Feathers in the Wind: The Cygnets

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Feathers in the Wind: The Cygnets Page 7

by Camille Anthony


  Moaning a little, Susan gingerly raised herself to a sitting position. A deeper groan escaped her as pain exploded at her temples in answer to her movement. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to crawl across the floor towards her cousin.

  "I ... think we've been abducted. I seem to recall two foreign-looking men that snatched us from your chamber. Do you—?"

  Merri carefully moved her head in negation. “I cannot recall anything beyond placing our empty dinner tray in the corridor for Berta to remove."

  "Heavens, Merri.” Susan's gaze was worried as she examined her cousin, frustrated because she didn't even know what she should look for. “I don't remember you hitting your head when you fell ... oh. But later ... when we were in the carriage ... one of them did strike you. Do you think a blow on the head could have caused you to forget those events?"

  "All I know is that my head aches abominably.” Merri said.

  Across the room, the other occupant watched as the cousins tenderly helped each other maneuver themselves until they were resting side by side against one wall of the cabin, her expression one of intense hatred.

  Despite her mulish expression, the girl was beautiful, in the first flush of womanhood. Her figure was still girlish, long slim legs giving her a coltish look. Her hands and feet were fine-boned and small, the curve of her breasts slight. Her waist was tiny enough not to require the tight lacings of a corset to mold her into fashion's ideal. Only the generous curving of her hips declared her feminine maturity.

  Red was the common name of the magnificent mane of hair that graced her head, though it was deserving of a much more flamboyant description. The lustrous curls were a dark, deep mahogany until light revealed the crimson strands highlighted by glints of gold throughout.

  A lively intelligence shone out of her eyes, which were an interesting admixture of browns, framed in thick sable lashes. At the moment the girl's eyes were a dull brown shot with flecks of burnished gold as she directed her angry glare towards the two women sharing her prison.

  From where they reclined against the rough walls of the ship's cabin, the two cousins felt the scorching power of the woman's gaze and cringed, wondering why the girl directed such an inimical look towards them. In retaliation, they subjected the other to an intense perusal of their own.

  She seemed to be in much the same state as they. Exchanging speaking glances, they shrugged, at a loss to understand why she should bear them any ill will.

  Merridyth nodded at the woman. “Hello. My name is Merridyth St. John-Smythe, and this is my cousin, Lady Susan Fellows. Have you any idea where we are?"

  "Hell."

  Merridyth's mouth opened to deliver a tart response when Susan's gentle touch halted her. Across the cabin, the young woman's face had crumpled into despair before she could hide it behind her upraised hands.

  Through tears, sounding shocked and disgusted at her own course language, she said, “A week ago I should never ha thought sich a word, let alone used it.” Even under stress, her voice held the refined lilt associated with those of well-born Scottish blood.

  "Please,” Susan whispered, “We did not mean to upset you; however, we need to know where we are and what has happened to us. Can you tell us how we've come to be here?"

  Her voice seemed to calm the girl, and with some effort, she regained control enough to answer, “My name is Seana. Lady Seana Brigitta MacCarris. And I, like you, have been sold into slavery."

  "What—?"

  "Sold?"

  "I believe so,” Seana answered quietly. “Though I cannot say for sure how you came to be here, I know for a fact that I was sold to these people."

  "Why?"

  "How? Who would dare—?” Merri asked, so indignant she could hardly get the words out.

  "In your case, I do not know.” Seana answered with a shrug. “But I was sold by my own brother—my twin.” Her voice throbbed with emotion and new-welling tears. Her small hands clenched into impotent fists, and her body vibrated with the helpless anger engulfing her. “I shall never, ever forgive him. One day he shall pay for this betrayal."

  "Lady MacCarris—.” Merri called sharply, bringing the girl back from her visions of vengeance. “Now is not the time to be distracted with thoughts other than escape. Do you know who these people are?"

