“ ‘Tis a widespread name, and though we Beauchamps can usually trace back to a common origin, I do not claim to know everyone by his given name. Perhaps there are some I am not acquainted with.”
“No matter, captain.” Shanna shrugged it all away with a sigh. “I am sorry to have troubled you with my impertinence.”
“No trouble, madam, and indeed, no impertinence.”
With his thumb, he tamped the coals into the bowl of his pipe. His hands were huge, and though they appeared to have the strength to squeeze a cannonball in two, they were amazingly gentle, and the slim clay pipe seemed like a fragile bird between them.
“ ‘Tis my pleasure, madam, and be assured—to discourse with a woman on a moonlit night on a tropic isle can never be a trouble. And with you, Madam Beauchamp,” his tall shadow bowed briefly, “it has been a pleasure beyond compare.”
Shanna laughed and waved a hand toward her loose hair and dressing robe. “You are gallant, sir, to so grace my blighted appearance, but you have made my evening. I shall bid you goodnight, Captain Beauchamp.”
Nathanial paused for a moment before he answered. “Whatever the beginning or the end of it, I consider at this moment that you honor the name. Goodnight, Madam Beauchamp.”
Shanna was still musing upon his words when she realized the shadows surrounding her were empty. Without a sound or a stir of air, he was gone.
The early morning breezes swept through the intricate latticework, stirring the potted greenery in the informal dining room. The sea-freshened air brought with it the fragrance of jasmine which bloomed alongside the veranda, mingled with the tantalizing aroma of hot, glazed meats, bread, brewed coffee, and tangy fresh fruits that graced the table for the morning meal and presented to Captain Beauchamp as he paused in the doorway a most heavenly scent after long months of sea fare.
“Good morning, Squire Trahern,” Nathanial greeted.
Trahern turned from a copy of the Whitehall Evening Post, which he received in small bales from his ships. It was his only remaining link with London after years of separation.
“And a good morning to you, sir,” the older man returned jovially. “Sit and join me in a bite to eat.” He beckoned Nathanial to take a chair beside him. “A poor thing to start the day on an empty belly, and I speak from experience, if you please.”
“Aye,” Nathanial chuckled, accepting a cup of steaming coffee from Milan. “Or a slab of salt meat ripe with age.”
Orlan Trahern gestured to the newspaper propped before him. “Peacetime quickly separates the real merchants from the warmongers.” At the captain’s raised brow, he continued. “Almost anyone can turn a tidy profit during a war, but only the good merchants manage to stay afloat when the country is at peace. Those who made their money skimming the king’s barrels and shorting the navy’s powder with sand cannot compete on an honest market.”
“I shall yield to your wisdom on the matter.” Nathanial leaned back in his chair. “Treachery is dealt with harshly in the colonies, and, although a certain amount of caution is due, one rarely meets with a cheat.”
Now it was Trahern who leaned back in his chair to watch the other. “Tell me more of this place, your colonies. The idea of going there fascinates me.”
The captain toyed with his cup for a moment before he spoke. “Our land is in the foothills of Virginia. Not so much settled as Williamsburg or Jamestown, but there is much to be said about it. Green rolling hills, forests for miles on end. The land is rich with opportunity for poor men and wealthy alike. My parents raised a family of three boys and twin girls in what most people would term an uncivilized land. In turn, each of us but the youngest lad, who is coming to a full seven-and-ten years next month, and one of the girls who is a score of summers old, have married and, God willing, will raise up their families with as much success. We have been called hearty, because we survived. Perhaps we are. But ‘tis love and pride in our land that has made us so. If you could but see it, sir, I’m sure you’d understand.”
Trahern nodded thoughtfully. “I will come.” He thumped the table and laughed with his decision. “By damn, I will come and see it all.”
“I am glad, sir, but I doubt you will see it all.” Nathanial Beauchamp, too, was elated. “There is land beyond us as far as a man can walk in a year. I have been told of prairies like the sea where if a man does not mark his way he will become lost, for he can see naught but grass. There is a river to the west so wide it is a strain to see across and beasts the like of which have not been seen in any other part of the world. There is a strange deer, taller than a horse and with antlers like huge shovels. I tell you, sir, there are wonders in the land that I cannot describe.”
