Danice Allen (30 page)

It was a slow and gruesome … not to say extremely dirty … process. But eventually Julian was on his rump in the mud, with Jack pulled half on top of him and Sam pulled half on top of Jack. It was in this interesting position, while they each caught their breath and allowed themselves to savor the realization that no one was going to be compelled to meet their maker today and receive their eternal comeuppance, that Jack made a most interesting discovery.

Sam’s head and chest were resting against Jack’s chest. And beneath the layers of Sam’s clothes he could feel the boy’s heart hammering with relief. He could also feel the boy’s …
breasts.

There was no mistaking it. Two distinct outlines of soft, rounded femininity were pressed against Jack’s own flat masculine chest. Hiding beneath those ragtag clothes were curves decidedly female.

Sam was a girl.

Amanda had a sister.

Jack shook his head at the implications and couldn’t help a wry smile. Lord, was Amanda ever going to have her hands full with this little hoyden!

Amanda was pacing the floor in front of the fire, doing her Aunt Prissy impersonation by distractedly wringing her hands. She felt absolutely helpless waiting behind like some delicate flower while Jack was out in the cold, wet night chasing down Sam. But in her long skirts, Amanda felt she’d have been more of a risk than a help in running after Sam. She’d have probably fallen and broken her neck or some such freakish thing and simply made matters worse.

Lord Serling was putting himself to a great deal of trouble, too. Amanda was wondering what she’d have done without the two Montgomery men today and was already anticipating and depending on their usefulness and comforting assistance during the journey home.

Theo and Harley and Joe had joined her in the cottage, and they were all keeping a sober and silent vigil. Waiting was sheer misery.

Amanda was still trying to absorb the fact that she had a seventeen-year-old brother. She had been expecting a child of perhaps three years old and now had to hurriedly rearrange her thinking and reconsider strategies.

It would be much harder undoing the damage of seventeen years of neglect than three. Sam was almost a grown man, and although he had somehow scrambled into a little education—he apparently was able to read and at least write his name—his manners and speech were extremely vulgar and crude. He’d definitely have to be taught to comport himself differently. Amanda could only thank the stars above that Sam wasn’t a girl. A female raised so negligently would be impossible to redeem.

Amanda heard the dogs barking, the din growing ever closer. She hoped this meant Jack and Julian were returning with Sam in tow. She hurried to the door and flung it open. Coming up the steps were the three of them, arm in arm, Jack and Lord Serling on the outside holding up Sam. Immediately after they stepped over the threshold, Amanda quickly shut the door to exclude the dogs.

“Oh, Sam’s not hurt, is he?” Amanda exclaimed, rushing forward.

“Just exhausted,” Jack assured her. “As we all are,” he added ruefully.

“Nothing a hot bath and a clean bed won’t mend,” Lord Serling remarked as he helped Jack deposit Sam’s rag-doll form in a chair by the fire. He looked down at his soiled clothes and made a face of revulsion.

“Ye gods,” he said. “I don’t believe I’ve ever been so filthy in my life: Sorry, Theo, old man, but there’s nothing for it but to return to Prinstead for the third time tonight and rent rooms. There’s no longer any need to stay here … thank God … and that way we can all have baths and clean beds. You’ll be happy to know, Jack, I brought some of your clothes along so you can change.” He threw Jack a look that was both affectionate and disparaging. “Those togs look a trifle’ worse for wear.”

Jack leaned against the mantle and raked his hands through his damp hair. “You think of everything, don’t you, big brother?”

“I try,” Julian said dryly, then turned to Amanda and whispered, “I think Sam should have a bath before we go. A good way to warm up the undernourished little whelp, and, besides, I don’t think Sam’s had a bath in a fortnight … at least. Those clothes should be burned. In the meantime, Theo can set out the food and have it ready to feed the ragamuffin once all that grime’s been scrubbed off.”

“Look ’ere! Who’s callin’ who a ragamuffin?” Sam demanded to know. Till this outburst, Sam had been huddled miserably by the fire, his small hands extended toward the warm flames. Now he had turned and was glaring resentfully up at Julian, his belligerence apparently revived along with his body temperature.

“I’m calling you a ragamuffin,” said Julian, staring down his aquiline nose at the boy. “And a dirty one at that.”

