Wild legacy (24 page)

Byron noted the sharp contrast in his daughters' moods, but did not comment on it. As they left the table, he drew Dominique aside. "Come into my study. I need to speak with you."

Grateful he was not including Belle this time in what she assumed would be another opportunity to criticize her behavior, Dominique followed without protest, but when Falcon joined them, she couldn't hide her surprise. "What's going on?" she asked, her apprehension plain.

Byron slid into his chair behind the desk and gestured for her to be seated. He waited until Falcon had taken the chair beside hers to reveal what was on his mind. "I realize that you and Belle were little more than prisoners in Camden, so I won't blame you regardless of your answer, but whether it was by force or desire, have you been intimate with Sean O'Keefe?"

Dominique had never been so badly embarrassed, and she looked down at her hands rather than meet her father's perceptive gaze. On the surface it was such an easy question, but she sensed it was of far greater importance than the mere state of her virtue. She did not know which answer

to give, the truth or a lie that might damn her but protect Sean with a forced marriage.

Byron leaned forward and rested his arms on his desk. "A simple yes or no will do, Dominique. I'll not turn a horsewhip on Sean, or worse, if he's been your lover."

Dominique had to force herself to breathe. "No, we've never made love," she finally admitted, and not at all proudly, either. She wondered if he would ask Falcon the same question about Belle, but he did not.

Byron chose his words with care. "With the exception of Falcon and Belle and Johanna and David, the members of our family have a history of selecting, shall we say, what might appear to some as unsuitable partners. That your own dear mother was Acadian outraged a great many of our friends, and it wasn't until the French took our side against England that I was forgiven for taking a bride from among our enemies. So if you want Sean, I'll not forbid the match, but first, we must be assured of his loyalty."

"That's rather presumptuous," Dominique argued. "He's not offered marriage."

Falcon opened his mouth to comment, but Byron raised a hand to silence him. "If Sean wants to continue seeing you, he will have to," he insisted. "But first, I wish to conduct a test."

Dominique grew even more uneasy. "What sort of test?" she inquired.

Falcon felt free to speak now. "We'd like you to pay Sean a visit tonight. Take him some rations since we neglected to provide any, and then mention in passing how distraught Belle is that I'm leaving tomorrow. You can easily add some remark about how poorly love and war mix, and say I had to rush away to meet a rebel force gathering in Petersburg."

"Is that what you're really doing?" Dominique asked.

"No, but it's an intriguing bit of information, and if Sean wasn't sincere in his vow not to harm your kin, then he'll pass it along to Loyalists who'll warn their troops. The Tut-

ties' are still staunch supporters of the Crown. Sean knew them well, and with their plantation bordering the Scotts', it will be a short ride. I'm betting on him to make it tonight. You owe it to yourself to discover whether or not he will."

Dominique needed a moment to sort out the implications of Falcon's scheme. "If I mention Petersburg and he shows no interest and doesn't share the information, will you trust him?"

Falcon shrugged. "No, not until the war's over I won't, but I'll take it as an initial sign that his word is good."

"Father? Do you agree with Falcon's plan?"

Byron sat back and steepled his fingers over his chest. "There was a time, and not very long ago, when I considered myself loyal to the Crown, so I can't fault Sean for his beliefs, but I'll not receive him in this house, or give my consent to your marriage, if I can't trust him not to spy on us." He fixed Dominique with a piercing gaze. "Would you really want a man who'd betray us?"

Dominique shook her head. "No, for I'd not be able to love him."

"Then you understand the importance of what we're asking you to do? We need to ascertain his loyalties as much for you as for the rest of us."

"Does it have to be tonight?" Dominique murmured softly.

Byron nodded. "I know you're tired, but Sean will be, too. He'll be less likely to be on his guard and that much more likely to reveal his true nature. I know you can do this, Dominique, and beautifully."

