Shanna (67 page)

A toast to the newlyweds broke her reverie, and Shanna turned as everyone around them rose to their feet, lifting their glasses high, and quickly followed suit. It was a prelude for the merrymakers to escort the blissful pair to their cottage, a procession which wandered through the streets as a moving celebration. Shanna found herself laughing again, though at times she cringed at the drunken
humor of the sailors, which abused the imagination but elicited squealing giggles from the virginal maids.

It was almost a relief when the party began to disperse and Ruark took her back to her father. The carriage was brought, and Shanna was properly seated and left as a search began for Hergus. When the group was formed, complete with Hergus and Gaylord, Shanna was still in her place, her shawl neatly folded and held against her breast, both arms wrapped securely about it The smile on her face reminded one of a cat well fed at the cost of a flock of canaries. Thus she sat, giving almost no heed as Ruark and Hergus crowded in on either side of her, leaving Sir Gaylord a choice of sharing the footman's bench or a long, lonely walk. Seeing the knight's dilemma, Pitney relented with a smile and sliding tightly against Trahern, causing the squire to give a disgruntled snort, Pitney patted the narrow space beside him in invitation. Gaylord sighed. He was not about to walk or to share the seat with a servant and had little choice but to wedge himself in. It was only casually noted by the others that Pitney's huge elbow rested against the knight's ribs, and it was not until the ride commenced that Gaylord, with each bump in the road, was given to sudden abrupt grunts as if he were pained.

Once at the manor, Shanna preceded Hergus up the stairs, and it was not until the door of her chambers was closed behind them that Shanna carefully laid the shawl on the bed and unfolded it to reveal an unopened bottle of champagne. Hergus was taken aback and gaped at her mistress, thinking for sure the lass had taken leave of her senses.

“Now what do ye intend to do with that, miss? I be believing ye've had enough of spirits, seeing how ye were flaunting yer bondsman beneath the noses of every moony-eyed twit who's set their sights on him. And there yer pa was, too! It ye think the squire is an addlepated old man and blind to all yer shenanigans, then ye be lacking the wits I was thinking ye had.”

“Oh, I don't think that,” Shanna declared with a laugh and went searching for glasses in the sitting room. “'Tis just that I've come out of mourning, and it seems only fitting to celebrate.”

“What do ye mean, mourning?” Hergus called after her in bemusement. “I never knew ye to care overly much for Milly, nor even that the two of ye got along.” The maid shrugged and commented much to herself, “Mostly 'cause the little chit, God rest her soul, had it in her mind to be envious of ye. If that Abe Hawkins wouldna taken himself to drinking his life away, she and her ma coulda had a lot more. But then, he hasna ever done an honest day's work.”

“'Tis not for Milly.” Shanna came to stand in the doorway with two sherry glasses she had found. She dipped into a low curtsy that made her printed taffeta skirts billow out wide around her. “The widow is no more. I've come out of mourning.”

Hergus grunted derisively. “Ye were never married long enough to even consider yerself properly wed. The least Mister Beauchamp coulda done was to live long enough to put a babe in yer belly. Had he done so, I doubt ye'd be fooling 'round now with Mister Ruark.” She sighed wearily. “But I suppose if he had lived longer, it woulda been just the luck for himself to be without a fertile seed to give ye.”

Abruptly Shanna set aside the glasses, suddenly feeling as if she had, indeed, imbibed too much. She thrust the champagne from her sight, burying it beneath a pillow on her chaise. Observing her, Hergus was inclined to worry that she really had gone daft.

“I'd best get ye ready for bed. I hear Mister Ruark coming up the stairs, and I've had me say without letting him hear me.” Hergus shucked the taffeta gown from her mistress, leaving the delicate chemise for modesty as that seemed the girl's wont lately. “Come to the dressing table and I'll brush out yer hair, and then I'll leave ye.”

It was a matter soon done. The gilded tresses spread in thick waves of silk over Shanna's bare shoulders before the woman took herself from the chambers. Alone now, Shanna stared at her reflection, that image of soft woman, creamy skin and thinly clad breasts, white shoulders and wistful countenance. Ruark's words of the evening echoed in her brain, and she could almost see herself standing alone on a hill, ignoring the plaintive cry behind her as she searched hard and fast for her knight in armor. A
fickle dream to want something not worth the wanting. She could have Sir Gaylord in a trice, but even now she shuddered in revulsion at the thought of having to submit to his bungling caresses. Much more did she yearn for the vibrant warmth of Ruark's hands upon her, softly titillating, weaving their spell.

