A Heart for the Taking (38 page)

“If I had taken what I wanted, Duchess,” Chance drawled, a devilish glitter in his blue eyes, “you would be lying on that bed with your skirts tipped up and me lodged securely between your soft thighs.”

Ignoring the rush of heat that went through her at his words, she brushed past him and said tightly, “You are crude, sir. I will not stand here and listen to you a moment longer.”

Chance let her go, but he followed her to her room. Lounging against the doorjamb, he murmured, “And I am your husband. Remember that, sweetheart. You married me.”

Remembering just how he had connived that state of affairs, Fancy bristled. “You tricked me into marriage, do not forget. That is precisely why I want some time to, to ...”

“Grow used to my crude, barbaric ways?” he drawled.

“Exactly.”

There was a gentle tap on the door and Chance strode over to answer it. A small young woman stood there, twisting her hands together nervously. Her hazel eyes brightened when Chance smiled at her. Ushering her into the room, Chance said to Fancy, “This is Martha’s youngest daughter, Charity. While she cannot claim to be a fully trained lady’s maid, I am sure that you will find her services adequate.” Pushing Charity forward, he said, “Charity, this is my wife, Fancy, your new mistress. And you will soon see that she is not the ogress you fear.”

Charity blushed hotly and sent a beseeching gaze in Fancy’s direction. “Oh, mistress, I never once—”

Fancy smiled warmly at the young woman, whose bright red hair and small buxom stature would have proclaimed her Jed’s and Martha’s daughter even without Chance’s introduction. “Do not pay him any heed,” she said kindly. “I am sure that we shall deal very well together, Charity. I hope that you find helping me a pleasure and not a trial.” She shot her husband a look. “As I am sure your parents have found Chance to be upon occasion.”

Chance laughed. “Yes, I am sure that they have.” He gave Fancy a mocking bow and said, “I will leave you in Charity’s capable hands. There are things that I must see to, having been gone for much longer than I had originally planned. Her sister, Maryanne, will no doubt show up in a few minutes with some refreshments. Good night, Madame Wife.”

Charity proved to be eager and helpful, and by the time Fancy was comfortably ensconced in her bed and ready for sleep, she had also met Maryanne, enough like Charity to be
her twin, except that Charity, at eighteen, was five years younger than Maryanne. After having partaken of the chicken soup and thick slices of bread and butter that had accompanied the light meal, Fancy waved the two young women away, hardly able to keep her eyes open.

She was deeply asleep when Chance slid into bed beside her. Pulling her close to him, he murmured into her ear, “The bargain, sweetheart, have you forgotten it?” Fancy made some sort of sleepy protest and then proceeded to snuggle deeper into his arms. A smile on his face, Chance fell asleep.

When Fancy woke the next morning, hot bright sunlight was spilling into the room and there was only the indentation in the pillow next to hers to show where Chance had lain. Not wishing to dwell upon the situation between her husband and herself, eager for her first glimpse of her new home, she sprang out of bed and hurried to one of the windows. Pushing aside the printed cotton, she looked outside. A smile of pure pleasure lit her face as her eyes fell on the great green expanse of grass, interspersed with towering oak and magnolia trees, that lay before her. The land sloped gently downward toward the shining silver of the river in the distance, and she spied a sizable dock built out into the flowing water. A wide road that ended in a broad sweeping circle in front of the house divided the view in front of her. To her left she saw a large, rail-fenced pasture, half a dozen mares busily cropping grass while their foals gamboled about. Aflower garden lay on the right, delightful walkways edged with bright blooms of pink, yellow, and purple, the faint scent of roses and spicy stocks wafting on the warm air.

