Shattered Moments (27 page)

Louisa came slowly awake, but refused to open her eyes.  She could feel the warm sun on her face, streaming through the unshuttered window, and hear the voices of children coming from downstairs, but she wanted to lie there just a little bit longer, floating on a cloud of contentment and joy.  Whatever doubts she had about Kit’s love and devotion were dispelled last night after they were finally able to close the door on their happy family and have some long-overdue privacy to finally talk things out and make up in a way that left her quivering like jelly.

Kit was still asleep, his dark lashes fanned across his lean cheeks and a small smile playing about his lips.  Maybe he was dreaming of last night, or maybe he knew, even in sleep, that he was finally home and cleared of the terrible accusation against him.  They would probably never know who killed Deverell, but it almost didn’t matter.  Judging from all they knew of the man, it was no great loss to society, least of all to his wife, who obviously hated and feared him. 

Louisa’s eyes flew open at that last thought.  How hard she’d become living in the seventeenth century.  Things were more black-and-white here, which, in a way, made things easier for people.  Shades of gray led to unrest, rebellion, and ultimately submission.  Here, people were guilty until proven innocent, not the other way around.  Thank God, Fred Taylor had the wisdom and foresight not only to try to discredit Annabel’s testimony, but also to cast doubt on Kit’s ability to take down a man of Deverell’s size.  It had been a gamble, but it worked, and that’s all that mattered. 

Louisa practically purred as Kit pulled her on top of himself, his eyes now wide open and full of
mischief. 

“We have to go downstairs; the
children are up,” she whispered urgently, but he just pushed the nightdress past her shoulders and cupped her breasts in his warm hands. 

“The children can wait, but I can’t,” he stated matter-of-factly as he impaled her on top of himself, his eyes never leaving her face.  Louisa closed her eyes as waves of pleasure rippled through her body, making her forget the children and everything else besides.  She wished they could stay this way forever, free of suspicion and joined body and soul.  All thoughts fled from her mind as she gave herself up to the moment
, and told him over and over again without uttering a word that she was his forever.

The sun was warm on his back as Cameron bent down to take a few handfuls of water.  It was cold and sweet, and tasted of something he hadn’t known in a long time
—
freedom.  He pulled off his clothes and waded into the cool water, needing to feel clean and reborn.  Most religions used water as a medium of rebirth, a baptism, and he needed to be baptized a new man.  Today his life began anew, and no matter what happened, he would never take another moment for granted.  He swam toward the waterfall cascading down from a rock formation high above his head, and allowed the water to fall on his head, washing away both sin and grime.  He closed his eyes and turned up his face, enjoying the rush of the water as it caressed his face and fell on his shoulders, making him feel reborn.

Cameron would have liked to stay and swim for a while, but he couldn’t afford to remain exposed, so he reluctantly got out, pulled on his breeches, and quickly washed out his shirt before making his way to the narrow opening of the cave.  He would be well concealed as he took some rest, ate his meager meal, and waited to see if this time God was on his side. 

The stale breath of the cave enveloped Cameron as he crawled through the narrow opening and made his way to the slightly wider tunnel in the center.  It wasn’t high enough to stand, or even to lie down flat, but if he sat with his back to the rough stone, or curled up with his knees drawn to his chest, he would be just fine.  The most important thing was that it was secluded, and not easily seen by someone who wasn’t looking for the crevice in the rock behind the waterfall.  Cameron sat down with his long legs folded in front of him and unwrapped the oatcakes he managed to keep back from the day before.  It wasn’t much, but it would last him for two meals, then he was on his own.  He patted the knife tucked into his boot.  Getting that had been much harder, but he felt better knowing that he had a weapon as well as a survival tool.  He’d need to hunt for food if he were to survive, and he could hardly do that without a knife.  What he wouldn’t give for a gun, but now he was just dreaming. 

Cameron finished his food, wrapped up the portion left for later, and curled onto his side.  He was exhausted, more emotionally than physically, and he needed to find oblivion from his thoughts, if
only temporarily.

Louisa took a sip of chickoree coffee, and balanced out its bitterness with a piece of toast generously spread with strawberry jam.  If she didn’t focus on the flavor too much, it could almost pass for real coffee, something she’d loved dearly in her old life.  She hated drinking ale or beer for breakfast, so Fred had vowed to make her some coffee.  He loved a project.  Louisa and Valerie assured him that the coffee tasted great, and made sure to have some every morning with their breakfast.  Cook made the coffee, but refused to touch the stuff, saying the smell alone made her want to gag. 

Thoughts of Valerie threate
ned to destroy Louisa’s good mood, so she pushed them away for the moment, determined to enjoy this beautiful day that was a gift snatched from the jaws of destiny, and permit herself to be happy for a few hours before resuming her constant worry and vigil over the road for any sign of Valerie and Alec.  She smiled at Kit who was watching her across the table.

“They will come back,” he said, “I know they will.  Just keep the faith. 
Today I’d like to believe that anything is possible.  I have to go thank Fred for his help with the trial, and then speak to Worthing about plantation business.  After that, I will come back, and you and I are going to have a picnic in the woods
—
without the children.”  He gave her a meaningful look, and Louisa felt her cheeks grow warm. 

“I’ll be waiting,” she replied, giving him a sweet smile.  She liked him like this.  She was about to tell him that when Minnie erupted into the room, her eyes round in her flushed face.

“Sorry to disturb, your lordship,” she panted, “but there are some men coming toward the house with guns and dogs.”  Minnie looked frightened, her eyes round and full of worry.

“Minnie, take the children upstairs and stay out of sight,” Kit said as he rose from the table and headed for the door.  Louisa followed close behind him, but he waved her back.  “Stay with the children until I find out what’s happening.” 

