Shanna (72 page)

Tense silence greeted his observation before the eldest Madam Beauchamp reproached her offspring.

“Gabrielle! Hush your prattlel Mister Ruark cannot help what he is.”

Gabrielle wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Well, anyway, I wouldn't want a bondsman for
my
husband.”

“Gabby!” George Beauchamp spoke softly but with such a tone as to brook no disobedience. “Mind your mother. 'Tis not Christian to bait the less fortunate.”

“Yes, father,” Gabrielle meekly complied.

Shanna caught a glimpse of Pitney laughing into his cup and mused in sudden rancor, “For an uncle he's not too bright. He has sipped himself into a stupor with his jug of ale and guffaws like a mindless idiot while they poke fun at Ruark.”

But when she glanced at her husband, Shanna grew puzzled, for he seemed relaxed and not at all angry as his gaze followed the young woman, Gabby. Indeed, there was something akin to pleasure in his face until Gabrielle turned and, catching his attention on her, flashed him a smile of pure innocence. His eyes narrowed threateningly.

Setting her glass aside, Shanna found Gabrielle's deep brown eyes upon her and wondered at the sudden worried frown that marked the young woman's brow.

“Squire Trahern was kind enough to the man,” Gaylord continued imperiously. “Took Mister Ruark into his own house and treated him like a member of the family. Too good for him, I say. The slaves' quarters will do for him. No need to trouble you good people further with the likes of him.”

“'Tis no room there,” Amelia snapped. As her husband dropped an arm about her shoulders, she continued in a softer tone, “He can stay in the house.”

“As I've said before, the chap is fond of horses.” Leisurely the knight took a pinch of snuff. “Let him make his bed with them.”

“I'll not—” Amelia began in a burst of heated ire, but Ruark interrupted.

“I beg your pardon, madam, but I'd just as soon sleep there, if you have no objection.” He leaned back against the door frame and folded his arms as Gaylord glared at him.

Suddenly Shanna felt a strong desire to confront them all with the truth. It nearly burst from her lips as she rose trembling from her chair. She ached to defend her love and her marriage to this bondsman. The only thing that stilled her words was the fear that Gaylord would rush to his magistrate father to bear the news that a man he had condemned to hang was alive. She placed an unsteady hand to her brow.

“Madam Beauchamp, could I lie down for a moment before dinner? I fear the ride exhausted me more than I realized.”

Trahern lowered his glasses, concern obviously written in his countenance. Like a vivacious child, Shanna had always seemed to possess inexhaustible energies. Here, as well, he'd have to readjust his thinking.

Ruark shared his worry and stepped toward Shanna anxiously but abruptly found himself facing Charlotte's back as she moved into his path. Amelia Beauchamp went to Shanna's side and took her arm.

“Of course, child,” she soothed. “It has been a long, tiring trip for you. Perhaps you would like to freshen up as well.”

As she passed the bondslave, Amelia paused. “Mister Ruark, would you carry the lady's cases upstairs? I believe the wagon has arrived.”

“Yes, ma'am,” he replied respectfully and took his leave.

The stairs led straight up against the wall of the entrance hall, and as Mrs. Beauchamp escorted Shanna up, her dark taffeta gown swishing with her every movement, Ruark came into the house again, carrying a small sea chest on his shoulder and another case beneath his arm. Without a word he mounted the steps behind them and followed on into the bedchamber at the back corner of the house. A fire danced brightly on the hearth like spirited red and gold elves frolicking on a log. There was
a warm cheeriness and mannish comfort about the room. A soft, dark Oriental carpet cushioned the feet, and chairs of leather and wood sat about the room. A massive four-poster was spread with a heavy velvet coverlet of a rust hue, and the same material draped the windows.

“This is my son's room when he's home,” Mrs. Beauchamp explained, lighting the tapers in a candelabrum. “I didn't think you would mind using this, as all the other guest rooms will be taken. It does lack something of a women's touch, I suppose.”

“It's fine,” Shanna murmured. Her eyes met Ruark's inquiring gaze as he set her cases down. She flushed and folded her hands in embarrassment as she realized the woman had turned and stood watching them.

