Shanna (35 page)

“Must I ever woo you, Shanna, as if you were some untainted virgin child, destroying your fortress stone by stone, tearing down your walls of resistance until you yield to that which is inevitable? You plead widowhood so dearly and then surrender to me with a passion that rends the roots of my very sanity.”

Beneath his touch Shanna nearly quaked. His finger traveled across her, searing the ends of her nerves until she
ached to be drawn to him. Her lips were parted with her rapid breathing, her eyes half-closed as his face drew near. She waited in anticipation of his kiss. Then his finger dipped again into the water and touched her nose, leaving a large drop trembling at its tip.

Ruark straightened and stood back a pace, chuckling at the bemusement in her face. Shanna struggled to raise herself in the tub and thrusting out her bottom lip, huffed the droplet from the end of her nose. When finally she sat upright, she glared at him and spoke half chiding, half ruefully.

“You're a beast, Ruark Beauchamp.”

“Aye, love, a beast”

“A dragon! One of the most irksome sort.”

“Aye, love, a dragon.”

Shanna stared at him, then a delicious grin broke upon her lips. “And I am a witch.”

“Aye, love, a witch.” His smile was slightly broader.

“And I will someday take your heart from you.”

“That, love, you already have.”

Shanna lowered her eyes, at once confused and embarrassed.

“Come, witch.” Ruark's voice was soft but rich with laughter. “Out of your kettle and dry yourself.”

Handing her the towel, Ruark waited close beside the tub. Beneath his warm regard, Shanna rose and wrapped the linen securely about her, tucking the end down between her breasts. Casually he offered his hand to assist her in stepping from the bath. He followed her to the dressing table, warmly admiring the gentle swing of her hips beneath the linen cloth.

“Why were you looking for me, my love?” Ruark inquired, meeting her eyes in the mirror as she brushed out her long hair.

Remembering Jezebel, Shanna turned excitedly and caught his thin fingers. “Oh, Ruark, Captain Beauchamp has given me the most marvelous gift A beautiful mare, but she's been abused and needs attention.”

Ruark's eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Abused?”

“Captain Roberts said there was a storm at sea and she was tossed about dreadfully. I instructed the stable boy to do what he could until you came.” The blue-green
eyes begged him. “Oh, Ruark, you will see her made better, won't you—for me—please.”

Ruark stretched out his free hand to stroke the gilded locks, and his eyes were soft and caressing. “Do you like her so much, Shanna?”

“Aye, Ruark, I do. Very much.”

“I will do what I can for her,” he smiled. “You know that I am your most ardent slave.”

Shanna tossed away his hand in rebuff of his tender gibe and faced the mirror again. “What if you were free?” she questioned under his perusal. “Would you say me yea or nay? Would you be gone from here, seeking your fortune somewhere else?”

“What great treasures can tear me from your side, my love?” he spoke in a teasing vein as he played with a captured curl. “Would I ever leave you? What madness would see me to that end? Ah love, do you not ken?” His eyes glowed into hers. “You are my treasure, the rare jewel of my desires.”

Shanna pouted, throwing the brush aside. “You jest, Ruark, and I would know the truth.”

“The truth, milady?” Ruark swept a bow before her mirrored image then grinned. “Milady should herself remember the vows spoken before the altar. I am pledged to you until my dying breath.”

Flinging her lustrous mane with a flick of her arm, Shanna flounced off the velvet bench and strode across the room beneath his regard. She was not unaware of the effect her nearly naked state had on him. The linen towel was very accommodating, meagerly covering her breasts and displaying the full length of her long, shapely legs for his pleasure. Her movements were slow and languid, graceful and flowing, as she punished him severely for his impertinence in reminding her of her vows.

“How you love to taunt me about that. You smirk and posture in my chambers as if you owned more in this world than that foolish garb you use to cover your loins.”

“If I be a pauper, madam, then you are indeed a pauper's wife,” Ruark pointed out with a chuckle.

“You're a rutting rake who uses any flimsy pretext to invade my rooms,” Shanna retorted. “And to silence you I must submit lest I find my secret prated about like com
mon knowledge. There is a name for your, sir—a blackguard. One who would use a lady so is not worthy to be hanged.”

