“I shall,” she assured him.
“Now go to bed and get some rest,” he told her. “Everything is being done to find Achmed.”
She watched him leave, feeling strangely alone. Moving to the window, she stood there for a long time. She wondered what Thorn wanted to ask of her. Again she had felt in him a great sadness, and it made her sad.
She moved down the hallway and up the stairs. When she reached her room, she dropped to her knees and said a prayer for Thorn, Achmed, and Thorn’s father.
Long after her prayer, she remained on her knees, listening to the rain peppering against the windowpane and hoping that wherever he was, Achmed had found shelter from the storm.
Finally, she climbed on the bed and lay down fully clothed. She would not sleep tonight, for her mind was too troubled.
Now she was all alone. What would she do without her faithful Achmed? She thought of Thorn, and how alone he must feel at this time.
Thorn kept the morning vigil beside his father’s bed. At times his father would rouse and call out for Thorn’s mother, but mostly he drifted in and out of a restless sleep.
Thorn had been told by Livia that Dr. Cross had been with his father earlier, but the doctor had told her nothing of his father’s condition.
When the sun came up, Thorn stood up and flexed his stiff muscles. He blew out the lamp on the side table, and dark shadows clung to the corners of the room. Thorn walked to the bell pull and gave it a tug.
Moments later, Livia appeared at the door.
“Livia, I have to go out for a time, but I want you to sit with my father until I return. Is that understood?”
“Yes’er, Master Thorn. But what if the mistress tells me to do something else? She don’t like me hanging around. She’ll beat me for sure if I don’t do what I’m told.”
Thorn’s eyes hardened. “My stepmother will not ever beat you again, Livia, you have my word on that. And no matter what she says to the contrary, you are to remain with my father. Also, tell the upstairs maid to have a chamber prepared for me. I will be staying at Stoddard Hill.”
“Yes’er, Master Thorn.” Her eyes brightened with triumph, and she nodded eagerly. None of the slaves liked the mistress because she was cruel and vindictive. Now that the young master had come home, they were all encouraged that there would be a change for the better.
“I am leaving my man, Cappy, downstairs. If my father’s condition worsens, tell him, and he will know where to find me.”
Again she nodded. “I will, Master Thorn.”
When Thorn stepped out into the hall, he found Wilhelmina waiting for him. “I was about to look in on Benjamin. Did he pass a restful night?”
“I would not disturb him just now, if I were you.” He blocked her path. “He’s sleeping.”
Her eyes seemed to spit fire, for she could feel her authority slipping away. Why did Thorn have to return just when she was about to gain control of Stoddard Hill?
“Ben is my husband, and you have no right to keep me from him,” she said, pushing against him, but he did not allow her access to the room.
“You should have remembered that you were his wife last night when he needed someone to be with him. When I arrived, he was calling out for a drink of water. Now he has Livia to see to his needs.”
“Are you implying that I’m neglecting my husband?”
He took in a long, disgusted breath. “I am not implying anything. Only you can be accountable for the kind of wife you are.”
She wet her lips, her eyes running over the breadth of his shoulders. “Accountable to whom?”
His eyes probed hers. “Accountable to me, damn you! I know what kind of woman you are, but make no mistake about it, I will not stand by and watch you destroy my father.”
She shrugged. “Your father is a dying man. He has not cared for me since the night you went away. All he talks about is that mother of yours.”
Thorn bit back his anger. “I will be back later. I do not want anyone in my father’s room but the doctor, Livia, and Cappy.” He scowled at her. “You stay away from him, is that understood? And another thing, if I ever hear of you striking Livia or any of the other slaves, you will regret it.”
She wanted to lash out at him, but the look he gave her made her reconsider. She moved aside, allowing him to brush past her. What right did he have to keep her from her own husband? And it was no concern of his if she punished a slave.
But she dared not disobey him. Thorn Stoddard was not a man to trifle with. She feared him, and she desired him, but she would find a way to pull him down. She caused him to leave Stoddard Hill once; she would see him leave again.
Wilhelmina slipped into her bedroom and glanced at the naked man lounging on her bed. “He’s gone for the day. If you are going to do something, it had better be soon,” she told him. “I want that old man out of my life.”
Dr. George Cross patted the mattress and motioned for her to join him in bed. “And the son?” he asked. “What about him?”
She shook her head, indicating she did not want to lay with him. “I will deal with the son,” she said offhandedly.
He reached out, took her hand, and with a tug, pulled her down beside him. His long fingers trailed across her breast, and he pulled the lace aside and swirled his tongue around the nipple. “You excite me as no other woman ever could,” he said, pressing her tightly to him until she felt the bulge of his desire.
“I admit it was exciting to have you here last night,” she told him. “Right under Thorn’s nose, and him being none the wiser for it. But you had better leave now. The slaves might know you and I are lovers, and they would not hesitate to tell Thorn.”
George Cross’s eyes ran over Wilhelmina. He had been obsessed with her ever since he had first come to this house a year ago to treat Benjamin Stoddard. He felt no guilt at the slow poison he was prescribing for the old man. He would do anything Wilhelmina asked of him—anything to keep her with him.
