Samantha James (20 page)

“Leave me alone, Aidan! In fact, please leave!”

“I will not. Not until I know what the devil is going on with you.”

She slid the tray onto the table near the stove. All at once tears streamed hotly down her cheeks. She couldn’t contain them, and she despised her weakness. She turned away, praying he wouldn’t see. Damn! He stood directly behind her now. When his hands came down on her shoulders, they hunched up defensively.

Bodily he turned her.

He stared at her, stunned.

“Why are you still here? I believe I asked you to leave, Aidan!”

“Fionna. Fionna!” Aidan was shocked. Bewildered. He understood last night—Christ, even he had been unnerved. Tempestuous she was, oh, yes! But she’d been so strong today. She was always so strong, so in control of her life, her world, most of all her emotions. To see her dissolve into tears like this was like being punched in the gut.

“Goddamn it, I did this, didn’t I? I’m sorry! What did I say, love? What did I do?”

She dashed away a tear. Half a dozen more replaced it.

“Dammit, Fionna! Lend me a hand, won’t you, sweet? I-I’ve blundered and I don’t know how to fix it!”

Hard arms encircled her, holding her until gradually her trembling began to stop.

“You haven’t done anything,” she confided raggedly. ”It’s not your fault. It’s not anyone’s fault.” Her voice wobbled traitorously. “There…there are times I don’t know who I am. Times I don’t want to
be
who I am.”

He stroked her hair. “Fionna,” he said quietly. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Of course he didn’t.

And she couldn’t tell him any more. What was the use?

How desperately she wished that time could
turn back. For her mother. For her father. When there had been life and joy for both of them.

And for herself and for Aidan. She ached with the need to go back to last night, to the thrill of being possessed by him. To those hours afterward when he’d held her tight, when she’d felt so safe and cherished, and nothing mattered but the magic of being with him.

What a fool she was. She couldn’t be with Aidan. For now, yes. But not forever.

It was as if she’d been crippled. She couldn’t change the past. She couldn’t change the present, and she certainly couldn’t change the future.

All she knew was that she couldn’t risk Aidan discovering the truth about her mother.
Especially
him. The burden was hers. Hers alone. It wasn’t fair to him, not when there could never be more between them. It wasn’t fair to her, to
expect
more than there could ever be.

“Look at me, Fionna.”

She didn’t want to, yet somehow she couldn’t stop herself either. His gaze probed deep into hers.

“I sense you struggling. Why are you so tormented? Do you think I do not see? Do you think I don’t
know
?”

She shook her head. “Don’t ask me those things, Aidan. Please don’t. I have no wish to argue, Aidan.”

“And why should we argue? Dammit, Fionna, just talk to me. Let me help you.”

She made a low, choked sound. “No one can help me.”

The anguish in her face cut him to the bone.

“Fionna! Stop hiding!” he swore.

“I am not hiding!”

“The hell you’re not! There’s something you’re not telling me.”

She tried to pull away. He loosened his grip, but wouldn’t release her. He captured her chin so that she had nowhere to look but at him.

“I can’t, Aidan.
I can’t.
All I can say is that…I have obligations.”

“Yes, yes,” he said impatiently. “We all have obligations. We all have responsibilities.”

“Not like this! There are things you don’t know—”

She broke off…and broke away.

How impossible she was!

He swung her around, his blue eyes sizzling. He held her close. He held her hard. “You’re hiding something,” he said flatly. “I don’t know what the blazes is going on, but something is. What are you hiding?
What?
I hate these secrets between us. There should
be
no secrets. Have you broken the law? Done something illegal? Are you hiding from the police? From someone else?”

She stared at him, stupefied. Aghast.

“What then? Are you in trouble? Are you being blackmailed? God, just tell me, Fionna! Tell me and perhaps I can help you. Perhaps my family can.”

Her eyes filled with tears, nearly killing him inside.

She shook her head. Her face was deathly pale, but she pressed her lips together—holding her secret in, keeping him out.

Fighting him off.

He wanted to shake the truth from her. “What then?” he demanded. “For God’s sake, just tell me!”