“Your enthusiasm is amazing, captain,” Trahern chuckled. “I had expected most colonials to be a tired, carping lot.”
“I know of no other land as beautiful, sir, nor one that promises as much,” Nathanial replied, subdued, a trifle embarrassed at his own outburst.
Both men paused as the front door of the mansion closed. Footsteps could be heard coming across the marble floor toward the dining room. The sound stopped in the dining room doorway, and Trahern twisted around in his chair. Ruark stood with one hand on the jamb, surprised to find the older man occupied. Mumbling an apology, he half turned to leave.
“Nay, John Ruark. Come in, lad,” Trahern bellowed and faced Captain Beauchamp. “Here is a man whom you should meet. A colonial like yourself, he is. He has made himself most valuable here.”
As Ruark approached the table, Trahern introduced the two. They shook hands briefly. The captain, with a twisted grin, looked pointedly toward the short breeches Ruark was wearing.
“You have adapted yourself to the climate here very well, sir. On occasion I have coddled the idea myself, but I fear my wife would be much distressed at the sight of me gallivanting around like a half-dressed savage.”
Trahern’s belly shook with muted mirth as Ruark seated himself, casting a dubious glance toward the captain.
“ ‘Tis a fact Mister Ruark has turned a few of the ladies’ heads with his garb. Whether from shock or approval remains to be seen. When I see which of the young maidens grows fat-bellied with child, perhaps I’ll have the answer.”
Under Nathanial’s amused scrutiny, Ruark shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He readily accepted a cup of the steaming brew from Milan and paid close attention to the servant filling his plate. While the black man fetched him a bowl of fruit, Ruark changed the subject and spoke to Trahern.
“I came for the sketches of the lumber mill if you have finished looking them over, sir. We want to start laying the first stones this afternoon. The brewing house will be finished before the end of this month, and I see no reason for delaying.”
“Good enough,” Trahern declared. “I’ll have a boy fetch them from my study while you eat.”
The conversatiton drifted to a myriad of topics, and the subject of the colonies arose again. To the squire’s inquiries, Ruark replied in much the same fashion as the captain. As the breakfast was concluded, Nathanial wiped his mouth on a napkin before laying the cloth aside, and turned to Trahern.
“While you are in the colonies, squire, it might be convenient for you to have someone along who knows the country, like this man here. My wife and I have a house in Richmond, but my parents’ home—and I’m sure they’ll want to meet you—is about a two-days’ journey from there. If you are serious in coming, I could take my wife on ahead to my folks and send the carriages back to meet you. The drivers know the way of course, but you might want one of your own men along.”
Ruark frowned slightly. His one thought was of Shanna and being separated from her. With him in the colonies and her left behind, he would not see it as a very pleasurable voyage.
“Of course! Of course!” Trahern agreed enthusiastically. “ ‘Tis a good thought. No doubt Mister Ruark would enjoy a visit to his homeland.”
Ruark fought the sense of pervading gloom that began to grow in him and was no
t completely successful in hiding his consternation.
Nathanial Beauchamp gave Ruark no notice as his laughter rumbled. “And you must bring your lovely daughter. She is sure to catch the eye of every swain there, including several of the married ones. My parents would count it a pleasure to have you both as guests in their home and anyone else you choose to bring with you. Indeed, I urge you to invite whom you will and stay long enough to settle your curiosity about the place.”
“October, perhaps,” Trahern mused aloud. “Or thereabouts. ‘Twould be after the harvests in the colonies, and I could see, then, what produce you have available.” He rose from his chair and met Nathanial’s hand across it as he, too, came to his feet. “Agreed. We’ll be there.”
