The Beauchamps’ red brick mansion rose immense and tall between oak trees whose trunks would have taken three men to girdle. Shanna stared in amazement, for it was one of the largest homes they had seen since landing. There were wings jutting out on either side, and the main portion had a roof steep and dormered, bracketed with tall chimneys. As they neared the house, excited cries came from within, and in a moment the front door burst open, and a young woman hurried out onto the small portico.
“Mama! Here they come!”
A flood of people swarmed out at the urging, and as Ruark lifted Shanna down from Jezebel’s back, Nathanial descended the steps and came forward to take Shanna’s hand and lead her away from Ruark.
An older couple had come to stand on the lawn and beside them stood a tall, dark-haired woman and a younger boy whose grin nearly split his face.
“My father and mother,” Nathanial announced as he brought Shanna before the elders. “George and Amelia Beauchamp.”
Shanna sank into a respectful curtsy, and as she straightened, the older man smiled down at her, looking her over carefully through wire-rimmed spectacles. A handsome man he was, tall, lean, black of hair, and broad of shoulders, ready with a quick smile.
“So this is Shanna.” There was a note of firmness in the gentle drawl of his deep voice. He nodded in approval. “A pretty lass she is. Aye, we’ll claim her as a Beauchamp.”
The older woman, with brown eyes and gray-streaked auburn air, was more reserved and considered Shanna for a long, uncertain moment before she gave a quick, worried glance at her eldest son. As if with decision, she sighed and took the girl’s hand in both her own.
“Shanna. What a beautiful name.” She searched the sea-green eyes and finally managed a smile. “We’ve much to talk about, my dear.”
Shanna puzzled at the woman’s manner, but she had little time to muse upon it, for Nathanial drew the tall, dark-haired woman to his side.
“My wife, Charlotte, the vixen!” he grinned, slipping an arm about her narrow waist to hug her close. “You’ll meet our brood of children later.”
Charlotte laughed and extended her slender hands toward Shanna. “I fear the name Madam Beauchamp will draw too much attention here—or none as the case may be. May we call you Shanna?”
“Of course.” Shanna was completely taken with the easy friendliness of the woman and accepted the feeling as mutual as the slender fingers squeezed her own.
“Jeremiah Beauchamp.” Nathanial gestured to the grinning lad. “My youngest brother. At seven-and-ten, he’s only just now appreciating the fairer gender, so don’t mind if he gawks a bit. You’re the prettiest thing he’s seen in a long while.”
A dark blush stained the youth’s face but still the grin remained. Like his father, he was tall and reedy but bore the auburn hair and brown eyes of his mother.
“ ‘Tis a pleasure, Jeremiah,” Shanna murmured sweetly, offering her hand.
“And this is my sister, Gabrielle.” Nathanial gently chucked the chin of the girl who had rushed out, and she bobbed vivaciously. “You’ll meet her twin, Garland, later.”
“I think you’re just too beautiful for words,” Gabrielle exclaimed. “Have you really been to Paris? Garland said it must be an evil place. How do you manage to make your hair stay like that? Mine would be down around my shoulders by mid-morning.”
Shanna responded with gay laughter and spread her hands at the rush of questions.
“Gabrielle!” Amelia placed an affectionate arm about the girl. “Let Shanna at least catch her breath.”
“Our son has been remiss in his duties,” George said. “He should have brought you to us long ago.” His face took on a sparkle of humor. “Welcome to The Oaks, Shanna.”
Just then, the two mud-splattered and begrimed coaches careened into the lane and skidded to a stop before the manor. The steeds, sensing an end to the journey and smelling the pastures of home, had outdistanced the heavier wagon, which was nowhere in sight. Ruark threw down the steps of the first and opened the door. Trahern heaved himself from his seat and laboriously climbed down, as Nathanial came forward to greet him. Pitney had also descended and renewed his acquaintance when Sir Gaylord joined the group.
“Gaylord Billingsham,” he named himself and almost daintily extended his hand. “Knight of the realm and gentleman of the court. I sent you a letter some months ago when I learned Squire Trahern would be traveling here.”
