by Linda Ladd
"Lady Beatrice thought you might enjoy hot coffee and bread to warm you before you have your morning bath. The kitchen maids will fill it now for you, there in the bathing alcove."
Caitlin smiled as she took the cup and sat up, glancing at the draped doorway to which Frieda had pointed. She sipped the hot brew gratefully as the maid moved to the fireplace and stoked the fire into a dancing blaze. The coffee warmed Caitlin considerably, and she savored it, realizing how very hungry she was as she took a bite of the flaky cinnamon bun.
Frieda finished her chores and left directly, and to Caitlin's surprise the door opened again almost at once. The younger of Trey's sisters peeked around the door at her.
"Would it please you for me to come in?" she said, her wide smile carving deep dimples in both of her cheeks, and Caitlin nodded, watching as the girl came toward her with several gowns draped over one arm.
"I am Meghan," she told Caitlin, flouncing down on the bed hard enough to rattle the cup and saucer that Caitlin had in her hands. "Trey did not think to even introduce us properly this evening past. Are you really a pirate?"
Caitlin smiled at Meghan's abrupt, and somewhat tactless, change of subject.
I do not call myself that, but others have said that of me."
"Trey did," Meghan informed her, helping herself to a sticky bun without asking permission. She took a huge bite, then proceeded to talk with her mouth still full. "I heard him tell Mother all about you last night. I was supposed to be asleep, of course, but I listened from behind the door."
Her light blue eyes, just the same shade as Trey's, twinkled with such self-satisfied mischief that Caitlin had to laugh.
"And what else did your brother say?"
"He said he loved you but you were angry with him. Then Mother said that you certainly had good reason to be furious after all that he had done to you."
Caitlin looked at her, surprised. "Did she really?"
"Aye, but I think it made Trey angry. No one usually dares to speak up to him except for Mother. And me, of course."
Caitlin looked at Meghan's small face with its light dusting of freckles across her nose and tightly braided auburn plaits coiled over her ears, deciding that she would surely become good friends with Trey's twelve-year-old sister.
"And what of your sister? Does she speak up to him as well?"
"Grace?" Meghan laughed. "She is too sweet to argue with anyone, no matter what. Everyone loves her, too. She never gets scolded for things like I do."
Meghan again changed the subject without warning, licking sugary cinnamon crumbs from her fingers before she picked up one of the dresses she had brought with her.
"Look, I have brought you several of my gowns. I believe they will fit you. You are really very small. If not, perhaps Grace's will. She is taller than I."
"Thank you," Caitlin answered, lifting the heavy velvet material, thankful that Meghan had thought to bring them.
Meghan grinned as she stood up. "I must hurry now and dress myself for breakfast. You will come down, wont you?"
"Yes, but Frieda mentioned a bath, and I would very much like one before I dress, although it is most chilly. How can you bear to bathe in such a climate as England?"
"Oh, do not worry, ‘twill be very warm in the bathing alcove. I would imagine Frieda has already had the water brought for you. It will have been brought through the other door in the alcove that leads to the hallway. I will go now and wait for you downstairs. There is still much I wish to ask you about your adventures with the pirates and buccaneers."
Caitlin chuckled to herself as Meghan left, then climbed out of bed, pulling her blanket around her shoulders. She picked up the gowns Meghan had brought and carried them across the room to the draped alcove. It led into a very small room with a blazing fire, and Caitlin welcomed the heat against her face as she let the curtain drop behind her and laid her dresses on a chair. The copper hipbath sat before the hearth; upon testing the water, she found it warm and scented with the fragrance of flowers. She undressed and slipped into the tub, sighing out her contentment. It had been a long time since she had enjoyed such a luxury, and she lingered there for a long time, pretending she lay in the shady glade on Los Gatos.
