Secrets of Midnight (25 page)

"I have to go," she said shakily, realizing
now that she had no idea if the
Fair
Betty
had arrived safely or not.

"Go?"

Corisande heard Donovan's astonishment, but ignored him
as she peered into the dark, looking for Pete. "Yes, I have to go—"

"I hope you mean back to the house."

Now what was she going to say?
she
thought crazily, wondering how she could possibly convince him to let her
continue on her way, and alone.

"No, no, not the house. One, uh, one of the
tinners' wives is expecting her third babe tonight. Peggy Robberts—she lives
not more than a quarter mile away," Corisande explained hastily,
concocting a fanciful story that would have done Lindsay's wild imagination
proud as she named a woman whom she knew to be only a week or so away from giving
birth. "She asked me to help and sent her husband, Morton, to throw stones
at my window—"

"Stones at your window."

Trying not to be daunted by the skepticism in Donovan's
voice, Corisande rushed on. "Yes, to let me know when it was time, we'd
arranged it just that way. But he went on ahead so poor Peggy wouldn't be alone
and—and I was just about to leave when you knocked on the door. I didn't know
what you'd say so—oh, Lord, I can't fail her, Donovan! Peggy needs me."

"So we'll ride there together. You've no horse
after all."

"Yes I do! Look!" Corisande couldn't believe
her good fortune as Pete suddenly wandered into the wide arc of light cast by
the lantern, the gelding looking none the worse for the night's events. "There's
Pete now, Donovan, so everything's fine. You don't have to trouble yourself—"

"Are you mad, woman?"

He yelled so loud that she jumped.

Donovan stood glaring at her. "You were just
attacked by some bloody stranger wearing a hood, no idea who the wretch might
be—nearly throttled, mind you,—and I'm to let you travel on by yourself as if
nothing happened?"

She gulped, venturing the smallest nod, which was
greeted by a scowl so deep that her heart sank.

"I haven't gone through this much trouble, Lady
Donovan, to lose you now. Oh, no, one temporary bride is quite enough, thank
you. I'll not be taking another, and that I bloody well swear."

His vehement words had stabbed her more painfully than
she could have imagined. Corisande lifted her chin, knowing full well what he
was going to say next. So well, in fact, that she beat him by saying, "You're
coming with me, then."

"Exactly. I'm going to follow you like a shadow,
woman, closer than a shadow, until this whole inheritance business is done.
Crashing pilchard barrels, someone following you home,
someone
attacking
you out here on the heath and nearly strangling the life from
you—oh, yes. I'm not going to let you out of my sight."

But what would he do after he'd gotten his inheritance?
Corisande was tempted to ask him. What would happen to her then when he wasn't
around to accompany her? But she held her tongue, knowing he probably wouldn't
think twice about her welfare once he was on his way back to Spain, which hurt
even more. So much so that she refused to think about it further, wondering
instead how she was going to get rid of him.

She knew he'd meant his words; she'd heard that imposing
tone before. But she wasn't giving up, not yet. Resigned at least for the
moment, she nodded, saying softly, "Actually I'd be grateful for your
company. But you don't have to stay the whole night. It might not be
pleasant—to hear the childbirth, I mean, the screams, the pain. Peggy has never
had a very easy time of it—"

"
That
I'll
decide."

As he went to fetch her horse, Corisande realized she'd
more than meant she was glad she wouldn't be alone, the darkness all around
them suddenly become a threat. Yet what was she going to do? If Oliver was back
from France, he was the one who needed her help tonight, not Peggy Robberts.
Silently she accepted Donovan's assistance as he gave her a leg up onto Pete's
back, the horse pawing at the ground.

"Here, Corie, take the lantern."

Corisande reached out to oblige him, but the gelding
pranced sideways, whinnying shrilly.

