Midnight Rose (32 page)

He astounded her then by saying, lips curving in a secret smile, that perhaps she would like to ride over to Quincy Monroe’s farm the first of the week and see her new filly. He didn’t mention the night he had originally planned to surprise her with the news. He didn’t want to stir the memories of his disappointment over her rejection of his invitation to his bed.

“You’re going to give me my very own horse?” she cried, and when he nodded, she did get up and rush around to fling her arms about his neck. “Ryan, I don’t know what to say,” she cried, laughing at the same time.

“Don’t say anything,” he commanded huskily, holding her close. “Just show me.”

It was so hard at such moments, Erin thought wildly, to hold back, lest he discover how very much she was starting to care. Yet, as long as he wanted her only for his physical needs, she wasn’t about to let her feelings be known.

His touch was gentle. He captured her mouth with his, exploring, tasting, caressing, in a tender seduction that sent her senses reeling. She moved closer still, offering herself eagerly, welcoming his hands over her body, yielding to his touch. He lifted her skirt to slide his hand along her bare leg, dancing slowly upward between her thighs, and she began to move, her arms twined about his neck to hold him tight against her.

Sudden pounding on the partially open door caused them to spring apart.

Erin almost tumbled to the floor, and as Ryan quickly grabbed her, they looked at each other and tried to keep from bursting into laughter at the sound of Eliza’s irate voice. No doubt but that she’d spied on them before knocking.

“Master Ryan. Will you be taking your supper in there or at the table?”

His gaze lustily locked with Erin’s, he called back, “Mrs. Youngblood and I will both be having dinner in the dining room tonight. Have Ebner bring up a bottle of my best wine from the cellar.”

They heard only the furious shuffling of her feet as she retreated. As usual, she did not acknowledge her orders.

“I still don’t see how you put up with her,” Erin couldn’t help saying. “She isn’t even civil.”

“I just don’t pay her any mind, Erin. You’ve got to learn to do that with my mother, too.”

His voice had a bit of an edge to it, and she wondered whether the irritation was directed at her, for being annoyed, or if he himself was dreading the time when his mother returned. She did not ask, did not want to engage in any kind of serious discussion for the remainder of the evening, fearful of bursting the happiness bubble that had suddenly appeared.

It was later, while she was bathing and preparing to dress for dinner, when Annie suddenly burst into the dressing alcove. Obviously excited over something, she didn’t speak but quickly glanced around as though making sure they were alone.

Just as Erin was about to ask impatiently what it was all about, Annie reached into the pocket of her apron and withdrew one of the few remaining roses that were still in bloom.

Erin felt her pulse quicken. The rose could only mean that Mahalia would be in the center of the labyrinth at midnight.

She, too, had memorized the diagram and was positive she could find her way in. The trick would be slipping out of bed if Ryan was beside her, and after their torrid embrace in the study, that seemed a certainty. She told herself there was no need to get nervous now. All along, she’d known that sooner or later the nocturnal rendezvous would begin. She’d just have to take them in stride and not give herself away by being anxious.

Despite her resolve, dinner seemed to take forever. It was nearly ten o’clock by the time they went upstairs, and it was all Erin could do to keep from shaking, because she was so nervous. Sometimes Ryan would torture them both by prolonging their ecstasy, and she hoped this night would not be one of those times.

She need not have worried.

So ravenous was he that he apologized afterward for not being able to hold back, even though she was pleasantly satisfied. “Later…” he murmured, lips pressed in the hollow of her throat as he held her. “Later…again, and again…”

She had not responded, for she was afraid he would hear the lie in her voice if she attempted to be as eager as he was for more passion later in the night. Instead, she lay very still, pretending to fall asleep right away.

They were lying in his bed. When she finally heard his even breathing, she moved carefully to untangle her arms and legs from about him. By the time she stealthily crept from his room, the hour was quite late. She knew she would have to hurry.

