Pirate of My Heart: A Novel (10 page)

A sudden gust of wind tore at the carriage and caused Kendra’s hat brim to press around her face like a fluttering veil.

Angelene shrieked and grasped Dorian’s upper arm, clinging to him.

Gazing at the sky, Kendra’s brows knitted together in concern. The clouds were whipping up into a frenzy and headed right for them. She clung to the side rail as the carriage swayed back and forth with the wind. After a few more minutes, huge drops of rain began to pelt the carriage. Dorian slapped the reins, trying to keep the frightened team under control as the rain began to come down in earnest.

“Lady Townsend, grab the side of the top and help me pull it up!” Together they tugged on the leather cover but the sides of the carriage were open so the flimsy covering did little good. Within minutes they were all drenched and the road, as rough as it had been, grew muddy and slippery. “This may be worse than I thought!” Dorian yelled. “We may have to stop and take cover.”

Kendra nodded her head, fear rising in her throat. This night reminded her of the thunderstorm that had taken her father from her. And they were in a carriage with unfamiliar horses.

A strike of jagged lightning, close by, and the boom of thunder caused Angelene to scream and cover her face with her hands.

“Look, do you see that?” Doran pointed to a weathered gray building in the distance.

Kendra nodded, shivering so much that she didn’t think she could speak.

They struggled through, taking only minutes but what seemed like hours to reach the building. One of the horses jumped with fright, the other reared, as the lightning zigzagged across the sky. Kendra had never felt so cold and soaked through as they pulled up into the yard of a ramshackle, abandoned barn.

There was no door so Kendra rushed from the carriage, Angelene just behind her, and ran into the dark, leaky building. Dorian and John unhitched the horses and led them one by one to the stalls on the far side of the barn. Dorian shouted in delight at finding some hay that wasn’t too damp and then walked over to where Kendra was scouting through the dim light for a lantern or candles.

Kendra found a nub of a candle on the floor and rubbed the dirt off with the corner of her skirt. “You wouldn’t happen to have flint, would you?”

Dorian reached into his pocket, showed her the flint and stone, and gave her an admiring look that made a happy thrill rise in her chest. “Gather anything that looks worthy of making a fire and I’ll have one warming us in minutes.”

Kendra was shivering so hard her teeth were chattering as she gathered scraps of wood that had fallen from the walls and roof. Water dripped from the ceiling, making mud puddles on the dirt floor and increasing the smell of musty hay. There was an ancient-looking cookstove in one corner. After some pushing and pulling she managed to get the door open and shove the wood inside. “I think I have enough for a decent fire.” She looked over her shoulder toward Dorian. He came over, squatted in front of the open door, and struck the stone to the flint. After a couple of tries, he had a nice little flame eating through the rough, dry wood. “I hope the stovepipe works. If it’s clogged, we’ll be in for a heap of smoke.”

Angelene stood in front of the fire complaining. “What a mess this is! I’m so cold. We need to get out of these wet clothes before we catch our deaths!”

Kendra stood as close as she dared and held out her hands to the growing flame. Her clothing began to steam as the wet cloth warmed. She shot Angelene a startled look at her comment. What did the woman propose they do? Strip down to their shifts in front of the men? They would just have to stay close to the fire until they dried out.

Her stomach made a loud rumbling noise. Dorian looked up and grinned, ignoring Angelene. “Hungry?”

Kendra bit down on the side of her lower lip and nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

John ran inside, his back hunched over a basket of food to keep it dry. He motioned toward the three of them. “Good thing I thought to bring this along in case we didn’t make it to the inn in time for supper.”

Dorian clapped him on the shoulder. “You have always had a knack for taking care of our stomachs. Let’s have a picnic, shall we?” He opened the basket and pulled out a large loaf of corn bread, a pot of ham and beans, and an apple pie. “A feast, John. Thank you.”

“How long will we have to stay here?” Angelene wailed, not appearing the least grateful for the food.

“The roads will be impassable after this storm and I won’t have light enough to drive around the dangers. We will leave first thing in the morning, I promise. Kendra will be home before tomorrow is out.”

