Jensen brushed aside Levi's guiding hand as they followed the magistrate to the door. "By the way, how is Miss Trent?" Mr. Wesley asked.
"Haven't seen her in a while. I suppose she's fine," Levi replied.
"I was just wondering when I might be preparing a marriage license." At the magistrate's unexpected statement, Jensen stumbled a bit, and to her annoyance, found herself steadied by Levi's hand at her elbow. "The carpet buckles a bit there," Mr. Wesley said looking directly at her over his shoulder. The wizened crinkles at the corners of his eyes became more pronounced, as though they shared a secret.
She wrenched her arm from Levi's grasp. "Isn't that lovely. Having the choice to marry when you wish."
Ignoring her barbed words, Levi spoke to the magistrate, "Miss Trent and I have no immediate plans."
As soon as the front door was opened, Jensen hurried down the gravel drive and clambered aboard the back of the wagon, only to find Levi's strong arms effortlessly scoop her up and plunk her down on the box of the wagon. "Stay, Duff," he ordered as if he were speaking to his wolf. He swung up beside her.
With a jerk of the reins, the horses took off at a fast clip down the path. She made a great show of making herself very small so no part of her body would brush his. "Instead of being angry at me, you should be grateful."
"Grateful! That's the limit! Pray tell me, Master North, why I should be grateful?" She inadvertently crushed her copy of the contract in her hands.
"The way I see it, you would have met up with a far worse fate than this left to your own devices." He slung his heavy arm around her, snatching the crumpled paper from her. "I'll just keep this safe for you," he said with a glint of deviltry in his eyes as he tucked the scroll into his jacket pocket.
"I hate you."
He turned, his eyes impaling her like steel sabers. "Darlin', you can hate me all you want." He patted the pocket that contained the contract. "But it doesn't change the fact that I own you."
"Pray tell, do I bow and kiss your boots when you enter a room or will a curtsy do?"
"Hmmm." He rubbed his chin consideringly. "Although the idea has appeal, it might be a bit much." His sinfully appealing dimple furrowed his cheek.
"I hope you're amused. Being the only indenture on Moss Rose, I can only imagine what my status will be and how I will be treated by the others."
"This business is just between you and me."
Taking some small comfort from his words, she relaxed back against the bench. Focusing her attention on the scenery, she soon found herself growing drowsy, her chin drooping to her chest. Lack of sleep from her quixotic escapade of the previous night was beginning to take its toll. She allowed her lids to drift shut, thinking only to rest her eyes for a moment. She awoke an hour later to find herself in the lap of her colonial master, her face buried against his chest, an arm wrapped around his lean waist, and her legs dangling over one of his impossibly muscular thighs.
"You needn't look at me like that, Duff. As if I were a rabid animal. After all, you had no problem cuddling with me the whole ride home. In fact, you purred just like a contented kitten in your sleep." With a knowing quirk of his brow, he lifted the arm he had used to secure her to his side. She scrambled off his lap. She gasped with shock as she accidentally brushed her ankle against his heavy arousal. "As you are now apparently aware, it was not an unpleasant experience for me either, even if it was more than a little frustrating."
She hopped to the cobblestones of Moss Rose's courtyard and looked up into eyes glittering wickedly with the reflected sparks of the candlewood torches lighting the perimeter of the drive. She was astonished to find that he did not look the least bit contrite about his admission. "A gentleman would apologize."
He leaped to the ground with amazing agility for such a big man and bowed deeply. "I do so apologize. It was, though, a most natural reaction, considering how sweetly you nuzzled into me."
"Oooh! You sir, are the farthest thing on this earth from a gentleman!" she exclaimed and turned sharply on her heels.
He was behind her in a flash, catching hold of her waist. "You forgot something." His warm, teasing breath sent a shiver of goose-bumps up the nape of her neck as he slid the contract of indenture into her pocket, purposefully caressing her thigh as he did so.
Halfway down the path, she took a peek over her shoulder at him. He stood in the same spot. Limned by torchlight, his powerful build struck her again with awe. Daunted by the intense way he was looking at her, she snatched up her skirt and hurried her pace. The parchment, proclaiming her his property, made a crackling sound with every step.