“My large trunk. Did you see it, Mister Ruark?” she managed.

“Aye, I'll go down and get it now.”

“Have David help you bring it up, Mister Ruark, Amelia suggested.

The door closed behind him, and the elder woman bent to fold down the bedcovers.

“I sent your girl Hergus to bed with a tray. Poor woman, she seemed to have suffered greatly from the ride.”

No doubt, with Gaylord and Ralston sharing the coach, Shanna mused. Aloud she voiced, “She's never taken well to traveling.”

Idly Shanna thumbed through a leather-bound book on the writing desk which stood beside the back window and then raised a questioning gaze to Mrs. Beauchamp, realizing there was not a single word in it that she could understand.

“Greek. 'Tis my son's,” the woman replied, fluffing a pillow. “He was always reading and doing, even as a young lad.”

There was a soft rap on the door, and it was opened to admit Ruark and the tall, rather elderly man in spotless servant's attire who had let them into the house. Between the two of them, they managed to get Shanna's huge trunk to the foot of the bed. Even Ruark was panting as he straightened, and he paused to catch his
breath, his eyes sparkling at Shanna with silent jest, before he followed David out the door.

Amelia directed her attention back to Shanna, who still stared at the closed portal. “I'll help you with your gown, child. Would you like a tray to be sent up?”

“Oh, no. I'll only rest for a while.”

Shanna presented her back to Amelia and stood quietly as the woman unlaced her gown. Stepping out of it, Shanna waited almost timidly in her light chemise as the woman put away the velvet dress.

“Can I fetch a nightgown for you?” the older woman offered kindly. At Shanna's negative shake of the head, Amelia smiled and walked to the door. “I'll leave you, then. Have a good rest.”

She opened the door then paused, gazing back over her shoulder at the young and beautiful woman.

“I think if a man can win your father's approval as Mister Ruark has apparently done, then he's a man to handle himself whatever's given to him. I wouldn't worry, child.”

When she left, Shanna slowly sank onto the edge of the bed where she stayed for a very long time. She hadn't realized her emotions were so apparent that they could be read without flaw. And if they were readily visible to Mrs. Beauchamp, then Orlan Trahern might soon recognize that his daughter was in love with his bondsman.

The sound of a door slamming somewhere in the house brought Shanna wide awake. She lay across the bed, still in her shift, but now a fluffy comforter was spread over her. A small clock on the mantel indicated it was halfpast eight.

Shanna sat up with a start. She had only meant to rest for a few moments, but hours had gone past instead. They could not have waited dinner for her this late, and she was suddenly aware that she was intensely hungry. Nearly ten hours had passed since she had eaten and no sight of a tray. But then, she had told Mrs. Beauchamp she would be down.

Finding a heavy velvet dressing robe in her case, she slipped into it, fastening it high at her throat. Even if
she had to go to the stables to fetch Ruark to help her, she was going to find something to eat. Never in her life had she known such a plaguing hunger.

“It must be because of the babe.” She smiled in wonder, realizing the change in her body, and her spirits soared. Suddenly she was impatient to hold a wee nestling form close in her arms. Lass or lad, it mattered naught. It seemed in that moment she could have loved every baby in the world. What a difference a year had made in her thoughts, for then she had worried for fear she was with child by Ruark. An innocent she had been to believe there was even a chance. He was a bold man to have taken her virginity in the coach. But then, it had taken a bold man to win her respect—and her love.

Restraining her lighthearted step, Shanna went carefully down the stairs. All was quiet within the dining room and parlor. Only a dim lantern burned there. But voices came from the back of the house. Servants, perhaps? Would they fetch her food? It was a chance worth taking.

Down the hall, through a smaller dining room, she went quietly, following the sound of voices. Then the aroma of food hit her, and she forgot everything else. She set her hand to push open the door. This had to be the kitchen, and the fact that it was attached to the house seemed not unusual in this frigid clime. A burst of laughter greeted her as she swung open the door, and she saw Nathanial guffawing beside his father, who wore a wry smile.

“Shanna!” Charlotte's voice came from beside her, and Shanna turned to see the woman standing with Amelia and Jeremiah. At the table Gabrielle rose to her feet in some surprise, and the men's humor fled as they stared, too.