“My lord! Don’t scold him,” said Amanda, rising to the defense of her pathetic charge. “He’s not been raised properly. He doesn’t know any better—”

“Don’t make excuses fer me, missy,” snarled the boy, taking Amanda by surprise. She looked down at her brother, with his golden mass of cropped curls skimming the edge of his coarse shirt, thinking he looked like one of heaven’s cherubs that had fallen from some celestial perch and ended up in a pigsty. Though he scowled at her, she was determined to believe that underneath that dirt was an angel’s apprentice.

“And don’t talk to your sister that way, brat,” Lord Serling ordered, “or Jack and I might regret that we saved your life tonight.”

This information demanded further explanation, and Amanda turned to Jack, who briefly and diffidently described what had occurred on the cliffs.

“Then I must thank you yet again, Jack,” Amanda said softly, stifling the urge to throw her arms around his neck and cover his dear face with kisses. “Not only did you save my life when the gun went off accidentally, but you saved Sam’s life, too. How will I ever thank you?”

Jack gave Amanda an eloquent look indicating that they both knew exactly how he’d like to be thanked. However, as they knew that such a gesture of gratitude also was impossible, Jack quickly averted his gaze and said modestly, “Sam and I’d both be over the cliff and washed out to sea by now if it weren’t for Julian. He caught my heels and pulled us to safety.”

Amanda turned to Lord Serling. “Then I have you to thank as well, my lord,” she said, smiling warmly. “How can I show my gratitude?”

Lord Serling raised a haughty brow. “It will be quite simple to show your gratitude to me, Miss Darlington,” he assured her. “All I ask is that you oversee the bathing of this troublesome sibling of yours so we can return to Prinstead as quickly as possible.” His aristocratic nostrils flared as he flicked a distasteful glance Sam’s way. “And remember to burn the clothes.”

Amanda’s brows knitted in a frown. “But what shall he wear, my lord? I saw no change of clothes in the bedchamber, and even if your or Jack’s clothes were here, they’d be far too large for the boy. We can’t very well bundle him up in sheeting and take him naked into Prinstead!”

“Sam’s a mite smaller than you, but you females have a way of altering your clothes to fit with a stitch here and a stitch there, don’t you?” Julian inquired.

“Now see ’ere!” bellowed Sam, “I’m hot wearin’ any fussy female finery!”

“Of course you aren’t,” Amanda agreed, staring at Lord Serling with a mixture of confusion and consternation. “I have no notion why his lordship is finding his amusement at your expense, Sam, but I’d appreciate an explanation from the gentleman.”

“I can explain, Amanda,” Jack offered with a sly grin as he pushed away from the mantel and stepped forward. “I thought I was the only one privy to Sam’s little secret, but once again I haven’t taken into account the acute perspicacity my brother’s known for.”

Amanda propped her fists on her hips and looked from one smug Montgomery brother to the other. “What are you babbling about?”

“Sam’s a girl,” Jack answered succinctly.

“What a bag of moonshine!” Amanda blurted. “I don’t believe you!”

“Oh, but it’s true,” Lord Serling assured her with a convincingly careless shrug. “Strip the little baggage for a bath and you’ll find definite proof beneath those flea-infested rags.”

Amanda shook her head disbelievingly and stared at Sam. “Sam, is … is this
true
? Are you really my sister instead of my brother?”

Sam made a noise of disgust, shoved her hands in her pockets, and kicked at some invisible object on the floor. Then she screwed her face into a pugnacious scowl and scornfully replied, “Bah! Who in their right mind would want to be a
girl.
On the island, I could be whoever I wanted, and I wanted to be a
Sam
, not a
Samantha!”

“Good lord,” Amanda said faintly, sinking into a chair Jack scooted behind her just in time.

Sam watched her sister’s reaction with a sullen fascination, then said sulkily, “Anyhow, Samantha’s a name for some simpering little chit. And, believe me, you’ll never make me into one of
those!”

Chapter 16

Following orders, Theo, Harley, and Joe fetched water, heated it up, and poured it into a misshapen tin tub they found in a dusty corner of the kitchen, covered with cobwebs. As there was no soap in the house, Amanda borrowed a bar she carried in her portmanteau when she traveled. The none-too-clean sheeting from the bed would have to do for drying Sam off after the bath, as there appeared to be no huckaback in the house set aside for bathing purposes.

