Flight of the Hawk, page 21
“She was just a fuck. A good one, but just a fuck. How is it you can let a slave come between your brother and you? That you would take her side over mine?”
Trace longed to reach through the space in the door and choke his brother until air no longer flowed, but he didn’t.
“She is not a slave. She is the woman I love and if this barrier were not between us, I would show you how fucking much I will always take her side over yours—or David’s, before he got himself killed.”
“Not this angry about your white wife. What does that say about you?”
“That I do not give a fuck about a cheater and someone who would try to kill me.” Steven inched closer. “Tell me something, do you ever wonder if he is your son?”
“The brat Bethany popped out? Hell no. I will admit to fucking her, hell, even enjoying it because bitch is a sex fiend—loved me fucking her ass and having more than one dick in her at once—and plotting against you with her, but that brat? No way, he’s not mine.” Steven’s face morphed into evilness personified. “You have no clue, do you?” The laughter wasn’t kind.
“No clue about what?”
“Your supposed brat.” He inched closer. “If I gave a damn about you, I might think of telling you, but as I do not… Keep wondering. If he’s not my seed, and he’s not yours, who else’s could he be?”
“Why?” Trace asked the question he’d sworn to himself he wasn’t going to ask. “Why Steven?”
The reason he’d told himself over and over on the boat ride, and even this morning, was that Steven’s actions back then hadn’t mattered, nor had they when he’d plotted to have Trace killed and taken his name. Yet, somehow, the youngest brother who had always wanted to be accepted by his older siblings pushed the question free. It made its way by the man Trace had become. The soldier. The father.
“Is that why you came all this way? To wonder why I hate you so much? Or is the why asking why we did what we did? Not that there is a difference really.”
“Be a decent brother for once in your life, Steven, and tell me what I want to know.” His throat hurt from forcing himself to maintain a calm tone.
“Is that all you want?”
“That is all you have that I want.”
The man leered at him. “Fine, just know that when this is over and your little slave bitch comes back to the island, I am going to fuck her right in front of you before I kill her.”
“You will never have the chance to touch her.” He clenched his fists and narrowed his eyes, wishing again that there wasn’t this door between them and that he could return the favor of all the beatings he’d gotten as a boy from this one who had been supposed to protect him.
“The sad part is you actually believe that. See you when you wake.”
That was his only warning before something heavy hit him in the temple, sending him crumpling to the floor, his brother’s evil cackle echoing in his ears.
Chapter Twenty-One
Leona wrapped her arm around her waist as she stood outside and allowed the crisp wind to flow around her. The days had been nicer and more spring like, but today had teetered closer to wintery weather. It didn’t matter. She enjoyed being out in the fresh air.
Her dogs ran and played without seeming to understand the turmoil swirling within her. Bottom line—she missed Trace. She also missed his son, who still currently stayed with the St. Martins at Heartstone.
She and Jackson had returned to her cottage. The additions had been completed and her work had picked up once more, so it wasn’t like she didn’t have things to do and to occupy her mind. None of that mattered when night came and she lay in bed thinking about the man she wanted more than her next breath.
Worried for him, and worried about Bethany who was running around somewhere, she tried not to think much about it. Failed in exceptional fashion, but she tried.
“Lass, come back inside.”
With a smile for Jackson, she whistled for her dogs and did as he’d bade. Closing the door behind her, she shrugged out of her wrap as she watched him pace in front of the fireplace.
“Everything okay, Jackson?”
“You have been sequestering yourself away ever since that man jumped on a ship and left. I’ll nae have it anymore.”
She got he was angry because his accent leaked through. Shaking her head, she said, “I have been working. I have a lot of requested commissions I have to finish.”
“Sequestering.”
“Working.”
“You turned down three invitations from Lady Heartstone to come for a visit.”
Because going there would mean seeing Falcon. Which would only intensify her thoughts of his father.
“I do not get work done if I am spending my days traveling in a carriage, Jackson.”
“Stop lying to us both, lass. We both know the reason, and it’s not healthy. I knew he was not good for you.”
“Is that what this is about? Because you do not approve of him?”
“Of course it is,” he roared. “That man and his family treated you worse than animals.”
“There is no reason to remind me how I was treated there. But that was his father. Trace has never been anything but good to me.”
“That man, lass, is going to be nothing but more pain for you. Your mother knew this and hoped you would come to understand this as a fact of life. But no, all I see is her crying because you are still holding onto some childhood fantasy that this man is the one for you.”
“Why are you saying this?”
He raked a hand through his salt and pepper hair. “Because it’s killing me to hear you cry yourself to sleep every goddamn night. Hoping and praying that he will come back to you.”
Tears sprang to Leona’s eyes and she swallowed hard, not wanting them to fall.
“If you feel this way, perhaps you should move out. This way you won’t have to hear me and you can be disappointed in me with the memory of my mother.”
“I only want to look out for you.”