Dominique glanced toward Falcon and envied her sister for falling in love with a man whose loyalties would never be open to question. He had sworn she had made a poor choice in saving Sean, and she prayed she could now prove him wrong. "I'll do it," she agreed, "but Sean's very clever and he may see right through your ruse. If he does, I want

your word that you won't continue tormenting him, and me, with repeated tests of this nature." Byron rose to his feet. "You have my word on it." Falcon offered his hand to help her rise, and Dominique prayed she had not just gotten into a greater mess than she had made by leaving home. Her next thought was how badly she wanted Sean to protect whatever chance they might have for a lasting love.

Although touched by his praise, Dominique was too nervous to engage in flattery. "Thank you, but you needn't worry about your wardrobe, or lack of it. I've never been attracted to a man simply because of his clothes, although you were dashing in your uniform. Now, aren't you hungry?"

"I came in and fell asleep the minute I sat down so I haven't even thought about food. What did you bring?"

"A little of everything, but you mustn't count on me to furnish your meals. I was able to slip away tonight, but it wasn't easy."

"That's all right. I've no wish to be a burden to you." Sean pulled her down beside him on the settee and began to peruse the contents of the basket. "You even remembered cream for the berries," he enthused. "This all looks so good. Are you certain you can't bring me a basket every night? I won't mind eating whatever scraps your family leaves." He unwrapped a piece of cold chicken and took a bite.

Dominique had come to lay a trap, but as she watched Sean struggle to eat with one hand, she felt ashamed. He had already paid a high price for fighting for the British, and she did not want to extract more. "I can only stay a few minutes. I convinced everyone that bringing you something to eat was the most charitable thing to do, but no one thought I ought to offer my company as well."

Sean set the chicken aside and took a bite of apple. "Had you not begged me to stay out of it, I would have objected to the way your father greeted you. I know he must have been worried, but he didn't need to be so gruff."

Dominique smoothed out the folds in her skirt and glanced around the room. The pale green walls reflected the candles' soft glow, but most of the furnishings were draped with muslin, leaving her to assume they were beautiful pieces of highly polished fruitwood. The settee was upholstered in a green and gold striped satin, and comfortable if a bit small for Sean to curl up there and sleep.

Rather than simply toss aside the muslin, he had folded it and laid it on the back. She wondered if that was due to his military training or if he was always so neat. She knew very little about the man and that pained her.

"I expected a lot worse from Father," she finally replied, "and he's already calmed down considerably. Mother wasn't angry with us, but then she's always taken our side whenever we've needed her."

Sean laid the half-eaten apple with the chicken and wiped his hands on the checked napkin peeking out of the basket. "What did she say about me?"

He sounded apprehensive, as though her parents' opinion of him meant a great deal. Instinctively, she longed to reassure him, but would not give him false hopes and was deliberately vague. "She remembered you, but we didn't discuss you."

Finding that impossible to believe, Sean's expression filled with disappointment. "Not at all?"

"Well, perhaps a word or two," Dominique confessed with a touch of her old teasing ways.

"Come here." Sean slipped his right arm around her waist to draw her close, and spread an eager trail of kisses down the silky smoothness of her throat. "I have missed you, and terribly."

Rather than admit she felt exactly the same, Dominique raised her hand to caress his hair. "It's only been a few hours."

Sean inhaled her perfume and moaned with desire. "It seemed a lifetime."

He smothered Dominique's reply with a kiss that sipped her very soul and she clung to him, desperate for the joy of his embrace. She wanted to believe in him, and did not even know how she would cope with her disillusionment if he betrayed them. She leaned back and framed his face with her hands. She had grown accustomed to his beard and rather liked it.

"I must go. They all know I'm here, and if I'm not back soon, my father will undoubtedly come for me. I don't want to risk another confrontation between you two."

Sean leaned forward to nibble her lower lip. "He'll believe you'll come through the door in a minute or two and wait a while longer. I need more, Dominique, so much more of you."

Dominique needed a great deal more, too, but turned her head as he nuzzled her throat and licked her ear. It tickled, and coaxed a throaty giggle from her lips. "No, I must go," she begged. "I left Belle crying because Falcon is leaving before dawn."

