Lady Fugitive (13 page)

"
War camp
? I know there's
been talk, but—"

"It's no longer talk. Your Southern
states have announced secession. Armies are being outfitted on both sides. I can't
let you undertake this act of folly. I'm taking you back to the village. You'll
write your family that it's impossible for you to come."

She clutched the back of a chair for
support. Nothing he said made any sense. Her countrymen, good Americans, warring
with one another? How could anyone have allowed the madness to go so far?

"I don't understand. Americans intent
on murdering each other…Boyd arranged the carriage that brought me here. Why
didn't he tell me about this warfare in America?"

"He knows how contrary you can be.
He also understands the full implications of the American unrest, and wired me
as soon as you left Crowshaven. I'd have done the same if it were Chrissandra."

"My father is
dying
, Morgan!
I won't simply go on as if I don't know or care! I'm his only child. My
stepmother may need my help with...funeral arrangements or running Papa's
business. My family needs me. Did you abandon your family when they needed
you?"

She took his long silence as tacit
agreement. "I'm sorry things didn't work out between us, but I have to
leave England. I was on my way out to reserve a cabin on the first available
passenger ship."

 "Passenger ship!" he snorted.
"You think there are lines of eager passengers vying for the chance to
sail to a battleground? You'll be lucky to find space on a merchantman."

Rachel gnawed at her lower lip.
"You mean a trade vessel?"

"I'll go to the bloody docks,"
he growled. "Can't send a woman to deal with the rats on London's
waterfront. How much are you offering to pay?"

"How much should it cost, do you
think?"

His scowl deepened. "
Should
is irrelevant. It will cost what the market will bear. If space is even
available, the price will be steep."

"Oh. I have no idea what would have
been the usual fare. Father paid when I sailed here last year. I've saved most
of my wages. Maybe my aunt can help."

"You remember our talk about how
all's connected? The situation overseas affects us here already. Cotton and
tobacco shipments are already disrupted, other exports will soon be delayed. I
can't believe you didn't realize this, Rachel."

She looked crestfallen, but suddenly she
brightened. "You're the Bargainer! The consummate man of trade with the
silver eyes and tongue. Surely you can do something."

"I couldn't get you to marry me."
She blushed and stared at her feet. He waited until she met his gaze to speak
again. "Few vessels will be making the crossing. Fewer yet with captains
willing to risk passengers. You may have no choice but to remain here. I can't
promise a miracle."

"You know people in trade and
commerce. You must have some useful connections. If you care for me, help me
get home. For my father's sake."

"How is it that females will so
eagerly use a man's emotions against him?" He turned his back to her.
"Bearing tenderness for you, I'm expected to aid you in the very thing
that will exile you from my life. What do I gain by helping you? Nothing. I'm a
man of trade, Rachel. I don't enter negotiations without seeing an opportunity
to better my position. In this instance, I stand to lose what's most important.
You can't even offer a high fee or special favor to a ship's master. You give
me naught to bargain
with
."

"I told you, I've got money back in
America. I'll pay you; repay whatever passage costs plus something for your
efforts."

"I'm expected to endure months of
waiting to see if you keep your word on that? You claim to always repay your
debts, but a wise man of trade doesn't take promises from someone he's never
dealt with before."

She swallowed hard. He knew they were
alone in the house. "We could go upstairs to my bedchamber." She
turned beet red as he pierced her with a meaningful look. She stammered out the
rest. "I can give you some money now, the rest when I get home."

His harsh laughter stung. "Once
again, predictable. A woman with nothing else to offer comes to her own flesh
sooner or later. Tempting, but that would provide me temporary solace at best.
And should the experience be as...intense as I believe it might be, I would
regret all the more my role in helping you leave England."

"Morgan, I need help! Why won't you
be a gentleman about this?"

"Gentlemen are usually men of
leisure with more social manners than common sense. I'm not of that ilk. Nonetheless,
I'll arrange your passage—on one condition. You must agree to obey my decisions
regarding your personal safety. You challenge me at every opportunity,
Colonial. Not this time. Agree to obey my instructions and not quarrel about whatever
arrangements I'm able to make, or I'll leave you to solve your own
dilemma."

"I think you're purposely trying to
frighten me so I'll stay here."

"Liar, am I?" He strode
quickly to the door. "Why not take a look at the London paper?" He
retrieved it from the stoop and showed her front-page stories about the unrest
in America. "You can go to the docks, but have you my experience in
dealing with merchants and traders? Will you know a trustworthy captain by his
outward appearance?
It's only your life
you risk, Rachel."

She recalled the hours Morgan spent
reading, his visits to the pub and the inn when he talked with farmers and
tradesmen, thought about his knowledge of world-wide events and business.
Finally she spoke. "I accept your terms. Arrange passage however you can
and I'll repay you when I get home. I promise, Morgan. I'll trust your judgment
as to what's best."

"Indeed? You didn't about marrying
me. You meant to leave without so much as a backward glance."

"That's unfair and you know it.
This couldn't be helped."

"Almost conveniently."

Her dark eyes flashed. "Are you
suggesting I fabricated this story about my father? Why would I? I didn't need
your permission to leave Crowshaven, Morgan. I might have gone back home any
time I pleased."

"True, and who am I to argue? Only
your employer, your landlord, and the man who asked you to be his wife! You say
I think of naught but myself and my own interests. When did you consider me in
this?"

"I wasn't running away from you,
Morgan," Rachel ground out. In another minute she would spill everything,
just to see the horror in his eyes and shut him up.

"Perhaps not, but that hardly
changes the outcome, does it? Stay here. I'll be back as soon as I can."

