Whispers at Midnight

by Parnell, Andrea

  Ryne put his hands on the mare’s neck and stroked her soothingly until she was calmed. He hummed the song she had heard him singing in the stable at Wicklow, a sweet blending of notes that made the mare blow out a deep, slow breath and rub her head against his arm. The foal, seeing his mother had no fear of these strange creatures, approached them too.

  He seemed puzzled by Amanda’s wide skirts, and when he got close to her he planted his feet firmly and stretched out his neck, with its dark tufts of mane, to sniff at a frothy ruffle. A moment later his soft lips nibbled one of the yellow ribbons on her petticoat.

  “Well, you’re a fine one,” Ryne said softly, placing his hand gently on the foal’s withers. “Already taking a liking to the ladies.”

  Amanda raised her brows and smiled. “Have you given him a name?”

  “No,” Ryne replied, “though I’ve searched my mind for one that suits. What do you think? Red Glory or—”

  “Too stuffy.” Amanda interrupted.

  “Sullivan’s Pride?”

  “Lacks character.”

  Ryne arched a brow. “Then what?”

  “Cavalier. Sullivan’s Cavalier, if you must.” She gave a light laugh as the foal nibbled at her sleeve. “See what a flirt he is.”

  Ryne cocked his head to one side and watched the sorrel foal rub his soft muzzle against Amanda’s arm.

  His laughter rang out. “I believe you have aptly dubbed him. Cavalier it is.” He gazed pointedly at her. “I may need you to choose a name for each of the new foals. You have a curious talent for it.”

  “I would be delighted. Are there others?”

  “Not yet. Two of the mares are due to drop foals next month—another, Briana, later in the fall. I’ve put her out to pasture already. From her I expect one equal to Cavalier.”

  Amanda noted Cavalier’s fine long legs and the flanks that already held a hint of power. She nodded to Ryne.

  “If she produces as fine a foal as this, then you are sure to have the best bloodlines in Virginia.”

  “In the colonies,” Ryne interjected.

  She laughed. “In the colonies.”

  Cavalier left them to high-step his way back to Libelia’s side and, thrusting his head beneath her sleek belly, found her teat. His short tail whisked contentedly as he satisfied his appetite with her nourishing warm milk.

  “Come along,” Ryne said, absently wrapping an arm around Amanda’s shoulder and stroking her sleeve as they watched Libelia graze peacefully while the foal suckled. “They’ve no more use for us today. I have a few things to see to in the stable and then we’ll go down to see the other mares in the pasture along the river. We can take the buggy. There’s a road that runs the length of the river on the Sullivan lands. I’ll drive you home that way.” He paused. “You’ll find the view appealing, I believe.”

  She smiled and held her skirts high, displaying a pair of trim ankles and slim calves to Ryne as he held the gate open while she ventured out of the paddock.

  While he tended his horses, he let her visit an hour with Mrs. Deane. When he came for her she was holding the smallest of the Deane clan in her lap. With a word of good-bye to each child, she returned the young one to his mother and walked with Ryne to the gate.

  Ryne, eyes on her gently swaying hips and streaming hair, found it difficult to keep his mind on anything else. Warming his way with a smile, she waited at the buggy while he fastened the latch. As he lifted her into the carriage, he breathed deeply of the sweet jasmine scent that was so much a part of her. A moment later he had bounded up beside her, and with a practiced hand to the reins, started the team.

  “Is it far?” she asked.

  “Only a short drive,” he stammered, nearly choking on the words as she bent to pluck a blade of grass from the hem of her garment. The low-cut summer gown gapped away from her bosom and treated him to a view of her lovely breasts. The team, sensing the tension in his hands, quickly slowed their pace, the sudden rough motion sending Amanda toppling forward.

  “Ohh,” she gasped as Ryne’s arm latched around her waist and prevented her tumbling to the floor of the buggy. “What happened?”

  “Just a bump in the road,” he answered, his arm still firmly holding her waist.

