Whispers at Midnight (24 page)

“I would be delighted. Are there
others?”

“Not yet. Two of the mares are due to drop
foals next month—another, Briana, later in the fall. I’ve put her
out to pasture already. From her I expect one equal to
Cavalier.”

Amanda noted Cavalier’s fine long legs and
the flanks that already held a hint of power. She nodded to
Ryne.

“If she produces as fine a foal as this,
then you are sure to have the best bloodlines in Virginia.”

“In the colonies,” Ryne interjected.

She laughed. “In the colonies.”

Cavalier left them to high-step his way back
to Libelia’s side and, thrusting his head beneath her sleek belly,
found her teat. His short tail whisked contentedly as he satisfied
his appetite with her nourishing warm milk.

“Come along,” Ryne said, absently wrapping
an arm around Amanda’s shoulder and stroking her sleeve as they
watched Libelia graze peacefully while the foal suckled. “They’ve
no more use for us today. I have a few things to see to in the
stable and then we’ll go down to see the other mares in the pasture
along the river. We can take the buggy. There’s a road that runs
the length of the river on the Sullivan lands. I’ll drive you home
that way.” He paused. “You’ll find the view appealing, I
believe.”

She smiled and held her skirts high,
displaying a pair of trim ankles and slim calves to Ryne as he held
the gate open while she ventured out of the paddock.

While he tended his horses, he let her visit
an hour with Mrs. Deane. When he came for her she was holding the
smallest of the Deane clan in her lap. With a word of good-bye to
each child, she returned the young one to his mother and walked
with Ryne to the gate.

Ryne, eyes on her gently swaying hips and
streaming hair, found it difficult to keep his mind on anything
else. Warming his way with a smile, she waited at the buggy while
he fastened the latch. As he lifted her into the carriage, he
breathed deeply of the sweet jasmine scent that was so much a part
of her. A moment later he had bounded up beside her, and with a
practiced hand to the reins, started the team.

“Is it far?” she asked.

“Only a short drive,” he stammered, nearly
choking on the words as she bent to pluck a blade of grass from the
hem of her garment. The low-cut summer gown gapped away from her
bosom and treated him to a view of her lovely breasts. The team,
sensing the tension in his hands, quickly slowed their pace, the
sudden rough motion sending Amanda toppling forward.

“Ohh,” she gasped as Ryne’s arm latched
around her waist and prevented her tumbling to the floor of the
buggy. “What happened?”

“Just a bump in the road,” he answered, his
arm still firmly holding her waist.

The desire to stop the carriage and mold his
hands to her soft white flesh gnawed at him. But not so soon—he
could not rush her.

He pulled his hand away and returned it to
the reins. His nervousness betrayed him only in the tension he
relayed to the horses. The grays snorted and tossed their heads and
for once found it impossible to keep an even gait until they had
been driven for miles over the rolling pastures of the Sullivan
lands.

The time passed quickly. Ryne showed her his
horses and identified each by name. They reached the river and
started the drive along the rather rough lane which he assured her
went all the way back to Wicklow. She felt a bit ashamed that she
had been so quick to condemn Ryne in her mind. Though he was
evidently short of funds, as he had told her, it was obvious his
investments were good ones, as he had said, and at some time in the
future would show him a profit. She was very glad she had been
wrong about him.

The buggy rumbled along above the wide James
River. The afternoon sun was dropping low in the sky and reflecting
bright rays on the deceptively calm water. Ryne had been quiet
since they left the horses. For once she could understand his mood.
The beautiful green fields, the cooling breeze from the river, the
peaceful lazy clouds overhead made her feel peaceful and good too.
She could see Wicklow in the distance, the copper domes so
distinctly outlined against the horizon, the walls making a slash
of red against the green hills beyond.

She had become pleasantly accustomed to the
bumping of his shoulder against hers and to the occasional movement
of his thigh against her skirts. The antagonism between them had
all but disappeared and was being rapidly replaced by a warmth as
electric as the personality of the man beside her.

