Shanna (76 page)

George had lowered his teacup and now spoke firmly. “Mister Ruark is welcome at my table, sir.”

Gaylord shrugged.” Tis your home, of course.”

They were leaving the table when the knight asked of his host, “I say, would you have a servant fetch a gentle steed for me from the stables? I've a yen to see this country you boast of so much, to try, if possible, to find some merit in it.”

Casting him a dubious glance, Ruark inquired with a hint of sarcasm. “Can you find your way alone, or do you need a guide?”

Pitney hid a smile of amusement as the knight glared his contempt at the bondsman.

“Whatever, I shall not need you to fetch me,” Gaylord sneered.

“The stable burned to the ground this morning,” Amelia interrupted the two men, eyeing each and appearing somewhat worried.

Gaylord's eyebrows lifted. “The stable, you say? And the horses as well?”

Pitney rasped gruffly. “We saved them all. As it appears, someone set the fire off after locking Mister Ruark inside. But of course ye were asleep and wouldn't be knowing 'bout that.”

The knight snorted. “No doubt that's the bondsman's story after he carelessly touched it off himself. A good ruse, I would say.”

“That can hardly be the way of it,” Nathanial interceded, “since the doors were bolted from without.”

“Perhaps the slave has made some enemies,” Gaylord shrugged. “But that is of no importance to me. I only asked for a steed, not a full accounting of everyone's misfortune.”

“One will be fetched,” George announced brusquely.

It was to the relief of all that Sir Billingsham did manage to mount a horse and, his loosely jointed frame bouncing in the saddle, galloped off from view. Family and guests congregated in the drawing room, for it was decided the day would be spent much in relaxing. George's vision was somewhat impaired with the broken eyeglasses, and Orlan's crippled state did not lend to a great deal of mobility. He was carefully ensconced in a massive chair, his heavily wrapped foot propped on a footstool. A determination had been made that no bones were broken, but the foot was badly bruised and swollen to a point of discomfort.

It was a short time later that the sound of a carriage coming up the lane drew the attention of all. Gabrielle went to the window, brushing aside the silken panel to look out. Past her shoulder, Shanna caught a glimpse of a young woman with a baby clutched in her arms descending the steps of a landau with the aid of her driver. Dropping the drapery, Gabrielle whirled to face her mother, eyes wide.

“'Tis Garland! Didn't you tell her to stay away?”

Amelia gasped and dropped her needlework. She came to her feet but appeared undecided as to which way to
move. “Oh dear! Garland!” she fretted. “Good heavens!” She turned in supplication to her husband. “George?”

Ruark, as well, seemed suddenly disturbed. Shaking his head as if pained, he moved away from Shanna's side and went to lean against the mantel, folding his arms across his chest and frowning with what was apparently genuine disgust. Quite bemused by his actions, Shanna turned to stare at him wonderingly.

Garland's entry was like a whirlwind coming in the door, a fresh, airy breeze sweeping through the house. She did not pause as she came into the drawing room, but went straight to her mother to place the child in her arms. Glancing away from Ruark, Shanna saw only Garland's slim, velvet-clad back and a wide-brimmed hat that com- pletely hid her face. Without a glance toward anyone else, the new arrival went boldly across the room to Ruark. He smiled tolerantly as she stood on tiptoes to place a kiss on his mouth.

“Welcome home, Ruark,” she said in a voice soft and warm.

Garland turned, sweeping off her hat and came directly to Shanna, who could only stare agog at the raven hair, golden eyes, and the dazzling smile and looks. There was no doubt in Shanna's mind that here was Ruark's sister. But then, Garland was Gabrielle's sister—and Nathanial's—and Jeremiah's! Brothers and sisters all and to—Ruark Deverell Beauchamp!

“And of course you would be Shanna,” Garland beamed. “Nathanial did not do you justice with his words.”

“Oh!” The gasp escaped Shanna as she roused from shock. Her eyes flew to Ruark, who could only smile lamely as he shrugged. “You!” No other word would come, and Shanna stared at the girl again. “You're—oh!”

Her face flaming with her own foolishness, Shanna whirled and fled from the room, up the stairs, and into the bedchamber that she had been using. Locking the door behind her, she faced a surprised Hergus who had been tidying the room. It was as if Shanna saw her surroundings for the first time and the realization came—this was Ruark's room. It was his desk, his book of Greek, his bed, his armoire. Oh, how he had tricked her!

