Moss Rose

by Scottie Barrett

  "Miss high and mighty Trent was there, too. Shrieking like a banshee." Celia had to pause and giggle at her own catty remark. "When Levi and Matthias wouldn't listen to her, she started smacking poor Thomas something fierce with her dainty, little hand. She said, 'Thomas, you fool, stop them this instant, or I'll have you whipped'. And Thomas just shot her the darkest, ugliest look you've ever seen."

  Jensen wondered briefly if Levi's sudden rage with her in the cellar had sparked the fight but then dismissed the notion as ridiculous. "I imagine Matthias was a bit outmatched," she said in understatement.

  Celia nodded her head in agreement. "Actually, they both survived. Just plumb tired themselves out. Matthias just dropped to the ground, moaning. Levi was able to move, but just barely. I thought maybe he'd let Miss Trent come soothe him, but he shook her off. Didn't even seem to see her."

  After tugging the brush through Jensen's hair, Celia grabbed hold of her hand and pulled her out the door.

  "Come Jens, let's see what all the excitement is about."

  They opened the heavy door and found what seemed like the entire population of Moss Rose crowding the marble veranda and stairway. No one seemed to know why they had been assembled. They all stood expectantly.

  Jensen pushed her way through the crowd and stood on tiptoe so that she could see over shoulders. The plantation seemed undisturbed in the gray morning light, though a horse and rider could be seen galloping hard toward the manor, kicking up clouds of dust. The rider pulled the horse up short and dismounted. Jensen could make out little but Levi's dark head.

  "I've called you all here," he addressed them in a booming voice, "to let you know that I'm leaving today to meet up with the Virginia militia and British army. They are hoping to capture Fort Duquesne from the French, and I feel compelled to provide what services I might. In my absence, my brother will be in charge of the plantation."

  Jensen scanned the crowd but could not find Matthias.

  "Of course, I want you to show him the same cooperation you have always shown me," he continued, his deep voice resonating. "Although, some of you show him more cooperation than is necessary." Jensen seemed sure his steely eyes were focused on her when he made that curious comment. "That is all," he said, dismissing the stunned crowd.

  "Jensen, I need to speak to you."

  Some of the servants prodded her forward and nearly propelled her bodily down the steps.

  "Please, the rest of you go attend to your duties," he said to those still lingering. They left reluctantly, protesting in murmured tones.

  Jensen put her hands to her mouth, stifling a cry as she got a good look at him. One eye was sealed shut and already coloring in violent shades of black and blue. His bottom lip was bisected by a deep gash that was sealed thickly with dried blood. The right side of his jaw was marked with a long, ugly scrape.

  "Your poor face," she cried.

  He repelled her outstretched hand with his. "I would appreciate it if you would not fawn over me like one of your dumb animals," he said testily, regarding her with his one good eye. "I have some business I need to discuss with you before I leave."

  He slapped the reins on the flat of his hand. She had the uneasy feeling that he would have liked to slap her a bit with those same reins.

  There was a vicious track of scratches on his throat that Jensen couldn't peel her eyes from. He fingered them with a wry smile.

  "Miss Trent was not pleased with my decision to join up. It seems of late that I have a great knack for getting people to hate me."

  Jensen shrugged, dropped her gaze, and poked at a loose cobblestone with the toe of her ankle boot. He waved a folded piece of paper beneath her nose.

  She gasped as she took it from him. "You sold me!" she exclaimed in horror. Huge tears spilled onto her cheeks. She swiped them away with her shawl, but they kept coming.

  Snatching the paper from her, he quickly unfolded the parchment and held it up for her inspection. "It's your contract of indenture. As you can see on the bottom, I've signed off, freeing you from service."

  Jensen regarded the paper in disbelief.

  "Mr. Melford, my solicitor in Williamsburg, has located your aunt. Maggie has all the information. You're free to leave Moss Rose anytime you wish."

  Instead of the lightness she'd been expecting to feel, an unbearable sadness settled in her heart.

  "Christ, why are you still crying? This is what you wanted, isn't it?"

  She nodded her head, feeling incapable of uttering anything coherent. Her tears splattered onto the creamy parchment.

