Shanna (69 page)

Mister Bailey gave them no pause as Trahern opened
the missive and began to read it. Smiling broadly the mate turned to Shanna.

“The Beauchamps be anxious to see ye, mum. Everyone named the captain a liar when he tried ter say how ye looked. Course, he didn't come close ter doin' ye justice.”

Shanna was amused at the roundabout compliment and gave the flatterer her best smile.

“I shall have a talk with Captain Beauchamp at the first opportunity,” she chuckled. “I will not have my reputation so abused.”

“The letter reaffirms that Captain Beauchamp has left transport for us at Richmond. Mister Ruark has gone to see it ready and will meet us there,” Trahern stated and gave Shanna a sidelong regard. “I half expected the lad to leave the
Tempest
and seek his freedom.” At Shanna's astounded gasp, he shrugged. “
I
would have. I'd have signed over the schooner and taken my leave of bondage.” He chuckled in good humor, and his eyes twinkled at her. “I begin to wonder at his wisdom.”

Shanna presented her back angrily and refused to be further baited while Mister Bailey's face was a study in blankness. He cast a narrowed eye at the sky and tested the wind.

“Mister Ruark impressed me as a man of rare honor. Why, he could be a Beauchamp and not be found wanting.” As Shanna turned her head to look at him over her shoulders, he spoke to Captain Dundas. “Ye can set full sail and steer due westerly. We can make a good distance yet afore dark.”

The river became subtly more wild after they passed Williamsburg, and the banks more sparsely settled. Darkness descended, and the ship was anchored for the night Fog rolled down the river like a smothering blanket of wool, and soon the
Hampstead
was like a small universe suspended in time and space. Shanna could not have vouched that a world existed beyond the heavy grayness that swirled lazily against the sides of the ship. The rhythm of the open sea was gone, and small, erratic movements took place as the
Hampstead
strained
against her cables and surged on the errant swirls and currents of the river.

Shanna fought the loneliness of her cabin. A small stove spread some warmth, but the chill of the night soaked in. She missed the nearness of Ruark beside her in bed. Pensively she went to her sea chest and withdrew the music box. He had asked her to bring it along, and it was her closest link with him at the moment The box was heavy and sturdy, though the exterior gave little hint of it in the wealth of carvings, and it was well weighted to give resonance to the notes.

As she lifted the lid, the tinkling music filled the cabin with Ruark's presence. The song was one she had so often heard him whistling or singing. She hummed softly and closed her eyes as she remembered strong arms about her, golden eyes gazing down into hers, the smile that could taunt, anger, please or soothe, the warmth of him beside her, the rippling strength of his muscles as he labored in the sun or moved softly above her in the dark.

The last echo of the notes died in the stillness of the cabin. Shanna opened her eyes to find that an odd mistiness clouded her sight A long sigh slipped from her as she put the music box safely away.

There are fires, and then there are fires. Shanna blew out the lantern and snuggled beneath the down comforter and blankets, and the flame that warmed her was not the one in the stove.

“A day or two, my love,” she whispered in the darkness. “An eternity, yet as nothing.” Her choice of words came to her with full awareness, and tears welled up within her eyes. “Aye, my love! I do love you, Ruark Beauchamp, and you shall never have cause to doubt it again.”

The fog hung low on the water until the onshore breezes awoke to set it astirring. Then it drifted up to leave a pathway open beneath it, but still it clung reluctantly about the mastheads. Mists rose in streamers from the oily surface, and, as the ship began to awaken, Shanna was among the first on deck. Had it not been unseemly of a lady, she would have urged the men to
haste as they stumbled up from below and paused to rub sleep from their eyes.

After a light breakfast Shanna returned to the deck with her father, not willing to miss a thing of this new land. Both of them were enchanted with the endless variety of what they saw passing by. Trahern would stare in awe and mutter, “A merchant's dream. An untouched market”

Rich black soil lay bare on the river banks, and small, rounded hills began to thrust upward showing occasional sheer bluffs of stone above the thick forest which came to the water's edge. Houses appeared, some of red brick, large enough to speak of fortunes sheltered within. The river was still more than a mile wide, but the current had stiffened. The morning was not yet gone when the ship rounded a point and the James swept away to the larboard. Henceforth it took a more torturous course, and the crew was worked to their limits. The sails were constantly in need of trimming, letting out, or taking in, and several times it was necessary to tack across the width of the river to make headway.