When the water began to cool, she quickly dried off and put on a clean linen chemise that Frieda had left beside the hipbath. She looked at Meghan's dresses, choosing one of midnight blue velvet, hoping it was as warm as it looked. It had a high neckline and long sleeves that came to a point on the back of the wrist, and both the gown and the matching capelet were trimmed with wide yellow satin ribbons. She had suffered much on the ship in her thin gowns, and it felt good indeed to don heavier attire. A warm woolen shawl lay nearby, and a soft pair of knitted pantalettes. Caitlin made good use of both, but she still felt the cold as she left the warm bath cubicle and entered the outside hallway, wondering if she would ever become oblivious to the wintry weather.
The upstairs hall was wide and hung with huge gilt-framed portraits of Trey's ancestors, many wearing the stiff white neck ruffs of Elizabeth's reign. Caitlin moved quietly through the deserted corridors, more than impressed with the magnificence of Worth House. The woodwork was of dark oak, intricately carved with elaborate garlands of flowers and fruit and woodland animals, and the furniture was grand as well, all beautifully crafted, many of the pieces adorned with handmade embroidery of the most extraordinary detail. She paused before an immense tapestry, admiring its scenes of olden days with knights and damsels stitched in vivid silk threads of crimson, gold, and silver, then walked on to a wide expanse of mullioned windows near the top of the main staircase. She looked out over huge gray lawns stretching in a gradual slope to a gray river flowing through a gray day. Caitlin's fine brows drew into a grimace of distaste, appalled to be confined to such a dreary place.
Meghan awaited her at the base of the steps, and she gave a friendly wave as Caitlin descended toward her.
"Mother is already in the breakfast room, but I waited to show you the way. Worth House is quite large, you know, and it is easy to become lost if you are unaccustomed to it."
Caitlin walked with her through several spacious rooms divided by open double doors, all with massive fireplaces and lavish furnishings from all over the world. Drafts of wintry air permeated the huge manor, and Caitlin pulled her shawl tighter as Meghan opened tall sliding doors to a much smaller and cozier room. A cheery fire crackled and popped beside the table, and a sideboard set with silver domes atop the breakfast fare graced one wall. Caitlin first looked for Trey, but Beatrice Cameron sat alone at the highly polished table. She stood and beckoned to Caitlin.
"Caitlin, my dear, please come in and join me. Grace will be down soon."
Caitlin took the chair that a portly white-haired butler stepped forward to hold for her, wondering at Trey's whereabouts. She could not hold back her alarmed question.
"Where is Trey? He has not left me here, has he?"
Beatrice smiled at the concern clouding the young woman's extraordinary amber eyes.
I think, my dear, that such a thing is the last of your worries. I should say that the hounds of Hades could not drag my son away from you."
Meghan laughed, and Beatrice's smile widened as Caitlin dropped her eyes to her lap. After her lengthy discussion with Trey the night before, Beatrice well understood Caitlin Alexander's anger with her son. He had displayed a frightful arrogance bringing her here as he had. But she also knew Trey very well, and it was more than evident that he was in love with the girl who now filled her plate with immense portions that were even more unladylike than Meghan's usual bountiful fare. She hid her smile, remembering Trey's rueful description of his wife's lifestyle and temper. By his accounts, Caitlin was a small whirlwind who ruffled waters wherever she set down, and somehow Beatrice instinctively knew it to be a very apt description.
"My son told me the whole story last night after you had retired," she remarked, bringing dark golden eyes to her again.
"And I cannot condone the lies that h
e told to you," she went on, noting Caitlin's undisguised look of surprise. "But neither can I ignore the fact that he is most devoted to you. He fully considers you as his wife, and I hope you will not fault me if I consider you as part of our family while you are here with us."
It was impossible for Caitlin to argue with Beatrice without appearing boorish and ungrateful, and she nodded, if reluctantly, as she took a flaky scone from the silver tray held to her by the manservant.
"Trey has ridden into the town of Worthing to see to several important legal matters that have awaited his attention while he was at sea," she told Caitlin. "He will return after several days, but I hope we might take this time alone to become better acquainted. Your mother was a very dear friend of mine."
Beatrice felt encouragement when she detected a certain amount of dismay in Caitlin's face at the news of Trey's absence.
"Aye, I have heard my father speak of you," Caitlin was answering. "I hardly knew my mother. She was killed when I was very young."
