Taken by Storm (35 page)

She turned to leave.

“No, Ariadne!” Abandoning his place by the hearth, he rushed across the room, seized her elbow, and forced her into a chair. She fought him, struggling angrily, until his intent gray gaze was inches from her own.

“Unhand me this instant, Tristan, or so help me God I’ll scr—”

“Colin Lord is hiding in the stable, waiting for you,” he hissed, desperately, in her ear.

Instantly, she froze and fell silent. Her body all but sank into the depths of the chair, where she sat with bent head and hands folded demurely in her lap. She squeezed them to stop their sudden shaking. She could not speak.

“Maxwell tried to have him murdered,” Tristan whispered, just above her ear. “Luckily for your animal doctor, I happened to come along at the right time.”

“Oh my God, I must go to him—”

“He’s
fine
,” Tristan said tightly, restraining her. “A bit sore, but otherwise quite well. Ariadne, I . . . I did something you must know about.”

He told her about the match race.

“For God’s sake, Tristan, how
could
you?” she cried angrily. And then she saw his stricken eyes and knew that despite everything, and all that had happened, he was still too young to know any different, still too young to weigh the risks, and still . . .

Her brother.

Her brother, who had also, in many ways, been ignored by a benevolent but largely absent father who cared more for horses than he did his own children, and whose neglect had caused Tristan to resort to plenty of “bad behavior” of his own.

“Oh, Tristan—”

The two siblings rushed into each other’s arms, sobbing with relief, despair, and grief for all that they had so recently lost.

And all that they still had left to lose.

# # #

Tristan discreetly left her at the entrance to the stable, and picking up her skirts, Ariadne ran past the box containing Black Patrick, past the demure and elegant Gazella, past the stall where Thunder—never looking more sad and deplorable than he did in contrast to a stable containing some of the finest horses in England—quietly munched his hay, and straight toward the big box where her stallion resided.

Shareb-er-rehh—staring lustfully at Gazella—saw her coming. He pricked his ears and then, walking forward, thrust his muzzle over the partition, his forelock falling over his eyes as he whickered in welcome.

But Ariadne brushed past him and the two dogs and threw herself into the animal doctor’s arms.

“Oh, Colin . . . I’m so frightened, Tristan told me what Maxwell tried to do to you, and now he’s got this match race planned and I want nothing more than to leave here and to do so straightaway, because all I keep seeing is you lying hurt on the floor and reliving that awful moment all over again and oh, please, please tell me you’re alright? I’ve been worried sick—”

But he was grasping her by the shoulders and setting her back and away from him, looking like someone had just dealt him a stunning blow. “My God, Ariadne. . . .”

Confused, she came up short. “What?”

And then she saw the direction of his gaze. He was staring at her, speechless and awestruck. His throat worked, and almost reverently, he reached out to touch her coiffed, upswept hair and the bodice of her gown, to trail his fingers down her sleeve.

Then his gaze lifted to regard hers.

“I have never seen such exquisite beauty in all of my life,” he murmured, hoarsely.

Heat swept into her cheeks. “Surely, it’s not as if you’ve never seen a lady in a gown before.”

“No, dearest, I have never seen
this
lady in a gown before. I am totally undone. Overcome.”

“Oh, Colin—” she gave a pained little smile. “Are you certain you’re alright?”

“Yes, thanks to your brother. I owe him my life.”

She went back into his arms, and rested her head against his chest, feeling his arms closing about her with fierce protectiveness and holding her tight. Tears rose in her eyes and she blinked them back, thinking of how close she’d come to losing this man who loved her so much that he’d scaled the side of a house for her—and did it with a bad leg. “I can’t imagine what my father was thinking, pledging me to someone so evil,” she murmured, sniffling. “Tristan said he had Father fooled, that Father didn’t know how terrible Maxwell really is, and that all Maxwell ever wanted was to get his hands on the Norfolk Thoroughbreds and I was the only way he could get to them.” She reached up and laid her hand against his cheek. “Are you sure you’re alright, Colin?”

“I am. And as much as I relish the sight of you, you cannot stay here, Ariadne. It is too dangerous.”

