Devil's Mistress

by Heather Graham

  At that moment, Alyssa was interrupted by a high shriek of delight. Brianna’s eyes became riveted to the magnificent oaken stairway near the entry, and then she fell to her knees, arms outstretched, her heart thudding as she watched her child upon the stairs. But Michael had accustomed himself to them well; he sped down their length with his little feet never seeming to touch, and in seconds he was in her arms. “Mama, Mama, Mama!” He buried his face in her neck, and she was holding him tight and murmuring his name in return when she recalled at last that they were not alone. She looked up at Lady Alyssa and Rikky and with difficulty swallowed back the threat of a rush of tears.

  “Thank you,” she told them, “thank you both so very, very much.”

  Rikky laughed. “I didn’t do a thing—except choose to take one of Treveryan’s voyages of adventure!”

  Brianna stiffened slightly, and hugged her child. His child, but not his. She should be so very grateful to him but she couldn’t feel anything but numbness and the overwhelming shadow of guilt. If she had not sinned so greatly in her heart, mightn’t Robert still be alive?

  Now when she looked at Michael with his eyes so startlingly green, she felt a tremor touch her. What was the future? She would have to take hold of it quickly.

  “Michael!” Her fingers moved over his small cheeks, and she tried to smile. “Are you well, Michael, have you been good? These people have been very kind to us, you must be very, very good.”

  “I’ve been very, very good!” he told her solemnly. “Tante Alyssa will tell you so! May we stay here?”

  She clutched him against her. “Michael, it isn’t our home,” she murmured. His wriggling body stiffened, and she repeated herself sharply. “Michael—this isn’t our home!”

  She gazed up guiltily again; Lady Alyssa was distressed as she looked at Rikky over their heads. She knelt down and tapped Michael’s shoulder. “Michael—you will be here for some time yet, so let’s not worry about leaving, shall we?”

  Michael pressed his face against his mother’s shoulder again. “Where is Papa?” he asked her at last.

  Brianna did not know what to say. She couldn’t bear him to be in tears, nor did she quite know if he would understand, though he was a very mature child, molded so by the society in which they had lived. “He …”

  “Your papa cannot come for a while,” Rikky lied smoothly, and he stooped down to pluck Michael from his mother’s arms. “Now, young man, your mama has had a hard journey and needs a long bath! You leave her be for a moment, and she will be back with us.”

  Michael nodded gravely. Then said, “And where has Sloan gone? He will come back soon, won’t he?”

  “He’s gone to the governor’s, child, and yes, he will be back soon. Now go along with Rikky, and I will take your mama up to her room,” Alyssa answered, then placed a hand upon Brianna’s arm and led her toward the stairs.

  “You really mustn’t be afraid anymore,” Alyssa was saying. “Our governor here is a mean skeptic against such proceedings as have taken place! We harbor at least a dozen ‘witches’ here already—a number who are his friends, and a number who are not!”

  They had reached the upper landing; halls jutted off in either direction. Alyssa led her to the left and pushed open the first door. Brianna stepped inside.

  The room was immense, and comfortable. There was a huge claw-footed tub, a stand with snowy towels piled high, a canopied bed with wafting draperies, a finely carved secretary, and a wardrobe against the wall, holding dozens of gowns.

  Brianna gasped and stepped back. “I cannot stay here! I cannot accept this!” she muttered. Her eyes lowered. “I intend to find work quickly, but I can never repay you for all that you have done!”

  Alyssa was silent for a moment, then said shrewdly, “We shall worry about such things later. I’ll leave you now. Should you need any assistance, there’s a cord by the bed. Give it but a tug, and Dulce will come. Choose what you will from the wardrobe—and for heaven’s sake, let me burn these things you’re in!”

  Alyssa departed with a little smile. Brianna could not resist the tub, and in seconds she had peeled away her prison-tainted clothing and fallen into the delightful steam. Yet she felt no real pleasure from it. The steam seemed to surround her heart and mind, and she felt no pain either—just a terrible dullness and lethargy. She discovered then that if she did not allow herself to think, she would not feel anything, and she would not hurt.