  He tried to hand her his handkerchief, but she waved it away and continued to try to staunch the flow of tears with her shawl.

  At what Jensen considered to be a completely inappropriate moment, his gaze lowered brazenly to her breasts.

  "What about the horses? Two of the mares may well be with foal. And Thomas is too busy to exercise Freedom properly. Mayhap I could . . . ." She put her hands on her hips. "Mr. North, how am I to have a serious conversation with you when you insist on staring at my--my bodice?"

  "Where is it?"

  Her hand flew to her neckline. Had she lost a button or forgotten to fasten the lacings? No, everything was as it should be. "I think, mayhap, you took a few too many blows to the head. Where is what?"

  His long, black lashes fluttered up, and his good eye was like cold flint. "The necklace you were wearing yesterday?"

  She wondered if the man was completely daft. "You're off to fight a bloody war, and you're worried about a worthless trinket?" She paused for a second. "Oh, you think I stole it, don't you? I assure you, I did not."

  "I know exactly how you got it." His lips pulled into a surly smile. "That's why it's best you leave Moss Rose at once."

  She stared speechless at him for a moment, unable to bear the coldness of his words. His horse whickered loudly, answering a high-pitched whinny from the stables.

  "The sooner I get away from this blasted plantation, the better," she replied in a voice strangled with tears.

  From the balcony, Andrea, her patience at an end and her composure completely shattered, rained curses down on his head.

  Levi did not look up. Donning his tricorne, he turned back to his horse. Jensen felt numb as she watched him secure the girth-straps, the muscles of his broad shoulders straining against the fabric of the fitted jacket.

  Realizing he was quite finished with her, Jensen began heading toward the stables. Thinking it would be the last time she'd see him, her pulse took up an erratic beat. Bad enough, he knew her to be a liar, now he believed her to be a thief as well. Stopping in her tracks, she turned around just as he was putting his foot into the iron.

  "I'll be sure to return the necklace to Celia before I leave."

  Her words caused him to freeze, his foot suspended in the stirrup. A little worried, she backed up a few steps. As he began stalking toward her, she turned and bolted.

  Seizing her wrist, he spun her around and before she could get her bearings, he was dragging her in the direction of the outbuildings. She was panting when he finally forced her back against the ash-blackened wall of the smokehouse.

  "You mean to tell me that the necklace belongs to Celia?"

  "To be sure. Celia lent it to me." His hands were on either side of her body, effectively trapping her. The heat of him made her dizzy. "What is it about that blasted necklace that has you in such a lather?"

  "It is given as a reward by my brother for services rendered," he said through clenched teeth.

  "Oh . . . Ohhh! So naturally you assumed that I'd had a tryst with your brother."

  He shrugged in a boyish manner and had the audacity to look devastatingly appealing as he did so, even with all his cuts and bruises. Perceiving that her attitude was softening toward him, he doffed his hat, tossed it to the ground, and leaned in to kiss her.

  Her hands pressed against his chest. "So naturally, you assume, I want you to kiss me."

  "Well, naturally," he replied w
ith complete arrogance. "Unfortunately, I only have one good lip."

  "'Tis a shame," she said callously. She offered her hand to him. "Why don't we just say goodbye this way."

  "What do you mean, goodbye?" he asked, sounding genuinely surprised.

  "You're leaving, and I'm leaving, and that's a situation which usually calls for a goodbye."

  "Stop being so damn formal, woman, and promise me you'll stay and wait for me."

  "Why, in God's name, would I?"

  "If memory serves," he drawled, "you nearly gave yourself to me yesterday in the cellar. Seems to me--"

  "'Tis exactly the incident in the cellar that makes me eager to leave. You are a might possessive."

  "Only when it comes to you, Duff."

  His words sent a shiver of goosebumps up her neck. Her gaze dropped to his silver gorget, the medallion that proclaimed him an officer of the Virginia militia.

  "My aunt needs me. I can't possibly stay." She wondered whom she was really trying to convince. "Besides, I have no future here."

  "I could arrange a future for you." He pulled her hard against his body. She could feel the hilt of his saber pressing into her ribs. Her fingers clutched at his fawn-colored vest.