  The desire to stop the carriage and mold his hands to her soft white flesh gnawed at him. But not so soon—he could not rush her.

  He pulled his hand away and returned it to the reins. His nervousness betrayed him only in the tension he relayed to the horses. The grays snorted and tossed their heads and for once found it impossible to keep an even gait until they had been driven for miles over the rolling pastures of the Sullivan lands.

  The time passed quickly. Ryne showed her his horses and identified each by name. They reached the river and started the drive along the rather rough lane which he assured her went all the way back to Wicklow. She felt a bit ashamed that she had been so quick to condemn Ryne in her mind. Though he was evidently short of funds, as he had told her, it was obvious his investments were good ones, as he had said, and at some time in the future would show him a profit. She was very glad she had been wrong about him.

  The buggy rumbled along above the wide James River. The afternoon sun was dropping low in the sky and reflecting bright rays on the deceptively calm water. Ryne had been quiet since they left the horses. For once she could understand his mood. The beautiful green fields, the cooling breeze from the river, the peaceful lazy clouds overhead made her feel peaceful and good too. She could see Wicklow in the distance, the copper domes so distinctly outlined against the horizon, the walls making a slash of red against the green hills beyond.

  She had become pleasantly accustomed to the bumping of his shoulder against hers and to the occasional movement of his thigh against her skirts. The antagonism between them had all but disappeared and was being rapidly replaced by a warmth as electric as the personality of the man beside her.

  She was not at all dismayed when Ryne stopped the buggy to give the horses a rest. Nor did she protest when he took her hand in his and invited her to explore a rocky area on the riverbank which he said had been disturbed by a recent storm.

  Only minutes later they had shed their shoes and were wading the shallows near the rocks. Ryne’s hand was as warm as the water was cool. She could feel the little currents in her body that his touch always brought. She felt too the splash of the water on her legs as she laughed and held her skirts up to her knees. She smelled the earthy, pungent scent of the riverbank where the water constantly washed against the mossy banks.

  She didn’t care that the water muddied from their steps and spattered the snowy white ruffles of her underskirt.

  “Oh!” Amanda slipped in the mire and nearly fell, her voluminous skirt looking suddenly like a summer parasol about to be carried away in the wind.

  “Keep to your feet!” Ryne laughed, but helped to pull her upright. He had not expected her to be so willing to spoil her dress or to discard her ladylike ways. And yet here she was acting the tomboy but making him feel she was very much a desirable woman. “I don’t want to have to fish you out of the river.”

  Amanda laughed too and trudged on through the slime and mud to where the rocks were large boulders jutting out of the bank. Ryne hoisted her atop one of the flatter ones, for here the water was no longer shallow.

  “I haven’t seen this before,” he said, wading into the waist-deep water to where there was a dark opening in the rocks.

  “What is it?”

  “A cave,” he answered. “Only it doesn’t appear to be a natural one. I believe this rock was dislodged by the storm last spring.” He indicated a large one that was now partially submerged. “I intend to take a look.”

  He ducked beneath the muddied waters near the opening and swam away. The river appeared much deeper there and it was impossible to see him. He was below for what seemed an endlessly long time. Amanda had begun to become alarmed, but then, face and hair dripping wet, he burst out of the water. Amanda was reliev
ed to see him reappear.

  “It’s large and dry inside,” he reported. “And seems to go back for some distance. There is a ledge here which leads inside.”

  He climbed to the rock beside her and removed his sodden shirt. Amanda’s lips parted slightly. Water rippled off his body. The wet black breeches outlined every sinewy muscle and every male part of him. His skin glistened, his eyes were jubilant.

  “What we need, my sweet, is an adventure. Are you game for it?”

  She tried to throttle the sudden surge of her pulse and the fluttering of her heart.

  Game for it? Of course she was.

  Chapter 8

  While Ryne unhitched the horses so they could graze freely, Amanda stripped away the layers of petticoats beneath her dress. By the time he returned from the buggy with a torch and rope, she had twisted up her skirt and tucked it into her waistband so that it would not trail into the water. She was glad for the interlude. It had given her blood time to cool.