“You want me to marry a man who is scared of you and that will not go against you. I do not need your protection. How about this. You stay here and I will go and visit Lady Heartstone. I think we could do with some time apart. I will leave right away.”
Spinning around, she walked away, the tears sliding free and dampening her cheeks.
“Leona, lass. Talk to me.”
She didn’t stop. There was nothing more for her to say.
Despite the fight, Jackson still had the carriage ready for her and the dogs. The tiger hopped down and secured her trunk before helping her in. The dogs jumped up and lay down. Without saying anything to Jackson, she leaned back against the seat and waited for them to depart.
* * * *
The entire trip she alternated between dozing and going over what Jackson had said. The words didn’t sting any less each time she revisited them.
When Heartstone came into view, she watched the sprawling home grow larger the closer they came. This wasn’t her life, she didn’t belong in a place like this.
After being helped down, she walked in and smiled as Keely came running toward her.
“Auntie Lea! You came to visit me.”
Leona sank to her knees and hugged the girl, feeling a sense of home when those arms tightened around her. Maybe I do belong here.
“I missed you,” she said, pulling back and touching Keely on the nose. “How have you been?”
“I am growing, the boys are mean, and I do not want to be the baby anymore.”
“That is a lot going on for you.” She pushed to her feet, heart softening as Keely wrapped their hands together.
“I know, it’s a lot for a little girl.”
She tried not to laugh. Bryn and Falcon appeared on the steps behind the footmen that had come to carry her bags up.
“Gentlemen,” she said with a nod.
Both boys gave her a bow and Keely let go of her hand to run up toward them. “I told her how you were mean to me.”
They shared a look and shrugged before waving in her direction and scampering down the stairs, leaving Keely behind.
The marchioness entered the front room. “Leona.”
The smile came so easily this time. She curtsied. “Lady Heartstone.”
Ciara walked up to her and hugged her. “I think you enjoy reminding me of my title.”
“I am giving you the respect you deserve.” Leona hugged her once more before stepping back. “How are you?”
“Grateful you finally decided to accept my invitation. I was almost to the point of coming out there to drag you back.” Her whiskey eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
Leona’s chin wobbled as she shook her head. “I will okay. Just a row with Jackson.”
Ciara slid her arm through Leona’s. “Men. I am guessing this had to do with Trace?”
She squeezed her eyes together once more. “Yes.” With a sniff, she lifted her chin. “I will be fine.”
“We’ll talk later. Right now, I want you to meet someone. A friend of Lucien’s.” She directed them toward the receiving room. “He just got here about an hour ago.”
Allowing herself to be led, Leona composed her features right before they moved into the room. Seated in two chairs, drinks in hand, sat Lucien and his friend.
When the women walked in, both men rose as one. Lucien smiled as he looked at his wife, then turned his smile, less powerful, to Leona. The other man was as tall as Lucien, his sandy brown hair cut in the latest style. He had no facial hair and his eyes were gray, arresting.
“Leona,” Lucien said, “this is Phillip Vallence, Earl of Edais.”
The man came to her and bent over her hand, brushing his lips along the back. “My lady.”
She blushed and ducked her head. Definite flirt. “I am not a lady, just Leona.”
“It is an honor to meet you.”
He smiled and winked before stepping back under the extremely watchful eye of one Lucien St. Martin, the Marquess of Heartstone.
Ciara took her arm once more. “We are going to the sitting room to talk. We will see you gentlemen at the midday meal.”
They went to walk out when Leona heard, “Princess.”
She turned back when Ciara did. Lucien said nothing but his wife as he strode toward her, tipped up her chin with two fingers and kissed her. He slid an arm around her back, bringing them flush to each other.
Leona glanced away and found Phillip’s amused gaze on her.
“They always make me feel as if I am intruding.” He shrugged easily.
“You are,” Lucien said, releasing his wife. “Remind me again why I keep you around?”
“We are such good friends,” Phillip replied without any heat.
Lucien grunted. “We may have to revisit this.”
“Come along, Leona. They get this way, and it can be hours before they stop.” Together they went to the sitting room. Not much later, there was hot cocoa and sandwiches before them for a snack.
“Who is he?”
“The earl? One of Lucien’s oldest friends. He, Phillip and Rafe grew up together, causing trouble and breaking hearts. There was a time when they were at odds, but Phillip has changed.” She waggled her finger in Leona’s direction. “He is not one who will be doing a lot of flirting with you though. Even if you were not with Trace, Lucien would not allow that match.” Ciara took a drink. “Not because of what you are thinking. It has nothing to do with your lack of title or skin color, but purely because he looks upon you as a sister and would not let a man of such loose morals in your life like that.”
“Surely people can change.”
“And he has, but not enough to be okay for his sister.”
It was oddly comforting to hear herself being referred to as sister to a man with Lucien’s status.
“Tell me what happened,” Ciara ordered.
“Jackson continues to remind me that Trace is not the right man for me and that my mother would be disappointed in the knowledge I am happy with him.”
