Surrender The Night (22 page)

“Yes, I know, but it would still be upsetting for her to see me with you. So, though I thank you kindly, I haye to be getting home.” She tried to tug her arm away, but his grip tightened.

“Home, is it? Don’t make me laugh. Ye’ll niver be welcome here so long as ye have these hoity-toity airs. ‘Thank ye kindly Jack,”’ he mimicked in a falsetto. He stuck his angry face into hers. “ ’Tis not yer thanks I wants, missy.”

Katrina wrenched her arm away. “Well, that’s all you’ll get.” She turned and began to walk up the path. The rain chose that moment to quit playing with them and began to fall in earnest.

He kept pace with her. “We’ll see about that. Do ya think we be stupid jist ’cause we ain’t from London? Well, I ain’t slow as these
Cornishmen. I’m from Manchester, and I know a choice bit o’ muslin when I see one.'Ye’re jist holdin’ out for a lord.
...”

Katrina froze in her tracks, so furious that she didn’t consider the consequences of her action. When Hennessy stopped, too, Katrina drew back her arm and struck him full in the face. “Don’t you
ever
speak so to me again,” she said through her teeth.

Lightning flashed three times, garishly revealing how his white shock changed to fury. He clenched a big fist and began to raise it, but Katrina was already several steps up the path. She’d trod it many more times than Hennessy, and she leaped over the rough patch of holes and stones.

Hennessy apparently stumbled behind her on the rain-slick stones, for she heard a curse and a thumping noise as he fell. Fear chased her tiredness away, and she ran as if her life depended on it; as it might have.

Hennessy seemed to think better of pursuing her, for she was almost to the cottage. However, he roared like a wounded bear, “This ain’t the last o’ this, bitch. Ye’ll see me agin.” Then she heard him no more.

She didn’t quit running, however, until she reached the gate.  She sagged against it. Never had those warm lights been more welcoming. When her heartbeat slowed, she pushed the gate open and went to the door.

She found the family around the table. All except Jimmy. They saw little of him these days. Katrina still tried to teach him, but he balked at every turn. Even John seemed resigned to his rebellion.

The last time they’d discussed Jimmy, John had shaken his head wearily. “He won’t lesten to sense. He’s sixteen and almost a man now, so I can’t strap hem as I used to. Never ded any good, anyway. He’ll have to find hes own way, sence he won’t take no guidance.”

Katrina hoped now that his words would not be prophetic. She cast a wavery smile at the ring of concerned faces. “I’m fine, just a little wet. Gwennap numbers a fine healthy boy among its people now. Moll is recovering nicely.”

. “Good, good. I’m glad you made et back safe,” Rachel said, rising to give Katrina a towel. ‘ ‘Here, I heated thes for you by the fire. I’ve saved you some broth. Get ento dry clothes and come on down.”

After Katrina had changed and had her broth and pasty, she went to the bench where John smoked and stared moodily into the flames. Ellie and Rachel sat with him, chatting about tomorrow’s chores.

Warming her hands at the blaze they needed this eve to chase the chill, misty winds away, Katrina asked, “And how are things at the bal, John? Have they gotten all the men out yet?”

“We got the last of them out today. Only one man was bad hurt, and Will thenks he’ll recover.” But John didn’t seem relieved. He took a deep draw on his pipe, and expelled it in an angry gust. “But thes won’t be the last caave-en lest we get the new tember and pump I’ve asked for.”

“And Lord Carrington won’t agree?”

“Nay.”

Katrina sighed and sat down before Ellie, leaning her back companionably against her friend’s knees. When Ellie stroked through the drying strands of Katrina’s loose hair, Katrina’s voice became a little slurred with tiredness. “Would you like me to talk with him?’ ’

Katrina had met Lord Carrington, a tall, handsome widower, in Truro when she was with John to purchase supplies. He’d picked up the parcel she’d dropped and introduced himself. He’d even deigned to call on her at the cottage a time or two, but when she’d not encouraged his attentions, he’d quit coming.

