by Jo Goodman
Brandon glanced at the portraits of his forebears on the walls. “Let them,” he said. Then he slid off the chair and drew her into his arms.
* * *
Brandon shrugged into his jacket. Looking past his reflection in the mirror, he could see Shannon stirring in bed. As she turned, Brandon’s eyes were drawn to the curve of her naked shoulder bathed in the soft dawn light. Unwittingly she was making it difficult for him to leave the bedchamber. She murmured something in her sleep, and the sound drew Brandon to her side. He sat on the edge of the bed and bent his head, laying his lips against her cheek for the briefest of moments.
A faint smile touched Shannon’s mouth as she felt Brandon’s caress. “Mm,” was all she said.
“I’m leaving for town,” he whispered. “I should be back before dinner.”
His words registered slowly, and when she finally understood their import, her smile vanished. “Town? But why? We were there yesterday.”
“A small matter that I neglected, but an important one.” Green eyes, he thought. An astonishingly handsome man. Charming. It could be nothing, no one. Or it could be everything. It could be Parker. Brandon knew precisely when the thought had occurred to him. In the aftermath of making love to Shannon on the library floor, while she slept in his arms, he had idly studied the portraits of his family. A gallery of charming, handsome rogues, he had thought. It was then that suspicion was borne upon him. He could not help but think that Peter Rhoades was a myth. Rhoades was also the maiden name of Parker’s mother, though the connection had not occurred to Brandon earlier. A coincidence? Not bloody likely. His gut reaction was that Parker was taunting him, making an opening gambit without naming what game he played.
There was a simple method to prove his theory, but asking Shannon to sketch Peter Rhoades would have aroused her suspicions, perhaps frightened her. That was not what he wanted, not when she had been so content these past weeks with the knowledge that they were leaving soon. It seemed necessary that he go to town himself. If nothing came of it, as a last resort, he would ask Shannon to put the man’s face to paper. Mayhap he would have cause to laugh at his suspicions then.
Brandon kissed her again, this time on the soft pulse at her temple. “Dream of me,” he said. Her sleepy response promised that she already was.
Shannon was awakened several hours later by another kiss and two dimpled hands sliding around her neck for a cuddle. From the doorway she could hear Addie clucking her tongue and telling Clara in a strident whisper that her father had left orders that Miz Shannon not be disturbed.
“It’s all right, Addie,” Shannon said. “I was about to get up. You can go.” When the door clicked shut, Shannon tickled Clara and blew against her neck. Clara’s laughter cascaded over her. “Good morning, Clara.”
“Good morning. You don’t have any clothes on.”
Shannon blinked at Clara’s bold statement. She glanced down at herself and saw the blankets had been dislodged by her tussle with Clara. When she and Brandon had left the library last evening, donning a nightgown seemed a perfect waste of time, especially as Brandon wanted to repeat in comfort what had taken place belowstairs. “So I don’t,” she said, pretending astonishment at the fact, delighting in Clara’s giggles. “Will you get my robe, please?”
Clara scrambled off the bed and retrieved Shannon’s dressing gown from the wardrobe. “Where’s Papa?”
“He’s gone to town.” She slipped into the robe and belted it. “He’ll be back by dinner,” she added when Clara’s heart-shaped face fell in disappointment.
“But he promised we would go riding,” she said, thrusting out her lower lip.
“That’s not a very pretty face,” Shannon chastised, mimicking Clara’s pout. It was not like Brandon to forget his promises, certainly not one to his daughter. She tried to remember what he said about his business in town. Either she had been too sleepy to really listen or he hadn’t told her much.
Clara pulled in her lip and leaned against the bed, her chin resting in her hands. “He promised.”
Shannon twisted one of Clara’s ringlets around her finger and tugged gently. “I know he did, but he’ll take you later.”
“When?”
“I’m not sure. Not today. It will probably be dark by the time your father returns.”
The lip appeared again and was quickly retracted when Clara saw Shannon’s reproving look. “Will you take me?”
