Silk And Steel Part 28

Kathryn looked down at the tiny black-haired child curled up in peaceful slumber and felt a swell of love so strong her hand shook as she tucked the blanket under the sleeping baby's chin. That the child was a boy and not the girl she had prayed for no longer mattered. She had carried him in her womb for nine long months, suffered the agony of childbirth, nursed him through fits of colic and croup, and loved him since the moment he had gasped in his first breath of air.

He was hers, she vowed, hers and hers alone.

That he was Lucien William Montaine, heir to the fifth Marquess of Litchfield, was unimportant. Even for the sake of the child she had named after its father, she could never go back to Castle Running. With her uncle most likely dead, G.o.d only knew what fate awaited her outside the remote, protective confines of Cornwall. Death by hanging, or a return to the madhouse. Neither of them were possibilities she wished to face.

And there was Lucien to consider. She couldn't intrude in his life again, no matter that she wanted to return with every heartbeat, thought of him every day, missed him and little Michael, and loved them both more than ever.

She would hardly be welcome even if she tried. Not after all that had happened between them. If she closed her eyes, she could still see Lucien's face as she had worked over little Michael. Surgeons were no better than barbers.

And a woman-heaven forbid! No female of breeding would ever undertake such a deplorable task. No, Lucien could never accept the woman she really was, and as much as she longed to see him, ached to be with him, she knew she could never return.

The baby started crying. Kathryn gently picked him up and cradled him against her breast.

"Hush, little Luke, don't cry. Mama's here." But the child refused to be silenced. He was, after all, the son of a marquess, a high-ranking member of the n.o.bility, and perhaps he was demanding his rights.

The thought haunted Kathryn day and night. If only you'd been a girl, she thought, though she loved little Luke with all her heart. She could justify in some way keeping a little girl with its mother. But Luke was a boy and a boy needed his father. He deserved the t.i.tle and holdings that were his birthright. Guilt that she would deny him these things ate at her like a cankerous sore. Knowing how much Lucien wanted a son only made the feeling worse.

Kathryn quieted the child, crooning to him softly until he hiccuped and slowly drifted back to sleep. Tired after a day of setting broken bones and dispensing ointments for everything from boils to blisters, she gently settled the baby back in his rough-hewn cradle and lay down on her bed in the small alcove behind the curtain at the end of the parlor.

She tried to fall asleep, but as tired as she was, sleep eluded her. She closed her eyes and for an instant drifted off, but a sound near the bed snapped her eyelids open again. A tall man stood in the shadows. She could see the high curve of his cheekbones in the flickering light of the candle, the hard line of his jaw, the straight nose and well-formed lips. Raven-black hair, queued back from his face with a spreading black bow, gleamed like onyx in the thin blade of flickering light.

"Kathryn..." he whispered, reaching out to her. "I've looked everywhere. G.o.d, I've missed you so much."

She went into his arms, her eyes filling with tears, the wetness slowly sliding down her cheeks. "Lucien... I love you. I love you so much." He cradled her face in his hands and kissed her as if he couldn't get enough. His hands came up to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and he cupped them through her thin white night rail, his long fingers gently caressing the ends. Kathryn kissed him fiercely, clinging to his shoulders, whispering how much she loved him. When his hands slid along her hips, she whimpered, eager to feel him inside her.

He found her feminine softness, skillfully stroked her, and Kathryn cried out his name, begging him to take her. "I need you," she whispered. "I've missed you so much."

He filled her then, and Kathryn moaned at the pleasure, at the feeling of oneness that she had been missing for so long.

"I've come to take you home," he whispered and her heart leapt with joy. She thought that he said that he loved her, but another sound intruded, m.u.f.fling the words. The noise grew louder, the crying of a baby, and Kathryn's mind drifted off in another direction. As the son's crying grew, the father's image wavered.

"No..." she pleaded, reaching out to him. "Please don't go." But his handsome face dimmed even more and his tall frame drifted backward toward the door. The baby's sharp cries increased, erasing the last traces of slumber, and Kathryn opened her eyes. Her heart clenched to discover that she was alone.

Only a dream. Another in a series of nightly encounters that left her aching with need, mired in despair, and filled with unbearable grief. Shuddering against the cold that had settled in the room, Kathryn brushed away the wetness still clinging to her cheeks, dragged herself out of bed, and went to soothe her crying babe.

Following the butler down the hall, Jason Sinclair ushered his pet.i.te wife into the study at Castle Running. A smiling Lucien beckoned them in. "It's good to see you," he said, rounding the desk and coming forward to kiss Velvet's cheek. "It seems as though it's been forever."

Velvet smiled up at him. "That's because it has," she gently chided. "We decided since you continue to ignore our invitations to come for a visit, we would simply come here."