“Aye, I remember,” Nathanial responded. “But ‘tis no time to speak of business. Let us see to the amenities.”
Guiding the gentlemen to his parents, Nathanial began the introductions. It was not felt by anyone but the knight when he was presented last, or at least nearly so, for Ralston was the only one who followed him.
The sun had touched the hilltop to the west, and the day was growing darker. It was the senior Madam Beauchamp who put an end to the conversations that were beginning on the lawn.
“Good sirs and ladies,” she chided. “ ‘Tis unseemly that we should take a chill when a fine, warm house is close at hand. Come.” She took her husband’s arm and caught Shanna’s with her other. “We shall have a table set after a while. The gentlemen would no doubt enjoy a libation before we eat, and I, for one, am cold.”
Amelia led them all within, and soon the men were enjoying well-aged brandy. A light sherry sparkled in Shanna’s glass, but she took care only to sip a tiny bit, for since Gaitlier’s wedding her stomach had formed a slight aversion to intoxicants. Her eyes smiled at Ruark, who had trailed along and stood watching from just inside the door.
Gabrielle sidled close to Nathanial and nudged him with her elbow then inclined her head toward Ruark. “Who’s that?”
“Oh, of course.” Nathanial seemed embarrassed for a moment. “This is—ah—John Ruark, another associate of Squire Trahern.”
“Oh, the bondslave!” Gabrielle spoke over her shoulder with childlike innocence. “Mama? Should he be in the house?”
Shanna held her breath in shock. Would the Beauchamps take offense? She had not even considered it.
Gaylord did not miss the exchange. “A bright young lass, quick to grasp the nuances of class. She would go far at court.”
He caught Shanna’s cold glare but smirked at his own cleverness.
“Hush, Gabrielle,” Amelia Beauchamp sternly commanded.
The young woman stared boldly at Ruark, who returned her regard with a frown that hinted of violent thoughts. Gabrielle’s voice came just loud enough to be heard as she spoke aside to Nathanial.
“How could anyone be so witless as to let themselves be sold for money?”
Gaylord was, as usual, ready with an explanation. “A lower class of people, young lady, unable to handle the simplest affairs of life.”
Tense silence greeted his observation before the eldest Madam Beauchamp reproached her offspring.
“Gabrielle! Hush your prattle! Mister Ruark cannot help what he is.”
Gabrielle wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Well, anyway, I wouldn’t want a bondsman for my husband.”
“Gabby!” George Beauchamp spoke softly but with such a tone as to brook no disobedience. “Mind your mother. ‘Tis not Christian to bait the less fortunate.”
“Yes, father,” Gabrielle meekly complied.
Shanna caught a glimpse of Pitney laughing into his cup and mused in sudden rancor, “For an uncle he’s not too bright. He has sipped himself into a stupor with his jug of ale and guffaws like a mindless idiot while they poke fun at Ruark.”
But when she glanced at her husband, Shanna grew puzzled, for he seemed relaxed and not at all angry as his gaze followed the young woman, Gabby. Indeed, there was something akin to pleasure in his face until Gabrielle turned and, catching his attention on her, flashed him a smile of pure innocence. His eyes narrowed threateningly.
Setting her glass aside, Shanna found Gabrielle’s deep brown eyes upon her and wondered at the sudden worried frown that marked the young woman’s brow.
“ ‘Tis no room there,” Amelia snapped. As her husband dropped an arm about her shoulders, she continued in a softer tone, “He can stay in the house.”
“As I’ve said before, the chap is fond of horses.” Leisurely the knight took a pinch of snuff. “Let him make his bed with them.”
“I’ll not—” Amelia began in a burst of heated ire, but Ruark interrupted.
“I beg your pardon, madam, but I’d just as soon sleep there, if you have no objection.” He leaned back against the door frame and folded his arms as Gaylord glared at him.
