Captives' Charade

by Susannah Merrill

  Sarahwincedandsighedwearily.“Idonot need the physician for a few bruises, Mother. I wish everyone would not get so hysterical. It is nothing, really. I have fallen from a horse before.”

  “Not since you were learning to ride,” her mother countered as she untied the stock at Sarah’s throat. “You are an impeccable horsewoman, Sarah. I just do not understand how it could have happened. Was Serena frightened?”

  Sarah was most unwilling to rehash the events of her encounter with Stewart. Masking her pain, she rose slowly from the bed before her mother had a chance to help her finish undressing. “I-I do not remember. Mother, really,” she implored, moving toward the tub. “I am all right now. Just leave me to my bath. I promise I will rest afterward.”

  “Very well, dear,” her mother replied uncertainly, and then suddenly remembering, added, “Where is your sister – and Jack? What happened to them?”

  “Oh, they rode to the Gables. I did not wish to go and Mr. Chamberlain said he had letters to post so he offered to return with me. I suppose they will be along soon enough.”

  “All right, darling,” the Duchess said, opening the bedroom door. “Please ring for Tegan if you need anything. I will return later to see how you are feeling. Come on, girls,” she called to the serving maids, “let us leave Lady Sarah to her bath.”

  After everyone had left, Sarah painfully removed the rest of her clothes and went to her mirror to survey the damage. She was startled by the ugly bluish purple flesh below her left breast. Turning slowly, she moaned aloud at the sight of her discolored left hip. Her leg and arm were also blemished by angry bruises, guaranteeing a slow recovery.

  “And it is all his fault,” she whispered petulantly as she moved to enter the steaming tub, delicately scented with lavender to cover up the vinegar used to treat bruises. But as she sat soaking in the delicious feel of the hot water easing her pains, it was surprisingly pleasant thoughts that crowded her mind. She instead found herself reliving the feel of his gentle hands on her body and the indescribable sensations his closeness had aroused.

  But it is wrong for him to force his attentions on me while he seduces my sister as well, she argued to herself. But somehow that fact could not dissuade her from the realization that Stewart Chamberlain was the first man to have appealed to her – and the first man to have evoked a woman’s response.

  With a horrified start, she realized how sensuously she had been enjoying the warm water’s quiet lapping against her swollen breasts as she thought of Stewart’s lazy, knowing eyes just before his passionate kisses had overtaken her. “He haunts me!” she cried, smacking her hands against the water, causing droplets to splash about.

  Wiping her face with her shaking hands, she knew she had to figure out a way to handle Stewart Chamberlain – or avoid him. And since handling him had been most unsuccessful, she quickly decided that avoiding him was the answer.

  Finishing her bath and moving slowly from the tub, she reached for a bath sheet and carefully patted herself dry – more afraid of touching her strangely sensitive body than her painful bruises. Determined to do anything to keep from being near him again, she took heart in her own strength of will and smiled hopefully as she donned a light chemise and a warm, rose-colored dressing gown.

  Pulling the pins from her glossy brown hair, she let if fall to her waist and gingerly climbed onto the huge bed. She carefully laid down on her right side and pulled a warm woolen throw up over her shoulders. I am safe here in my own home, and he is not smarter than I – only more experienced and used to having his way. He will not find it so easy to kiss me again, she told herself drowsily. Her own words gave her confidence and she found herself drifting easily into sleep.

  CHAPTER 6

  WhenSarahawoke,shefoundherself immediately alert and aching with hunger. Her bedroom was pitch dark, however, and she realized that she had slept through the entire evening. She vaguely recalled being awakened by Juliana, who had heard of her mishap and seemed to think the entire episode was an amusing diversion to their otherwise uneventful lives.

  Carefully she rose from the soft bed, gingerly stretching her wounded body under the dressing gown. I simply must have food, she thought to herself, feeling reasonably well and not a bit sleepy. But the ornate brass clock on her bureau showed that it was late and she knew that most of the servants had retired for the evening. She decided to find something for herself and put on a pair of kid mules as she ran a brush through her tangled locks.