“But, we can’t possibly spend the night here! Where will we sleep?” Angelene’s pout was almost comical.

Dorian’s face was grim. “We have no other choice, Angelene. Let’s just make the best of it, shall we?”

Kendra looked away. An image of herself curled up next to Dorian, he holding her in his arms flashed through her mind as bright as the lightning outside. She took a big bite of the corn bread and forced the image away. Tomorrow she would be home.

Her new home.

That was the only thing she needed to be concentrating on right now.

Chapter Ten

T
he yellow streaks of morning spilled through the roof’s cracks and onto Kendra’s face, awakening her. She rose, stretching, feeling as if she hadn’t slept at all, and smoothed the wrinkled plum traveling dress. Sleeping on the hard ground had left her body feeling like a stiff old lady.

There was the leftover half of apple pie for breakfast, which they washed down from Dorian’s water canteen, each taking it up, wiping it off with a sleeve, and taking a single swig, except for Angelene, of course, who drew long draughts on the spout. Kendra tried to ignore the wretched feeling that slashed through her every time Angelene took an opportunity to touch Dorian, which was often, and the even more painful jab when he didn’t rebuff her. Kendra was the first to climb onto the carriage seat and didn’t even bother to try and sit in the middle. They obviously had a fondness for one another.

After two long hours of creeping through the muck-filled roads, they came to a Y in the road.

“This is where I’ll be leaving you,” John said with a tip of his hat. He looked into Kendra’s eyes with a kindness that brought a well of emotion to her throat. It was as if he was saying what he couldn’t out loud.
Have courage. Everything is going to be okay.

Dorian stopped the carriage and looked at his friend with a thoughtful wrinkle in his brow. “You know, if Miss Monteiro can manage a horse . . . I could give her one of mine and you could see her home first. It is on your way to Victoria’s—”

John’s eyes widened and Angelene gasped. Dorian turned to her and said in quick staccato, “I do so admire a woman who can sit a horse.” His black brows rose in challenge as he stared her down.

“Well, of course I can ride a horse. It’s just that, it’s so . . . so—”

Dorian chuckled. “You’ll be with my sister all the sooner. Isn’t that why you’ve come?”

Kendra pressed her hands together to keep them from clapping. Dorian was as adept at this game as Angelene it seemed, and the knowledge that he could take care of himself around the forward woman made Kendra feel giddy with relief.

John, though, had a tight, pained expression on his face. “Oh, very well. Let’s unhitch one of them. Do you have a saddle?”

“Oh yes”—Angelene jumped on the statement—“I must have a sidesaddle.”

“Really?” Kendra joined in the fray. “At home I often rode bareback.”

“Bareback! Like the Indians? You must be jesting.” Angelene’s face registered genuine shock.

“Oh, yes. My father, Lord Townsend, encouraged it. I became quite adept.”

“There is no need to panic, Angelene,” Dorian interjected. “I have a saddle lashed to the back with the trunks. Just in case we had difficulties with the carriage.”

Angelene huffed but couldn’t seem to come up with a good argument why she shouldn’t go with John. She took Dorian’s proffered hand and climbed down from the carriage. While they were readying the horse, Kendra hefted the trunk and moved it to her other side. It was past time she was sitting next to Dorian.

Angelene did not miss the maneuver.

“That was neatly done,” Kendra observed as Dorian started the horse and John and Angelene rode off down the other road.

“Do you think so?” Dorian cast her a glance full of mischief.

Kendra laughed. “She’s very beautiful.”

“I suppose so, if one is attracted to dark temptresses.”

“Are you saying that you are not? I should think most men would be flattered by so much blatant attention.”

“I am not most men.”

“No. I can see that you aren’t.” Kendra looked at his strong, rugged profile. “So what type of woman
are
you attracted to?”

“Oh, damsels in distress have always been appealing.” He shot her a grin and Kendra huffed.

“Those are plentiful, I’m sure.”

“Yes, I have run into a few over the years but none have held my attention for very long.”

“Just long enough to rush in for the rescue? The adventure and all of that?”

