Surrender The Night (41 page)

This time
she
hurried after
him,
catching his arm as he reached for the carriage door. “Devon, you mustn’t. Jack has some prominence in the parish. If you kill him, others will resent you even more than they do now.”

“And do you think they’ll hail you if you plug him full of holes?”

“No, perhaps not, but they’ll grant me the right to protect myself.”

“And they’ll grant me the right to protect my woman.” He pulled his hand free to brush her straggling hair out of her eyes. “Deny that publicly all you want, Katrina mina. The only person who
matters knows the truth.
You
know you’re mine.” He shoved her cloak aside to plant his hand over her heart. When that contrary organ leaped against his palm, he smiled.

Slowly, sensually, he whispered, “Sleep. Dream of me. I’ll be back in the morning. I want you to accompany me when I visit some of the miners.”

After a quick kiss he leaped into his carriage with that supple grace he used to such effect in lovemaking. “Take us home, Henry.”

Katrina snapped smartly about, ignoring his wave, and marched up to the attic, her cheeks burning. “Who does he think he is to order me about? I should be thankful I can’t wed him. What a martinet he’d make as a husband.” She barely suppressed the urge to slam the door behind her, even angrier at the knowledge that she was prevaricating to appease her own longings. She threw off her damp clothes, put on her most virginal nightgown—fat lot of good that did her, she thought tartly—and drew the covers up to her chin.

Humor came to her rescue when Ellie turned over and mumbled, “Billy.” She subsided with a sigh, cradling her cheek against her palm as if recalling the big hand that had lately rested there.

Katrina smothered a giggle.' Featherbrained peahens, they were, the both of them, dazzled by two strutting males who were better at preening than they were at nest making. With a wistful sigh she drifted off to sleep. In her dreams, however, when Devon came to her as he’d promised, he wore a lush, shiny white coat and sported a long, whorled horn. She rode his broad back, her hands tangled in his thick mane, as he guided her through a gloomy thicket of thorns into a fertile val
ley where children gamboled. .

The next morning Katrina felt more rested than she had in years. She stretched, still smiling at her lovely dream.

Ellie sank to the cot beside her. “Oh Katrina, I’m so glad you’re awake. I need to talk to you.”

Katrina sat up and brushed away the tear staining Ellie’s cheek. “What’s amiss?”

Worrying at her gown, Ellie blurted, “Billy wants me to wed him.”

“That’s wonderful! But . . . why are you crying, then? You love him, don’t you?”

A miserable nod answered her, then Ellie took Katrina’s hands and squeezed so hard that Katrina winced.

“Oh, sorry.” Ellie dropped her hands and rose to pace the tiny space between the cots. She paused to stare out the window. “I . . . don’t want to leave Cornwall, you see.”

Katrina did see, at last. Angry at her own obtuseness, she leaped out of bed and clasped her arm about her friend’s trembling shoulders. “Have you asked him to stay?”

“Of course. He says he goes wherever his lordship goes.” Ellie whirled to meet her friend’s eyes. She said more softly, “Billy thinks if you wed the earl that he’ll stay in Cornwall.”

Katrina flushed and turned away. How could she be respon
sible for Ellie’s future, too? Katrina had never been one to rail at an unkind fate, but she was tempted to lift her fists to the sky and curse. If she wed Devon now, she’d secure Ellie’s happiness but sacrifice theirs. She could not wed Devon under false pretenses; he’d never forgive her.

Yet if she somehow found the courage to tell him the truth, he’d probably withdraw his proposal. He had more than his own desires to think of.  If, by some miracle, he didn’t care that she was . . . barren, then it was up to her to do the right thing. Devon would have beautiful children.

By someone else.

Clasping her arms about her aching stomach, Katrina turned to face Ellie. “I can’t wed him, Ellie. Even for you. I’m . . . sorry.” She dressed and fled down the stairs, her eyes burning almost as much as her heart.

She took a deep, composing breath when Will rose from his position at the table to greet her.

“Hello, Katrina,” he said gravely.

“Hello, Will. It’s good to see you.” She smiled in genuine pleasure. “Where have you been?”

