Savage Conquest (2 page)

For Michael, Angela, and Melanie, whose help and
support prevent "warring winds" from destroying
my deadlines and creative flow.

And for my good friend Elaine Raco Chase, whose
letters, calls, and wit help me retain my sanity.

And lastly for my good friend and helper, Hiram
C. Owen.

Alexandria, Virginia

May, 1873

The past nine weeks had been difficult for the two
young women sitting on the floral sofa in their
brightly decorated parlor. Their mother had loved
bold color schemes, but the lively shades didn't
match the girls' solemn moods. Both were trapped in
painful silence as they struggled to come to grips
with a horrible truth-Lawyer McVane had just told
them that their parents must be assumed dead, at
least legally. Joe and Marie Lawrence had gone
sailing in early March; only debris of their shattered
craft had returned. Even if the girls did not want to
accept this agonizing fact, they knew it was time to
make some decisions about their current situation.
They couldn't spend their lives feeding on grief and
false hopes.

Amanda Lawrence shifted to glance at her fraternal twin sister, Miranda. Amanda's light blue eyes
were filled with uncommon doubt and sadness as she
met Miranda's somber brown gaze. Amanda felt as
though she were looking in a mirror. Despite their
different coloring-Amanda's flowing curls were
light and dark blond, her complexion fair, and her
eyes bright blue, while Miranda bore sleek chestnut
locks, an olive complexion, and tawny eyes-they
could have passed for identical twins. But the two
eighteen-year-olds were completely unlike in personality.

They had always been very close. Amanda knew
her sister was more beautiful, but it had never been a
source of jealousy or trouble between them. Most
men viewed Miranda as a sensual, enticing creature
with an aura of mystery and a provocative innocence.
Miranda was more than exquisite; she was warm,
gentle, and unselfish. She was direct and honest but
always tactful, carrying out her social obligations
with grace and charm, but preferring close friends
and simple events to crowds and soirees. Miranda
seemed to be waiting, planning, dreaming of
something vital to her existence, her destiny, her
happiness.

A well-bred young lady from a wealthy and
prominent family, Miranda concealed her "unfeminine" yearnings for adventure. In truth, she and
Amanda could ride and shoot better than most men.
Miranda could even fight better than most men,
having been taught the "ancient arts" of self-defense by Ling, their Chinese cook's son.. The last thing
Miranda Lawrence wanted to be was a refined lady
condemned to household chores and a "proper
marriage," or so she had proclaimed at every
available chance.

Miranda had never loved the parties, dances,
theaters, dashing suitors, elegant clothes, and jewels
as the outgoing Amanda did. Amanda would be the
first to admit she enjoyed being coy and flirtatious.
Why not? Af ter all, Amanda Lawrence was wealthy, a
Southern "blue blood," a valuable "catch." And men
didn't have to tell Amanda that she was ravishing;
the mirror did that. Even so, Amanda Lawrence
accepted her beauty and acquired charms as blessings, gifts from Fate to be treasured and used to her
best advantage.

Amanda knew what she wanted from life and was
determined to have it. But how she wished the war
hadn't destroyed that enviable Old South life style of
belles and balls, of romantic duels, of grace and
beauty, before she could taste and enjoy them.
Dreams of such days had filled her youthful head
until the nightmare of war with kin against kin had
awakened her to their passing. Amanda felt she had
been denied something essential-some loss of
history, of ancestry, of heritage. She would never
know such times, such daring and romantic men,
such elegant evenings, for the Old South was gone
forever.

Perhaps, Amanda mused, it was time for her to
mature. She was no longer a child but a woman responsible for her own fate. In these past weeks,
Amanda had come to realize life was more than
looking and behaving the irresistible lady, more than
having fun. Her parents had tried to teach her to be
independent and brave, to be basically honest and
caring. Suddenly her carefree search for the perfect
storybook marriage had lost its magic.

Amanda had never known real fear before this dire
period, and the taste of it was sour. Her parents had
always been there as a defense between her and the
cruel world. She didn't like feeling vulnerable and, in
a brief moment of fear and panic, she had almost
surrendered to a protective marriage. But now the
initial shock had passed; the intense agony had
dulled. Amanda's thinking was clearer and braver;
she was ready and willing to challenge her future.
She had spent a great deal of time with her father at
his shipping firm, and she recognized that the first
step toward her new life was obviously there ...

"I don't care what Lawyer McVane says, Randy.
I'm not going to sell Papa's business," Amanda
stated calmly. "I'm going to run it myself," she
announced.

"But, Mandy, you're a woman," Miranda argued.
Her beloved sister had always believed she could do
whatever she wanted, and she did understand and
love the business, but what smug businessman
would deal with a female owner? Their only source'
of livelihood could be crushed.

Amanda looked down at her shapely body clad in a
lovely gown of sapphire, grinned, and playfully jested, "From my point of view, Randy, I do believe
you're right. However, our competitors and customers will soon learn that brains can also be encased
in a nicely rounded package." They laughed musically, feeling happy for the first time since they had
heard about their parents' accident. Yes, it felt good
to laugh and smile again.

Miranda gazed at the renewed life in her sister's
eyes, thankful it had returned. She asked, "Mandy,
are you going to marry Web?"

Disturbed by the nearly inaudible question,
Amanda hesitated before candidly replying, "I don't
know, Randy."

"It isn't like you to be so indecisive. You're not
seeing anyone except Weber Richardson. Do you
love him?"