  Seana heaved a sigh, and fought to compose herself. “I apologize for my loss of control.” She continued after the girls accepted her apology with a dismissing wave. “I believe us to be on a Turkish brigantine. The people I have had occasion to see or speak with appear to be Eastern in dress and habit—"

  "I remember something.” Susan exclaimed. “The men who attacked us were dressed in outfits that reminded me of those stories from the Tales of the Arabian Nights. Merri, you recall that risqué book Rebeccah shared with us this summer...?"

  "I remember the book,” Merridyth admitted, “However, the events of our kidnapping still remain vague. Now would be a good time to refresh my memory, Susan. Then Seana can tell us her story if that is agreeable—?” A quick glance at the titian-haired girl assured them of her agreement.

  "...so, because you were still too tired to go down to supper, I ate with you in your room. You had just finished setting the dinner tray outside, and closing the door when we both heard a noise at the window. A big man was climbing over the sill, and before you could reopen the door and call for help, he blew through a small pipe. Something struck you in the neck, and you collapsed almost immediately. I managed to scream once, before I was koshed on the head by the second man through the window. When I awoke, I felt myself lowered onto a coach bench. You had regained consciousness and were struggling and yelling. I saw your captor hit you and you slumped over. They placed a foul-smelling cloth over my nose and mouth, and that is all I truly recall until I heard you calling me just now—” Susan coughed roughly, tried to swallow. “My throat is so dry,” she complained. “I need water. When will these people come to check on us? Don't they care how we are faring? Surely they did not go through the trouble of obtaining us just to see us perish from neglect—?"

  "They will come,” Seana promised ominously, “in their own good time—."

  "Why not tell us your story now, Seana,” Merri prompted gently, concerned at the vagueness that seemed to come and go at random in the girl's eyes. Watching Seana wring her hands in agitation, Merri feared that the young woman had reached the limits of her endurance and with little more adversity, might break under the strain.

  "My brother is Laird Sean Ian MacCarris,” Seana began in a strained whisper, “the new Earl of Rotherdam. You see, my cousin Gerold was The MacCarris, but he and Sean went hunting three months ago, and there was an accident. Anyway, everyone thought it was an accident—"

  "Do you mean to say your brother murdered your cousin?” Susan gasped. Merridyth was also shocked at what Seana seemed to be implying.

  Seana shrugged. “Once I would have said such an act was impossible for my brother. Now ... who's to say? No one witnessed the act, and from his recent actions, I can no longer believe him innocent. Not even of that heinous crime."

  Seana's statement had a sobering effect on the two listeners. They shared the closest relationship as cousins, and found it hard to accept that one cousin could kill the other for gain. They linked hands needing to feel connected to each other.

  "I'm sorry for interrupting,” Susan apologized, almost sorry they had asked to hear Seana's story. “Pray, continue."

  "Well, Sean was all set to take up his role as the rich Laird of MacCarris Hall when the solicitors came with the news that Gerold had gambled everything away. All Sean held was an empty title and a large amount of inherited debts. The lands and hall were entailed, so they couldn't be sold off, yet there was no capital for their upkeep. Since Sean was addicted to gambling himself, and had long since gone through what little inheritance our father had left him, he found a way to break the trust-fund my mother had left me as a dowry. He went to London at my expense.

 
"I objected, of course,” Seana said bitterly, “However, he was the executor of our parents’ estates ... and my legal guardian. Where could I turn for protection against my own brother?"

  Merridyth nodded sympathetically. She knew what it was like to be vulnerable to someone who misused their power, who masqueraded as an upright pillar of society, all the while secretly inflicting harm, telling themselves their abuse was in the best interest of the victim.

  Seana met Merri's sad, wise eyes and knew there was a story behind her understanding look. Against her will, she found her lips twitching into a smile. Her trust had been brutally betrayed and she felt it would be difficult to ever rely on someone again. But for some reason, she felt drawn to the two cousins. There was a sense of connectedness about them, something that linked them and made them, together, strong. Seana ached for that sense of belonging. To all intents and purposes, her brother was dead to her. She was adrift in the world with no family. No one to comfort her and stand between her and catastrophe—her eyes roved over the two girls sitting so close to each other, lending each other strength—no one to hold hands with ... She sighed and continued. “My dowry paid off the majority of the debts against the land, and even then Sean was not satisfied. Two weeks ago, he had me brought down from Scotland. I was ecstatic. I believed he planned to use me to his advantage in a marriage to some rich Lord. I didn't mind in the least,” she admitted hardily at Merridyth's outraged gasp. “Truly, anything that took me away from that moldering, run-down castle was welcome.

