"So? Why did you do it? Why did you kidnap an innocent child?”
"I dinnae kidnap her. I thought ye were dead and I couldnae leave the baby with strangers. I did what I thought ye would have wanted me to do.” He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "The old woman kept tellin’ me ye were gone and my French isnae what it should be. I dinnae understand her."
"You thought I was dead?" Arianna repeated.
"Aye, but I assure ye, I willnae make that mistake twice." His hand rubbed over his sore jaw.
Now, Arianna was confused. If he didn't come to take the baby away, why was he here?
Keldon must have read her mind for he approached her and took her hand. "Please, let me explain. This wasnae what I had planned.”
His eyes pleaded and she knew she couldn’t deny him. She nodded and he offered her a chair. He then knelt down beside her on one knee and took her hand.
"Dearest Arianna, I want ye back. It doesnae matter to me if the lass is mine. She willnae ever know differently. I will love her. From this day forward, if ye are willin’, I will claim her as mine.” He gently kissed her hand before he locked his gaze with hers. "Ye are my life and without ye my soul was dead. I doonae want to go through life without ye. If ye will have me back, I promise, ye willnae be sorry. I love who ye’ve become. I love ye, Arianna.”
Her eyes misted over with tears. He loved her not Annabelle.
"Ye're cryin’.” Keldon gently wiped the tears that slid down her cheek.
"I'm crying."
"Aye, but what does it mean?"
"It means I love you, too.” She threw her arms around him and he returned the embrace.
He didn’t want to let her go, but she gently pushed him away. "I have something I must tell you."
"Aye."
"Sit down first.” He did as she asked. He pulled the other chair close to hers. When he was situated, she told him. "The baby is yours."
"I told ye it doesnae matter."
"It does to me. I know the baby is yours because I've never been with any other man, but you. When I was delivering, I saw my life as it was before. Somehow, I did change places with your Annabelle and she took my place.” Arianna could see the skepticism in his eyes, but she needed him to believe her. "I know this sounds crazy, but I know it's true. That's why I knew things before they were going to happen. I knew because from my time they had happened. I was not seeing the future. I was reciting the past."
At first, Keldon didn’t respond. She seemed lucid but what she asked him to believe was ludicrous. Yet... there was things that made him think her story held some truth. She looked like Annabelle, but that was where the resemblance ended. She never once acted like the cold-hearted woman he had learned to despise. She had been different from the beginning, drawing him to her.
If she wanted to believe she somehow traded places, then so be it. As long as she was willing to stay with him, he didn't care who she thought she was. "I believe whatever ye believe."
Arianna knew he was just pacifying her. She couldn’t blame him for his skepticism. One day, he would know. The truth always had a way of resurfacing. She may not have evidence to prove her identity, but she did have proof the child was his.
Arianna went over to the baby and picked her up. She then returned to Keldon, handing him the child. She removed the satin bonnet that was covering her small head, revealing the jet-black hair she possessed. "She’s yours."
"Aye. That I already knew in my heart. She dinnae have to possess the color of my hair.” He kissed the top of the baby’s head. "What is the wee lassie's name?"
"Caresse. The name is French. It means beloved."
"Caresse Buchanan," he said thoughtfully. "A most fittin’ name."
“Are you going to make us legal, Keldon Buchanan?” She asked with a glint of amusement in her eyes. “We aren’t married.”
“Aye, the divorce papers,” he said remorsefully
“Yes. Well, you divorced Annabelle, but we were never married.”
Keldon smiled. “We’ll rectify that soon enough.”
****
Keldon persuaded the man of the cloth to perform the ritual that evening. Chantal, Gerard and Mrs. Devereux were present for the quiet ceremony. When the minister asked what their names were, Keldon said his then turned to Arianna questionably. She answered so that there would be no confusion over her identity. “I am Arianna Ward.”
Keldon nodded. “Aye and I want to marry ye, Arianna Ward.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
It had been four years since the Buchanan’s made their home at Willow Bend, and Leighton McRae decided it was high time he paid them a visit.
He took the cobbled path that led to the house. In the distance, he spotted Keldon out front with a little girl. He could only assume this was Keldon’s daughter. He smiled as he watched them play. Keldon picked the lass up and twirled her around. The child’s laughter reached him, filling the air like the sound of tinkling bells.
Leighton hesitated, stopping in his tracks. Maybe he shouldn’t intrude on their happiness, but then he decided he’d come this far, there could be no turning back now. Besides, Keldon had spotted him.
Keldon didn’t raise a hand in welcome. Not exactly a good sign. He had every right to send him away, but Leighton still sauntered forward. When he finally reached him, they both stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. Keldon surprisingly made the first move. He embraced Leighton, as old friends should. It made Leighton realize he should have never doubted their friendship.
"It has been far too long, my friend,” Keldon replied.
"Aye. It was my own stubborn pride that kept me away.”
Leighton’s gaze wavered to Keldon’s daughter, who in turn was staring up at him. The little girl had Keldon’s thick, dark hair and the same cat-like green eyes that could look right through you. The resemblance was uncanny. "She's a bonny lassie, Keldon."