"I think you'd better hold it," she said as
she drew hard on the reins and sought to soothe the horse. "Poor Pete was
nearly struck three times by that lantern, at least until I fell off . . ."
She didn't go on as Donovan's handsome face was once more transformed by a deep
scowl. Instead she changed the subject altogether as he hung the lantern on his
saddle and mounted, asking lightly, "What had you wanted to speak to me
about tonight, Donovan? I'm sorry that I had to deceive—"

"You didn't
have
to deceive me, woman." His voice was harsh, although he seemed to make an
effort to relax his tone as he brought Samson alongside her and Pete. "You
could have told me the truth, Corie, and spared yourself, spared me—" He
abruptly went silent only to meet her eyes, his expression grown serious. "I
came to ask you for a truce. It's been a difficult week—"

"Only because you made it so difficult," she
interrupted, eager for Oliver's sake to be on their way, yet wanting to hear
what Donovan had to say, his sudden candor astonishing her. "You haven't
been the most agreeable company, churlish, ill-
mannered,
I could go on and on."

"I know, and it's been wrong of me. I owe you a
very great debt after all. I'm sorry if I've made you miserable."

"You haven't made me miserable," she lied,
realizing that that was exactly how she'd felt and for reasons she had no wish
to contemplate. "Just made me look a complete fool in front of the
servants, is all, chattering to myself at supper each night like a dotty parrot
while you've merely sat there—"

"Yes, you have been talking quite a bit lately."

Astonished even more to see a hint of a smile on his
lips, Corisande flushed with warmth. "I don't see anything amusing here.
And as for you owing me a debt, I imagine that's exactly what got you into so
much trouble in the first place and why you're apologizing to me, too, implying
you intend to act more the civil gentleman. My goodness, the lengths to which
you're having
to go to save your bloody neck!"

"What are you talking about? What trouble?"

"
Your
gambling debts, of
course! That's all you've talked about since I've known you—how much you need
the money. Well, unless it's a very grand lifestyle you crave back in Spain, my
lord husband, I'd say you've probably wagered yourself into quite a deep hole
with your fellow officers—"

"Good God, woman, is that what you think has
brought me to Cornwall? Gambling debts?"

Corisande gaped at him. His voice had almost gone
hoarse with incredulity. But before she had a chance to reply, he looked away
from her, shaking his head and muttering to himself.

"Of course that's bloody well what you think. Why
would it be otherwise? You don't know a thing about me."

"What was that, Donovan?"

"I said you don't know a damned thing about me!"

"N-no. No, I don't," she stammered, struck by
the wildness in his eyes as he'd turned back to face her. "Not much
anyway. But it's not as if it really matters—given the circumstances, I mean.
You said it yourself, Donovan, well, that soon this will all be over, and then
we'll be free of each other's company forever. Remember?"

He was silent for so long that she began to think he
had no intention of replying, but finally he murmured half under his breath and
with a wryness that surprised her, "So now I'm a Don Juan with gambling
debts. Amazing. Bloody amazing."

She didn't know quite what to make of it, either, when
he began to chuckle, and she shifted uncomfortably on her horse.

"Donovan, I think we should go. Peggy—"

"By all means, wife, lead the way! The poor woman
needs your help! Lead on, lead on!"

Corisande did lead the way, setting off at a gallop
almost gratefully as Donovan's chuckling became rich, full-throated laughter
that incredibly enough made her feel like chuckling too. But she didn't know
why she should be laughing.

He
was
a Don
Juan with gambling debts, or at least he hadn't denied that's why he needed the
money.

So why was
he
laughing?

Chapter 22

Donovan was still chuckling when they arrived at the
tiny cottage a few moments later, the ride requiring even less time than
Corisande had expected. But she wasn't smiling, her heart battering at her
breast as she quickly dismounted and ran to the front of the cottage, turning
back with a small gasp to call to Donovan, "Give me one moment, will you?
I don't want to startle poor Peggy with both of us beating down her door."

She spun as he gallantly bowed his head to her,
thanking the heavens for whatever strange mood had come over him to make him so
biddable. She knocked twice but didn't wait for a reply as she heard someone
shuffling to the door, instead rushing inside the darkened two-room cottage so
suddenly that she nearly knocked over poor Morton Robberts. His mouth hanging
open, the russet-haired, freckle-faced tinner stared blearily at her as if he'd
just stumbled into some bizarre dream.