“I don’t want to drag you ento thes, lass. He might, er, expect you to be, er, obliging.” John harrumphed and clamped his teeth about his pipe, refusing to meet her eyes.

Katrina turned her head to look up at him. “But I
want
to help, John. Lord Carrington is a gentleman and will ask no more of me than I’m willing to give.” When he only gnawed harder at his pipe stem, she covered his big hand with her own. “Please, let me do this. I can never repay the kindness you and yours have shown me, but this, at least, is something meaningful I can do.”

When John looked at her, his eyes still reluctant, she added, “Besides, many lives may be saved if we can convince Lord Carrington to help.”

“All right, lass. But you’re not to go to the manor alone. You’ll waait until after lunch, when I can go weth you.”

“Agreed.” That settled, Katrina ros
e and sent a warm smile to the others. They had, as usual, silently listened to the debates between John and Katrina. “Since tomorrow is wash day I’d best get to bed. Good night, all.”

But once in bed, for the first time in some while she couldn’t sleep. Even after Ellie and the boys retired, she tossed and turned. The winds calmed. Several stars winked at her through the small window, and finally she obeyed their lure and rose to kneel before the open casement. Breathing deeply of the rainwashed air, she repeated to herself some of the prayers she’d learned as a child, but even her communion with God offered no solace this night.

For months now she’d kept unhappiness at bay, but holding the beautiful babe had made her realize that she’d only bandaged over open wounds. She’d literally toiled to put the past behind her. Nothing was more restorative to melancholia than work, and eventually she’d managed equanimity, if not happiness. However, these days she wasn’t busy enough. Her teaching duties had lessened of late because Bryan was now estate manager for a nearby landholder, Ellie had learned all she was willing to, and Jimmy wouldn’t learn. That left only little Robert for her to tutor. She hated being inactive, so she’d cajoled Will into letting her assist him from time to time. She’d found her nursing chores to be the most fulfilling of all her duties.

Except for the birthings . . . During the joyful events themselves she was happy and moved. But later, when the glow faded, she was left with
the specters she’d tried to banish. Katrina rubbed her burning eyes, but finally she gave up the battle. Burying her head on her folded arms, she wept. For herself. For the babe she still mourned. And, yes, for Devon.

“Devon,” she whispered. The sound of his name on her lips was so familiar, so bittersweet. So hurtful still. How many times had she dreamed of him, only to awaken in tears?  But no matter how badly he’d hurt her, it was always the tender, laughing Devon she remembered.

It was he she mourned. Two years they’d been apart, yet the image she carried in her head was as vivid as ever. No hate, no grief, no resolve had been strong enough to subdue it. What future did she have until she could put the past behind her?

Since Hennessy had become persistent
, Will had renewed his own suit. For her protection, he said, but she recognized the hunger in his eyes. Not even for Will, however, could she pretend. He’d not be happy, in the end, with what she had to give. So she’d gently but firmly refused his tentative kisses and shy invitations. During the few social events she couldn’t avoid she stayed with the family. Consequently, Will had become cool to her of late. She could hardly bear the hurt resentment in his eyes, but she couldn’t, for his own sake, give him what he thought he wanted.

Yet she owed so much to Will Farrow. He was kind, handsome, and apparently well-off from his inheritance. Most of the unattached girls in the area were infatuated with him. But every time he took her into his arms, she stiffened. His arms were not strong enough, his chest was too slim, his hair was too light. Though she hated herself for the comparisons, as long as she found him lacking, more between them was impossible.

Wearily, Katrina rose. She wiped her eyes on her gown and went back to bed, but the darkness was evocative. Finally she pulled the sheet up over her head. She drifted off then, only to dream of smoother sheets and the warm, hard body that shared them with her.

The next day, when Katrina and John sighted Carrington House, its crenellated roof towering above the trees lining the drive, they stopped. Katrina wiped her sweaty palms on her best dress, the gray one she’d brought from London, though it was a sight by now. John gave her a piercing look.