Once all the preparations were finished, the gentlemen went outside: Theo, Harley, and Joe to tend to the horses, and Jack and Lord Serling to linger for the required amount of time in a neglected wilderness at the back of the house that used to be a garden. Since the tub was set in front of the fireplace in order to keep the bather as warm as possible, there was really no place in the house the men could go … except for the tiny bedchamber, which was obviously out of the question … and still preserve Sam’s modesty.

“There!” said Amanda with enthusiasm as soon as the door had closed behind the last male. “Now you can climb into that deliciously hot tub of water, Samantha. You’ll feel much more the thing once you’ve had a bath!”

But Sam, who had sat, silent and sullen, throughout the process of preparing the bath, looked suspiciously at the steaming water, turned up her nose, and said disdainfully, “You ain’t gettin’ me in
there.”

Amanda had been afraid something like this would happen. Obviously Sam wasn’t used to bathing regularly, but considering the amount of dried mud she was coated with … on top of the dirt that was already there … she’d hoped Sam would be cooperative.

“My dear, you can’t go into town covered in muck. Besides, you’ll feel much more comfortable cleaned up and wearing a proper garment.”

“If you mean that black dress you’ve draped yonder, I won’t put it on. I ain’t goin’ to no funeral, and I ain’t puttin’ on mournin’ for a pa what deserted me.” She folded her thin arms across her chest and lifted her pointed chin. “Likewise, I ain’t goin’ to town, and I ain’t takin’ a bath!”

“Samantha, don’t you want to make a good impression on your first trip off the island?” Amanda reasoned.

“My name is Sam,” Sam reminded her. “And fer your information, I been off the island plenty o’ times.”

“Indeed?” Amanda replied patiently, glancing at the tub and hoping the water wouldn’t cool too quickly. “Where did you go?”

“I snuck round Prinstead. You know those books in my room?” She looked smug. “I stole ‘em. And don’t tell me it’s a sin to steal. I already know that, ‘cause Grimshaw used to read me all about sin from the Bible every night.” Her narrow chest puffed with pride. “That’s how I learned to read. Grimshaw would read out loud and I’d follow along without her bein’ any the wiser. She wouldn’t teach me to read, ‘cause she said bastards don’t need to know nothin’. She said I was only here on earth ‘cause of sin … your pa and my ma’s sin.”

Amanda’s heart expanded painfully. “Sam, don’t talk that way. You aren’t—”

“Grimshaw, she used to beat me fer stealin’,” Sam continued matter-of-factly, “but I didn’t care ‘cause books was what helped me know there was a better place out there somewhere, and that maybe someday even
I
could have a better life, too.”

She grew thoughtful, staring off into the middle distance and probably remembering the fantasy world she’d created to keep her sanity. “I used to think all the time about runnin’ away, but I was afraid Grimshaw would find me and haul me back and make me sorry I’d ever left in the first place.” She shivered, whether from the cold mud coating her or the remembered dread of Grimshaw, Amanda wasn’t sure.

“I can understand your reasoning,” Amanda agreed softly. “But, tell me, why did you stay after Grimshaw left?”

Sam didn’t answer. She hung her head, set her jaw, and stared broodingly at her feet. But Amanda knew why she hadn’t left. She was afraid. And who could blame her? She’d never known anything beyond the boundaries of Thorney Island, except for brief, furtive forays into town, hiding and stealing to get her precious books. She didn’t know how to act around people, and she had no reason to expect them to be kind to her. Grimshaw certainly hadn’t been kind, and Grimshaw was the only human being she’d ever known.

Sam had been repeatedly told for seventeen years that she was a bastard, the product of sin, unwanted and practically a nonperson, undeserving of anyone’s love or even their passing interest. Of course, she’d be terrified to venture beyond the squalid safety of the only home she’d ever known.

While Grimshaw remained on the island, she’d been Sam’s keeper, and Sam had probably developed a strange sort of dependency on the old crone. Then, after Grimshaw left, she’d been trapped on the island by her own fear, forced to hunt or steal for her food and scrounge for the most basic necessities.

It made Amanda sick at heart to consider how wretched Samantha’s life had been as a result of a sanctimonious and cowardly decision made by their so-called respectable father all those years ago. She burned with indignation and an almost physically painful need to make things right, to undo the wrongs done to her sister.

But Sam had an innate pride and seemed to despise anything that remotely resembled pity. She was determined to refuse any help or accept any of the kindnesses Amanda was aching to shower her with.