"Don't look so startled, Morton, it's only me,
Corie East—Corie Trent. And don't ask me any questions, I've no time! I need an
enormous favor from you, from both you and Peggy—"

"Who is it, Morton?" called a sleepy voice
from the pitch-dark adjoining room. At once Corisande grabbed a candle stub
from the rough-hewn table and lit it upon the open hearth, then cupped the
flame and hurried into the back where a very pregnant young woman no older than
herself was already struggling to sit up in bed.

"It's Corie, Peggy, but I can't tell you much more
right now than that I need a favor from you and quickly!"

"Corie?"

"Yes, yes—here, let me plump that pillow for you."
Corisande fixed the candle to the windowsill, her voice softly pleading as she
did her best to make the woman comfortable. "Don't excite yourself, Peggy,
there's nothing wrong. Only my husband's waiting outside—"

"Lord Donovan's outside?"

"Yes, because I told him you were having your babe
tonight,
and that I had to come and help."

"But I'm not—"

"I know, Peggy, I know, but I can't explain
everything now. I need you to moan, good and loud, too, just how you might if
the babe were coming. Could you do that for me? I'll tell you more when I can"
—she spun to face Morton, who was looking at her now as if she were half-mad— "and,
Morton, you must say yes to anything Lord Donovan asks of you, could you
please, please do that for me? Oh, dear, I know this is terribly strange, but
if I told you Oliver Trelawny's behind my coming here, would it help?"

At once Corisande saw understanding flood the young man's
eyes. It was common yet closely guarded knowledge among the tinners that the
burly sea captain was a friend and benefactor to them all. Greatly encouraged,
she rushed on.

"Suppose my husband asks if you came and threw
stones at my window tonight to let me know that the babe was on its way—"

"I'll say, ais, milord, so I
did,
a good handful too."

"And suppose he asks if the babe's coming tonight?"

"I'll say, ais, milord, far's I can tell 'tes
true, but my dear Peggy's the fairer judge than me."

"Thank you, Morton. That's perfect. Perfect!"

Relief and gratitude spilling through her, Corisande
took a moment to squeeze Peggy's hand, and then she raced for the door.

She wasn't surprised to find Donovan leaning just
outside against the whitewashed wall. Hoping desperately that he hadn't
overheard her speaking with the Robbertses, she beckoned for him to enter just
as a terrible moan split the air, followed in quick succession by another.
Donovan at once stopped in his tracks and looked at her doubtfully, glancing
just as doubtfully inside the cottage as a third moan, this one even more pain-wracked
than the last two, came spilling forth from the inner room.

"It's all right, Donovan, you can come in,"
she encouraged him, astonished that his swarthy face had seemed to pale. "Peggy
and Morton were honored to hear you'd accompanied me—"

"No, no, I think I'll wait out here," he
said, backing away as another moan shattered the stillness. "Go on, Corie.
Do what you must."

"But it's going to be a long night, Donovan. Peggy's
pains are just getting started." Corisande gestured to an
uncomfortable-looking stool by the hearth. "You could sit there, or, well,
are you sure you wouldn't rather come back for me in the morning? I fear it's
bound to get worse, much worse. Peggy's always been a screamer, poor thing—"

"Oh God, enough."

He'd waved her to silence, but that didn't quiet the
hoarse moan crescendoing into a keening wail that seemed to burst from the back
room, punctuated now by the cries of two young children awakened in the loft.
Corisande had no sooner glanced over her shoulder as Morton rushed up the narrow
wooden ladder to comfort them than she looked back to find Donovan had
disappeared.

"Donovan?"

She raced outside, trying not to show how relieved she
felt that he was already mounting Samson, clearly anxious to be gone.

"I'll be back for you in the morning, Corie."

She nodded, struck again by how unsettled he looked
when another of Peggy's convincing moans carried out into the night. Men. It
was a good thing they weren't the ones made to bear children. They'd never
withstand it.

"Don't dare cross the heath without me. Do you
understand? Wait until I can come for you. And if you must step outside for any
reason, make sure Morton Robberts is with you."