“It’s good to see you, too. I’ve been ... about. Just very busy.”

“Has there been another accident?” Katrina sat down next to John and picked up her fork. She wondered at the grim set of his mouth as he watched the conversation. What was wrong?

“No, no. Nothing like that. In fact I shouldn’t be here now. I just wanted to see you.”

Katrina’s throat tightened at the huskiness in his voice. Before she could compose a reply, Will sighed heavily and rose. “Duty calls. Thanks for the meal, John.”

John nodded curtly. “Duty, eh?’ ’

Will wheeled smartly about and rapped over his shoulder, “Yes, duty. Good day to you both.” He stalked out, slamming the door.

Slowly, Katrina set down her fork. ‘ ‘Why are you angry with Will, John? Is that why he’s been by so seldom of late?”

John answered noncommittally, “I fear he has been frightfully busy.”

Katrina was still pondering the reply when Devon strode into the kitchen.

She glanced up at him, then hastily down, hoping he wouldn’t see her red eyes. He quirked an eyebrow at John, who sat, one foot propped before him on a stool. John shrugged.

“Good morning, love.” Heartily Devon bussed her cheek.

She didn’t even look up.

“John, I want to visit some of the miners today.” Devon dropped next to Katrina, apparently unaware of her ill humor.

“That’s a right good theng to do, lad.” While Rachel fixed Devon two eggs John suggested which men would welcome a visit.

“I’ve brought baskets of victuals with me. Do you think they’ll be insulted if I offer them?” Devon asked.

“Mayhaps they would have been before ’ee bought the mine, but now I thenk they’ll taake et, and gladly,” John answered.

“Good.” Devon smiled his thanks at Rachel when she set his plate before him.

“Do you mean to tell me that John knew you’d bought the mine?” Katrina slammed her fork down on her plate.

“Why, yes. He and his practical miners are the ones who convinced me good ores lie undiscovered.” Devon took a bite of egg.

Jimmy came in at that moment, yawning. He stopped when he saw Devon, then smiled hesitantly.

Devon nodded at him cordially. “Good
morning, Jimmy. I want to thank you for those

wrestling holds you showed me. Wrestling is as much an art as pugilism, wouldn’t you agree?” He sat back and wiped his mouth. “Thank you, Rachel, that was delicious.”

“That it ’tis. I hope I can one day be as good with my fives as you be.” Jimmy sat down next to his father and grabbed an oatcake from the serving platter.

“Practice, my lad, practice. We’ll have another bout again soon.”

Katrina followed this exchange sourly. Apparently Devon had seen members of the family during her absence, charming them with his usual ease. He seemed quite at home, and even Jimmy welcomed him. So easily had Devon won Jimmy’s liking when it had taken her two years to earn more than surly looks from the boy. Boxing indeed! Somehow it had never occurred to her to challenge Jimmy to a fight, though in truth some of their arguments bordered on such. It only remained for Robert to skip into the room with his usual energy and hug his new friend.

When Robert did exactly that, Katrina ground her teeth in frustration. Casually, Devon discussed the weather, the bonfire and the fair that followed it, and even the latest news from the former colonies. With every word Katrina’s sense of betrayal grew. This was her family. She’d labored hard to become part of it. What right had Devon to come along and in a few short weeks gain such esteem? Once he held the Tonkins’ regard, it would be even more difficult for her to refuse him. Temptation was a sore enough trial without this.

Pain made a dyspeptic breakfast partner. Katrina shoved back her plate and snapped, “If we’re to visit many homes today, we’d best be off.” She rose and stomped toward the front door.

She didn’t hear Devon’s comment, but apparently the Tonkins thought him witty. Their laughter only made her isolation more acute. Katrina grabbed her shawl and hurried outside.

The coachman was helping her into the carriage when Devon caught up with her. “Here, Henry, I’ll do that.”

Devon lifted her by the waist into the carriage, then vaulted up beside her. Immediately she swiveled and sat on the opposite seat. Devon sighed. “Out with it, Kat. What are you mad about now?’ ’

Her mouth quivered, then tightened. “Nothing. Where do we go first?”

