Enchantress

by Constance O'Banyon

  At the moment of surrender, Thorn quaked with the power of gratification, while Brittany’s body answered his burning desire. A soft groan was torn from Brittany’s throat as Thorn fired her desire and then satisfied her needs.

  Their bodies cooled and their heartbeats slowed as the shadows of night crept across the cottage.

  A cool breeze stirred the curtains at the window while the two lovers nestled together.

  After wandering for so long and living in fear, Brittany was afraid to trust Thorn. With him she felt safe, and for the moment cherished, but was this all an illusion that would disappear with the morning sun?

  “This wasn’t supposed to happen,” Thorn told her, still clasping her to him. “But when I am near you, all I can think of is the pleasure I find with you.”

  She raised her head to look at him, feeling warmed by his admission. “Thorn, I will always want you to find pleasure with me.”

  With a disturbed expression, he looked into her eyes. “I want to take care of you and make you feel safe. I thought I owed you that much. My intentions were good”—he smiled—“but my flesh is weak.”

  “Why do I detect a note of apology in you, Thorn?”

  “Because I am apologizing. This should never have happened between us at this time. So many things stand in our way. I owe you—”

  Her breath came out in a hiss, and she moved away from him. “You owe me nothing, Thorn. It was I who thrust myself upon you when I came on board your ship. If anyone is indebted, it has to be me.”

  His expression was sorrowful. “I have hurt you again, and that was not my intention, Brittany. I have problems in my life, and I do not want to make you a part of them. Although I am not certain I can keep you from being pulled in to them, I am sure as hell going to try.”

  “I do not understand.”

  “I prefer not to go into what occurred in Washington. But suffice it to say that you might still be in danger from the Turks. I feel it is best if few people know you are at Stoddard Hill.”

  “Thorn, it would not surprise me if your government wants to turn me over to the Turkish government—which is, of course, Sultan Selim. Is that what happened?”

  He was amazed at her quick mind, but he thought it best not to alarm her. “The Turkish government does not dictate to Washington.”

  She sat up with a perplexed expression on her face. “Why do you speak in riddles and tell me nothing, Thorn? I should think you know by now that I will not swoon at the first sight of danger.”

  He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “If you insist on knowing, I was asked to send you back to Turkey.”

  “Yet you have decided not to?”

  “Of course I won’t. You are my wife. I anticipated that something just like this might happen, which is one of the reasons I married you. Even the United States government cannot make a man give up his own wife to another government.”

  She moved off the bed and pulled her gown over her head. “So that is the real reason you married me?”

  “That and others.”

  “It seems that once again you are caught up in the intrigue that surrounds me, Thorn. You have troubles of your own, and did not need the added burden of my difficulties.”

  He smiled at her. “Even before we met, I was drawn into your difficulties. If you will recall, I had not laid eyes on you when the Turkish Navy let loose their volley.”

  Her eyes held a haunted expression. “So you married me to keep me from falling into the hands of the sultan. Is that why, Thorn?”

  He sat on the side of the bed and pulled on his trousers. “Why did you accept me as your husband?” he said, answering her question with a question of his own.

  She shook her head, her eyes sad. “Perhaps we were both a bit hasty in deciding to be married. If I had asked my father’s family, I feel certain they would have intervened with the government, and I could have remained in this country under their protection.”

  “Perhaps,” he agreed. “But if I were faced with the same choice, I would act no differently. There was no time to do otherwise.”

  “I have given you nothing, Thorn, while you have sacrificed your bachelorhood for me.”

  The blue of his eyes deepened. “It has been my pleasure to know you, Brittany Stoddard. Whatever the reason, and whatever the outcome, your life and mine have become intertwined.”

  Proudly, she raised her head and forced a smile. “I am certain it has been no pleasure for you to be at odds with your government because of me.”

  His eyes swept across her face. “There have been compensations.”

  Sadness weighed heavily on her heart. Thorn had married her for all the wrong reasons. Each day, she depended on him more and more. If this was love, why did it have to hurt so much? she wondered. Why did his casual manner tear at her heart?