  The ledge was slippery but not so difficult to walk that she could not follow Ryne into the cave. The floor sloped up and the higher they went the drier and wider the way became. Once Ryne had the torch lit, Amanda could see why he thought the cave had been enlarged. The walls were too smooth and regular to have been carved by the wash of water. Once they were back twenty feet or so, they came to a set of steps which left no doubt that a tunnel had been cut leading out of the cave. Staying as close to Ryne as possible and never allowing herself to be out of the glow of the torch, she followed him in the narrowing tunnel.

  “I think we are coming to the end,” he said as the light revealed a wall of rock ahead.

  Amanda stood beside him as he raised and lowered the torch along the wall, trying to make certain there was no continuation of the tunnel. She had no idea how deep within the earth they had gone, nor which direction they had taken from the river. She was glad the dark tunnel did not branch off, for it occurred to her they might have some difficulty discovering the way out if it did. Still she thought it peculiar she should feel so comfortable and unafraid in a cave when there were moments at Wicklow she could be as certain as Gussie that the house was filled with spirits.

  Ryne gave her the torch and asked that she hold it while he ran his hands over the wall checking the crevices and ridges in the rock.

  “Here,” he said, indicating where he wanted the light. “There’s a door cut into the stone. Feel it.” He took her free hand and led it over the narrow grooves in the rock. She could feel the slight crack, but, like Ryne, failed to notice another door close by and set more tightly into the wall.

  “Can you tell how it opens?” She was alive with excitement. Could this be the place where Jubal had hidden his gold? It would have been clever of him not to have kept it in the house at all.

  “I’m sure it’s only a matter of applying weight in the right spot.” He was pushing against the rock at various levels, but without success. Finally he decided it was necessary that they both push at the same time. He propped the torch against the wall and placed her hands where he wanted her to push. Above her he placed his own hands, and on the count of three they both pushed with all their strength. The door swung open so suddenly and quickly that both of them fell, one on top of the other, into the small room on the other side.

  “Amanda . . .” Ryne spoke her name softly and asked if she were hurt.

  “No. Only surprised, I think. And disappointed. I thought we might find more than rubble and dirt.”

  Ryne left her for a moment to get the torch, and confirmed what she had already concluded in the dim light. The room contained nothing of value or even of interest. There were bits of wood which might once have been a crude ladder, but mostly only rocks and soil which seemed to have caved in from above.

  “What do you suppose this was?” she asked as she tried to brush off some of the dirt that clung to her clothes and skin.

  “I believe there was a house above here at one time and these caves were dug out as a hiding place. It must have been long ago, in the days when there was danger from savages.”

  “Then you don’t think your grandfather made it?”

  “My guess is the caves were here long before he came. It’s possible he never knew they were here at all. Though from the river it makes a good hiding place for someone in a small boat.”

  “Yes, it would,” Amanda agreed. “Though I admit I hoped he did know of it and had used it for the safekeeping of his gold.”

  Ryne dropped back down on the floor of the cave beside her. She could not see the arrested expression that had come to his face as she talked. Nor could she know he was disturbed to hear of her interest in the gold. Gently and purposefully he placed one arm around her shoulders.

  “My guess is,” he said, “that Grandfather Jubal hid no gold at Wicklow or on his lands. The house was costly, the land more so, and by all accounts, his and Evelyn’s lifestyle was lavish. If there is gold here, it is only what was spent to establish the plantation.” He wondered if he had discouraged her or if she were only cleverly disguising her views when she responded.

  “I suspect you are right, but I preferred to believe otherwise.” She nestled closer to him in the flickering torchlight. It was pleasurable being with him in this secret place and feeling the strength and heat of his body next to her. “There is something romantic about imagining a hidden treasure is near and perhaps attainable. The thought is intriguing.”

  “Then I am sorry you were disappointed. But we have had our adventure, haven’t we?” His fingers laced into her hair and tilted her head back. “At least part of it,” he added, his voice going low and smooth.

