“ ‘Tis Squire Trahern’s way to be soft with his slaves.” His sneer was just barely detectable. “Rest assured it would not be my way, but I must go on to other duties. You will be quartered in an old stable above the town until you go to the fields, and you will be given light work at the dock or plantation. This man,”—he indicated the one who had guarded them—“will be your overseer. He will report to either myself or Trahern. Until you are adjudged worthy of trust, you will stay near the stable at all times that you are not engaged in work. If you have not already noted,”—he swept his whip toward the hills and then the beach—“there is nowhere to hide, at least not for long.” Here he seemed almost pained. “You will be given time to rest and will be fed expensively.” With the next words he warmed to his topic. “But you will be expected to earn your keep and then some.”
Brusquely he gestured to the guard.
“Take them away. All but that one.” He indicated Ruark and when the others had left, he drew close and spoke in a low voice. “You seem to display some doubt as to your position here.”
Ralston waited but Ruark returned his stare without speaking, and the agent’s lips curled back in a snarl. “Unless you wish to return to England and get your neck stretched, I warn you keep a close tongue in your head.”
Ruark’s eyes did not waver, nor did he make any comment. The man had done him a great favor, though he could little realize its extent.
“Get with them.”
Ralston jerked his head toward the disappearing file of men, and Ruark obeyed swiftly, giving him no cause for anger.
Trahern’s ships plied the southern waters, staying away from the North Atlantic where great storms raged and icebergs made the voyages hazardous. They took to the islands rich baubles, fancy silks and other produce of the Continent and England, bringing back the raw materials that in the summer would be sent north again. New fields were cleared on the southern slopes of the island, and the timber thus gained was thrown off the cliffs into the sea, there to be gathered onto the smaller ships and taken to greater ports where it could be sawed into much-needed lumber. Gangs of men went from one field to another as the work was needed. Usually their first duties were to rehabilitate or construct quarters for the overseers and then themselves. Simple thatched huts with half walls were the rule, sturdy enough to provide shelter from the rains and constant sun.
John Ruark was first given to one of these overseers. He was diligent in his labors and offered many improvements for the operation. It was under his direction that a brook was diverted into a flume, and the huge logs were no longer laboriously dragged to the cliff’s edge, but by their own weight were sent on a rapid ride to the sea, thus saving much toil for both mules and men. The overseer was most thankful for this bright young man, because able hands were short enough, and even the mules tired quickly in the steaming heat. The taskmaster mentioned the bondsman’s name in his report to Trahern.
John Ruark was passed to another gang which set about to harvest the winter cane before the dry months came. There, he showed them how to burn the fields which reduced the plant to a charred stalk, still rich in juice, while clearing poisonous spiders and insects that would further reduce the number of bondsmen. He changed the small crushing mill so that a mule could turn the wheel instead of the half-dozen or so men it usually took. Again Ruark’s name appeared in the reports.
It was not long before his skills in engineering were known upon the island, and the overseers passed him around so that he might solve their problems. Sometimes the duty was easy, sometimes difficult, and as with the burning of the fields there was much reluctance, and he had to prove his ideas. Still, he progressed. His pay was doubled, then tripled. His possessions increased by one mule rendered him by a village merchant for labors performed in his spare time.
Above all of his other talents, he had a special knack for horses, and the spirited stallion, Attila, was brought to him lame, suffering from a pulled tendon in the foreleg. When it was made known to John Ruark that this was the favored steed of Trahern’s daughter, he tended it carefully, rubbing liniment into the injured leg and tightly wrapping it. Patiently he walked it and coddled it until the fine animal would take sugar from his hand, something not even the young mistress could get the horse to do. He taught it to come at his whistle and then, pronouncing it fit, sent it back to the lady.