“That’s about right.” He furrowed his brow as if in deep thought. “I suppose I need a woman who is always getting herself into scrapes.” He cocked one brow at her. “Do you know anyone like that?”

Kendra huffed, looked away, and said in an irritated mumble, “Insufferable, churlish, colonial rogue.”

Dorian threw back his head and laughed.

The next hour was spent in companionable silence until they neared what appeared to be a farm, hacked out of the rough wilderness of this country. Dorian turned the horse toward the front door and Kendra began to feel as if she might be ill. Her stomach rolled as her thoughts sunk from bad to worse. What if they didn’t want her? What would she do? She turned her head to the side and blinked back tears. Stop it. She would not let her mind run wild like this. Surely they would be glad to see her.

The carriage came to a stop. “I think this is it.”

They sat there for a few minutes looking out over the disheartening view. There was a log cabin, small and drab, with two smaller outbuildings behind it. The land to the west had been cleared, showing rows of short green plants that Kendra didn’t know the name of. To a woman who had only lived in a castle with famed manicured gardens all of her life, the reality of her aunt and uncle’s existence made her heart pound with anxiety. How was it they were so sadly situated? They were still of England’s nobility, still had titles, and should have had some wealth, should they not? But then her own family had lost so much, so it didn’t stand to reason to judge them. She would treat them with love and respect, no matter what.

“It’s worse than I expected,” Dorian ground out, his mouth set in a grim line.

“Something of a shock, yes. But the land is nice.” She pointed to a meadow with forest surrounding it to the north. Wildflowers grew in abundance, creating a yellow and purple carpet all around the clearing. Rich black dirt of the fields could be seen behind the house and off to one side, and behind and around it all was thick woodland, filled with leafy trees and the sweet smells of long grass. She took heart in the woods and rocky ledges that met her gaze.

Dorian turned toward her with a startled look of respect. A small, gentle smile formed on his lips as his eyes turned proud. “As you say, my lady, the land is quite nice.” He sprung down from the carriage, went to her side and extended his hand. “Shall we?”

She took it, the tight hold giving her a measure of courage.

They walked arm in arm to the front door, pausing in front of it for just a minute, and then Dorian reached out and knocked. They waited for several moments until a worn-out looking woman opened the door. She stood in a faded blue skirt and yellowed bodice, bare feet poking out from the hem. She looked back and forth at them as if they’d come from another world. “Yes?”

Kendra tried to say something but found herself tongue-tied. Dorian spoke for her. “Madam, we are trying to locate the residence of a Lord and Lady Rutherford, Amelia and Franklin. Is this their home?”

“You’re looking at her,” she said in an unpleasant whine, eyes narrowing. “What do you want?”

Kendra’s knees started to shake as she surveyed her aunt. The woman was of medium height, with a rounded figure, faded blonde hair with streaks of gray, and a wan and wrinkled face. The one reminder of her youthful beauty were eyes of clover green, which now only made her look like a frantic cat.

“Aunt Amelia?” Kendra took a step toward the woman. “I am Kendra Townsend, your sister’s daughter.” She saw a look of startled disbelief change her aunt’s face. “My uncle, Lord Andrew Townsend, wrote a letter of introduction, explaining my need to come and stay with you awhile.” Kendra pulled the sealed letter from her pocket and held it out to her aunt. Her heart pounded as the woman wrinkled her brow, staring at it.

“A letter, you say. Stay with us?” She sounded as appalled by the idea as she looked.

Kendra felt she might faint, although the urge had never occurred to her before
. Oh heavenly Father, what will I do?
“Please. Won’t you just read it?”

“Well, come in,” she backed away, giving them room to enter, “and maybe we can straighten this out. I’ll call my husband. He will have something to say about this.” She turned from them then, leaving them just inside the door as she wandered off to find her husband.

