The Impostor's Kiss. Tanya Crosby Anne

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СКАЧАТЬ voice hardened. “I’m afraid you’ve made it absolutely clear to me that allowing you to remain in Meridian is an impossibility, Fiona.”

      “But you…you cannot do this,” Fiona said, trembling. She shook her head in denial, but even as she did, she knew he could and he would. In his domain, Julian could do anything he wished, and if he wished to send her away empty-handed, she knew he could. Who would take him to task over it?

      Nobody.

      She was hardly important enough for anyone to raise their head over, much less their hand. The futility of it all swept through Fiona in a terrible wave of nausea.

      “Julian,” she begged, and fell to her knees, clasping her son to her breast. Ian started to cry in earnest, sensing her alarm, and she loosened her grip.

      “You have one hour to choose which of our two sons you will take and to pack your belongings,” he told her, resolved. “I’ve already made arrangements for you to be escorted home.”

      No—please!” Fiona beseeched him.

      Julian raised his hand to silence her, his jaw taut. His gaze lost every trace of warmth. “And if you return,” he warned her, “I shall take both my sons and leave you with nothing—not even your lofty pride.”

      Shock, for an instant, stopped the beating of her heart. What pride was there in a woman upon her knees? Fiona nearly cried out. She blinked away stinging tears.

      Julian turned and left her with the cold reality of his intentions. As the door closed behind him and the key turned in the lock, Fiona vowed one day to make him pay.

      In the end she would have both her sons, and he would die a lonely old man.

       Chapter One

      Northern Scotland, 1831

       W ho was she?

      Misty woodlands enveloped them, forbidding even moonlight from illuminating their northward path to a remote township in northern Scotland where J. Merrick Welbourne IV came in search of answers.

      Resting his head against the window, Merrick perused the unfamiliar countryside through a single open eye. Tonight the beaten road was peaceful, though the darkish woods made excellent spawning grounds for thieves and rogues. Like rats in the sewers of London, the north lands were said to be infested with them. Only a Tom O’Bedlam would venture through this place where brigands were said to thrive and townsfolk sheltered them, where outlanders were scrutinized through narrowed eyes.

      Merrick had been forewarned, but he’d come anyway, bound for a place called Glen Abbey. His father’s letters—dozens of them—had been penned to a woman there. Though the letters had been too vague to determine their relationship, it had become apparent by their sheer number that they’d been written to someone his father had once cared for.

      Now he considered what he should do when—if—he found her as he patted a hand over his coat where he’d placed the stolen missive.

      Should he deliver it?

      Or should he honor his father’s apparent wishes and let the past lie?

      For that matter, would she even accept the letter if he chose to deliver it?

      The tone of the posts suggested that his father had somehow abused her. He wondered what terrible thing his father had done to this woman and was curious why the letters had never been dispatched. But it was even more troubling that his father scarce left his apartments, reading the letters each night, sometimes weeping, and drinking himself into a stupor.

      It was Merrick’s greatest hope that he could find this woman and right an old wrong so that his father’s conscience might be somehow eased. At the very least, he wanted answers…and answers he intended to get.

      If ever they arrived at this mysterious little township.

      With a sigh, Merrick slumped backward into the leather seat and closed his eyes, seeking patience. The journey seemed bloody endless.

      Merrick certainly wasn’t proud to have snooped like some petty thief through his father’s personal items, but he’d felt driven to discover what lay at the heart of his father’s misery. It was his duty to his father just as much his duty to his country. It was a blessing Meridian was not of particular importance politically, as there were no provisions in their laws that would depose a sovereign for dementia. That was the first amendment Merrick intended to make. If by chance he ended like his father, he wanted them to pluck him from his sovereignty and to confer it at once to his heir.

      Of course, to pass on his legacy, it meant he must first get himself a bloody wife.

      The thought of that particular task sat like acid in his belly. He shook his head at the thought of all those silly little chits bouncing off their mothers’ skirts. The prospect of having to make witty chatter with empty-headed misses until he chose a bride made his stomach turn violently. The anticipation of having to endure one of them for the rest of his natural life gave him a fright. And their mothers—gad—vultures, all of them! He was glad to have escaped London for the time being.

      Somewhere beyond the carriage a birdcall caught his attention and his eyes flew open.

      Not just any bird, but a saker—or to be more precise, a very good imitation of one. He’d know the sound anywhere.

      He rapped on the carriage roof. “Did you hear that, Ryo?”

      The driver’s reply was petulant, as though he’d been stewing the entire journey. “I hear nothing, Merricksan! I only do what I am told!”

      Merrick frowned at the response—sour old codger. But Ryo’s objections over Merrick’s intervention wasn’t his greatest concern at the moment. Unless his ears deceived him, he had, in fact, heard a saker’s call. He’d recognized the cry at once; the saker was his favored bird of prey.

      He’d been no more than twelve when Ryo had first introduced him to the bold predator. And because it was more familiar to Oriental and Arab falconers, he’d never encountered anyone who’d owned one aside from himself. However, this was not the Orient, nor was it Meridian, and sakers didn’t fly wild in the north woods of Scotland.

      He sat forward, peering out from the window.

      Somehow the night seemed blacker than it should. Shadows teased his eyes and, for an instant, he had the strangest perception of looking down upon his carriage, sleek and black as it wheeled its way along the leaf-strewn path. The image was fleeting, gone before he had time to blink his eyes, but it was enough to make him doubt not merely his vision but his hearing, as well.

      He slumped backward, unsettled, his mood growing darker than the woods they traversed.

      They should have reached Glen Abbey Manor long before now… If he didn’t know better, he’d think Ryo was driving in circles, delaying their arrival.

      He rapped again on the carriage roof. “Chris-sakes, get us to a bed—any bed’ll do by now!”

      Ryo replied, “Grab your pants, Merricksan! We’re going as fast as we can.”

      “Not fast enough,” Merrick suggested. “And that would be ‘hold your knickers,’” he СКАЧАТЬ