Shannon’s riding had improved tenfold under Brandon’s guidance. Her new mount, which she had named Holly in spite of Brandon’s amusement that the filly deserved something a shade nobler, was a treasure, responsive to Shannon’s slightest touch. Still, Shannon hesitated, uncertain that she wanted Clara to ride with her. “What if I just lead you around the paddock on Rainbow? How would you like that?”
Clara wanted the wild, flying ride her father had promised, but she wisely accepted Shannon’s offer. “Will you take me outside the paddock?”
“All right.”
“Can we have a picnic?”
“No,” she said sternly, leveling Clara with a look that said the questions should end. “It’s dreadfully chilly out, or hadn’t you thought of that? We shall have to bundle you up as is. I doubt you’ll want to stay out long once we start.”
Shannon couldn’t have been more wrong. The air was bracingly cold, but Clara absolutely loved being outdoors, and she found the same pleasure in riding as her mother. Shannon led Rainbow along the road. When it forked, she took the northern route, following the folly’s boundaries. Conversation was limited because of the mufflers Shannon and Clara wore. Only Clara’s eyes peeped over the top of her woolen scarf, but they were expressive of her delight in this adventure.
The cold made little impact on Shannon. In addition to the scarf covering most of her face, she wore the fur hat she had purchased the previous day, her hair coiled inside it. Cody’s Christmas present was proving to be more effective against the elements than she had supposed. Shannon’s stride was long as she kept pace with Clara’s pony. She enjoyed the freedom of her mannish garments almost as much as she enjoyed goading Martha’s sense of propriety each time she wore them.
“Do you know, Clara, I believe it’s becoming warmer.” Shannon slipped her scarf down over her nose for a moment. “Yes, definitely warmer.” She pointed skyward with her free hand. “And look at those clouds. I think we might see some snow. Would you like that?”
“Snow! Snow!”
Behind Clara’s muffler it sounded more like Smo! Smo! but Shannon understood well enough. “I think we should go back to the house. We’ve come a long way. Much farther than I ever intended.” She turned her head to make certain Clara could hear her and missed her footing in a rut in the road. Stumbling, she tried to regain her balance by reaching for Rainbow. The pony shied away and Shannon fell, her ankle twisting sickeningly under her.
“Mishannon!”
Clara’s cry of alarm reached Shannon’s ears, but the only reply she could offer was a whimper of pain. In one hand she still held Rainbow’s leading strings. Afraid the pony would bolt, Shannon held on tightly. She managed to grit out an order for Clara to slide off her pony’s saddle, and caught the child when she obeyed. Once she was certain Clara was safe, Shannon dropped the reins and tended to her own pain, gripping her ankle in both hands. Tears gathered in her eyes as she rocked slightly, trying to concentrate on something besides the hot, searing ache in her foot. The intensity of it nauseated her. “Oh, Clara,” she laughed through her tears. “I’ve really done it this time.”
“Shall I kiss it?” Clara asked helpfully, blinking rapidly to stem her own tears.
“No.” Shannon sucked in her breath as another sharp pain shimmied up her leg. “Thank you, but no. I don’t think it will do the trick this time.”
“Can you walk?”
Shannon gamely tried to rise. “No. Not at the moment at least.”
“You can ride Rainbow.”
“I wish I could, but Rainbow can
’t carry me. She’s too small and I’m too large. I don’t want to hurt her.”
Clara slid her arms around Shannon’s neck. “What will we do?”
The question was uppermost in Shannon’s mind also. “I think I will be all right if I sit for a little while. Shall we cuddle to keep warm?”
Clara nodded and fell into Shannon’s lap, spreading out her riding cloak so it partially protected Shannon. “Oh, look! It’s snowing!”
Indeed it was. Shannon did not share Clara’s enthusiasm. She was not at all sure that she would be able to get back to the folly unaided, and the alternative, which was to wait in the open until someone worried about them and came searching, did not bear thinking about. Several large snowflakes settled on Clara’s cape, and Shannon brushed them away, sighing when they were quickly replaced. “I believe we are in need of shelter until someone comes for us.” She hadn’t really expected any response from Clara, so she was surprised when Clara slipped her scarf over her mouth and clearly explained there was a cabin nearby. Shannon was skeptical. “Are you certain?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“But how do you know?” Shannon wanted to believe her but thought it more likely that Clara was confused. How could the child possibly know where they were in relation to any type of shelter?
