Sweet Release (38 page)

Signed by my hand on this, the twenty-third day of June in the third year of our sovereign, King George II.

Philip Kenleigh

Cassie read through the letter twice, the words swimming before her eyes, blood rushing to her head, her heart pounding like thunder in her ears. “No! This can’t be possible!”

The letter slipped from her fingers and fell unheeded to the floor.

Alec was there, saying something, reaching for her.

“Don’t touch me!” she heard herself cry, twisting to get away from his grasp.

“Cassie, calm yourself.”

“Calm myself?” Her legs were trembling. She could hardly stand. “Calm myself when ... when everything you’ve ever said to me is a lie?”

“Surely you don’t believe—”

“What am I supposed to believe? According to this letter you cannot possibly be who you say you are.”

“Cassie, listen to me—”

“Listen to you? I’ve listened to you. I’ve believed you. My God, I’ve lain with you!”

Suddenly red bricks were rushing up at her.

She felt strong arms catch her and lower her until she sat on the floor, her skirts in a heap around her.

“It is obvious what has happened,” he said, his voice soothing, his hands stroking her hair. “When Nicholas Braden died, his body was left in place of mine. And my brother Philip, behind it all the time, told authorities it was me to have me declared dead.”

Nicholas Braden’s body left in place of Alec’s? Alec’s family fooled? His brother to blame? Cassie struggled to make sense of his words.
Yes,
her heart cried,
that must be it!
There had to be an explanation. How else could she explain her feelings for this man? Because if what this letter said was the truth .. .

“Leave me,” she whispered, struggling to push him away, her voice barely audible even to her own ears.

For one moment she saw in his eyes a desperation to match her own. Then it was gone, hidden behind unforgiving stone. “Very well. Miss Blakewell.” He released her and stood.

Without another word, he was gone.

* * *

Cassie blew out the candle and fell back onto her pillows, exhausted, listening to the choir of crickets that chirped outside her window. These past seven days had gone by in a fog. She’d buried herself in her chores, working until the light failed, tending those sick with the ague until dawn. She’d hung tobacco in the sheds, harvested the kitchen garden, and gathered herbs for drying. She’d scrubbed every brick in the kitchen and every floorboard in the great house, even hauling the carpets outdoors for beating. Still she could not escape, crying herself to sleep despite her fatigue, only to be consumed by fitful dreams.

Like a sickness in the belly, remorse and fear ate at her day and night.

She knew she had reacted foolishly that night. As soon as she’d regained her senses and thought the situation through, she’d realized what Alec had known right away: It was Nicholas Braden’s body that had been found on the street that night and lay rotting in the grave in London. It had to be. Though Cassie would be the first to admit that there was absolutely no evidence to support this supposition, she could not believe otherwise. It was impossible that everything Alec had said and done during these past months had simply been a lie, part of some elaborate plot. His kindness to Jamie and the other children, his hard work and helpfulness, his kisses and gentleness as he made love to her . . . No man, no matter how artful, could feign the kind of goodness she had seen in him day after day.

Besides, what could he stand to gain? There was no wealth for him to steal. That much he had seen for himself when he’d reviewed her father’s ledgers. Her dowry, modest by Northern Neck standards, would be valuable only in the hands of a planter, which Nicholas Braden certainly was not. Nor could he possibly gain his freedom by seducing her, as neither she nor her father had the power to relieve him of a convict’s indenture. And though a lesser man might have used intimacy with her as a means to gain privilege and thereby escape the rigorous toil intended for a convict, he had never shied away from hard labor, often doing the work of two able-bodied men.

He was telling the truth. Of this her heart was certain. She would have asked his forgiveness days ago, but she knew something else, as well.

He was leaving, and she must let him go.

From a distance she’d watched as he’d taken Aldebaran riding early each morning, staying away a bit longer each day, building the stallion’s endurance. Today he’d been gone for nearly four hours. It would not be long now. One morning he would ride out and not return. Flying like the wind on Aldebaran’s back, he would ride to the nearest port town and sign on to the first ship leaving for England.

It was within her rights—nay, it was her legal obligation—to place him under guard again, even to shackle him, but she could not. To see him chained like an animal was more than she could bear. Besides, if he did not escape and return to England to prove to his family he was still alive, he’d be forced to endure fourteen long years of servitude. God save her, she loved him and would not see him reduced to that.

To the rest of Virginia society he was now Nicholas Braden for good. The day after the reply had arrived from London, the sheriff had sent a missive to her father, demanding to know what the letter had revealed, eager to put the matter behind him before he and Master Crichton left for Williamsburg for the season. Cassie had taken her time in answering. At first she’d considered lying, but any ruse would eventually be discovered, and she would likely find herself in gaol. Instead she’d written a vague reply, telling the sheriff only that the Kenleigh family believed Alec to be dead. The sheriff had written back the same day to say he considered the matter closed.

Let Alec take the stallion. Let him ride. Fast. If he were caught, he would be hanged.

Cassie put a hand to her belly to still the butterflies. Surely he would make it to port safely. Aldebaran was the fastest horse in the county, if not the colony. And if she was slow to report his escape, giving him most of a day’s head start, she could seem to do what the law required of her, while protecting him from capture. Unless...

There were so many things that could go wrong. The stallion could go lame or lose a shoe. Or throw Alec and injure him. Someone might recognize them and give Alec away. What if he failed to find work on a ship before news of his escape reached town?

Though he did not bear a brand, he could never be mistaken for a common seaman. His bearing and gentle features bespoke his social standing as clearly as if it were emblazoned upon his forehead. Would a captain hire him? Would others sense at once that something was amiss? What if he got lost and never made it to port? Though he knew his way around Blakewell’s Neck and its forests, he was new in the colony. Did he even know which direction to travel?