Shanna was as bright and cheerful as the day was fitful and stormy. She gave herself to waving when persons were sighted along the bank and held her gay spirit even when Gaylord ventured upon the deck in a gloomy mood and bewailed the weather in these climes. But it was much to the relief of all that he shivered in his foxtrimmed cloak and soon took himself back to the nether regions of the ship.

Shanna's day was only dimmed when the night drew nigh and Mister Bailey ordered the anchors cast out, though Richmond was but some twenty-odd miles away. The man was insistent.

“'Tis not wise to ply the river at night,” he asserted. “A stray current could send ye fast aground, and snags cannot be seen. Better to wait the darkness out and be sure of arriving.”

The wind keened through the rigging the next morning and drove a stinging spray with it, keeping even Shanna inside. She paced the narrow confines of her cabin, suddenly unsure of her self-control. How could she keep from flinging herself into Ruark's arms in a rush of joy?
She would have to reach deep for whatever strength she could muster. A wrong step now could send him to the gallows.

The door burst open, and a gust of wind swept in, bringing Pitney with it He rubbed his hands and warmed them at the small pot-bellied stove before he spoke.

“We're almost there. Only a mile or two more. The wind is nigh dead abeam, and the current is strong, but another half-hour should see us tying up.”

Shanna drew a deep breath as the battle raging in her breast blossomed to a din near to bursting. Taking her emotions in a firm grip, she nodded calmly. After Pitney and her father had left for the upper decks, she followed in their wake, outwardly docile.

Crewmen were swarming in the rigging to secure the wind-wild sails as the
Hampstead
was warped closer to the landing. No sooner was the gangway opened and the plank lowered than Ruark came leaping aboard, a dripping cloak whipping about his boot tops. Runnels of rain trickled from his broad-brimmed hat as he thrust his hand toward Trahern and laughed ruefully.

“'Tis a poor day for a welcome, but there are places where the rain is considered a good omen.”

“And I trust 'twill be,” Trahern rumbled and broached what had of late become his favorite subject. “By God, Mister Ruark, this land of yours is a veritable warehouse of treasure. I have never seen such untapped riches just waiting”—he chuckled with anticipating relish—“for the touch of a master merchant to bring them alive.”

Ruark turned and waved his arm, bringing two carriages and a covered wagon alongside the ship before he gripped Pitney's hand in welcome.

“'Tis much on my mind, lad,” the huge man rumbled, licking his lips, “that a good tankard o' ale would warm me innards. Could it be that your colonials have a dramshop where a man might ease a terrible thirst?”

“Aye,” Ruark laughed and pointed off in the direction of the dock street. “The Ferry Port, that whitewashed building there, has a keg of England's best on tap. Tell the keeper that John Ruark will buy the first” Pitney left with a haste that gave credence to his plea
and made Gaylord step quickly from the plank, else be brushed aside onto the cobbled jetty. The knight glared haughtily at the broad back but Pitney gave no pause or notice. Gaylord continued on his way toward the shipping office to claim the baggage he had sent ahead on the English frigate.

Ralston had also departed the ship, and for a moment Ruark watched as the thin agent stalked across the pier, the hem of his cloak whipping about his knobby calves.

Not so much as a glance had Ruark given Shanna, who waited demurely several paces behind her father. But now he faced her and his eyes told her everything, Her hand trembled as it hid itself in the encompassing warmth of his.

“Shanna—Madam Beauchamp.” His voice was only slightly strained and husky. “You have provided the brightest moment in my day.” As she stared, his lips moved further in soundless vow. “I love you.”

The ache in Shanna'a throat was almost unbearable as she gave him a casual smile and replied, “Mister John Ruark, I have missed your wit and humor at the table, to say naught of your clever comments and your dancing. Have you been to any festivities of late? Perhaps some colonial lady has caught your eye.”

She bent him a cool, questioning gaze, and Ruark laughed lightly.

