Highwayman Husband. Helen Dickson
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leave all this behind? After all, it meant nothing to you.’
‘No,’ she said quickly, offended that he might think that and eager to make him understand otherwise. ‘I’m not like that. When you know me better you will see that I do not shake off my responsibilities so easily, Lucas. I told you last night that I considered it my duty to remain, and that I have come to love this place. I did not speak lightly. Oh, it can be unnerving when there is a storm,’ she admitted, ‘and at times the wind does seem to buffet the house so hard I often think it’s about to be blown off its perch. Sometimes it shrieks so loud I feel frightened when I hear it.’
‘And yet you stay.’
‘Yes. It’s my home. Besides,’ she said, the trace of a smile tugging at her lips, ‘what sort of figure do you think I should cut in London without the right escort?’
‘You have your brother and his wife, and Carlyle is often in London, I hear. Did he not ask you to accompany him?’
‘No. And if he had I would have refused,’ she said with absolute honesty.
‘But you must miss your brother and his family,’ Lucas persisted.
‘I told you that I have seen them recently. Philip and Jane brought the children to Roslyn for the summer months.’ She looked sideways at him. ‘Are you, by any chance, telling me that I should not have stayed at the manor after all, Lucas? Are you trying to get rid of me?’
Lucas shook his head. ‘No, indeed,’ he answered, ‘and I am extremely grateful that you didn’t desert the old house and those dependent on the family for subsistence. But, on reflection, I realise that it can’t have been easy for you.’
‘It was a difficult time, I admit that, but the way I saw it I had no choice.’
Lucas smiled and ran a finger down her cheek, gently taking hold of a stray curl and hooking it behind her ear, thinking how adorable she looked with her hair all mussed up and smudges of dirt on her lovely face.
‘I have every reason to be grateful to you for your loyalty. You certainly looked after my interests in my absence. I can see I could not have left my affairs in more capable hands.’ He nodded slowly, his astute gaze on her face while a slow smile drifted across his own. ‘You’re a strange creature, Laura, and not a conventional one. I can see that. Just as I think I’m getting to know you, some new trait shows itself.’
‘May God spare me from being predictable,’ she laughed, quite appalled by the idea and sharing his humour.
‘Something tells me you’ll never be that. That’s your appeal,’ Lucas responded quietly. He gave her a long, silent look, and then moved away. ‘I have things to do and I shall disrupt your work no longer.’
‘What are you planning to do with yourself today?’ Laura asked, reluctant to see him go.
‘Oh, this and that,’ he replied casually, shooting her a brief smile before disappearing out of the door.
Alone once more, Laura wandered around, mechanically going about her chores. Her emotions seemed to be all over the place, and thoughts of Lucas filled her head. She had a feeling that something deep inside him was reaching out to her, and, finding an answering response in her, this strong, magnetic pull was drawing them closer together. The thought warmed her.
Despite their volatile encounter on the road last night and the angry words they had exchanged—when Lucas had made it plain that he expected complete obedience from her, that she would be governed by him and bend to his will—every instinct that she possessed told her that he was a sensitive man, capable of great gentleness as well as strength.
Laura waited all day for Lucas to return to the house. When he failed to do so and the light began to fade, she went in search of John. ‘I thought our guest would have returned by now, John. Would you instruct George to saddle my horse? I think I’ll ride to Stennack. I believe that is where I shall find him—don’t you?’
‘Aye, my lady. That’s where he’ll be.’ John watched her go, seeing there was an added spring to her step, and that her large eyes were aglow and animated. He smiled, his wrinkled face alight with happiness for her.
Laura rode along the narrow, winding path along the top of the cliffs, with Stennack always within her sights. She breathed deeply the crisp October air, tasting the salt of the sea on her lips. She came to a place where the land was broken by a fast-flowing stream which looped its way through the valley below, among marshes and reedbeds, until it was funnelled into a deep lagoon.
Following the path down, she paused, gazing at the still waters, quiet and beautiful, but, as everyone in these parts knew, depending on the weather, this could change and be quite frightening. Over the years several drownings had occurred here, and at least one ghost was reputed to walk and disappear into the cold and mysterious black depths.
But this did not trouble Laura, her mind being too preoccupied with other matters. At the end of the lagoon the water spilled into Roslyn Cove, running out to the sea. Slowly she followed its course, the precipitously wooded cliffs rising on either side. At the point where the river ran onto the sands the rocks fused above, forming an archway through which she could see the sea beyond, with the last rays of the setting sun resting on its dark waters with a translucent clarity.
Further out in the cove there was a large number of rocks, some of which showed themselves at half-tide, some at low water, but by far the greater of these never appeared at all. Many stricken ships had met their doom on these submerged rocks. The coastline with its small, sandy beaches was littered with the naked bones of wrecks. It had many hidden coves and creeks and inaccessible caves, which together gave rise to tales of smuggling and wrecking.
When Laura had first come to Roslyn there had been excitement and romance in some of these tales, but after she had borne witness to one ill-fated ship that had run aground on the rocks during a storm the reality had destroyed the romance. She had seen with her own eyes the ruthless desperation of the men and women who had come from the nearby hamlets and surged into the cove to salvage what they could when the spoils of the sea were dragged onto the beach, all half crazy and behaving like animals as they made sure there were no survivors from the stricken vessel.
Roslyn Cove was better situated than most. It was an ideal place for vessels from France to deposit their cargoes of contraband. The cliff was riddled with caves and chambers beneath Roslyn Manor, and it was rumoured that there was a tunnel linking them to the house, but Laura had never found it.
Contraband was often stored in the caves until the dark nights when the packhorses and wagons would come and take it away across the moor, the majority of it destined for London. Because of the reputation of this part of the coast, where smuggling was carried out with great skill and cunning, and which was so extensive it was virtually impossible for the coastguards and revenue cutters to control, Laura had learned to tread warily, and to hold her tongue.
Following the path up to the top of the cliff on the other side, she looked further west, where the coastline continued to trace its intricate way in and out of tiny coves and around the handsome headlands as far as Fowey’s graceful river and town.
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