Chapter 21 #3
Alyssa was silent for a moment, then said shrewdly, “We shall worry about such things later. I’ll leave you now.
Should you need any assistance, there’s a cord by the bed.
Give it but a tug, and Dulce will come. Choose what you will from the wardrobe—and for heaven’s sake, let me burn these things you’re in! ”
Alyssa departed with a little smile. Brianna could not resist the tub, and in seconds she had peeled away her prison-tainted clothing and fallen into the delightful steam.
Yet she felt no real pleasure from it. The steam seemed to surround her heart and mind, and she felt no pain either—just a terrible dullness and lethargy.
She discovered then that if she did not allow herself to think, she would not feel anything, and she would not hurt.
All the gowns in the wardrobe were exquisite, but Brianna didn’t much care anymore.
She chose a dress in a dark russet with a minimum of ornamentation and came back down the stairs.
Alyssa and Rikky were arranged across from one another on wide armchairs, and a large black woman was serving tea in delicate china cups.
“Michael is taking a nap, Brianna,” Alyssa informed her quickly, noting the anxious look about her eyes.
Brianna nodded. “Thank you.”
“Ah, Brianna!” Rikky came to his feet, eyes sparkling. “There is the beauty I’ve come to know and cherish. Dulce”—the black woman turned to him with a broad grin—“Brianna. Brianna, should you ever need anything, just call upon Dulce, or her man, Jeeves.”
“Yes, miz, you just call on Dulce!” the woman said.
Brianna tried to smile. Smoothing down her skirts, she murmured, “Thank you, Dulce, but I intend to give you little trouble—and to find a position of my own as soon as I might.”
There was a strange silence in the room; then Alyssa stood, pouring tea for Brianna. “I think I’ve a solution for you. You may work here. Dulce is rather helpless with a needle. I shall hire you on as a seamstress.”
“Oh, no—” Brianna began to murmur, but Rikky interrupted her.
“Your son is happy and healthy here. Would you risk his health and well-being on a foolish matter of misguided pride?”
There was a sharp rap on the door. Dulce went to answer it, and as the door opened, Brianna heard Sloan’s voice, low and smooth, with his trace of accent.
He chuckled over something Dulce said, then came to the drawing room.
He was dressed rather magnificently in navy breeches and a red shirt and his sword; a gold-trimmed coat lay over his arm, for the sun had risen high and the day was warm.
His eyes fell on her, quite coldly, but he did not approach her. He came to Lady Alyssa instead, smiling rakishly as he kissed her hand. Then he greeted Rikky, and at last said, “Good day, Brianna.”
“Good day,” she replied simply, and lowered her lashes, aware that he was surveying her with a wary curiosity, as if she were some unique thing to be explored.
“So how is the dear governor?” Rikky inquired.
Sloan laughed. “Patting himself upon the back for being the shrewd realist that he is and berating the officials of Massachusetts for allowing such a thing to go on.” He chuckled again.
“I’ve a mind that if they were stringing up none but poor old hags, he’d not be so concerned about the matter.
But he’s had friends among the accused, and so he has made himself a certain kind of hero. ”
Brianna stood as Sloan spoke. With her eyes low she spoke to Alyssa. “If you will forgive me, I would like to—be alone today.” Being around Sloan penetrated that fine wall she had created, and she did not want that.
She returned to the beautiful room Alyssa had given her and threw herself onto the bed. She stared up at the ceiling. Think nothing, and you will feel nothing, she reminded herself.
She did not know how long she had lain there when the door burst open. She rose, startled by the sound. Sloan stood there, as rigidly cold and angry as he had been the night before.
“I thought you should like to know,” he told her harshly, “that I have arranged for Robert Powell’s burial. He will be taken to South Church in Boston for interment.”
Brianna lowered her eyes. “It is another thing for which I must be grateful,” she said coolly. “I will do my best to repay you.”
“Will you?” He inquired dryly. “I want nothing from you, Brianna—except that which is mine.”
She stared at him again, very alarmed by the tone of his voice. But he was already giving her a mocking bow. “You needn’t fear my presence here. I’ve work to do, and I’ll not be back now—for some time.”
The door closed. She lay back down, still feeling nothing.
He was leaving, he had said. She could stay here and see that Michael had decent food and care and surroundings while she decided what to do.
In time she heard Michael’s voice, calling her name petulantly, as if he needed to assure himself that she was there. She rose and hurried to him.
Rikky left with Sloan aboard the Sea Hawk. They traveled south to Virginia for a tobacco shipment and to deliver mail from New York.
