Hunter Of My Heart. Janet Kendall

A frown heightened the sun-etched lines on his face. Water matted his blond hair. Gavin’s rolled sleeves and smudged trousers reminded Hunter that he had promised to help unload the wagon.

      “I worked and ye entertained a lass. Hardly seems fair. Now we’ve guests, I hear. What’s this about?”

      “I wish I knew. I need you to take this note to London.” He folded and sealed the parchment.

      “Now?” Gavin asked incredulously. “It’s raining! We’re supposed to be opening the castle. Hiring staff! What of me wedding plans?”

      After handing him the letter to Jonathan Faraday, their solicitor, Hunter explained the situation. “You’re the best captain I know, and the only man I trust to do this.”

      “Bloody hell! Fine time for Randall to concoct another scheme. We could wait. He might show his face.”

      “No. You helped me! A kidnapper. You were the ship’s captain. I don’t know the punishment, but transportation comes to mind.”

      Gavin drove a fist into the air. “I’ll strangle him myself if he ruins me wedding!”

      Hunter shook his head. “I’ve already brought enough trouble into this house. If he reveals the reason he’s been in Australia, my esteemed peers might charge me with kidnapping. The Tories would embrace any chance to stop reform!”

      Gavin let out a disgruntled sigh. “You think Parliament would take the case to trial?”

      “I’ll not chance your life or my ruination.”

      “What about the things he did to you? Were they not crimes?”

      Hunter combed his fingers through his hair. “True. My word against his, and you’re my only witnesses. I doubt the law would heed an accomplice’s word. Even in a land full of criminals, Australia has a small fashionable society now.”

      “Ye think he opened his bloody mouth and announced he’s the Baron of Wick? He’d risk his freedom to leave the estate!”

      “Maybe he’s testing me to see if I would do as I threatened. Maybe he lied to explain his presence. He’s made me look like scum before. I must learn if he’s behind this debt.”

      His friend scowled. “He’s always liked to play games, yer father. I’ll go, but watch yer back while I’m gone. This wouldn’t be the first time a desperate lass allied with the Sinner.”

      Hunter lowered his face in his hands. “I’ve the worse feeling that he found a way to leave Australia. You’re the last person I want to hurt.” He pounded his desk. “Damnation! I should have found a better way to stop him. If asked, I’ll say I held a gun to your head, and demanded you sail my ship.”

      “Nay! You’ll not lie to save me hide! Do ye hear me?” Gavin threw him a determined look. “In yer place, I would’ve done the same thing, and asked ye to help me.”

      Despite his knotted stomach, the words warmed Hunter’s heart. “I would have agreed.”

      Gavin moved forward and squeezed his shoulder. “As lads we pledged that we’re brothers, that we’d watch out for the other and share equal blame for everything. Don’t break our vow.”

      “We were children!”

      “Say it! No sacrifices!”

      He swallowed the emotion that rose to his throat. “No sacrifices. Go now. May God be with you.”

      After Gavin left, Hunter untied his cravat and leaned into his leather chair. For years, he’d rationalized his actions because he had prevented an offense against an innocent person. In doing so, he had committed a crime against a member of the peerage. He’d involved Gavin, a man with no title—although Hunter’s grandfather had raised him like his own—to help him. The thought reminded him of his mother and the loving way she had nurtured Gavin, too.

      Hunter closed his eyes and tried to shake away the memories and dark thoughts. Short of another crime, he would do anything to keep his past buried. The questions remained. Had his father returned to London? If so, what did he want?

      

      Yawning, Sabrina closed the door to her room and crept down the dimly lit hall toward the tower. Her head felt numb from worry and no sleep. She hoped the housekeeper was awake and would offer her a cup of tea.

      In the turret, dawn’s light flowed through a small window and softened the stone staircase, one smoothed by time. The steps seemed to shimmer with history. Each step bore a slight indentation, proof to the numbers who had used them. With a light touch, she traced the curved wall and coolness kissed her fingertips. Even to her untrained eye, she knew the turret had breathed for centuries while the main section of the house boasted Georgian architecture.

      For some odd reason, the heritage the turret represented mocked her situation. She missed the twins! Blinking away the tears, she continued down the stairs. Until the time was right, she must keep her and her sibling’s ancestry a secret.

      If Kenilworth paid her when she left Keir Castle, the money would curb some worries. She hoped the messenger returned quickly. Lord, she needed the money.

      As she reached the lower steps, she blinked at the surroundings. The staircase had spilled into the foyer and not the servant’s hall. She stared at the crystal chandelier that graced the domed entrance, the carved oak door and the sheet-covered furnishings. The appointments told her that riches filled the house, yet the contents didn’t matter. She was lost.

      Due to her worries last evening, she had paid no attention to the route. She glanced behind her. Should she retrace her steps? Gooseflesh covered her arms. Suddenly she realized the earl might take offense to her wandering and she eyed the door. Maybe she could walk around the castle and find the rear.

      “Going somewhere?”

      With her heart pounding, she swung around. “I’m looking for the servant’s hall. Actually, I’m lost.”

      Kenilworth leaned against the doorway of a room off the foyer. As he regarded her with a raised brow, he threw his frock coat over his shoulder and fingered his untied cravat. The motion drew her gaze to his throat, unshaven jaw and the exposed portion of his chest. Without his toilette, he looked... savage.

      Suddenly a knock sounded and his lordship glanced at the door. “Early for callers. More of your friends?”

      She produced a wry smile. “Perhaps just a traveler needing aid. If so, they’d do themselves a favor by looking elsewhere.”

      “A man could shave with your tongue.” With long strides, he crossed the foyer and opened the door.

      A servant dressed in indigo livery whipped off his hat. “Beggin’ yer pardon for the hour, milord. The Duke of Sadlerfield wants a word with the earl.”

      Sabrina’s pulse raced. Her grandfather! He must have followed her! She had to leave. Grabbing her skirt, she climbed a few steps, but curiosity urged her to look to the door again.

      “I’m Kenilworth.”

      Stepping into view, the man dismissed the servant with a crisp nod. “Splendid. May I come in?”

      Kenilworth gestured for him to enter. “Sadlerfield. I only know you by your politics. Did you come to sway my reform efforts?”

      Sabrina climbed a few more steps, but a sudden need to see this man made her peek over her shoulder. Maybe he hadn’t come because of her. The thought didn’t calm her thundering heart. If she moved beyond the banister, the curved wall would hide her.

      “That is a subject for later. Right now, I am looking for a young lady.”

      No! Spinning around, she raced up the stairs. Despite his longer nose and leaner build, the man resembled her father, only with white hair and a determined set to his jaw. She had to alert Marga!

      “A moment while I see to my guest. Miss Beaumont?”

      Sabrina