Song From the Sea (38 page)

“Why on earth didn't you get out of the way?” he asked, furious with her now that his immediate alarm had passed.

“There wasn't time. Is Gabriel all right?” she asked, looking around.

“I don't know, and I don't care. I'm in half a mind to shoot the damned animal. I can't think what got into him.” He frowned. “What made you come running into the stable yard like that? You
knew
there was something wrong. What was it?”

“I'm not exactly sure,” she said, her brows puckering. “Something was hurting him. He was in a horrible panic. Thank goodness you got off when you did, or I think he really would have gone mad with pain.”

“Can you stand?” Adam asked.

“Of course I can. Really, I'm fine. My head doesn't even ache—well, maybe just a little, but it's nothing serious, not like the last time. Please, go see to Gabriel.”

“Oh, Callie, I'm so glad you're back,” Adam said, helping her to her feet and hugging her tightly. “You scared the life out of me.”

“I know,” she said, “and I'm sorry about that, but I'm not sorry that it happened. I'm glad I was there to break your fall, for you could have been badly hurt.”

He
could have been badly hurt? He could have
killed
her. Just the thought scared him all over again. He didn't know what he'd do if he lost her.
Dear God
, he realized, shock jolting through him like a bolt from the blue.
He loved her.
He loved her with all of his heart and soul, and he hadn't realized until this moment how very much and how completely. The realization rattled him to his core.

When had it happened? He knew that he'd slowly grown fond of Callie, but he'd been so sure that his heart would always belong irrevocably to Caroline that he hadn't even considered the possibility that he might learn to love again. Then again, he wasn't the man that he had been when he'd fallen in love with Caro, and his needs and outlook had both changed.

Perhaps if Caro had lived, and Ian with her, Adam would have continued on the same path, but that path had been drastically altered, and he would never be the same man again. His essential nature had changed as a result of his loss, and that nature now demanded someone very different. Someone like Callie.

He still loved Caro with all his heart, but that heart, so badly broken, seemed to have mended, the pieces coming back in a different configuration, but coming back nevertheless, despite the scars that would always reside inside. Callie had been his cure, and in curing him, she had given him a second chance at life—and at love.

All this time he'd been falling in love with her, and he hadn't had the first idea. He couldn't believe that he'd been that blind, but he supposed he'd been so busy blaming himself for Ian and Caroline's death, and despising himself for living when they had not, that he hadn't been able to see anything beyond that, including this essential, all-important truth. Callie had spoken to his heart from the very beginning, as shattered as his heart was. She'd spoken to his soul as well, directly as well as indirectly, addressing his lack of faith, forcing him to open his darkened eyes and slowly accept the truth of God's greater plan for him. Apparently part of that plan was Callie, for He'd taken the trouble to put her directly in Adam's path, thereby turning him from a disastrous course.

Not once had she asked anything for herself, and in not asking, she had given him the freedom to find his own way to her. And he had, oh, how perfectly he had. He just hadn't seen what was right under his nose.

He'd even ignored his feelings when he'd proposed to her and she had refused him.

You don't love me, Adam.

He'd been stupid enough to agree with her. And she had married him anyway.

He had to tell her how he felt about her—He owed her the truth, and he needed to know if she loved him in return, not that he deserved it. But now was not the time. That conversation would have to keep. Right now he had to get to the root of Gabriel's problem.

“Come, Callie, sit over here on the mounting block. I'm going to go speak to Haskins.” He settled her on the makeshift seat, gave her one long look, satisfied himself that she really didn't look any worse for wear, and went storming into the stables.

Five minutes later he came out again, his blood boiling. “You were right,” he said, holding out his hand. “We found this stuck in Gabriel's saddlecloth. Haskins swears that he put out a clean cloth last night, and that he washed and dried it and folded himself. He would have noticed a burr if there'd been one, even one this small.”

Callie picked it up from his palm and examined it. “No wonder Gabriel was in agony,” she said. “They're hard to see, but this variety has very fine little thorns, almost like invisible needles. Any pressure on the blanket would have pushed the thorns directly through and into his flesh.” She handed the burr back. “Haskins had better have a very close look at Gabriel's hide to make sure all the thorns are out, and then bathe the area with an infusion of lavender and angelica if he has any. If he hasn't, I have a bottle up at the house. Some balm wouldn't hurt, either. Would you like me to have a word with him?”

“No, I can do that. I'd like for you to return to the house and rest while I take care of some business that will not wait.” He reached down and handed her the basket. “Are you well enough to walk back on your own?”

“Yes, but what business do you have now?” Callie asked in surprise. “Can't you leave it until tomorrow? I'm fine, really. What about the cliffs? I was so looking forward to going.”

Adam turned to her, wondering why Callie was so anxious to go to the cliffs. Perhaps he'd been wrong and she didn't fear the water at all. There was something else, too. Callie looked different, somehow. He couldn't put his finger on it, but she seemed to be more confident of herself, freer, perhaps. For the life of him, he couldn't think why, and he wouldn't be able to find out until later.

“I'm afraid the cliffs will have to wait until I return,” he said grimly. “Callie, do you remember when I told you that I broke my arm as a boy?”

“Yes … but what has that to do with anything?”

“It has everything to do with what happened this afternoon. I broke my arm then because Harold was ill-advised enough to put a burr under my horse's saddlecloth, and I fell when the horse bolted and threw me in the process. Harold paid us a visit today when he delivered your luggage. Putting two and two together, I think I can be fairly certain that he was stupid enough to repeat the same trick. He had both motive and opportunity, given that I'd taken almost everyone with me from the stables so that I'd have people to ride home any horses I acquired. Do you see?”