She was not at all dismayed when Ryne
stopped the buggy to give the horses a rest. Nor did she protest
when he took her hand in his and invited her to explore a rocky
area on the riverbank which he said had been disturbed by a recent
storm.

Only minutes later they had shed their shoes
and were wading the shallows near the rocks. Ryne’s hand was as
warm as the water was cool. She could feel the little currents in
her body that his touch always brought. She felt too the splash of
the water on her legs as she laughed and held her skirts up to her
knees. She smelled the earthy, pungent scent of the riverbank where
the water constantly washed against the mossy banks.

She didn’t care that the water muddied from
their steps and spattered the snowy white ruffles of her
underskirt.

“Oh!” Amanda slipped in the mire and nearly
fell, her voluminous skirt looking suddenly like a summer parasol
about to be carried away in the wind.

“Keep to your feet!” Ryne laughed, but
helped to pull her upright. He had not expected her to be so
willing to spoil her dress or to discard her ladylike ways. And yet
here she was acting the tomboy but making him feel she was very
much a desirable woman. “I don’t want to have to fish you out of
the river.”

Amanda laughed too and trudged on through
the slime and mud to where the rocks were large boulders jutting
out of the bank. Ryne hoisted her atop one of the flatter ones, for
here the water was no longer shallow.

“I haven’t seen this before,” he said,
wading into the waist-deep water to where there was a dark opening
in the rocks.

“What is it?”

“A cave,” he answered. “Only it doesn’t
appear to be a natural one. I believe this rock was dislodged by
the storm last spring.” He indicated a large one that was now
partially submerged. “I intend to take a look.”

He ducked beneath the muddied waters near
the opening and swam away. The river appeared much deeper there and
it was impossible to see him. He was below for what seemed an
endlessly long time. Amanda had begun to become alarmed, but then,
face and hair dripping wet, he burst out of the water. Amanda was
relieved to see him reappear.

“It’s large and dry inside,” he reported.
“And seems to go back for some distance. There is a ledge here
which leads inside.”

He climbed to the rock beside her and
removed his sodden shirt. Amanda’s lips parted slightly. Water
rippled off his body. The wet black breeches outlined every sinewy
muscle and every male part of him. His skin glistened, his eyes
were jubilant.

“What we need, my sweet, is an adventure.
Are you game for it?”

She tried to throttle the sudden surge of
her pulse and the fluttering of her heart.

Game for it? Of course she was.

While Ryne unhitched the horses so they could
graze freely, Amanda stripped away the layers of petticoats beneath
her dress. By the time he returned from the buggy with a torch and
rope, she had twisted up her skirt and tucked it into her waistband
so that it would not trail into the water. She was glad for the
interlude. It had given her blood time to cool.

The ledge was slippery but not so difficult
to walk that she could not follow Ryne into the cave. The floor
sloped up and the higher they went the drier and wider the way
became. Once Ryne had the torch lit, Amanda could see why he
thought the cave had been enlarged. The walls were too smooth and
regular to have been carved by the wash of water. Once they were
back twenty feet or so, they came to a set of steps which left no
doubt that a tunnel had been cut leading out of the cave. Staying
as close to Ryne as possible and never allowing herself to be out
of the glow of the torch, she followed him in the narrowing
tunnel.

“I think we are coming to the end,” he said
as the light revealed a wall of rock ahead.

Amanda stood beside him as he raised and
lowered the torch along the wall, trying to make certain there was
no continuation of the tunnel. She had no idea how deep within the
earth they had gone, nor which direction they had taken from the
river. She was glad the dark tunnel did not branch off, for it
occurred to her they might have some difficulty discovering the way
out if it did. Still she thought it peculiar she should feel so
comfortable and unafraid in a cave when there were moments at
Wicklow she could be as certain as Gussie that the house was filled
with spirits.

Ryne gave her the torch and asked that she
hold it while he ran his hands over the wall checking the crevices
and ridges in the rock.