Fionna grappled for composure. Salvaged it. Conviction gathered full and ripe. He prodded, he probed like the tip of a rapier.

“You presume too much,” she told him stiffly.

“And you tell me too little.” His features were etched in bitter reproof.

“I think not.”

“You said you trusted me.” It was an accusation.

There was a stifling silence—a particularly bitter one on his part.

His jaw clenched hard. “I’ve bared my soul to you, Fionna, my
soul.
And by God, you are going to tell me what’s wrong,” he told her fiercely. “For now, I’ll let it be on your terms. But you
will
tell me.”

Inside, Fionna flinched from his unbending gaze. But outside—she would never show it. It was just as she’d said. No one could help her. No one could help her mother. Perhaps not even Dr. Colson.

“I won’t be controlled, Aidan. And I won’t be
told what to do,
Colonel,
as if I were one of the men under your command!”

“It’s not command or control but concern that motivates me.” His tone—his regard—was as icy as hers. “There’s a distinction, Fionna.”

“My life is my own,” she said coldly. “I thought we’d established that. Now please release me.”

Aidan neither agreed nor disagreed. He let her go. “Are you certain you won’t let me make arrangements for a hotel?”

Fionna took a step back. She twitched her skirts into place, her chin as stubborn as her pride, he decided blackly.

“No. I won’t allow this invader to control me, to try to frighten me from my own home. I’ve work to do, a novel to finish. Heaven knows I’ve lost enough time as it is. Besides, there’s no need to fuss. I can take care of myself.”

He stalked toward the door, then turned. “I’ve business in Southampton and Dublin for the next week,” he growled. “I won’t be back until next Monday, and dammit, I cannot get out of it. Just remember, you’re not alone. My men—”

“I have no quibble if those men are outside at night. But I won’t be hounded during the day, Aidan. I won’t feel as if I’m being dogged.”

Their eyes collided, but she frowned when he went to his greatcoat and reached into an inner pocket.

When he turned, there was a small pistol in his hand.

Fionna gasped, her eyes suddenly huge.

He pressed it into her palm, folding her fingers around the cold steel.

Fionna stared at it, still stunned. Swallowing, she looked up at him, her eyes huge. “Aidan—”

His gaze bored into hers. “Do not refuse me in this, Fionna. It will ease my mind if you have it. Now tell me, have you ever used a gun?”

“A few times when I was young,” she said faintly. “I went hunting with my father on occasion.”

“Excellent. I’ll have Gates take you out and acquaint you with this one,” he said curtly. “It’s accurate at fairly close range. But one shot is all you’ll have. Remember that.”

Fionna was still reeling.

“Promise me you will carry it, Fionna.
Always.
Promise me.” His tone warned he would tolerate no argument. Slowly she nodded.

“Trust no one, Fionna.
No one.
No one except Alec.”

“Alec!” Panic sparked fearfully. “Aidan! You promised you wouldn’t tell!”

“And I did not. But should you need anything, anything at all, do not hesitate to contact him. I trust Alec with my life, and so should you. Do you understand?”

Another nod. Her lips were tremulous. She felt suddenly abandoned. This was so unexpected. She hadn’t realized he would be gone on business.

He was already at the door. “Lock the door behind me.” He didn’t glance back as he exited.

He was leaving, she thought numbly. Leaving!

And he hadn’t kissed her—but oh, how keenly she missed it. How desperately she wished he had! It would drive away the pain, the ache in her breast.

Make them forget their quarrel.

Stupidly—foolishly!—she slid to her knees, buried her hands in her face, and dissolved into tears.

Aidan went from Fionna’s apartment to Alec’s home. Alec had just returned from an evening at his club. He had just settled himself behind the desk in his study when Aidan strode in like a whirlwind. He headed straight to the whisky decanter.

Alec touched his fingertips together. “Well,” he remarked, “I gather something is on your mind.”

Aidan’s anger was still too fresh to withhold. He downed the first drink and poured another. Only then did he seat himself across from Alec.