“You know my heart is committed, and Dame Fortune has decreed that I should find no other as fair.”

He watched the slow flush of pleasure spread over her face. He had not released her hand and now tucked it beneath his arm as he cast a wry glance toward the heavens.

“There is an ancient oriental saying about the wisdom of standing in the rain,” Ruark mused aloud. “If you will allow me, Madam Beauchamp, I will escort you and your father to a place where you might have a cup of tea while the coaches are loaded.”

Trahern looked almost longingly toward Pitney's stalwart back in time to see him disappear through the doorway of the tavern. Heaving a sigh, he gestured with his hand.

“Lead on, Mister Ruark. I suppose a father has some duties toward his offspring that cannot be avoided.” He paused in reflection then added ruefully, “Still, there are times when I wish the lass would have been born to a pair of breeches.”

Ruark was exceedingly glad she hadn't been, but did not offer any answering comment. Shanna, however, felt the heat of his eyes upon her, and they warmed her more than any verbal reassurance.

Nearly an hour later the driver of the first coach came to tell Ruark that all was ready and that they could be on their way whenever it pleased the squire.

“I'll fetch Pitney,” Ruark offered, rising to his feet. He fished in his purse for coin. “I did say I'd buy the first.”

The tavern was a noisy place nearly bursting at the seams with seagoing men and common laborers. It was here in the midst of the bedlam that Pitney quietly quaffed his ale, leaning against the bar beside a red-haired man who appeared very emphatic about whatever it was they were discussing. Ruark could not hear above the din, but the man shook his head, hammered the bar with his fist, and jabbed a finger at his companion's chest.

“Nay, I'll not speak me piece now,” Ruark overheard, as he inched his way between the brawny chests of several tars who were imbibing close by. “I've got to find the mon meself and know for sure he's the same and only one. Then I'll have it out with ye and the rest who need to know. I'll not be putting a noose about me own neck to save the hide o' a mon I ne'er met.”

Ruark grabbed Pitney's arm in a hearty greeting and slapped his coins down on the bar. “Keeper, give this man another to see him through the day and one for his friend besides.”

“None fer me,” the Scotsman declined, shaking his head. “I've got to get back to me work on the docks.”

“Before ye go, Jamie, me friend, I would have ye meet a good man. This is John Ruark,” Pitney rasped with a twisted smile. “Or have the two of ye met before?”

Ruark frowned. Now that he looked at the man closely, there was something oddly familiar about him. But Jamie quickly got to his feet and avoided meeting Ruark's gaze.
He hastily jammed a stocking cap over his red hair and with a mumbled farewell was gone.

“Should I know him?” Ruark asked.

“Aye, but as long as I know where to find him, I'll let it go for now.” Pitney sipped the ale and lifted the mug in thanks to Ruark. “A good brew. Have one for yerself, laddie. It'll stiffen yer spine for the ride home.”

Warily Ruark studied him. “From the way you talk, I would say you've had enough for the two of us.”

With a roar of mirth the hefty man clapped Ruark on the back. “Drink up, John Ruark. Ye'll be needing a bracer to keep yer mind off that fine filly ye wed.”

When Ruark returned to the coaches, Shanna was already seated in the first one, and as Pitney joined Trahern on the dock, Ruark adjusted Attila's saddle so that he could gaze at the one he most adored.

“Will you be riding, Mister Ruark?” Shanna asked quietly, watching him.

“Aye, madam. With this rain I'll have to check the roads ahead to see if they're fit.”

Shanna leaned back against the cushioned seat and drew a thick fur over her lap. A smile of contentment slowly took possession of her face. At least he wouldn't be far.

The interior of the carriage was not richly appointed, but rather gave an air of sturdiness and homey roominess. Piles of fur robes almost filled the seats, and a small iron warming pan was on the floor, giving off a welcome heat against her feet.

Gaylord returned, and it was with some amazement that Ruark watched him assuring the safety of several large trunks into the wagon.

“Sir Gaylord will be traveling with us?” Ruark questioned Trahern.

“Aye,” the squire grunted. “'Tis to our discomfort that he has chosen to present his plans and need to the Beauchamps. And by the amount of baggage he fetched from the warehouse, he'll be their guest for some time.