Yet that had only been her dream. She searched the bed and found her boot resting beside the pillow. There was no gentleness in the real man. He was a rogue. A villainous cur with eyes like a blue web spun to lull a victim within his grasp. She pushed her feet into the boots and laced them tightly. The man, whoever he might be, was a dangerous jackanapes with no heart and no morals.
Silvia draped her cloak loosely over her shoulders and entered the passageway to find Captain Langham. A few steps from her door, she felt the ship pitch to one side. Steadying herself by keeping to the wall, Silvia edged slowly along until she reached the captain’s quarters. She knocked lightly, hoping she would not have to look for him on the bridge.
In a moment the door opened. “Why, Miss Bradstreet, what a pleasant surprise.” Langham greeted her with a warmth that should have quickly set her at ease.
He was a stalwart fellow, with bowed legs and large meaty hands. Silvia strained to her tiptoes to see him better in the dim light. Something about him disturbed her. Yet at a glance his expression was full of reassurance. Only a dull light in his steely eyes indicated all was not as it seemed with the master of the vessel.
“Captain, I must speak to you,” she said nervously.
“By all means, Miss Bradstreet. I was about to send the cabin boy to invite you to join us for dinner. You’ve saved him the trip.”
With welcome civility he invited her in. Silvia braced against the doorjamb as the ship pitched again. The cabin, she saw at a glance, was a spacious compartment compared to the one she occupied. The walls were of rich rubbed mahogany and fitted with polished brass lamps. At the far end was a small teak table laid out with rose-patterned china and silver goblets.
Silvia halted her wobbly steps, her tawny eyes wide with shock. Seated were two men, so much alike she thought for a moment she was seeing double. But in an instant she knew the eyes were different. Those of the man on the left blazed at her like blue flames, flickering a succession of emotions she could not discern.
His trousers were of a pearl grey and his waistcoat of a charcoal color. A diamond pin set in gold sparkled in the white silk jabot at his throat. Her lower lip trembled as she looked into the face vividly etched in her memory.
She felt her cheeks flushing and turned her gaze to the man at the right. He rose as she entered the cabin. He was dressed in brown, in garments as rich as those worn by the other. A tan shirt trimmed with lacy ruffles at the sleeves and at his neck almost matched the light brown of his hair. His coat was a dark shade of brown and fastened with gold buttons. His eyes were the peaceful blue-gray of a dove, softer, less serious, less mocking than those of his companion.
Langham faintly lifted his brows as he watched the confrontation with unmasked irony. “Miss Bradstreet, may I present two other passengers aboard the Eastwind...”
“Miss Bradstreet and I are acquainted,” Roman said before the captain could complete the introduction. He rocked back in his chair. A half-smile crossed his lips and changed to a brooding scowl as he touched a finger to the welt on his forehead. “Though she neglected to tell me her name.”
Her eyes blazed with golden fury as she glared at his handsome face. She might have stung it with a slap had he not been across the room.
Laughter rang out from the other gentleman, but when Silvia glanced at him she saw the jesting look was directed at his companion.
“A memorable introduction, I believe.” He smiled and made a slight bow. “I am Morgan Toller and the boorish chap is my brother Roman.” His eyes twinkled with amusement as he watched his brother arch a brow and glare at him.
Morgan had goaded Roman into telling him how he received his injury. It wasn’t often he could laugh about his brother’s escapades with the fair sex. And to his eyes Miss Bradstreet was the fairest of fair. Roman generally had his pick of women, and seeing his vexation was quite amusing.
“I’m delighted to meet you, Mr. Toller,” Silvia said, blushing faintly as Morgan took her hand and raised it to his lips.
Langham stepped nearer. “You will join us for dinner, Miss Bradstreet?” he asked, then smiling pleasantly added, “I trust you rested well.”
“Captain, I...Silvia’s jaw went slack. Behind Langham she could see the imposing form of Roman Toller as he got to his feet. Arms crossed over his chest, he stood like a carved figure, his stare fixed tauntingly on her face. He did not try to hide the mockingly humorous glint in his eyes. Angrily she blinked back her tears, but if Langham noticed, he remained politely mum.