“ ’Tes not too late to go home, lassie.”

“No, John, I’ll be fine. It’s just . . .” How could she explain the foreboding that filled her at sight of the mansion, its white walls sparkling in the afternoon sunshine? She took a deep breath and traversed the drive to the formal portico’s steps. John followed.

The butler who answered their knock gave a nod of recognition to John.

“We wesh to see hes lordship,” John said. They followed the butler into the great hall that was filled with paintings and statues, then were led into the parlor on the left side.

‘ ‘His lordship has a luncheon guest currently, but I shall tell him you wish to see him, my man.” The butler stalked off. John lifted his nose into the air and brushed it with his forefinger, but not even his mimicry could ease Katrina’s nervousness.

She looked uneasily about at the wainscoted parlor, the plasterwork ceiling, and the marble fireplace. This room bespoke the wealth and power she’d fled; she tried to tell herself that was the only reason for her nervousness. It was easier to keep her balance at the cottage, for John’s house wasn’t just Land’s End from Devon—it was a world away. She did not have that comfort here, for she could easily picture Devon lounging on that wine velvet settee. She grew more and more jittery at every passing footstep. By the time, an hour later, the door finally opened, she and John almost jumped off their damask-covered chairs.

Warily Katrina looked behind Lord Carrington, but he was alone. Quit being such a fool, she scolded herself inwardly. Devon is miles away in London. She rose and smiled the smile she’d always been told could melt the coldest heart. Lord Carrington, dressed in formal day clothes, entered, leaving the door behind him open. He gave her a warm, surprised smile in return.

“Good afternoon, Lord Carrington. Please forgive this intrusion, but I have something of import I wish to discuss with you,” Katrina said.

Carrington bowed
. “I’m delighted by your visit Miss Lawson. Holmes didn’t tell me you’d accompanied John. May I offer you some refreshment?’ ’

“Yes, please, the day is growing warm.”

She accepted the glass of cool juice he poured her from a sideboard. After he’d given John one also, he invited her to sit. When she shook her head, he sat down on a chair. Katrina took a fortifying sip and began. “Lord Carrington, please don’t think me interfering, but I’ve assisted Will Farrow and know what damage rotting timbers can do to a man.”

Carrington’s pleasant expression hardened, and Katrina faltered. At that moment she heard a footstep behind her.

A deep, courteous voice said, “Forgive my intrusion, Phillip, but I really must press on to my own
...”
The voice trailed off.

Katrina felt eyes boring into her back. She nibbled at her lip, staring unseeingly into Carrington’s curious eyes. Telling herself her nervousness had made her imagine that she recog
nized that voice, she slowly turned.

The glass in her hand fell to the polished marble floor and shattered into bits. Juice and glass fragments flew, spattering her skirts and the trousers of the man standing only five paces behind her, rooted in the doorway.

“Oh God,” she whispered, one hand going to her forehead. She wanted to run to him, she wanted to run from him, she wanted to scream with pain and joy. Was he a spirit called up by her longing?

If so, he displayed a very human shock. Those perfect features paled; she saw him sway on his feet as he sucked in his breath. He rubbed his eyes and looked again. Then, his face beautiful with joy, he took a great stride forward.

“Katrina!” he exulted, and reached for her.

If he touched her, she’d be lost. Somehow, deep inside, she’d known she’d see him again, but she was still not prepared. She could never have anticipated this emotional maelstrom. Knowing she’d lose all she’d worked for if he touched her, she shrank backward, her hands flying up to ward him off.

He went still. His face slowly changed again, and the beauty that had been soft with joy grew hard with anger. She saw in his eyes that he was remembering, as she was. Apparently his memories were no more pleasant than her own. For eternal moments they stayed frozen, her hands out to keep him away, his hands ready to grab.

And this time the look on his face was the one that had earned him the name Demon. ...