  She turned away from him, fearing he would read the hurt in her eyes. “Being your wife is one of the hardest things I have been called upon to do. Given the choice, I am not sure I would agree to marry you again.”

  He came up behind her, but did not touch her. “I know that life here at Stoddard Hill cannot be pleasant for you. I am aware of Wilhelmina’s vindictiveness toward you. And, since my father’s illness, the plantation has fallen on hard times. The kitchens are unorganized, and the fields have not been cultivated. Was it a mistake for me to drag you into my troubles?”

  She turned around, glancing up at him with rounded eyes. “I know that Stoddard Hill will one day bloom again, and I do not really mind your stepmother’s viciousness, but I have been troubled by some of her insinuations.”

  His eyes became veiled. “Such as?”

  “I…she has implied that she was the cause of your leaving Stoddard Hill in the first place.”

  He glanced past her, to the garden beyond the window. “In that, she spoke the truth.”

  Brittany lowered her eyes, unwilling to believe that Thorn would covet his father’s wife. “She also hinted that you and she had been…lovers.” She raised her eyes to his, feeling sick inside that she should question Thorn’s honor.

  “If Wilhelmina were speaking the truth, Brittany, what would be your feelings be toward me?”

  “If it is true, I will be very disappointed in you, Thorn, and you will not be the man I thought you were.”

  His nostrils flared. “What did Wilhelmina say to you?”

  She lowered her head. “It is of no importance.”

  Seeing the doubt in her eyes, he gripped her chin and forced her to look at him. “I say it is important to you.”

  Her gaze flickered. “I do not want to talk about Wilhelmina.”

  He sighed wearily and took her hand, leading her to the bed. When he sat her down, he pulled up a chair and sat opposite her.

  “What I am about to tell you, I have never told anyone else. I find the whole incident distasteful, but I can see I owe you the truth.”

  She shook her head vigorously, ashamed that she had lowered herself to pry into matters that had happened to Thorn before she came into his life. “You do not owe me anything, Thorn. Keep your counsel, and I will keep mine.”

  He gave her a half-smile. “Are you keeping secrets from me?”

  She met his eyes without flinching. “Yes, I suppose I am.”

  He stared at her long and hard before he spoke. “Nonetheless, I will tell you this: The reason I left Stoddard Hill was because my father thought I had seduced his wife.”

  Brittany’s face whitened as she waited for Thorn to deny that he had been a party to such an atrocity. “Surely you would never betray your father,” she cried out.

  He took her hand and studied it. “What matters is that my father believed it, so he ordered me to leave Stoddard Hill.”

  She hated herself for asking, but she had to know. “You were never her lover, were you?”

  He took a steady breath. “You asked for the truth, and it is not easy to tell.” He griped Brittany’s shoulders, wishing he knew the words that would mak
e her understand. “Yes, I was once her lover.”

  Brittany’s heart shattered, and an unwelcome tear trailed down her cheek. “I would not have thought she was…that Wilhelmina was the kind of woman who would attract you.” She pushed his hands away, not wanting him to touch her. “I am not a very good judge of character, am I?”

  He chest felt tight, and he had a hard time taking a deep breath. “It’s not what you imagine, Brittany. All I ask is that you trust me.”

  He stood up and held out his hand, and she reluctantly placed her hand in his. “I will walk you to the house, and you can make yourself ready to go into Charleston.” His smile did not reach his eyes. “I do have one bit of good news. Cappy has found a buyer for my ship.”

  “A buyer?”

  “Yes. Some woman wants to buy the Victorious. So you see, all is not lost.”

  Brittany could not meet his eyes, fearing he would guess that she was the woman behind the sale of the Victorious.

  “We have many good things in our lives, Thorn. Your father is much improved, and I will soon have Achmed back. The sun always shines after a storm.”

  He took her arm and led her out into the garden. “And who armed you with that bit of wisdom?”

  “My mother.”

  “Ah, yes, the English Rose.”