The evening breeze stirred the draperies, and in the silence of the house she could hear Ruark moving about his room. Almost as one compelled, she went to the French doors, and like a wraith she was gone, not hearing the door of her sitting room open and close and footsteps coming across the floor.

“Yer pa just said he'll be up shortly—” Hergus blinked in surprise at the now vacant bedchamber and gasped as the realization struck her. “Oh, me lord! She's gone to him again. And there's her pa coming!”

Stripped to the waist, Ruark leaned against the heavy footpost of his bed, his eyes like flaming golden brands as he watched Shanna saunter toward him, moving her hips with an undulating grace beneath the batiste garment. Her ripe breasts pressed wantonly against the gossamer confines, rousing his senses to full awakening. Her bare feet seemed to glide over the carpet, and her lips were bent upward in a totally wicked smile.

“My Captain Pirate Ruark, widow maker, virgin taker. Darkest of all dragons. You weave such a comely thread of words to ensnare an unwary maid. Now say me yea or nay. Was it some scaly beast who laid upon my virgin loins on a stormy winter's night? Nay, I would not think it. 'Twas some dark, handsome wooer who picked the plum but only nibbled the fruit before he vanished in the blackness. Was it some passion's flower he yearned to pluck that brought him to this isle, or some thirst for revenge upon that one who but sought to save herself from that hoary wretch of the dungeons then found, all too late, he was an enchanted lover. What dark dragon do I see before me? What of the raven locks and strong human arms to twine about me? Is it beast's blood flowing in your veins, my gallant cavalier, or the warm blood of man?”

His heated gaze seared her, and he beckoned with his words. “Come, Vixen, and I will show you.”

Shanna gave a deep, throaty laugh and placed her hands on his hard, flat belly, sliding them upward over his ribs and chest, caressingly, tauntingly, feeling the heavy thud of his heart beneath her palm.

“I perceive you are all too manly, my lord,” she purred as his hands came upon her waist. A low growl sounded deep in her, like a she-cat calling her mate. Slowly, deliberately, she leaned against him, first her hips and then the peaks of her thinly clad breasts, rousing his hot blood to boiling as the heat of her touched him.

“Shanna, Shanna,” Ruark rasped and folded her in his arms, crushing her to him and bending to cover her soft, reaching mouth with his.

A light gasp made him raise his eyes, and he saw Hergus standing shocked and still in the wide French doors where Shanna had passed but moments before. The woman had a hand over her mouth, and her eyes were wide, though whether from fear, horror, or surprise he could not tell. For Ruark it was like being drenched with icy water.

“We've got company,” he muttered and withdrew from the kiss, setting his hands to Shanna's ribs and moving her back a step. As she whirled in bemusement, he turned his back to the maid, since his tight breeches lent him nothing of concealment for his once raging desires. He snatched a robe from the armoire and hastily donned it as Shanna found her tongue with a fury.

“Hergus! Do you spy upon me? What is the meaning of this?”

The maid could only stutter, shamefaced and painfully aware of her mistress's meager garb. It was one thing to be alone with Shanna in the altogether, but another to see her nearly so in the presence of her lover. Hergus was a modest person, and her motherly fondness for Shanna made her embarrassment all the more excruciating.

“'Tis obvious you have no excuse for spying on me,” Shanna snapped, stamping her foot in outrage. Whirling angrily, she flounced to Ruark's bed where she threw back the coverlet and turned down the sheet The irate, nonwidow Beauchamp plumped her round bottom upon the soft feather tick and threw up a hand in disgust.

An amused smile twisted Ruark's lips as he began to fill his pipe. It was his most fervent desire of the moment
to join his wife on the bed, but there was yet the Scotswoman to deal with, and she seemed not to have the least intention of leaving.