At a tavern there the two men began to drink together, and in time, they were well warmed and near drunk.
“Lord Cedric!” Sloan confided drunkenly to his friend.
“If you were me, what would you do? Gentleness will have no bearing on the lady—nor does patience fare me very well. Where have I made a mistake? I should be able to comfort her—I cannot. Perhaps I should stay away longer—I cannot, for I don’t trust her.
The child is mine, and I intend to take him. ”
Rikky took another long draft of his ale, then clanged the tankard against the table.
“Here! Here! You’ve made no mistake, my friend, except to love too deeply and too well.
I think I understand our lass in question.
For the suffering she has caused, she feels that she must suffer.
Misguided fool as she is, I don’t believe she’ll ever come to you on her own. ”
Sloan inhaled sharply. “She loves me!” he said vehemently. “By God, I would swear it!”
“Oh, aye!” Rikky laughed. “She loves you. But she will not accept it. My advice to you, Lord Treveryan—captain of the sea but not of his own heart!—is to take the matter into your own hands. Produce this document given you by her husband, now at rest. She will cease assuming that she has legal recourse! Give an order—and it will be followed. And when you sail away from the coast of tragedy, she will come to terms.”
Sloan scowled as he watched Rikky, then stood so abruptly that he almost knocked the table over. “Come on—we’re leaving.”
“The tavern?”
“Nay, Virginia.”
“Tonight? You’re scarce fit to sail the ship!”
“I’ll not sail her—Paddy will.”
When he sobered and they were in New York, Sloan hesitated about returning to Lady Alyssa’s house.
Rikky laughed, taunting him. “Are you afraid? Is the lord of countless battles afraid of one slim lass?”
“Rikky, you press me sorely.”
“Wake up, then, Treveryan! You are as bad as she!”
“Umm,” Sloan muttered. “Then let’s get on to your aunt’s house, shall we?”
It was nightfall when they came. Dulce informed them that the ladies had long been abed.
Sloan started determinedly for the stairs. “Lord Treveryan,” Dulce said, “I done told you that they’s asleep.”
“And I heard you, Dulce. Thank you.”
He came to her door, but it was locked. He banged on it. She came, anxiously and half asleep. When she saw him, and the tense thunder about his face, she paled immediately and drew into the room.
“What are you doing here?” she asked him raspily, and in her blue eyes he saw nothing but cool defiance. Yet his heart was touched too; she was in a simple white gown, laced at the throat, and the desire she could kindle too easily touched him like a rampaging fire.
“I must return to London and Wales,” he told her curtly. “I leave tomorrow—with Michael.”
She gasped. “You cannot! He is by law my son. You—”
He caught her shoulders and pushed her heedlessly into the room, back to the bed, where he forced her to sit.
“Sloan Treveryan,” she warned fiercely, “you cannot do this! We are not alone in some desperate place! You cannot push me so and manhandle and—”
He laughed, and placing one booted foot crudely on the bed so as to lean his elbow upon his knee, he produced from his pocket the document that Robert Powell had given him.
“Read it, mistress. I am taking the child. Now, you may stay behind, if that is your choice. I shall go to London and claim him before the king and queen, and he shall be legitimized as my son. Then you will never see him again, for I am finished with traipsing around the world to drag you from one disaster after another. Or …”
He let the word trail.
“Or what?” she spat out furiously.
“I can take you with me. But if you do come, you will stay with me. And you will repay me. Every night that I so choose, you will repay me.”
“I am a widow!” she cried out to him. “How can you be so callous and—such a bastard!”
“Brianna, say whatever you like, feel whatever you like. But I have decided that I can no longer play this game. You will curse me however you like, but under your breath you will still whisper to me that you want me. When I come to my cabin tomorrow night, you will be waiting, bathed and clean and fresh and smelling like roses—and with a meek pretense of eagerness!”
He spun on her then, quickly, and left the room before she could reply. He closed her door and leaned against it—and smiled as he felt the reverberation of her pillow crashing against it.
He chuckled then, certain that Rikky was right. But to be on the safe side he hurried down the hall to the room where his son slept. He stretched out carefully by the little boy, amazed again that the child could be his own flesh—and so very much like him.
Minutes later, he heard a soft scampering of footsteps down the hall. The door creaked open and she entered, and started to tiptoe for the bed.
“Nay, Brianna,” Sloan said softly, and she jumped. “I’ll not take my eyes off him until we’re far at sea.”
“Bastard!” she hissed, and a slight sob escaped her as she ran from the room.
Sloan touched his son’s hair. “I know that she loves me,” he whispered. “She just does not know how to reach for happiness anymore.”