'No, no!'
But our friend Court here is made of sterner stuff. We make the fellow get down on his belly, still blindfolded, and push his way back, back, until his body's over the side and he's hanging on by his fingertips. Then Court asks him his questions again. 'Who sent you? Who do you report to?' And the fellow answers every question, all the time begging that we pull him off the cliff, don't let him fall."
"Fall," Ainsley repeated, and now he was smiling. "Fall off a cliff,
inland,
in Romney Marsh. Obviously not a local resident. Go on, please. Did you let him fall, Court?"
"Yes, sir, that I did. I find that I am a mean, mean man," Courtland said, shaking his head to refuse a glass of wine.
"He ripped off the man's blindfold and shouted, 'Die, you bastard!'" Spencer said. "Then he stood there, his feet not a yard from the man's head, his hands on his hips just so, that damn black mask showing nothing but the fire in his eyes, and watched as the man slowly lost his grip and fell."
Cassandra's hand flew to her mouth in shock.
"Screamed like a stuck pig, he did," Spencer continued, "until he found himself standing upright now on solid ground two feet below the
cliff.
Then he really howled!"
Cassandra was glad she already had her mouth covered, for a giggle threatened to escape as she realized what Courtland had done. He'd hung the man over a small outcropping, dangled him only a few feet above the ground, and let the poor creature believe he was hanging over a huge cliff, soon to fall to his death. No wonder he'd told them what they wanted to know!
That last thought sobered Cassandra, and she held her breath, listening to what would be said next, hopefully a recitation of what they'd learned from their captive.
And that's just what Courtland reported to her father. The man obviously was in the pay of Edmund Beales, although he said he knew no names, and had been sent to find the best land route to the large house they'd earlier seen from the sea. He was to find out the name of the house, of the family that lived there, and report back to his master, in London.
Ainsley sat forward in his chair. "Where in London?"
Courtland shook his head. "Some nameless pub near Piccadilly. No great help to us, although we'll send the information we have along to Chance and he might have a better idea as to where to search. I don't believe the man we brought back here with us tonight will be any more help to us, unfortunately."
"Where is he now, Courtland?" Ainsley asked, getting to his feet.
"Jacko's got him, at the smithy. If he does know anything else, he'll be telling it to Jacko, chapter and verse, before Waylon can heat the irons. I told Jacko not to bother, the man knows very little, but you know Jacko. He likes to do things his own way."
"I'll go see the man personally, if anyone cares to join me," Ainsley said, and Spencer and Ethan turned toward the door, so that Cassandra quickly stepped back into the shadows at the staircase until the three men had passed by her, on their way to the front of the house and the path to the village that was uncluttered with spikes and wooden balls of stakes.
Only when she heard the front door closing did she venture from her hiding place and walk into the study, saying, "Papa? I'm on my way down to the kitchens with this tray, and wondered if you'd like me to— Oh, Court. Where's Papa?"
He was already on his feet, the black cape slung over his arm, the black slouch hat sitting upside-down on the couch, the black silk mask evident inside it. He seemed to be mentally debating between picking up the hat or standing in front of it, as if she hadn't yet seen it. "He went over to the village with Spence and Ethan. You…you, um, just missed him."
And then he seemed to remember who he was, his supposed position in the household, and in her life. He looked at her sharply, his eyelids narrowed. "Why aren't you in bed?"
Cassandra rolled her eyes as she deposited the tray on a nearby tabletop. "Oh, for pity's sake, Court, you're not in charge of when I go to bed."
"Clearly," he said, at last turning around to pick up the hat and mask. "I am, however, in charge of when I go to bed, and that's just what I'm going to do right now. If you'll excuse me?"
But Cassandra, who had not advanced much beyond the doorway, stood her ground. "No, I don't think I will. I heard everything, Court. I was standing just outside this door, and I heard it all."
"Yes, I'd already figured that out on my own, thank you. And you'll be repeating nothing of what you've heard to any of the women."
"Another order, Courtland? What did you think I was going to do? Run through the house ringing a bell, telling everyone you went riding out as the Black Ghost again?"
"No, I don't think that. I apologize," Courtland said, looking at her curiously. "But what have you been doing, Cassandra? This past week, I mean. Why are you constantly following at Odette's heels? Because if that's in the way of a warning for me to stay away from you— "
"Or else I'll beg Odette to put a Voodoo curse on you? She doesn't do that, Court."
"No," he said, smiling. "She threatens to turn people into toads, remember? But she's never done it. The thing to figure out is that she's all bluster, and all loving. Even when she's chasing you with a spoon for disobeying her. It has been a long time since she chased me, but I remember those incidents well."
Cassandra returned his smile, but her heart ached. "She never tried to take my mother's place, but she did her best, didn't she? I love her so much."
Courtland put down the cape and walked over to her, took hold of her shoulders. "Callie? What should I know?"
"Nothing. I'm tired, that's all. Eleanor seems to have slept so much in the past months, confined to her bed, that now she barely sleeps at all. She keeps making lists, and asking questions and refusing to ever take no for an answer when she asks if we know anything she doesn't know. Mariah and Morgan help, but they're busy in the nursery with their children, and Lisette still stays to herself most of the day, or with Rian. Being locked up inside with women all the day long, without so much as being able to ride Athena or walk on the beach? It's very tiring. You're probably right, I should go to bed now."
"Callie?" he asked in that way he had, using that special tone of voice she'd never been able to deny. "I'll say it again. What should I know?"
He was standing so close to her, his hands on her shoulders, his broad chest looking to be such a comforting haven. She took a step forward and laid her cheek against his black silk shirt. "It's Odette, Court. She's sick."
He was silent for a few moments, and then slipped his arms fully around her, rested his chin lightly on her head. "How sick, Callie?"