  "During that first week, Sean was all that was kind. He allowed me to go shopping for new dresses, took me about town—did everything to see me comfortable—” she sadly shook her head. “He found something wrong with each and every gown, and demanded the seamstress take them back for repairs. My purchases disappeared, and he blamed the thievery of the servants. In truth, he had returned everything and collected his money in exchange. He fooled me totally."

  "Three days ago, I received a note from Sean asking me to meet him here at the docks. I hesitated, but the man he sent urged me to hurry made some vague allusion to my brother having been hurt. Oh, I had been at loggerheads with Sean for some time, but he was my brother, and I loved him. We were all we had left of family. So I went with the man—"

  Susan and Merridyth watched tear after tear slide quietly down Seana's face. “You were brought here...?” Merridyth prompted gently, sensing she needed to finish her tale, needed the catharsis of admitting verbally what her brother had done to her, needed to make it real.

  "Yes. Sean waited on deck, unharmed, while I was brought to this cabin. A thin, tall man, who introduced himself as a physician, informed me he was to check me over. Two of those giant guards held me down, and two women lifted my dress and underthings up and ... that man placed ... his hand ... his finger ... inside me. I was terrified. I screamed myself hoarse calling for Sean. My loving brother never responded, never came to help me. I was a verra fool. I wanted to believe in Sean's innocence, that this was all some ghastly mistake—Sean would come back for me when he realized what he had done—” Seana stopped to swipe at the tears escaping her eyes. “I swore I wouldnae weep over him again.” she said in angry disgust over her weakness.

  "Anyway, some man claiming to be the leader of these people came down and talked with me. He said Sean had sold me for ten thousand pounds. He informed me that I was not to be afraid. I was not to be ... molested, as my worth was in my pureness. He promised I would not be harmed if I would devote myself to my ... lessons. With luck, he said, I was destined to belong to their Emir Jamal, the son of their Sultan."

  Seana drew her legs up under her skirts and rested her chin atop them. “They bring food four times daily,” she said, “and I go for a walk on deck twice a day. In the afternoons, the women come and show me many things: how to drape sheer cloth about myself, fashioning it into a modest covering, how to dress my hair in their manner ... things like that. Yesterday, they dumped you in here and set sail soon afterward. I could hear a lot of activity going on up above, as well as a lot of yelling. No one was been back since."

  Merridyth and Susan looked at Seana for a long time. Then they looked at each other and nodded. Both moved at once with the same thought in mind. Two sets of arms came about to embrace the Scottish maiden. Seana broke down in heart-rending tears, leaning into their caring hugs.

  "Shh, shh.” Susan crooned, rocking the sobbing younger girl gently. “It will be all right, Seana ... You're not alone any longer. Whatever comes, we will face it together. It's all right."

  Seana wept for a long time, all the bottled-up pain and fear pouring out of her at this unexpected touch of kindness. “I have been so frightened, so isolated—” she gulped out between sobs.

  "No more,” Merri promised. “We'll help each other through this.” Her voice hardened. “And whomever is responsible for our being in this situation ... well, one day they are all going to pay. And pay. And pay. I vow it."

  "I vow it.” Susan and Seana echoed the grim promise.

  Indeed, the Bey thought as he looked through the view-port of the cabin, I have captured a most impressive bouquet of English flowers for the garden of my Lord, Jamal. The beauty of the young misses is worthy of the Sultan, himself.

  Black, red and blond heads held closely together, the three women complimented each other to the degree that each one appeared more beautiful when bracketed with the others.

