Chelynne (19 page)

“Then see her wed,” John offered.

“Aye, it’s done now. She’s promised.”

John saw the sad droop of her eyes and knew at once it was not her choice, but her father’s.

“But, lad, the vile and crude habits of the man on the hill would set your blood to boil. It’s come to the time when no man would have a wedding in this godforsaken shire. With the aid of an ale or two the devil will take the maid of his choice to his bed and let her walk the distance home when he’s through with her. Was not so long ago he stood in a young groom’s stead for the wedding night. My Tess will wait with the wedding for a time and if it must be sooner it will be secret. I’ll not let that scoundrel plunder my own flesh. By God, I’d kill him myself first and at least lie happy in my grave.”

John was silent as he digested this. It was not one of the worst things about Shayburn he had heard. It was not even very uncommon. It happened in other shires, the law of the master being so absolute. And who would dare question? Their tongues would be cut out for the protest.

“We cannot live with his ways, but neither can we flee or stay him. He holds us in a bondage we cannot fight. Aye, you’ll have support here, John, as much as you need. They fear him, but not one is loyal to him.”

“Are you sure, then, that the time has come?”

“Aye, whenever you say.”

“If not the first snowfall, then the second. Whenever it’s thick enough on the ground to slow a horse and chill a guard through to his bones. The first attack will be as we planned. I’ll need only a fast horse and a strong hand. The men in your confidence will do the rest. Lend your faith to your friends, Rath. If they show their true colors to the baron, we fail.”

“Aye, lad. Shayburn will see us suffering our hurts as we never have before. You can depend on these people, John. They know the way of suffering well.”

“Good, then. The place?”

“When the heaviest clouds are above, the stable will be loosed of horses and they’ll be moved to other sheds. It won’t be sorely missed and God willing, spring will bring us a newer, finer one.”

“God willing,” John confirmed. He clutched the man’s hand. “My thanks, friend.”

Rath’s eyes clouded with an uncertain emotion. “Never thank me again, lad. I could not accept thanks from a man who offers us the only hope we’ve seen in over twenty years.”

John’s eyes flicked over Tess and then went back to Rath, the question bright and burning in them.

“Nay,” Rath said with some assurance. “He’s vulgar and he’s mean, but he’s not slow witted. I don’t think he’d dare touch what is mine. I’m his only friend here. I caution the fanners to work and spare their backs the lash. With me gone there’d be no one left to urge them on. They would either lie down and die or risk life and limb to get away. They’re broken bad enough as it is.”

“I wish I could promise you this end we seek will be met and the land mine. It could be willed otherwise. It could go to some other man, a favorite of Charles’s petitioning for lands. We’ll get one thing done, Rath. We’ll get the devil out and hope for the best. Let’s pray while we work.”

Rath laughed heartily. “Aye, I’ll pray, lad, but I think I haven’t much of a voice for that either. The Lord don’t look too kindly on a man with as many sins as mine.”

“Tread carefully, Rath. I’ve need of a good man here.”

“I’ll see you start the planting, John. Have no fear.”

John left the Rath house and walked out into the clear night. He paused and listened to the quiet sounds, comfort coming to his breast at the thought of this being a happy place once again. Anticipation of the events to come gave him energy as he walked behind the houses to the shadows where his horse stood. He glanced briefly at the stable and pondered the night he would raid his own village.

He whirled instinctively at a sound behind him and frightened a yelp out of the creeping shadow with his quick movement. They were two in the dark and neither could see the other’s face clearly, but they listened to each other’s breath in cold contemplation.

“John?” said a small female voice.

“Tess! I wish to Christ you’d stop this foolery! You could’ve been anyone. I might test you with the blade the next time!”

She laughed a little. “Oh, monstrous beast! You would have me believe you would slay a man whose identity you don’t even know? You may wish me to believe you are that ruthless, but I know otherwise.”

“Was something forgotten?”

“Nay,” came the answer he expected.

“Did your father send you after me?”

Again the expected response. “Nay.”

“Then you’ve come as the other times. He thinks you abed?”

A small giggle came from her. He knew that she held a fondness for him. It was in the eyes of the maid, and it was unmistakable. And even here in the darkness he was acutely aware of the fair beauty of her face and the ripeness of her young body. “You shouldn’t follow me like this,” he lightly admonished.

“Of course I should not.”

“But then why do you come?”

“To be with you once again.”

“What of your betrothed?”

“I do not love him.” She shrugged. “And I do not think you’ll spoil me against my will.”

“And risk your father’s anger? But what do you expect of me?”

“As always. A lecture on the evils of toying with strange men and then you will send me away.”

He laughed in spite of himself. “Your husband will have a hard time handling you.”

“Oh, those ties will bind me soon enough. I’ll not cause him undue trouble. Now, while there are no ties, I should like to see where my frolics lead me. Tonight they lead me again to you.”

“Tess, you need a thrashing badly. How many men have you chased down in the night?”

“You are the first,” she said with a shiver.

He pulled her wrap a little tighter around her and as he did so she moved closer, nuzzling against him in the process. The freshness of her hair rose to his nostrils and aroused his senses. He embraced her lightly. “You’ve made a mistake in coming here, Tess. You’re not a little girl anymore. You’re a woman now, and you tempt a man.”

“Your troubles are many, sir. You must ever deal with temptations.”

He pushed her away from him to see her face in the moonlight. “You little minx! What game do you play with me?”

“No game,” she whispered breathlessly.

He covered her mouth with his and warmed to the response on her part. Releasing her, he muttered, “That was not your first kiss.”

“I confess it was not.” She shrugged. “But the finest ever, I vow.”