Caitlin took a bite of the eggs and meat pie, her stomach rumbling loud enough for Beatrice to hear.
"That was a sad thing, indeed. I was most grieved to hear of it. Anne was most concerned for you. She told me as much in a letter. That is what prompted her to send my son to Barbados."
She saw Caitlin's eyes grow cold, and she immediately steered the conversation away from that subject, not wanting to alienate her new daughter-in-law. She was saved while striving for another comment by the entrance of her oldest daughter.
"Good morning, everyone," Grace said, smiling shyly at Caitlin as she sat across from her sister. As Grace chose modest portions from the breakfast trays, Beatrice looked again at Caitlin.
"Perhaps, after you finish, we can show you around the estate. Worth House is very old. It has been in my family for generations."
"I am sure Caitlin will find it terribly boring here after all her adventures in the Indies," Meghan interjected, taking a hearty swig of milk, one which left a thin white mustache the length of her top lip. She wiped it off with her linen napkin at the mother's quiet behest, but her lively blue eyes remained on Caitlin.
"Have you ever run a man through with your sword? Or made one walk a board into the sea as we have heard in the stories of the buccaneers?"
"Meghan! Please! Caitlin is our guest, and you are being most rude."
Meghan was slightly taken aback by her mother's stern rebuke, but not so much as to put an end to her curious questions.
"I mean no offense, Caitlin, you must know, but I think it sounds most intriguing. Were you really the captain and could you make men do your bidding?"
"I commanded my fathers ship alongside my brother, Christian, and it was both of us they obeyed. That was before Trey captured me and forced me to go to Barbados with him."
A silence descended over the table, quieting even the exuberant Meghan, because Caitlin's voice had held a wistful note that was impossible not to detect. It was Grace who spoke next, her dark eyes full of sympathy.
"You must miss your brother very much, for we miss Trey desperately when he is away on his long voyages."
"I hope to return to him as soon as I can," Caitlin told them, and all three could hear the determination in her voice.
Beatrice looked at her sadly. Her son had created quite a mess for himself with this girl. He had always been a bit arrogant, and having women constantly pursuing him had only made him more so. He had never had to expend much effort to attain his choice of ladies, but Caitlin was obviously of a different breed. Beatrice wondered if he would ever tame her in the way he apparently thought he could.
"I have decided to marry your brother, Christian," Meghan announced suddenly, causing her mother to cough on the coffee she was swallowing. Caitlin and Grace stared at her in amazement, and Meghan shrugged.
"So I can be a pirate with him," she explained.
Caitlin had to laugh at the idea. "Christian has sworn no woman would ever tie him down."
"But he hasn't met me yet," Meghan said with such confidence that they all laughed.
Breakfast continued in a relaxed and friendly atmosphere, and afterward, Caitlin joined the two girls on a tour of the estate, finding that she rather enjoyed their company. In turn, they were both fascinated with every word she uttered about the Anna and Christian.
Caitlin found Meghan to be totally charming in an outgoing and boisterous manner, and Grace nearly her opposite, just as delightful but quiet and unassuming. Grace's eyes were incredibly lovely, Caitlin thought, very warm and dark like plush brown velvet, but with an unusual luminous quality that mir-ored her kindness and intellect. By the end of the day, she had settled in with the Cameron family rather well, and by the time she slept, she no longer dreaded the time that she would be required to stay with them.
During the next few days, the weather remained cloudy and threatening, and the girls sought to alleviate Caitlin's boredom by teaching her card games and dancing. In turn, she showed them her bejeweled dagger, laughing at their wide eyes when she strapped it snugly to her pantalettes. When the girls were busy with their lessons, Caitlin found herself being fitted for an enormous winter wardrobe by a seamstress Trey had sent from Worthing. But when she could, she would retire to the huge library on the third floor, where hundreds of books lined the walls behind balustraded walkways. It became her place to be alone and to pore over the detailed maps and charts of the Indies made by Trey's father.