Louisa motioned for Minnie to go, but stayed behind Kit, eager to see what was going on.  If Sir George had sent men to rearrest Kit, she needed to be there to find out what had transpired to change his mind.  Could they charge him with the same crime twice?  She didn’t think so, but this was colonial Virginia, and in truth, they could do anything they wanted.

As Kit stepped onto the porch, Louisa peeked past his shoulder toward the road. 
Two men on horseback were coming toward them, the dust churned by the hooves creating a cloud on the horizon and making it difficult to make out who the men were.  She had noticed, however, that both men were armed; muskets slung across their shoulders and several dogs running alongside, barking like mad.  What if these men were the ones who actually attacked Deverell and murdered him in cold blood?  She sucked in a shuddering breath as Kit gently laid a hand on her arm.

“It’s all right, sweetheart.  It’s only Worthing and
Barnes.”

Now that Kit said it, she recognized the overseer of the
plantation and one of the senior men.  Arthur Worthing had been with them for years, and Peter Barnes had been his right-hand man for the past year; his indenture contract nearly done.  Barnes intended to stay at the plantation once he fulfilled his obligation to Alec, having no family to return to or a desire to start over back in England.

Kit watched warily as the
approaching men drew closer.  They looked anxious, their faces sheened with sweat and dust from the hard ride. 

“Is something amiss, Mr. Worthing?” Kit called out.  Arthur Worthing removed his hat as a sign of respect
, and bowed stiffly from the neck, his face tense and his eyes failing to meet Kit’s.

“Seems one of the indentures has escaped, your lordship. 
It was discovered this morning when the men were roused at dawn. We thought he might be on his way to Jamestown to try to get aboard a ship bound for England, but we checked every vessel in port, and there was no sign of him.  We checked the hold of every ship for stowaways as well,” he added desperately.  Worthing seemed to be bracing himself for a verbal lashing, but Kit just looked abashed.

“Really?  Which one?”  Not a single man had tried to run away from Rosewood Manor, most of the workers grateful to have wound up at a place
where they were well cared for and treated with dignity and respect.  Runaways had very little chance of actually getting away, and even if they did, they’d have no money, no food, and no weapon; reducing their chances of survival to almost zero.  If caught, they would be severely punished by the law of the colony before being returned to the plantation, where they would likely be punished again by their master.  Very few indentured servants ever ran away, and those who did, rarely made it longer than a day without being caught and flogged half to death.

“Cameron Brody, your lordship, the Scotch fellow.  Hasn’t been seen since last night
when he went to bed with the rest of the men.”  Arthur Worthing visibly cringed as Kit glanced at the sun.  Judging by the position of the sun it was close to noon, the sun riding high in the sky, its blazing orb hard to look at without shielding one’s eyes. 

“We’ve been searching around the
plantation as well, Lord Sheridan, in case he’s hiding somewhere nearby.  Seems illogical for the man to head to Jamestown where he’s sure to be caught before he even makes it as far as the docks, if that’s what he’s after.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” Kit mused, still watching Worthing with his head cocked to the side.  “What about searching in the other direction
?”

“I can’t see that he would run that way, your lordship.  That there is Indian
Territory, so his chances of survival are minimal should he run into the savages, although he’s likely got a better chance than most, Scots being nearly as savage as the Indians.”  Worthing smiled nervously at his own wit, but Kit wasn’t amused. 

“Go back to the plantation and organize a search party.  He couldn’t have gotten far.  I’ll leave this in your capable hands, Worthing,” Kit announced,
turning to go back in the house.  “Keep me updated, if you please.”

Louisa peered back at Worthing as
he cantered out of the yard followed by Barnes.  The dogs were no longer barking, but trotting alongside the horses, their tongues hanging out from thirst.  Louisa hoped Worthing would at least give them some water before embarking on the next leg of the search.  Brody couldn’t have gone far, so they’d most likely find him by nightfall.  She hoped Kit wouldn’t be too hard on the poor boy.  He didn’t like to punish, but this was the first time anyone had ever run away, and he would be duty-bound to punish him publicly and show the rest of the workers that escape wouldn’t be tolerated.  The normal form of punishment was flogging, and Louisa shrank at the thought.  It was barbaric, to say the least, and the victim took a long time to recover, sometimes dying instead.  The scars healed, but they lasted forever, branding the person as someone who’d been flogged, which was a sure sign that he was either a criminal or a slave. 

Poor Genevieve would be terribly upset to learn of Brody’s escape.  The girl seemed fond of him for some reason, possibly because of their shared Catholicism.  Louisa hoped it wasn’t anything more than that.  Cameron Brody was a handsome devil, in any time period, and a young, innocent girl like
Genevieve might just be seduced by his good looks and brooding manner; her heart full of romantic notions and dreams of rescuing him from his fate. 

Louisa suddenly wondered how Brody came to be at the
plantation.  She was so opposed to the notion of someone being reduced to slavery that she had as little to do with the workers as possible.  She was kind and helpful, but kept her opinions to herself, venting only to Valerie when they were alone.  Valerie felt much the same, but she’d been in the past much longer, and had reluctantly come to accept the often brutal ways of seventeenth-century society.  There was nothing they could do for the men other than to make sure they were treated humanely.  Brody was younger than most of the men, and obviously not there by choice.  A lot of the workers had willingly sold themselves into indenture for the sake of their families, but Louisa didn’t believe that had been the case with Cameron Brody.  Many convicts were sent down to the Colonies and sold into indentured labor, maybe Brody was one of those, but if that were the case, what had been his crime, and were they safe now that he was on the loose?

She would have to make sure everyone stayed inside until Brody was captured and brought back to the
plantation, just in case.  She didn’t think him a violent man, but a desperate man was always unpredictable, and if Cameron Brody chose to risk everything to run away, then he was more desperate than most.