As Trahern and the captain crossed the foyer and left the house, Shanna stepped back out of sight on the stairway and waited until Jason had closed the door behind them and returned to the back of the house. Then she flew down the steps, hoping to catch Ruark before he was gone. Her concern was as much modesty as secrecy, for she had come awake at the sound of her father calling back a question to John Ruark from the entrance hall, and in her haste, she had snatched only the thinnest dressing gown to cover her brief sleeping attire. She sought this chance to speak with Ruark and found him with his back to her, whistling softly as he gathered parchments into a stack on the table.
Ruark rolled his sketches into a neat bundle and tucked them beneath his arm then turned to leave. He stopped abruptly, his whistle hanging in mid-phrase and tapering away on a reedy discord. Shanna was just closing the door behind her, a determined set to her jaw as she fixed him with her gaze.
“Blimey!” Ruark mimed in a cockney accent. “A veritable nymph springin’ from the blank walls to force me attentions in the dining room. And a bloomin’ near-naked one at that.”
Momentarily Shanna’s eyes flickered downward, and a light blush warmed her cheeks as she realized the boldness of her garb. Hurrying to catch Ruark, she had left her dressing gown hanging open, and the transparency of the batiste nightshift left nothing from his regard. Still, he had viewed more than this, indeed had more than viewed what she displayed, and she felt no more than a fleeting embarrassment at his close appraisal.
“Well, Mister Ruark, you certainly have made yourself scarce. I missed you at dinner last night.”
As she spoke Shanna left the door and came toward him warily, like a hungry cat might approach a large gander, seeing the meal it desired but deeply aware of the danger of drawing too near.
Ruark smiled lazily, his eyes glowing as he took in her abundant beauty and admired the full swell of her pale breasts beneath the filmy garment.
“Only the demands of my duty, Shanna. The mill is nearing completion. As much as I longed to be near you, my presence was required.”
“Of course.” Shanna stared at him with open suspicion. “I saw your note to my father. A most convenient occurrence, if there is anything between you and this other Beauchamp.”
“Madam?” Ruark’s brows raised to mirror his spoken question.
“Or perhaps there is too little between you.” Shanna cocked her head slightly aside, contemplating him. “Am I in truth Madam Beauchamp? Or was that only a convenient choice for you?”
Ruark shrugged casually. “I’ve no way of proving that to you, Shanna, but would not the magistrate have verified such a name? And of course you asked the good Mister Hicks for my name before you ever saw me, so I had no choice in the matter of names then. Call yourself Madam Beauchamp, but if you cannot accept that as truth, then call yourself Madam Ruark, or whatever you will. But I swear—”
“Enough!” Shanna held up her hand. “Do not swear. Make no more oaths or bargains to me. The last we made together has already cost me dearly.”
Ruark studied her closely. “You’ve been quite distant of late, Shanna. Perhaps there is something you wish to tell me?”
He let the question hang but lowered his gaze pointedly to the smooth, flat belly little concealed by her light garment.
Shanna caught his meaning. “Have no concern, my lord dragon.” Her voice mocked him lightly. “I do not bear your child. But to my other question. You have met this Captain Beauchamp?”
“Aye, love.” Ruark flashed a grin. “We dined together this very morn.”
“And you say that you be no kin of his?” She almost held her breath, waiting for his reply.
Ruark stared at her as boldly as she at him. “Madam, if he were, can you say me one reason why I would still be here?”
Shanna’s curiosity changed slowly to perplexity. Finally she dropped her eyes and turned away from him.
“Nay.” Her voice was low. “That bemuses me. And of course you would most certainly leave here and be free—if you could.”
Ruark moved close and slipped an arm around her below her breasts, raising it beneath them so the gown gapped away from her, revealing their creamy roundness to his downward gaze. Shanna did not resist or pull away, but she sighed shakily.
“Do not handle me so, Ruark. I will not take the risk again, for ‘twould all be for naught.”
His lips touched her ear as he murmured, “Then I will leave you, maiden nymph, and be on my way—for a price.”
Shanna turned in his arms until she faced him.
“Only a kiss, my love,” Ruark teased. “A tuppence or two of your time. A tiny bribe as it is. A sweet, small candy to taste the whole day long.”