  All the gowns in the wardrobe were exquisite, but Brianna didn’t much care anymore. She chose a dress in a dark russet with a minimum of ornamentation and came back down the stairs. Alyssa and Rikky were arranged across from one another on wide armchairs, and a large black woman was serving tea in delicate china cups.

  “Michael is taking a nap, Brianna,” Alyssa informed her quickly, noting the anxious look about her eyes.

  Brianna nodded. “Thank you.”

  “Ah, Brianna!” Rikky came to his feet, eyes sparkling. “There is the beauty I’ve come to know and cherish. Dulce”—the black woman turned to him with a broad grin—“Brianna. Brianna, should you ever need anything, just call upon Dulce, or her man, Jeeves.”

  “Yes, miz, you just call on Dulce!” the woman said.

  Brianna tried to smile. Smoothing down her skirts, she murmured, “Thank you, Dulce, but I intend to give you little trouble—and to find a position of my own as soon as I might.”

  There was a strange silence in the room; then Alyssa stood, pouring tea for Brianna. “I think I’ve a solution for you. You may work here. Dulce is rather helpless with a needle. I shall hire you on as a seamstress.”

  “Oh, no—” Brianna began to murmur, but Rikky interrupted her.

  “Your son is happy and healthy here. Would you risk his health and well-being on a foolish matter of misguided pride?”

  There was a sharp rap on the door. Dulce went to answer it, and as the door opened, Brianna heard Sloan’s voice, low and smooth, with his trace of accent. He chuckled over something Dulce said, then came to the drawing room. He was dressed rather magnificently in navy breeches and a red shirt and his sword; a gold-trimmed coat lay over his arm, for the sun had risen high and the day was warm.

  His eyes fell on her, quite coldly, but he did not approach her. He came to Lady Alyssa instead, smiling rakishly as he kissed her hand. Then he greeted Rikky, and at last said, “Good day, Brianna.”

  “Good day,” she replied simply, and lowered her lashes, aware that he was surveying her with a wary curiosity, as if she were some unique thing to be explored.

  “So how is the dear governor?” Rikky inquired.

  Sloan laughed. “Patting himself upon the back for being the shrewd realist that he is and berating the officials of Massachusetts for allowing such a thing to go on.” He chuckled again. “I’ve a mind that if they were stringing up none but poor old hags, he’d not be so concerned about the matter. But he’s had friends among the accused, and so he has made himself a certain kind of hero.”

  Brianna stood as Sloan spoke. With her eyes low she spoke to Alyssa. “If you will forgive me, I would like to—be alone today.” Being around Sloan penetrated that fine wall she had created, and she did not want that.

  She returned to the beautiful room Alyssa had given her and threw herself onto the bed. She stared up at the ceiling. Think nothing, and you will feel nothing, she reminded herself.

  She did not know how long she had lain there when the door burst open. She rose, startled by the sound. Sloan stood there, as rigidly cold and angry as he had been the night before.

  “I thought you should like to know,” he told her harshly, “that I have arranged for Robert Powell’s burial. He will be taken to South Church in Boston for interment.”

  Brianna lowered her eyes. “It is another thing for which I must be grateful,” she said coolly. “I will do my best to repay you.”

  “Will you?” He inquired dryly. “I want nothing from you, Brianna—except that which is mine.”

  Sh
e stared at him again, very alarmed by the tone of his voice. But he was already giving her a mocking bow. “You needn’t fear my presence here. I’ve work to do, and I’ll not be back now—for some time.”

  The door closed. She lay back down, still feeling nothing. He was leaving, he had said. She could stay here and see that Michael had decent food and care and surroundings while she decided what to do. In time she heard Michael’s voice, calling her name petulantly, as if he needed to assure himself that she was there. She rose and hurried to him.

  Rikky left with Sloan aboard the Sea Hawk. They traveled south to Virginia for a tobacco shipment and to deliver mail from New York.

  At a tavern there the two men began to drink together, and in time, they were well warmed and near drunk.

