Page 23 of An Affair at Stonecliffe

“Think about it,” he went on reasonably. “Why would I have tried to kidnap Gil yesterday? You were considering my proposal, I know you were. It was the sensible course. All I had to do was wait until you agreed. I had no reason to take Gil. You cannot really think Lady Drewsbury was in on some nefarious plot. How the devil would I have explained it to her when I showed up with Gil by himself? Why would I have frightened the boy like that when I could get what I wanted so much more easily?”

A new fear rushed through Noelle, and she shivered, her hands trembling. Embarrassed, she clasped her hands together. The last person she wanted to see her weak was Carlisle Thorne. For five years he had been her bête noire, the man who haunted her dreams.

He could be lying. He could be the unprincipled, untrustworthy man she had been certain he was yesterday evening. But it was true that it made no sense for him to attempt an abduction yesterday. He was about to get what he wanted. He didn’t need to tear Gil away.

If Thorne was determined to separate Noelle from Gil, it would be more logical to do as she had been thinking yesterday—wean Gil away from her, offer him the advantages of wealth and power, pull him into the world of the entitled, until Gil no longer belonged to her. It was also true that the man yesterday was not the one who had followed her before. She thought of the years behind her. “But...if it was not you who tried to abduct Gil, that means...”

He nodded. “That someone else is after you.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

“WE’RE GOING TO get Gilbert.” Thorne took her by the arm again, though without his former iron grip, and pulled her to her feet. Setting off toward the inn, he went on, “But you two are not returning to that squalid room.”

“You’re putting yourself in charge, I see,” Noelle said dryly.

“And you, needless to say, are automatically opposed to doing anything I suggest.”

Noelle didn’t point out that his statement had not exactly been a suggestion. She was too tired, too much in shock, to decide anything herself. It would be a wonderful relief to, for once, turn the problem over to someone else. She shook her head. “No. I’m not opposed to that.”

Carlisle glanced at her. “The first thing we are going to do is get some food into you. And brandy. You need to rest. Clearly you’re not yourself if you’re agreeing with me.”

“I’m fine,” she began.

“No.” He raised an admonitory finger. “I am in charge now, remember?”

His hand was firm beneath her arm, and Noelle realized that she was leaning against it more as they walked. He was right; she was dead tired. She had been unable to sleep much the night before, and now the energy that had kept her going was draining away along with her fear. She must not let herself depend too much on Carlisle Thorne. Perhaps he was not her enemy, but neither was he her friend. She had to remember that. But right now, she hadn’t the strength.

They walked in silence for a while as they took the road to the inn, skirting the graveyard. After a moment, Thorne said in a low voice, “I am sorry that you have lived in fear of me for so long.” Noelle glanced up at him in surprise. She could see only the side of his face, for he steadfastly kept his gaze straight ahead. “I am not—I never sought to harm you or Gil. It never occurred to me that you might be running from my men because you were frightened. That you thought I was going to steal your son from you.”

“I can’t imagine why I would have thought such a thing,” Noelle retorted sarcastically.

He whipped his head toward her, scowling. “I didn’t try to steal him! Or buy him. I—” He bit off his words and took a breath, once again looking away from her. “I realize that I was...rude to you when we met.”

“That’s one way to describe it.” She noticed that he had not said he was wrong, only that he had been impolite.

His lips twitched in irritation, but he said only, “I regret very much that I gave you the impression I wanted to take your son from you. I hope you will accept my apology.”

“I do.” His words could not wipe away what he had said and done that night; he thought no more highly of her now than he had then. But what else could she do but accept his apology? It was something, at least, that he was resolved to be polite. She must get along with him. If there was danger to Gil from someone else, she would need all the protection she could find. She had no illusions that she could shield her son from harm as well as a man of Thorne’s power and wealth could. If it meant Gil’s safety, she would get along with the Devil himself.

When they reached the inn, they were quickly ushered into a private room with a small, welcoming fire, and brandy was brought in short order, confirming Noelle’s opinion of how much more a man of influence could do than she could. She was grateful for that influence, though, as she sank onto a chair by the low fire. She was exhausted, every part of her aching. Somewhere in her mad dash through the cemetery, she had lost her shawl, and the evening chill of the churchyard seemed to have seeped into her very bones. Huddling in on herself, she leaned closer to the warmth.

“Here.” She looked up and saw Carlisle looming over her, holding a glass in one hand. His brows rushed together, and he reached toward her shoulder with his free hand. “What—” Noelle instinctively shrank back from his touch, and he dropped his hand, saying gruffly, “Was your dress always ripped there?”

“I don’t know.” Noelle hadn’t looked in a mirror since she’d changed disguises earlier. “It probably happened when we were fighting in the graveyard.”

“I didn’t mean—it was not purposeful. I...” His voice trailed off.

Noelle almost smiled. Clearly this man was dreadful at apologies. In truth, she thought he had been trying to protect her during their tumble. She remembered the way he had twisted as they hit the ground so that he had taken the brunt of the fall. Still, she was not inclined to try to soothe his guilt. Whatever he thought, whatever the truth was, his pursuit had terrified her for years.

Thorne thrust the glass at her. “Here. Drink this. You’ll feel better.”

The brandy burned a path from her mouth to her stomach, making her gasp, but she had to admit that it revived her a little. He told her to take another drink in that same irritating tone of command, and she did so. She hoped he wouldn’t become accustomed to such obedience from her. She had no intention of supplying it.

“Good.” He sat down in the chair across from her. “Now...we need to talk. First we must get Gilbert—where the devil is he?”

“With Lisette.” At his blank expression, Noelle added, “The woman who owns the shop.”

“He’s there? All this time, he’s been snug in the millinery store?”