Chapter 7
Jensen discovered that her first attempt at serving supper had also been her last. Perhaps Master North had decided that having his new servant, hot food, and Miss Regina Hartwell in the same room was a risky combination.
Changing linens, scrubbing floors, and beating rugs were now the duties occupying most of her strenuous day. She continued to fret about her aunt's dilemma. Although fearing the worst had already transpired, she continued to plot her escape from Moss Rose.
On this particular afternoon, she found herself so exhausted her muscles actually trembled as she changed the linen on yet another bed. She'd never stepped foot in this bedchamber before, but she knew it to be Levi North's. The fringed hunter's wamus was hanging from the massive, black walnut bedpost, and the knife he had cut himself with rested on the marble mantel of his fireplace. The knife that had saved her life. She relived the horrible moment with a shudder. Feeling inexplicably flustered, she hurried to finish tidying up his room.
As she was leaving, she couldn't help noticing an unusual object dangling from the ironwork frame of the looking glass, a tangle of string, lavender shells, and rough beads of a dull blue. An Indian necklace, she surmised, but then noticed a wedding band and an oval locket glinting golden from its braiding. Unable to squelch her curiosity, she pried open the locket and out fluttered something as light as air. The bedchamber's only window was covered with heavy drapes, obliterating the natural light, and her small candle provided only a flicker of illumination. She was forced to search the hard floor with her fingers.
Suddenly aware of approaching footfalls, she began frantically groping, not entirely sure of what it was she was searching for. Her heart raced as the door creaked open, and Levi's massive frame filled the doorway.
"Have you lost something?" he said, crouching down close enough for Jensen to smell the blend of freshly mowed hay, sweat, and tobacco leaves that clung to him. His hair, studded with straw and leaves, was hanging loose to his shoulders. There was a weariness to his face she'd never seen before. It made her want to soothe away the frown lines between his brow.
"Is this what you were looking for?" he asked shortly, holding up a tiny braid of black and brandy colored hair to the wavering candlelight.
A hot flush suffused her face. "I'm sorry--I had no right--please forgive me. It's just that it was so strangely beautiful, I had to touch it."
"Don't worry your head," he said with a wave of his hand. "Christ Almighty, I haven't seen a blush like that since I caught Matthias playing 'kiss and tell' with two maids in the hayloft." The furrow between his brows disappeared as he laughed gently.
Refusing his proffered hand, she sprung up. Feeling as though she might cry with the humiliation of it all, she gave a brief curtsy and pushed past him out the door.
She fled. The pounding of her heart seemed louder than the soft padding of her feet down the long hallway. Finding a vacant alcove, she stopped to catch her breath. Closing her eyes, she remembered the strands of lover's hair, the burnished gold and black braided eternally together and experienced an unfamiliar sensation, like an icy knot, settling in the pit of her stomach.
***
Jensen woke slowly Sunday morning stretching the sleep from her body. Her muscles still trembled with fatigue. She had never been one to complain about hard work. At Shadwell, instead of sitting to tea all day talking idly of F
rench fashions, eligible bachelors, and dowries, she had chosen to spend her days tending the gardens and grooming the horses. Her brother, Cyril, had always likened her to a honeybee for her refusal to sit idle. If only the chores of housekeeping were not so tedious, she thought with regret.
Through the mosquito netting that shrouded her narrow, squeaky bed, Jensen could see that Celia was rousing from her peaceful sleep. Celia was turning out to be a pleasant, albeit talkative, roommate, and she didn't seem to mind sharing her once private little room with Jensen.
Celia bounced out of bed. "Well, Jens, what might you be up to today? Some of us girls will be sitting down to an afternoon of quilting."
"I must admit, needlework has never been one of my talents," Jensen said sheepishly, "I don't seem to have the patience for it. Besides, after a week indoors, this place is beginning to close in on me like a mausoleum. What I really need is a dose of fresh air. I think I'll explore the gardens."