  Quietly leaving her room, only slightly favoring her injured side, she made her way down the darkened hall to the back stairs that led to the kitchen. Opening the door at the bottom of the stairs, she was surprised to find the huge and usually inviting kitchen so chilled. The fires were banked; it appeared her hopes for a meal were in vain. It was then that she spied a bowl of apples on one of the wide counters and hungrily snatched one.

  Resigned to the cold appetizer, she was about to leave when the door to the servants’ quarters opened and a small form entered the room.

  “LadySarah!”asurprisedvoicewhispered. “What are you doing here?” Sarah whirled in surprise and sighed with relief as her eyes rested on the flowing red hair and petite form of Tegan.

  “Oh Tegan,” she gasped. “You startled me!” Tegan, dressed in a plain brown house coat, returned quickly, “I startled you? I thought I was seeing a ghost. What are you doing in here at this hour?”

  “I was hungry,” Sarah replied simply, taking another bite out of her apple, “and so far, this is all I have found to eat.”

  “You poor thing,” Tegan chuckled sympathetically. “You haven’t eaten all day, have you? ‘Tis a good thing I came looking for tallows. I’ll fix you something straight away,” she said, bustling into action. “The family had a lovely roast for dinner and there’s plenty left over. Would you care for bread as well?”

  As she set about making a plate of food, Sarah sat on a stool next to the great preparation surface in the middle of the room. “I don’t know how I could have slept so long on an empty stomach,” she said offhandedly, glad of Tegan’s company.

  “Well, I’m not surprised in the least,” Tegan replied briskly, “after hearing about your horrible accident. Why, according to Mr. Chamberlain, it was a miracle you didn’t break your neck!”

  Immediately Sarah was on guard. Just the sound of his name made her heart beat faster. “Now, Tegan,” she said, carefully keeping her voice light, “how do you know what Mr. Chamberlain said?”

  “Come now, mum,” Tegan answered matterof-factly, “I hardly have to tell you that these walls have ears.”

  “Well then,” Sarah replied, munching daintily on her apple, “you may as well fill me in on all I’ve missed today.”

  As she uncovered the leftover roast and began slicing, Tegan went on. “Your mother was quite distressed and begged your father to call the doctor. But Mr. Chamberlain – he’s such a commanding figure, isn’t he?” Her brown eyes twinkled. “He told them he was quite sure you’d not suffered serious injury and that rest was the best thing for you. He assured your mother that if he should be mistaken, he’d ride for the doctor himself.”

  “And what of Lady Juliana and Lord Harrington?” Sarah asked, unaccountably gratified by Stewart’s show of gallantry.

  “They returned much later, looking quite pleased with themselves, if you know what I mean,” Tegan said, winking. “But they were shocked to hear of your mishap. Lady Juliana wanted to see you right away, but Mr. Chamberlain said sleep would do you more good than her sympathies. The viscount, of course, was deeply distressed, but Mr. Chamberlain assured him that you were soon to be good as new.”

  “Did Jack stay for dinner?” Sarah inquired. “No,”Teganansweredassheslicedbread and buttered it none too sparingly. “Her Ladyship whisked him out the door before the Duchess had a chance to ask him. Then,” she said confidentially, “and I only heard this, mind you, she chattered all through dinner about her marvelous day – hoping to make Mr. Chamberlain jealou
s, I’ll wager. But it’ll never work, you know ....”

  “Why do you say that?” Sarah asked, hoping her curiosity was not too obvious. Tegan laughed brightly as she finished arranging the tempting plate of food. “Oh Lady Sarah, you can’t tell me you haven’t noticed! Mr. Chamberlain has his preference and it is not your sister. Aye, and what a lucky one you are to catch his eye.”

  “I beg your pardon,” Sarah retorted, rising stiffly on the stool. Tegan went on as if she hadn’t noticed Sarah’s warning tone. “He’s an attractive blade and well-versed in the ways of pleasuring women, if I’m any judge at all. Rich as well, I’ve heard. ‘Tis enough to forgive him for being a Yankee, I’d say, if that’s what’s holding you back.”

