Helen Dickson (11 page)

‘You will not escape without retribution,’ he went on, ‘and it would be the sweeter by my own hand. However, the methods you use for disposing of those who get in your way are not mine, and, since I cannot kill you honourably, I shall have to learn to let you live—for now. I am first and foremost the king’s servant. I want to see you stand trial and you will not cheat the hangman of your neck. But if the men who judge you do not send you to your death, then I swear that I will kill you—if I die in the attempt. I promise you that you will suffer the ultimate penalty for your crime—and when you do you will ask yourself if it was worth it.’

‘Oh, but it was. You see, I made a princely sum out of the cargo. As a matter of interest, Mawgan, where have you been hiding yourself these two years past?’

Lucas thrust his face close. ‘La Force, Carlyle. There are few who have not heard of it.’

Edward’s eyes widened. The disclosure obviously caused him considerable surprise that was not without some amusement. ‘Good God! And you survived!’ Suddenly he recalled the previous night’s incident he had witnessed on this very spot and he frowned, eyeing him sceptically. ‘Just when did you return to Roslyn?’

‘Not that it’s any of your concern—but two weeks ago, to be precise.’

Edward was about to call him a liar, when something stirred in his memory and a kaleidoscope of images paraded across his mind—a tall man with a pistol levelled at his chest, his face half concealed by a handkerchief, a pair of glittering grey eyes. In the space of five seconds all these images collided, causing his body to stiffen in fury. ‘It was
you that night, wasn’t it? That damned highwayman was you!’

Lucas’s lips curled in derision. ‘I wondered how long it would take you to work it out,’ he confirmed.

‘I’m damned if I can understand the reason behind such a ridiculous act—sneaking around and disturbing the peace, robbing people of their belongings.’

‘I advise you not to try,’ Lucas replied drily. ‘It was a ruse, and it had the desired effect.’

Full realisation dawned on Edward. Mawgan had been playing a game of cat and mouse with him, and he’d exposed his identity to Laura when he’d taken her off into the trees. Little wonder she’d been in such a hurry to break off her betrothal to him. As he realised how easily he had been duped by the pair of them the anger on his face yielded beneath the onslaught of pure rage, and his pride ached for revenge.

‘The bitch. The deceitful bitch. She knew, didn’t she?’

‘Have a care when you speak of my wife,’ Lucas warned coldly. ‘Laura did know—but not before that night. I can see how my alleged demise brought you your opportunity—and how you set about seducing my wife in order to get your hands on my property. You were dealing in contraband in a small way then, and by removing me you became more ambitious. And now I am told how rich you are, and a respected man about town when in London.’

‘My financial affairs are my own, Mawgan. Why didn’t you make your presence known when you first came back to Roslyn? Why this ridiculous charade?’

Lucas’s glance as it swept his face was one of loathing contempt. ‘Charade? Be assured, it was no charade. I had my reasons. You’re good at impressing people, aren’t you, Carlyle—people who don’t know what a complete bastard you are? Little do they know that beneath your fine clothes and affectations you are in possession of a ruthlessness and cruelty which stops at nothing, that you have a mind devoid
of tolerance, a heart rotten with envy, and that you are motivated by a determination to possess or destroy what you cannot possess. In short, you are a villain, who uses corruption to gain power, power that in turn corrupts. But do not forget that you are not beyond the reach of the law.’

Despite the noise of the wind, Lucas had spoken quietly, too quietly for Edward’s comfort, and there was expression in those cold, pale eyes assessing him of pure, undiluted hatred.

‘Go to hell, Mawgan,’ he bit back, with apparent righteous indignation. ‘There are few who are not involved in the trade this side of the Tamar. They either buy it, sell it, or drink it—respectable ministers of the church, doctors, lawyers and, oh, yes, even magistrates and excise men. You name them. They all look the other way for a drop of fine French brandy or a bolt of silk or lace for their ladies.’ His eyes narrowed, glittering, as a somewhat amusing thought occurred to him. ‘Perhaps you’d like a drop for yourself. Why don’t we strike up a bargain?’

Lucas’s grey eyes gleamed with cold loathing, and as he set his teeth the muscles of his jaw flexed. ‘Forget it. You will not find me as easy to handle as some in authority hereabouts, who show complete impartiality to the illicit trade in smuggled goods. I cannot be bribed with expensive contraband brandy. You have used the cove for the last time. If you cross my land again I will charge you with trespassing. I will not have the likes of you anywhere near my home. Don’t ever darken my door again.’