  Chapter Thirty-one

  The driver guided the carriage beneath a vine-covered archway and up the winding road that led to Johnson Plantation house. The horses clopped along the hard-packed road beneath a canopy of blue.

  Brittany sat beside Thorn, every nerve in her body tense with apprehension.

  “Are you certain Achmed is here?” she asked.

  “I am told that he is indeed here.”

  She worked her fingers into her lace gloves. “I never realized how much he had meant in my life until he was taken away. I am not happy with this man who took him.”

  “You will have to understand, Brittany, that Mr. Johnson may not be the villian in this. He must have purchased Achmed, thinking it was a legitimate sale. It is the slavers who are to blame.”

  “I find them all equally guilty. To me, no man, woman, or child should ever have to suffer the indignity of being bought and sold like cattle. I know about your slave auctions. My own mother was once placed on a slave block, and she has told me of that indignity.”

  Thorn studied Brittany’s face. “I wonder how your mother came to be the wife of the Grand Vizier. Did Lord Simijin take her away from the auction?”

  “Yes, and we can be grateful that Simijin was the one who bought my mother that day. Later, after my mother became Simijin’s only wife, she asked him to release all his slaves, and because he loved her, he complied with her wishes immediately. Of course, many of them, like Achmed, remained because they loved my mother. I never thought Achmed would have to suffer such an atrocity.”

  Thorn looked past Brittany to the ivy-covered plantation house. “In the South, slavery is a way of life. As vile as it is, it will probably take years to be abolished.”

  The carriage came to a halt, and Thorn stepped down and then swung Brittany to the ground while Mr. and Mrs. Johnson walked slowly down the wide steps to greet them.

  Ina Johnson was a shy little woman, with black hair and equally black eyes. She hung on to her heavyset, boisterous husband as if she needed his protection.

  Theodore Johnson was the first to speak. He introduced himself and his wife, looking apologetic. “I was sorry to hear that I was a party to a blatant deception, Mrs. Stoddard. Had I known the slave belonged to you, I would have notified you immediately.”

  Brittany was in no mood to appease Mr. Johnson’s conscience. She was disturbed that she did not see Achmed. “Where is he?” she demanded. “If you have harmed him in any way, it will go hard with you.”

  Ina Johnson’s eyes took on a nervous twitch. “Just because you are from Stoddard Hill, there is no need to talk down to us, or to threaten us. We…made an honest mistake and cannot be…”

  Brittany glanced past the woman to her husband. “Bring Achmed to me at once.”

  The man shifted his eyes away from her piercing glance. “I regret to tell you that I had to have him…whipped.”

  Thorn moved forward, and Johnson quickly stepped back. “You what!” Thorn hissed between clenched teeth. “You informed my first mate that Achmed had not been harmed.”

  Theodore Johnson shifted his stance. “Well, you see it’s like this. We knew you was coming after Achmed today, so we decided, since we had lost money on him, we might at least have the use of…We put him in with three of our strongest breeders. When he refused to…well you know, I had him stripped and beaten. We never tolerate disobedience on this plantation.”

  Brittany whirled on the man. “You fool! Achmed could not do what you asked. He is a eunuch. Surely he must have told you that.”

  Johnson’s face paled beneath his tan. “He is a stubborn one. I can assure you, he told us nothing of the sort. I had no idea…”

  “Of course he would not admit the truth to you,” Brittany said angrily. “Achmed is a private man, and a proud one. Why should he admit anything to you?” Tears glistened in her eyes. “Take me to him at once.”

  Thorn gave Theodore Johnson a warning glance. “You had better do as she says.”

  Johnson cleared his throat. “I had thought that I might offer you seventeen hundred dollars for Achmed.”

  Brittany became further enraged. “You insult me, sir. Achmed is a free man, and no one is going to buy and sell him. I want to see him at once.”

  Thorn stepped toward Theodore Johnson, his eyes blazing. “If I were you, I would do what my wife says without delay.”