Lucien motioned them toward a comfortable leather sofa in front of the fire, his fingers dark against the white lace on his cuff. "I'm glad you did. I suppose I've been a bit of a recluse of late."

That was the understatement of the year, Jason thought. Since Kathryn's disappearance, Lucien rarely left the house, unless it was in pursuit of some vague clue that might lead him to his wife. Sad though it was, Jason had come to believe the girl wasn't going to return, and not even the Herculean effort his friend had undertaken to find her was going to change that. It was as if she had simply disappeared.

"I realize you have any number of pressing affairs," Velvet said lightly, taking the seat he offered. "But even a recluse has to come out of hiding on occasion."

"I suppose that is so," Lucien agreed. "Why don't I start right now? It's past time for luncheon. I'll have Cook prepare something for us to eat."

"Good idea." Jason forced himself to smile as he watched his friend cross to the bell pull, but he was thinking how clearly he could read the worry still etched in Lucien's face. In the months that had pa.s.sed, the marquess had begun to fear that Kathryn's uncle-now completely recovered from his near demise-might somehow be involved in her disappearance. In that vein, he had searched the sanitariums and hospitals all across England, again to no avail.

In truth, Jason believed, it was Kathryn herself who had somehow outsmarted them. She had left Castle Running determined not to be found and, as she had in most things she set out to do, cleverly succeeded.

He wondered if she had even the slightest notion what her disappearance had done to his friend.

"Reeves will let us know when the meal is ready," Lucien said, taking a seat across from them. "So how is it I am fortunate today to be honored by your esteemed presence?"

"Actually, we came to put an end to your seclusion," Jason said. "We're planning a short trip into London. We were hoping you and Michael might come along."

The edge of a smile curved his lips, but Lucien shook his head, as Jason had been certain he would. "I appreciate the invitation, but I'm afraid I'll have to pa.s.s this time. I'm terribly busy right now. I'm working with some of my tenants, making plans for the coming year. I couldn't possibly leave."

No, he couldn't leave, Jason inwardly grumbled. He didn't want to do anything but sit in his b.l.o.o.d.y castle and grieve. Too late, his friend had discovered he was desperately in love with his wife. He had lost her because of his d.a.m.nable pride and arrogance, and the pain of that loss was eating him up alive.

"I realize you are busy," Jason said. "You've always been busy. You always will be. But that isn't the only reason you won't go and you know it. The truth is you don't want to leave because of Kathryn. You're torturing yourself over your wife. You feel guilty for driving her away. You love her and you want her back. Well, it doesn't look as if it's going to happen, my friend. I'm sorry, but it's time you faced the truth."

Lucien stiffened, but he didn't argue, just rose to his feet and crossed to the window.

"When Kathryn left," Jason continued a little less harshly, "she intended for you to go on with your life. Whether you like it or not, that is exactly what you've got to do."

Lucien stared out the window. He was thinner than Jason had ever seen him, his eyes lackl.u.s.ter, with none of the silver fire that usually blazed out of the inky darkness. "I know you're right. I'm just not ready. In time, I suppose I'll have no choice, but for now..." He shook his head. "I don't know, Jason. I can't get her out of my head. Every day I worry about her. I wonder if she has enough to eat, if she is warm enough, if there is anyone she can turn to if she should need help."

He glanced toward them and there was such misery in his eyes, a heavy weight seemed to settle on Jason's chest.

"I know she isn't coming back," Lucien went on. "I've resigned myself. But the truth is I miss her more than I ever imagined. I'm not ready to face life without her... at least not for a while."

Jason said nothing. When he glanced down at Velvet he saw her discreetly wipe away a tear. "If only she knew," Velvet said softly. "She loves you, Lucien. She would never want to see you hurting. If there was only some way for her to know what she has done to you."

Lucien cast a hard look at Velvet. "What she has done to me?" he repeated harshly. "What about what I have done to her? This is my fault-all of it. None of this would have happened if I hadn't been such a stubborn fool."

Velvet came up off the sofa and crossed to where he stood. She rested a small hand on his sleeve. "You mustn't be so hard on yourself. Kathryn is partly to blame, as well. She should have come to you. She should have talked to you, trusted you. You never failed her, Lucien-not once. If she had come to you, you wouldn't have failed to protect her."

For a moment, he glanced away. "No," he said softly. "I wouldn't have failed to protect her, but I never once tried to understand her. That is the real reason she left."

Jason cleared his throat, hurting for his friend as he had each time he had seen him. "Are you sure you won't change your mind and come with us? The children would love to have you both along."

Lucien smiled sadly and shook his head. "Perhaps next time."

Velvet went up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. "I wish there was something I could say... something I could do..."

"Coming here is enough. Thank you both for being my friends."

Jason just nodded. His throat felt uncomfortably tight. The butler appeared just then, announcing that luncheon was ready.

