Flight of the Hawk, page 7
“Tell me what you see.”
The doctor preformed all sorts of tests. He put Trace up in a room and kept him there for another two weeks of observation.
Over those two weeks, Trace slowly regained the entirety of his vision. He got color back in his life. And his memories of being called a liar in his dreams had vanished. It was as if Elle’s parting words had given him the peace he had been seeking.
What he didn’t get back in his life was Elle. He never saw her. He didn’t go looking for her, but he’d hoped to run into her, to finally see her. One day he found himself passing Jackson’s shop and entered.
It was a large shop with brightly polished wood floors. There were large paintings on the wall that took his breath away. They were amazing.
They were wildlife paintings and scenic paintings. The animals looked like they were ready to jump off the canvas. The detail was so intricate. In his heart he knew who had done them.
There were people in the store looking at and placing orders for paintings. Jackson saw him and came over. The man had been conservative with his own personal description. He was a very good-looking man. One any woman would be happy with. A thought which made Trace grumble with jealousy as did the picture of Elle with him.
“Good to see you out and around. How are you doing?” Jackson was very professional toward him.
“I am well, thanks.”
“Looks like you got your sight back.”
“Yes. I leave tomorrow to go home and take care of some unfinished business. Will Elle be coming in today?” The question slipped out against his better judgment.
“No. She was in town yesterday.” Jackson didn’t embellish on that.
Trace didn’t know what to say. So he nodded his farewell and turned around and left the shop. He went back to the doctor’s office and packed his meager belongings. As he was packing, the doc came to the door and knocked.
“Come in.”
The doctor opened the door. “Do you have a minute?”
“Of course. Please.” Trace waved him in. The doc took a chair and looked at Trace. He was holding a small package. “What can I do for you?”
“I was just wondering how you were doing. Any soreness in your eyes?”
“No. I feel great.”
“That’s wonderful. I’m glad you made a full recovery.”
“I have a question for you.”
“Shoot.” The doc leaned forward in his chair.
“What happened to Elle’s mom? How did she die?”
There was a surprised and confused look on Doc’s face. Like he wasn’t sure what he was talking about. “Elle? Who’s Elle?”
“The woman who took care of me.”
The doctor shook his head. “Son, maybe you aren’t as well as you thought. Her mom died of some unknown disease. But her name isn’t Elle. Where did you get that idea?”
Now it was Trace’s turn to be confused. Her name isn’t Elle? “Of course her name is Elle. Why would she have lied?”
“Son, I don’t know about that. But I know two things. One, she left this for you.” Doc handed him the package. “Two, her name is not Elle. Her name is Leona. Good luck, son.” He left the room and shut the door behind him.
Trace fell to the bed as his legs gave out on him. Leona. She was his woman. It was the love of his life and she had to have known who he was the whole time and never told him.
He had to find her. No, he had to go home and deal with the traitors. But to leave her again… Could he do it?
He opened the package and what was inside brought tears to his eyes. It was a portrait of him in his dress uniform. She had captured him perfectly, except his eyes. They were happy, which his weren’t. They couldn’t be, for she wasn’t there with him.
He found two rings contained in the wrapped piece of cloth that he opened next. One was a very familiar academy ring and the other… The other was the one good thing he’d gotten from his father and had he had given to someone long ago, a slave girl who had stolen his heart. It really had been Leona who had helped him. Had kissed him. Had made him whole again.
Bringing the cloth up to his nose, he inhaled deeply. It smelled faintly of her flowery scent. Slipping the rings on his fingers, he rose quickly. He had to get to Jackson’s.
Trace ran up the street, ignoring the stares of those he barely managed to miss running into. Sliding to a halt in front of the store, he entered. Breathing hard, he walked up to the counter, hoping that Jackson was still there.
“Can I help you, sir?” A young woman stood on the other side of the counter. She was a cute little thing with a pleasant face and kind eyes. Not the woman he was looking for.
“Where is Jackson? I need to speak to him on an important matter.”
Regret slipped across her features. “I am sorry, sir. He’s gone.”
“When will he be in tomorrow?” Maybe he could talk to him before Trace’s ship left.
“Perhaps I wasn’t clear enough, sir. He is gone. My pa and I are watching his store for him while he’s gone. He’s leaving the island, or rather, has left the island.”
Gone. He is gone? “Can you tell me where he went?”
“Sorry, sir. My pa would know, but he won’t be in until the day after tomorrow.”
Trace’s eyes closed in agony. Perhaps they just weren’t destined to be together. He reached for the link that he had with Elle, or rather Leona, and sought out her feelings. They were apprehensive and yet excited. Possibly she didn’t feel the same way he did. They were from two different worlds.
He wanted to be a part of the same world with her. “Do you know Leona? Do you know where I can find her?”
The girl’s eyes grew shuttered. She clearly thought carefully about her answer before it left her mouth. “Of course I know Leona. Everyone in town does. These are her paintings she sells here. She’s gone though. She left with Jackson.”
That answer hurt, causing misery so acute it became an actual physical pain. Trace stumbled to the counter and leaned on it for support. His body shook with pain and loss. Intense sickness and desolation swept over him as he gasped for breath.
