No Recourse Page 2

  Besides, she was simply unwilling to risk sleep again with its terrible images. Lacing up her tennis shoes, she tiptoed past Tori’s bedroom and out the front door. Taking a deep breath of fresh air, she felt a tremor of fear and considered turning back to the house. She shook it off as unwanted weakness and started down the dirt path toward the tree.

  She had almost reached the spot when she was startled by the sound of thunder somewhere in the distance.

  “Damn, I hope it doesn’t start to rain.”

  Glancing at a clear night sky twinkling with stars, she wondered where the thunder had come from. The light of a full moon lit the path ahead and the walk was easy and relaxing. She loved walking at night. While she knew night sounds and eerie shadows frightened others, she took comfort in the darkness, refuge in the peacefulness, and loved the shelter it provided.

  Again, she heard a crash of thunder, louder this time. If a storm was blowing in from the direction of the shore, she’d better hurry. Increasing her pace, she cursed herself for being a fool, tramping through the woods for a silly romance novel. As she approached the giant oak, she glanced around the desolate area.

  “Erin. Where are you? Why can’t I find you?”

  She bent down to load up her forgotten backpack in the darkness. Rushing lest the storm began, she hastily retrieved her book, water bottle and sunglasses, and then started to place the bag on her back.

  Suddenly a bright flash of lightning struck the tall oak tree in front of her, throwing her back onto the ground where she lay stunned. Every hair on her body stood straight up and every nerve felt as though it had received an electric shock. Dazed, she looked up at the tree. It had split right down the middle all the way to the ground, yet amazingly, it was still standing. The two halves were pointing outward at sixty-degree angles, but they had not fallen to the earth.

  Impossible.

  An unexpected movement on the other side of the tree caught her gaze. Through the opening in the oak, a man on a large, dark horse looked back at her. He wore a large cloak with a hat pulled low over his face—rainwater gushing off the brim.

  The dark horseman from my dream.

  Panic set in. Glancing quickly at her surroundings, she considered running, but realized—as her recurring dream had repeatedly proven—she would never escape him and his horse in the dark. The saying the best defense is a good offense popped into her mind. The only course of action was to stand her ground.

  Unfortunately, she wasn’t standing on the ground, but sprawled across it due to the force of the lightning strike. Rising slowly, she tried to get a better look at the man. Occasional flashes of lightning served to cast his face in even darker shadows. The moon had deserted her, leaving a bleak darkness that allowed her to see the outline of his colossal form on the horse, but no more. However, even in the dark, she could feel him staring, his gaze burning into her.

  She cautiously approached the split in the tree. The man from her nightmares had been chasing her for years; however, the horse had been a new addition, only appearing since Erin’s absence. She had no idea what that meant.

  Am I dreaming again?

  Somehow, deep inside, she knew for certain the broken tree, wild storm and strange man were very real this time. Cognizant of the danger he presented, she searched the ground looking for a broken branch or anything else she could use as a weapon. She feigned amazement in the rent the lightning had caused, stepping closer to the tree, hoping to draw him into conversation. She needed to hear his voice. Needed to be sure it wasn’t the same one that laughed in her ear—that whispered those horrible, terrifying things—even though she knew that was impossible.

  Her concerns about the man quickly diminished as she sensed a strange stirring around her, like a powerful wind was blowing somewhere nearby, but not touching her. Glancing around, she tried to determine where the sound was coming from. It was eerie and frightening and unlike anything she had ever heard before. It was as if every bee on earth was hovering over her head and she couldn’t resist the urge to swat at them. While the surrounding air was calm, it seemed alive.

  Recalling the stranger, she took one more tentative step toward the tree and the world was thrown into utter chaos. She was violently thrust into a whirlwind of vibration and noise, caught up in a tornado. Painful, powerful strokes lashed at her body, while a million high-pitched voices shrieked inside her head. She tried to scream, but couldn’t hear the sound of her own voice over the roaring around her. Her body tossed and turned like a feather in the wind and the world exploded in bright, flashing lights—blinding her—searing her eyes with fire and heat. Desperate to save herself, she reached out to grab something, anything that could pull her back to safety.