“Mister Ruark,” Hergus groaned, a worried tone in her voice. “There is no time!” She wrung her hands in anguish and hurriedly came to him to whisper, “Squire Trahern said that he would himself come to see her safe abed.” The servant moaned in dismay. “And if the squire should find her here—Oh, Mister Ruark, 'twould be dreadful!”

Ruark looked up from lighting his pipe. “How long were you there listening?”

A red flush of color brightened the woman's cheeks, and her eyes fell to her twisting hands. “I didna come to spy, only to warn her that her pa is coming. I only just come. I wouldna lie to ye, Mister Ruark.”

“I know that, Hergus.”

“I wouldna speak a word of it.” Then she added quickly. “Or of anything else, sir. I think ye—”

She halted and stared past him in amazement. Following her gaze Ruark turned to see his wife curled like a child upon his bed, her dark lashes resting against her cheek in deep slumber. He set his pipe down and nodded to Hergus.

“Fold down her bed.”

As the maid willingly fled, Ruark crossed softly to the four-poster and carefully lifted Shanna. Feeling his arms close about her, she sighed like a soft kitten and snuggled to him, at once at ease and most content wherein she lay.

Shanna's own sheets were being tucked about her when footsteps sounded in the hall. Ruark quickly took his leave by way of the balcony, pausing outside in the darkness so that his own passage would not be noticed. He heard the door to Shanna's room open and then Hergus's voice, hushed and much relieved.

“She went out like a snuffed candle, sir. I was just putting away her clothes.”

Trahern's grunt sounded. “Good enough.” A long pause followed, then he said, “Hergus, have you seen much of a change in her of late?”

“Ah, n-nay, sir.” The maid's words stumbled slightly. “She's grown up a lot, that's for sure.”

“Aye, that is sure,” Trahern repeated thoughtfully. “I
wish her mother were here. My Georgiana was always better with the child than L Still, I have learned much these past few months.” His heavy sigh came soft and wistful. “Perhaps between the two of us we will yet see the best of all of it Good night, then.”

The door closed, and Ruark leaned back against the wall in relief. Hergus came close to the French doors and, spying him, marched out to stand before him.

“You're a fool, John Ruark. And you make a traitor of meself. The good squire trusts me to see what is best for the lass, and I warn ye now I canna twist me tongue around another lie.”

Ruark's frown was hidden in the shadow, but his tone bore the pain her words inflicted. “Lord willing, I shall not have to ask you again. There is, indeed, a time to live and a time to die, but sometimes it seems the time to live is far outweighed by the other. Have patience, Hergus. I can only swear to you that all I do and all I intend is for Shanna's good, for you see, Hergus,”—and his voice became a hoarse whisper—“I love the lass beyond all else.”

Hergus lowered her gaze as she struggled to maintain her anger and find a scorching answer. Then she realized she was alone.

Preparations approached the frenzied point as the sailing date neared, and the mill was readied for its first load of logs. Ruark was left to see to the final inspections, and this was his labor just days before the journey to the colonies was to be launched. With the overseers, he conducted an exacting last check, seeing that all bearings were well greased and all cogs, wheels, and walking beams were sturdy and set as directed. The huge water wheel was checked; it was perfectly balanced and turned with no more than the gentle pressure of a hand upon it. The new saw had been laid in place and awaited the first load of logs coming by wagon from the south plateau.

Ruark was well pleased with all of it. It was an accomplishment he took pride in. He dismissed the overseers, then others, then walked the flume back to the pond, carefully looking over the gates and bed as he went Everything was in readiness.

The seesawing heehaw of a mule higher up the embankment drew Ruark's attention. The first wagon driver had halted his load of logs on the road above the mill and made his way down afoot to be sure where they were to be dumped. The team he had left for the most part dozed in the shade, lazily swishing flies with their tails, except for Old Blue, the rear animal on the far side who brayed discontentedly, laying his ears alongside his head. Old Blue was his cantankerous old self even under Trahern's ownership. The squire had bested Mister Dunbar's offer, and Ruark chuckled as he wondered if Trahern was beginning to question his wisdom in purchasing the beast.

Ruark paused at the pond's edge, gazing out over the mirror-smooth water. All noises were subdued, and there was a tenseness in the air, a sense of expectancy, that in another moment would be crushed beneath the din of activity. The gates were ready to be opened, the logs ready to be dumped. It only awaited his signal.