained just as dazzled until the very instant she left.

Back at his town house, Aidan summoned Alfred as he changed his clothing. He had informed Fionna he would make the arrangements for a discreet, reputable locksmith to come and replace the door to her apartments and change the locks to both her residence and the shop. Surprisingly,
she’d made no argument. Even if she had, this time he’d have insisted. He would not have her burdened any further. He also imparted instructions to Alfred on another matter.

Fionna had already divulged that she planned to close the shop today. Aidan was glad there was no need to make that particular argument.

When he returned, his carriage was directly outside the bookshop. Though the sign indicated that the shop was closed, he saw Fionna through the window and summoned her.

She was dressed in a warm brown traveling gown trimmed with fur, and the color brought out the gold flecks in her eyes. Aidan admired her figure, then tipped her face to his as she descended the last step. She met his regard with unswerving directness. She was tired; the shadows beneath her eyes gave it away. But while he knew she was hardly well rested, he was glad to see she had recovered her self-control. Her strength was one of the things he admired most about her.

Slender brows rose when she saw the carriage. But she didn’t miss a step as he handed her inside. He swung his body up and settled beside her. He tossed his top hat on the opposite seat and turned to her.

“Well,” he said lightly, “where shall we go?”

“I thought I was being kidnapped, sir.”

“Well, you are. But you are being allowed the privilege of being asked if there’s anywhere in particular you would like to go?”

Fionna’s heart caught.
All the way to Gleneden,
she longed to cry. She remembered the night he’d first suggested he might kidnap her.

If I should kidnap you,
he had said,
why, we would not be seen for many days and many nights…I admit, though, I find the prospect quite fascinating. I’d take you to Gleneden, I think, where we would be far, far away from everyone…quite alone
,
you and I.

How long ago that seemed. Yet in truth, it had been only a few weeks.

In that uncanny way he had, he always knew her every thought. She knew it for certain when she spied the smile lurking at the corners of his mouth.

“North?” he murmured. “To Scotland?”

Fionna tried to stifle a smile and didn’t succeed. Which in turn, only encouraged him.

He slid an arm around her shoulder, drawing her close. With the other he tossed her stylish little hat so that it landed precisely beside his on the other seat. That, of course, enabled him to lower his mouth to her ear, nuzzling the tiny little hollow there.

“I could take you all the way to heaven if you like,” he murmured suggestively.

Fionna couldn’t resist. “You already have, remember?” A finger on his cheek, she led his mouth to hers, boldly taking the lead. When he sucked in a breath, she knew she’d startled him.

It was a very long time before he raised his head. “Now that we’re done circling the square,”
he said with a dry chuckle, “tell me true. It’s a lovely, sunny day, too lovely to stay in the city. Is there somewhere you would like to visit?”

“Home.” It slipped out before she even realized it; there was certainly no need even to think about it. “Odd that I should say that, isn’t it?” she mused aloud. “I am home, aren’t I?”

“Not so odd at all. When I think of home, I think of Gleneden. I think it’s always thus. One thinks of home as the place where one grows up. Where we lived as children.” A pause. “Is that where you’d like to go, Fionna? To Southbourne? To the village where you grew up?”

“I’d like that,” she said softly. “I’d like that very much.”

Soon they were rolling out of London, past soot-laden snow into the countryside. Aidan tucked a fluffy lap blanket over them. Puffy white snowdrifts piled high beside the road. The sky was pure azure. Fatigued as she was, Fionna didn’t want to sleep. She needed the fresh air. She needed this day.

She needed
him.

At the thought, her heart stumbled. An arrow seemed to shoot straight through her breast. This couldn’t last forever. She couldn’t
have
him forever, and greedy though it was, she wanted him with her at every opportunity.

They ate a hearty luncheon at an inn. A short while later, the farmsteads sprinkled outside the
village came into view. Fionna pointed out the river where she used to fish with her father.

Her cheek pressed up against the glass of the carriage, she showed Aidan the small manor house where they had lived. The gates were closed by the present owners, but Fionna pointed out the window to her room, the room where she’d stayed up half the night and written
Satan’s Path.

Circling back toward London, the horses approached the churchyard. The bell tolled the hour from the tower and Fionna glanced up.

There, slogging through the snow, was Vicar Tomlinson. Fionna gave a soft cry.

“Would you like to stop?” asked Aidan.

Fionna hesitated. If she didn’t, and Vicar Tomlinson chanced to see her through the glass, he would think it strange. “Certainly,” she murmured.

The driver skillfully brought the vehicle to a halt. Aidan helped Fionna down the steps. Vicar Tomlinson had twisted around to stare curiously. He gave a hearty greeting when he recognized her.

“Fionna! Fionna, it’s been so long, child!”

Fionna embraced him wholeheartedly. Gentle and scholarly, she had always considered him a friend—why, almost family—as had both her parents.

Fionna introduced Aidan. The men shook
hands, chatting briefly. Then, Vicar Tomlinson paused and glanced at Fionna.

Aidan cleared his throat. “Perhaps the two of you would like to walk alone for a few moments. I should like to admire the stonework of the church. I believe it’s quite remarkable.”

Vicar Tomlinson nodded toward him. “Your lord seems a fine young man.”

“He is a very good man.” She flushed a little, then waited. Fionna sensed he wanted to ask after her mother.

But he surprised her by saying, “Fionna, perhaps it is none of my affair, but I visited your mother recently.”

Fionna blinked. She recalled her mother telling her Vicar Tomlinson had visited. She’d thought it was merely Mama’s mind wandering again.

