Bought for Revenge. Sarah Mallory
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the lake once, a few years ago, but even then the path was barely passable in some places and we were in danger of being tumbled into the water.’ She threw her groom an affectionate look. ‘He refused to ride that way with me again and made me promise never to do so alone.’ She pointed along the bank. ‘There is a boathouse over there, but to get to it you must cross the old wooden bridge across the inlet. It has not been maintained and I have no doubt the timbers are rotted away by now.’
He jumped down and handed his reins to Clegg. ‘I shall go and find out.’
She watched him stride off, torn between wanting to remain aloof and curiosity. Curiosity won. Kicking her foot free from the stirrup, she slid to the ground.
‘Wait for me!’
‘Now, Miss Belle—’ The groom’s remonstrance had little effect, save to make her smile at him as she had done so many times in the past when she wanted her own way.
‘Pray, look after the horses, Clegg. We will not be long and I will be careful.’
Lucas waited for her to catch up with him.
‘Are you sure you will be safe?’
‘We are only going to the bridge. Clegg will always be in sight.’
‘But he will not be in earshot. I might insult you verbally.’
‘You might, of course.’
‘You do not think I will?’
‘You have shown no inclination to be so ill-mannered since that first meeting.’ She slanted a glance at him, a slight frown in those clear grey eyes. ‘Why were you so rude to me then? We had never met, I had done nothing to deserve such treatment.’
Nothing, save be the daughter of a man I am sworn to destroy.
Lucas could not tell her as much, especially now he had decided her affection would prove a better weapon than her disgust.
‘Perhaps you were fatigued,’ she offered helpfully. ‘That can make one irritable.’
By heaven, she was even giving him his excuses! Looking into her eyes, he saw a faint, shy smile lurking there and he was obliged to squash a slight prickle of unease at making use of her in this way.
‘Yes, that was it.’
They were approaching the wooden bridge. Lucas could now see just how poor a state of repair it was in. The side rails had broken away and the boards looked grey and rotten. He stepped on to the bridge and tested one of the boards with his foot. It crumbled beneath his weight. He exhaled impatiently.
‘Sheer foolishness to leave it in this state. If it is so dangerous, it should have been rebuilt or removed.’
‘It should, of course, but no one ever came here to use it.’
‘You came.’
‘Not for years. Not since…’ She looked about her, and Lucas had the impression she had withdrawn from him. It lasted only a moment, then she shook off her reverie and said in a robust tone, ‘If you are going to reinstate the lakeside drive, then a stone bridge would look very well here.’
He replied absently, ‘Yes, I have always thought so.’
She laughed. ‘Now I know you are teasing me, Mr Monserrat. You have but this minute seen this place.’
He recovered quickly. ‘But I have studied the plans, and this point faces due west, into the sunset.’
Come, Lucas, let us go down to the lake and watch the sunset from the bridge.
‘Are you mentally landscaping the lake, sir? Perhaps you want to return it to its former glory. I am afraid that is not something I can help you with, since I have only seen it as a wilderness.’
It took Lucas some time to realise she was talking to him. ‘I beg your pardon, I was…dreaming.’
She waved aside his apology. ‘It is your home now, sir. Of course you want to take it all in.’
He looked across to the boathouse. ‘I wonder if the boats are still there.’
‘No. My brother and I looked in once. Papa said he had them broken up because they were unsafe. But the oars were on the walls then and there were some old fishing rods upstairs…’
‘There were?’ His eager response caught her attention and he was quick to explain. ‘I mean, I am surprised that they should have been left there, that no one would have taken them away.’
‘From what I understand Mr Blackstone was very severe with trespassers and the local people learned to stay away from his land. After he died they said he had left a curse over it.’
‘More ghosts, Miss Havenham?’
She gave a little shrug and a smile. He tested the bridge again.
‘What are you doing?’
‘The thick timbers spanning the inlet appear to be strong enough. I am going to have a look in the boathouse.’ He looked back to find her watching him, a wistful look in her eyes. ‘Will you come with me?’
‘The water is not deep here. I suppose the worst that can happen is we would get a ducking.’
‘Come along, then.’ He held out his hand. ‘Keep your weight over the main beams…that’s it.’
Her fingers clung to his as she carefully followed him across the bridge. He wanted to tease her, to say something about having to trust him, but he did not want her to withdraw again. She was clearly aware of their situation, for she kept her eyes lowered and a delicate flush painted her cheeks. As soon as they reached the far bank she disengaged her hand and began to stride ahead of him.
The boathouse was built out over the lake on the southern side of the bridge. The waterside opening yawned black as they approached, but when they drew closer they could see the water lapping gently against the stone walkways inside. The sturdy walls of the building were intact and a set of stone steps ran up the outside to the upper floor.
The wooden door to the lower part of the building had long since parted from its hinges and lay almost hidden in the long grass. The double glass doors in the gable end over the boathouse entrance had fared better and were still in place.
‘I suppose that is where they would have fished from,’ remarked Belle, gazing up. ‘The iron railings across the opening would have prevented anyone from falling into the lake.’
She put her foot on the first of the stone steps, but Lucas caught her arm.
‘No, let me go first. It may be dangerous.’
She followed him. There was no handrail, but the steps were wide and caused her no problem. The old wooden door at the top of the steps was swollen and Lucas had to put his shoulder to it to push it open. He moved inside, carefully testing the boards as he went.
‘The floor here is in better condition than the bridge,’ he remarked.
‘The roof is still intact. That has protected it.’ Belle followed him into the room. ‘I haven’t been here since Edwin was alive. It must be ten years and it is just as we left it.’
Belle looked around, remembering her excitement when they had found this miniature house with its little table and chairs, the wall sconces on the wall still bearing half-burned candles although their brass reflectors were pitted and dull with age. Now she could imagine the gentlemen—and perhaps ladies too—sitting at their ease on the chairs by the open doors, fishing rods draped out over the railings.
‘You discovered this place all those years ago, but never came back?’
‘I gave Papa my word,’ she said simply.
‘I do not think that would have prevented me.’
‘Then you have a more rebellious spirit than I,’ she replied,