“What do you believe?”
“That she would be happy I am happy.”
“I think you are right. Jackson sees you as his daughter and therefore no man is going to be good enough for you, not in his eyes. My grandfather did not wish my parents to be together but he loves me unconditionally and I know this. Lucien’s father is coming around.”
“All Jackson sees when he looks at Trace is a man who owns slaves, and in his eyes that is all he will be good for.”
“What do you see?”
Leona trailed her finger along the accent pillow, following the jacquard pattern. “The man I love, the one I have always loved.”
“Do you not think, after all your pain and heartache, you are worthy of being happy?”
“I suppose so.”
“Then do not let anyone stop you.” Ciara squeezed her hand. “If being with Trace for you is like being with my Lucien for me, hold on to him with both hands and do not let go. Take flight with him and live your adventures together.”
“I am so lucky to have you as a friend.”
Ciara tugged her close and kissed her forehead, perfectly motherly. “It will all work out, you will see.”
If only she had half the confidence the marchioness did.
* * * *
Trace heard the plip of water and struggled to make sense of what had happened. One moment he had been questioning his brother in a jail cell and the next he had been clipped in the head.
Struggling to a seated position, he squinted through lowered lids, wishing his head would stop pounding. He didn’t recognize where he was.
“General?” Was the general here too?
His question had been pitched low because he wasn’t about to announce to the world he had woken. But his inquiry was not responded to. He tried twice more before he stopped and rested against the cold stone wall behind him.
He wasn’t tied, so there was the opportunity to escape. After making sure he hadn’t sustained any injuries, other than the hit to the head, he slowly pushed to his feet, utilizing the wall as support, for he was still weak on his limbs.
He checked his pockets and found they had been picked clean. Current status—unknown location, no money, and no way of proving he was who he said he was.
Panic rose for his son and Leona before he squashed it. Falcon was well protected under the watchful gaze of the Marquess of Heartstone and his family. Leona had them as well as Jackson to keep her safe.
It wasn’t the same as knowing he was there to do the job, but it did set him at ease a bit.
He checked the perimeter of the small space he was being held in. No handle on this side for him to try to open the door. Feeling through the darkness, he drew an image in his mind.
This was a jail cell. Smaller than the one he had been talking to Steven at, which meant he had been moved to a new location. Unless that place had an underground cell, which was possible. They hadn’t when he had been there last. That, however, did not mean one hadn’t been added since that time.
Who did this to me and for what reason?
Moving around a bit more to get his blood flowing, Trace latched onto an image of Leona and held it tight, unwilling to let her go. The door opened he heard the squeak of hinges, yet he still couldn’t see anything because everything remained dark. A net was tossed over him and he was dragged kicking and struggling out of the small room.
Not too much later he was strung up, and as he dangled from a hook two men strode in carrying lanterns, allowing him to see their faces. Men he didn’t know. They were soldiers though, that much he knew. They carried themselves in a certain way.
One was large and one smaller with wiry musculature.
“Colonel Morgan,” his larger captor said, setting his light down. “I have to tell you, it saddens me to do this to you.”
“Do what?”
“Punish you.”
“For?” He could barely touch the floor, so all his weight was pulling on his shoulders.
“Picking the wrong side.”
He growled low in his throat. “Where is my pitiful excuse for a brother?”
“Steven? In a jail cell last I knew. This has nothing to do with him, although later he may be used as a scapegoat when they find your dead body with that of your slave whore.”
He memorized their features for later, when he found them again to kill them. “Who hired you then? And why are you doing this?”
“Hired?” The smaller one spoke up. “We volunteered for this duty. There’s no pay involved.”
The larger one began unbuttoning his shirt, exposing a powerful torso. “This is honestly not going to bring me lots of pleasure, you understand, Colonel, but it will bring some. You have to learn the order of things again, as it is apparent that you have forgotten.”
He didn’t even fight. Whatever punishment they wanted to dole out, he had no problem accepting. He deserved it and more, by his estimation.
“What exactly am I supposed to learn?”
After the thinner man set down his light, he removed a whip from the bag that had been attached to his belt. Memories slammed into Trace as he stared at the three-foot leather whip with the tapered end.
Father’s favorite whip. His old man had preferred this one over the rest at his disposal.
“We fought to keep our way of life. To keep our lines unsullied. You not only disrespect that, but you take what does not belong to you.”
“Shut up and get on with it.” He closed his eyes once more, knowing this was going to hurt.
* * * *
Twenty minutes later, he continued to hang, spin and bleed. The man wielding the whip was worn out and had taken a break. All Trace could envision was his Leona enduring this at barely fifteen.
“I do not think he’ll break.”
“He will,” the larger one said, his voice deeper than the other’s. “We have a long time to get him to do so.”
“I will never break.”
He opened his eye and glared at them through the one eye that hadn’t been swollen shut. It hadn’t only been a whipping. They had taken great pleasure in beating him, using him as a bag to work out their frustrations on.