"Aye. That she is. I have a son also—Julian. He’s upstairs with Maeve. No doubt tellin’ her he isnae tired. He’s two and half and a handful."
“A son and a daughter. Ye are blessed.”
“Aye.”
Leighton recognized the curious expression Keldon threw his way. His friend wondered why, after all these years, he came calling. Leighton didn’t leave him in suspense. "I need to set things right with ye.” Leighton cleared is throat, not sure how to begin. "I have misjudged Arianna cruelly. If ye have it in yer heart to let me do so, I want to make amends."
Keldon sighed. "Leighton, I have never said ye werena welcome here."
"Aye, I know ye havenae, but I felt I deserved no less.” He paused again and looked at the wee lass, remembering what he’d been told. "I saw an auld friend of ours.”
“Aye, who might that be?”
"It was Doc Hathaway. He told me a bit of news that surprised me. He had asked me aboot ye and I told him of ye havin' a wee lass to call yer own. Do ye know what the man asks?"
Keldon shook his head.
"He says to me, when did Keldon remarry?”
Keldon lifted an eyebrow. “I doonae understand. Why would he ask ye that?”
"Weel, he had his reasons, but at the time I dinnae understand it myself. So I tell him ye dinnae remarry. I tell him ye are still married to the same woman. And he says to me that this is impossible because he knows that Annabelle Buchanan cannae bear ye any children."
"What do ye mean?"
"Just what I am sayin'. She cannae have children. Doc Hathaway explained to me that when Annabelle had done away with the bairn all those years ago, she was damaged. Doc Hathaway had to take everythin’. She dinnae have the parts that would have enabled her to have another bairn. It seems this be a secret that Annabelle coerced him into keepin’."
Keldon stood there transfixed as the truth sunk in. From the beginning, Maeve claimed Annabelle was no longer with them and the story Arianna told him all those years ago had been true after all. By some twist of fate, Arianna traded place
s with Annabelle. He glanced at his daughter, whom he cherished. She innocently smiled up at him. Both of his children resembled him with their dark hair and green eyes, but they had their mother’s smile. He turned to Leighton. "We should have known the truth all along."
"Aye, but we... I refused to see it,” Leighton admitted.
“That is the past now. Come, my friend into my home and join me in a drink.” Keldon scooped up his little girl, who giggled because he was tickling her. They headed back to the house and as they neared, they could hear Arianna playing the harpsichord and singing.
“That be the song, she sang all those years ago,” Leighton stated. This time, he enjoyed the sweet voice the woman possessed. “It be the verra song ye play on yer bagpipes.”
“Aye. It is the song and it seems to have a special bond for us. I just dinnae realize how much of a bond until I heard the words leave her lips. To me it is like the warm and wonderful feelin’ of comin’ home.”
The moment they reached the room where Arianna was playing, Keldon put the squirming Caresse down. Arianna had just finished the last stanza and looked up. Her lovely arched brows rose in surprise at seeing Leighton standing there next to her husband, but she recovered quickly, offering a warm smile.
She rose from her seat to greet him. "Leighton, I am so glad you finally came to visit us. How have you been?"
"Lonely. I'm an auld man with nay family."
"You are wrong on both accounts,” she said. She surprised Leighton further by giving him a welcoming hug. He gladly returned the embrace. When they parted, Leighton noticed there was someone hanging on his leg. He looked down and saw the little dark-haired girl smiling up at him.
Have you met our daughter, Caresse?” Arianna chuckled.
"Aye.” He leaned down and picked her up. "She’s a bonny lass, Arianna."
She regarded him quizzically. Leighton knew he had never acknowledged her as anyone, but Annabelle.
"Did you call me Arianna?"
"Aye, he did," Keldon answered. "He knows as I do, who ye really are."
"Why do I have the feeling I’ve walked in on the middle of a conversation? Just who am I?” Her lips curved.
Keldon pulled her to him, as he thought of the hauntingly sweet melody that still lingered in the air as though she had never stopped singing the song, the song that had somehow bridged the gap of time, and had brought her to him. "Ye are the song of my heart, Arianna Buchanan.” He lovingly brushed his lips over hers. “That is who ye will always be."
####
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Author Note: A Few Facts
Even though I have mentioned true figures, places and events, this story is fictional and the product of my imagination.
The War of 1812, General Jackson did protect the citizens of New Orleans from the British with the aid from the notorious handsome pirate, Jean Laffite. More than 2000 British were killed and 100 captured, while 8 Americans were killed and 13 wounded. The Louisiana and the Carolina were actual ships that aided in defending New Orleans.
General Sir Edward Pakenham, was the 37 year-old brother-in-law of the Duke of Wellington and a decorated general. His ill-fated death was true. His last orders were to continue the fight. Luckily, the man who replaced him wisely ended the slaughter. Veterans of the Peninsular Campaign in Spain helped with the British’s campaign and most of a Scottish Highlander unit was lost on that fateful day. I tried to stay true to the facts of the battle, while intertwining it with the characters of the story.
Francis Scott Key wrote the song, “Star Spangled Banner”. He never meant it to be anything more than a little ditty to be sung to pass the time away.