“May I hazard a guess? I believe this has to do with Miss Hawkes. You are perhaps experiencing—frustrations, shall we say—where the lady is concerned. You are perhaps experiencing…frustrations that involve—”

Aidan had yet to participate in the conversation. He glowered at his brother. “I will not reveal details of that particular part of my life—with that particular lady—to you, Your Grace. Nor to anyone for that matter.”

“Nor would I ask you to,” Alec answered mildly. “And you did not allow me to finish. I was about to say you are perhaps experiencing frustrations that involve matters of the heart.”

Aidan expelled a long, pent-up breath. “Forgive me for playing the brute, Alec.”

“Done. I’ve done the very same often enough over the years. A role we exchanged countless times, I daresay.” Alec gave a half smile.

“That was when we were children.”

“True enough, I suppose.”

“And it wasn’t about a woman. Well, there’s Annie, of course. But not about—”

“The lovely Miss Hawkes.”

Aidan nodded. He set aside the glass and rubbed his temples. His head ached abominably.

“I lost my head, Alec. I lost my temper. And I think I’m losing my heart.”

Alec leaned back in his chair. “Is that so very bad?”

“It is when I’ve no idea if she feels the same,” Aidan admitted. “Fionna, well, she doesn’t wear her heart on her sleeve. She wants me. Then she does not want me.”

“Hmmm. Only a woman can see the logic in that, I suppose.”

Aidan took a breath. “She may be in danger, Alec.”

Alec’s smile faded. “What’s going on?”

Aidan made a split-second decision. He’d promised Fionna he wouldn’t tell a soul she was F.J. Sparrow. And he didn’t. But he relayed Fionna’s notion that she’d been followed, the bizarre message scrawled across her windowpane.

“That’s not the least of it,” Aidan finished. “There’s something she refuses to tell me. Something she hides.”

Alec studied him. “Well, you are the strategist. There has to be a way to find out what she’s hiding.”

Aidan said nothing.

Alec sighed. “For pity’s sake, think, man. Regardless of how much you want to forget that part of your life, you were brilliant in the Punjab,
and for pity’s sake, don’t tell me otherwise! Obviously you found many ways to penetrate, to overcome the enemy’s forces—”

“Not always, Alec. You know that. Besides, I should hardly call Fionna an enemy.” His smile held little mirth. “Quite the contrary.”

“You know very well what I mean. How would you gather your information? I suppose,” Alec said dryly, “that torture is out of the question here.”

“Whatever makes you think I resorted to such tactics?”

Alec eyed him. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of that.

“Well, what tactics would you resort to? What tactics
did
you resort to?”

Aidan made no answer. His features were very taut. Alec was quite sure he didn’t want to know after all.

“The problem,” Aidan said finally, “is that very few options are open to me. And the necessary tactics, well, they’re hardly likely to win me the lady’s heart.”

Alec’s curiosity overrode all. “All that aside, if you were back in the Punjab, what would you do?”

Aidan gave a brittle laugh. No, he certainly hadn’t forgotten that part of his life.

“Let me ask you the same question, Alec. What would
you
do in such a case?”

The duke of Gleneden needed no time to ponder or consider. “I’d send in a spy,” he said bluntly.

Smiling grimly, Aidan placed his hands flat on the desk top and rose to his full, imposing height. “Exactly.”

The week seemed to drag on forever. On Sunday morning, Fionna shook off the snow from her parasol and entered the hospital. Her steps a rhythmic echo, she directed them down the corridor, trying to close her ears to the sound of someone screaming.

The screams were coming from her mother’s room.

Fionna threw open the door.

Her mother’s hair was wild and uncombed, her eyes red-rimmed and sunken. She still wore her night rail. Arms outstretched, her movements jerky, she turned this way and that, as if warding off some unseen predator.

She looked like a wraith.

“No! Stay back! Don’t come near me. William…William! Make them stay away!”

“I’m sorry,” said one of the nurses. “She won’t let us touch her today, nary a one of us. We had to pull her from under the bed. She believes the beasties have come for her.”