Chapter
Seven

To FIND HER so u
nexpectedly, when he’d almost despaired . . . Devon’s hands fell and clenched into fists. He gritted his teeth as he tried to control the conflicting needs to either kiss her senseless or beat her. Relief, joy, and yearning to hold her close mixed with fury, resentment, and jealousy into a volatile combination. He felt as if the top of his head would blow off if he didn’t vent some of his emotions.

He glanced behind Katrina to the stocky man in homespun with the dirty, rough hands of a laborer. He’d risen and started toward them, concern upon his ugly face. Devon looked back at Katrina. She still stood, her hands held out to keep him away. If she’d suffered in her brief time in the brothel, she bore no evidence of it. She was slimmer, but
he’d
never inspired that healthy bloom in her cheeks. Had this . . . peasant given her the happiness she’d not accepted from him? He tried to tell himself no, but his emotions were too overwrought for him to think calmly. He’d found her in the company of another man. How could any male with blood in his veins resist her?

With a guttural snarl he spanned the gap between them and caught her shoulders to lift her to her toes. “Aren’t you going to pretend to be glad to see me, Katrina mina?” Devon b
ent a scathing look upon the Cornishman who would have pulled him away, so he missed Katrina’s quick sideways glance that warned John off. Tonkin stopped.

“No, Devon, I can pretend to no more joy than can you, apparently.” Katrina threw back her head and finally met Devon’s eyes. “We’d both be much better off had we never seen one another again.”

Devon’s hands tightened reflexively on her shoulders as he fought down the searing pain of her words. Why should this reaction hurt him so? She’d done all she could to escape him and leave no trace for him,to track. His hands gentled even as his eyes blazed their need to inflict a like pain on her. His smile was insolent. “Better for you, perhaps. But I’ve missed those little cries you used to make in my bed.” His smirk deepened when she flushed. He glanced over her head past Carrington’s shocked face to John’s worried one. “You don’t seem surprised, fellow. Is it because you know how loose her morals are?”

This time, when Katrina couldn’t stifle a sound of distress, John ignored her frantic little shake of the head and strode up to pull Devon away.

“I knew she’d left England ’cause some devel wouldn’t leave her be. ’Tes no pleasure to meet you en the flesh,” John returned coolly, sheltering Katrina under one arm. “And et’s plaain to see that you’ve plaaced blaame upon a good girl for your own sens.”

Only the lifetime of etiquette instilled in Devon kept him from pounding the man’s ugly face into an even more hideous mess. Carrington’s salon was no place for a brawl. His glare at that brawny arm was keen enough to slice it off. ‘ ‘What has she told you of our affairs?”

John shook his head and gently led a dazed-looking Katrina to the door. “You’ve no claaims upon her now. Leave her be and let the past lie.”

Devon planted his feet and crossed his arms over his chest, blocking their path. “She’ll not leave here until I’ve had my say.”

“You’ve said more than enou’,” was the curt reply. “Can’t you see the lassie is . . . destraught?”

Good, Devon thought savagely. It’s little enough payment for the purgatory she’s put me through. But when he saw the way her mouth quivered and her eyes watered, he wanted to relent. To take her in his arms and comfort her. To beg her never to leave him again. He felt his own shoulders begin to shake with the force of the emotions that seemed ready to tear him apart. He had to get out of here or embarrass himself. Never would he let her know how much she’d hurt him. . . .

He wrenched his body around, muttering, “Later, Phillip.  Must be getting on.” Three steps out the door, he paused and cast a glittering look over his shoulder at Katrina. “As for you . . . Run if you like, but hell itself will not keep me from you. There will be an accounting ’tween us. Soon.”

The sounds of his steps faded away. The front door slammed. Then a loud silence descended. Katrina covered her ears, unable to bear the echoing of past recriminations or the whispers of more to come.

When John ushered her to the door, she followed blindly. She didn’t hear Carrington’s, “This has been a most . . . illuminating visit. Please come again, Miss Lawson.” His gaze raked her from top to toe.