Ruark paced forward with measured tread, a slow, hypnotic grin stretching across his lips. Shanna backed away, aware of his stalking her, and tried to keep the distance between them open.

“Madam, I must admit I would seek you out on any excuse. But a rutting rake? Surely my life of late should be compared to something more monkish.”

“Ha!” Shanna scoffed. She gasped and twisted away as he lunged forward. Ruark's sweeping arm caught nothing more than the air, though the fragrance of her warm body and the scent of her dampened hair filled his nostrils and clouded his mind. He was undaunted and came after her. Attempting to evade him, Shanna darted behind the long chaise, trailing behind a fluid sound of musical laughter not unlike the chuckling burble of a swift mountain brook. Safe for the moment with the lounge between them, Shanna made a comic face at him, but her eyes spoke volumes as they sparkled in coquettish witchery, half challenging, half beckoning him.

His eyes flared in answer as he stepped onto the chaise, showing her that it formed no barrier between them. Giggling, Shanna retreated behind a small, marble-topped table, seeking whatever shelter it might offer her.

“Ruark, control yourself,” she admonished and tried to sound stern. “I would have this out once and for all.”

“Oh, we will have it out, madam,” he assured her and grasped the edge of the table, moving it aside and proving it no obstacle to his advance.

The wall halted Shanna's retreat, and she glanced around frantically. To her left was the bed. Certainly no haven there. To her right, screened by the silken draperies, were the open doors to her balcony.

Ruark was as quick, and his hand caught the top of the towel, then the curtains were flung into his face. When the drapes stilled, he found himself holding what he had caught, the empty towel. He almost gloated as he mused on Shanna's consternation at being trapped naked on the open balcony. A small, furtive movement at the far end of the draperies caught his eye, and he cautiously took a
place there to capture her should she try to reenter. He had no more than settled in his stance when the silk billowed heavily where he had stood only a moment before. With a quick flash of bare skin Shanna ran in, raced to the bed, threw herself upon it, rolled, and came to her feet on the far side with the gown in her hand. She thrust her arms high, letting the garment fall down over her head and with a quick wiggle slipped her arms free again. The shortened gown caught on her bosom, and she snatched it down, letting it fall. But its flight downward was halted, for Ruark's hands already rested on her waist. He pressed her naked hips against him, letting her feel the rising fullness of his manhood against her.

Of a sudden their playfulness was gone. Their eyes were locked together, and their pulses quickened. Ruark's head lowered as her arms came around his neck, and their lips joined their bodies in a mutual, crushing embrace that forged them together and plucked them as one into a private world of consuming passion. Time stood still, and the moment seemed to drag blissfully on—until it shattered like a crystal goblet with a sudden knocking at her chamber door.

“Shanna?” Orlan Trahern's question came softly. “Are you awake, child?”

Her voice was thick and husky with what might have been sleep as she replied, snatching away from Ruark, “One moment please, papa.”

Shanna cast her eyes wildly about the room as if seeking some escape from this predicament Ruark rested his hand upon her shoulder and with a finger to his lips, bid her to silence. He pointed to the bed, and with his hand to her rump pushed her toward it. When Shanna turned to stare at him again, he was gone. Like a soundless rush of wind he had left the room. The drapes stilled after his passing, and Shanna settled herself upon the bed, pulling the covers high up under her chin.

“Come in, papa,” she called.

Shanna waited, listening to the click of the latch and her father's steps in the outer sitting room. Then in horror she realized Ruark's hat and shirt were still on the foot of her bed. Quickly she snatched them beneath the sheets
and when the squire entered the bedchamber, Shanna had retrieved the covers under her chin.

“Good evening, child.” He tried to soften his usually gruff voice. “I trust I have not disturbed you unduly.”

“No, papa.” She gave a trembling yawn and stated truthfully. “I was not really asleep.”

The elder Trahern patted the edge of the bed then lowered his bulk upon it as Shanna moved over, making room for him to sit. The squire plucked a grape from a bedside dish and chewed on it for a thoughtful moment.

“You seem to enjoy being home again,” he half questioned almost hesitantly.