He laughed softly. “You outrageous little witch. You posture here before me like an anxious little harlot. What is it you would have me do?”

“Please,” she whispered, lowering her eyes. “I dare much, but do not think me a whore. Truly, I am not that.”

“I know that,” he began.

“It’s the whole of my life to be lived out here, living till I die in the same house that saw my birth. The farmer I am to wed is good and kind, but I feel no great stirring for him. What harm is there in one small taste of dreams before I settle myself to my fate?”

“One small taste?” he laughed. “Do you lust after me, Tess?”

“I had not thought so brazenly on what I’ve done. But I’ve wondered after you long, and many of my musings would be cursed by my father. For too long I’ve wondered at the greatest distance. Am I truly so foolish, John? Am I so shameless for coming this far at the first stirring I—”

She was pulled swiftly into his embrace and he moved over her mouth with searing hunger, her body crushed against his. There was a glow within her that mounted and grew and she knew a wanting never before felt within her young body. Her arms could not meet against the broad expanse of his back and her legs were not long enough to reach her to him, so he held her easily off the ground. She felt as though they would blend together permanently from the molten contact, never to be separated again.

She groaned in misery as he set her again on her feet. With a startling weakness her head dropped against his chest and he held her there, stroking her hair, tenderly embracing her. She heard the quickened breathing within his chest...it matched hers.

“A taste?” he said hoarsely. He lifted her chin with a finger and placed a light kiss on her lips. “There now. Will that taste make your life so much easier to bear? Ah, Tess, I am not a foundling youth to play at passion. If I hold you a moment longer I will find us a bed of hay and make love to you.”

She trembled slightly, from fear or anticipation she did not know. He kissed her again, quickly and lightly. “Go home, Tess. Good night.”

The cold air struck her with a crushing blow as he whirled away and was gone. She ached for the strength and warmth of him, but instead she heard the steady footfalls as they sounded farther and farther away. With another shiver she turned and made her way back to her house, back to that other life she led: daughter to simple Talbot Rath, betrothed to Stephen Kilmore, yeoman farmer.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Summer was becoming a memory as England faded from its green into the promise of cold rain and snow. Fires had to be stoked through the day as well as at night and the halls and galleries of Hawthorne House were damp, dark and cold. A cloak hung on a ready peg to be donned before passing from room to room.

Tanya healed, her face taking on a bright appearance in lieu of the cuts and bruises she had previously worn. Time brought the blessing of proof that she would not bear the child of her crude lord, but the mental scars were deeply embedded in the child still. There was a pain in her eyes that bespoke maltreatment and depravity. And she would not, or could not, speak.

Chelynne, with a patience almost saintly, kept the girl strictly to her rooms. Always either Stella or Chelynne was near her, not allowing the slightest misfortune to befall her. Tanya thrived on the love of these two and eventually began to smile her pleasure over small things. She took great care with her grooming and clothed herself neatly with the money Chelynne allowed her. Now she looked like any neat and trim little maid reared to take her place serving in a stately home. She was industrious and courteous, though silent.

Tending Tanya was more than an act of charity for Chelynne. Tanya was a project that gave her rest from her other worries. But the time came when Tanya no longer needed Chelynne’s constant guidance and Chelynne returned to her mirror, trying desperately to mold her face into a womanly one, hating the childish features she felt so self-conscious about. She studied Chad from a distance, for he was never very near, and she had come to believe that her youth was the cause of his indifference to her. He was such a man of the world, so knowledgeable and determined, even in his walk and his manner of stance.

Chelynne watched him often from her window as he stalked to the stable and rode out at a hurried pace. There was always some business calling him off, drawing him to his study or the desk in his own bedroom. Since she had come to Hawthorne House his visits with her had been dutiful, obligatory ones, courteously asking her if she had any needs or complaints. When he noticed that she had been supervising all the household help, inspecting the cooking, cleaning and serving, he told her it was not necessary. That was his reason for keeping the steward. Of course that meant to her that it was not only unnecessary, but unappreciated.

In the midst of her monotony a note came from Lady Graystone informing them she would be paying a visit. Chelynne was elated, hoping that a friendship with this woman would perhaps show her the way to become more experienced, more learned in the ways of women of her station. She was determined to make the effort to call Lady Graystone into her camp, and failing that would at least watch every movement and gesture and later learn to apply them for her own use.

In spite of the efficient steward Chelynne made ready the guest apartments, tasked herself with menu preparations, and set every servant alert to the needs of the baroness. It did not distress her that Chad seemed uninterested in this visitor. He seldom showed much interest in anything that was not business. Recalling the divine manner with which he greeted guests at the ball before their wedding, she assumed he could act the part of a congenial host without any coaching.

At last the good lady arrived. Chelynne had gone to great pains with her appearance, hoping to put forth her best. She was in awe of the woman’s regal nature, her coach drawn by eight white horses, footmen, driver and horsemen neatly attired in the red livery of her house. She descended with the flair of any queen and her hair and throat sparkled with jewels. Her velvet gown draped her well-endowed form handsomely, cut low to expose the most beautiful bosom Chelynne thought she had ever seen. Chelynne sighed her appreciation quietly, so intent on this sophisticated creature that she completely missed Chad’s black scowl.

Totally ignoring Chelynne, Lady Graystone extended her hand to Chad. He bowed somewhat stiffly. “Greetings, Gwendolen. Good of you to visit.”

“The ride was a dusty one, my lord,” she said with a laugh. Her eyes went briefly over Chelynne and she gave a little nod. Chelynne wore her admiration openly, her smile warm and her greeting sincere. Gwen almost laughed. Chelynne was grateful for the visit! “Might I have some time to freshen myself before tea?” Gwen asked her hostess.