“I'm sorry,” Shanna murmured, half embarrassed, realizing there was only family here. “I didn't mean to intrude.”

She started to leave when Amelia raised her hand.

“Wait, child. Come in,” she beckoned and turned to her daughter. “Gabrielle, fetch her the plate.”

“But, mama—”

“Never mind. Do as I say. Hurry with you. Can't you see the poor girl is hungry?”

“I'm not dressed,” Shanna smiled lamely. “I'd better go back.”

“Nonsense. We kept a plate warm for you. Come sit yourself down,” Charlotte urged, sliding back a chair.

A whistling came from outside the house, and the back door burst open to admit Ruark with a load of wood in his arms. Seeing Shanna, he stopped then glanced around at the expectant faces.

“Well, set the wood down, boy,” George directed after a tense moment of silence. He gestured to the wood box. “You did say you were hungry, didn't you?”

“Aye, sir,” came the reply, and Ruark deposited his load, catching Shanna's confused glance. “'Twas the least I could do to repay these good people for supper.”

“Hmph!” Amelia raised her eyebrow sharply, and Jeremiah hastened forward, rubbing his hands nervously on his breeches.

“Mister Ruark, how would you like to go hunting along the ridge tomorrow? I saw some big tracks up there. Early in the morning, if you can manage it.”

“I'll have to ask the squire,” Ruark replied, tossing a couple of logs onto the fire and giving Shanna a glance askance.

More worried about her own intrusion, Shanna took the seat Charlotte had offered and folded her hands self-consciously. Gabrielle rushed to set a heaping plate before her and hurried back to the hearth to slip another one from the brick oven.

“Mister Ruark, sit down please,” she said, placing the platter.

Two large glasses of cold milk were poured by Charlotte and placed beside their plates as Ruark slipped into the chair next to his wife. As they ate, the conversation warmed again until Shanna found herself laughing with the rest of them. Ruark's easy wit joined theirs, and, to Jeremiah's delight, he was soon relating the riotous tale of a Scottish hunt. It was a pleasant time, and, strangely, Shanna felt a part of the family. She wondered yet if it could not be true. Perhaps Ruark was some distant cousin, some kin? Captain Beauchamp had denied the fact Or had he? It was something to think on.

Well after the hour of eleven, when the family began to
drift away to their rooms, Shanna rose from the table and said good night to the father and Nathanial, who remained standing near the hearth. Ruark started to get to his feet, but George rested his hand on his shoulder and pressed him back into the chair.

“You were telling me of this stallion, and there is much I would ask. Stay a while.”

Ruark's gaze followed Shanna out; then the door swung closed behind her. The way was dark for Shanna, lit only by a candle burning on the sideboard in the dining room, and in the hall, the only radiance came from the lantern from the drawing room. There, in the shadows of the foyer, Shanna stood before the small square panes of crystal that composed the larger window, attracted by the sight of the full moon. Its pale light streamed through the half-naked branches of the giant oaks on the front lawn.

The creaking of the kitchen door interrupted her reverie, and Shanna half turned as Nathanial came striding down the halL The man caught her movement, paused a moment, then came toward her.

“Shanna,” he smiled in the meager light. “I thought you would be in bed by now.”

“I was admiring the view,” she murmured somewhat apologetically.

He peered out the window over the top of her head at the breathtaking scene. “You see with the eye of an artist,” he remarked.

Shanna gave a soft chuckle. “Aye, I've wanted to be that, too.”

“Would you care to talk?' he invited.

Shanna leaned against the window frame to further contemplate the wintry night “About what, sir?”

The answer was slow in coming. “Anything.” He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Whatever would please you.”

“And what do you think would please me?”

“Mister Ruark,” he said softly.

She searched for some hint of displeasure or contempt in his shadowed face, but only a gentle smile met her inquiring eyes.

“I cannot deny it,” she whispered and stared out the window again, twisting the gold band on her finger. “You
saw us before. You may not approve, but I love him—and I carry his child.”

“Then why this farce, Shanna?” His voice was low and gentle as he questioned. “Would the truth be so pitiful?”