By Love Alone
Page 13
"There goes a remarkable woman," he said. "She knows when to leave."
"And when to keep her mouth shut?" Kate trembled with anger. "She is a remarkable lady, hardly the savage... the squaw you led me to expect. Of course I should be accustomed to your lies by now." She sat the cup arid saucer down before it slipped from her fingers. "Don't try to deny it. You lied to me! You made me believe that... that hovel was Ashton Hall. Well, I hope you all enjoyed your laugh."
"One thrust at a time, if you don't mind, Katy Storm. First. Menquotwe Equiwa is not one to keep her mouth shut. She once faced down King George himself. I did deceive you about Mother. It's a family joke. It took many years for her to acquire that veneer of sophistication, years of study and practice to perfect her speech. She speaks excellent French, by the way, and reads it. But for all her brave colors, she is still Shawnee. She lives this way by choice... first for my father, and then for me."
"But she seems so happy."
"She is now. But she was never happy in England. And she could hardly return to tribal life. This is a no-man's-land we've created for her. This is her world. I like to think she has the best of both."
"But if she prefers the Colonies, why here? Why not Annapolis or Williamsburg? Both I understand are lovely towns. There would be other ladies there, women of her own class. It must be so lonely here for her."
"In England she is Lady Ashton. In Williamsburg she would only be a red savage wearing the clothes of a lady. She would not be accepted there. Times are not what they were. There is bad blood between the colonists and the Indians. The Shawnee are a powder keg and the flame creeps closer."
"Your mother's position hardly explains your lies to me. Why did you do it?" Kate demanded. "Why?" She had risen from her chair and came closer to stare him in the eye.
"I wanted to have you all to myself for a while," he admitted. He reached out to touch her and she jerked away. "I love you, Kate. I didn't want to share you, not even with her."
"I believe you wanted me alone, all right, alone and scared, too confused to fend off your advances. You wanted to use me!" Kate brought the palm of her open hand across his cheek with all her might. "You bastard!"
Pride's face darkened with anger. Only Kate's handprint was raised in white on the tanned skin. He caught her wrist. "Don't ever do that again!"
Kate struggled to be free and he pulled her into his lap and pinned her arms. "Let me go," she spat.
"Never!"
"Will you rape me in your mother's house?" she cried, as he forced her back and covered her mouth with his.
He shoved her aside and stood over her, fists clenched. "I've never raped you! I didn't need to! You came willingly. Don't lay that to me!" He touched the fast swelling cheek. "You should learn to control your temper or be prepared for a broken jaw."
"Oh!" she dared. "Will you break it?"
"Not me, but most men would. You're a shrew! A shrill-tongued, overaged, spinster shrew."
"Call me what you will. But you'll not lay hands on me again by my consent!"
"We'll see about that, woman!" Angrily, he strode from the room, leaving the door ajar.
Kate heard a muffled giggle. Doubtless they had provided good sport for the servants' gossip. To hell with him! She didn't care. Carefully, she gathered up the chocolate cups and returned them to the kitchen.
It was too early to sleep. Kate wished she could go outside, walk the plantation grounds, even go to the stables. But suppose she met Pride. She was not prepared for another scene tonight. She returned to her bedchamber and busied herself with unpacking her trunk, which stood at the foot of the four-poster, and hanging the things in the armoire. Her garments were much more suited to a servant than a... a what? What exactly was she?
The last rays of sun were laying patterns on the polished pine floors as she closed the empty trunk. There was no sound but that of a dog barking far off. The hair rose on her neck and she shivered, unable to shake the idea she was being watched. She turned toward the French doors and let out a sudden scream! A feathered savage stood not ten feet away, staring at her.
Chapter 9
Kate backed away, unable to quench the terror that clutched at her brain and numbed her body. He moved into the room, not as a man would move, but like some great predatory cat.
"Silence!" he ordered. His English was clipped and precise, making the visage all the more dreadful.