Orlan Trahern's voice rang loud in the suddenly subdued drawing room. “Will someone tell me what's going on?”

A chuckle escaped Pitney as Ruark stepped before Trahern and with a click of his heels, gave a slight bow. “Ruark Beauchamp at your service, sir.”

“Ruark Beauchamp!”
Orlan bellowed.

His bondsman did not wait to explain, but hastened after Shanna. Trahern rose and started to follow but was painfully reminded of his injured foot. He snatched the staff and hop-skipped to the bottom of the stairs and roared upward:

“How in the hell can she be a widow if you're Ruark Beauchamp?”

Ruark replied over his shoulder. “She never was a widow. I cheated.”

“Damnation. Are you married or not?”

“Married.” Ruark was halfway up the stairs.

Orlan bellowed louder.
“Are you sure?”

“Aye, sir!”

Ruark disappeared down the hall, and Trahern hobbled back into the drawing room, his head bowed in thought, his brow furrowed in a frown. He looked accusingly at Pitney, who only shrugged and lit his pipe. Glancing around, Orlan saw the worried frowns of all the Beauchamps, the deepest on the face of the girl, Garland, who seemed not at all sure now that she had done the right thing. Trahern's belly began to shake, a chuckle burst forth and became rolling laughter. A few hesitant smiles appeared. Limping forward to George, Orlan stretched forth a large hand.

“Whatever else, sir, I am sure we shall not suffer from boredom.”

Ruark tried the knob and found the way barred. “Shanna?” he called. “I would explain.”

“Go away!” her shriek answered him. “You made a fool of me in front of everyone!”

“Shanna?” he rattled the knob again. “Open up.”

“Get away!”

“Shanna?” Ruark's own anger rose, and he leaned a shoulder against the portal to find it as solid as he remembered.

“Leave me be, you mewling jackanape!” Shanna gritted out. “Go play your puns on some other fool!”

“Dammit, Shanna, I can explain.”

“Damn what? Damn me for a fool?' she hurled. “Get thee gone, you many-named goat!”

“Open this door!”

“Nay!”

Ruark stood back and kicked with all his might. The panel was solid oak, but the latch and jamb were not meant to take such abuse. With a splintering crash, the door flew wide, and a shower of plaster and wood fell from the side of the adjoining wall. Down below, Amelia laid a worried hand on her husband's arm, but he patted it reassuringly.

Ruark stepped through the door, glancing in momentary wonder at the wreckage he had wrought, but where he had expected to see Shanna, there stood a horrified Hergus. Her hands were clenched to her mouth, and her eyes were wide as moons.

“M-M-Mister Ruark!” she stuttered and then found her tongue. “Get ye gone from this room, Mister Ruark,” she stammered. “I'll not see ye doing yer dirt here with these nice people.”

Ruark ignored her and stepped toward Shanna, who had her back to him. But the Scotswoman scurried to block his path.

“Get out of my way,” Ruark growled. He was not in a mood to allow interference.

The maid was firm. “Mister Ruark, ye will not do this here!”

“Woman, you stand between me and
my wife!”
He almost matched Trahern's tone and moved forward menacingly.
“Get out!”

Hergus gaped at him, her jaw sagging. Very meekly she moved aside and left the room, shaking her head and mumbling to herself.

“Shanna!” Ruark began angrily, but he realized full well the hurt she had suffered. “Shanna?” His voice was softer, then softer still. “Shanna, I love you.”

“Beauchamp! Beauchamp!” She stamped her foot with each word. “I should have known.”

“I tried to tell you last night, but you would not listen.”

Shanna faced him, and her eyes brimmed with tears. “Then I am Madam Beauchamp of the Virginia Beauchamps. I am no widow, nor have I been. I shall be the mother of a Beauchamp, and my father shall have all he wished for.”

“To bell with your father's wishes.” Ruark took her in his arms. “You shall have all you wish.”

“You played me the fool from the first,” she accused, resisting his embrace. She kept her arms folded between them as she stared up at him. “You could have told me and spared me much.”