  Before she could utter another protest, he lowered his head. With his tongue, he traced the curves of her ear, the line of her jaw, and the pink of her lips. The drugging heat of his mouth on her made her knees weak and her whole body tremble. She had to admit that for all his rough edges, the man had a certain finesse. She doubted that she would remain standing, if he were to let go of her now.

  A slow, sensuous smile curled his lips as he bent his head further and set to nibbling a heart-stopping trail up her throat.

  His gleaming black head raised. "Jensen, look at me." She was completely unhinged.

  Wrapping his hands around her waist, he lifted her until she was eye to eye with him. She braced her hands atop his broad shoulders. "I won't be worth a damn on the battlefield if I'm worried about you. Distracted soldiers rarely make it home."

  "Oh! That is beyond anything. You give me my freedom and then hold this over my head."

  He gave her a whatever-it-takes smile. "Promise to stay, or I'll take you with me." His eyes held a soul-shattering caress.

  She was lost. "I'll stay," she promised.

  "Good," he said and smiled with supreme satisfaction. He set her on her feet, leading her back to where his horse waited.

  "Why are you not taking Archer?" she asked.

  "Can you imagine that high-strung steed of mine in the middle of musket fire?"

  There was a chance he may never return to Moss Rose. She smiled weakly, feeling as though another chip had been chiseled from her heart.

  With the tips of his fingers, he pushed her chin up a little roughly. "Now don't get into any trouble while I'm gone." She gave him a forlorn little nod. "And, not that I don't take your promises to heart, but just in case you're not here upon my return, know that I will come after you."

  Somehow, that was the most inviting threat she'd ever heard.

  The door of the manor slammed hard. "Mr. North, Mr. North," Celia shouted as she skidded down the steps. "Miss Trent is fit to be tied. She's ruined the feather bed and broken every glass knickknack in the guest room."

  Levi regarded her absently. "Maggie can handle her," he said with assurance as he hoisted himself onto the horse, flinching with pain as he shifted in the saddle "And Celia, tell Maggie Jensen will be staying on as a guest."

  Celia's mouth dropped to her chest. "As you wish, sir," she finally managed to spit out, but he was already well down the path.

  Suddenly feeling very alone, Jensen ran toward the stables, her vision blurred by tears. The toe of her boot caught on a large stone, sending her face first toward the solid earth. Her hands flew out, her thin wrists absorbing much of the impact. And yet, she still managed to scrape several layers of skin from her forehead and chin. She spat the grit from her mouth. Rubbing a dirt-covered palm through her tears, she scrambled to her feet. Thin trickles of blood from her forehead mixed with the tears, making tracks down her cheeks.

  Why was the man playing with her heart? The question nagged at her.

  At the stables, she headed straight for Archer. Sobbing hard, she grabbed a saddle and heaved it onto the horse's back. She ducked her head under the stable doorway as the stallion thundered into the surrounding paddock like a raging bull. She took off toward the fields, coaxing the horse into a frenzied gallop, the heat of the day bearing down on them.

  Exhausted and numb, Jensen slowed the horse to a trot and plodded toward the riverbank. She walked into the water fully clothed, immersing herself to the top of her head. The icy water sent a shock through her body. Shooting up through the rippling surface of the river she gasped for air.

  An unnatural calmness washed over her as she stumbled up on to the grassy knoll. Lying back, she let the heat of the Virginia sun soak through her body as she inhaled the dank, musty smells of reeds and moss. Stay and wait for him, the very thought. She'd come to Virginia for the sole purpose of helping her aunt. She refused to let Levi North decide her future--even if she had lost her heart to him.

  Sitting up, she spotted a large, brown feather wedged beneath the heel of her boot. She picked it up and rubbed it lightly under her chin, enjoying its slippery smoothness. Holding it up, she examined it more closely. Naturally, it would have to be a hawk feather, she thought, and suddenly she felt a dull ache in the pit of her stomach. Maybe she would stay. After all, she did promise him . . . .