She hurried on before she lost her courage. "He swears he has to meet troops forming to move south from Petersburg, but you'd think Belle would be more important to him." She held her breath as Sean kissed her brows, then her cheeks. When he reached her mouth, she slid her tongue over his and drank in his kiss.

Perhaps he had not been listening, but she had spoken the words, and completed her mission. Lost in his affection, she knew she made a very poor spy; but he was all that mattered to her. If she gave herself to him, then he would stay with her all night. She was sorely tempted to insure his silence with passion until she realized he could just as easily pass on the information in the morning. Her heart and head at terrible odds, she gave him a final, fervent kiss and tore herself from his arms.

"I want to stay," she swore, "but not like this when my father might come bursting through the door at any instant. I'll have to wait a few days, perhaps as much as a week, and then slip out of the house after midnight."

Sean placed a loving kiss in her palm. "I'll need the time too," he said. "I want to be strong enough to make everything perfect for you, but it's going to be very difficult to wait." He sucked on her fingertips. "I want to taste all of you."

"Oh, Sean," Dominique moaned. Tears came to her eyes as she left the settee. "I do so want everything to be perfect for us always."

Sean rose and slipped his arm around her waist. He gave her a fond squeeze, and walked her out into the yard. "I'll walk home with you."

"No. You mustn't," Dominique insisted. "Just stay here and enjoy your supper. I'll come back to you just as soon as I can."

"Promise?"

Dominique kissed him again rather than give her word when she was so uncertain of what the future would bring. She took care not to touch his left shoulder. He no longer needed to have the dressing changed daily, but she had enjoyed having the excuse to remove his shirt and touch his bare skin. "God be with you," she whispered as she turned away. She hiked up her gown and ran toward the river with light, dancing steps, but she was barely out of sight of the house when Falcon stepped out of the tall grass to meet her.

"Did you tell him?"

"What do you mean, leaping out at me like that? You scared me to death." Dominique was shaking, but it wasn't because of Falcon's abrupt appearance.

"I'm sorry. Did you tell him I'm leaving for Petersburg, or not?"

"I told him and he didn't seem to have the slightest interest. He didn't ask any questions, or even remark on the cursed war."

"Really? Well, I intend to watch the Scott house for the next couple of hours. Do you want to wait with me?"

Dominique looked out at the river, where the reflection of the stars' shimmering sparkle lent the mystery of the night a romantic mood she would have much preferred to have enjoyed with Sean. Because that was impossible, she wanted to go home, get in bed, pull the covers up over her

head, and forget he had ever been a British officer. She knew she would never be able to get to sleep not knowing what he had done, however.

"I'll wait, but I doubt we'll see anything."

Falcon took her hand as they started back up the path. "For your sake, I hope you're right, but if I'd fallen in love with a Tory girl, I'd not have forgotten my country."

"There's no comparison between you and Sean," Dominique whispered.

"Yes. I know. Look."

They had reached a point from which they could observe the house and outbuildings without being seen, and there was already a light in the stable. "Perhaps he just went to check on Baby Dee," Dominique prayed aloud, but in the next instant Sean led her mare out into the open. He could saddle the horse on his own now, if awkwardly, but he had to lead her to a stump to mount. Dominique did not need to see any more; heartbroken, she turned back toward home.

"Don't you want to see where he's going?" Falcon called to her.

"Follow him if you like," she told him. "I already know." Truly she had no doubt Sean would ride to the Tuttles', and pass on the news that rebel forces were gathering at Petersburg. She had laced the lie with deep kisses and he had believed every word. He had accused Liana of ripping a hole in his pride, but he had just torn her heart right out of her breast. She would not see him again. She could not, for it would be far too painful to watch the warm glow of love turn to an icy hatred in his eyes.

She entered the house and went up the stairs without going to her father's study to report how swiftly Sean had taken her bait. She would let Falcon apprise him of the fact, for she could not bear what would surely be a knowing nod followed by some murmured platitude meant to diminish her sense of loss. None of them had trusted Sean to be anything other than what he had always been: a British of-