Shanna saw the price as a small one and an easy way to be rid of him. Raising on tiptoes, she touched her lips briefly to his then would have stood away, but his arm held her close. Ruark sighed as if disappointed.
“Madam, by no miser’s warped imagination would that be called a kiss.” He smiled into her eyes as he chided lightly. “I see you have returned to your old ways.”
Shanna had played the game of coquette on many occasions and chafed that he should again accuse her of being cold or naive.
Lifting her arms, she laid them around Ruark’s neck and half pulling him down, moved her body slowly in a seductive way, her thighs bare against his and her meagerly clad breasts caressing his chest. She had learned much from him, and now she used that knowledge in a most provocative manner, giving him a kiss that could have set the whole Black Forest ablaze. It was enough to sap the very strength from Ruark’s limbs. Yet it was not all one-sided as Shanna had intended, for she was as much a victim of the scalding kiss as he. It was a strong, intoxicating nectar; once sipped it only begged the more to be consumed. When she finally drew her lips away, she did not pull back but tried to steady her trembling limbs. They stood thus, each enjoying the nearness of the other.
“Ah, Shanna,” Ruark breathed softly. “A taste of such rare, fine fare is more a torture than delight.”
Shanna sighed against his throat as her fingers threaded through the short, curling hair at his nape. “Then for torture did you beg and another bargain fairly struck.” Her eyes shone into his. “But as has been my wont, I will give you thrice the price that you need not sore belabor my honesty.”
She reached parted lips up to his, moving them slowly and touching his with her tongue. Beneath the flowing robe, Ruark’s arms tightened around her, and the kiss intensified as he slanted his mouth across hers, feeding greedily of the honey sweetness.
“Harrumph!” The throaty sound shattered their moment asunder.
Shanna snatched away from Ruark, her first reaction anger at being so rudely interrupted. In the next moment it congealed into a lump of cold fear in her belly. The very thing she had been afraid of had finally happened. They were discovered. As she stared at Captain Beauchamp, the cold knot grew, filling her until she trembled. Wishing for something more substantial to cover herself, she clutched the dressing gown before her in tight fists, acutely aware of its thinness. Her mind raced on in blurred confusion as she fumbled lamely for any excuse.
The briefest of moments had passed before Nathanial spoke. “I beg your pardon, Mister Ruark—Madam Beauchamp
.” He stressed the names oddly. “I forgot my pipe and pouch.”
Without waiting for their assent, he crossed the room to his chair and retrieved the articles from the table and then paused again at the door. His smile had a strange quality as his eyes touched them each in turn. His fingertips brushed his brow in the briefest of salutes.
“Good day, Mister Ruark.” And with a quick nod to her, “Madam Beauchamp.”
Without another word he turned and closed the door gently behind him. It was some moments before Shanna could find her voice, and when she spoke it was as if she were certain of her words.
“He’ll tell my father. I know he will.” She stared at Ruark, despair written on her pale face. “ ‘Tis over—all my plans for naught.”
A flicker of a frown crossed Ruark’s face, but he sought to ease her worry. “He seemed a good enough chap to me, Shanna, not the kind to run and tell. But I have cause to be on the docks today. I’ll stay close and should the chance present itself, I’ll talk to him and try to explain—something.” He shrugged. “I don’t know what.”
“Would you? Would you really, Ruark?” Shanna brightened a small shade. “Perhaps he’d understand if you’d put it right to him.”
“I’ll try, Shanna.” He took her trembling hands in his and kissed her fingers. “If all goes awry, I shall at least try to send you a warning.”
“Thank you, Ruark,” she whispered gratefully. “I’ll be waiting.”
Then he was gone from her, and Shanna slowly made her way back to her rooms. The rest of her day was spent in nervous waiting. From moment to moment she expected her father to arrive, breaking down the doors as he sought her out; or a messenger from Ruark with word that she should flee; or Ruark himself to state all was well; or the whole lot of them, including the captain, to accuse her and have the whole thing out. All sorts of imaginings flew through her mind, and she could not sit still long enough even for her hair to be combed. With unusual patience, Hergus waited three times for her mistress to be seated before the task was done.