Suddenly Shanna felt a strong desire to confront them all with the truth. It nearly burst from her lips as she rose trembling from her chair. She ached to defend her love and her marriage to this bondsman. The only thing that stilled her words was the fear that Gaylord would rush to his magistrate father to bear the news that a man he had condemned to hang was alive. She placed an unsteady hand to her brow.
“Madam Beauchamp, could I lie down for a moment before dinner? I fear the ride exhausted me more than I realized.”
Trahern lowered his glasses, concern obviously written in his countenance. Like a vivacious child, Shanna had always seemed to possess inexhaustible energies. Here, as well, he’d have to readjust his thinking.
Ruark shared his worry and stepped toward Shanna anxiously but abruptly found himself facing Charlotte’s back as she moved into his path. Amelia Beauchamp went to Shanna’s side and took her arm.
“Of course, child,” she soothed. “It has been a long, tiring trip for you. Perhaps you would like to freshen up as well.”
As she passed the bondslave, Amelia paused. “Mister Ruark, would you carry the lady’s cases upstairs? I believe the wagon has arrived.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied respectfully and took his leave.
The stairs led straight up against the wall of the entrance hall, and as Mrs. Beauchamp escorted Shanna up, her dark taffeta gown swishing with her every movement, Ruark came into the house again, carrying a small sea chest on his shoulder and another case beneath his arm. Without a word he mounted the steps behind them and followed on into the bedchamber at the back comer of the house. A fire danced brightly on the hearth like spirited red and gold elves frolicking on a log. There was a warm cheeriness and mannish comfort about the room. A soft, dark Oriental carpet cushioned the feet, and chairs of leather and wood sat about the room. A massive four-poster was spread with a heavy velvet coverlet of a rust hue, and the same material draped the windows.
“This is my son’s room when he’s home,” Mrs. Beauchamp explained, lighting the tapers in a candelabrum. “I didn’t think you would mind using this, as all the other guest rooms will be taken. It does lack something of a women’s touch, I suppose.”
“It’s fine,” Shanna murmured. Her eyes met Ruark’s inquiring gaze as he set her cases down. She flushed and folded her hands in embarrassment as she realized the woman had turned and stood watching them.
“My large trunk. Did you see it, Mister Ruark?” she managed.
“Aye, I’ll go down and get it now.”
“Have David help you bring it up, Mister Ruark,” Amelia suggested.
The door closed behind him, and the elder woman bent to fold down the bedcovers.
“I sent your girl Hergus to bed with a tray. Poor woman, she seemed to have suffered greatly from the ride.”
No doubt, with Gaylord and Ralston sharing the coach, Shanna mused. Aloud she voiced, “She’s never taken well to traveling.”
Idly Shanna thumbed through a leather-bound book on the writing desk which stood beside the back window and then raised a questioning gaze to Mrs. Beauchamp, realizing there was not a single word in it that she could understand.
“Greek. ‘Tis my son’s,” the woman replied, fluffing a pillow. “He was always reading and doing, even as a young lad.”
There was a soft rap on the door, and it was opened to admit Ruark and the tall, rather elderly man in spotless servant’s attire who had let them into the house. Between the two of them, they managed to get Shanna’s huge trunk to the foot of the bed. Even Ruark was panting as he straightened, and he paused to catch his breath, his eyes sparkling at Shanna with silent jest, before he followed David out the door.
Amelia directed her attention back to Shanna, who still stared at the closed portal. “I’ll help you with your gown, child. Would you like a tray to be sent up?”
“Oh, no. I’ll only rest for a while.”
Shanna presented her back to Amelia and stood quietly as the woman unlaced her gown. Stepping out of it, Shanna waited almost timidly in her light chemise as the woman put away the velvet dress.
“Can I fetch a nightgown for you?” the older woman offered kindly. At Shanna’s negative shake of the head, Amelia smiled and walked to the door. “I’ll leave you, then. Have a good rest.”
She opened the door then paused, gazing back over her shoulder at the young and beautiful woman.
“I think if a man can win your father’s approval as Mister Ruark has apparently done, then he’s a man to handle himself whatever’s given to him. I wouldn’t worry, child.”