She kept her face hidden from his. "Papa said not to tell anyone, and I didn't, not for a full week, and I won't tell anyone else. But it's so hard, Court. I can see it, now that Papa told me. She walks even slower than before, and she naps in the afternoon in Elly's chambers. And she…she keeps touching her stomach when she thinks no one is looking, and biting on her bottom lip, as if she's in…as if she's in some sort of pain. I hugged her yesterday, and I could feel it through all those heavy clothes she wears. I could feel her bones. I think she told Papa that she's dying."
Cassandra lifted her head, her eyes filled with tears as she looked up at Courtland. "What can I do? There has to be something I can do."
"I doubt that we can do anything, sweetheart, not unless Odette asks us for our help. She's a proud old woman, and if she wants us to believe she's all right, then that's what we'll have to do. Can you do that, Callie? Can you look at her, and not let her see?"
Cassandra sighed, nodded her head. "I would never do anything to hurt her. And you have to pretend you don't know anything, because Papa asked me not to tell anyone."
"I shouldn't admit to this, but I'm glad you didn't listen to him, and honored that you chose me to be the one person you did confide in," he said quietly, pushing her slightly away from him, but not letting her go. "So we're still friends?"
She blinked, twice, and then glared at him. "Friends? What on earth are you talking about, Courtland Becket?
Friends?
"
He smiled. "A bad choice of words, I suppose. But you have been avoiding me for a week, ever since the night we caught sight of Beales's ships in the Channel. Was that because of anything Sheila Whiting said to you?"
"I'm not sure," she told him truthfully. "I've…I've missed you." He seemed ready to speak, so she put her fingers against his mouth. "But I don't want to go back to where we were before that night, Court. I
can't
go back to where we were. And neither can you. Do you see that?"
He touched his hand to hers, kissed her fingertips and then lowered her hand from his face. "Tomorrow, Callie. I'll take you riding tomorrow. I think we both could benefit from a few hours away from Becket Hall. We can't go far, but we will go, I promise. Exercise your Athena, and perhaps blow a few cobwebs from both of our heads."
She relaxed her tense shoulders, not realizing she'd been holding her body so stiffly, not aware of the tension between them until, at last, it was gone. "Thank you, Court." She stepped up on tiptoe and daringly placed a quick kiss on his mouth. "Thank you so much."
But when she went to step away from him his arms closed more tightly around her and he lowered his face to hers, sealing their mouths together.
Cassandra closed her eyes as the strangest feeling rippled through her body, and then raised her arms to hold them around his neck as he showed her that the kiss she'd given him had been far from what a real kiss should be.
She felt the tip of his tongue against her lips as he seemed to want her mouth open, and she complied, because saying no to anything Court had ever wanted from her was beyond her power.
"Callie," he whispered against her lips, withdrawing slightly, and then taking her mouth so completely that she could only sigh, and hold on to him for dear life. This was where she wanted to be. In his arms. This was where she was destined to be. In his life.
Only the sound of footsteps descending the servant stairs served to break them apart, and Cassandra found it difficult to look at Courtland as she attempted to recapture her breath, for it would seem that she had been holding that breath for quite a while.
He moved her to one side and closed the door halfway, to block them from sight from the hallway, and then took her chin in his hand, tipped up her head.
"You'd better go directly to your chamber, Cassandra," he told her, touching a finger to the side of her chin.
"Why?" she asked him, feeling close to tears because of the look in his eyes as he gazed down at her. As if she were infinitely precious to him.
He smiled slightly. "It would seem my beard and your tender skin are at odds with each other," he said. "We'll go riding directly after breakfast, all right?"
She nodded. Nodding was all she could seem to muster, and she left the room, brushing past a frowning Sheila Whiting as she headed up the servant stairs, her face averted from Sheila's too-observant eyes.
CHAPTER NINE
COURTLAND HADN'T BEEN looking forward to entering the breakfast room, and he hadn't taken more than three steps into that room before he knew he'd been right to feel that reluctance.
"What ho! Who's this, a stranger in our midst? Stand just where you are, stranger, and identify yourself."
"Good morning, Spence," Courtland said, moving past him on his way to the heavily laden sideboard.
"Good morning, is it? And he even calls me by name. I say again, sir, who are you?"
Near the far end of the long table, her head lowered but her eyes raised so that she could peek through her lashes, Cassandra giggled.
"Oh, cut line, Spence," Rian said, taking his own seat, his plate fully loaded with eggs and slices of ham. "It's only our very own Courtland, his cheeks as smooth and pink as a baby's— "
"Rian Becket, mind your mouth," Lisette said, cutting him off, although Courtland was fairly certain his brother had meant to leave his observation dangling. After all, the joke was funny enough as it was, even if it was at his expense. "Court, I think you look very fine. Very handsome."
"Thank you, Lisette," Courtland said as he kept his back to the room, dishing coddled eggs onto his plate.
"You're welcome. And you'll look even more fine once the sun touches your skin and you, um, and you
even out?
"
Rian laughed so hard he choked on his bite of egg and had to take a drink before pointing out to his bride that her comment had been nearly as rude as his own, although he knew she was only attempting to be kind. "She just says whatever comes into her mind, Court. But she's right. A little sun on that face you've been hiding for so long will probably do wonders. Won't it, Callie?"
"Oh, no," Cassandra protested, getting to her feet, carrying her dirty plate over to the small side table, placing it with others ready to be returned to the kitchens. With half of Becket Village gone, and the other half spending long hours on watches and patrols, everyone had to do their own fetching and carrying, while thanking their lucky stars that Bumble had agreed to stay in the kitchens, preparing meals for everyone. "You won't drag me into this. Court? I have to go check in on Elly and Odette. Shall we meet at the stables?"