Callie paled, her fists clenching. “I see well enough. Harold could have killed you out of petty spite, and he deserves whatever you have in store for him. Harold has a debt to pay to Gabriel as well, and I'll be more than happy to see it exacted. What are you going to do?”

“I'm going to go to Fawn Hill, and I'm going to see to it that Harold never poses any kind of threat again.”

20

H
arold? Harold, there's a carriage drawing up,” Mildred said, pausing in the middle of buffing her nails. “Who can be calling?” Her head shot up. “You don't suppose …” Her eyes suddenly gleamed. “Go to the door—this could be the news we've been awaiting.” She straightened her dress and stiffened her back.

Throwing down the paper, Harold jumped to his feet, his heart quickening with excitement. He practically ran for the door as a banging started. Stopping for a moment to compose himself, he straightened his jacket and schooled his face into a neutral expression, ready to express shock and grief when he received the news of Adam's untimely death.

Harold opened the door, and his mouth dropped open at the same time that his heart dropped into the pit of his stomach. “Adam …” he said, the word coming out like a squeak.

“Surprised, Harold? I can't think why. Or perhaps you were expecting someone else—Nigel, perhaps, bearing the sad tidings of my demise?”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Harold said, pulling at his collar, which had suddenly become too tight.

“Naturally you don't,” Adam said, pushing past him and striding into the sitting room. “Good evening, Aunt Mildred. My goodness, you looked as horrified as Harold. May I sit down? I think I shall anyway.” He turned his head toward Harold, who had come dashing into the room behind him. “You had better sit down, too, Cousin, for you're about to have another shock.”

Harold turned a shade whiter as he sank into the chair next to his mother.

“Now that I have your full attention,” Adam said, pulling his handkerchief from his coat pocket and unfolding it, “I thought I would return this to you.” He placed the damning burr on the side table. “Nasty things, burrs. They can do some real damage if they happen to lodge in the wrong place, like a horse's saddlecloth.”

Harold shook his head back and forth, intending to deny everything, but for some reason no words came out.

“Do you know, Harold, you really ought to break the habit of repeating yourself. It becomes tedious, and has a tendency to give you away. Oh—and if you're planning on denying this latest episode, don't bother.” He crossed one leg over the other. “Now the way I see it, I can have you up for attempted murder, which would not be very pleasant for you or your mother, and since you've been placed at the scene of the crime, you really wouldn't have much of a chance of getting off.”

Cold sweat broke out on Harold's brow and his hands clenched the arms of the chair, his knuckles turning white.

He cast a frenzied glance at his mother, waiting for her to say something to get him out of the mess she'd put him in, but she didn't meet his eyes. Her gaze was fixed on Adam and her lips were drawn into a tight, bloodless line, her skin stretched tightly over the bones of her face. Harold saw that he'd get no help from that quarter. She'd send him to the gallows before admitting any complicity, the bitch. She always had looked after her own best interests.

“Good,” Adam said. “I'm glad you both have the sense to keep quiet, because protestations and denials will not improve my temper. There's just one thing I'd like to know before I decide what to do with you.” He leaned forward and he looked very, very dangerous. “Did either one of you have anything to do with Caroline and Ian's deaths?”

“No!” Harold blurted. He was damned if he was going to let Adam pin the blame on him for that one. “I swear, Adam, it was an accident. I
know
it was an accident!”

“And how would you know that?” Adam asked lazily. “I didn't ask if you shot them. You couldn't hit a cow if it was standing three feet in front of you. I did, however, wonder, since you seem so eager to get your hands on the marquessate, if you might have hired someone to kill me, and he just got it a little wrong.”

“N-no, Adam. No, it wasn't anything like that—it really was a poacher,” Harold said, shaking like a leaf. “I heard about it at the Fox and Hound in Smeeth.”

Adam's eyes sharpened. “What did you hear exactly? I want it all, Harold, every last word.”

“There's nothing much to tell—I just heard some of the boys talking about it,” Harold said. He couldn't get the words out fast enough. “They said a man had come in early that evening. No one knew who he was, but he was in a terrible panic, wanted to know who owned the land down near Hythe. They told him it was either Squire Hoode or you, and why did he want to know, but he didn't say, he left immediately. No one thought anything of it at the time, but that was before the word got out that there'd been an accident.”

“Oddly enough, I believe you,” Adam said, and Harold breathed a huge sigh of relief. “To return to the earlier matter, however, you will take responsibility for your actions. I don't take kindly to people who trespass on my property, injure my animals, and try to injure me. Quite frankly, I've had enough of both of you.”

“What are you going to do?” Mildred said, speaking for the first time. “Please, Adam, the shame, the disgrace of a trial …”

“I agree entirely,” Adam said, standing. He reached into the inside of his coat and pulled out a piece of paper. “This is a bank draft for five thousand pounds. In the light of the circumstances I consider this extremely generous of me. You will take this money and you will move to Scotland.”

“S-Scotland?” Mildred cried, both hands flying to her neck, but her gaze was fixed on the bank draft. “But why Scotland? We know no one in Scotland, and the climate—”

“You will move to Scotland, because I want you as far away from Stanton as possible. You can move to the Continent or the South Pole, for all I care, but I know how much you despise foreign parts and their inhabitants. Somehow I don't think penguins would suit you, or you them. Sell this house and use the proceeds to bolster your funds, but move you will, and you will move immediately. Good evening, and enjoy your new home.” He started to walk out of the room, then stopped and turned around. “Oh, one last thing: If I should hear that either of you has put so much as one foot over the border, I will personally make you rue the day you were born. The same will apply if I hear anything even vaguely scandalous about my wife or myself, so I strongly advise you to keep your tongues firmly between your teeth.”