She did not take time to dress but pulled her robe on over her gown. With hair tumbling about her shoulders, she slipped on her shoes. Taking the small amount of money she had been able to get her hands on to give to Mahalia, she was on her way.

She let herself quietly out the French door leading to the terrace. The light of a half-moon in a cloudless sky illumined the way as she ran across the lawn. The wet grass licked at her ankles as she lifted her hem. Her heart was pounding, and she prayed Ryan would not awaken to find her gone from his bed. If he happened to glance out the window, he would be able to see her running in the moonlight.

The labyrinth loomed ahead like ghostly sentries joining hands to hinder entrance to the netherworld. Erin supposed she should be frightened. After all, one wrong turn, and she might possibly find herself confused and trapped in the maze. And who would find her? Not Mahalia, for never would she dare call out for help and maybe trap her accomplice as well. What would be her explanation to Ryan when he did, at last, have to go in to lead her back out? So many terrifying contemplations, but all she had to do was think of Letty and Ben and Rosa and all the other tormented souls, and she felt brave enough to continue. If she could help only one runaway find peace, then her efforts would not be in vain.

Within the intricate shrubs, there was scant light. Erin was concentrating so hard to remember the diagram, she broke out in a cold sweat. Groping along, arms straight out on either side, she would reach an opening and, by memory, count which one it was and determine whether to turn left, right, or keep on going.

She had practiced reaching the center twice in the past days, closing her eyes to simulate the darkness she knew she would have to cope with. She would have liked more rehearsals but was afraid of arousing suspicion. She felt as if Eliza was trying to spy on her all the time, anyway.

She was sure she was going in the right direction, and when at last she stepped into the square and saw the benches and the fountain softly gleaming in the moonlight, she gave a soft gasp of relief.

Mahalia was nowhere around, so she sank down on the bench to wait. She felt deeper anxiety to think how Mahalia might become lost on her side of the maze. Erin thought she had memorized that part too, but hoped it would not be necessary to find out for sure.

Finally, when she heard the sound of cautious footsteps approaching, she breathed a sigh of relief, only to freeze in instant terror as she heard a man’s voice softly call her name. “Miss Erin…Miss Erin…don’t be afraid…”

Shakily, nervously, she got to her feet and stammered, “Who…who are you?” She began to back up toward the other side, preparing to dart back within the shrubs to hide, even if it meant becoming lost.

Quickly hearing, sensing, her rising terror, he called, “Mahalia sent me.”

He stepped into the clearing, and Erin strained to see him in the silvery shadows. He was white. She could tell that much. Tall. And he wore a wide-brimmed hat. No facial features could be distinguished from where she stood, but as he also made her out in the shadows and approached, some of the tension began to fade. After all, she reminded herself, the only way he could have known and used the right path to the center was if Mahalia had shown him the diagram. That meant she trusted him.

“My name is Sam Wade, and I’m a Free Soiler.”

“A Free Soiler,” she echoed in relief, then stepped forward to hold out her hand and warmly greet him. “Did you have any trouble coming through the maze?”

“No. The diagram you drew was very clear. I committed it to memory, then took a rowboat from across the river. I spent all day yesterday scouting around to make sure that area, as well as the banks around the dock, was isolated. It’s perfect for our needs,” he finished, sounding satisfied and impressed.

Erin took the money out of her pocket, suddenly self-conscious to be standing there in her nightclothes with a strange man. “Well, you know the plan. When you’re going to be here, have someone leave a rose at the grave. I think every two weeks will be sufficient, and there might even be times when I don’t have any money to give you, but this is the best I can do.

“So…” She allowed her voice to trail off, signifying there was nothing else to say. She did not want to tarry and knew she could not begin to breathe easy till she was back inside the house.

But Sam had other ideas. With a quick shake of his head, he protested. “I’m afraid you’re wrong, Miss Erin. It
isn’t
the best you can do. There’s a lot more you can do for the cause.”