General Jackson captured Pensacola on November 7, 1814, giving us the opportunity of attaining Florida for the United States.
Human slavery is regrettable and unforgivable part of the American history. In the story, Maeve mentions slave badges. Charleston actually did issue these badges for the slaves to be hired out. The badges were made from thin copper sheets and were stamped. The most common occupation was servant and porter. The rare occupations were mechanics, carpenter and fisherman.
Paul Cuffee is another true figure in history. He aided the newly freed slaves to immigrate to Sierra Leone and established the Friendly Society of Sierra Leone, a trading organization.
The information about the Letter of Marque was from the Public Record Office in Richmond. I tried to stay as close to the originally written document meant for Captain Millin, an American privateer, Prince of Neufchatel during the War of 1812 for its authenticity. I of course needed to change the name of the captain, ship, amount of men and dates to fit the story.
Keldon’s ship the Good Intent was a Schooner. They were usually altered to fit a pirate’s specification. It had some luxury and comfort but it was light enough for high maneuverability, so if necessary it could make a quick escape.
I mentioned that the crew was careening the vessel they had confiscated. This was a chore that was done every three to four months to keep the ship in tip-top shape. Careening was necessary because the shipworm would bore into exposed wood below the waterline. Also another problem was the accumulation of barnacles, sea grass, algae, and muck. These things could reduce the speed of the ship. Speed to a pirate was sometimes the difference between life and death.
References:
The Almanac of American History, Arthur M. Schlesinger, Jr.
Pirates! An A-Z Encyclopedia, Jan Rogozinski
No Quarter Given; a quarterly publication, C/O Christine Markel Lampe
Slave Badges and the Slave-Hire System in Charleston, South Carolina, 1783-1865 By Harlan Greene, Harry S., Jr. Hutchins, Brian E. Hutchins
Middleton Plantation (Charleston, SC)
Drayton Hall (Charleston, SC)
If you loved this Karen Michelle Nutt book, then you won’t want to miss any of her other fabulous stories.
Following is a sneak peek of Storm Riders…
The hangman, a tall broad-shouldered man stood on the other side of Ace with his feet apart and his hands behind his back. The Deputy took his place near the steps.
Samantha studied Ace, her gaze sliding over him in admiration. Long, lean, and rather handsome even with a few days growth on his chin. He wore a brown cowboy hat, but his long hair peeked out. The color gleamed a rich dark brown as the sun beat down on the thick strands.
His eyes shifted in a subtle manner as if he were looking for someone.
“You have little faith,” she whispered. She raised her hand, tapping her cowboy hat with a subtle gesture, but it caught his attention. For a split second, a look of surprised recognition flitted across his features. He didn’t believe she’d show. She gave him a slight nod. He faced forward then with his shoulders back, standing tall before the crowd that chanted his death song.
The hangman lifted McTavish’s hat to place the black cloth over his face, but Ace moved his head away. The hangman shrugged with indifference. Ace had the right to face his accusers. The hangman draped the rope around McTavish’s neck, placing his hat firmly back down on his head. Then he tightened the rope around his neck. The reverend continued his sermon to save Ace’s soul rather than words to comfort him.
Samantha tapped her earpiece. “Are you ready, Denny?”
“Aren’t I always, luv?”
Her lips curved. “Let’s show these eegits the meaning of a real show, shall we?”
“Your words are pure poetry to my ears, Sammy.”
Denny could shoot a flea off a dog and she wasn’t exaggerating. Denny was the best sharpshooter at the SR institute. She won her share of metals too, but horses were her specialty. She grew up on a ranch, spending more time on a horse than anywhere else. She would be able to outrun whoever tried to come after them.
She kept her eyes on the hangman’s hand. The reverend closed his book and gave a nod. The hangman’s hand pressed the lev
er and the prisoner dropped. At the same time a shot rang out, severing the rope before it could constrict around McTavish’s neck and break it.
Her horse tensed, but she stroked his neck and leaned forward. “You’re fine, boy. Stay with me.”
People screamed and ducked. Deputy Goodman who stood at the foot of the stairs drew his gun, looking for the man responsible for the interruption.
He kept the patrons hopping with shots flying over their heads. Deputy Chester couldn’t leave the scaffold, the way the bullets flew at his feet, making him dance a jig.
Bless you, Denny Randeli.
Samantha didn’t waste time and rammed her feet into the horse’s flank, sending them flying forward through the crowd of scrambling people. McTavish looked stunned, but he was already working to free his hands.
“Need some help, cowboy.” She tipped back her hat and smiled. She pulled her knife out and he stumbled back. “Don’t be stupid. Let me cut the ropes.”
“Who are ye, lass?” His thick Scottish brogue laced his words.
“I’m the woman who’s going to save your arse. Now turn around and let me cut you free.”
He didn’t hesitate now, whirling around and giving her his backside. A nice backside, too, but now wasn’t the time to admire it. Keeping the horse steady, she leaned down and slashed the binds free from his hands. She shoved the knife back in its holder and offered her hand.
He turned to stare at her. In the bright of day, his eyes stood out like clear green gems with no other pigment clouding the color.
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