“George, are you certain that the poison will work?”
“Of course. You have seen the results. But I am not sure about doubling the dosage as you suggested. You saw what happened when I did.”
“Everyone believes he has a bad heart anyway. They will not think it strange when he suddenly dies. Besides, George, you will be the only doctor to attend Ben, so no one will doubt your word when you diagnose his death as heart failure.”
“I suppose.”
Wilhelmina was reflective. “For the moment, my main worry is keeping Thorn from reading a copy of his father’s will.”
“You said the old man intended to change his will and cut you out.”
“Yes, and he would have done it, too…if he hadn’t become ill.” Her laughter rang out. “The drug has altered his mind. He dwells more and more in the past.”
She moved off the bed. “Hurry and dress, George. I want you to leave by the back way.”
He pulled on his pants and moved over to her, slipping his arms around her waist. “What does the present will leave you?”
“The day after he ordered Thorn off Stoddard Hill, Benjamin made a will, leaving everything to me.” Her eyes darkened with the challenge. “Even though he has returned, Thorn Stoddard will not stand in my way. I can take care of him.”
George looked into her face and saw something raw and unsatisfied there. Her eyes were shining, and her tongue darted out to lick her upper lip. Suddenly jealousy ate at his heart. “I will take care of Thorn Stoddard for you.”
Wilhelmina was driven by desperation. She saw suspicion on George’s face, and she needed to keep his trust if she was to complete her plan. “No. You take care of Benjamin, and I’ll take care of Thorn. It must not appear that you have any interest in him other than as the son of your patient.”
Thorn dismounted and rushed up the steps of Stonehouse. He had come by way of the Victorious, so he knew Achmed had not yet been found. He dreaded facing Brittany with the news, because he had come to understand how much Achmed m
eant to her.
Brittany must have seen him ride up, because when he entered the house, she was waiting for him. “Have you word of Achmed?”
“I am sorry, Brittany. No one has seen him. But we are still searching.”
“You will not give up, will you?”
“No,” he assured her. “The men who searched for him last night are resting while others take their place.”
Her brow furrowed with worry. “What is your father’s condition?”
“He’s not good. I fear for his life, Brittany.”
She noticed the tired lines beneath his eyes. “Did you sit with him after you left here?”
“Yes.”
“Then you have not been to bed yet?”
“No, not yet. I have too much on my mind to sleep.”
“Tell me how can I help you?”
He did not answer immediately, but instead, took her hand and led her into the dining room. From a sideboard, he poured himself and Brittany a cup of coffee and motioned for her to join him at the table.
When she searched his face, she detected something vulnerable about him.
“Do you really want to help me, Brittany?”
She laid her hand on his. “I’ll do anything.”
His eyes drew hers, and he clasped her hand. “Then marry me, Brittany.”
“But we have already discussed this, Thorn, and I told you—”
“Let me finish. Marrying me is the practical solution to both our problems. You are alone, and whether or not you know it, an unmarried woman alone becomes the victim of vicious gossip, and prey for every upstart that comes along.”
She was thoughtful for a moment, remembering with an aching heart the love between her mother and Simijin. That was what she wanted in a marriage.
“I can see that you are doing this to help me, but what could I bring to a marriage that would benefit you?”
He lifted her hand and looked at the delicate bone structure, the long, tapered fingers and the half-moon-shaped fingernails. She was so small, yet wiser and far more intelligent than any woman he knew. “You could help me with my father,” he said at last.
She shook her head. “You could hire a nurse to perform that duty, and she would not require that you marry her.”
His voice came out in an exasperated hiss. “Brittany, for God’s sake, I need you, don’t you see that?”
She was completely taken aback at the thought that Thorn would need any woman. She touched his face, wishing she could be all things to him. “Marriage is a high price to pay for needing someone, Thorn.”
“I am willing to pay it. But first, you must know what you are letting yourself in for. I have talked with my father’s solicitor, and I have discovered that my father is deeply in debt. The monies I receive for the sale of the Victorious and her cargo will go to pay off that debt. I have very little to offer you in the way of luxury, but I will give you my name, and it’s an honorable one.”
She came to her feet abruptly. “You are going to sell the Victorious?”
“I fear I must.”
“Wait right here until I come back. At that time I will give you my answer.”
With a quizzical expression on his face, he watched her rush out of the room.
Soon Brittany returned, carrying a large hand-carved wooden chest, which she set before Thorn. “I will accept your offer, Thorn, and this will by my dowry.”
He frowned as she flipped the lid open, and there in the black velvet-lined box were gold coins, sparkling diamonds, rubies the size of pigeon eggs, and priceless pearls.
He closed the lid and stood up. “I will not accept the treasures Lord Simijin has given you, Brittany, but I would still be honored if you would be my wife.”
“But the jewels are mine to give, and I want you to have them. If you are to be my husband, we will share wealth or poverty. Is that not the way it is in this country between married people?”
He felt a tightening in his throat, and he had the strongest urge to crush her in his arms. “You have never known poverty, Brittany.”
Her eyes were shining with earnestness. “Will you fault me for that?”