It was dusk when he returned. Violet
retreated upstairs to her bedchamber, leaving the two young people alone.

"I bartered for a small cabin on a
cargo vessel," Morgan announced. "The captain wasn't pleased at the
prospect of a woman aboard, but my promise she'd be in weeds allayed his fears
somewhat. I didn't mention those same garments proved quite enticing to me."

She was really going home! It was
difficult to speak around the painful lump in her throat. "Thank you. I'll
never forget your help today."

"I've been thinking, Rachel. I may
travel to the States on business myself in future. I could call on you
there."

"Your life is here in England. You
can't court someone across the Atlantic. And America's immense, teeming with
people. The chances for a rendezvous are slim at best. I'm sorry, but it's best
this…whatever our relationship has become…be over."

"So there's no point in asking you
to come back once your family crisis is resolved?"

"I have no idea when that might be.
There's...it's complicated. I can't promise anything beyond repayment for my
passage. Please tell me how much I owe you."

"Damn it, Rachel, I don't want
money from you! I—" He stopped until she met his eyes. "I wanted a
life with you. I brought you something." He pushed a small box into her
hands.

"No, please take it back," she
whispered. "I can't accept a gift under these circumstances."

His fingers closed around hers.
"It's just a modest token, love. To remind you of our time together.
Unless you're feverishly anxious to forget me."

A teardrop coursed down one cheek, but
Rachel fought to ignore it and how her heart was wrenching in her chest.
"Lord in heaven, I don't want to forget you. But I can't take anything
beyond the help you've given me. That's a precious gift in itself, knowing how
you feel."

"You don't wholeheartedly share
those feelings, though," he stated as he accepted the box she pushed back
at him. "Or perhaps you've take Somersdale's word over mine about
fidelity."

"It doesn't matter now."

"It does to me. I offered you a
future, my name—things I've never offered another woman. Wily females clawed to
get what I would freely give to you. Perhaps you enjoy trampling on my
spirit."

"That's simply not true."
Rachel stared into his eyes, willing him to read what she didn't dare say.
"I never set out to hurt you or let things develop as they have. Neither
of us planned for this. It just happened...to the wrong people at the wrong
time."

He headed to the door. "Aye. Go
home, Colonial. Remember our bargain. No complaints about your tiny cabin, or
you'll be left at the docks. Good luck with your father." He paused before
gripping the doorknob. "May the next man to kiss you drive some warmth
into your icy little heart."

She knew his pride was nettled, knew
he'd said those words purposely to lash out because she'd hurt him. She
shouldn't listen, it was only wounded pride talking. Yet she found her temper
rising.

"Thank you. And may I be the last
woman to ever kiss you. I'll write from Philadelphia, and I expect you to name
a sum. I'm determined to repay you for my passage. I'll never forget you, but
neither will I spend the rest of my life beholden to you."

He gave a sarcastic laugh. "You
don't write to men, remember? You insisted you'd never written a man in your
life."

Her fate was too much near the surface
of her thoughts. "I've never had my hair turn gray, bounced a baby on my
knee, or been arrested, either. Doesn't mean I never will."

Rachel sat on the bunk glancing about
the ship's cabin. The entire space wasn't much more than a bunk and a table
with room to walk in between. She guessed the cabin's former occupant must have
been a large man. The bunk was fairly wide.

The captain introduced himself as
Haversham. He pointed out the extra barrels of fresh water, small coal stove
with its metal stack jutting through the ceiling, and bed curtains that had
been hung up across the bunk. A tin bathtub was stowed beneath the bunk. An
iron bolt had been installed on the inside of the cabin's door. All at Morgan's
request. She was more than mildly surprised. Morgan had been very specific
about creature comforts. The captain cleared his throat. "Was told you'd
be wearin' black. Even after we weigh anchor?"

"Yes. I'd just come out of mourning
for my late husband when I learned my father's gravely ill. That's why I have
to get home. Sometimes it seems I'll be wearing black for the rest of my life. How
long to reach New York?"

"Month or so, dependin' on
weather." Two deckhands delivered her trunk. The captain watched as they
set down the luggage and stared at the cabin's new occupant. "Wasn't fond
of the notion of a lady aboard, but your man's—"

"Very persuasive," Rachel
supplied. "I know. I appreciate this, Captain. What did Mr. Tremayne pay
for my passage?"

"Agreed not to discuss that. We'll
be out 'fore tide changes." With that gruff response, Haversham left her
to her musings.

An uncertain future loomed ahead once
more, just as it had when she'd boarded the covered wagon to head down the
Oregon trail. This time it was more daunting than she'd let herself admit. She
could be going home to help nurse Jeremiah back to a semblance of health. She
could be returning for his funeral. She might end up facing a trial and prison.
But she refused to contemplate that possibility. If she did, she might end up
jumping overboard.

A tattered blanket and thin coverlet had
been provided on the bunk. She pulled out her quilt and smoothed it atop the
covers. That small gesture made her feel better. The colorful quilt lent a
bright cheer to the otherwise depressingly dingy cabin.

"It makes the room," announced
a deep voice from the doorway. Her heart leaped into her throat.

"Morgan!"

She threw herself into his arms. "I
thought you'd left for Crowshaven by now. I'm so glad you came to see me off. I
find I'm rather nervous about this crossing."

"Are you, Colonial?"

"Maybe it was those tales you
painted or the captain's manner. He's not exactly sociable." Morgan gently
unwrapped her arms from his neck and began checking the cabin.

"He's a man of his word, which is
more important. He's had the place cleaned up nicely."