“Papa showed me,” she explained simply.
“He’s brought you riding here before?”
Clara nodded. “See that tree?”
Shannon followed Clara’s mittened hand as she pointed to a gnarled oak. The trunk was distinctive, having been split by lightning that scored the bark. Not only had the tree somehow survived, it remained a unique landmark. Shannon found herself hoping Clara knew precisely what she was talking about. “I see the tree, darling. Is the cabin far from it?”
“Not so far,” she said certainly. “I could see it when I was sitting on Papa’s horse.”
Shannon rubbed her cheek against Clara’s. “You are beyond everything wonderful. Shall we try to find it?”
Walking was even more difficult than Shannon imagined it would be. She was afraid to let Clara on Rainbow again for fear she could not control the pony. Instead she leaned heavily against the mount and hobbled along while Clara walked beside her. They had gone over one hundred yards before Shannon saw the cabin tucked in the midst of a grove of pines, and she estimated another hundred yards before they reached it.
Snow was falling heavily now, giant flakes that Clara gleefully tried to capture. Shannon was grateful for the diversion. Clara seemed unaware of how often they halted so Shannon could catch her breath and have a moment’s respite. When they reached the beginning of the broken fence leading to the cabin, Shannon told Clara to run ahead and wait for her inside, where it was warmer.
* * *
Brandon lifted his tankard and motioned to Annie that he was in need of a refill.
“A mite early in the day for you to be drinking, ain’t it?” she asked, tossing back her hair as she approached his table. Annie rested her hip against the table and poured Brandon’s drink from a large stone pitcher.
Brandon shrugged off her question. He really hadn’t come to Redheart’s to drink, but it was as good a way to pass the time as any until Annie was free to talk to him. Redheart’s was one of the few places in town that offered lodgings, with or without Annie’s companionship, and Brandon had had no luck establishing that Parker had been to any of the other inns. “Are you finished in the kitchen?” he asked.
“For the moment.”
He nudged a chair away from the table and gestured for Annie to have a seat. “I want to speak with you.”
Annie’s full mouth turned down at the corners. “Just speak?” Her eyes glanced toward the stairs leading to her room.
“I’m married, Annie. Or are you the one person in Virginia who didn’t know that?”
“Marriage,” she said scornfully. “It matters naught to me, nor to most of my gentleman friends.” She ran one finger along the edge of her bodice, pulling on it just enough to give Brandon a glimpse of the curves of her breasts. “There was a time when it mattered naught to you,” she reminded him.
“It’s different now, Annie,” he said gently. “I came to ask you about my brother.”
“Cody?”
“No. Parker.” He saw her give a small start, and for the first time since coming to town, he was hopeful. “It’s important that I see him before he leaves for Belletraine. I was wondering if he spent last evening with you?”
“How did you know he was in town? He usually takes pains to—” Annie fidgeted with the folds of her woolen dress as she realized her mistake. “You didn’t know, did you?”
Brandon placed one hand over Annie’s nervous ones. “Let us say I wasn’t certain. But he was in town yesterday, wasn’t he?” At Annie’s hesitant nod, Brandon continued.” And he stayed with you?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t understand why you are so reluctant to tell me about Parker. Why should it be a secret?”
Annie shrugged. “Parker just wanted it that way. He never said I shouldn’t speak to you. I suppose he didn’t expect you would come round. I wasn’t supposed to tell Cody, that’s all.”
Brandon’s brows drew together as he tried to make sense of what Annie was telling him. “But Cody’s been gone these past weeks…” His voice drifted off. “Annie, are you telling me you’ve been seeing Parker since before Cody left?”
Annie’s shoulders straightened as she became defensive. “What of it?” she demanded. “I see lots of men.”
“Hardly the issue. Is Parker still here?”
