Fair Weather Enemies Read online

At her blunt confession, unwanted emotions stirred again in Adam. Sympathy gave way to empathy as he imagined the possible roads ahead of her, one bitter and the other disastrous. He eyed her covertly, noting how the soft angularity of her features highlighted pouting lips. And how she swayed when walking, seemingly unaware of the hypnotic effect it might have on a man. He jerked his eyes forward when she caught him staring. With focus restored, he reminded himself that she was a Hancock and therefore a waste of a perfectly attractive woman. He shifted his eyes to find her watching him suspiciously.

  “I have given your plight brief consideration,” he said, “and may have prudent advice to offer.”

  “Prudent advice, you say? I am all ears.”

  “Yes. In the interest of attracting suitors, I suggest you refrain from unleashing goats on unsuspecting young men, lest you gain a reputation for unfeminine behavior. Although I am particularly fond of goats, I fear others may find them less humorous than I did.”

  Her frown curved into a smile. “Thank you for the very practical advice. However, I should take this opportunity to explain that the goats were simply retribution for what you had done to me two years earlier.”

  “Two years earlier? What do you mean?”

  “You know very well what I mean, Señor Romeo.”

  He fought to suppress a snort as understanding dawned. He recalled the incident but wished to hear her version of events. His expression remained blank. “I still fail to understand. Perhaps you would remind me.”

  Her smirk clearly communicated her disbelief of his professed ignorance. Still, she played along. “Very well, Mr. Ashford. The summer I turned sixteen, my head became filled with all manner of fantasies regarding possible suitors. A regular Gothic novel, if I recall. Imagine my reaction, then, upon receiving a letter from a secret admirer professing his adoration of me. A letter signed only ‘Romeo.’”

  He chuckled softly. “I can only imagine.”

  “I am certain you can. Well, then imagine my further flights of fancy when a subsequent letter suggested that we meet clandestinely for the purpose of professing our love for each other.”

  “The cad!” He gripped his lapel in mock affront.

  “Yes. The cad. However, owing to my tender age and lack of judgment, I agreed to meet the mysterious stranger in the clearing at the end of Pickford’s Holloway. At the appointed time, I slipped the watchful eyes of my protective mother and hurried to the clearing in search of true love.”

  “Did you find true love there, Jane?”

  “You know very well that I did not. Instead, I found a donkey tied to a tree. And hanging from the donkey’s neck was a piece of wood sporting the name ‘Romeo.’”

  He laughed, despite his best efforts to resist. She whipped her hand around and leveled a finger at his nose. “And that was exactly the laugh I heard emanating from the trees along with the mirth of many others. You and your ridiculous friends, no doubt. I was humiliated.”

  His laugh trailed into a sigh. “I will admit I enjoyed your humiliation at the time. However, now I feel an apology is in order.”

  “Don’t let me stop you, sir.”

  “Right, then. I apologize for humiliating you in front of my friends. However, let me also say how impressed I was by your subsequent actions.”

  Her apparent confusion indicated that she had forgotten the rest. “My subsequent actions?”

  “Yes, Jane. Despite your obvious embarrassment, you approached the donkey, cried loudly, ‘Sir Romeo! How I have longed for you!’ and then planted a kiss on the poor animal’s nose that made my friends a little jealous. Then you tossed your hair and left the clearing as if nothing were amiss.”

  She chuckled softly at his retelling of the events. “I had forgotten that part. I remember only the humiliation and hurrying home to cry for hours afterward.”

  Shame flooded him as he observed the hurt still apparent in her eyes. His hand stretched to lightly touch her sleeve, freezing her on the spot. She eyed his hand with frowning alarm before finding his face. He withdrew the touch and removed his hat.

  “The prank was beyond cruel. I admit that now and ask your forgiveness. Truly.”

  Her frown faded slowly as she returned his gaze. “I forgive you. Truly.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Although…”

  “Ah,” he said. “I knew a caveat would be in order.”

  She glared at him. “I was merely going to say that despite the humiliation, I did like the donkey. He was certainly more charming than your uncouth friends.”

