Stranger in My Arms(69)

“Oh, the lad who has me must have pockets of gold, A horse and carriage, and a silver watch too And well for him if he’s handsome and bold, With curly brown hair and eyes so blue…”

The song went on extravagantly extolling the virtues of the imaginary lad, until every woman in the kitchen was chuckling. “As if a man like that could be found in Market Hill!” the cook exclaimed.

Amid the general amusement, Naomi slipped into the room, the skirt of her walking dress dusty from the walk to the village. She came to Lara at once, removing a straw bonnet to reveal a troubled frown.

“Naomi,” Lara said, pausing in her work. “It’s your day off-I thought you were going to spend the day in the village with friends.”

“I had to come back at once, milady,” Naomi murmured, while the others continued to sing and chatter. “I don’t know what to believe, or if there’s a bit of truth in it, but… I heard something in the village.”

Lara set aside the pestle and stared questioningly at the maid.

“‘Tis about Lady Lonsdale,” Naomi continued.

“I’m friends with her lady’s maid, Betty, you see, and we fell to talking…” Clearly uncomfortable, Naomi took a deep breath and finished quickly.

“And-Betty-said-‘twas-a-secret-but-Lady-Lonsdale-is-ill.”

Aware that the others were listening, Lara pulled the maid to the corner of the kitchen and whispered rapidly. “I’ll? But that couldn’t be… Why wouldn’t I have been told?”

“Betty says the family doesn’t want anyone to know.”

“How ill?” Lara asked urgently. “Naomi, did Rachel’s maid tell you…

did Lonsdale do my sister some violence?”

The maid’s eyes lowered. “‘Twas a fall down the stairs, Lady Lonsdale said. Betty wasn’t there to see it, but she says it looks worse than a simple fall. She says Lady Lonsdale is in a bad way, and they haven’t even sent for the doctor.”

Horror, turmoil, and most of all rage… Lara trembled from a torrent of emotions. Lonsdale had beaten Rachel again. She was certain of it.

And as with the other times, he had been remorseful afterward-and too ashamed to send for a doctor when Rachel needed medical attention.

Lara’s mind clicked with plans… She had to reach Rachel, take her from Lonsdale, bring her to a safe place, make her well.

“Milady,” the maid said tentatively, “please don’t tell anyone as how you found out. I wouldn’t want Betty dismissed on account of this.”

“Of course I won’t,” Lara replied, somewhat amazed by her own calmness when all was chaos inside. “Thank you, Naomi. You did well to tell me.”

“Yes, milady.” Seeming relieved, Naomi gathered her bonnet and left the kitchen.

Not looking at the cook and kitchen maids, who had begun to whisper, Lara wandered in a daze until she found herself in the gentlemen’s room. The walls were covered with an assortment of stuffed and mounted game Hunter and his father had shot. Eerily shining glass eyes were set in somber animal faces.

The aura of smug masculine victoriousness, bred through generations of Hawksworths, seemed to fill the room.

Springing into action, Lara went to the cabinets beside the long row of gun cases and opened them furtively, finding bags of shot, cleaning implements, powder horns, and mahogany boxes of pistols cushioned in velvet.

Pistols with handles of pearl, wood, silver… carved, engraved, adorned as lavishly as religious artifacts.

Lara had never actually fired a pistol before, but she had seen Hunter and other men of her acquaintance with them.

The loading and operation of them seemed simple enough. Fueled by rage that worsened with each passing minute, she hardly noticed that someone had entered the room until Hunter spoke.

Having returned from an inspection of new fence that had been built on the estate, Hunter was dressed in riding clothes. “Is there going to be a duel?” he asked lightly, coming forward to remove a pistol from her unsteady grasp. “If you’re going to kill someone, I insist on knowing in advance.”

Lara resisted him, hugging the weapon against her midriff. “Yes,” she said, her anguished fury breaking forth as she stared into his taut face. Tears spilled from her eyes. “Yes… I’m going to kill your friend Lonsdale. He’s done it to Rachel again, again … I don’t know what condition she’s in, but I intend to take her away from that place. I should have done it long ago! I only hope Lonsdale is there when I arrive, so I can put a bullet in his heart-” “Hush.” Hunter’s large hand closed around the pistol and he took it from her, setting it on a side table with care. He turned back to Lara, his alert gaze raking over her tearful face. Somehow the solid reality of his presence eased her panic. He folded her in his arms, anchoring her against his chest, murmuring quietly into her hair.

Sniffling, Lara reached inside his waistcoat until her palm rested over the steady beat of his heart. The sensation of his warm breath sinking down to her scalp made her quiver. It was so terribly intimate, crying in his arms… even more personal than making love. She hated feeling so helpless. But he had never felt so much like a husband to her as he did in this moment. Quieting, she inhaled his familiar scent and let out a shaking sigh.

Hunter located a handkerchief and wiped her sodden face. “All right,” he said gently, blotting her nose. “Tell me what happened.”