“No. He left a few hours ago.”
“For Belletraine?”
“I don’t know.”
A sense of urgency was clawing at Brandon’s vitals. He forced himself to go slowly and discover just what it was that Annie knew before he rushed back to the folly. Parker’s presence in Williamsburg on occasions other than yesterday was a surprise to Brandon. To his knowledge Parker generally conducted Belletraine’s business in Baltimore. “I think you’d better tell me the whole of Parker’s visits, Annie, beginning with why Parker didn’t want Cody to know he was seeing you.”
When Brandon left the tavern an hour later, he was furiously angry with himself for being so blind, with Cody for being naive, and with Annie for being a fool. Only Parker was exempt from Brandon’s anger. For him Brandon reserved raw, naked hatred.
* * *
Clara pressed her eye to a small hole in the cabin’s shuttered window. “Someone’s coming, Mishannon.”
“Can you see who it is?” Shannon was lying on the single bed, her injured ankle elevated by two folded blankets she had slipped beneath it. The slightest movement was excruciatingly painful, so Shannon didn’t stir when Clara made her excited announcement.
“No. There’s too many snows.”
Shannon permitted herself a small smile at Clara’s description of the near-blizzard conditions outside the cabin. The tiny fire she had been able to make in the hearth offered little warmth, and their shelter had few amenities save for the two blankets Shannon was using and the one that was tucked around Clara. “Come away from the window,” Shannon said. “It mightn’t be anyone from the folly.” More likely it was a traveler searching for shelter as they had done. “Come, sit with me.” Shannon bit heir lip to keep from crying out as Clara shook the bed when she climbed onto it. “Be still, Clara.” When Clara quieted, Shannon could hear their visitor kicking his boots free of snow against the cabin door. A moment later it was pushed open.
Grimacing, Shannon forced herself up on her elbows. “Mr. Rhoades! You can’t imagine how—”
“Parker!” Clara cried out happily, cutting off Shannon.
Parker Grant did not often show surprise, but that emotion was clearly etched in his features now. His probing green glance darted between his niece and Shannon, and then he did something he had only done rarely in his adult life. He laughed, softly at first, then louder, his unrhythmic tone
bordering on hysteria. “Oh, this is rich,” he nearly shouted, tossing his wet three-cornered hat onto the table and leaning his musket against the wall. The smile he leveled at them was rife with self-mockery. “When I think of the hours I planned…the time involved…so unnecessary. Here you are—both of you—with no prompting from me.” He wiped his eyes, which were damp from his laughter. “What brought you here? No, never mind. I imagine it was the same thing that brought me. Something of a storm, isn’t it? I didn’t even notice the smoke from your fire. Where is your horse?”
“My pony’s in the back,” Clara answered before Shannon could stop her. “Mishannon was walking, only she hurt her foot. Will you take us to Papa, Parker?”
Parker hunkered down on his knees and held out his arms for Clara. She scooted off the bed and hugged him, oblivious to Shannon’s attempt to hold her back. “That’s Uncle Parker, minx. But then, you never were a proper miss. Your mother’s daughter in every fashion, I think.” He looked over Clara’s shoulder, took note of Shannon’s pale and worried features, and smiled without warmth. “I regret the lies on our previous meeting, Mrs. Fleming, but they were quite necessary.”
Shannon’s eyes narrowed as she watched Parker return Clara’s hug. How had she not known who he was yesterday? The distinctive Fleming features, the tight jaw, the shape of the mouth, were obvious to her now. “You are lying,” she said coldly. “You don’t regret them at all. You deliberately set out to deceive me. Why?”
“For the odd bit of information, I suppose,” he said carelessly. “I was almost as surprised to see you outside that shop as I was seeing you here today. Bran was noticeably absent. It was as good a time as any to make your acquaintance.” He released Clara and gave her a playful push toward Shannon. “When you mentioned leaving for Boston, I realized how quickly I must act. But this—” his hand swept the air, indicating the entire cabin—“this is better than I could have hoped for.”
“Then you have no intention of helping us get back to the folly.”