“Sir, sir, are you all right?”
Blankly he looked at her. Not a word did he speak.
“Sir? Please, sir, answer me. Are you all right?”
“I will be. Thanks for your help.” Trace turned and slowly rose to his full height before walking out of the shop. For the second time in his life Trace felt lost. The one thing that meant more than anything to him was gone. Again. And again, he had been powerless to stop it from happening.
So, silently Colonel Morgan boarded on the ship that would take him home to his former life. His life and his son.
Chapter Eight
Hawk’s Cove Plantation, five months later
Colonel Morgan and his commanding officer, General Harrington, headed toward the main house. Both men were in military dress, riding horses that were decked out as well. They were followed by more soldiers.
His house was a huge stone mausoleum. Large marble pillars graced the front and a veranda ran the entirety of the house. At four stories high, it screamed wealth and power. It wasn’t a happy place for him, never had been.
Dismounting at the house, Trace walked with the general, both bearing stoic faces up the stairs. The door opened by a silent black man dressed impeccably in the burgundy and royal blue colors of Hawk’s Cove. It was obvious that the colonel was recognized by the man, but he made no noise.
Inside there were more men waiting to take their coats and open doors. The inside was even more spectacular than the outside. The floors were marble, and they sparkled with cleanliness. The wood banisters gleamed and the smell of lemon and beeswax filled the air.
The men took no notice but walked down the hall toward the office, where Colonel Morgan opened the door without knocking. Behind the desk was a blond man with his hand up a young slave girl’s dress. He was laughing cruelly at the pain he was causing her.
Without missing a step, the general addressed the man. “Sergeant Morgan.”
The man paled then, if at all possible, did so even more when his eyes fell on the man next to the general. The scared girl shrank back and tried to hide from the view of the men in the room.
“Sergeant Morgan.” This time there was a warning in his voice. “You are hereby placed under military arrest for the false impersonation of an officer. For the conspiracy to commit murder of a superior officer, you are also being charged.”
“Trace. You’re alive. I thought you were dead.” Steven rose and made like he was going to hug his brother.
“Don’t come near me. Your plan failed, brother.” Trace stalked up to him leaned into him so only he could hear. “While I doubt you remember what I told you long ago because I’d just beaten you into unconsciousness, I’ll remind you. I said you would never hurt me again. You and that bitch of a woman I married, tried to have me killed, accept your punishment.”
“You can’t let them take me. I’m your brother. Damn it, Trace. Don’t let them take me.” Steven’s voice strained with fear as two men positioned themselves on either side of him.
“You are not my brother. I don’t have a brother.” His voice was harsh and emotionless as he watched the men take his brother from the house and put him in the back of a wagon with chains on his hands and feet.
After his brother had been removed, Trace sat down behind the desk. The only one left in the room were the general and the girl who huddled, scared, in the corner.
Trace turned to her. “What’s your name?”
“Sandy, Master, sir.”
“Go on, Sandy. Go to wherever you should be right now.”
“That would be here, Master, sir. Master Steven keeps me here for three hours a day.” Her voice trembled at that admission.
“Then go home, Sandy. Go on.”
“Yes, sir, Master, sir.” She backed out of the room, looking at them like they were going to jump on her any second.
After the door shut behind her, the general looked him. “What are you going to do now?”
“I’m done. I’m going to do something for myself now. I’m going to get my son, then I will be going to track down the woman who’s left her mark on me. I think I am going to England.”
“You don’t know where she is? Who is she? What about Bethany? Done with what?”
“She is Leona. She is the other half of my soul. I am going to divorce Bethany and go find her. I’m done with the army. I am resigning my commission.”
The general eyed his man with renewed interest.
“Is there nothing I can say to keep you in the army? You’re too good an officer to lose. Why not just take some time and find this woman then come back?”
Trace turned serious eyes to the general. “She and I wouldn’t be welcome here. I have lived too long conforming to this island‘s beliefs. Eden may be changing but not fast enough for me. I need to be happy and she makes me happy. The color of her skin should have no bearing on that, but here it does. I will die before I inflict more pain on her. Never again.”
Jonas Harrington stared at him. “Who is she? The girl who just left?” There was no condemnation in his voice, just fatherly concern.
“No, she is not a slave. Not anymore. She is my best friend, or was at one time. The one I told everything to. But now she has some man in her life named Jackson O’Neill.”
“Jackson O’Neill. Jackson O’Neill? Tall, dark hair, blue-green eyes? From Ireland? Sells things, deals with monetary matters? That Jackson O’Neill?” Jonas asked, surprised.
“You’ve heard of him?”
“Oh yes. His knowledge of financial matters is legendary. Even here on this island. He is considered to have the Midas touch. His fighting skills are also legendary. I have never had the opportunity to meet him but those who have speak highly of his abilities, and women speak highly of his appearance. He’s supposed to know some of the higher-ups in England. You know, members of the ton and all that.
“The last I heard he had left England and was hidden on an island and had taken up with a…a woman of color. It is said that their love was so strong they still speak of it on that island. I didn’t know that it was the island you were sent to.”
