Shanna (29 page)

“Madam Beauchamp!” he beamed, recovering himself. “What a lovely—” His eyes dipped to the high curves of her bosom displayed above her gown, and he stammered,
blushed, and collected himself once more. “Ah—home you have here.”

Conversation in the room ceased and thus having been announced, Shanna could no longer hesitate. Forcing a smile, she swept gracefully into the room, lightly resting her hands on the wide panniered skirt to keep it from swaying too much. She was a vision men struggled to grasp as reality, and it was all too obvious the junior officer of the
Sea Hawk
was smitten. He stumbled in a parody of a bow when she paused before him, then flushed with pleasure as she bestowed the brillance of her smile on him, ignoring his clumsiness. A long sigh escaped him as she turned to her father who had come across the room to greet her. Brushing aside the gawking young men who had come with their captain, Orlan Trahern was obviously filled with pride as he presented his daughter to them. Throughout the introductions, Shanna was aware of Nathanial watching her with a slow, steady regard and was puzzled at his frown as his junior officer slipped through the press of admirers to stand beside her. She was also conscious that Ralston's attention seemed more acute than usual, but she gave him little thought, not really caring what the man had on his mind.

The duties over, and secure on her father's arm, Shanna paused before the colonial captain.

“Sir, it quite bemuses me how we've come to have the same name. Have you kin in England, mayhap?”

Nathanial Beauchamp smiled, and the brown eyes twinkled their humor as he looked down at her. “Madam, I came by the name quite honestly as my parents gave it to me. What we shall really have to discuss is how
you
came by it. Of course, all Beauchamps are kin in one way or another. Though we've had our rogues, pirates, and a blackguard or two, the name seems to recur with amazing regularity.”

The corners of Shanna's mouth lifted impishly. “Your pardon, sir. I did not mean to pry. But should I not call you uncle, cousin, or some such?”

“Whatever suits your whim, madam,” Nathanial grinned. “But welcome to the family.”

Shanna nodded and laughed but dared press the matter no more, for her father was giving undue notice to
the exchange and appeared to treasure and enjoy each morsel of it.

The dinner passed with relative ease as Captain Beauchamp and his officers conversed with Trahern on the possibilities of trade between Los Camellos and the colonies. Ralston was not in favor of this exchange, and spoke boldly.

“What can you get there, sir, that England and Europe cannot give you better? The crown will not be too pleased with you taking your business elsewhere.”

The purser of the
Sea Hawk
snorted. “We pay good taxes to the crown, but hold it our right to trade where we choose. As long as the duty is met, who is to complain?”

Ralston's contempt was held to a sneer, but his tone was carefully polite as he spoke to Trahern. “Surely, sir, you cannot hope to gain much from trading with backwoods colonies.”

Edward Bailey, the first mate, sat forward in his chair. He was a short man, barely taller than Shanna, but broad add with brawny arms and shoulders. His short, stocky neck supported a face that was ruddy and almost cherubic behind an ever-present grin. His round, rosy cheeks never lost their vibrant hue, and when his ire was pricked, as it was now, they darkened even more.

“'Tis apparent ye've missed the colonies in yer travels, Mister Ralston, else ye'd be aware of the riches to be had. Why, in the northern climes they produce woolens and other goods, the likes of which would rival the best of England. We make a long rifle what can take the eye from a squirrel at a hundred paces. There be cordage and lumber mills along the southern coasts which provide quality cable, planks, and spars. The very ship we sail was made in Boston, and the likes of her has never touched the sea from another land.”

Trahern slid his chair back. “Your tales fascinate me, sir. I will have to look into this.”

With the signal that the dinner hour was at an end, the junior officer hastened to stand behind Shanna's chair, almost kicking his own over in his rush. As she leaned forward to rise, Shanna caught a brief glimpse of Captain Beauchamp's face and the heavy, pointed frown he
directed to his third mate. But when her eyes returned to scan the visage, it bore once more its gentle half smile. Had it only been vexation at the youth's clumsiness, Shanna wondered, or had the captain warned the lad away? At any rate, the young man limited further attentions to those of common courtesy and seemed much chastened.

The evening nearing an end, Shanna retired to her chambers, a sense of dissatisfaction wearing her mind raw. Finding no ease from her discontent, she sat silent before the dressing table while Hergus brushed out her hair. The maidservant sensed the pensive mood of her young mistress and held her tongue, realizing the effort Shanna had taken to avoid Ruark in the days past.