His eyes narrowed and he drew closer. His near-naked form glistened with oil and Kate caught a whiff of something putrid. The man's head was shaved except for a strip three fingers wide that ran from his forehead over the top of his skull. It was streaked with red and blue. A single eagle feather dangled from the back. His face was painted black and yellow. A steel trade ax was tucked into the rawhide cord that wrapped about his lithe waist. Clenched in his dark hands was a silver inlaid long rifle.
With an evil grin, he lowered the muzzle of the gun until it menaced her breast. "I do not like screaming women."
Gathering her wits, Kate made a dash for the door. The Indian blocked her path with the barrel of his gun. She opened her mouth to scream again and a form hurled through the French doors. The savage spun to face the new intruder and Kate dodged away.
Pride crouched just inside the room, a knife gleaming in his hand. "Tschi!"
The painted warrior laughed and lowered his gun, easing down the hammer. "Ah, brother. I nearly had you that time. You should be more careful. The French will pay dearly for your head."
Pride stood and laid the knife on a table. He beckoned to Kate. "It's all right. This is my brother, Tschi."
A rush of air filled her lungs and she nodded, too frightened to speak. She backed toward the door.
The Indian spoke in his own tongue and Pride snapped back a reply. Kate's eyes flicked from one to another. They were arguing, that she could tell. Her hand found the doorknob.
Almost like magic, the door swung open. Rebecca stood there, barefoot in a silk dressing gown. "Tschi! Is this the way you come to your brother's home? Can you not wash the stench of war from your hands? Or..." Her ebony eyes fastened on the shapeless bundle at his waist. "Or come here without your trophies? "
Kate stared. It looked like human hair. Scalps? For a moment she felt as though she might faint.
Seeing the girl's pale face, Rebecca put a steadying arm around her shoulder. "It's all right. You're in no danger." She glared at the men. "Both of you, out of here, at once!"
"Am I not welcome here?"
"You are welcome, my son. But it was cruel to frighten our guest in this manner."
"Come then, let us go where we can talk. There is no need to frighten my brother's new slave." Tschi's smoldering gaze burned across Kate's body.
"Kate is no slave." Pride's voice was low and deadly. "But she is mine. Take care, Tschi."
"Ah, yes. I have taken before what was yours, have I not?" He laughed and Kate shivered. Her first impression was right; this was no man but a beast.
Rebecca watched as the two men went out into the garden, then closed the French doors and locked them. "Will you have a maid to stay with you?" she asked. "No harm will come to you here. Tschi is a dangerous man, but he knows how far to test Pride."
"He... he is your son? That... that man?"
"Pride and Tschi are born of different fathers. I was a widow when I met Ian. Tschi remained with my people. He is Shawnee."
Kate composed herself. "No, I will be fine. It's just that he startled me. He came through the doors there. I didn't expect..."
"You did not expect a warrior to invade your chambers. There is no need to feel ashamed. You did not know. The fault was his." She patted Kate's arm. "I must go to them now, before blood is shed. They cannot be together more than a handful of minutes without fighting. Sleep, Kate. Tomorrow will be better."
Kate nodded, unable to hide the distress in her blue eyes.
"I will send Bill to sleep outside your door."
"No, please. I feel foolish enoug
h. Thank you just the same."
Rebecca nodded approval. "Good. Until tomorrow then."
There was no question of sleep. Kate lay awake, starting at every creak, every rustle of leaves from the tree outside her window. Overriding the fear was shame, the shame of cowardice. She had screamed like a common tavern wench. Since when did a Storm quake and shiver at a half-naked savage? Surely they were all enjoying a good laugh at her foolishness. She wondered if Pride had been in on the joke.
It was well after the witching hour when a low voice called her name and a tap sounded on the glass of the French door. "Kate." It came again.
She crossed the room, heart pounding. "Who is it?"
"Pride. I want to talk to you. Can I come in? Unlock the door."
"Why should I trust you?"
"Because I could kick the damn thing in if I wanted to. Come out here if you'd rather."
There was no need to dress. She had never taken off her clothes. Cautiously, she unfastened the latch. "Only to talk," she warned. "I mean it."