“Most surely, papa,” Shanna reassured him with a wide smile. For the present she seemed on safe ground. “I'm afraid that, like you. I was never meant to prance and posture in the courts, and I value the gentler ways and freedom of this island much more than pomp and splendor.”

Orlan's chest rumbled with his version of a chuckle, and he reached out a huge paw to cover her dainty hand. “I never could stand those milk-white maids with their mincing ways, and like your mother you are more beautiful with the color of the sun on your cheek and in your hair. Indeed, in my eyes you grow more lovely with each passing day. And I have found to my surprise that you have a mind and a will of your own. But there is that which I cannot explain. There is almost a wifely manner about you lately.”

Shanna blushed and lowered her eyes, suddenly afraid that he might guess the truth. What had Ruark done to her that even her father could see the difference? To herself she was the same as she had always been, and it came as something of a shock that anyone would see her changed.

“Do not worry, papa.” Shanna wondered if Ruark had left the balcony or still lingered there. “ Tis quite unlikely that my husband could have affected me much in our brief days together.”

Her father fixed her with a baleful eye. “Do you know that you have affected Sir Gaylord sorely?”

Shanna froze.

“He has been mewling about all afternoon, and finally
after you left the table, he made so bold as to petition me for your hand.” Orlan read the sudden startled look in Shanna's eyes and hurried to allay her fears. “I told him the first condition he must meet was to win your approval. So do not fret, daughter. I promised your mother that I would find you a worthy husband, and I shall not yield on that account”

Then it was Trahern's time to lower his eyes, and he rubbed his palm awkwardly on a buckled shoe.

“There is something that troubles you, papa?” Shanna asked in awe, for she had never seen her father so much at odds before.

“Aye, much that has troubled me for some time.”

Shanna's heart went out to this large man whose words came with painful slowness.

“I have for my own ends brought upon you some pain and sorrow. This was never my intent” He looked straight at her, and his shoulders seemed to hunch about his thick neck. “I am old, Shanna, child, and getting older.” He raised a hand to still her protest. “I have a strong need to see my dynasty continued with a flock of bouncing babes.” The chuckle rumbled again. “A dozen or so if you would meet my mark. But I am moved to believe that whatever wisdom guides our fates will see to that in all good time. I defer to your choice, as I have found no man worthy of your hand. I will press the matter no further, and I bid you seek out your husband wherever you would find him.”

“I understand, papa.” Shanna spoke with love heavy in her heart. “And I thank you very much for your understanding.”

For a long moment Trahern stared at his daughter and then gave a single, loud sniff before he rose to stand where his face would be hidden in the dark shadow.

“Enough of this chatter,” he said gruffly. “I've kept you awake beyond your hour.”

The minute dragged out until Shanna spoke, her voice tiny like a small child's.

“Goodnight, papa.” And as Trahern turned to leave, he barely heard her continue. “I love you.”

There was no answer, only another loud snort before
his footsteps hastened through the sitting room and the door closed gently behind him.

Shanna stared in the shadows, her eyes unusually moist, her mind lost within itself. It was a long time before she lifted her gaze and found Ruark standing at the foot of her bed, gazing down at her, an odd half smile twisting his lips.

“You heard?” Her inquiry was barely audible.

“Aye, love.”

Shanna sat up in bed and hugged her knees, resting her head upon them. Wistfully she sighed, “I never realized he was so lonely.”

It was a giant step from self-centered youth into caring adulthood and awareness of others. The transition was great and painful, and Ruark remained silent, letting her take it at her own speed. Shanna weltered in the depths of her new-found maturity. It was a new experience and not all unpleasant She was assured her father loved her, and that knowledge warmed her heart, yet beneath it burned the memories of harsh arguments and the sting of his angered words spurring on her own stubborn willfulness. Her vision of a handsome lord kneeling to beg her hand was suddenly trite and childish. Beneath the attack of reality, it faded slowly from her mind. A blur of faces flew before her mind, hauntingly vague and nondescript. They all faded before the memory of her father sitting at her bedside, lonely and apologetic. His tirades had only stirred her determination the more, but this almost humble declaration bound her more firmly to his desires.