  The man pushed his wife up the steps, urging her to go into the house. “Follow me,” he said to Thorn. “I have him at the slave quarters.”

  Thorn took Brittany’s arm, and they walked beside Mr. Johnson. Brittany was so angry she did not trust herself to speak. When they came to a building set apart from the others, Johnson motioned them inside.

  “This is the infirmary. Achmed is being treated here. As you will observe, he has received the best of care.”

  “He would not need to be treated at all if it were not for you,” Brittany said with feeling. She pushed Mr. Johnson aside and entered the long, narrow building with its dirt floors. When her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw three straw mattresses on the floor.

  She rushed forward, examining each face and finding Achmed on the last mattress. He was lying on his stomach, and she cried out in anguish when she saw the angry red welts cut deeply into his back.

  She dropped down beside the gentle giant, tears blinding her. “Oh, Achmed, Achmed, they have hurt you.”

  Achmed’s eyes opened, and he tried to rise. “Little mistress, is that you, or am I dreaming again?”

  She gripped his hand. “You are not dreaming; I have come to take you away from here.”

  “Do not let them hit me again, mistress. And forgive me because the money Lord Simijin gave me was stolen by the slaver.”

  A deep sob escaped her throat, and she turned to Theodore Johnson. “You have done sorry work here, sir. You have hurt the gentlest soul I know.”

  The man had no answer for her, but turned his eyes away from her accusing glance.

  Thorn pulled Brittany to her feet and then motioned for Johnson to assist him. “Take it easy, Achmed,” Thorn said as he helped the man to his feet. “We are going to take you home. No one will ever hit you again.”

  Achmed had been made comfortable on the third floor at Stoddard Hill. While Esmeralda had refused to climb the stairs to Achmed’s room, she had agreed to mix one of her healing potions for his wounds, and his pain had lessened.

  Ben no longer required constant care, and was able to get out of bed for long periods, and Brittany spent much of her time going up the stairs between Ben and Achmed’s rooms.

  Thorn had left for Charleston the night he had brought Achmed home, and Brittany had not heard from h
im since. An uneasy quiet hung over Stoddard Hill, as if everyone was waiting for something to happen.

  Brittany had just peeked into Achmed’s room to find him sleeping. When she applied more salve to his wounds, he hardly stirred. She was glad to see that his back was healing nicely, and she expected him to be up and about within a week.

  Poor Achmed had paid dearly for accompanying her to America.

  Brittany moved down the stairs to the second floor, thinking she would go to Ben’s room to read to him before lunch. When she heard whispered voices in the hallway, she pressed her back against the wall. Wilhelmina and Dr. Cross were engaged in what appeared to be a struggle.

  “You have lost all reason, Wilhelmina. What you ask is impossible,” George Cross was saying.

  Wilhelmina glared at him. “You will do as I say, George. You are in too deep to think you can walk away now.”

  Brittany turned her face away when Dr. Cross pulled Wilhelmina into his arms and boldly fondled her breasts. “You know I will do anything for you,” he said in a husky voice. “All it takes for me to be happy is to get between your legs.”

  Brittany felt her stomach churn. She had come to suspect that Wilhelmina and the doctor were lovers; now she was certain. It made her sick to watch the disgusting display. Had Wilhelmina no shame? How could she carry on so right before her husband’s bedroom?

  Brittany did not look again until she heard a door open and close. When she glanced up, the hallway was empty. Apparently Wilhelmina had taken her lover into her bedroom.

  Brittany hurried through the hallway and down to the first level, not wanting to encounter Wilhelmina. How would she ever face that woman now that she knew the truth about her and George Cross?

  Brittany wanted to breathe in fresh air and to get away from the oppressive feeling that hung over the house. She ran out the door and down the long stretch of lawn that led to the Ashley River.

  Standing in the cleansing air, she watched the muddy water wash against the shore. For several days, Brittany had managed to keep from thinking that Wilhelmina and Thorn had once been lovers. Now she shuddered when she thought of Thorn standing in the doctor’s place.