Chapter Thirteen #3
“I only showed restraint because you were not harmed.” He lowered his voice. He could hear Heath talking to one of the servants in the hall. “I shall go mad if we cannot meet in private. I’m behaving like a man—”
“I shall be at the park tomorrow,” she said with a guarded smile.
“By yourself?” he asked, studying her face.
“Of course she won’t be by herself,” Heath said as he reentered the room. “Look at what happened to her today. A brother cannot be too careful when it comes to his sister’s welfare.” He looked directly at Adrian. “I’m certain you’ll agree.”
“How could one argue otherwise?” Adrian replied gracefully.
Heath shrugged. He’d changed into a clean shirt and buff trousers. “Are you staying for dinner? It is the least our hero of the day deserves.”
“No.” He shook his head. He could not trust himself to sit across the table from Emma and not reveal his feelings.
It was, in fact, killing him to leave her now with nothing resolved.
“I have intruded upon you enough. As well as bringing scandal to your house.” He grimaced.
“Not to mention looking like a pirate at the moment.”
Heath laughed, his good nature apparently restored. “Scandal is nothing new to the Boscastles. Indeed, I do not believe we would know what to do with ourselves if a week passed without some disgrace.”
Emma had laid her manual on the library table to examine it for damage. She could sense her brother, in turn, examining her in his subtle yet unnerving way. She wondered exactly what he saw.
“I do like Wolf,” he said as he turned to the window. “He is a natural defender. However…”
She continued to turn the pages of her beloved book. One had to be on guard against Heath’s “howevers” and his inscrutable stares. He did not pry. And yet he always seemed to know what a person was most desperate to hide. He understood human nature. He must have been an excellent spy.
She glanced up. “You were saying?”
“I said that I liked Wolf,” he answered after a deep silence. “He is a brave man. However…”
Emma continued to examine the pages of her manual for creases. “However?”
“Well, he has lived a hard life, fought battles that some would deem brutal.”
“He has, hasn’t he?” she murmured.
He arched his brow. “What I meant to say is that ofttimes, when a man is forced to defend his life, the lives of others, he sacrifices a part of his soul.”
She closed the book and looked at him. “Did you, Heath?”
He looked so taken aback she almost giggled.
“I thought so once.”
“And now?” she asked gently, feeling guilty for provoking him when she knew he had intervened only out of his deep concern for her.
“I have enough in my wife and family that I do not feel the lack,” he replied.
“Dear Heath,” she said with a rueful smile, “what would we have done without you?”
He sighed. “Is there something you wish to confide in me? I would never violate your trust.”
“There is only one thing,” she answered, her gaze downcast.
“Yes?”
“I want you to know I perceive that whatever sacrifices you made, whatever you feel you lost during the war you have more than gained back in wisdom and kindness.”
“That is all?” he asked in patent disappointment.
She looked up again, her blue eyes playful. “The Boscastle Inquisition is over. We are no longer children, and I am old enough to choose my own course.”
“That is not the answer I hoped to hear.” He grinned helplessly. “In fact, it is not an answer at all, you clever woman.”
Be happy, Emma.
Those had been her late husband’s last words to her, his benediction.
But he had not told her how.
Be happy.
And then he had expired, leaving her bereft but not alone, for no sooner had his coffin been lowered into the ground than her brothers had swooped down to convince her that she must abandon her young ladies’ academy in Scotland and move to London where they could watch over her and protect her from all the evils the world inflicted upon young vulnerable widows such as herself.
As it had turned out, and not exactly to Emma’s regret, she had been the one to watch over the Boscastles and warn them of the constant perils they sought and miraculously escaped unscathed, with the tragic exception of their youngest brother Brandon.
But Emma was not about to complain. Guarding her siblings had filled the void in her life, and now with all of them married, she could turn her nurturing instincts to the young ladies of London who so desperately needed the guidance of an experienced gentlewoman.
But suddenly the tables had turned.