“Remember, my love, on Mare's Head when you told me you could accept me if I were rich and came from a family well-named?” he questioned softly and then stated without waiting for her answer, “1 wanted you to love me, Shanna, whether bondsman or Beauchamp. Had I told you, I would never have been sure.”

“'Tis all yours, isn't it? This room? The high valley? The cabin there and the bed where we made love? The horses? Even Jezebel was your gift to me, wasn't she?”

“Whatever I have I gladly yield to you,” Ruark murmured.

Shanna's brows drew together as a new thought struck her. “How did you come to know so much about mills?”

His hands slipped up her back as he tried again to bring her closer, but still she refused him. He answered quietly, “I have built three of my own on the James and a big one at Well's Landing above Richmond.”

“And ships?” She raised her gaze and contemplated him suspiciously. “It always puzzled me about the schooner, how you handled her. You seem to have a talent for sailing ships as well as all your other accomplishments.”

The pins escaped her hair beneath his fingers, and the tresses tumbled free of the sedate coil.

“My family has six that ply the coast.” Ruark's eyes softly caressed her face. “I own two, three now with the schooner.”

Shanna groaned in despair. “You're as rich as my father.”

He gave a low chuckle. “I doubt that heartily, but I can afford whatever gowns you wish.”

A hot blush stained Shanna's cheeks as she was reminded
of their quarrel and her own denials of him. “You laughed at me all the while,” she moaned disconcertedly. “How you must have ached, being unable to lay hold upon some of your wealth so you could free yourself and flee Los Camellos.”

“I told you once, money was not my problem.” He stepped to the music box and much to Shanna's amazement slid open a concealed door at the end of it, revealing a chamber that ran the length of the base. From it, Ruark removed several wadded pieces of oiled buckskin and then two small leather bags. A very solid “clink” sounded as he hefted them in his hand. “I've had this ever since Nathanial came to Los Camellos. He even sent me the box to put it in. There's more than enough here to pay my bondage and my fare to Virginia. If I hadn't wanted to be with you, I could have left.”

He returned to her, and his hands smoothed her hair before they moved to cup her face, lifting it up so their eyes met.

“I love you, Shanna. I want you to share my life and that which belongs to me. I want to build you a mansion, as your father did for your mother, as my parents did here. I want to give you children, with dark hair and light, and watch them grow, bathed in our love. I have properties on the James. The land is good, and 'twill nourish our offsprings. It only waits your word to say where the house will be.”

Shanna sniffed. “I rather entertained the idea of living in a cabin with you.” Ruark's embrace tightened about her, and she murmured against his chest, “I should have your scalp, you know that”

“Will not my baby do as well, madam?” he asked tenderly.

“Captain—pirate—John—Ruark—Deverell—Beauchamp. How shall I call you?” Shanna brushed at her tears.

“Lover! Husband! Father to your children! Love of your life. You will know me by whatever name.”

“Father Beauchamp?” Shanna shook her head in distaste. “Husband Beauchamp?” She wrinkled her nose. “Ruark? Lover?” Her arms slipped about his neck, and
her mouth raised to meet his. The kiss blended their lips in joyous love.

It was a long moment before they parted and were brought to full awareness again by a polite clearing of the throat which came from the doorway. This time they turned with no fear of discovery and met Nathanial's grin.

“I always seem to be intruding,” he chuckled.

Shanna giggled as she snuggled happily within Ruark's embrace. “I shall not ask for your discretion, sir. Tell whom you may.”

Ruark beckoned his brother in. “What is on your mind?”

Nathanial scratched his cheek thoughtfully, and his brown eyes were warm with humor. “I was afraid Shanna might think me a liar for not claiming you as my brother, and I just wanted to set the record straight now that the secret is out.”

Impulsively Shanna pressed a kiss upon Nathanial's cheek. “I forgive you. No doubt Ruark swore you to silence.”

“Aye, that he did,” Nathanial responded. “When we put into port at Los Camellos, Ruark sought me out. I gave him money to pay for his bondage, but he refused to leave or have the story out. I thought him mad or beguiled by a witch.” The captain gave a humorous laugh. “Then I met you, and I could understand at least a part of his reasoning. With all due respects, madam,”—he bowed slightly in apology—“I had indeed accounted for all my brothers when I talked with you. 'Twas no lie I gave you.”