When Trey had not returned by the third morning, she began to harbor secret fears that he had left her after all, and she went to her chambers early that night to pace the floor in anxiety. If he had gone, she wondered if she could persuade Beatrice to buy passage for her back to Barbados. Somehow she did not think Trey's mother would dare do such a thing, despite her kindness. A black veil of depression dropped over Caitlin, and she paused to stare out a window, frowning as she finally admitted to herself what she had suppressed all along. She missed Trey dreadfully, and it hurt to think he had left her without even a word of goodbye.
What if he had grown tired of her coldness and constant rebuffs to his loving overtures? What if he had sought out another woman, was with her now? What if he never intended to come back? Such thoughts frightened her more than she could bear. Even when they were at odds, quarreling at Winds-way or on the Glory, at least she had been able to see him, to be near him. Had he slowly, insidiously wormed his way into her heart until he had become more important than her desire to return to Barbados? Had she grown to love him that much?
She thought of the way he smiled at her, his blue eyes as warm as the Caribbean. The night he had introduced her to his family as his wife, he had done it with such pride, and what had she done? Ridiculed him and denied their relationship.
She loved him. She was tired of holding herself away from him. She craved his touch, craved the tender passion he had displayed in the coach as they had traveled to Worth House. The sword she held up between them was double-edged, cutting her so much more deeply than it did him. Could she become the lady he wanted her to be? Could she live here in this cold, dark land? If Trey was with her, she could. She would make him see that, and perhaps in time he would take her back to the Indies and stay there with her. She would forget her pride and anger and welcome him home with open arms and open heart. Sadness touched her heart. If he came back for her, if he had not gone on to visit the Queen, then sailed away on the Glory, vowing to forget her.
Her gaze sharpened as a movement outside caught her eye, and she rubbed her fingers across the frosty pane, peering intently into the darkness. A lamp burned on the road near the side portico, and she smiled slowly as she discerned white flakes spiraling down all around it. Snow! It was snowing! Her father had told her of its beauty and the way it fell for days at a time, making the fields and trees as white as the beaches of Windsway. She had never expected to be able to see the wonder of it for herself!
For the first time since she had set foot on English soil, she paid no heed
to the cold, but flung open the French doors and stepped out into a winter wonderland, an icy crust of snow covering the balcony beneath her slippers. She leaned down and scooped up a handful, awed by the icy substance. She raised her face, watching as snowflakes fell around her as soft and silent as a dream. The vast lawns of the estate gave off a pale glow in the darkness, looking clean and beautiful and fairy-tale-like, and she smiled in delight, stretching out her hands to catch the airborne crystals.
Trey had no such kindly thoughts concerning the beauty of the snowfall, since he had just spent a hazardous, uncomfortable journey in a freezing coach that rocked and slid along slick roads lined with drifts. He was a fool to have started out in it, and luckier still to have made it safely, he thought as he jerked off his cloak in the main entrance hall of Worth House. But he had been determined not to be stranded miles away from Caitlin. He started for the stairs that would take him to her, a smile hovering on his lips. In truth, he had thought of little else besides his fiery-haired wife while he had been away. His face twisted in wry self-mockery. He had had to force himself to concentrate on the papers he had to sign or to listen to the droning voices of his solicitors. Through it all, he had craved the moment he could be done with it so he could return to his love.
The nights away had given him time to think, to consider all that had passed, and all that threatened to come between them in the days ahead. Away from Caitlin's intoxicating presence, Trey found that his mind had been clearer, for when she was near him, he could think only of her soft lips and silken body. But in his lonely bed in the inn at Worthing, he had remembered, with vivid detail and much admiration, her courage in their first days at Windsway. He had remembered the way she had rapped the Frenchman on the head with his own stick, and had laughed aloud at the memory. His amusement had fled as he relived the jealousy that had raked him when he had been forced to watch Francis Durham touch her and woo her while he could only watch from a distance. She had shown her skill and selflessness when he was ill during the voyage, and had worked the sails untiringly to help his crew. And then she had stood up to him to protect Richard from his wrath. God, what a woman she was!