For Shanna, her return was most welcome. She spent the days in riding her horse or swimming in the crystal sea, diving beneath its surface and on occasion spearing an edible fish or two to add to the fare at the table. She renewed her friendship with the people of Los Camellos and saw to the welfare of needy families. It was among her larger worries that in the past years they had been unable to find a tutor for the children, and the small school which her father had built stood empty. For the most part, her days formed into a lazy idyllic thread, like pearls on a string. Other ships stopped at Los Camellos for trade, and their officers usually dined at the manor, giving Shanna an excuse to gown herself appropriately and entertain them with her effervescent wit. She was mistress of the island, daughter of Trahern, and it was almost labor to constantly remind everyone that she was now Madam Beauchamp. It was a happy time for her, an interlude of bliss with enough duty entwined with pleasure to keep her from becoming bored with either. The haunting memories that had plagued her were becoming subdued at last.
February was well on its way, and it was on a Friday afternoon that she called for Attila and set out upon a lazy tour. She had taken the middle road up between the hills near the cane fields, much too close to the gangs of men her father had often warned her were dangerous—though few on Los Camellos woud ever harm the daughter of Trahern. Yet it was not wise to tempt fate, and here in the cane fields the gangs of bondsmen worked day in and day out. Still, Shanna was one to venture where she would with little thought of the consequences. It was a hot day, and Attila’s hooves raised small clouds of dust which floated lazily above the surface of the road. Having passed between the hills, she was headed down the southern slope when she came upon a man leading a mule along the side of the road. He was a bondsman by his garb, though that had been oddly altered. He wore the familiar wide-brimmed hat, and his shirt was thrown over the mule’s back, but his breeches were hacked off high above his knees. His back was well bronzed, and the muscles rippling there showed a ready, capable strength.
Attila snorted and shook his head. Shanna would have reined the animal away to give the man wide berth, but as she passed by the bondsman, a tan arm shot out and firmly grasped the bridle of her steed. On any other occasion the stallion would have revolted and jerked away from unfamiliar restraint, but Attila only whinnied as he nudged the outstretched arm. For a moment, stunned by the steed’s reaction, Shanna could only stare wide-eyed as the horse nuzzled the fellow. Then gathering her wits, she glared down at this incursion of her freedom. She opened her mouth to demand her release. The man turned, and her ire fled. Her jaw dropped as overwhelming disbelief numbed her brain.
“You!” she choked out.
Mocking amber eyes gazed back at her. “Aye, Shanna. ‘Tis the good man, John Ruark, at your service. ‘Twould seem you have gained a name, my love, while I have lost one.” He grinned confidently. “But then, ‘tis not oft a man can cheat both the hangman and his wife.”
Some sanity returned to Shanna, but panic was heavily mixed with it.
“Let go!” she snapped and jerked the bridle. She would have fled, but Ruark’s weight held the stallion in place. Her voice broke with the fear she felt. “Let go!”
“Easy, my love.” The golden eyes glinted like hard metal. “We have a matter to discuss.”
“Nay!” She half screeched, half sobbed the word. She lifted the quirt in her hand as if to strike but found it snatched from her fingers and her wrist seized in a merciless grip.
“By God, madam,” he growled. “You will listen.”
His hand clamped tightly about her narrow waist, and she was seized from the
saddle as if she were a child and was set on her feet before him. Frantically Shanna struggled, her small, gloved hands pushing against the dark, furred chest that seemed to fill her whole entire vision. He gave her a rough shake that threatened to snap her head off and did, indeed, send her wide-brimmed hat sailing off into the grass and the neat roll of gilded hair tumbling down her back in a torrent. Shanna stilled, staring helplessly into his scathing eyes.
“That’s better,” Ruark jeered and loosened his painful grip only slightly. “You are not so haughty when you fear.”
Shanna summoned a show of weak bravado and lifted her quivering chin. “Do you think I’m afraid of you?”
The white teeth flashed against his bronze skin as he laughed at her, and Shanna could only mark the resemblance he bore to a swarthy pirate. The pallor of the gaol had faded, and in its stead the brown skin gleamed with the healthy sweat of one who now enjoyed his freedom.