Fancy had not known what to expect at Devil’s Own. The memory of Chance as she had first seen him in his wellworn buckskins had always been at odds with the fine clothes and elegant manners she had observed at Walker Ridge. She had been intensely curious to see which man his home more resembled. For all she had known, the rich attire he’d worn at Walker Ridge had been the sum of his wealth, and Devil’s Own could have been a dank and ramshackle log cabin set in the shadowy, sinister depths of the forest.
Turning away from the window, she admitted she was very glad that her new home was
not
the dungeonlike cabin that had occasionally flitted through her thoughts. There was much about her new husband that was a mystery to her, and she realized uneasily that she had been forced to entrust her very life into the hands of a man she knew little about—other than the disagreeable fact that his slightest smile warmed her heart and his lightest touch set her on fire. Her lips twisted.
Not
a strong foundation upon which to build a marriage. Then she shrugged. There was no use repining, and she could console herself with the knowledge that at least she had a more than adequate home in which to live—instead of that imaginary hovel.

Devil’s Own was not nearly as grand, or as impressive, as Walker Ridge, but in some ways that pleased her. Having lived a number of years in the huge, palatial ancestral home of the Merrivale barons, she was looking forward to a home in which she would not get lost—as she had done several times in her early days as the new Baroness Merrivale. Devil’s Own, she thought happily, seemed to be just about perfect. Smiling to herself, she rang for Charity. She could hardly wait to start exploring.

Several hours later, an extremely amiable Chance at her side, Fancy acknowledged that her initial excitement had not abated one whit; if anything, it had grown. As she had guessed, the house was not overly large. It boasted a mere six bedrooms compared to the almost twenty that Merrivale Manor had possessed. But each was spacious and as charmingly furnished as one could wish, and she found herself thinking with pleasure that the house was perfect— comfortable and more than ample in size, yet somehow retaining a beguiling coziness.

Pride evident in his voice, Chance pointed out that the original portion of the white clapboard house was two and a half stories high, with wide porches at the front and rear and a hipped roof with dormer windows and towering chimneys at either side. Four years previously, he explained, he had added the large one-story wings at each end of the first
structure. The effect was now one of elegance and graciousness. There were outside blinds on all the windows, which were painted a deep green and gave the house a crisp, clean look. Lilacs and trumpet-flower vines and honeysuckle twined around the columns of the covered porches, their shiny dark green foliage contrasting pleasingly with the blinding whiteness of the house.

At the rear of the main house, the outbuildings—the kitchen, the smokehouse, the laundry, a dairy, a weaving house, and Chance’s office—spread out in an ever-widening circle, and beyond those neat structures were the houses and cabins where the servants and all the other people who worked on the plantation were quartered. Since the majority of the workers at Devil’s Own were either indentured servants or those, like the Thompsons, who had served out their contract, there were few slaves, and housing consisted of fewer than a half dozen small cabins in a staggered row. Beyond the outbuildings Fancy could see the stables, several large buildings and barns that Chance promised to show her another day. Beyond that area were the drying sheds for the tobacco.

The plantation was more like a small village than a lone outpost in the verdant wilderness, and as she and Chance wandered about, Fancy was struck by the comparison. There was a bustling air about the place; people hurried here and there, busy with their various tasks. Chickens clucked and crowed, the sounds of the milk cows’ lowing could be heard, and the frequent calls and neighs of the many horses punctuated the air, as did snatches of conversation and laughter from the humans.

After returning to the house following a light meal they had all eaten together, Hugh disappeared in the direction of the stables, where Chance was soon to join him. The other ladies retired to their rooms for a brief nap during the hottest part of the day, and so it was that Chance and Fancy were left alone again for a few minutes. Leaving the confines of the house, they chose a cool, shady spot nearby to sit and enjoy the view of the river, and their conversation was aim
less until, a twinkle in his eyes, Chance said, “I am sorry to desert you so soon after your arrival, but I have hardly had time to acquaint myself with the English horses I purchased. I have been far too busy chasing after a different spirited and lovely English filly.”

Fancy choked on the lemonade she had been drinking, glad that there was no one else around to hear his outrageous comment. But, gathering her wits about her, she said tartly, “Filly? Oh, no, my dear sir, I fear that you have been misled. Surely a barren mare is more apt?”

Chance smiled lazily and, gently running a finger under her chin, leaned nearer as he lifted her face to his. “Barren? I doubt that. I believe that this particular creature has never been mated with a truly potent stallion.”