“Captain, I find I am somewhat indisposed. I am not accustomed to the sea,” she said in a voice deceptively calm. Her dark brows slanted in a frown. “If you will excuse me, I will return to my cabin.” Her chin went up. “Perhaps you would see that a tray is sent to me later.”
Roman Toller deliberately meant to awe her. And it disturbed her that he stood so close. She had an uncomfortable suspicion he had been recounting his misadventure to the other men. If such were the case, and she had no reason to doubt that it was, telling the captain of his advances would avail her little.
Captain Langham presented himself as an honorable man; nevertheless she suspected that in an exchange of accusations, the word of a gentleman would win out against that of a bond servant.
“Are the accommodations suitable, Miss Bradstreet?” Langham seemed particularly pleased with himself, and his abundance of politeness began to wear tediously on her nerves.
Could she trust the captain? Her thoughts were of rage, but her reply came softly. “The accommodations are beyond my expectations, sir.” Silvia shifted unsteadily from one foot to the other. “I bid you a pleasant good evening, gentlemen,” she said sweetly. “Forgive me for interrupting you.”
The men might have had a good laugh at her expense. She would not give them the satisfaction of being intimidated by them or of further kowtowing in their presence.
Langham smiled benignly and escorted her into the narrow passageway. “Good evening to you, Miss Bradstreet.” He locked his knees to ride the easy listing of the craft. “I trust you will soon be feeling better.”
“Oh!” she cried out as the vessel lobbed heavily, and he touched an icy hand to her arm as support against the sudden motion.
“We should be in calmer seas by morning.” Langham smiled and gave a courteous bow.
Silvia took her leave with a nod of acknowledgment, her heart beating with anxious rapidity. A fevered flush stained her skin and she determined, as she fought the doubts that plagued her, to spend much of the voyage in what little sanctuary her cabin could offer.
The thought of being confined for months on a ship with that horrible Roman Toller repulsed her as much as being closeted with an evil sea monster. She closed her eyes and prayed the time would pass quickly and she would soon reach Schlange Island, where at last she would find a life free of complications and danger.
Captain Langham noted the proud set of her shoulders as she opened the cabin door and disappeared inside. He sensed undercurrents in the conversation between Miss Bradstreet and the Tollers he did not fully understand. And he would just as soon keep it that way. Whatever Schlange’s plan for the three of them, he had fulfilled his part. He hoped for his sake the old man would be satisfied. Wilhelm Schlange demanded more than the devil from those in his employ, and his wrath would be no less than that of the Dark One if the plan went astray.
He pitied the girl, for she had no chance against Schlange.
Chapter 2
The sun flecked a hazy sky with patches of blood-red light just before sunset. Silvia Bradstreet stood alone on deck as the Eastwind docked in the small harbor of Schlange Island, her skin rose-tinted from the gusty wind which whipped her hair around her like a dark, luminous mist. She felt an excited flutter in her heart as she prepared to disembark. The voyage from London had seemed endless and had been fraught with bad weather and bad company.
Today was a new beginning, one she had dreamed of many stormy nights at sea. Today she would
begin her term as an indentured servant to Wilhelm Schlange. Anxiously she looked past the sturdy, weathered timbers of the pier to view a land like none she had ever seen.
Rapping her fingers anxiously against the rail, she gazed at a square tabby building not fifty yards from the dock. Beside it spiky green plants fanned leaves sharp and pointed as knife blades above the dense underbrush. The gnarled and twisted trunks of trees had edged their way toward the sea. Long branches dipped to the ground like huge tentacles waiting to snare unwitting prey, and from the lichen-covered bark hung strands of limp gray moss swaying lightly in the constant wind that swept in from the ocean.
Silvia shuddered, feeling as if she had arrived on the shores of a primeval land. Even the air felt strange, as if a smothering heaviness could invade her lungs. She detected the mingling scent of two worlds, the salty smell of the sea mixed with the lush smell of vegetation.