Fionna set aside her reticule, set aside her shock, though the price she paid was with every ounce of her being.

“Come, Mama,” she began calmly. “Let us help you dress.”

“You!” her mother cried. She pointed a bony, wavering finger at Fionna. “You are the one!” she accused. “You created them. You command them. You command them all! The devil, the demons. I know who you are! You’re a monster, just like the rest of them! Don’t touch me. Don’t let her near me!” She began to scream again, shrill, ear-piercing screams that shattered the walls of Fionna’s mind.

And every corner of her heart.

Bile stung her throat. Her insides twisted into an ugly knot. Self-loathing poured through her.

Had she done this? Was she responsible for her mother’s condition? Had her novels of devils and demons sent her to a place where she felt she could not escape them?

Blindly she ran. Blindly into the light, no longer benign but obscene after what she had just witnessed. Her stomach churned sickeningly.

She ran into the bushes and retched.

Her head was still buzzing when she finally dragged herself upright. Tears sparkled on her lids. Her vision was a watery blur. She gazed neither right nor left, and so nearly collided with a tall figure.

“Miss Hawkes?”

She looked up. It was Dr. Colson.

“I just saw my mother.”

He sighed. There was no need to say more.

“She wasn’t in such dreadful condition when I last saw her.” Fionna could barely speak for the tightness in her chest. Her tone was halting. “She did not recognize me then, or even the time before. But today she…I do not understand how she could change so quickly…” Her throat closed off.

“Unfortunate that you had to see her today. But I would remind you that her deterioration is not so sudden as you say. I fully agree, however. Her condition is alarming.” He paused. “Miss Hawkes, I hesitate to tell you this, for I know it will distress you. Yesterday your mother attacked another patient.”

Fionna recoiled as if she’d been struck. “No,” she said shakily. “That cannot be.” Her mother violent? It was as if…as if it were from one of her novels. After hearing Mama’s tirade, she felt sick, sick to her very soul. She
had
done this. Through her writing. Her work.

“I saw it myself, Miss Hawkes.” As ever, he was the voice of reason.

Fionna gazed at him painfully. “Dr. Colson, I think it is time that we consider another—”

He held up a hand. “Wait. I believe I know what you are going to say. But I ask that you hear me out, that you bear with me a bit longer. I’ve been experimenting with a new draught prepared especially for your mother’s particular
needs. I’ve been hesitant to tell you about it until I deemed the prospects encouraging. But I am pleased to tell you, Miss Hawkes, that I believe your mother could benefit greatly from this new treatment.”

“Dr. Colson, it’s been months, and there have been no results.”

“This one is different. Results should be seen by the end of a week. Two at most. With your approval, I’ll start it within the hour.”

He paused expectantly.

More tonic. More draught. Fionna was growing tired of such promises.

She’d had such high hopes when they came to London. Yet now, it was as if there was no hope left.

Only disappointment. Only despair, and the taste was bittersweet.

Her heart felt dull and lifeless. Did two more weeks truly matter?

She nodded her agreement.

“Excellent,” beamed the doctor.

An icy drizzle had begun to fall by the time Fionna reached home. She knew she should write, but she was exhausted. Tired of working. Writing. So tired of everything. But she had a chapter to submit soon else this month’s publication of
Demon of Dartmoor
would be delayed. She couldn’t chance that. She might need the funds even more
if Mama stayed in Dr. Colson’s institution. Even if she didn’t, the hunt for a new facility must begin. Money was necessary.

It gave her a start when a tall figure rose from the chair. “Hello, Fionna.”

She blinked. It was a moment before she recalled Aidan had retained a set of her keys.

A part of her longed to hurtle herself against him, to close out the world and everything in it, to lose herself in passion and surrender.

She set her reticule on the table beside the door and tugged off her cloak, a little puzzled. “I thought you wouldn’t be back until tomorrow.”

“I finished my business a day early.”

He stepped close, lifting her face to his. “You’ve been crying,” he said very quietly. “Why?”