  “Tegan!” Sarah retorted, abruptly pushing herself off the stool. “Hush! Anything you have to say in Mr. Chamberlain’s favor is of no concern to me, for I find nothing in him of interest – except ‘twere I to learn that his visit was cut short. I find him boorish and most unattractive – when I am forced to take note of him at all!”

  “Very well, mum,” Tegan replied, completely undaunted. “Would you like me to take this to your room?” she asked, holding up the tempting plate on a small silver tray.

  “No,” Sarah sighed, her outburst over, though her cheeks were pink. “I think I will eat in the library. I’ve a feeling I am going to need a book to finish out this night. I slept so long, I am wide awake.” When Tegan began to move toward the door, Sarah shook her head and took the tray from the maid. “Go to bed. I can carry this. Thank you.”

  “Very well,” Tegan replied brightly. “O ff with you, then. I’ll tidy up. See you in the morning. Pleasant dreams,” she called teasingly as Sarah shot her servant a scathing look.

  “She is such a romantic,” Sarah thought of her sweet maid as she slowly and carefully walked down the darkly lit hall to the library, “that she looks for evidence of love in bloom in every occurrence that takes place in this house.” Shaking her shining dark head as if to dismiss the train of her thoughts, she quietly entered the library and was glad to see that a fire still burned welcomingly in the hearth before the settee.

  After she put her tray down on the table next to the settee, she took a straw from the hearth and used the fire to light it. Turning around to illuminate an oil lamp next to the settee, her free hand flew to her mouth as she muffled a terrified scream. She was not alone!

  “A thousand pardons if I have frightened you,” the easy voice of Stewart Chamberlain spoke as he rose from the dark leather tufted chair tucked into the shadows of the library.

  “My god!” Sarah gasped, trembling uncontrollably. “I-I had no idea anyone was here!” Unbidden tears of shock and relief rose in her eyes. “For an instant I thought you were an intruder.” Struggling to calm down after the fright he’d caused, Sarah added, hoping to lighten the moment, “Now it seems I’ve you to blame for my first gray hairs.”

  Stewart chuckled as he advanced toward her. Sarah unconsciously took a step backward, the straw still lit in her shaking fingers. “Here,” he said. “Allow me.” Taking the torch, he turned and lit the lamp for her and a soft light began to chase the shadows away. “Please,” he offered, as though he were the host, “sit down. I’ve no wish to prevent you from enjoying your repast. You must be famished.”

  “Yes, quite,” she replied truthfully yet breathlessly as she moved past him to sink slowly into the far corner of the settee. Suddenly aware that she was clothed only in her chemise and robe, she pulled the material around her legs and asked uninvitingly, “I suppose you plan to keep me company now?”

  “Why thank you. I’d be delighted,” he replied, settling his lean form in the chair beside her. She immediately noticed how the firelight illuminated his twinkling eyes and long, dark lashes. He was dressed in a dark coat, closely tailored, and his ruffled shirt was unbuttoned as was the top of his matching vest, exposing a peak of his sunbrowned, muscular chest.

  “I am truly sorry if I shocked you,” he said, crossing his long legs encased in tight trousers. “I was looking through your father’s books for one to take to bed. The gentle – though enjoyable – pace of my visit here is one I am unaccustomed to and I find it difficult to sleep.”

  Finding his tone of voice hospitable and lacking any unseemly Sarah relaxed slightly and began picking daintily at her food. “I too find that reading is an excellent potion for sleeplessness. I am grateful that my father encouraged me to read as much as I wished.” genuinely innuendo,

  “Your father is a wise man,” Stewart nodded, “for I’ve yet to find a soul that reading has harmed. I think you would find America to your liking, since the practice of encouraging young ladies to read is becoming commonplace. I, for one, applaud the trend.”

  Turning slightly to study her more closely, he asked, “Tell me, Sarah, are you feeling better?” Casting her azure eyes down to the plate on her lap, she answered lightly, “Yes, much, though I doubt I’ll be able to ride for a few days.”

  “You took quite a fall you know. I hope you will not hold it against me for too long, for I would not wish us to part adversaries,” he said gently.