“No, I’m
not
leaving,” she declared, pulling back. “Besides, Tristan is standing guard just outside, and will cough if anyone comes. Oh, please don’t tell me you are actually sleeping out here—”

“I have to. I don’t trust Maxwell, Ariadne. Not with the race coming up. God only knows what he’ll do.”

“Do you think he might sabotage the race? Even harm Shareb?”

“I wouldn’t put it past him, my dear. You and your brother have too much riding on the outcome of this race, and I’d hate like hell to see that stallion end up in Maxwell’s hands—or worse, see anything happen to either of you.” He took her hand, enfolding it within his own. Then, poking his head out of the stall to be sure the way was clear, he hurried her out of the box, and toward the stairs that led up to the loft.

Ariadne followed eagerly, mindful of her skirts. A beam of sunlight, adrift with dust swirls, slanted through a window. Colin gained the loft first and kneeling in the hay, reached down to pull her up. Stifling a giggle, she went into his arms, clinging to his solid, comforting warmth before he picked her up and carried her through the whispery hay to a far corner. There he set her on her feet, and pulling her close, kissed her long and hard.

She melted against him, never so relieved and happy to see anyone in her life. Just being near him made all the fear and anguish of the past days go away, and she wearily gave herself up to him and his solid, comforting strength. His hands came up to cradle her cheeks, then one drifted down to graze her neck, her bodice, her stomach, as though to reassure himself that she was truly well and unharmed. She felt the fire starting within her, as it always did at his touch, and she broke the kiss to gaze at his beloved face.

To think that Maxwell had tried to have him killed . . .

Dear, gentle Colin, who had dedicated his life to saving God’s creatures from pain and illness—

Her eyes filled with hot tears, and his face suddenly went blurry behind them.

“Ah, sweetheart . . .”

His arms went around her, holding her close and cupping her head against the inside of his shoulder. Choking sobs bubbled out of her throat, were muffled against his heartbeat. Her tears soaked his shirt, dampening the warm, hay-scented skin just beneath, and she fisted her hands in the fabric beneath her cheek. How close she had come to losing him, and how much peril they were all still in.

And then she remembered Maxwell’s revelation.

Managing to get her tears under control, she pulled back, even as Colin pulled the tail of his shirt free and gently dried her eyes. She stared up at into his handsome face, the beautiful, soul-deep eyes that were filled with love and tenderness as he went about this humble task.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.

He stared at her, uncomprehending. “Tell you what?”

“About your former career . . .
Captain
Lord.”

His flinched, and his hand, just beneath her eye with the shirttail bunched in it, froze. He stared at her as though she had struck him, then began to lower his hand.

She caught it, unwilling to let it go.

He looked away.

“So . . . you know.”

“Yes,” she replied, steadily. “Maxwell told me.”

“Everything?”

“Everything.”

He gave a great sigh, and sat down in the hay, looking defeated and broken. “I told you you wouldn’t want me if you only knew what I’d done.”

She sat down beside him, arranging her skirts in such a manner that her bare ankles showed temptingly. “Colin Lord, you are one of the most intelligent men I have ever met, but sometimes you really
are
a thick-headed dolt.”

His gaze had been on her ankles. He looked at her, confused. “What do you mean?”

“How can you believe that I would think any less of you for what you did?”

“I disobeyed my admiral.” He looked down, picked up a piece of straw, began to tie it up in a series of little knots. “Because of me, we lost two ships that night, Ariadne. Not just one.”

“You disobeyed him because you were trying to save his life, and that of every man aboard that frigate.”

She sidled closer to him, put her hand beneath his chin, and forced him to look at her. His eyes were full of pain and anguish. “Maxwell told me about it,” she said. “And fiend that he is, did so with all the triumphant malice in his black heart. But it did not have the intended effect on me, Colin, because I love you all the more for what you tried to do—”