  Suddenly, she felt large, callused hands grab hers. They pulled her out of the madness, away from the noise and pain, the light and heat. As quickly as the cyclone captured her, it released her to the rough hands that held hers tightly. Silence fell again. Weak and exhausted, she looked up into the concerned eyes of a man she had never seen before.

  Then the world went blissfully black.

  Chapter 2

  June 1818

  Jack stared at the unconscious woman in his arms. Her presence had taken him by surprise. Before lightning struck the tree, he was unaware that anyone else had been nearby. Who the hell was she?

  I should have stayed on the ship.

  Taking in the woman’s strange appearance, he wondered why she would be out alone on such a treacherous night. And dressed in male clothing. Could she be a part of the smuggling ring suspected to be operating in this area?

  Alex, the Marquis of Dorset, had written several months ago regarding his concerns about light signals he had observed off the coast. Alex had heard there was a group of smugglers at work and, although smuggling wasn’t new to these parts, he’d been concerned by rumors that it wasn’t goods being brought in, but people.

  With the end of the war against Napoleon, there was still a fear that some of the French weren’t happy with the return of their king and would like nothing more than to punish England for its unwanted interference. If French spies were trying to enter the country, Dover would be the perfect place to land. Its close proximity to the French shoreline and many secluded beaches made it an accessible port for such dissidents.

  However, it wasn’t the possibility of French spies, but Lady Julia’s disappearance that prompted him to travel to Fernwood Grange. He’d spent the better part of the last three months aboard one of the ships in his shipping company, traveling to Spain and Italy, then back again, only to return home to discover Julia Parker, a ward of his uncle, was missing.

  If he’d taken the time to think about his actions, he would never have made such an ill-advised trek at such a poorly chosen time, but he was anxious to discover Julia’s whereabouts. She’d been missing for two days. The Grange, Alex’s home, bordered his uncle’s land. Since Jack was determined to remain in the area until Julia was found, he believed the Grange was the perfect place to begin his search.

  He needed to question the woman in his arms. No one at Fernwood Grange expected him—especially not in the middle of the night. Driven by his anger toward his uncle and desperation to see Julia safely recovered, he had traveled first to his uncle’s estate, the Homestead.

  The journey there had proven to be an unproductive waste of time as his mad uncle uttered inane threats while providing no insight into where Julia could have gone. Jack had left in a furor. Even though Fernwood Grange was only ten miles away from the Homestead, the trip had taken three times as long as normal due to the unnatural darkness, then the pounding wind and rain.

  Looking down at the woman’s still form, her unnaturally pale face stirred him to take immediate action. Carefully, he lifted her onto his horse, then hoisted himself into the saddle. Adjusting her to a secure position, he rode off through the woods in the direction he had just come. There was a small hunting cabin not too far away, deep in the copse. He would take the woman there
and question her, as he couldn’t see any reason to wake up the entire Grange household.

  If she was involved with the smuggling of French spies, he would get the answers he was seeking and personally deliver her to Alex in the morning. He and Alex could contact the local magistrate and put an end to the criminal activity at once.

  Perhaps these smugglers knew of Julia’s whereabouts. That thought prompted him to quicken the pace of his horse, anxious to put the nightmare of these past two days to rest.

  Slowed by the continuing storm, they arrived at the cabin a quarter of an hour later. He dismounted carefully and carried the woman through the rain to the shelter. Using the occasional flashes of lightning as his guide, he picked his way across the room and deposited her on a straw pallet. Then he went back out into the storm and led his horse, Lancelot, to a crude stable behind the cabin.