  The Bey nodded sharply at Shirka, who pushed open the cabin door, then stood aside to allow Emil to enter first. Behind the Bey came two serving women carrying trays of food and drink. They quietly placed the trays upon the black lacquered table and retreated to stand, heads bowed, beside the door.

  Sweeping his assessing gaze over the three captives, the Bey noticed with some surprise, the defiance etched on the raised faces of the two newer women seated on the rough-planked floor. So, he mused to himself, these two have courage. Good. Aloud, he said, “I am Emil al Hadeem el Bakaar, Bey of Seyhan, and servant to my Lord the Supreme Sultan Selim—third of that name—may he reign forever.” He bowed slightly. “While it is true you are destined for the Harem of our Divine Master, until you are delivered to him, I am your Lord. You are required to stand when I honor you by entering the place where you are abiding."

  Although the instruction was voiced in the gentlest tones, the cousins were not fooled. There was a definite threat present in the man's words. Merridyth came to her knees to answer him. “We do not recognize your authority,” she stated. Her heart thumped hollowly as she saw the Bey's eyes flair in anger. Gathering her dwindling nerve, she taunted, “In fact, I see only a common, cowardly abductor who waits safely aboard while his henchmen carry out all his dirty commands."

  Even while Susan and Seana were gasping in response to Merridyth's bold words, both women abandoned their spots on the floor to crawl over to Merri, clearly aligning themselves with her. And Merridyth, trying to hide the fact that she was practically shaking apart with fear, was amazed and shocked to see amusement replace the ire in the Bey's eyes.

  Executing a brief bow, Emil spoke. “I salute you, Miss St. John-Smythe. I have always revered courage bold enough to outface anything. Nevertheless, I am afraid I must insist normal protocol be followed, for such a bad example could cause needless trouble down the way.” The smile dropped from his face. His voice cracked out the next sentence. “You will stand. Now. Or you will receive the first lessoning in obedience at Shirka's hand.” He indicated the giant lurking in the doorway behind him.

  Knowing her cousin and afraid of how she might respond to such a threat, Susan squeezed Merri's hand, silently communicating that now was not the time to challenge this man. They needed to know a lot more about him before they could reasonably hope to succeed against him.

  Merridyth nodded in mute agreement. Stiffly, with obvious distaste, the three ladies rose to their feet, standing almost painfully erect.

  The Bey's eyes glinted with hidden amusement, then narrowed mena
cingly as he noticed the difficulty with which the two latest acquisitions moved; their wincing and gingerly movements bespeaking much discomfort. His eyes grew even more dangerous when he spotted the dark bruises on the forehead of the pale-haired one. In his own language, he snapped at Shirka, “What is this? This girl is marked, and the other appears to be in some pain. Explain yourself."

  Shirka prostrated himself before the Bey. “Oh, my master.” He cried, “know that your servants had much difficulty obtaining these two. They fought like she-lions, and in order to escape before they roused the household against us, it was necessary to subdue the pale one with physical force. The other recovered from the drug too soon, and began to fight and scream in the street. She was likewise subdued. If your servant has erred in this, I beg forgiveness, and place myself at thy feet for punishment."

  Emil tapped his foot irritably. “You know how I feel about marking a woman, Shirka,” he admonished, speaking Turkistan. “There is never an excuse for that. Also, one of these women is destined to be the wife of the Sultan's son. As such, she will have immense power ... and women have long memories. Ah, well. I will place your fate in the hands of those you have abused..."

  Emil bowed low to Merri and Susan,and apologized, telling them the huge man prostrated before them had had no orders to so assault them. He went on, offering to mete out any punishment they deemed worthy—even death..

  "Are we to understand that this man is your slave?” Merri questioned.

  "He is."

  "And was he under your orders to kidnap us?"

  "He was."

  "Then what justice would be served in punishing him because we fought him? Did you think we would come along tamely?"

  "Other women would have done so."

  The girls both stiffened at that. “We, sir, are not other women.” Merri averred coldly.

  "So I begin to see,” Emil said. He stroked his short beard. “Am I correct in assuming then, that you do not wish this man to be punished?"

 

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