  “Lord Cedric!” Sloan confided drunkenly to his friend. “If you were me, what would you do? Gentleness will have no bearing on the lady—nor does patience fare me very well. Where have I made a mistake? I should be able to comfort her—I cannot. Perhaps I should stay away longer—I cannot, for I don’t trust her. The child is mine, and I intend to take him.”

  Rikky took another long draft of his ale, then clanged the tankard against the table. “Here! Here! You’ve made no mistake, my friend, except to love too deeply and too well. I think I understand our lass in question. For the suffering she has caused, she feels that she must suffer. Misguided fool as she is, I don’t believe she’ll ever come to you on her own.”

  Sloan inhaled sharply. “She loves me!” he said vehemently. “By God, I would swear it!”

  “Oh, aye!” Rikky laughed. “She loves you. But she will not accept it. My advice to you, Lord Treveryan—captain of the sea but not of his own heart!—is to take the matter into your own hands. Produce this document given you by her husband, now at rest. She will cease assuming that she has legal recourse! Give an order—and it will be followed. And when you sail away from the coast of tragedy, she will come to terms.”

  Sloan scowled as he watched Rikky, then stood so abruptly that he almost knocked the table over. “Come on—we’re leaving.”

  “The tavern?”

  “Nay, Virginia.”

  “Tonight? You’re scarce fit to sail the ship!”

  “I’ll not sail her—Paddy will.”

  When he sobered and they were in New York, Sloan hesitated about returning to Lady Alyssa’s house.

  Rikky laughed, taunting him. “Are you afraid? Is the lord of countless battles afraid of one slim lass?”

  “Rikky, you press me sorely.”

  “Wake up, then, Treveryan! You are as bad as she!”

  “Umm,” Sloan muttered. “Then let’s get on to your aunt’s house, shall we?”

  It was nightfall when they came. Dulce informed them that the ladies had long been abed.

  Sloan started determinedly for the stairs. “Lord Treveryan,” Dulce said, “I done told you that they’s asleep.”

  “And I heard you, Dulce. Thank you.”

  He came to her door, but it was locked. He banged on it. She came, anxiously and half asleep. When she saw him, and the tense thunder about his face, she paled immediately and drew into the room.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked him raspily, and in her blue eyes he saw nothing but cool defiance. Yet his heart was touched too; she was in a simple white gown, laced at the throat, and the desire she could kindle too easily touched him like a rampaging fire.

  “I must return to London and Wales,” he told her curtly. “I leave tomorrow—with Michael.”

  She gasped. “You cannot! He is by law my son. You—”

  He caught her shoulders and pushed her heedlessly into the room, back to the bed, where he forced her to sit.

  “Sloan Treveryan,” she warned fiercely, “you cannot do this! We are not alone in some desperate place! You cannot push me so and manhandle and—”

  He laughed, and placing one booted foot crudely on the bed so as to lean his elbow upon his knee, he produced from his pocket the document that Robert Powell had given him.

  “Read it, mistress. I am taking the child. Now, you may stay behind, if that is your choice. I shall go to London and claim him before the king and queen, and he shall be legitimized as my son. Then you will never see him again, for I am finished with traipsing around the world to drag you from one disaster after another. Or …”

  He let the word trail.

  “Or what?” she spat out furiously.

  “I can take you with me. But if you do come, you will stay with me. And you will repay me. Every night that I so choose, you will repay me.”

  “I am a widow!” she cried out to him. “How can you be so callous and—such a bastard!”

  “Brianna, say whatever you like, feel whatever you like. But I have decided that I can no longer play this game. You will curse me however you like, but under your breath you will still whisper to me that you want me. When I come to my cabin tomorrow night, you will be waiting, bathed and clean and fresh and smelling like roses—and with a meek pretense of eagerness!”

  He spun on her then, quickly, and left the room before she could reply. He closed her door and leaned against it and smiled as he felt the reverberation of her pillow crashing against it.

  He chuckled then, certain that Rikky was right. But to be on the safe side he hurried down the hall to the room where his son slept. He stretched out carefully by the little boy, amazed again that the child could be his own flesh—and so very much like him.