Dressed in a gown and heavy silk wrapper, Shanna paced the length of her rooms, empty now of Hergus and lit only by a candle. Her mind raced and settled on no single point Names pressed in upon her from every side, plaguing her with their questions.

Shanna Beauchamp? Madam Beauchamp? Captain Beauchamp? Nathanial Beauchamp? Ruark Beauchamp? John Ruark? Mistress Ruark Beauchamp? Beauchamp! Beauchamp! Beauchamp!

On and on the name rasped through her mind until, with a stifled cry of frustration, Shanna shook her head, wildly tossing the radiant mane about her. In search of clearer air, she stepped out onto the wide veranda and tried to walk away the goading doubts.

The night was gentle, warm, with a soft quality known only on the Caribbean Islands. High above the trees the moon flirted with white billowy clouds, kissing them until they glowed with its silvery light, then hiding its face behind their fleeting shoulders. Shanna wandered along the veranda, past the latticework that separated her balcony from those belonging to the other chambers. A face began to form in her mind's eye, and an amber gaze penetrated the night. Shanna groaned within herself.

Ruark Beauchamp, dragon of her dreams, nightmare of her waking hours, why did he haunt her so? Before she had sought him out in the dungeon, she was frivolous
and witty, even gay, but now she wandered listless and dreamy like a moonstruck maiden.

Shanna stared out across the shadow-mottled lawns.

“Ruark Beauchamp,” her whisper fell as soft as a wispy breeze, “are you there in the dark? What spell have you cast upon me? I feel your presence near me, and it touches me boldly. Must my passions hunger so when my mind tells me nay?”

Shanna leaned over the rail and tried to control her suddenly vivid imagination. “What spell has this man cast upon me?” she wondered. “Why can't I break free and see my own ends out? I feel entrapped, as if I were his slave. Even now, he's sitting in the cottage, mumbling some enchantment to bring me to his side. Is he warlock or wizard that I am bound to his demands? Nay, I shall not be! I cannot be!”

Drawing away from the balustrade, Shanna continued with her stroll, her eyes downcast, her mind occupied with musings.

Suddenly a dark shadow beside her moved, and she was engulfed in a cloud of fragrant smoke. Her heart fluttered into her throat.

Ruark! The name almost burst from her lips, but she choked it back.

“Your pardon, madam.” The deep, rich voice of Nathanial Beauchamp wore its concern heavily. “I did not mean to startle you. I was only taking a pipe in the open air.”

Shanna stared, trying to penetrate the dark shadow that hid his face. Her father had invited the captain to stay the night, but she thought little of him in her musings of Ruark.

“That smell—tobacco,” she spoke hesitantly. “My husband—used to—”

“A common enough habit, I suppose. They grow the stuff near my home. The Indians taught us to smoke it.”

“The Indians? Oh, you mean the savages.”

Nathanial chuckled, his voice rumbling easily. “Not all savages, madam.”

Shanna wondered how she would dare broach the subject that burned so in her mind. Deep in concentration, she started as his voice broke the lengthening silence.

“Your island is most beautiful, madam.” His hand with the pipe cradled in it came out in a brief span of moonlight, and the long stem swept to encompass the rolling hills beyond the trees then dipped to point toward the town. “Your father seems to have made the most of it.”

“Los Camellos.” Shanna murmured absently. “The camels, so the Spaniards called it.”

She turned to look directly into the shadows that surrounded him.

“Sir? There is a question I must ask you.”

“Your servant, madam.” He thrust the pipe into his mouth and puffed it alight, illuminating his features slightly.

Though her desire to know was strong, Shanna was at a loss as to how to frame her request. “I—I met my husband on a somewhat frivolous affair in London, and we were married only a few days later. We were together only a short while before he was—taken from me. I know naught of his family, or if he even had one. I would most dearly like to know if he has—I mean—left any—”

Her voice trailed off, and the pause grew strained as she struggled to find adequate words. It was he who answered her unspoken question.

“Madam Beauchamp, I can account for all my immediate family, and to my knowledge I have no cousins or distant kin by the name of Ruark Beauchamp.”