A shout cut through the air, issuing Captain Langham’s orders to begin unloading cargo. The loudness of his voice startled Silvia as she reflected on the newness of the land and her prospects for the future. Turning, she saw the approach of a dozen men and one stout woman, all looking pale and weary from the voyage. She recognized them as fellow bond servants entering the service of Wilhelm Schlange, just as she was.
With a word of thanks to the captain, Silvia hoisted her bulging carpetbag and joined the group as they followed the first mate toward the tabby building. The sand was soft and deep; her boots sank in past the heels, making the going slow. A swarm of pesky insects buzzed relentlessly around her face.
People rushed by, shouting among themselves, carrying bundles, pushing drays, all looking but none speaking to the line of bond servants strung out behind the mate. A tug to her skirt stopped Silvia’s progress. She turned back to find a thorny bush had hooked the hem of her skirt. Not wanting to be left behind, she kicked the snag loose with her foot and hurried after the group.
A moment later they were all inside a sparsely furnished room which, though clean, was hot and stuffy. She seated herself on a backless wooden bench as she saw the others doing, taking a place beside the stout woman. It was a poor welcome considering the journey they had made. As her eyes warily scanned the room, taking in the huddled bodies and awed faces, she could not help wondering what would happen next.
“It’s a strange place,” Silvia whispered tersely to the woman at her side.
The old woman merely nodded and closed her eyes as she rested her kerchiefed head against the rough surface of the wall.
Across the room, the mate paced restlessly until all were settled. Once the bundles had been put aside and the anxious rumble of voices quieted, he cleared his voice and strode to the door.
“Cap’n Langham says ye’re to wait here for the overseer and wagon to take ye to the quarters,” he said, and left hurriedly to return to the ship.
Langham had told Silvia the Eastwind would spend a few days at dock to take on cargo and then continue to the West Indies before returning to England. She wondered what her living arrangements would be on Schlange Island. Better than the tiny cabin aboard the ship, she was certain. And here at least she would not live in constant fear someone might burst in on her.
Roman Toller’s arrogant face flashed in her mind. She had not seen the Toller brothers the last two days of the journey, and now as she sat in the windowless room and closed her eyes, she was annoyed that thoughts of Roman haunted her memory.
Somehow when she pictured his face in her mind it was always as it had been the first time, with a gentleness in his eyes and a slight smile on his lips. Only when she thought of his mocking laugh and taunting words could she push away his image and not feel a little longing in her heart. Her brow wrinkled in a contemptuous frown. He was undoubtedly traveling to the West Indies and would exit her life as hastily as he had entered it.
She looked up. The dull thud of horses’ hooves on the sandy soil and the rattle of a wagon turned her attention to the door. A moment later Langham entered, followed by the overseer, a heavyset man who seemed to swagger rather than walk. The man had a pockmarked square face and pitted skin tanned to mahogany color. Silvia felt herself tightening at the sight of him. His squinty eyes were summing up the bunch that had arrived on the Eastwind and his eyes had noted Silvia in particular. He stared at her so conspicuously that Silvia ultimately looked away, turning her gaze to those around her. They were all staring at her as well. From the corner of her eye she saw the overseer move towards them.
He had the sour smell of sweat, and as he walked past her she held her breath a moment. His white shirt was rolled to the elbows and wet through; the worn black trousers showed the dusty marks of his labor. He carried at his side a whip coiled neatly in three rings he held tightly against the leather handle. Before he spoke, he pulled a grimy handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the drops streaming from his temples.
“All ye bond servants follow me,” he said brusquely, gesturing for them to stand and pointing to the door. A murmur rose from the group as they collected their meager bundles and hurriedly moved out toward the wagon.
“Miss Bradstreet.” Nodding politely, Langham called to Silvia before she could exit. A deceptive lightness shone in his eyes as he continued. “Mr. Schlange wants you to come directly to the main house.” He motioned for her to sit. “Wait here. Schlange’s man Odin will come for you.” He gave a gleaming smile and added in a lowered voice. “I trust Schlange Island will fill all your expectations, Miss Bradstreet, and prove to be a haven for you.”