  As he cared for the horse, he wondered again who the woman was. Why was she out on such a terrible night by herself? Her presence wasn’t a coincidence. Had the lightning not struck the tree, he would never have known she was there. The god-awful weather had taken away most of the senses he relied on. He hadn’t heard her over the thunder, and the rain was coming down so hard he could barely see a few feet before him. However, she was as shocked by his sudden appearance as he was by hers. The suspicious way she regarded him immediately clued him into the fact she had something to hide.

  Returning to the cabin, he threw his saddlebag on a nearby table and used the flint by the fireplace. Fortunately, the last occupant had left a large load of dry firewood inside the cabin. It would last through the night. The room was extremely cold due to the howling winds.

  After a few minutes, he had a large fire blazing and two candles lit. From his saddlebag, he produced a dry shirt and breeches. He’d packed a single change of clothing, anxious to make his way to the Homestead. His valet was to meet him tomorrow with his belongings. Glancing quickly at the bed, he confirmed the woman was still asleep, so he peeled off his wet things. Once dressed in dry clothes, he tried to decide how best to question her when she awoke.

  Rifling through a battered trunk at the end of the straw pallet, he pulled out three thin, wool blankets. With the light from the candles and fire, he stood at the end of the bed and studied the unconscious woman. She was a stranger to these parts. He’d grown up in the area and had spent many holidays with Alex at the Grange as a youth. He’d never lain eyes on this woman, of that he was certain.

  He studied her unusual outfit more closely. Her breeches were not those of a man, but tailor-made for a female figure. Cut low on her waist, they enhanced the curves of her shapely legs and bottom. Her damp green shirt clung to her body, revealing firm, full breasts. She had no coat, leaving him to wonder if perhaps her late night adventure was unplanned. No woman would venture out on a night like this dressed in such inappropriate clothing. As he studied her exquisite form, undeniable desire passed through him.

  Shaking off his lustful thoughts, he turned his attention to her face. Her fiery red tresses were unpinned and cut so they just brushed her shoulders. A mass of spiral curls lay loose over the pillow. Before he could stop himself, he walked to the side of the bed and bent down to brush a stray ringlet away from her face.

  Her pale complexion didn’t appear to be natural, but a result of the intense pain she suffered under the tree. If he hadn’t seen her walking toward him after the strike, he would have suspected the lightning had hit her. However, she didn’t scream in pain until she approached him, or rather until she approached the tree. He didn’t question the pain had been truly intense. He had seen men wounded in battle too often not to recognize the real thing.

  For now, the agony had waned as she rested peacefully. Long lashes hid her deep-set eyes and he felt vaguely curious about their color. With hair that color, perhaps they would be an emerald green or perhaps hazel. She had a few freckles on her delicate nose and cheeks he found endearing. Although her features were not what conventional society would consider beautiful, she was one of the loveliest women he had ever seen.

  Enough!

  Jack was disgusted with the direction his thoughts were heading. This woman could be a spy. No doubt his lustful musings were from the lack of female company endured these past few months. While he loved sailing the open seas, it left a man lonely for the comforts of home and a soft, willing woman.

  Any soft thoughts about this woman would not help him discover her identity. Picking up one of the threadbare blankets, he cut it into strips. Testing the strength of the material, he put it to the side lest he need to restrain her later. He didn’t want to harm her, but he was determined to get the answers he was seeking. With smugglers in the area and Julia missing, too much was at stake.

  She shivered slightly and he noticed a blue tinge around her lips. The fire wasn’t producing much heat in the drafty cabin and her clothing was still wet. Grabbing the two remaining blankets, he covered her, and then pulled a chair over to the corner of the room. He needed a plan and found he couldn’t concentrate when he was so close to this beautiful stranger.

  Sitting down heavily, he rubbed his brow. His head was aching from fear and anxiety as he considered his lost friend once again.