He pulled her into his arms and laughed with delight. “No, little dancer, I will not fault you for that.”
He released her, feeling strangely lighthearted. “Run along upstairs and make yourself look like a bride. I will make you my wife before the sun sets on this day.”
She turned tear-bright eyes up to him. “My wedding day. With so much sadness in our lives, I will hold on to this bit of happiness.”
He caught her hand and raised it to his lips. “I will try my damnable best to make you happy, Brittany. But I may not always succeed.”
She gave him an impish smile. “I’ll take my chances with you, Thorn.”
Chapter Twenty-four
The night was dark as the well-sprung carriage bounced over the rutted roads. The driver was guided by the lantern carried by the outrider. Brittany had fallen asleep with her head resting against her new husband’s shoulder, and she woke when the coach stopped.
Thorn smiled down at her. “Wake up, Mrs. Stoddard, you have come home.”
She looked out the window, but it was a dark night and the house was no more than a dark shadow against a pale moon.
Thorn opened the door and jumped down, then swung Brittany to the ground.
“I am sorry I fell asleep,” she apologized as he led her up the steps to the front door.
“Think nothing of it,” he assured her. “You have had a hard two days and needed the rest.”
She felt the gold band that circled her finger. It had been a brief and impersonal ceremony that bound her to this man who had come into her life just when she needed him most. She was determined to make him a good wife, and she hoped she could stay out of trouble.
Thorn led her into the house, and she yawned as she looked around the wide, high ceiling of the entry hall. She could see that it had once been a grand house, but now the carpets were threadbare and the floor was in need of repair.
Thorn helped Brittany upstairs and led her down a long corridor. Stopping before a door, he pushed it open, taking her inside.
He lit a lamp and looked around. “Do you think you will be comfortable here?”
She looked at him, feeling a strange thrill race through her body. “Yes, I believe it will do very nicely.” Her eyes moved to the large bed where the covers had been turned back, and she wanted to ask him if they would be sharing that bed.
He gathered her close and touched his lips to her forehead. “Will you forgive me if I desert you on our wedding night? I must see to my father.”
She nodded and turned her face away so he would not read her disappointment. She understood that he had many heavy responsibilities weighing on his shoulders. Of course he would want to be with his father since he was so ill.
“Do not concern yourself about me. Go to your father—he needs you.”
Thorn looked at her regretfully. “Do you have to be so damned understanding?” His smile took the sting out of his words. “Go to bed, little dancer.” His eyes sparkled. “And, dream of me, if you dare.”
“I am still worried about Achmed.”
He moved to the window and opened it so a slight breeze circulated through the room. “All that it is possible to do is being done to locate him. It is but a matter of time until my men find him, Brittany. Try to be patient until then.”
“Yes, I know you are doing everything possible, but I am so anxious for his return.” She removed her bonnet and dropped it in a chair. “Go to your father now. I will be here if you need me.”
“I need you,” he whispered, coming up behind her and pulling her head so it rested against his shoulder. “You are my only sanity in this world of turmoil.”
She turned around to him, her eyes large and luminous in the soft light. “I would like to be.”
“All I seem to think about for now is my father. Can you understand that?”
&nbs
p; “Yes, I can. You have never told me anything about your relationship with your father.”
He smiled and put her from him. “Tonight is not the time to bare my soul, Brittany.” He gave her a gentle shove. “It’s off to bed with you now.”
Thorn turned to the door and departed abruptly, leaving Brittany staring after him.
She moved to the window and glanced out, but it was too dark to see anything. How quickly events had happened to shape and change her life. Only a few short weeks ago she had been a young girl with little on her mind other than how best to escape her governess. Now she was in America, and this was her wedding night, which she would spend alone.
With a resigned sigh, she unfastened her gown and pulled it over her head. Struggling into her nightgown, she climbed into the bed and sank into the soft mattress, too weary to think about the events of the day.
She yawned and turned her face to the fluffy pillow. She was Thorn’s wife, but there was no sense of belonging, only a deep tranquil feeling of uncertainty. Her eyes closed, and she gave in to the tranquil feeling of sleep. Tomorrow would be soon enough to worry about Achmed and about being a wife.
On entering his father’s room, Thorn saw that Matty was sitting at her master’s bedside.
She placed her finger to her lips and whispered, “He’s doing mighty poorly, Master Thorn—mighty poorly.”
Standing over his father, Thorn glanced down at the frail body, thinking he looked ill indeed. “Has he been awake?”
“He keeps on mumbling sometimes, but he ain’t opened his eyes.”
“Has anyone else been in to see him today?”
“No, sir. Just the doctor.”
Thorn ran his fingers through his hair and pulled up a chair. He shook off the feeling of tiredness. “You can go to bed now, Matty. I’ll stay with my father.”
“You look just ’bout done in, Master Thorn. I just been here a while. Why don’t you go to bed and let me sit with Master Ben.”
Thorn shook his head. “No, I want to stay with my father.”
Matty had been born on Stoddard Hill Plantation, and she was well aware of the situation between the father and son. She eyed the young master sadly. Things were not good here, and they hadn’t been since the old master had taken himself a second wife much younger than himself.
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