“Aye, my loving wife,” he mocked. “And perhaps you have cause. Hicks vowed me mad after you betrayed me, and well I was with a devil’s desire to have revenge upon my beauteous spouse.”
The color drained from Shanna’s cheeks as his words brought back the memory of what Pitney had said. With a choked sob she renewed her efforts to escape, then writhed in silent agony as his fingers clenched again in a cruel vise.
“Be still,” Ruark commanded, and Shanna had no choice. She was far from subdued, though she still trembled violently with fright.
“If you don’t turn me loose I’ll scream until they hang you! And for good this time! Damn it! I’ll bring this island down around your ears!”
“Will you, my dear?” he lightly taunted. “And what will your father say of your marriage then?”
Pricked by his scorn, she was reckless and sneered, “Then what do you intend? Rape?”
Ruark laughed caustically. “Do not fear, Shanna. I have no urge to tumble you among the weeds.”
She was bemused. What did he want? Could she buy him off?
As if he read her mind, Ruark set the question straight. “And I want none of your father’s wealth, so if you think to bribe me, your efforts are wasted.”
He raised a dark brow and considered her flushed cheeks and the soft, trembling mouth. His gaze moved even lower and surveyed her heaving bosom, until Shanna wondered wildly if he could see through her riding habit. Beneath his steady regard, her breasts burned, and she could not control her rapid breathing. Feebly she crossed her arms before her as if naked beneath that stare. Ruark smiled evilly and gazed again into her eyes.
“In the gaol my mind was tortured by your beauty, and I could not forget even the smallest detail of you in my arms. That image was seared upon my memory as if you had branded me.”
He stared at her for a long time with a half-mad light in his eyes that made her doubt her own sanity at ever having sought him out. Then he smiled and became more gentle.
“I will yet find a way to reach among the thorns and pluck the rose,” he vowed.
His hand wandered up her back beneath the silken tresses and fingered them lightly. His smile broadened into a rakish grin, more like the Ruark she had known in the coach. It suddenly penetrated that he was not mad, but instead, was bent on revenge.
“ ‘Tis not in my mind to let your secret out, Shanna, but I gave to the bargain all that you demanded. The only thing left wanting is your part of the agreement, and my dear, I shan’t rest ‘til I see it done.”
Shanna’s mind flew aimlessly in ever-widening circles. “No bargain!” she cried, straining against him. “No bargain! You are not dead!”
“The bargain is met!” he snarled. “You have my name and all you desired. ‘Tis no fault of mine that Hicks is greedy. But I seek the full cost of my barter, a whole night with you as my wife, alone, and with no one to snatch open the door to drag me out.” He leered down at her. “I think you might enjoy it as well.”
“Nay,” Shanna whispered, shamed by the memory of her own response. “The marriage was consummated. Be content with that.”
Ruark chuckled derisively. “If you’re not woman enough to know, my darling innocence, we had barely begun and ‘twas not completed by any means. A full night, no less, Shanna. That is my end!”
It was best to humor him, she thought, at least until she was able to escape, and then Pitney. . . .
Ruark’s eyes narrowed in warning. “Though your womanhood is sorely lacking, Shanna, I have bested the hangman to find you out. Should you set the hounds or that great oaf Pitney or your father after me, I shall escape them all. And I promise you I will come and claim my due. And now, my loving wife—”
His hands dropped away, and he reached for Attila’s bridle, bringing the horse around. Bending, he folded his hands for her to step, and Shanna, eager to be gone, did not hesitate. With a hand upon his sturdy shoulder she sprang upward, lifted by his boost, and settled upon the saddle. A gasp caught in her throat as his hand reached toward her and very boldly led her knee around the horn. Snatching the reins, Shanna jerked Attila around and set her heel to his side until the stallion fairly flew along the road. Ruark’s low, mocking laughter rang in her ears long after she had left his sight.
In front of the white sprawling mansion, Shanna pulled the steed to a halt and flung herself from its back, leaving a servant to chase it down the lane in order to catch it. Racing past Berta—who paused to gape in surprise—Shanna plunged up the curving stairway and slammed the door of her sitting room behind her. She locked it quickly against any intrusion and leaned against it, panting for breath.