  Adam smiled and resumed walking. “And more charming than I am?”

  She hurried to match his stride. “That goes without saying. However, you might be slightly more charming than Beelzebub here, although I remain undecided.”

  “I see. Well, perhaps in time, I may prove my superiority to the horse.”

  She moved ahead of him before tossing a look over her shoulder. “Perhaps, sir. For now, I will give Beelzebub the benefit of the doubt. You, however, are on notice.”

  “Fair enough,” he whispered. “Fair enough.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  A growing sense of unease drove Jane to walk ahead of Adam as he dragged the mischievous horse along the road. For a moment, she had forgotten her duty to despise House Ashford and every member of it. In doing so, she betrayed three generations of Hancocks who had worked so diligently to cultivate animosity. With her future hanging in the balance, she could not afford to fall victim to Adam’s easy charm and handsome face. She simply could not.

  Still…those moments of freedom from the weight of the feud had refreshed her soul. After stewing for a time, feelings of disloyalty gave way to resentment. Resentment for the crushing burden of an old fight bequeathed to her without her consent. Resentment for the dire straits she navigated because of the feud. Most of all, resentment for the deprivation of possible friendships disallowed by hatred between the families. Over the next two hours, she walked in silence behind a chatting Barlow and Hester while sipping from the bitter potion of resentment and regret. However, the inner turmoil did not abate.

  “Enough,” she whispered finally. Her isolation had not moved her any nearer to finding the gold, or any nearer to liberation from the doubt plaguing her. She wiped unbidden tears from her eyes, gathered her pluck, and slowed until Adam caught up. He peered sideways at her.

  “Beelzebub missed you, Jane.”

  “Only Beelzebub?”

  He chuckled. “I suppose I missed you as well. Although I did enjoy the view.”

  She shot him a sharp glance. Had he made an inappropriate remark about her figure? To her surprise, she took little offense. Perhaps he was as befuddled as she was. Still, she preferred not to dwell on the implications of his comment.

  “With regard to the view, sir, it seems we should begin paying more attention to the next portion of the letter.”

  “Agreed. How does the next line of your letter read?”

  She did not need to retrieve it, having committed the next several lines to memory. “To long-hallowed ground of ancient giants, who offered to men and to kings great defiance.”

  “You stole my thunder, Jane.”

  “I merely remembered what you read earlier. Even a child can do that. A Hancock child, anyway. As for Ashford children, well…”

  He smirked and shook his head. “Always with the Hancock superiority. How does one survive among mere mortals with such lofty self-regard?”

  “Simple. We observe the actions of the Ashfords and then do the opposite.”

  “In that case, I will strive to present a worse example. That aside, should we not be discussing giants rather than comparing pedigrees?”

  “Of course. I suggest we begin by contemplating the nature of ancient giants. As we have little evidence of actual giants outside of fairy tales, I will assume th
e phrase is metaphorical.”

  He pursed his lips and nodded. “A valid assumption. Given that, I propose that the giants might be physical phenomena.”

  “Such as?”

  “Trees, for instance. A dense forest of tall trees would be difficult to penetrate, and thus offer defiance to any attempting to do so. Even to kings.”

  She nodded agreement, pleased with his observation. Her mind spun along his line of reasoning. “A good point. Another possibility lies in the landscape.”

  “The landscape?”

  She swept her hand toward the road before them. “If my grasp of geography is correct, this road will lead us along the Lake District. Some of the tallest fells in England are there and have provided a natural defense against invasions from the north. Perhaps these are the giants referenced by the letters.”

  He nodded while scanning the road ahead. “An excellent observation. Fells would certainly qualify as ancient and would defy the movements of men and kings.”

  His response threatened to bring a smile to her lips. She had always assumed Adam to be a condescending person, likely dismissive of those beneath him and disregarding of women. However, the warm authenticity of his words seemed to count her as a person of at least some importance. She quickly thrust the conversation forward to prevent a return of mental turmoil.

  “Another idea occurs to me.”