“Here,” he said, indicating where he wanted
the light. “There’s a door cut into the stone. Feel it.” He took
her free hand and led it over the narrow grooves in the rock. She
could feel the slight crack, but, like Ryne, failed to notice
another door close by and set more tightly into the wall.

“Can you tell how it opens?” She was alive
with excitement. Could this be the place where Jubal had hidden his
gold? It would have been clever of him not to have kept it in the
house at all.

“I’m sure it’s only a matter of applying
weight in the right spot.” He was pushing against the rock at
various levels, but without success. Finally he decided it was
necessary that they both push at the same time. He propped the
torch against the wall and placed her hands where he wanted her to
push. Above her he placed his own hands, and on the count of three
they both pushed with all their strength. The door swung open so
suddenly and quickly that both of them fell, one on top of the
other, into the small room on the other side.

“Amanda . . .” Ryne spoke her name softly
and asked if she were hurt.

“No. Only surprised, I think. And
disappointed. I thought we might find more than rubble and
dirt.”

Ryne left her for a moment to get the torch,
and confirmed what she had already concluded in the dim light. The
room contained nothing of value or even of interest. There were
bits of wood which might once have been a crude ladder, but mostly
only rocks and soil which seemed to have caved in from above.

“What do you suppose this was?” she asked as
she tried to brush off some of the dirt that clung to her clothes
and skin.

“I believe there was a house above here at
one time and these caves were dug out as a hiding place. It must
have been long ago, in the days when there was danger from
savages.”

“Then you don’t think your grandfather made
it?”

“My guess is the caves were here long before
he came. It’s possible he never knew they were here at all. Though
from the river it makes a good hiding place for someone in a small
boat.”

“Yes, it would,” Amanda agreed. “Though I
admit I hoped he did know of it and had used it for the safekeeping
of his gold.”

Ryne dropped back down on the floor of the
cave beside her. She could not see the arrested expression that had
come to his face as she talked. Nor could she know he was disturbed
to hear of her interest in the gold. Gently and purposefully he
placed one arm around her shoulders.

“My guess is,” he said, “that Grandfather
Jubal hid no gold at Wicklow or on his lands. The house was costly,
the land more so, and by all accounts, his and Evelyn’s lifestyle
was lavish. If there is gold here, it is only what was spent to
establish the plantation.” He wondered if he had discouraged her or
if she were only cleverly disguising her views when she
responded.

“I suspect you are right, but I preferred to
believe otherwise.” She nestled closer to him in the flickering
torchlight. It was pleasurable being with him in this secret place
and feeling the strength and heat of his body next to her. “There
is something romantic about imagining a hidden treasure is near and
perhaps attainable. The thought is intriguing.”

“Then I am sorry you were disappointed. But
we have had our adventure, haven’t we?” His fingers laced into her
hair and tilted her head back. “At least part of it,” he added, his
voice going low and smooth.

Amanda’s hands moved to his shoulders, her
fingers trembling as his lips moved onto hers. His firm, moist
mouth brought a delectable quivering sensation to her body. But his
lips did not linger long, not nearly as long as she wanted. And
when he released her and it was over all too quickly, she felt an
aching need for more.

“We must leave here, sweetling, before the
torch burns out.” He was on his feet and helping her up. She was
dazed a little by the aftereffects of his kiss and so only slightly
concerned that she felt something beneath her hand as he pulled her
from the floor. It was metal. Some relic from the house that had
fallen in, she supposed as she dropped it back to the ground. She
did not look closely enough to observe that it was not old enough
to have been lost so long ago. It did not interest her much, not
nearly as much as the fevered beating of her heart.

Ryne’s heart was beating as fast, but it was
not evident from the calmness of his voice or the sureness of his
steps as he led Amanda out of the cave. He wished he had not been
reminded she was a schemer. It was possible she had manipulated her
way into an inheritance of Wicklow because she believed she would
find the rumored gold. If so, she would be even more disappointed.
If there were gold, and he was not truly convinced it did exist,
Amanda would never find it. He would make sure of that.