"I'm in no mood for your body tonight if that's what you're worried about." He led the way into the boxwood garden. They followed a curving brick walk until they came to a bench.
Nervously, she sat beside him. "Well? What is it?"
"I'm sorry about tonight. I had no idea he was within a hundred miles of here." He reached for her hand and she snatched it away.
"No, don't touch me." She sighed. "I was terrified. I thought he was one of the Iroquois everyone keeps talking about. He doesn't look much like a friendly Indian."
"He isn't." Pride's voice was full of concern. "You stay clear of him. He's gone now, but if he comes back... Well, it's best if you avoid him altogether."
"But he is your brother, your mother's son. Why...?" The moon broke through the clouds, illuminating the garden. Kate caught the sweet scent of apple blossoms.
"Listen to me. War is about to break out between the French and the British. If that happens the Colonies are caught like a nut in a vise. The French are paying the Indian nations to kill the white settlers. Most of the tribes are allied with France. Only the Iroquois show any real interest in siding with England. The Shawnee are on the fence. They hate the Iroquois, the British, and the French. Which way they'll go is anybody's guess." He stood and faced her. "When it happens, not if, anyone with a white skin living west of Philadelphia is in mortal danger."
"Ashton Hall?"
He shrugged. "There is no reason for the Shawnee or any of their relatives to attack us. But we're well within range of an Iroquois strike. Even though their land is far north of here, distance means nothing to an Iroquois war party. It's common for warriors to run from Canada to the Great Smokies in five days and be in fighting shape when they reach there."
"You expect the Iroquois to attack Ashton Hall?"
"I believe it's highly unlikely... unless one of their war chiefs decides he has a grudge against me, or has a vision, or... You cannot predict what an Indian will do. And the Iroquois are very dangerous men."
"Your mother said the same thing about him."
"She's right. Tschi's power-hungry. He has a following of young braves who will seek glory at any price. He's no fool! He's cunning and he's absolutely without fear."
"You sound like you hate him." Kate glanced over her shoulder. The garden had suddenly become a place of shadows.
"Tschi?" Pride laughed. "No, I don't hate him. What we feel for each other is a warped sort of love. We've been rivals since we were children. But he taught me to tickle trout and to hunt rabbits with a sling. We shared a lot of good times as well as bad."
"Why did he come here?"
"He heard I was home. And he probably wanted to brag about those Iroquois scalps on his belt."
"No," Kate insisted. "Why did he come to my room? He frightened me deliberately."
"He heard I had a woman and wanted to see what she looked like. It's like him to want to scare you. Tschi has a cruel streak. But he knows better than to harm you." Pride held out his arms. "I'm sorry about the cabin. But what we had there was real enough. Kate..."
"No. What we had there was a lie. It's all been a lie. I want no part of you or your Indian wars... or your crazy brother! I want to go home." Her back stiffened. "I won't be tricked again."
"You are home, Kate." He motioned toward the house, then followed her back to her room. "Lock it from the inside."
"I will."
"Good night." He caught the door. "Wait. This is stupid. Neither of us wants to be alone tonight. Let me come in."
She forced her voice to coolness. "Once and for all, am I a slave or not?"
"What kind of talk is that?" he said scornfully. "Of course you're not a slave! Katy, please..."
"If I can choose, then I choose to sleep alone. Good night, Lord Ashton."
Through the long hours of sleeplessness before dawn, she wondered if she had made the right decision. She could not deny that she desired his body... the feel of his lips... his touch. But if she were ever to be free of him, it must begin here.
As the first light of morning sun touched her bed, Kate drifted off to sleep. At noon, a maid tapped at the door with tea and toast.
"Dinner will be a little late today, mum. Mistress Rebecca's out riding with the master. Would you like water fora bath?"
"Yes. Thank you..."
"Mary, it's Mary, mum. I'll see to yer bath right away."
The hot water to bathe in was a luxury, but Kate hurried through and dressed in her best gown. She should not have slept so late. Rebecca would believe her lazy as well as wanton.