  “I am listening.”

  “What if…what if the ancient giants were well-known people? Warriors, perhaps, or statesmen.”

  He stared ahead for a time, apparently considering the notion. “Another good suggestion. Maybe one who protected his people from invaders, thereby opposing both kings and men.”

  “Exactly. We should ask the locals at Hesket about the history of the area. They might provide the clues we need.”

  Adam nodded again and flashed her a grin. She could not help but note how his cheeks dimpled when he did so. And how the smile warmed her, despite her best intentions to dismiss it.

  “I always knew you to be a worthy opponent,” he said. “However, I still underestimated you. Now, you begin to frighten me.”

  She laughed. “Perfect. I have desired nothing more than to strike fear into your heart. I only hope to have you groveling at my feet before this journey is finished.”

  “Not likely, Miss Hancock. I never grovel.”

  “And I said I never vomit, but we all know what happened aboard Wayfarer.”

  “Then we shall see about that.”

  “I look forward to it, Mr. Ashford.”

  She could not help but notice how Aunt Hester cast a backward glance to smile at her.

  …

  Jane rubbed a foot between her hands, not caring how unladylike it might appear. Propriety was for people who had not just walked four hours at a brisk pace in suspect shoes. She looked up from her aching foot to find Adam disappointedly scanning the drab interior of the tiny pub. The man behind the bar proved monosyllabic, dashing any hopes of collecting information about local history from him. The only other patron of the pub lay sprawled across a table surrounded by empty pint glasses, snoring loudly.

  “How are your feet, dear?”

  Jane shifted her regard to Aunt Hester. “Tired but unbroken. And yours?”

  “Miserable and thankful for the respite.”

  “Hear, hear,” said Barlow. “When I was a lad, I would walk ten miles without a second thought. Now, I feel as if I just crossed the Alps with Hannibal and his elephants. The indignities of old age, I suppose.”

  Aunt Hester frowned. “I would hardly call forty old.”

  “How did you know I was forty?”

  “Simply a guess. You seem too vigorous to be older than that, yet too astute to be much younger.”

  He chuckled. “I see. Excellent logic, Mrs. Byrd.”

  “Hester,” she said.

  “Pardon?”

  Jane blinked, surprised as her aunt blushed. “Call me Hester, please.”

  Barlow sat up straight in his seat and drew a deep breath. “It would be my pleasure, Hester, if you would return the favor by calling me Simon.”

  “Absolutely, Simon.”

  Jane shook her head in wonder. Since childhood, she had viewed her aunt as the mortar holding together her disintegrating family. Aunt Hester had always been the first to sacrifice and the last to wilt under fire. Her budding affinity for Mr. Barlow seemed to lift that burden, if only for the moment. Jane wanted the same. Desperately. However, the knowledge that her future depended on an impossible search and a toss of a coin held her captive to dread. Still, she was happy for Aunt Hester’s freedom. She deserved it.

  “I’m afraid we must seek information elsewhere.”

  Adam’s pronouncement distracted Jane from her dark musings. “Are you certain?”

  “I believe so. If we are to learn anything of the local area, we will need to inquire elsewhere.”

  “Not neshess…sharily.”

  All four of them jerked their heads toward the loud, strange voice. They found the slumbering drunk sliding off the table to mount unsteady feet. He wobbled toward them with a pint glass in one hand and plopped into an empty chair upon reaching their table. He barked a laugh, showering them with fetid breath that reeked of ale. Adam recovered first from the surprise.

  “You know of someone who may help us?”

  A look of affront crossed the man’s face. He stabbed a thumb into his chest. “I can help you. I know everything ’bout this area. There ain’t a thing I don’ know. Ask me. Go ’head.”

  Adam glanced at Jane with lifted eyebrows. She nodded to him. He turned back to the drunk.

  “What is your name, uh, sir?”

  “Thithelthwet.” The named seemed a slur of unintelligible syllables.

  “Thithelthwet?” said Adam.

  “No, no, boy. I said, Thi…thel…thwet.”

