A Heart for the Taking (37 page)

Unable to bear Sam’s painful scrutiny any longer, Morely dropped his gaze to the floor. “I am a coward, Sam. I should have spoken to you about this years ago, but I could not. ’Tis a terrible thing that I am suggesting, and with only coincidence to give it any credence, I was afraid that you would not believe me. That you would think I was simply trying to cause trouble for Constance. I always kept thinking that there would be a better time, that one day the good Lord would send me a sign that it was time to speak or something would happen that would make my telling of that night imperative.” He smiled sadly. “But somehow the years just went by. I was busy with my own family, Chance was growing up strong and happy with Andrew and Martha, and you and Letty seemed to have dealt with your grief. I did not want to open old wounds or cause new ones.”

“And now?” Sam asked, his voice thick and rusty. “Why do you speak now?”

“Because I am an old man now. I know I am not immortal. Chance saved my life the day of his wedding. It was like
a sign, and I realized I had waited so long, I risked dying without having told anyone what I knew.” His eyes lifted to Sam’s hard blue eyes. “I owed it to Chance,” he said simply.

Silence fell, both men lost in their own thoughts. After a long time, Sam said heavily, “Tell no one what you have told me. I will not have Letty learn of this until we know the truth. I do not want her overset.”

Morely nodded. “Do you believe me?” he asked painfully.

“I believe you,” Sam said harshly. “This is too wild and improbable a tale not to be true. The question is, who is Chance Walker? Was his birth that night and physical aspects some incredible coincidence?” His voice grew icy. “Or did my wife give birth to twins that night, one alive and one dead? And did my stepmother, or someone following her directions, deliberately abandon the living infant to die in the elements? They would not have left the baby there to be found the next day. It must have been planned to throw the child in the river, only your approach frightened them off.”

“I wondered from time to time,” Morely began hesitantly, “if some other woman had given birth that night, too. And if she disappeared, jumping into the river but leaving behind her child.”

Sam smiled mirthlessly. “You think that Chance might be my bastard? That I sought solace in another’s bed? That I made a mockery of my wedding vows to my beloved Letty and drove another woman to such despair that she took her own life? For shame, my friend—you know me better than that.”

Morely flushed. “I doubted it, but it seemed as likely as the other.” He took a deep breath. “Are you very angry with me?”

Sam sent him a level glance from beneath his brows. “Angry? Angry does not begin to explain the emotions I feel right now. You have just told me that Chance could very well be my son and that you have suspected it for years. From everything you have said, I agree with your suspicions: Chance Walker is my son!” Sam’s fist hit his desk
with a loud crash. “Yes, I am angry with you, furious and deeply wounded. And yet . . .” He brought his emotions back under control and muttered, “Despite everything, I would not willingly destroy a lifetime of friendship.” Bleakly he added, “I could have wished you had spoken decades ago, but I understand many things now, such as why you managed to keep Chance always under our noses and were always enlisting my help in his behalf. I am thankful for that.”

A weight slid off Morely’s shoulders. Uncertainly he asked, “But what are we to do now? We still have no proof.”

Sam smiled like a tiger, his resemblance to Chance very pronounced. “Then it is up to us to find proof, isn’t it?”

Devil’s Own

There is something in the wind.

William Shakespeare,

The Comedy of Errors

D
arkness had fallen an hour previous to the arrival of the newlyweds and their party at Devil’s Own, so Fancy was denied her first eager glimpse of the place that was now to be her home. Lanterns, both on the wagons and carried by Chance and Hugh, had lit their way through the night, and only occasionally did she catch a hint of the changing landscape. From her swaying perch in the wagon, she gradually became aware of a feeling of openness. That sensation, coupled with the sight of fewer and fewer trees and brush outlined by the wavering lantern light, made her certain they had left the woodland behind. When she spied the tobacco plants growing at the edge of the narrow path they followed and, shortly after that, a strip of rail fencing, she knew that their destination could not be far ahead, and a sense of excitement swept through her.

The wagons began a slight ascent, and ahead of them, through the darkness, Fancy saw flickering lights and the vague outline of a building. A few minutes later the wagons halted in front of the house, the light from inside spilling outside: the wide covered front porch was lit on either side with an ornate pair of lanterns. A half dozen broad steps led to the porch, and just as Chance helped Fancy from the wagon, the double doors of the house were thrown open and a neatly garbed gentleman came outside.

A merry smile wreathing his weathered face, the man exclaimed, “Welcome! Welcome to Devil’s Own, Mistress Walker. We have been eagerly awaiting your arrival.” He sent Chance a look. “The house has been too long without a woman’s touch.”

Leaving Hugh to see to Ellen and Annie, Chance led Fancy up the steps, saying dryly, “That is strange coming from you, Jed, considering that your excellent wife, Martha, keeps the house in exemplary condition.” Glancing down at Fancy, he said, “This is Jed Thompson. He and his wife came to me as indentured servants over ten years ago. By the time they had fulfilled the terms of our contract, I had discovered that my house could not be without them, and they had decided that working for me was not such a terrible fate.”

Reaching the porch with Fancy at his side, Chance stopped in front of Jed. “My wife, Fancy,” he said simply. “I trust that you and everyone at Devil’s Own will serve her with the same diligence and care that you have shown me.”

Jed bowed to Fancy. His hazel eyes twinkling, he said, “Mistress. It will be our pleasure to serve you, and I hope that we will always give satisfaction.”