Edward blanched. Despite all his efforts, things were going swiftly awry. Now, with Mawgan back from the dead and free to wreak his vengeance for what he had done to him, he would have to tread warily. But already a plan was forming in his mind. The sooner he was rid of this tiresome neighbour the better. And the next time he wouldn’t fail.

‘Don’t rejoice too soon,’ he said scathingly. ‘Your guard
will slip at some point, and when it does look to yourself. Underestimate me at your peril.’

‘If you mean you intend to kill me, Carlyle, don’t count on it,’ Lucas answered with a sneer. ‘I am the sort that clings to life, as you should know.’ Having no desire to remain in Carlyle’s company any longer, Lucas turned, but, thinking of Laura and that Carlyle might continue to pursue her, he looked back. ‘I meant what I said. If you go anywhere near my wife, I will kill you.’

‘I’m not afraid of your threats.’

‘I make no threats, only promises.’

Edward’s brows lifted imperturbably. ‘I’m surprised how eager you are to have her back. I’m certain you will consider the relationship between us went well beyond the line of acceptability and may cause you some embarrassment. Your wife and I became close—very close, you might say,’ he said, his eyes gloating.

His face darkening, something snapped inside Lucas, shattering his emotions from all rational control. He was seething. It was not Laura’s betrothal to Carlyle that made him the angriest, it was—if Carlyle was to be believed—the fact that he had been on the most intimate terms of friendship with her, that they had shared more than a kiss. All his earlier doubts about the nature of their relationship were reawakened with good effect. A murderous look entered his eyes, and his jaw hardened.

‘What did you say?’ he asked, in a tone that had suddenly turned ominous.

Edward’s smile was pure evil. He was satisfied that Lucas had read into his words exactly what he’d meant, even though there was no truth in them. ‘I said that Laura is hardly the chaste little puritan that you married. She soon regained her high spirits following your alleged demise, and was to be seen at all the social gatherings on the arm of one gentleman or another. She became the talk of the
county, in fact. It wasn’t long before she began receiving offers of marriage—three, I believe, discounting my own.’

‘Are you telling me that you and my wife were lovers?’

Edward shrugged. ‘Whether it’s true or not hardly matters now. She thought you were dead. We all did.’

Lucas stepped closer, a compelling steeliness in his eyes. ‘I am undeceived by your base attempt to slander my wife. There is no credit to your assertions. In other words, Carlyle, you are lying.’

‘Lying, am I? Well—you’ll never know how unchaste your precious little wife has been in your absence. Will you? If you ask her she is hardly likely to confess to it now, is she?’ Edward smirked, triumph lighting his eyes and showing in every line of his body—triumph and satisfied vengeance. ‘If she denies it you will doubt her word—no matter how hard you try not to. Why, thinking of her with me will, in all probability, drive you mad.’

Edward laughed, a laugh full of contempt and mocking cruelty, a laugh that was peculiarly his own, and when he spoke again his voice was low and intense, excitement in the straining cords of his throat and the bright glitter in his eyes as he leaned slightly forward. ‘Good day to you, Mawgan. I wish you and your wife joy in each other.’

Lucas watched him stride across the sands to his horse, before heading off with ground-devouring strides in the opposite direction towards the manor. He knew the power of evil that inhabited the man and the deadly, consuming hatred Carlyle felt for him, a hatred which would surely grow now that the man knew he was alive.

Unfortunately Lucas turned away too soon, for instead of leaving the cove, curious as to how the master of Roslyn Manor had managed to suddenly appear on the beach without being observed, Edward turned and looked towards the gaping mouth of the cave with a frown. It had come in useful many times for the storing of contraband. He knew
every one of the chambers set deep inside the cliff, every turn and every crevice—or so he thought.

All the years he had been growing up he had paid scant attention to the local tales that a tunnel existed connecting the underground chambers to Roslyn Manor. Was it possible that there was some truth in them, after all? Some said the tunnel had been hewn out of the rock during the middle of the seventeenth century, when England had been riven in two by king and parliament. The Mawgans’ loyalties had remained with King Charles I, and when their cause was lost the tunnel and the caves had been used to hide Royalists fleeing from persecution, to await the vessels that came to carry them across the Channel to France. Others said the tunnel had existed for many centuries before that, but as far as Edward knew no one had ever seen it.