  Adam looked to Jane again with confusion. She leaned forward to address the drunk.

  “Thistlethwaite?”

  “Yes,” he roared happily, “Just as I said. Thithelthwet. The boy has sap in ’is ears.”

  Adam shook his head. “Right, then. Now, Mr. Thistlethwaite, as you are the expert in all things local, perhaps you might possess the answer to a very specific question.”

  The drunk seemed affronted anew. “Might? Might, you say? I jus’ tol’ you. I know everything. Go ’head. Ask me.”

  “Very well, sir. What can you tell us of…” Adam paused to shake his head, apparently embarrassed by the nature of the question. “Giants in the area?”

  Jane expected a blank look, a cock of the head, or some other indication that Thistlethwaite knew nothing at all. He surprised her by slapping his hand on the table and roaring with delight.

  “Giants? Giants, you say? Why, I know all ’bout giants. I can tell you everything about the Giant of Castle Hewen. Wouldja like to know? Hmm?”

  The foursome exchanged startled glances. Jane leaned toward the man once more, excitement rising. “Yes, Mr. Thistlethwaite. Tell us all about that giant.”

  “Very well, miss.” He gripped a grimy lapel. “In days of yore, Castle Hewen belonged to the Bad Baron, Ewan Caesario. Nine feet tall, he was.” The man lifted an arm overhead to demonstrate the height and nearly tumbled backward in his chair before arresting his fall. “Nine feet. Maybe ten.”

  Jane eyed Adam with surprise. He shrugged. She looked again at the drunk. “So, sir, he was an actual giant, not a metaphorical one?”

  “Thas what I said, miss. Ten feet tall. Maybe eleven.”

  “Go on, Mr. Thistlethwaite. What can you tell us about him?”

  “Everything.” He lifted his empty pint glass to his lips and threw it back before lowering it again to the table. “The Bad Baron was behaving, well, badly. He was treatin’ people badly and taking their flocks
and frightening children. Thas why they called him the Bad Baron, you know.”

  “Of course. Go on.”

  “That was until…” He paused dramatically. “King Arthur ’imself came to put a stop to his nonsense.”

  Jane locked gazes with Adam, and they shared an unspoken revelation. A king! And one who defied him! Thistlethwaite, meanwhile, resumed his story.

  “So, King Arthur fought the Bad Baron, he did. And he shoulda beaten the giant, but the giant knew magic.” He said that last word with wonder and waved his hands back and forth over each other. “Magic, I tell ya. He used the magic to capture Arthur. Then he said, ‘I’ll release you if you answer a riddle.’ Of course, bein’ that Arthur loved a good riddle, and bein’ that Arthur cared not for captivity, he agreed.”

  Thistlethwaite tried his empty glass again, frowned, and returned it to the table. He stared at it with disappointment. Adam nudged his shoulder.

  “What was the riddle, sir? What happened next?”

  Thistlethwaite peered at Adam with confusion before his eyes widened. “Oh, the riddle! Yes, yes. The riddle went thus. What is it that women most desire?”

  Adam glanced at Barlow with a wry grin. “If I knew the answer to that riddle, I would be a rich man indeed.”

  Barlow laughed. “Some things are unknowable, I’m afraid.”

  “Enough,” said Aunt Hester gently. “This woman most desires that the men remain silent so we may hear the rest of the story. As you were saying, Mr. Thistlethwaite.”

  “Yes, yes. As I was saying.” He paused. “What was I saying?”

  “The riddle,” said Jane sharply. “How did Arthur answer the riddle?”

  “Ah! The riddle. Yes. Arthur said that women most desire having their way.”

  Adam laughed. “I should have guessed as much. So obvious now.”

  Jane glared at him. “Shush. Our scholar is still speaking.”

  “Yes,” said Thistlethwaite. “Anyway, the Bad Baron was so impressed with Arthur’s riddle-solving that he amended his bad ways an’ became good. An’ so he lived out his days at Castle Hewen bein’ good. That’s it. That’s all I know about that subject. Do ya want to hear another subject?”