"Shall we?" Lucien smiled and motioned toward the door.

Settling at hand at his wife's tiny waist, Jason ushered Velvet out of the room, thinking he was perhaps one of the few men who knew exactly how his friend must be feeling. Recalling the dark days of his past, he could too easily imagine how his heart would shatter if he ever lost Velvet as Lucien had lost Kathryn.

TWENTY-FIVE.

Why she timed her journey to end on March 15, Kathryn could not say. It was exactly a year ago that she had left Castle Running. Perhaps, considering what she had come to do, it was fitting she return on that same terrible day.

Kathryn pulled her cloak more closely around her and leaned back against the seat of the carriage she had let for the journey. Grady Bosworth, the plump young widow she had hired in St. Ives to help care for the baby, sat on the seat across from her. Grady had lost both husband and child to diphtheria when the child was two weeks old. She had milk and she had been nursing little Luke so Kathryn could continue to work. She was a friend Kathryn would miss when she returned to Cornwall.

"Are you sure his lords.h.i.+p will be wantin' me to stay?" Grady had asked that same question at least a dozen times since they had left on their journey.

"I want you to stay, Grady. Luke needs you. He'll be frightened at first. As long as you're there with him, he'll know that he is safe."

"It doesn't seem right," Grady muttered. "Just doesn't seem right a'tall."

Kathryn didn't answer. Whether or not Grady approved didn't matter. After months of agonizing, of torturing herself with reasons to keep the child with her, she had made the decision she had known was right from the start. Luke Montaine was heir to the Marquess of Litchfield. He deserved his birthright and even though it tore out the last of her heart, Kathryn meant to see that he got it.

She dragged in a shaky breath. She was tired from the long days of travel but the end of her journey was near. She longed to reach her destination, to accomplish the painful task she had set for herself.

And she never wanted to get there.

The carriage rattled over the muddy roads. During the year since she had left the castle, she had managed her money well, earned a modest living for herself, and still had a goodly sum left, enough to afford this conveyance and travel in at least a pa.s.sably comfortable style. It didn't lessen the agony she would face once she arrived at Castle Running.

They pa.s.sed through the village of Gorsham. Kathryn kept herself carefully hidden behind the curtains, fearful someone might recognize her and turn her in to the authorities. They surely must still be looking for her in regard to Dunstan's murder. The village was quiet; the drizzle kept most people inside. A stray cat sat on the front porch of a cottage and the glow of candles flickered through the windows of the Sword and Quill Tavern.

In a few short minutes, the town disappeared behind them and Kathryn opened the draperies enough to see out, her heart thudding painfully as the castle grew near. The carriage rounded a bend in the rutted, muddy lane and pressed on. Through the trees up ahead, she could see the crenellated towers of Castle Running reaching into an iron-gray sky, and a s.h.i.+ver of dread slid into her stomach.

The coachman turned the conveyance up the gravel drive. The wheel hit a b.u.mp, tossing her against the squabs, but the baby didn't awaken. The gray stone walls loomed ahead, high and forbidding, more ominous than she remembered. Kathryn steeled herself, hardening her heart to complete the dreaded task she had come for.

Cradled in her arms, Luke began to squirm inside his soft wool blanket. He fussed for a moment, yawning and thrusting his tiny fist into the air as if he had something to say. Kathryn kissed the downy black hair on his head, crooned to him softly, and he quieted. Closing his silver-flecked eyes, he drifted back to sleep.

The carriage rolled to a stop and Kathryn's heart seemed to stop with it. For twelve tortuous months, she had yearned to climb those front porch steps and return to her home. Now that she was here, she dreaded each of the coming moments.

A footman came forward, opened the carriage door. She remembered his name was d.i.c.key. Kathryn drew her hood up over her head against the drizzling mist that continued to fall and gave him a tentative smile as he helped her down, his eyes widening as he realized who she was and caught sight of the tiny babe she carried.

Racing ahead of her, he pounded furiously on the heavy oaken doors, and a grumbling Reeves pulled it open, allowing Kathryn into the entry. The astonishment on his long, stately face turned to a rare, teary smile when he caught sight of her and the babe.

"May I say, my lady, we are all of us so pleased to see you. We hoped you were well and safe but there was no way to know for sure."

It was the longest speech Reeves had ever made and it brought an ache to her heart and a faint mist of tears she quickly blinked away. "Thank you, Reeves." He took her dripping cloak but didn't take time to hang it up.

"I'll get his lords.h.i.+p. He wasn't feeling quite himself this morning... today being what it is. Why don't you wait for him in the Great Hall? You always liked it there."

She felt oddly pleased that he remembered. "The Great Hall... yes, that would be nice. Thank you, Reeves." While the butler scurried off, Kathryn made her way to the most ancient room in the castle. A huge fire blazed in the ma.s.sive hearth and she moved to warm herself in front of it. Her chest felt leaden. Her heart ached unbearably.