Lady Ashton was still in her riding habit when she and Pride came into the dining room. She greeted Kate with a warm smile. "Good morning. Sorry to have left you alone, but there was much for Pride to see and much I had to discuss with him." She pulled off her gloves. "Allow me a few moments to freshen up before we eat."
The maid carrying dishes to the table saw the unspoken order in the master's eye and hurried from the room. Kate stood waiting.
"If you are no longer willing to have a relationship with me, you must be prepared to earn your keep. There are no slackers at Ashton Hall."
"And did you think I meant to be?" Kate flushed. "Surely you don't want me here. Should I go to the scullery, or perhaps the fields?" She glared at him fiercely.
"Don't be a fool. I want you to assist my mother. There are records to keep. A plantation is a settlement to itself. You and she seem to get on well. If you will follow her instructions, I will be satisfied. You will keep your own bedchamber."
"And my bed?" she dared.
"And your lonely bed. Checkmate, Katy Storm. I hope your stubbornness will bring you pleasure."
His words echoed in her head in the days and weeks to come. There was much to do, so much that she wondered at the ability of Rebecca to manage when left alone.
First, the house servants must be instructed in the daily chores of cooking and cleaning. There was the garden to be looked after and vegetables to be dried for the coming winter. Records of seed and livestock and indentures must be constantly maintained. Squabbles must be settled between servants and illnesses tended. Sheep must be sheered and wool spun and then woven into cloth. Clothing must be sewn. Meat must be salted and dried. All these things and more fell to the mistress of a great plantation such as Ashton Hall.
Many of the duties were familiar to Kate. She had taken a woman's place at Queen's Gift for many years. But here, in the wilderness, there were far more responsibilities. Once Rebecca realized how capable the younger woman was, she was glad to share the burden.
Kate saw little of Pride except at meals. She knew he rode with his mother each morning, and she often wished for an invitation to join them. In one of her rare moments of relaxation, she had gone to the stables and asked that a horse be saddled for her.
"Sorry, Miss Kate. Can't do it. Master's orders. Yer only to ride with him." The stableboy had doffed his cap, red-faced. "I'm only follerin' orders."
With the coming of full summer, Pride too was busy from early morning until dark overseeing the crops. He had shed his white shirt and rode bare-chested to the fields, tanning as easily as the laborers until he was the color of his Shawnee brothers. He seemed completely at ease on horseback or side by side with a dirt-encrusted bondman, pulling a wagon wheel from the mud. Kate found a growing admiration for the man, in spite of all her determination not to allow it.
With Rebecca she felt an easy rapport. Often they worked side by side for long periods without exchanging a word. Lady Ashton was not one to chatter on idly, but she had an intelligence to match Kate's own, and a well-developed sense of humor.
This morning they had been compiling a list of spices and household ingredients to be ordered from England. It might be nine months before they were delivered. Anything forgotten or misjudged would have to be done without for another year.
"Pride owns a ship, the Lady Rebecca that sailed for the Far East nearly two years ago," Rebecca said. "If it's not lost, we'll have treasures aplenty when it docks in Annapolis. He ordered a complete set of dishes and a rug for the center hall. Last time, there were beautiful silks and that hand-painted wallpaper that covers the dining room wall."
"Two years and you've heard no word?" Kate stood on a chair, peering into the back of a cupboard.
"We lost a ship five years ago, in the Sea of the Japans. Pride can hardly ask for the Rebecca. She flies under Dutch colors and pays no duty to the Crown."
"But that's..." Kate searched for the right words. "Illegal, isn't it?"
Rebecca laughed. "Half the fortunes of the Virginia and Maryland colonies are made in smuggling. Pride says that Mother England treats us as stepchildren, and as stepchildren we must find our own way."
They continued on for nearly an hour before Kate voiced a question she had longed to ask. "You said you had to leave your oldest son with the Shawnee when you married Pride's father. It must have been very difficult for you. Surely you would rather have taken him with you to England."