"Outside! In this blazing heat!" Celia shook her head in disbelief. "You'd best borrow one of my sunbonnets, or you'll be cooking that tiny nose of yours red for sure. And those pesky mosquitoes." She wrinkled her nose. "Sounds like a disagreeable way to spend one's day off, but it's your day to do as you like. I'm not one to tell people what to do, after all." Jensen's lips turned up slightly at the corners at Celia's recitation of her golden rule for minding one's own business. A rule, which she broke at least half a dozen times each day.
"Ooh, look at the time," Celia noted, glancing at the brass clock on the case of drawers. "If we don't hurry ourselves, we'll miss a chance to gobble up some of Cook's delicious hoecakes. They are heavenly with hot maple syrup," she said, licking her bow shaped lips. "It's first come, first serve around here. Thomas has been known to eat ten in one sitting." Celia laughed as she slipped quickly out of her nightdress and threw open the doors of the wardrobe.
"I've never heard of them, but I'm sure they're delicious," Jensen said, still amazed by the generous fare that Mr. North provided his servants.
Celia gave Jensen a quick slap on the back, "Jens, you sure have a lot to learn about Virginia. You're just lucky that you've got me here to teach you." She tossed her sunbonnet on to Jensen's bed and bounded out the door.
Jensen quickly straightened the fleecy, floral quilt which she had grown quite attached to, looking forward to diving under it's soft warmth at the end of a long day. She lifted her eyes as heavy, deliberate footsteps vibrated the plaster-ceiling overhead. After a week cleaning and dusting every corner of Moss Rose Manor, she was certain that Matthias North's bedroom was situated directly above hers. She wondered what he would be wearing this morning--although she thought he looked devastatingly handsome in everything he wore. Matthias dressed with an elegant flare in stark contrast to Levi, who except for the evening meals, seemed always to sport worn buckskin breeches and a dropped-shoulder, linen shirt.
"Matthias! Sweetheart! We'll be late for Reverend Buckley's morning service if you do not hurry." Regina's pleading voice bounced off the walls of the first floor reminding Jensen of her uncle's mynah bird, Winnie. In fact, Regina bore an uncanny resemblance to Winnie with her pointed nose, beady eyes, and sarcastic tongue; the only difference being that Regina wore borrowed feathers.
Jensen, becoming more adept at securing the tight bodices of the servant dresses, quickly laced the fitted brown garment and grabbed her pinafore with the large front pockets, hoping to collect strawberries and wildflowers during her excursion. She reached for the knob of the door, cringing as she heard Regina's tone becoming more insistent.
"Matty darling! Do you not hear me?"
At the end of the dim passageway, Jensen noticed with amusement, Matthias leaning against the wall, his eyes closed, a silver flask hovering close to his lips. After taking a fast swig, he opened his eyes and rested his head back with a heavy sigh. "Yes, Regina, I hear you. The entire blasted plantation can hear you," he mumbled to himself.
Jensen swallowed a giggle and strode swiftly, hoping to pass by him unnoticed. But he pushed himself off the wall and stopped in front of her. His appearance certainly did not disappoint. His golden hair framed eyes which matched his sapphire-blue brocade vest. Upon seeing Jensen, his frown changed suddenly to a glittering smile, his eyes crinkled charmingly at the corners. Capping his flask, he slid it discreetly into the inside pocket of his black coat and fastened the silver buttons.
"Where might you be off to in such a rush, my little sprite?"
"I've heard Cook's breakfast cakes are irresistible and hard to come by."
"Mmm, hoe cakes and a mug of spiced beer in Cook's warm kitchen. Sounds a lot more inviting than where I'm off to." Matthais's brow creased with genuine regret.
"Matty, our new reverend will be old and gray by the time we get to the chapel."
Matthias shuddered slightly at the approaching sound of clicking heels. Shrugging his shoulders as if in apology, he enveloped Jensen's small hand in his, pressing it softly against his lips. With a wink of one golden lashed eye, he bid her farewell and strode gracefully away.
As she walked the path to the kitchen, Jensen's mouth watered. Opening the door, she was struck by the rich, oversweet scent of maple syrup hanging heavy in the overheated room. Crammed on benches before two long pine tables, the servants chatted amiably amongst themselves as they quaffed tankards of beer. Cook and her two helpers stood before the blazing hearth, roasting small balls of wet cornmeal on gardening hoes. Jensen squeezed in between Thomas and Celia.