‘ ‘John suggested the Peterses’ cottage. Would you give Henry directions?”

After she’d done so, she whisked the curtain aside and stared out.

“It’s about the mine, isn’t it? You think I should have told you.”

“Well, shouldn’t you? Do you think I like being treated like an investment? Maybe you should reconsider, Devon. Perhaps you’re throwing good money after bad.” Katrina clasped her hands tightly in her lap, but she was glad the words were out.

Devon leaned forward and covered her hands with one of his. “Katrina, I admit I decided to buy the mine partly in hopes of softening you toward me, but now I truly want to make a go of it for my own reasons. I’ve been down into both my mines; I’ve seen the conditions in which the men work. Poor lighting, inadequate ventilation, clammy moisture that must be hard on their lungs—it’s hardly any wonder so many miners die young. There’s a purely practical side in that healthy, safe workers will be more productive, but believe it or not, I want to relieve some of their burden. Can’t you grant me enough humanity to believe that?”

Slowly Katrina lifted her eyes to his. That swirling amber pattern of brown mixed with gold never failed to move her. Aye, she believed him. Love swelled her heart, pushing anger out. This man was still Demon Devon, hot-tempered, autocratic, and selfish. The past two years had changed him, too. He’d also become a true peer of the realm: setting a responsible, generous example as a leader of English society.

Her throat was too thick for a response.

When she didn’t answer, Devon moved next to her and drew her into his arms. “Ah, Katrina mina, tell me what’s amiss.” Tenderly he tilted her head back against his shoulder.

The love in his eyes hurt too much. She turned her cheek into his coat and sniffed his familiar, comforting aroma of fine linen, brandy, and man. How much easier it would be to reject the old Devon. In one way, however, he was still the man who’d driven her away. She tried to whip up bolstering ire by recalling their fight of two nights ago. He still wanted perfect heirs. He’d admitted as much. Only because he loved her was he wi
lling to accept her as the mother of his children. She should be grateful, really, that she was barren. Otherwise she would marry him—and feel like a brood mare expected to deliver a champion. Would they shoot her if she didn’t?

Abruptly she pulled away just as the carriage jerked to a stop. “Now’s not the time to discuss this, Devon.”

“Very well. When?”

Katrina pretended not to hear as she shoved the door open and jumped to the ground. She pinned on a bright smile, accepted a basket from Henry, and knocked on the Peterses’ door. The upper half of the door swung outward, and she had to hasten back, bumping into Devon. He steadied her with his hands on her shoulders.

Jem Peters himself stood there, blinking at the bright sunlight. “Good momen’.” He looked from Katrina to Devon and back. “And what bre'ngs ’ee here?”

Katrina suspected the picture they made: lord and lady visiting the poor. The image was as distasteful to her as it must be to Jem. “Why, I want to see your lovely wife. Rachel sends a jar of her peach preserves.” Katrina held up the basket, knowing that Rachel had contributed a jar for each parcel.

Jem opened the door and stood aside. “That’s right neighborly of’ee.”

Sighing in relief, Katrina went into the two-room cottage that was divided into sleeping and living quarters by a partition. It was sparsely furnished with homemade furniture, and the Peterses had so many children that the left side seemed lined wall to wall with pallets.

Devon glanced at the pallets and looked around. Only one child was present, a toddler boy. Devon sat where Peters indicated, in a rickety wing chair with frayed upholstery. Devon shifted, looking ill at ease on what was obviously the Peterses’ best piece of furniture.

While Katrina helped Mrs. Peters put the food away Devon said, “I need your help, Peters. John Tonkin tells me you handle supplies for the mine.”

Peters nodded guardedly. “So it be true. ’Ee did buy the mine.”

“Yes. Can you give me a list of the most urgent needs? I want to make an order right away so we are fully supplied once the new pumping system is installed.”

“That’s easy enough done.” Peters unbent enough to smile dryly. “Order everythin’ and ’ee not be far wrong. Rope, candles, tools, fuel, timbers—that be just a start.”