Kendra glanced around the large room filled with mismatched furniture, some English styles mixed with rough-hewn, homemade pieces. A faded, shabby rug covered part of the rough boards of the floor. The walls were bare except for the fireplace. It boasted a spindly mantel with a few knick-knacks—a glass vase, two candlesticks covered in old drippings of wax, and a few small portraits hanging above it. One of the paintings looked to be her aunt, she recognized the green eyes. The painting hanging beside it was of another young blonde woman with piercing blue eyes. Kendra walked closer and sucked in her breath as she realized this smiling woman was her mother. She’d only seen one painting of her mother. It had hung in the blue and gold drawing room back home. Her father told her it was commissioned shortly after their marriage. As a child, Kendra had studied the painting, wondering what kind of woman her mother had been. This aunt, Aunt Amelia, could help answer some of those questions, she realized with a wave of peace coming over her. Aunt Amelia could tell her stories of her mother that her father hadn’t known. Stories of their childhood. Coming here, no matter how dismal it looked, must be the right decision. A sudden excitement and determination filled her chest.

Dorian walked up to join her. “Do you recognize any of these people?”

“Yes”—she nodded toward the painting she was studying—“that was my mother. I’ve only seen one other portrait of her, but I’m sure it is her.”

“She was a beautiful woman. You have her nose and her exact shade of hair.”

Before she could answer that, her aunt entered the room with a tall, slim man. He was still handsome by English standards with fair skin and the aristocratic features of dark brown hair and amber eyes, eyes that were chilling as he looked from Kendra to Dorian and back again. His chin was held at a haughty angle that was familiar to Kendra and, for some strange reason, he actually made her feel more at home.

“Your niece? A letter, you say?” His voice boomed with the familiar English accent. He took the letter from Kendra and broke the seal. He took out a pair of round spectacles from a desk drawer, adjusted them to his eyes, and peered at the letter.

Aunt Amelia edged closer, craning her neck to read over his arm and pulling on his sleeve for a better look. He finally looked down at her long enough to bark, “Cease woman,” upon which she momentarily stopped. At long last he looked up. “Seems she’s told the truth,” he muttered to his wife. “Lord Townsend has shipped his troubles to us.”

“I’ll not be any trouble, Uncle,” Kendra rushed to assure him. She took a step closer. “May I read the letter?” She wanted to know what Andrew had said about her and her reasons for coming to America.

“No need for that.” Her uncle refolded the paper and pushed the wax seal back down. Kendra dropped her arm, determined to keep her face blank, but sank on the inside. She would just have to hope Uncle Andrew had not painted her in a bad light.

Her aunt’s eyes were glittering with resentment as she looked Kendra up and down, studying her face. “You don’t look like your mother. How do we know you are truly our niece?”

“Oh, but I am. I—”

“What was my sister’s name?” Her aunt interrupted in a stern tone.

Kendra embarked on the family history as she knew it. “Eileen Bentford. She married my father, Lord Edward Alexander Townsend, the Earl of Arundel, when she was twenty. She was married six years before she died, giving birth to me. I never knew her, but I did have a painting and it resembles the one above your mantle.”

Amelia cocked her head to one side, her mouth a flat, grim line. “Why have you come here?”

Andrew must have been vague indeed in his letter. The desire to slip through one of the wide cracks in the floor surged through her but she had to tell them the truth. “My uncle attempted to wed me to an unsuitable man. When I protested the match, he decided I would fare better in America with you than with him in England.”

“So you were difficult, were you, and he thought to pack his trouble off on us?” Her aunt’s voice was little more than a sneer.

Her uncle intervened, shooting his wife a quelling look which seemed to momentarily silence her. “My dear”—he held out his hand to Kendra—“I must apologize for our behavior. The shock, you know.”

Kendra smiled back at him, trying to keep up with their changing behavior. Was there ever a more strange set of relatives?
Lord, give me courage to know what to do.

“Let us begin again, shall we?” Her uncle looked at Dorian and gave him a small nod.

Dorian held out a hand as he introduced himself. “I’m Captain Dorian Colburn, sir. I gave Lady Townsend passage here from England.”

At her uncle’s nudging, Aunt Amelia gave Dorian a stiff nod as if she was too lofty to acknowledge a mere captain.

Dorian gave her a bow in return and shot an encouraging smile to Kendra. “I must be getting home, would you walk me back to the carriage while I retrieve your trunks?”