Silvia took her seat again and fretfully ran a finger inside the high collar of her dress. She was tempted to loosen the first few buttons, but decided against it.
“Thank you, Captain Langham,” she said, sighing ever so slightly. She was disturbed by the mocking tone of his voice; it made her uneasy and she would be glad when he was gone. “I am anxious to meet Mr. Schlange and learn the nature of my duties.” Silvia quickly lifted her brows. “Will I see you again, captain, before you sail?” she asked, uncertain whether or not she would welcome another meeting.
“No, Miss Bradstreet, I’ll stay with the ship. I dare not leave when there is cargo to be attended to. Again, my best wishes, and I bid you farewell.”
May you have a safe journey and fair weather, captain,” Silvia said politely, all the while remembering the cool blue of Roman Toller’s eyes and the episode that had marred her journey more than the storms at sea.
When Langham had departed she smoothed a few rumples from her skirt. Every wool fiber in her dress seemed to be scratching at her skin. The first order of business once she got settled would be to find a cotton fabric and sew a dress more suited to this climate.
Suddenly the room grew dark as if a door had closed, shutting out all light. But there had been no sound and when Silvia looked up she saw that the doorway was filled with the bulk of a man dressed from head to foot in black. A sensation like ice touching the back of her neck accompanied her alarm and she wished she could flee. Yet there simply was no where to go.
With a closer look she saw that not only were his clothes black but that his skin was also the shiny color of coal. Startled, she gasped and stood quickly, taking a hasty step back. Without a sound, he moved his cumbersome body inside, and light again flooded through the doorway.
He was the first black-skinned man she had ever seen, and she could not help but stare openmouthed when he stopped just inside the door. His hair was a wiry black mat like sheep’s wool, his nose wide and flat. He wore the livery of a footman, which added to the strangeness of his appearance. His heavy features gave no hint of welcome above the large white teeth exposed when he spoke. For a disconcerting moment, Silvia doubted her safety. This man seemed as strange to her as this new land, and she wondered if she had made the right decision in leaving England.
“Excuse me, Miss Bradstreet,” he said with a careful pronunciation of her name. Her eyes widened in stunned wonder at the educated manner in which he addressed her. “I am
Odin. Mr. Schlange sent me to bring you to the house.” Bending low, he lifted her bag and walked out the door.
Silvia hesitated a few seconds before collecting her wits and following. Outside, the setting sun glowed a flaming red above the treetops and gave an orange glow to the landscape. Silvia looked around for a carriage or wagon, and seeing none, quickly searched for Odin. She located him following a path that led into the forest. He showed no sign of slowing or waiting for her to catch up, so hoisting her skirts, she began a brisk walk to overtake him.
By the time Silvia reached the tree line, Odin was almost out of sight. To her relief, she noted the path was plainly marked, but once she stepped beneath the leafy canopy of the trees, she could not see very clearly. Eerie ribbons of light that had found a narrow opening in the leafy awning overhead cast strange shadows on the ground and scarcely provided enough light for her to follow the walkway. She hoped the house was not far, for the sun would soon pass beyond the horizon and she would be enveloped in a cloak of darkness.
Apprehension coursed through her. She sensed the presence of someone moving parallel to her but hidden in the cover of the foliage. Images of unknown creatures raced wildly through her thoughts. She swallowed at the tightness in her throat and scoffed at her imagination. This was an inhabited island and estate, not a dangerous jungle. But even with her own reassurances, she stopped abruptly on hearing a sudden crackling sound followed by the definite thud of footsteps. Fear spurted through her and she broke into a run.
“Odin,” she called to the monstrous shape barely visible ahead of her. “Odin, wait,” she cried frantically. But if Odin heard, he did not acknowledge her with even a break of his gait.
Another sound echoed from the trees and Silvia began to run faster. In a few moments she overtook Odin and breathlessly took a place by his side. Even then he did not turn his head to look at her but continued along the path at the same pace. She fell in step beside him, straining to match the length of his stride, looking neither left nor right until they entered a clearing from which loomed the enormous gray stone walls of a castle.
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