“Oh.” Her voice was small with her disappointment. “I had hoped—” She could not finish that statement either, for she did not know what she had hoped for.

“ Tis a widespread name, and though we Beauchamps can usually trace back to a common origin, I do not claim to know everyone by his given name. Perhaps there are some I am not acquainted with.”

“No matter, captain.” Shanna shrugged it all away with a sigh. “I am sorry to have troubled you with my impertinence.”

“No trouble, madam, and indeed, no impertinence.”

With his thumb, he tamped the coals into the bowl of his pipe. His hands were huge, and though they appeared to have the strength to squeeze a cannonball
in two, they were amazingly gentle, and the slim clay pipe seemed like a fragile bird between them.

“Tis my pleasure, madam, and be assured—to discourse with a woman on a moonlit night on a tropic isle can never be a trouble. And with you, Madam Beauchamp,” his tall shadow bowed briefly, “it has been a pleasure beyond compare.”

Shanna laughed and waved a hand toward her loose hair and dressing robe. “You are gallant, sir, to so grace my blighted appearance, but you have made my evening. I shall bid you goodnight, Captain Beauchamp.”

Nathanial paused for a moment before he answered. “Whatever the beginning or the end of it, I consider at this moment that you honor the name. Goodnight, Madam Beauchamp.”

Shanna was still musing upon his words when she realized the shadows surrounding her were empty. Without a sound or a stir of air, he was gone.

The early morning breezes swept through the intricate latticework, stirring the potted greenery in the informal dining room. The sea-freshened air brought with it the fragrance of jasmine which bloomed alongside the veranda, mingled with the tantalizing aroma of hot, glazed meats, bread, brewed coffee, and tangy fresh fruits that graced the table for the morning meal and presented to Captain Beauchamp as he paused in the doorway a most heavenly scent after long months of sea fare.

“Good morning, Squire Trahern.” Nathanial greeted.

Trahern turned from a copy of the
Whitehall Evening Post,
which he received in small bales from his ships. It was his only remaining link with London after years of separation.

“And a good morning to you, sir,” the older man returned jovially. “Sit and join me in a bite to eat” He beckoned Nathanial to take a chair beside him. “A poor thing to start the day on an empty belly, and I speak from experience, if you please.”

“Aye,” Nathanial chuckled, accepting a cup of steaming coffee from Milan. “Or a slab of salt meat ripe with age.”

Orlan Trahern gestured to the newspaper propped be
fore him. “Peacetime quickly separates the real merchants from the warmongers.” At the captain's raised brow, he continued. “Almost anyone can turn a tidy profit during a war, but only the good merchants manage to stay afloat when the country is at peace. Those who made their money skimming the king's barrels and shorting the navy's powder with sand cannot compete on an honest market”

“I shall yield to your wisdom on the matter.” Nathanial leaned back in his chair. “Treachery is dealt with harshly in the colonies, and, although a certain amount of caution is due, one rarely meets with a cheat”

Now it was Trahern who leaned back in his chair to watch the other. “Tell me more of this place, your colonies. The idea of going there fascinates me.”

The captain toyed with his cup for a moment before he spoke. “Our land is in the foothills of Virginia. Not so much settled as Williamsburg or Jamestown, but there is much to be said about it. Green rolling hills, forests for miles on end. The land is rich with opportunity for poor men and wealthy alike. My parents raised a family of three boys and twin girls in what most people would term an uncivilized land. In turn, each of us but the youngest lad, who is coming to a full seven-and-ten years next month, and one of the girls who is a score of summers old, have married and, God willing, will raise up their families with as much success. We have been called hearty, because we survived. Perhaps we are. But 'tis love and pride in our land that has made us so. If you could but see it, sir, I'm sure you'd understand.”

Trahern nodded thoughtfully. “I will come.” He thumped the table and laughed with his decision. “By damn, I will come and see it all.”

“I am glad, sir, but I doubt you will see it all.” Nathanial Beauchamp, too, was elated. “There is land beyond us as far as a man can walk in a year. I have been told of prairies like the sea where if a man does not mark his way he will become lost, for he can see naught but grass. There is a river to the west so wide it is a strain to see across and beasts the like of which have not been seen in any other part of the world. There is a strange deer, taller than a horse and with antlers like huge shovels.
I tell you, sir, there are wonders in the land that I cannot describe.”