Deciding to take a closer look, he calmly moved towards the opening and disappeared inside.

Carlyle’s vitriolic insinuations and the dark shadow of that part of Laura’s life at the manor without him, which he knew nothing about, concerned Lucas more than he cared to admit. His heart twisted in agony at the image of her lying in Carlyle’s arms.

In angry frustration he turned his mind from his tortured imaginings and tried concentrating on the joy of her instead, of how ravishing she had looked in her blue velvet gown on the night he had revealed himself to her, how it had felt when she had come looking for him at the mine and he’d held her in his arms—remembering how soft and supple her flesh was—and kissed her soft, inviting lips, and fought the impulse to lay her on the grass and make love to her there and then.

Laura was a natural temptress with the smile of an angel, and an unspoiled charm that made him smile whenever he thought of her. She was warm, provocative and alluring. Many women had shared his bed, but none had come close
to stealing his heart, and with the wisdom born of years of experience with the female sex he knew he was about to succumb to that affliction that many of his friends had fallen prey to in the past.

Head bowed, as he climbed the cliff path he was determined not to let Carlyle’s words sour the close relationship he was eager to develop between them, but it was no easy matter, for the first seeds of suspicion had been sown.

When he reached level ground he looked up, surprised to find Laura waiting for him. His black brows beetling together, he looked at her intently, taking in every detail of her face. She was still, her expression frozen as her eyes studied his features. Pain and anger wrenched his heart at the thought of Carlyle having touched her.

‘Laura! What are you doing here? I told you to go back to the house,’ he said, more harshly than he intended.

‘You did, but I thought I’d wait for you.’ Laura met her husband’s cold stare. The harsh look on his face emphasised the tightness at the corners of his firm mouth, and she wondered what Edward could have said to make him look like that. ‘What is wrong, Lucas?’ she asked, moving towards him.

Beyond a slight shrug, Lucas made no answer to this but continued to walk on, his attention fixed on the manor, as if to find there the answer to the problem that made his fine-drawn face look sterner than ever and brought that dark, brooding look into his eyes.

To Laura, his silence became unbearable and insulting. Never one to tolerate for long inexplicable moods in others, exasperated, she fell into step beside him, having to hurry to keep up with his long strides. ‘Why are you so angry with me? What did you and Edward talk about?’

Lucas came to an abrupt stop and fixed her with a penetrating gaze, losing no more time in satisfying her curiosity. ‘Among other things, you. Before I reacquaint myself
with my neighbours, I want an exact account of what you have been doing in my absence.’

The curtness in his voice stung Laura, and caused her heart to contract. ‘I—cannot imagine what you want to know,’ she said hesitantly, quite bewildered.

‘No? Allow me to refresh your memory. Carlyle implied that when you returned to Roslyn after my alleged demise, you became the talk of the county. If he is to be believed, then I can only assume that your conduct was reprehensible, that you hadn’t an ounce of sense or propriety, and that your behaviour was an embarrassment to me.’

Breathing heavily, he paused for a moment to reflect on what John had told him when he had returned to Roslyn, about how Laura had cared for the estate and its people in his absence and was above reproach. Lucas had come close to believing him but he was so jealous that he was unable to stop himself uttering the accusations. His eyes narrowed, glittering dangerously. ‘When I gave you my name I expected you to repay me by at least showing some respect for that name.’

The unfairness of his words brought a gasp to Laura’s lips. ‘I never failed to respect it—but I suppose if I hadn’t, the name I bear does not permit an offence to go unpunished,’ she bit back, bristling with indignation at his harsh tone.

Lucas’s eyes locked on hers mercilessly. ‘You’re right. It doesn’t. Carlyle also implied that you and he were lovers. Is this true?’ he asked with infuriating calm.

Laura stared at him in stunned disbelief. Anger welled up suddenly in her heart, changing her face from crimson to white, and bringing a sparkle to her eyes. Desperate with anxiety that her husband and Edward might come to blows, she had waited for him, and all he could offer were questions about her relationship with Edward. In a blinding flash of sick humiliation, she realised that he might believe Edward. ‘And that is what you think?’