John leveled a warning look upon the man who held such control over his life. “The lass es like a daughter to me. And I’ll protect her as such.” He held Carrington’s angry glare for a moment, then led Katrina out the door, down the steps, into the sunshine.

Afterward Katrina remembered nothing of the short walk to the cottage. Despite the bright warmth she felt cold. Icy fear clogged her veins, making her sluggish. She stumbled often and would have fallen had John not caught her.

Oh God, how many times had she dreamed of him? How many times had she awakened with his name on her lips, believing, in her heart of hearts, that someday she’d see him again? Someday they’d quit hurting one another and have the tender reunion they deserved. Despite their ugly past she was still vulnerable to him, as her dreams proved.

And his first reaction upon seeing her had fulfilled those sweet dreams. Until she’d held her hands out, more to stop her own yearning to fling herself into his arms than to keep him away. How his face had changed then. She still labored under the dark hatred that had settled over her like a shroud.

And he would come again. . . .

When they reached the cottage, she stumbled upstairs and began to pack her belongings. He wanted to humiliate her, to make her suffer. Well, she’d had enough of suffering. For two years he’d haunted the chambers of her heart like an evil spirit. No longer. She’d banish him if she had to flee to the ends of the earth.

The tears fell hot and fast. When they dripped down on her
shaking hands, common sense finally prevailed. Running had not helped her forget him the first time. He was lodged in her bones like marrow. Wherever she went, he went. Unless . . . unless she refused to run. She fell to her knees beside her bed and silently prayed.

Dear God, show me what to do. Help me in this hour of need. The answer came to her, as clear as
if illuminated by divine light. She had to face him down, know him for the profligate he was. He’d been on his best behavior before in his attempt to win her eager submission. Now he didn’t control her. Now he hated her. She’d not waste the rest of her life in devotion to a shade. The man she persisted in loving did not really exist. His fury would strip his false charm away, and with it, his sway over her emotions.

She lifted her head, wiped her tears on her sleeve, and rose to unpack her things. When she heard soft applause, she turned.

John, Ellie, and Rachel stood just within the loft, pride in her plain upon their faces. John spoke for them all, as usual. “You’re as brave as I knew you would be. You’ve maade the right choice, lass.”

“1 hope so, John. I hope so.”

“I must be gettin’ back to the bal.” He tipped his hat to her and hurried down the stairs. Rachel bestowed a warm smile upon Katrina and returned to her chores.

Ellie, however, came into the room and pulled Katrina into her arms. For the first time it was she who offered solace, Katrina who accepted. Ellie rocked her, making comforting noises. A few minutes later, feeling somewhat better, Katrina drew away and accepted Ellie’s handkerchief.

She blew her nose fiercely, then offered Ellie a watery smile. “Thank you, Ellie, for understanding my foolishness.’’

“Et’s not foolesh, Katrina,” Ellie said, her accent more pronounced than usual, “to cry when you’re hurt at a man’s callousness.”

“Your father told you, then?”

“Aye. But 1 suspected as much. If there’s aught I can do to help—”

“I appreciate that, Ellie, but I’m afraid this time I have to depend upon myself. Devon will never leave me be until I convince him I don’t care.”

Ellie whispered, “And can you convence yourself, Ka
trina?”

“I don’t know, Ellie.” Katrina turned to look out the window. “But with God’s help I can try.”

They’d finished supper that night when an imperative knock sounded at the door. Katrina started; all eyes went to her. John began to rise, but she waved him back down on the bench.
  “I’m certain it’s for me.” Her footsteps were measured as she went to the door, but her hand shook as she reached out to open it.

She drew a breath of relief when she saw only Billy. “Hello, Billy.”

“Greetin’s, lassie. May I come in? I’d like a word wi’ ye.”

Katrina held the door wide in answer. When Billy stepped in, his eyes went past her. They widened and made a slow, interested up-and-down sweep. Katrina turned to see Ellie returning the appraisal under lowered lashes.

“Come into the parlor, Billy. This is Ellie, the daughter of the house.”