“He’s alive!” she gasped. She threw her riding gloves down upon the tall secretary and stormed toward her bedchamber. She left her boots and riding habit in a careless heap upon the rich carpet. In the light chemise, she paced angrily.
“He’s alive!” she raged. “He’s alive!”
There was a dread, sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, yet near her heart, pounding heavily beneath her breast, there bloomed an odd sense of elation, even freedom. Beneath her swirling thoughts, it occurred to her that she had felt bound by the death of a man for her own gain. A recurring dream of that sturdy neck twisted by a rope was cleansed from her mind, and a vision of a rotting corpse in a wooden box disappeared, never to be recalled.
“But how? I saw him buried. How—could—this—be?”
Her fine brow showing a puzzled frown, she walked about her chamber and considered this more deeply.
Bondsman? Ralston was responsible for all bondslaves coming to Los Camellos. But how did Ruark come? The Hampstead? Nay, there were no bondsmen sailing on it. Only the Marguerite!
Good lord! Right beneath her nose!
Hysterical laughter threatened, and she flung herself back across the bed, throwing an arm over her eyes as if to shut out the vision of those smirking amber eyes.
Chapter 6
SHANNA STAYED AWAY from the hills and the plateau on the south side of the island. When bondsmen were brought in from the fields, she made it a point to be elsewhere. Whenever she rode Attila, she was careful to stay close to the village or the grounds of the manor. But as she saw no more of Ruark, her apprehensions eased.
Nearly a fortnight had passed when her father urged her to take a ride with him in his carriage, since he had some business in the high cane fields.
“We’ll take a basket of food along,” he said, looking at her and almost smiling. “Your mother and I—we would all go on an outing. You used to love to chew on a stick of cane.”
Growing uneasy at his own nostalgia, Orlan Trahern cleared his throat sharply.
“Come along, girl. I haven’t all day, and the carriage is waiting.”
Shanna could not refuse him and smiled at his suddenly brusque manner. In the barouche and upon the road, she considered her father. Since her return he had become more tractable. Or was it herself? When he was wont to rave on some minor point, she no longer challenged him or argued with his idea, but rather let him rave on until he had worn his
ire thin; then, smiling and gentle, she would calmly agree, or disagree as might be the case, firmly but without the open antagonism of before. And he would snort and carp a bit if she stood against him or smirk and preen if she were with him. She could almost say he valued her opinion and recognized that often she held more insight than he did.
The air in the hills was cooler, the breezes refreshing. Patiently Shanna waited when the carriage paused here and here while her father talked with overseers or left for a moment to see to some trifling matter. They stopped to eat and then resumed riding. They came onto a large cleared field in the center of which a strange wagon was being drawn at a slow pace by mules. A wide cloth shade spread out on either side of the wagon like the wings of a bird, and beneath it a file of men with bags of seed and long sticks walked along poking holes and dropping the seeds into them, pressing the dirt back over them with their bare feet.
In alert attention, Trahern sat forward in his seat and stared past his daughter at the odd contraption. He waited eagerly for the overseer, who was hurrying to the carriage.
“Aye, sir, he’s a smart one that,” the overseer answered her father’s question. “We cleared the field in record time, just cut out the big trees and burned the rest. He said the ashes ‘ud sweeten the soil. And then, that thing ye see there. Why, a man would have to take a bag o’ seed from the shed, an’ ‘fore an hour were passed he’d be back for more seed, to take a rest and a drink. That ‘ere tarp gives ’em shade, and the wagon has seed and water, so we got the field almost planted. Cleared and planted in a week. That’s good, ain’ it, squire?”
“Aye,” Trahern agreed. He paused for a long time, observing the progress of the planting. Shanna saw that one man stood apart from the rest and did not labor as the others. His back was bare and though it was turned toward them, there was something oddly familiar about him.