  Sarah shifted nervously on the couch, avoiding his deep gaze. “I do not see why it matters so much what my feelings are toward you. I am sure you have plenty of female acquaintances who find your attentions pleasing. One more or less should make no difference, I would think.”

  Stewart laughed softly, “Ah, but rarely do I meet a woman of your captivating beauty who is intelligent as well. I think we could enjoy each other’s company were you to give yourself a chance.”

  “FromwhatIhaveobserved,”Sarahreplied haughtily, “you are too little interested in my companionship. You seem more eager to wrench unwilling kisses from me and in case it is not clear to you, I find such behavior arrogant and abusive.”

  “How long do you hope to deny yourself the pleasures of your own needs, Lady Sarah?” Stewart asked, his words touching her like an intimate caress. “You may not have approved of my boldness, but you must admit you found enjoyment in my arms, for your own response was warm.”

  “Icannotbelievemyownears!”Sarah squeaked. “Have you no sense of decency? We can neither be talking about – nor doing – what you so boldly and knavishly suggest. And where is your pride? Why do you even bother me, when I have told you quite clearly that I do not care for you in the least?”

  Stewart seemed unperturbed by her remarks as he responded easily, stretching his long legs before him. “Let me tell you something, Sarah. I learned early in life that a man who is a good judge of character can greatly economize his time and efforts, thereby saving his energies for that which is most important to him. I find you most intriguing, for your dark beauty suits my tastes. You are also quick-witted and lacking in coyness, which I admire in any woman. But all your assets would not have maintained my interest save for one ingredient I deem essential.” He paused and Sarah knew she would die of curiosity before she would ask him to continue.

  “That quality,” he said finally, “is passion -a true fire that causes a woman to respond in the way nature intended.” His mesmerizing voice suddenly turned matter-of-fact. “Perhaps now you can see why I was forward. I wanted to know if you possessed that passion, Sarah, and now that I know you do, I can be more leisurely in my efforts to have you, for I know you will be worth the effort.”

  Sarah was plainly appalled. Here was this man, a foreigner, a guest in the Duke of Weston’s home, telling her in the same tone of voice he would use to read aloud from a newspaper, that he was planning to bed her. Far from an expression of desire, it was a statement of fact, as if he were some sort of fortune teller who could accurately predict their future.

  Why,heevenlookedlikesomesortof demon sitting there against the shadows cast by the flickering firelight, his dark hair rimmed in a golden glow, his brown eyes dancing with fiery flecks. The handsome cut of his nose and chin was chiseled by the blaze, causing his casual grin to appear menacing.

  Fr
ightened by his ominous yet strangely attractive countenance and his overpowering selfconfidence, Sarah was at a complete loss for words. Never had she encountered a member of the opposite sex so blatant in his desire for her. And she was of such limited experience that there was nothing she could summon to help her now. Her earlier decision to avoid him had already proved unsuccessful, for here she was, trapped in his lair again.

  And then it suddenly dawned on her: Stewart Chamberlain appeared to be an honest man. He frankly desired her, and just as honestly, though cruelly, he had offered his assessment of her father’s concern for her spinsterhood.

  She was absolutely convinced that her father would only join in partnership with a man of high integrity and trustworthiness. And he was indeed among her father’s favorites, if appearances could be judged. Being honest herself, she decided to respond without pretense.

  While observing the interesting play of her lovely, serious face as she considered his words, Stewart smiled inwardly and once again pondered his good fortune in having met the Duke of Weston. A man born to wealth and privilege, Weston had begun a trading business by purchasing a few ships captained by men who were willing to take unusual risks to assure England of goods which were most desirable and least readily obtainable. Through his own personal efforts, Weston had added new fortunes to the previous wealth he had inherited. And while his fellow aristocrats may not have approved of his risky and unnecessary adventures, Weston was much too powerful – and popular – to snub.

  Now the maverick gentleman, who saw his thriving business as an exciting game, was all too aware of the difficulties involved in trading with the young United States. And yet the market for American goods was never better. Weston, ever a loyal British lord and subject, could not agree with his business associates who felt threatened by America’s growing share of trade. “There’s room for all of us to prosper,” he had told Chamberlain at their first meeting in London, “and I intend to.”