When she left, Shanna slowly sank onto the edge of the bed where she stayed for a very long time. She hadn’t realized her emotions were so apparent that they could be read without flaw. And if they were readily visible to Mrs. Beauchamp, then Orlan Trahern might soon recognize that his daughter was in love with his bondsman.
The sound of a door slamming somewhere in the house brought Shanna wide awake. She lay across the bed, still in her shift, but now a fluffy comforter was spread over her. A small clock on the mantel indicated it was half-past eight.
Shanna sat up with a start. She had only meant to rest for a few moments, but hours had gone past instead. They could not have waited dinner for her this late, and she was suddenly aware that she was intensely hungry. Nearly ten hours had passed since she had eaten and no sight of a tray. But then, she had told Mrs. Beauchamp she would be down.
Finding a heavy velvet dressing robe in her case, she slipped into it, fastening it high at her throat. Even if she had to go to the stables to fetch Ruark to help her, she was going to find something to eat. Never in her life had she known such a plaguing hunger.
“It must be because of the babe.” She smiled in wonder, realizing the change in her body, and her spirits soared. Suddenly she was impatient to hold a wee nestling form close in her arms. Lass or lad, it mattered naught. It seemed in that moment she could have loved every baby in the world. What a difference a year had made in her thoughts, for then she had, worried for fear she was with child by Ruark. An innocent she had been to believe there was even a chance. He was a bold man to have taken her virginity in the coach. But then, it had taken a bold man to win her respect—and her love.
Restraining her lighthearted step, Shanna went carefully down the stairs. All was quiet within the dinning room and parlor. Only a dim lantern burned there. But voices came from the back of the house. Servants, perhaps? Would they fetch her food? It was a chance worth taking.
Down the hall, through a smaller dining room, she went quietly, following the sound of voices. Then the aroma of food hit her, and she forgot everything else. She set her hand to push open the door. This had to be the kitchen, and the fact that it was attached to the house seemed not unusual in this frigid clime. A burst of laughter greeted her as she swung open the door, and she saw Nathanial guffawing beside his father, who wore a wry smile.
“Shanna!” Charlotte’s voice came from beside her, and Shanna turned to see the woman standing with Amelia and Jeremiah. At the table Gabrielle rose to her feet in some surprise, and the men’s humor fled as they stared, too.
&nb
sp; “I’m sorry,” Shanna murmured, half embarrassed, realizing there was only family here. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”
She started to leave when Amelia raised her hand.
“Wait, child. Come in,” she beckoned and turned to her daughter. “Gabrielle, fetch her the plate.”
“But, mama—”
“Never mind. Do as I say. Hurry with you. Can’t you see the poor girl is hungry?”
“I’m not dressed,” Shanna smiled lamely. “I’d better go back.”
“Nonsense. We kept a plate warm for you. Come sit yourself down,” Charlotte urged, sliding back a chair.
A whistling came from outside the house, and the back door burst open to admit Ruark with a load of wood in his arms. Seeing Shanna, he stopped then glanced around at the expectant faces.
“Well, set the wood down, boy,” George directed after a tense moment of silence. He gestured to the wood box. “You did say you were hungry, didn’t you?”
“Aye, sir,” came the reply, and Ruark deposited his load, catching Shanna’s confused glance. “ ‘Twas the least I could do to repay these good people for supper.”
“Hmph!” Amelia raised her eyebrow sharply, and Jeremiah hastened forward, rubbing his hands nervously on his breeches.
“Mister Ruark, how would you like to go hunting along the ridge tomorrow? I saw some big tracks up there. Early in the morning, if you can manage it.”
“I’ll have to ask the squire,” Ruark replied, tossing a couple of logs onto the fire and giving Shanna a glance askance.
More worried about her own intrusion, Shanna took the seat Charlotte had offered and folded her hands self-consciously. Gabrielle rushed to set a heaping plate before her and hurried back to the hearth to slip another one from the brick oven.
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