  Amanda’s hands moved to his shoulders, her fingers trembling as his lips moved onto hers. His firm, moist mouth brought a delectable quivering sensation to her body. But his lips did not linger long, not nearly as long as she wanted. And when he released her and it was over all too quickly, she felt an aching need for more.

  “We must leave here, sweetling, before the torch burns out.” He was on his feet and helping her up. She was dazed a little by the aftereffects of his kiss and so only slightly concerned that she felt something beneath her hand as he pulled her from the floor. It was metal. Some relic from the house that had fallen in, she supposed as she dropped it back to the ground. She did not look closely enough to observe that it was not old enough to have been lost so long ago. It did not interest her much, not nearly as much as the fevered beating of her heart.

  Ryne’s heart was beating as fast, but it was not evident from the calmness of his voice or the sureness of his steps as he led Amanda out of the cave. He wished he had not been reminded she was a schemer. It was possible she had manipulated her way into an inheritance of Wicklow because she believed she would find the rumored gold. If so, she would be even more disappointed. If there were gold, and he was not truly convinced it did exist, Amanda would never find it. He would make sure of that.

  Ryne had taken the brunt of the fall when the door gave way and was covered from top to bottom with dirt and dried mud.

  “Damn,” he said as they returned to the shallow water. “I’m muddy as a bloody wallowing boar. I’ll need to wash before we’re on our way.” He strode out onto a big rock which jutted from the sandy bank. Rather than stand on the bank alone, Amanda followed him down and perched herself on the rock a little distance away. Ryne unfastened the brass buttons at the knees of his breeches and removed a pair of soggy black clocked stockings.

  That done, he stood and made a shallow dive into the river and swam out until the water was high on his chest. As Amanda stepped into her discarded petticoats, she saw him dip his head under to wash the mud from his hair and face.

  While he was washing, Amanda sat on the edge of the rock and washed the grime from her calves and feet. Out of the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of Ryne swimming toward her, his body moving expertly and easily through the water. He had removed his breeches and was turning to rinse the caked mud from his arms an
d legs. The dark color of his skin made her suspect it was not the first time he had swum nude in the river. At the same moment a loud plop sounded from further out on the rock. She diverted her eyes reluctantly to that spot, to discover that he had tossed the wet breeches there.

  She tried to keep her eyes away from him but could not. He, however, seemed to take no notice of her as he swam, his magnificent body cutting through the water with easy grace and power. His sinewy limbs coiled and uncoiled as he glided smoothly into deeper water. Amanda felt a pang of anxiety in her heart when he disappeared, but remembering he must have swum in the river many times, felt a little better.

  She walked farther out on the rock and scanned the surface. Ryne’s breeches lay at her feet. She bent down and picked them up and began wringing out the water.

  She smiled. He was truly an incomparable man, bad-tempered, surly, handsome, rude, and devoted to his horses. And when he wanted to be, thoughtful, tender and caring.

  Strange. It had warmed her heart the way he took on about Cavalier, the way he bragged about Libelia. At such times he seemed to let down a barrier and reveal a softness that was a surprise in such a hard and generally angry man. This Ryne, the one who could enjoy exploring a cave and swimming in the river, she liked so much better.

  She was in a dreamy state when she heard Ryne call her name. He was a good stone’s throw out in the river, but swimming rapidly toward her. When he was half the distance in, he stopped and trod water to stay afloat.

  “Toss my breeches out, will you?”

  Amanda ventured to the farthest promontory of the rock and gave his breeches a mighty toss, then spun around quickly so she would not watch him slip them on. But the rock was wet beneath her feet and in the suddenness of her turn she lost her balance. Before she could cry out, she was splashing into the deep water.

  Startled and knocked breathless, Amanda came up sputtering and coughing. She had never learned to swim, but now she kicked and thrashed her arms wildly, trying to imitate the motions she had seen Ryne making as he swam so effortlessly.