Mine Is the Night_ A Novel - Liz Curtis Higgs [146]
“Wednesday eve. He was waiting for me on the road, not far down the hill, behind the large boulder.”
The knot inside him drew tighter. “Did he intend to walk you home?”
“He did not.”
Jack leaned closer, fearing what he could not see beneath her cape, beneath her hat. “Please, Bess. Please tell me he did not harm you.”
She said nothing for a moment. Then she tugged on the ribbon that held her bonnet in place and let it slip into her lap. “He did not mean to hurt me. But he did.”
Jack stared at the scarlet mark on her face, rage building inside him. “What … caused …”
“The stubble of his beard.”
“Nae!” Jack shot out of his chair, startling them both. “How … dare … he!” He ground out the words, fighting for control, knowing Elisabeth needed his compassion. He forced himself to sit, to breathe, to think only of her. If he thought of Rob MacPherson, he would hurt everything he touched.
“Bess, Bess …” He took her hands in his, though he could not look at her. “Forgive me.”
“You are not to blame, milord.” Her voice was low, the words broken.
“I am entirely to blame. I should never have engaged his services. I should never have allowed him to stay—”
“You couldn’t know this would happen,” she was quick to say. “In truth, I never saw him behave as he did Wednesday eve.”
Jack swallowed with some difficulty. “Men are capable of terrible things when they do not get what they want.”
“Aye,” she said softly. Though her eyes glistened, she held her tears in check.
Jack was grateful, knowing her weeping would unleash his anger afresh. “Why did you not come to me at once?” he asked as gently as he could. “Surely you were not ashamed?”
Her eyes cleared, and her voice grew stronger. “Nae, Lord Jack. I was in pain.”
He gripped her hands, then realized he was holding them too tightly. “I am no help at all,” he said, frustrated with himself. Twenty-odd years on a ship filled with men had ill prepared him to comfort a woman. “ ’Twas courageous of you, Bess, to ask him to leave Bell Hill.”
“I did more than that,” she confessed. “I asked him to leave Scotland.”
Jack straightened in his chair, feeling the knot tightening further. “Is there something you’ve not told me?”
“There is.”
He could not form the words. “Did he …”
“He did not. Though he tried.”
Jack closed his eyes, overwhelmed by the images flashing through his mind, each more terrible than the one before. My poor Bess. “What the man did is no less a crime.”
“I know.” She swallowed. “So I sent him somewhere you could not find him.”
He looked at her, his every feature knotted in confusion. “Why, Bess?”
“Because you would have killed him.”
Her words shocked him. Not because she said them, but because they were true.
Elisabeth held him with her gaze. Her clear, warm, blue gaze. “It was not Rob MacPherson I wanted to spare, milord. It was you.”
Oh my sweet Bess. He bent forward and kissed her gloved hands. “How is it you know me so well?”
“I know you are an admiral,” she said softly, “and therefore well accustomed to thrusting swords into the hearts of your enemies.”
She knew him very well indeed. When he rose, a new resolve filled him like wind swelling a topsail. “No man will ever threaten you again. I will keep you safe at all hours and at all costs.”
Elisabeth tipped her head. “But how—”
“Belda is now at your disposal. Ride her to and from Bell Hill and anywhere else you choose. I will see to her upkeep in a stable near Halliwell’s Close.”
For the first time that morning, hope shone in here eyes. “Truly, milord?”
“Truly.” It felt good to offer her more than sympathy, though she deserved a large measure of that too. “Every man in my employ will be sworn to protect you—”
“As well as the other women of Bell Hill,” she insisted.
How like you, Bess, to think of others. “Aye,” he promised her. “Another tailor will be engaged, though he’ll not reside here.”
“Not all tailors are like Rob MacPherson,” Elisabeth said gently. “ ’Twas his obsession, not his profession, that made him dangerous.”
“Indeed.” Jack exhaled, as if breath alone might drive out