Fancy flushed clear up to her hairline, but she could think of no jesting comment. Their careless teasing had hit a raw spot. Painfully she said, “I think you will find the fault is with the female, sir. The, er, first stallion had already sired three sons, but with . . .” She stopped, her eyes suddenly shimmering with unshed tears. She had longed desperately for a child when she had first been married to the baron, and since there was ample proof that
he
was fertile, as the years had passed and she had never become pregnant, she had been certain that the fault lay with her. It had been a bitter blow, and she had long ago sadly buried the idea of one day having a child of her own.

Aware of her distress, he kissed her gently on the nose. “We shall see, shan’t we?” He smiled down at her, a smile that made Fancy’s very bones melt. “And if your words prove true, sweetheart, then I shall still consider myself as having made an excellent bargain.”

Fancy was grateful for his kindness, but it only added to her confusion about him. He had shown himself to be a crafty scoundrel in the manner in which he had gained her hand in marriage; he had almost admitted that he had done it in some mad quest to take revenge on Jonathan, and yet . . . And yet . . . Fancy sighed. Would she ever understand him?

*     *     *

The ladies were left to their own devices for the remainder of the day, and after the worst of the sticky heat had abated in the late afternoon, the three women began to explore farther afield than the confines of the house.

With an odd feeling of pride, Fancy showed Ellen and Annie many of the things and places that Chance had shown her earlier in the day, pointing out the various buildings and their purposes. Despite the waning of the day, there was still much activity going on—children playing, dogs barking, and adults hurrying around on last minute errands before dusk fell.

Her eyes sparkling as they wandered over to a large pasture to watch the antics of the foals, Fancy said, “And to think that Constance worried that I would be bored or lonely.” She could have bitten her tongue as soon as the words left her mouth and she saw the flush that stained Annie’s pale cheek. Hastily she added, “But it is so nice not to be thrust right into the middle of a crowd of strangers. Do you know many of these people, Annie? I certainly hope so, or Ellen and I are going to be at an utter loss.” Sending the older woman a smile, she continued, “Thank goodness Constance suggested you come to stay with us for a while to help me through the first awkward days. Have you ever been to Devil’s Own before?”

Utterly disarmed by Fancy’s kind manner and speech, Annie relaxed somewhat and said simply, “No, I have never been here before, though I have heard talk of the place. Mister Sam had spoken of it often. He is very proud of what your husband has accomplished in such a short time. But I do know quite a few of the servants. Over the years many of them have accompanied your husband to Walker Ridge from time to time.”

Despite her initial reservations about Annie’s inclusion into her new household, Fancy had discovered the previous day, during their long journey to Devil’s Own, that the older woman tried very hard to please and was actually an enjoyable companion, given a little encouragement. Today further confirmed Fancy’s growing good opinion of Annie, but she
was a little puzzled by Constance’s behavior in thrusting the woman at her. Chance had already indicated that Annie always looked at him as if she expected him to sprout two heads, and since she and Ellen were utter strangers to the other woman,
something
must have made a sojourn to Chance’s home seem attractive to Annie herself.

Unable to help herself, Fancy asked, “Do you usually do much traveling and visiting when Mistress Constance gives you leave to do so?”

Oh, I have never gone anywhere without Mistress Constance before,” Annie admitted candidly. Realizing that her reply was going to raise questions in Fancy’s mind, she muttered, “That is, I do not like to travel by myself. I usually accompany Mistress Constance most places and so have had no need to go on my own.”

“I see,” Fancy said slowly, a little frown between her eyes. Constance’s insistence that Annie come with them had bothered her from the beginning, and now Annie’s admission that she normally traveled only with Constance added to Fancy’s puzzled unease. Why had Constance wanted Annie to accompany them? To spy on them? Her nose wrinkled. That did not seem very feasible; she and Chance had nothing to hide. So why had Constance insisted that her trusted servant come to Devil’s Own with them?

Fancy couldn’t come up with any answer that satisfied her, but since Annie was proving to be pleasant and might actually be helpful during the coming weeks, she dismissed the speculation about Annie and Constance from her mind. She had far more interesting things to consider: the baffling actions of her husband for one thing and Ellen’s foundering romance with Hugh for another.