As she listened warily, he proceeded to explain that the Free Soilers had to ask something of her besides money. “This is the perfect spot for fugitives on this side of the river to hide and wait for a boat to pick them up at the dock. They can slip inside the entrance to the labyrinth during the night. Annie can check every morning to see whether a rose has been dropped there. She’ll know then there’s a runaway in there, and she can get word to you. You can slip out that night, at midnight, and take them through. Leave a rose on the dock. We’ll have someone checking every day. They’ll drift by, like they’re just out fishing, and when they see a rose, they’ll know to make a pickup at midnight.”

Erin listened dizzily, amazed he had it all planned so carefully, but she was hesitant. “It’s too risky for me. And how do you know Annie, anyway?”

“Annie is already involved. She knows all about the Free Soilers, just like a lot of other slaves, but not one of them is going to tell the wrong person anything.”

Grimly, Erin informed him, “The head housekeeper, Eliza. She’ll tell in a heartbeat. The other slaves despise her.”

He said he was well aware of that. “But everything will take place at night. The only risk is your being able to slip out of the house at midnight without being seen. I know it’s a chance, but it’s one you’ve got to take. There will be a lot of people depending on you for their lives.”

“But if I get caught—”

“You won’t. Besides, you can teach Annie the way, and nights you don’t dare try to go out, she can make the run for you. You can take turns. We need your cooperation,” he persisted in near desperation. “We need to know we can count on that rose being placed on that pier to let us know there’s a runaway slave who needs to be helped on his way north.”

Erin bit her lower lip thoughtfully. She had wanted to help but had not realized just what it would entail, how deeply she would be swept into the underground.

She stepped closer to try and distinguish his features in the faint light. She guessed him to be in his late twenties, early thirties. He was startlingly tall, appeared to have powerful shoulders, as best she could tell. His face was ruggedly handsome, she decided. His eyes were dark and piercing as he tried to gauge what she was thinking of him. His hair was also dark, touching his collar. He was dressed in slouchy clothes, as would be expected of someone prowling around riverbanks in the night. “Just who are you?” she asked slowly, evenly. “How is it you’re able to travel about and talk with the slaves and find out so much? And why is it I’ve never seen you before, since you know so much about what goes on here at Jasmine Hill?”

“I used to sell elixir, but now I’ve broadened my offering of merchandise,” he told her in his deep, mellow voice that was so strangely reassuring. Inclining his head in the merest hint of a mocking bow, he grinned. “At your service, of course, madam, but the fact is, I don’t ordinarily deal with slave owners, just their overseers and their head housekeepers, butlers, and such.”

“Of course,” she cried softly then, remembering. “Ben told me about you. He said you told them how a runaway named Micah was safe and living in a colony in Meadville, Pennsylvania.”

“Was,” he corrected with a lilt of enthusiasm. “I just got back from Pennsylvania day before yesterday, and once Mahalia told me about you, and how you’re going to be one of us, I got so busy checking out the river and this place that I haven’t had a chance to get the news to Ben that his friend is on the way to Sierra Leone. He got scared when he heard your stepfather had been up that way, spreading the word he was doubling his bounty on his runaways. Micah had been working very hard for a farmer, and he’d managed to save a little bit of money. We were able to get him some false papers saying he was free, so we could get him on board a ship transporting legitimate freed slaves.”

“I’ve heard about that. I was in Philadelphia not long ago myself.” She told him of her meeting with Parson Jones and was surprised when he confided he already knew about it. With a bemused shake of her head, she laughed. “I guess there’s nothing I can tell you about me that you don’t already know.”

He became quite sober. “Yes, there is. I don’t know if
you’re willing to go along with my plan.”

Erin knew that, despite the risk involved, she could not refuse. “All right,” she said finally, giving him a brave smile she did not truly feel, “but Annie will probably be making most of the runs. If I slip out at midnight too often, sooner or later I’ll get caught.”