Trace knew Jonas wished for his friend Trace to be happy, but if Leona were truly in love with this Jackson fellow he would never stand a chance.
“Look, General, I have served well. I have to get on with my own life now. I’m going to deal with Bethany first then head back to the island and see if I can track her down.” He would not, he vowed, dwell on the fact that it was well known that Jackson was with a woman of color. Leona would be his.
“I won’t argue that you have served well. Don’t hesitate to call upon me if you ever need anything. Anything at all. For what it’s worth, I hope you find her, Trace. Really, I do. There is only one person out there who will complete your soul and when you find them, one must do whatever necessary to keep them. Keep in touch, Colonel, and let me know how it turns out.”
Jonas rose and stuck out his hand, which Trace took. The two men shook hands and the general nodded once more. He did an about-face then marched out of the door without looking back. Trace watched from the window as he rose into his saddle and led the men down the drive with Steven chained in the back of the wagon.
Sitting back down at his desk, Trace began making a list of all the things he had to do. Find Bethany and deal with her issue in his attempted murder. Divorce her. Find the papers on Leona and her mother and make sure that they were set free. Find out where she and Jackson went then follow. Win her back.
* * * *
Somewhere along the English coast
“What do you think, lass?”
“Oh, Jackson. It’s beautiful. I love it. Are you sure we can afford it?”
“Lass, you can afford something much bigger if that is what you wish for.” His voice told her he would get her whatever she desired.
“No, this is just perfect.” She slid her arm around the waist of the tall man next to her as she took in her new home.
It was a small cottage, only six rooms. Built out of stone, it sat on the edge of a cliff overlooking the raging surf. There was a path that led to the water from the house.
A small herb garden had been planted for her and there were rose bushes all around. A forest was not far off in the distance and there was a small stable for her newly acquired horses.
The interior had been done according to her own pleasures, except for Jackson’s room. That had been his to redo as he saw fit. It was open and airy, but when the windows were shut the cold damp air was stopped from reaching her.
Her bedroom was done in a pale green. Very open and spacious. Dark mahogany furniture graced her home upstairs and down.
Tucked away where the forest met the edge of the cliffs was her studio. She would be there daily as she painted overlooking the water. It was perfect. The only thing missing was…well, a man to share it with.
Jackson was wonderful, but he wasn’t the one she wanted to share it with in that way. The one she wished for, dreamed about, had chocolate-brown eyes, not eyes the color of the ocean. Brown hair, not black. His gaze made her tremble inside and made her want to do things she would never think about with Jackson, who had the honor of being the father figure in her life.
She wanted Trace, just as she always had. Just as she always would.
The arrival of a carriage made her turn. It was a well-sprung ride with an emblem on the side that told her whose it was. Liveried men jumped down as soon as the wheels stopped. Opening the door, they helped out a stunning woman.
The Marchioness of Heartstone. She was exquisite. Her eyes twinkled with good humor as she settled them on Leona and Jackson.
“Good day.” She reached for Leona’s hand without waiting for introductions. “I know I am a day early, but I couldn’t wait to meet you. You must be Jackson. Thanks for bringing her here. Please, call me Ciara.” The woman spoke fast, actions from her hands mimicking the speed.
The woman was amazing. She had eyes the color of whiskey and long black hair. Leona looked at her and felt her mouth drop open. She wore pants, buckskins, like Leona did at times. At a nudge from Jackson, she closed her mouth.
Leona stared at this woman who had asked for her. Her. To do their familial portrait. A glance down at her own clothes made Leona feel dowdy standing next to the marchioness in pants no less.
Reaching out a slim copper hand only adorned with a single topaz and diamond ring, she squeezed Leona’s hand in comfort and understanding.
“My husband is probably right behind me and the kids will be coming tomorrow with the luggage, so we have a little while to get to know each other.” She flicked her gaze between Leona and Jackson. “How long have you two known one another?”
“Thirteen years,” Jackson said as he slid his arm around Leona in a gesture of affection and support. “I’ll go inside and make sure a room is ready for you and your husband. Until later, Lady Heartstone.” He gave Leona a quick squeeze and headed off.
Chapter Nine
“He’s very attractive.” Ciara said, obviously trying to put her at ease.
Leona grinned. “He’s the closest thing to a father I’ve ever had. I don’t know what I would do without him.”
“Is your husband here?” Ciara asked with a bluntness that shocked Leona.
“I don’t have a husband.”
With a nod of understanding, Ciara responded, “Just tell me if I’m too pushy. Lucien, that’s my husband, says I really need to learn how to curb my tongue.” With a grin came, “That’s one of the main and many things he complains about in regards to me.”
“The other, princess, would be your perchance for running off without me.” A deep and authoritative voice broke into their conversation.
At the interruption, both women spun around to witness a man sitting on a horse staring down at them. A handsome man on a horse that looked like it had been running for a while. The man had a stern look on his face but, as he put his stunning blue eyes that were hardened with displeasure upon his wife, they softened to fill with love and more than a little exasperation.