Billy tipped his hat and bowed. “Pleasured, I’m sure.”

“Welcome, sir,” Ellie replied, curtsying slightly.

“We’d like a word in private, Ellie. I’ll be f
ine.” Ellie nodded and turned to leave, but she cast Billy a final look over her shoulder before she did so. Billy returned it, with interest.

Katrina frowned as she led the way into the parlor. Ellie had eschewed entanglements since her disastrous ending with Hennessy, but Billy was not much better. He was probably like Devon; flighty as the wind.
   “What do you want, Billy?” Katrina asked crisply, seating herself on one of the rickety chairs and waving Billy onto the opposite settee.

“It’s glad I am to see ye, too.” He removed his hat and threw it down beside him. “Aren’t ye glad to find me breathin’?”

Katrina flushed, but her chin stayed high. “I knew I didn’t kill you, Billy. I checked your pulse before I left.”

“Generous o’ ye.”

Katrina leaned forward. ‘ ‘What would you have done in the same circumstances? Stayed with a man who despised you and used you for his own pleasure?’ ’

“And yours.”

Katrina’s mouth firmed. “And mine, admittedly. But I hated us both for it. That’s why I left. That’s why I want naught to do with him now. Demon Devon has nothing to offer that I want. Jewels and furs are poor substitutes for the true values of life: love, compassion, understanding. He wants only a light- skirt, but he’ll no longer treat me as one.”

Billy tapped his hand nervously against his knee, then burst out, “And what if I told ye he wants more o’ ye? That no woman before or since has meant so much to him?”

“Are you telling me he
loves
me?” Katrina’s voice rose with incredulity on the last two words.

“That I cannot answer. But he feels somethin’ for ye. Somethin’ that made him look for ye for two years. Do ye have any idea how much money he’s spent tryin’ to find ye?”

Katrina’s lip curled. “He can afford it. And spare me the implication that he did so out of any emotion other than outraged pride. He’s used to doing the leaving.” She hesitated, but she had to know. “And how many more women has he kept in that house since I left?”

Billy opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. A few seconds later he growled, “That’s none o’ yer business. I can see I’ve come on a useless errand.” He rose, crushing his hat down on his head.

“Why
did
you come?”

“I came to try to help you understand. And, mayhap, forgive. But both missions are doomed, ’tis plain.” He turned to leave.

Oh God, how she wanted to believe him. But the man who’d reviled her this afternoon had no regard, much less affection, for her. Her own pain made her words harder than she’d intended, but at that moment she meant them. ‘ ‘Let him beg for mercy before God, for I’ll have no more for him than he gave to me.” Katrina’s composure didn’t waver as she escorted Billy to the door. Hatred was a poor defense, but it was the only one she had against feelings she could never give in to again.

On the steps Billy turned. “Do ye hate him enough to wound him even more?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

For the first time Billy’s voice gentled. “I know what happened to ye in the brothel, lass. And why ye almost died.”

Katrina took a shocked step back. “And Devon? Does he know?”

“No. And if ye’re as God-fearin’ as ye claim, then ye won’t tell him. ’Twould hurt him to no purpose.”

Katrina laughed harshly. “We couldn’t have that, could we?” When he stayed silent, grimly waiting for an answer, Katrina rubbed her throbbing temples and shook her head. “He’ll not hear the sordid tale from me, Billy. I, too, you see, have pride.” She stepped back and slammed the door in his face.

Billy sighed heavily and turned to leave, but a curtain twitched above him, catching his attention. He squinted up, glimpsing a winsome face framed by lush, shining dark hair.

He winked and blew the pretty Cornish lass a kiss. The curtain hastily lowered. Billy strode off.

For three days Katrina started at every tap on the door. She stayed near the cottage, not accompanying Will on his rounds as in the past. For the first time in weeks she helped Rachel in the pantry. She was dismayed to find their stores so low. Usually the shelves almost groaned under the weight of fresh and canned fruits and vegetables, and salted fish. They were half-empty now.