Cassie sat upright with a start. She grabbed her robe, sprang from her bed, flung open her bedroom door, and hurried down the darkened hallway toward her father’s study. It had to be here somewhere. With only the half moon to light her way, she felt her way along the ledgers on her father’s desk, removing one volume after another, searching.

Where was it?

The thud of a book as it hit the floor made her jump. She wanted desperately to avoid waking Nettie—or worse, Pirate, who would surely rouse everyone. It would be for the best if no one knew what she was about to do.

She was about to despair when at last she felt it—thin, unbound, made of rough parchment. Hastily pulling the document out from between two ledgers, she ran quietly to the window just to make sure, unfolding it as she went. Moonlight revealed faint lines drawn long ago in black, red, and blue ink—the curving banks of the Rappahannock, the Piankatank, the York, and the James, and between them jutting arms of land marked with borders designating each planter’s estate.

Heading toward the hallway, she hesitated, then turned back and walked over to the bookshelf, careful to avoid creaky floorboards. Standing on her toes, she pulled an old box down from the top shelf, wiped the thick layer of dust from its lid, and turned back toward the door.

Heart racing, she tiptoed down the stairs and noiselessly opened the back door. Looking cautiously about and seeing no one, she stepped into the moonlight and hurried toward the stables. She’d hide the map and the box there for Alec to find first thing in the morning. He’d know what to do with them.

The cobblestones were cold and rough against her feet, and the cool breeze raised goose bumps on her skin. She’d just reached down to open the stable doors when they seemed to open of their own accord and a hand closed over her mouth. Strong arms pulled her inside and closed the door behind her. She was engulfed in utter darkness.

“What in the name of God are you doing out here?” He released her.

“You nearly frightened me out of my wits!” Her pulse still raced.

A scream was squelched in her throat.

“You haven’t answered my question.”

“This is my home, in case you’ve forgotten. I’m the one who should be asking questions.”

“Very well,
mistress.”
There was a chill in his voice.

She heard him take a step, then watched his face emerge from the darkness, illuminated by the orange glow of a candle he’d retrieved from its hiding place beneath an overturned bucket.

His eyes were hard, impenetrable.

“Alec, I . . . ”
I love you. Please forgive me.
“I brought these. You have greater need of them than I.” She held out the map and the box she’d planned to hide in Aldebaran’s stall.

Taking them from her with a pensive frown, he opened the box first. The expression of astonishment that came to his face when candlelight revealed the two flintlock pistols within drew a smile to Cassie’s face. Oh, how she had missed him this week.

“They are . .. were my father’s.”

Placing the box on a nearby bench, he hurriedly opened the map, his eyes examining it quickly before coming to rest gravely on her. “Cassie,” he said after a moment, “I cannot take these. If I’m captured—”

“If you’re captured, I shall say that you stole them,” she said with a calm she did not feel.

“I hate to think what my escape might cost you as it is. If you were to be implicated in any way—”

“Please, Alec. Take them.” Her words came out a whispered plea. For a moment he said nothing.

“Since they shall see me hanged either way, I don’t suppose it would hurt to add theft to my list of crimes,” he joked with a lopsided grin.

“It is nothing to jest about,” she said, overcome by a wave of pure dread.

Then she knew. His being here tonight meant he was leaving in the morning.

“Tomorrow?” she asked, not even trying to hide the tears that welled up in her eyes.

“Aye.”

“Is there aught else you need? Bread and cheese? A hunting knife, perhaps—”

And what would the good folk of Blakewell’s Neck think to see me riding out laden with provisions? That I was going for a picnic? Nay, love,” he said, smiling at her. “You should go now. If anyone were to find you here . . .”

Cassie nodded, wanting desperately to reach out and hold him, the ache in her heart overwhelming. “Alec, be safe. I’ll not have a moment’s peace until I know you are at home and well.”

“I’ll send word as soon as I reach London.”

The tears came in earnest now, pouring down her cheeks, her shoulders shaking as she fought to suppress the sobs that welled up within her. She felt his arms enfold her, pull her close, felt his breath hot on her temple as he whispered reassurances. Burying her face in the linen of his shin, she clung to him as if to save herself from drowning.

“Shhh, Cassie, love.” He wiped the tears from her face. Whether he meant the kiss to comfort her or to bid her farewell, she did not know. Nor did she care. With a whimper she melted against him, opening her mouth to his, eager to banish her grief, if only for a moment.

Their lips touched lightly as Alec held her against him, nibbling her mouth with his own and tenderly kissing her face. Cassie twisted her fingers through his hair, drinking in the taste and feel of him.

“Alec!” She was aware only of his touch as he reached beneath her gown, lifting her breasts and molding them with his workroughened palms, gently caressing her taut nipples, making her moan, sending a cascade of heat deep into her belly.

Then he lifted her off the ground, carried her to an empty stall, and laid her in the straw beneath him. With trembling hands Cassie opened his breeches and, taking the heaviness of his erection into her hands, guided him into her.

“Love me, Alec.”

She lifted her hips to meet him, unable to stifle a sigh as he buried himself inside her with one slow thrust, filling her completely. Oh, how she had missed him. How she had needed him.

But he was here now, inside her, stroking her, making her ache for completion. She arched against him, ran her hands over the bunching muscles of his back and buttocks as he moved slowly inside her. He knew just how to move, just how to touch her to drive her mad. Then all at once it was upon her, sweet pleasure spiraling through her body.

“Alec!”

She felt him capture her lips with his, but he did not seek his own peak. Not yet. Twice more he brought her pleasure, slowly, tenderly, showing her with each kiss and each caress, she was his. Then, when she knew she could bear no more, he poured himself into her, his body shuddering with release.