She avoided his regard. “I’ve had several very late and unproductive nights. It’s silly I know, but I’ve been fretting a bit.”

“Is that all?”

Why was he being so insistent? “Yes,” she lied.

“All has been well? No more messages? No threats?”

Her nod was jerky.

His fingers caught hers. He tugged her to the sofa.

“Why are you here, Aidan?”

His eyes flickered. “I promised I would not invade your sanctum without your permission. For this, I apologize. However, I thought the
situation warranted it. It was either here…or there.”

There was an odd note in his voice. Fionna looked at him sharply. “Here or there?” she repeated. “And I’ve no idea what situation you refer to.”

Something surfaced in his eyes, something that made her heart begin to thud.

“The truth is, Fionna, I’ve had you watched while I was gone.”

“Of course. Of course I knew your men were here at night—”

“Not just then,” he interrupted, watching her closely. “Even during your…daytime jaunts.”

“What? For heaven’s sake, why? And by whom? Your cronies? I told you I did not mind if they were here at night, Aidan—”

He cut her off once more. “Gates followed you last Tuesday after you closed the shop. Again on Thursday, after the shop closed. Oh, and let us not forget today. Since I was home, well, I followed you today.”

“Gates followed me,” she repeated. “And you followed me…“All at once she felt crushed inside. “Why? Why would you do this? Treat me like a—a traitor!”

He ignored her outburst.

“You visited the same place each time. Tuesday, Thursday, and today. Three blocks north, two to the east, and north again. It’s a red brick building
at the end of the street, quite lovely, in fact. If one didn’t know it was there, why, one might quite easily miss it.”

He paused. “This is purely a guess, but given the regularity of the hour, I should imagine you’ve been going there for some time. Odd, that you never mentioned it to me. After all, as you once told me, you are a woman of regularity. I distinctly recall, the utmost regularity, you said.”

A feeling of utter dread began to seep through her, mingled with a furious resentment. “How dare you. How dare you pry into my life like this! It’s none of your affair where I go, when I go, and whom I choose to see.”

“Yes, your life is your own, isn’t it, as you persist in telling me.”

His curtness stung.

“The situation is this, sweet. I knew you were hiding something from me. I simply did not know
what.
However, you should know I can easily find out what is in that building. And who. My cronies, as you call them, are quite skilled at discovering information—and extracting it as well. Gates in particular. After all, he was trained by me.”

Fionna’s heart seemed to stumble. She felt herself blanch. “Sweet heaven,” she breathed. “What have you done…” She moaned. “Oh, Lord, what have you done? Are you telling me he
knows—
”

“He knows you visit
that
building. The one I
saw for myself today. That is all he knows. As for why, I wish to hear it from you. I wish to give you the opportunity to tell me yourself. That is why I am here.”

Inside, she was crumbling. But by heaven, she wouldn’t let him see it.

She disguised it, feeling betrayal burn inside her. Letting it burn like the red-hot poker of Satan himself.

She was on her feet before she knew it. “You bastard,” she said feelingly. “You deceived me, Aidan. You had those men follow me, and you did not tell me! You told me you were in Southampton and Dublin, but perhaps it was just a lie—”

“Do not speak to me of lies! I did not lie to you, I simply did not tell you about my men! Indeed, I think you are the one who has been lying all along.”

Her face was bloodless. She knew it. She’d been caught. Trapped. Devastation swept over her. She almost hated him for doing this to her, for making her feel so guilty when all she sought was to protect herself and her mother!

He arose, his expression taut. “It’s time, Fionna, time for you to tell me the truth. What do you conceal? It’s more than the fact that you are F.J. Sparrow. This is what you’ve been hiding from me all along, isn’t it? Yet I cannot imagine anything that could be so horrible that you cannot tell me, that you refuse to trust me!”

“You’ve ruined me, Aidan. You’ve ruined
us
!”

He uttered an impatient oath. He caught her wrists when she would have raised them. “I have ruined no one!”

Panic swelled. She tried to tear herself away. He wouldn’t allow it. He jerked her close, the strength of his grip like bands of iron.