The room reminded her so much of Lucien. What would he say when he saw her? What would he think when he first saw his child? What had happened in the year they'd been apart? She wondered if they were still married and the thought sent a jagged edge of pain slicing through her.

She prayed for the strength to do what she must and glanced up just as the marquess walked in. He paused a few feet in front of her, his spine ramrod straight, and she thought that he looked even taller than she remembered. He was thinner, she saw. Perhaps that was the reason.

Aside from that, his handsome image was so familiar, so achingly dear, that for a moment she thought she must be dreaming again. Staring into those silver-black eyes, at the strong jaw, and beautiful, sensuous lips, she ached to go to him, to touch him, to rest her head against his shoulder.

Kathryn knew that she could not.

Lucien stared at the woman in front of him and for a moment his legs refused to move. In the past few months, he had finally resigned himself to the fact that he would never see her again. Now she was here, standing in front of the ma.s.sive hearth as if she had never been gone, as slender and lovely as he remembered. Her hair seemed darker, her eyes a deeper shade of green.

His gaze left her face, moved down to the small blanket-wrapped bundle she carried in her arms. A child, he saw, and confusion stabbed into him, warring with uncertainty.

"It's good to see you, Kathryn..."

She wet her lips. She was nervous, he saw, her body faintly trembling. Was the child hers or someone else's? Was it the reason she had left him? Had something happened he didn't know about? Did the child belong to him-or another man? At the last thought, a stab of bitterness rose inside him. Lucien forced it down.

"You must be cold," he said. "Let me get you some brandy."

"No... please, I'm fine." Kathryn reached out as if to call him back, stopping him before he reached the sideboard. "I'm sorry I didn't send word," she said on a shaky breath. "I know you didn't expect me... why should you? I've been gone this past year. I didn't mean to come back at all, but..." The words trailed away. She glanced down at the child and Lucien's stomach knotted.

"The child... is yours?" he said softly, groping for words, afraid he would say the wrong thing, afraid of what Kathryn might tell him.

"Ours," she said softly, and his eyes slid closed on a wave of pain. "Luke is the reason I returned."

"Luke?" he repeated, his head spinning oddly, the word coming out tight and strained.

"Lucien William Montaine. I didn't know I was with child when I left, but I suppose it wouldn't have mattered. With my uncle dead-"

Lucien shook his head, fighting to remain in control. "Dunstan didn't die. You're safe from the authorities. They're no longer looking for you." All least not at the present.

Her shoulders sagged with relief. She looked so pale, so terribly unhappy. It was all he could do not to go to her, to crush her against him. He forced himself to stay where he was, afraid that she would once again flee.

"I didn't poison him."

He swallowed past the tightness in his throat. "I know you didn't. It is not yet known exactly who did, but I don't believe you are capable of such a thing."

She studied him a moment, deciding whether she should believe him. She glanced back down at the child, who briefly awakened. His child, it was clear, with the same black hair and dark Montaine eyes. For a moment his throat ached so badly he couldn't speak.

She looked up at him and her eyes filled with tears. "I had to come," she said. "I couldn't keep him from you. I wanted to. G.o.d knows I wanted to. But Luke deserves his birthright and I knew that you would be good to him, that you would love him just as much as I do."

There was something beneath the words, something he was missing. He found his voice but only with an effort. "He's beautiful, Kathryn."

"He's a very good baby. He rarely cries at night and he has the sweetest laughter. When he looks at me I always think of you and I-" She didn't finish. Tears spilled onto her cheeks. "Do you want to hold him?"

His hands were shaking. Very carefully he reached out and accepted the small blanket-wrapped bundle that had once again returned to slumber.

"He'll need a wet nurse," Kathryn was saying. "I brought a lady from the village, Mrs. Bosworth. She's been with us almost from the start. She's waiting outside in the carriage. I'll send her in when I leave."

There it was-the truth she hadn't said or he had refused to hear. His eyes burned. Surely she didn't mean to give up her child? Surely he hadn't heard her correctly.

She brushed at the tears on her cheeks. "He likes to feel the sun on his cradle in the mornings. That always makes him smile." Reaching out a trembling hand, she fussed with the baby's blanket, pulling it up around the child's tiny shoulders. "Sometimes he gets the colic, but Mrs. Bosworth will know what to do. I wrote a list of the things you'll need. I'll leave it on the table."

Lucien stared into the beautiful, pain-filled face of the woman he loved and he thought that surely his heart must be crumbling inside his chest. "I cannot begin to imagine the sort of man you must believe me to be."

Her eyes met his through the glitter of tears and her brow furrowed slightly. "I think you are the very best of men. I wouldn't have brought Luke to you if I did not."