  Chapter 21

  Jensen woke in her bed still wearing the damp, mud-stained clothes. She could hardly remember returning to her room. At least the sleep had alleviated her agonizing headache, the result of her childish sobbing. Drowsily, she changed into dry clothes, feeling weak from the ride and lack of food. She splashed water from the ewer over her scraped and battered face. A quick comb through her hair, and she was ready to face Maggie. She found her in Levi's study going over the week's menus, a cup of steaming tea by her arm.

  "Miss Marlowe," Maggie addressed her haughtily. "Mr. North has left instructions that you are to stay on." She raised her eyebrows in a most disapproving manner.

  Her head shook in dismay as she rifled through the papers on the top of the desk. "He's always been pigheaded. 'Why can't you be more like your brother?,' I'd say. 'Stay indoors, learn your lessons, behave like a gentleman.' My scolding was for naught. If the tutor would turn his back for just a moment, Master Levi would be gone to find Malaton. Those two hellions ran wild through the plantation forests. Climbing, hunting, building forts. There were times I couldn't tell them apart, with their long, unkempt hair, buckskin breeches, and their skin browned dark by the sun." She shook her head in irritation, but her eyes betrayed her fondness for Levi.

  "They were lads--just so high," she said, holding her hand level, a mere foot above the desktop, "when they fashioned some crude hatchets. Malaton's father drew a circle on the large oak and had them aim for it. They were always practicing. It was so that you didn't go near the tree for fear you might lose your head."

  She sweetened her tea with some honey and paused to sip it, never thinking to offer Jensen a cup. "It's a wonder he ever made it to a university," she mused quietly, as though speaking only to herself.

  Jensen cleared her throat discreetly, and with a frown Maggie refocused her attention on the duty at hand.

  She slapped a letter down in front of Jensen. "Here it is, Miss Marlowe." Her mouth puckered sourly, as she addressed Jensen with uncommon formality. "A letter from Mr. Melford, concerning your aunt's whereabouts."

  Jensen's expression must have mirrored her confusion.

  "Of course, if the master wants you to stay--that's his own business," Maggie said with little conviction. "Merely wanted you to have the information on the off chance you might change your mind."

  She was about as subtle as a stampede of cattle, Jensen thought wryly. Taking the letter, Jensen
folded it and stuffed it into her pinafore pocket alongside her contract of indenture.

  "It's best you don't get your hopes up, lass." Her eyes held a hint of pity that made Jensen's stomach lurch. "Mr. North is meant to marry Andrea Trent. He would never go against his father's wishes."

  The word mistress drummed a persistent beat in Jensen's mind as she walked down the corridor. From the parlor, Regina's jarring voice stopped her cold. "Matthias, don't be such a fool. What could she possibly do with her freedom? She's a penniless wretch."

  "Levi wants her to stay here at Moss Rose," Matthias responded in measured tones.

  "He what? I won't have it. Mr. Williams is prepared to offer us a great deal of money for her servitude. It would be simply ludicrous to deny his offer."

  "How on earth would you know what Mr. Williams was willing to offer? What are you up to, Regina?"

  A long moment of silence ensued, and Jensen took a quick peek into the parlor. Stunned, she watched as Matthias brought his fist down hard on the table, sending the sound of vibrating glass echoing from the vast parlor. She ducked back into the hallway, but she couldn't pull herself away from eavesdropping.

  "I will not go against Levi on this, Regina, and I do not want to hear another word about it!" Matthias shouted. "Blast it, Regina! See what you've done, I've reopened the cut on my knuckles."

  Regina must have been taken aback by the forcefulness of his tone, because for once, she had no retort.

  The woman's machinations to sell her were all Jensen needed to hear. Staying at Moss Rose was no longer an option. She would find a time to talk to Matthias in one of those rare moments when Regina was not pasted to his side.

  The opportunity presented itself sooner than expected. Only minutes later, Matthias stood outside her door, his face marked by tender-looking bruises, his bottom lip painfully enlarged. Jensen wondered again what had enraged Levi to such a degree that he would hurt his own brother.

  Jensen smiled demurely and looked down toward her feet. "Excuse me for staring. Does it hurt much?" she asked with concern.