Fancy murmured a warm reply, instantly liking this small red-haired man, and allowed him to usher her inside.

Because of the darkness she had not been able to tell a great deal about the house from the outside, but entering the spacious hall, with its elegant spiral staircase disappearing into the upper reaches of the house, she was able instantly to set to rest whatever doubts she might have had about her new home. The heart-pine floors gleamed with polish, crystal and brass wall sconces held expensive bee’s wax candles, and a delicate candelabra hung from the high ceiling, its golden light dancing across the tall gilt mirror and long mahogany sideboard that sat against one wall. Several arched doorways led off the hall, and from one of these a tiny, buxom woman came bustling forward, her blue eyes shyly meeting Fancy’s.

Hurrying up to them, she dropped a swift curtsy and said, “Welcome to your new home, mistress. I am Martha, Jed’s wife.”

“And the best cook in the Colonies, too,” Chance said with smile.

The remainder of the party entered the hall just then and more introductions were made, although Hugh needed none, as he was obviously well-known to the Thompsons. Tired from her jolting ride in the wagon, Fancy was glad when, just as soon as the initial flurry of their arrival had died down, Chance said, “Martha, if you will show Ellen and Annie to their rooms and see to their needs, and Jed, if you’ll tend to Hugh’s wants, I shall escort my bride to our rooms.” He glanced down at Fancy and smiled crookedly. “Tomorrow will be soon enough to explore your new home. From the look of you, you are longing for your bed.” To Martha he added, “Have Maryanne bring up a tray of light refreshments to our rooms after you have settled everyone.”

Bidding all good night, Chance took Fancy’s arm and led her up the spiral staircase. At the top of the staircase they entered another handsome hallway, and he ushered her along. Finally he stopped at a door and said with surprising diffidence, “Your rooms, madame. I hope you find them satisfactory.”

Fancy smiled softly at him, her eyes shining. “I am sure that I will.”

Bringing her closer to his tall length, he stared down into her face. Brushing his lips tantalizingly across hers, he murmured, “Mine are just next door. There is a connecting door between the suites. I have sworn not to make love to you during this month, but I trust you recall where you are to sleep.”

Fancy half scowled at him. “As if you would let me forget.”

He laughed and threw open the door. Her breath held expectantly, Fancy stepped inside, Chance following directly behind her. It was a beautiful room that met Fancy’s gaze, spacious and airy. A lovely needlework carpet in soft shades of rose and cream lay in the center of the glistening pine floor; a pair of wing-back chairs in a deeper rose color sat near one of many windows, a small table of mahogany and pine between them. The four-poster bed was a delicately carved affair, and the bed hangings and curtains draping the many windows were of printed cotton in the same soft shades as the carpet. A variegated silk coverlet of cream, rose, and green lay over the feather-filled mattress, and with pleasure Fancy noted that the marble on the tables near the bed and the washstand were pale green and blended charmingly with the decor.

There were more furnishings in the room, but letting out a sigh of delight, Fancy turned a pleased face up to Chance and said, “ ’Tis a lovely room, Chance. I shall spend many happy hours here, I know.”

Shutting the door behind them, he murmured, “They will be exciting hours, too, once you let me join you in that bed.”

A blush suffused her cheeks and she said hastily, “Does that door lead to your rooms?”

Flashing her a wry glance, he nodded. “Yes, and our dressing rooms. Would you like to see them?”

Very conscious of his warm body standing close behind her, and terrified that if he should touch her, she would forget it was her idea to wait to resume intimacies, Fancy said quickly, “Perhaps just a brief glimpse? I
am
rather tired.”

The dressing rooms were comfortable and commodious; Chance’s bedroom was larger than hers, the ruby-and-gold colors of the hangings and curtains as bold and masculine as he was himself. Averting her eyes from the massive mahogany bed that dominated the room, she said brightly, “It is very nice, too.” She gave a little yawn and added, “Oh, my, but I did not realize how
very
tired I am. Do you mind if I retire now?”

Chance turned her gently around and she found to her excitement and alarm that she was effectively trapped by his strong arms as they settled around her waist and pulled her
closer to him. Then he kissed her, a warm, lazy kiss that sent her senses spinning.

Gazing down into her suddenly desire-flushed face, he said softly, “Fancy, I do not intend to leap upon you every time we are alone. I told you that I would give you time. I will. Do not fear me.”

She smiled up at him mistily, unaware of how very tempting she looked with her cat-slanted eyes golden with emotion, her mouth rosy and damp from his kiss. “ ’Tis not just you I fear, husband,” she breathed huskily, “but myself as well.”

What could he do after that disarming admission but kiss her again? His arms tightened and his mouth found hers, his lips warm and demanding as they stood there locked together.

Drowning in his embrace, Fancy swayed in his arms for endless moments, feeling the seductive sweep of desire flowing through her. It was his hand on her breast, the fingers shaping her sweetly aching nipple, that brought her back to the present.

She gasped and stepped swiftly from his arms. “You promised.”

Chance sighed. “Fool that I am.” His eyes narrowed. “But tease me again as you just did and I am afraid that I shall be forced to take back my promise.”

“Tease you?” Fancy flashed back, defensive and embarrassed at the same time. Had she teased him? She had not meant to. Not meeting his eyes, her color much heightened, she muttered, “I did no such thing. You simply took what you wanted.”