Celia pushed a tankard of ale in her direction. After a second serving of hoecakes, Jensen determined it was the delicious maple syrup rather than the dry, crumbly cakes themselves that made this meal a treat.
"I sure hope Mr. North hires a horse manager right quick. Calista looks ready to burst. I'm prayin' that foal doesn't come while I'm in charge."
Jensen couldn't help overhearing Thomas complaining to Samuel, a young stable hand with hair so thin and pale in color he resembled nothing so much as a plucked chicken.
"I don't envy you none, Thomas. Those horses are the master's pride and joy." Samuel shook his head in sympathy.
"How long has the mare been with foal?" Jensen asked turning to face Thomas.
"Must be near eleven months, to my guess," he replied hesitantly.
"Eleven months!" she nearly shouted, and then seeing the odd look in Thomas's large brown eyes quickly altered her voice to feign naivete. "Eleven months--why that seems like such a long time."
"It's a pity about that stable master," Celia piped in, "heard he worked for the king himself, tending the royal steeds."
"Poor ol' chap, caught himself a frightful fever. Wally's boy says the captain feared he'd spread the sickness so they bundled and dropped him in the ocean before he even took his last breath," Samuel said through a mouthful of food. At this, Jensen quickly hid her face in her hands to hide her laughter.
"What's the matter, sweetums?" Celia asked, smacking Jensen's back hard. "One of those cakes take a wrong turn?"
Jensen, taking her hands from her tear-streaked face, waved off Celia's good intentions. Standing, she brushed the crumbs from her pinafore and bid goodbye as she left the steaming kitchen.
Celia's warning about the sun was not an exaggeration. Jensen could feel the searing heat bearing down on her as she entered the symmetrically manicured pleasure garden. It was a hedge-lined maze of oyster shell paths leading around circular and rectangular beds of flowers. Jensen stopped and breathed deeply the heady scent of the lush pink and yellow roses. Something hummed overhead, and she ducked instinctively. Thinking it was a swarm of bees, she swatted at the air. On closer inspection, she found it was a tiny bird. Amazed, Jensen watched as it used its needle-like beak to suck the nectar from the potted fuchsia. She stood near enough to see its opalescent feathers glimmering in the sunlight just before it darted out of sight.
The familiar smell of horses, carried in on the warm moist breeze, drew Jensen out of the gardens in search of the s
tables. She missed being around the magnificent creatures. She thought with grief and longing of Cinnabar, her beautiful strawberry roan, and the way he would shake his forelock playfully at the sight of an apple. On the way to the stables, Jensen spotted the kitchen garden. It was surrounded by a small, wooden fence built high enough to keep out jackrabbits, squirrels, and other pests, but not high enough to keep Jensen from reaching over and plucking out a large carrot. She lightly tapped the root on her hand to loosen any soil that still clung to it and quickened her pace.
The Moss Rose Stables were hidden from view by a wall of shrubbery, with the exception of the verdigris weathervane spinning slowly on the roof. Clean white paint covered the wood trim of the stables and surrounding corral. Jensen could see Archer, Levi's stallion, reaching his sleek gray head between the slats of the fence, nibbling gingerly on some of the nearby dandelions. Sensing Jensen's presence, he pricked his ears and then lifted his finely tapered muzzle. Jensen slowed her approach and began flattering the high-strung steed in dulcet tones. Still wary of her, the horse pawed lightly at the ground with his front hoof and exhaled a gentle snort. He contemplated the treat Jensen offered him for a moment, and then his powerful lips enveloped the carrot and finished it in two loud crunches. Archer proved to be far easier to warm up to than his master. Jensen's small offering was enough to win over several moments of soft nuzzling.
The slam of the stable door caused Jensen and her new friend to turn. Thomas was leading a dun with three black stockings toward the corral gate. Gauging by the slow, lumbering gait of the horse, this was obviously the mare Thomas feared would deliver while he was in charge. The skin on the animal's midsection was stretched so tight, Jensen was sure she could see the outline of a tiny hoof.
Moss Rose Page 8