  Minutes later, he heard a soft scampering of footsteps down the hall. The door creaked open and she entered, and started to tiptoe for the bed.

  “Nay, Brianna,” Sloan said softly, and she jumped. “I’ll not take my eyes off him until we’re far at sea.”

  “Bastard!” she hissed, and a slight sob escaped her as she ran from the room.

  Sloan touched his son’s hair. “I know that she loves me,” he whispered. “She just does not know how to reach for happiness anymore.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Brianna did not sleep much through the night. Fury kept her awake. But by the morning, she was resigned. Sloan held not only the physical power—but the legal power as well. Brianna would never allow him to leave with Michael and without her. She swore to herself that she would leave calmly, with her head high.

  It was difficult when they came to the wharf that morning. She hugged Alyssa with all the warmth and fervor she could express. “Thank you, Alyssa. For Michael and myself.”

  There was moisture in Alyssa’s eyes. “I will miss you and Michael. I had come to think of him as a little bit mine. But—here, we mustn’t get like this. I know that you will come back. Sloan has an eye upon a lovely manor up the river. He’s thinking of buying it. So we shall determine that we’ll see one another soon!”

  Brianna didn’t bother to remind Alyssa that her position with Sloan was extremely precarious. He’d ordered her onto the ship—that was all. He’d made no promises for the future—he’d only made demands.

  Rikky gave her a monstrous hug then. “Best of luck!” he told her. Then he kissed her again and whispered, “They’ve always been wrong. You’re a sorceress, not a witch. A highland nymph, to catch the heart of man! My love goes with you—all three!”

  “Ye must come aboard now, Brianna!”

  Paddy was there, setting a hand upon her shoulder. Rikky and Alyssa were gazing past her. Sloan was near the great wheel of the ship. Michael was atop his shoulders, waving.

  “Good-bye!” Brianna kissed Alyssa one last time, hugged Rikky, and turned to hurry along the plank.

  Paddy shouted out an order; the walk was lifted, and thick hemp ropes were thrown from the dock.

  The Sea Hawk was under way.

  Brianna did not go to Sloan and Michael; she maneuvered past the sailors to the aft and waved to the shoreline as long as she could. She had loved it there; the people, and the peace.

  “With or without him, I will come back!” she whispered fervently to herself. But
then there was a touch on her shoulder and she turned to see George Percy’s familiar face. She had to smile at the welcome she saw there.

  “Welcome back, my lady!”

  “I’m not a lady, George, but I thank you for your greeting.” She held silent for a moment, then added softly, “After all the trouble that I have caused.”

  “Caused, Brianna?” George chuckled. “Nay—the wind causes tides and the sun causes heat—but of us? We move along, sometimes as we choose! Come, now, and I’ll show you the little cabin arranged for your son. It’s affixed to the captain’s own, so you’ll not feel he’s far away.”

  “Thank you, I’d like to see it,” she murmured.

  He led her belowdecks and she saw that it was the small cabin where Eleanor had stayed the night they had run from Salem. The bunk was fine, the cabin was neat. And there was a set of toy soldiers upon a small desk. A few old and worn primers, a little ball—and a strange assortment of tins that all seemed to fit into one another.

  “Where did you come by these?” Brianna murmured.

  “At a shop along the wharf. The captain sent me yesterday,” George replied cheerfully.

  “He did, did he?” Brianna said sweetly, curling her fingers around one of the little primers. He’d known all along he could force her hand, she thought angrily. Tears stung her eyes. Damn Robert! she thought. How could he have given Sloan the legal right to steal Michael from her?

  She set the soldier down. “George, would you be so good as to retrieve Michael for me?”

  “Well, I’ll try,” George said uneasily. “But it seems he’s happy enough with his fa—with the captain, ma’am.”

  Brianna lowered her eyes and wet her lips angrily. Did everyone know the truth of it, then? And did it matter? Sloan wanted the child legitimized; he wanted to make him his heir. All well and fine, he would grow to be the lord of a vast estate …