“It’s very kind of you to visit her,” she murmured.

“I’ve always been extremely fond of your mother,” he said with a faint smile. “The best soprano in the choir, I daresay.” His smile faded. “Fionna, I must be direct. Your mother’s condition is no better than before. Am I wrong?”

“I fear she only grows worse,” Fionna admitted miserably. “I expected so much more by now. At least some improvement. Some days are better than others. But of late, it seems there is none. Indeed, it seems she only worsens. When Dr. Colson agreed to treat her, I was ecstatic.”

“I, too, was convinced that he could help her,” he admitted.

He seemed to hesitate.

Fionna frowned. “What is it? I have the feeling something is wrong,” she said slowly. “Did something happen during your visit? Is there something I should know?”

“It’s nothing like that. I-I am just very concerned at her lack of progress, Fionna. One cannot help but wonder if the treatment she receives is truly helping.”

He referred to the daily tonic her mother was given at the institution.

Fionna’s throat clogged tight. “I-I begin to fear that I must accept that her condition will never change. That
she
will never be the same.”

“All the more reason to find out if another institution—another physician—might have more success. Again, it is your decision, but I cannot help but wonder if potions and tonics are the answer. Perhaps you might consider another facility.”

From the corner of her eye she saw Aidan approaching.

The vicar touched her hand. “Whatever choice you make will be the right one. I will pray for her, child. And for you as well.”

She hugged him again, then he and Aidan shook hands.

Climbing back into the carriage, Fionna sat
staring through the window for long minutes after they left the village.

Aidan touched her hand. “You’re troubled,” he observed quietly.

“No, I’m just being silly. Vicar Tomlinson and I were talking about…happier times. My father. And…my mother.”

Aidan could have kicked himself. “Fionna, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even stop to think that you might want to visit their graves. They’re here in Southbourne, I presume? We can return if you like.”

A spurt of guilt shot through her. These were dangerous waters she was treading.

“It’s not necessary,” she said quickly. “I-I think I should like to be alone when I do.” Hot shame filled her. Never had she despised herself as much as she did in that instant.

They rumbled home toward London. The movement lulled her, emptying her mind until she leaned her head against Aidan’s shoulder. She fell into a restless sleep.

Darkness had settled over the chimneys and towers of the city by the time they arrived in London. It wasn’t until the horses slowed to a walk that Fionna roused. She stirred.

“Fionna.”

Sleepily she pushed a stray hair from her cheek. “Hmmm.”

“Will you come home with me tonight?”

She gaped.

“No, not for
that.
I simply dislike the idea of you being alone.”

Fionna was silent.

“A hotel then, Fionna.”

She took a breath. “I won’t allow this—this interloper to control my life, Aidan. To control
me.
”

“Somehow I thought you’d say that.” His disapproval was clear.

Fionna pulled herself from the sheltering enclosure of Aidan’s loose embrace and sat upright.

Her eyes narrowed. “There’s a man in front of my shop,” she announced sharply. “Look there. He walked away—Now he’s coming back!”

Fionna’s little nose was squashed against the window. As the carriage passed, the man glanced up, saw Aidan, and gave a little salute.

Fionna’s head turned slowly. Realization crept in. “You know that man?”

“His name is Gates. He was under my command in India. Capital fellow, Gates. A veritable bulldog, I daresay.”

Fionna’s mind was still reeling when the carriage stopped. Aidan escorted her to the rear entrance. Fionna glanced both left and right.

Another man in each direction.

Lightly he touched her elbow. “Wait for me at the door,” he instructed.

He walked swiftly to one of the men. There was a very brief exchange, and he returned.

In his hand were several keys. He opened the
door with one, handed it to her and pocketed the other.

“A precaution, no more,” he said smoothly. “No need to panic.” Aidan opened the door.

“Do I look as if I am panicked?” Indeed, she was rather incensed. “And by the by, I’ll have you know I was quite capable of making such arrangements myself.”

“So you were,” came his smooth reply, “but now there’s no need.”

The tension swelled as they entered her home.

Fionna headed toward the kitchen. “I’ll put on the kettle,” she said curtly.

She didn’t want tea; she suspected Aidan didn’t either, but she needed to busy her herself. She could hear Aidan moving restlessly around in the parlor.

She returned with a tray filled with a pot of tea, cups and saucers, and a plate of sandwiches. Aidan sat on what had now apparently become his favorite chair, Fionna thought with a flare of annoyance.

Fionna poured and handed him a plate. China clinked. Minutes passed, and neither one of them spoke a word.

Tension boiled as surely as the kettle had boiled earlier. Silence cut the air as surely as a knife.

At last he pushed away his plate and saucer. Fionna could feel Aidan gazing at her. She looked away.

Lowering her cup to her lap, she stared into the
brew. All at once she was shaking. Shaking uncontrollably, and she couldn’t seem to stop. The cup rattled against the saucer; hot liquid nearly sloshed over the edge of the cup.

She tried to stop it. She truly did, but suddenly every one of her emotions was spinning wildly away, and she hadn’t a prayer of harnessing even one! She locked her jaw to keep it from trembling as well.

Aidan snared both cup and saucer from her hands. “For pity’s sake, you’ll burn yourself!”

His tone was the last straw.

Fionna surged to her feet, snatched up the tray, and headed toward the kitchen.

“Fionna. Fionna, please come back here.”

She ignored him.

His oath burned her ears.

Her head swiveled back. He was on his feet, striding after her, his features as determined as hers.