“The wind was too strong,” he murmured, looking down at the piece of straw he still held. “Sir Graham—he was my admiral, and I was his flag captain, the man whose ship he had chosen to carry his flag, the man who was, in his absence, second in command of the entire fleet—had gone aboard one of our frigates to dine with its captain. The hour was late, and there was no moon. We were in the Caribbean, and there was nothing, nothing at all, to signal that a squall was bearing down on us. Suddenly and without warning, we were hit with winds that came out of nowhere, and before we knew it, we were on a lee shore in the dark of night, with the frigate closest to the peril.” He paused, his eyes haunted. “Sir Graham ordered me to save the flagship, to just get out of there while I still could, and leave the frigate to dash itself against the rocks. He
knew
the wind was too strong, that in trying to save him and the frigate, I’d imperil my own vessel, my own people, as well. But I couldn’t do it, Ariadne.” He looked up at her, his eyes anguished. “He was my admiral. My friend, my superior, the man who wouldn’t let the surgeon take off my leg after I was hit during the height of battle. He was the finest commander I ever served under. . . . ”

She put her arms around him, laid her cheek against his shoulder.

“The frigate was doomed, try as I did to save it. And God help me I tried, though Sir Graham was bellowing at the top of his lungs for me to leave off—but I deliberately disobeyed him, deliberately ignored him, and ordered my crew to anchor, and rig a tow rope between the two ships to try and help the frigate to claw off—” He put his hands over his eyes, trying to shut out the horrible memory. “The wind was too strong, Ariadne . . . just too damned strong. . . .”

“Oh, Colin. . . .”

“The anchors began to drag, and the tow line broke. It
broke
. After that—after that it was too late to save either ship. It was a disaster of unimaginable proportions. A ship, no matter how large and strong, no matter how mighty, has no chance against rocks on a lee shore. Some of our crew were able to claw their way through the surf and make it to shore, but many men drowned that night. Had I obeyed Sir Graham’s order perhaps not so many would have been lost.” He raised his head and looked at her then, and although sorrow was etched in every line of his face, his eyes were almost fierce. “But I swear to you, Ariadne, that if I could go back and face that same decision all over again, I would not have done any different.
I would not have abandoned my admiral.
”

No, he would not have, this man who, despite a bad leg, had scaled the side of a house in order to save her when everyone else in her life had left her to her own devices. He had not abandoned her, and loyal as she knew him to be, he would not have abandoned his admiral.

“But he abandoned
you
, Colin” she said softly, feeling a sudden, unreasonable hatred for this unknown officer who had done nothing to save the career of the man who had tried to save
him
.

“No. He didn’t, Ariadne. He was Nelson’s own protégée, the brightest star in the Royal Navy, and angry as he was with me for what I’d done, he was right by my side throughout the entire court-martial. If anyone could have saved me from ruin, or my family from the shame and disgrace they suffered because of the whole affair, it was Sir Graham. And God help him, he tried.” He tossed the piece of straw aside and looked bleakly at the beam of sunlight slanting over the hay. “But nothing he could say in my defense made a damned bit of difference. The fact of the matter was, I disobeyed my admiral and in so doing, was responsible for the loss of many fine men. In so doing, I cost the Navy one of its finest, most expensive, warships. An eighty-gun
flagship
.”

She squeezed his hand.

“Afterwards, I had little money with which to support myself. I was too proud to ask my father for help, and though he didn’t say as much, I knew his shame . . . he was an admiral himself, from a proud family with a long naval tradition that I had been expected to uphold; I couldn’t disgrace him further. And so I found myself in London, and one day, when I came across a horse being beaten by a cab driver, I intervened.” He gave a sad smile. “It was rather like what happened with Thunder, I guess . . . only this horse’s name was Ned. Something happened, then—I have always shared a rather unusual bond with animals, but when that horse looked up at me, I knew, I just
knew
what my calling was, and what I had to do to atone for all the lives I had destroyed, not only in disobeying my admiral, but in the name of war.” He looked at her, unashamed of the path his life had taken. “I couldn’t ask you to marry me, Ariadne, until I’d told you about my past. And I was so afraid that if I did, you’d no longer want me. No longer respect me. That you’d pity me—”

“I love you, Colin,” she said, touching his lips.

“I do not move in the same circles that you do, Ariadne, not anymore, and soon enough you will tire of me—”

“Colin.”

“And what of your future, you do know that marrying a veterinarian will probably get you ostracized from polite society, that you will be an outcast just like me, and here I can’t even earn enough money in my profession to keep you in gowns half as beautiful as this one—”