  “Damn you, Julia Parker!” Where on earth was she? The past three years spent in Jack’s presence had no doubt jaded the girl. Ruined her chances of being a proper young woman. He took credit that—with his grandfather, Sebastian’s help—he had made the young lady impulsive and reckless by allowing her to roam the countryside at will. He should have visited her as soon as he’d returned home rather than journeying straight to London. He’d been three months at sea and the trip to London could have waited. If he had gone to see her first, she wouldn’t have felt the need to run away. Despite her knowledge of the area, an eighteen-year-old girl alone in the woods was prey to all sorts of dangerous things—human or otherwise.

  A slight stirring on the bed dragged his attention back to the present. Jack knew the exact moment she woke up. Her soft breathing quickened, becoming shallow.

  With some amusement, he watched her take in the room. His initial plan had been to scare her into answering his questions. With his naturally dark features and large build, he could have this woman shaking with fear in a matter of minutes. However, as she conducted her calm evaluation of the room, he realized she was likely intelligent and, by her lack of panic, brave.

  He broke the silence. “How nice of you to join me.”

  The woman flinched and then slowly turned her head. Her eyes were brown. It was a foolish thing to notice.

  “I trust you are comfortable?” He had placed one candle on the table by the pallet so he could see her expressions clearly. The other he’d set on a shelf behind his chair, to cast his face in shadow, hiding his identity and, he hoped, increasing her fear.

  “Actually, no.” Her voice was strong and clear. Jack found her confidence slightly infuriating. Although he knew he wouldn’t harm her, she didn’t know that. She should be acting with more caution. “What the hell kind of mattress is this? Straw? Who sleeps on straw these days? It’s scratchy and cutting into my skin.”

  He struggled with her accent. It was unusual. He only knew one other person in the area who spoke like her and he found himself questioning her origins even more.

  The woman studied him, waiting for a response.

  “I beg your pardon if you’re not comfortable, but I have several questions I need answered. Until I discover the information I am seeking, you will have to endure the straw.” Closely observing her features, he sensed hostility, confusion, and then, he thought with some satisfaction, the slightest hint of fear flashed in her eyes before she shuttered the emotion away.

  Hayley’s mind reeled as she considered the man’s bizarre behavior. This was the stranger by the tree, she had no doubt about that. What she couldn’t figure out was where she was and what questions he could possibly have for her.

  Her first impression was ‘pirate.’ His Brit
ish accent seemed coarse and he was the very picture of a swashbuckler in his old-fashioned pants, loose fitting shirt and high boots. His dark brown hair, tied neatly at the base of his neck, was touched with natural highlights and his deep tan suggested he spent most of his time outdoors. She couldn’t make out the specific features of his face or eyes, but the strong jawline certainly looked promising.

  From what she could see of him, he had a very handsome face, perhaps even worthy to be the hero in one of those romance novels Tori was always reading. Though she should have felt fear, her instincts told her she wasn’t in danger. Despite her current predicament, she truly didn’t believe he would hurt her.

  Though he was obviously trying to frighten her with the calculating stare, cool demeanor and dim lighting. Even his distance from her suggested some premeditation. His mistake. She’d lived with the greatest intimidator in all of history for nine long years. Her father had thrived on producing fear in the people around him. She’d learned at a very young age how an abuser’s mind worked. Pirate or not, this man had met his match.

  “What on earth could you have to ask me? I don’t even know you.”

  Standing slowly, he approached the bed. “Oh no, you don’t understand. I ask the questions and you answer them.” He was beside her, looking down at her on the bed.

  She recognized the movement for what it was—yet another means of intimidation. He was using his size to hover over her in a threatening manner. Unwilling to let his towering presence unnerve her, she struggled to rise to a sitting position. Her head swam with the too quick movement as a wave of dizziness consumed her. She fell back against the prickly mattress. What the hell?

  Her face flushed with anger and frustration. She hadn’t planned to show weakness, now she’d come off as totally helpless. It pissed her off.

  “I won’t answer anything until you back off, buddy. Either sit down or help me up.”