The rogues were paying her back in kind.
They’d always accused her of meddling in their affairs. Now they were the meddlers.
It was over the next two days, however, that she realized how the strong arms of her family had begun to tighten about her like shackles. Scarcely could she take a cup of tea without one of her brothers hovering at her elbow. One or another of the demons seemed bent on accompanying her everywhere.
Since when had Devon taken such a keen interest in haunting the library the exact hour that she did? And when on earth had Heath ever enjoyed shopping for lace and haggling over the price of a hanky?
Still, it was not until her next unplanned encounter with Lord Wolverton at the museum that she knew a bona fide conspiracy had been hatched to prevent her from being alone with Adrian.
She and Charlotte were guiding the girls for a history lesson, when Drake appeared from behind an Egyptian sarcophagus and meandered past her to a collection of ancient pottery. Drake and ancient art?
Clearly her wicked brothers had decided they had reason to intercede.
“How did you know I would be here?” she whispered to Adrian as he followed her into the Roman gallery ahead of the girls.
“I have a spy in your house who informs me of your whereabouts.”
“You don’t,” she said softly. “It’s Harriet, isn’t it? How could you, Adrian? You haven’t told my brothers?” she asked in an undertone. She swallowed hard. “They know. There’s no other explanation.”
Adrian trailed her at a respectable distance. “Well, they didn’t hear it from me. I would rather die than betray you.”
She noticed Harriet sneak away from the group. All of a sudden she seemed to have lost control over her entire life. “Harriet, do not place your hand into that urn. You don’t know what might be in there.”
The air was chill inside the museum. Rain had fallen steadily throughout the day. Yet with Adrian’s warm, wool-cloaked figure at her back, Emma felt almost overheated. In a barely audible voice, she asked, “Why exactly are you following me, Adrian?”
“Because I want—because I—oh, hell, Emma, may we walk alone in the hall for a moment?”
She glanced around. “One moment only.”
He looked back, noting Drake’s figure only a few feet away. “It isn’t over between you and me,” he said under his breath. “It can’t be. I have spent every hour since—”
He broke off as they turned a corner together and discovered her younger brother Devon sitting in a chair perusing a collection of state papers. “Well, isn’t this a surprise,” Adrian muttered. “The entire family is here. There’s your brother.”
Emma glanced back through the doorway in consternation. “It can’t be my brother. I can see him standing right over there with Charlotte.”
“The other brother. Devon.”
“Devon? In a museum? Now I have seen everything.”
Devon lowered his sheath of documents, pretending to look astonished to see them, and gave a friendly little wave.
“This has gone too far.” Emma came to a halt. The girls crowded into the arched doorway behind Adrian. “I shall put a stop to it as soon as I return home.”
Adrian looked at Devon, whose friendly expression had gone faintly discouraging all of a sudden. “All I want to do is talk to you, Emma. Without a full complement of guards.”
She glanced back meaningfully at her brother. “It seems as if you shall have to do so by committee.”
He crossed his arms. “Unless we can arrange a private meeting.”
“We can’t,” she whispered. “At least not until they stop pestering me like this.”
His gaze darkened. “Well, I’m not giving up. And just so that you’ll know what you’re dealing with, I have never failed in any mission before.” He stared at her in male arrogance underlaid with a very appealing vulnerability. “And I don’t intend to start now.”
“We’ll see,” she murmured.
To Adrian’s surprise, his declaration of amorous warfare would demand a good deal more strategy than the straightforward military conquests he had waged in the past. He had earned his reputation as a hard fighter.
He had not, however, masterminded a campaign against the Boscastle brothers before. He had to admire their ingenuity and determination when it came to protecting one of their own.
His admiration would not deter him from his purpose. In fact, it only made him more determined to win.
He just wasn’t quite sure how to go about it.
They were four Boscastle brothers and one of him. Obviously he needed a powerful ally. And a bolder plan of action.