A Whisper Of Destiny

by Monica Barrie

  “I would like to examine you,” he said quietly.

  “I’m fine. It was just the trip… and arguing with Sean.” She turned to Sean. Her eyes softened and a delicate cupid’s bow smile formed on her lips. “Forgive me. I know that you’re only trying to do what you feel is best for me.” He nodded, but he still wore the questioning look that he’d had on his face when she ran from the room.

  Chatham sighed and stood up. “I have patients waiting to see me. I’ll join you all at mid-day.” He smiled at Sean and Kira, and then surprised them by bending and kissing Francine’s forehead lightly before he left.

  <><><>

  Cigar smoke clouded the ceiling. Commodore Finch sat near the window, looking at Sean and Captain Mathews, his own aide.

  “You’re positive?” asked Sean. He lifted his cheroot and drew on it.

  “Two of Cornwall’s ships left while I was coming here. Headed directly up the Ashley,” repeated the Commodore. “What are your plans?”

  “We must give them at least two hours,” said Sean, his mind speeding quickly to decisions. “Then we’ll follow with the sloop. Twenty men, fully outfitted. I really doubt that Cornwall’s ships will expect anything. I’m sure most hands will surrender.”

  “1 certainly hope so, Sean, but I would put double the usual number of men on board. I don’t want to lose this bastard!” commented the Commodore bitterly.

  “You won’t. And there’s no need to double the contingent. Cornwall’s men aren’t fighters. They do as they’re told for money, no other reason. One musket ball will be all the convincing they need to lay down their arms. Besides, forty men on the sloop would be an advertisement that something’s happening.”

  Sean took another puff of his cigar. “I won’t lose Cornwall,” he promised fiercely.

  Sean stood and went to the side of the room to retrieve the cane he had borrowed from Chatham as part of his disguise. There were still people in Charleston who would remember the night of Benjamin’s death. He pulled the dark cape from the coat rack and put it over his shoulders. The eyepatch, cape and cane would divert attention from his recognizable features.

  “I’ll take five of your marines with me,” he said as he readjusted the eyepatch. “We’ll leave in half an hour. Have them meet me past the edge of town.”

  “Only five?” asked Captain Mathews.

  “The five, myself, Chatham and one other,” replied Sean.

  “I still don’t think it will be enough,” said the Commodore, offering Sean his hand.

  “It will be,” returned Sean, as he smiled at the weathered face of the older officer.

  “Good luck.”

  “I’ll see you at the rendezvous,” Sean told Mathews as he started out the door.

  When Sean left the Waterfront Inn, he detoured toward the wharf owned by the Cornwall Shipping Company. He wanted to reassure himself that all things were as the Commodore reported.

  Slowing his pace, he leaned heavily on the cane as he neared the front office where he checked the windows. There were only two clerks inside, so with a deep breath, he boldly entered.

  One of the clerks rose from behind the counter. “Can I be of service?” He came toward Sean.

  “Thank you. I’m here to make an inquiry. I’ve recently come to Charleston and am opening an office of my company, Peterson, Smith and Crouger. My name is Randolph Peterson.”

  “A pleasure, Mr. Peterson. How may we be of service?”

  “I was told to speak to James Cornwall. We have a mutual acquaintance who said Mr. Cornwall would be just the man to assist me.”

  The clerk gave a shake of his head “I’m terribly sorry, sir, but Mr. Cornwall is out of town for the next three days. However, if there’s anything I can do for you in the meantime I would be delighted. What is your company’s business?”

  “No, thank you. I’m afraid I’ll just have to wait for Mr. Cornwall. I’ll return on Monday next.” He turned from the clerk with a flourish and left. Sean didn’t bother to use the cane as he sped up his pace on the street. His last doubt had been erased. He knew that Cornwall would either be arriving at Haven tonight or he was already there. He turned onto Chatham’s street. It would soon be over…

  <><><>

  Kira stood on the piazza of Robert Chatham’s house, hidden by the lengthening shadows. She looked out at the street, watching the people who passed by, looking for old friends. In the past hour, she’d seen two people she had known quite well and several others that she’d had acquaintance with in the past. It had taken all her willpower not to call out to them. If only Sean would return! She had an intuition that he would go to Haven tonight and had decided to ask only once more if she could go. If he refused her request, she would lie and accede to his wishes, but when he left she would follow.

  Footsteps echoed on the wooden steps of the piazza, and she stiffened. Then she stepped from the shadows to block Sean’s path. She studied his face as he removed the eyepatch, and she knew!

  “You will take me?” she asked in a hoarse whisper. Sean looked at her for a long moment before his fingers cupped her chin.

  “I cannot. Your presence would hamper me, my love. If anything were to happen to you, I could only blame myself. Please try to understand this,” he asked. He didn’t joke, nor did he tease or order, he spoke only what was in his heart. She nodded, finally understanding that it was really his love for her and nothing else that made him refuse her.

  “Good,” he said softly.

  They walked into the house together, silently climbing the stairs to his room, where he at once began to dress for the night. Kira watched him, unable to take her eyes from his smooth, muscular body. She saw him again as he was on that first night he’d come to her at New Windsor.

  She saw again the way the soft light covered his skin and made the small scar near his side look less ominous. His stomach muscles rippled as he pulled his shirt tight. When he was fully dressed, he came close to her.

  “1 love you, Kira.” He pulled her to her feet and held her tightly against his chest. “We’re made for each other. We must stay together! You must be my wife.” Kira’s heart hammered at his words, but as much as she wanted him, she also wanted her own free choice.

  “Again, you presume too much!” she shot back at him—but her voice was soft. “Do you not think you should ask for me, rather than demand? I am my own woman, and I make my own decisions. Tell me, what do you offer me?”

  Although the words were strong, even harsh, she believed them implicitly. And yet, her heart still tried to force itself from her chest. She loved him and did not want to live without him, but she would not be subservient to him or any other man ever again.

  Sean laughed the deep, wonderful laughter she loved so much. Kira searched his face trying to find out what it was that had amused him.

  “Do you want a partner or a husband?” he finally asked.

  “Both! I want a husband who treats me as his equal. I will not be another of the simpering, mindless idiotic women who live only to breed and pleasure their husbands!”

  “Those women are easy enough to come by,” Sean said, as his face became serious. “Kira, marry me. I love you as I have no other. I want you as my wife, as mother to our children, as my partner in life.”

  Wordlessly, she relaxed into his arms, giving her assent. They kissed, gently rocking together as they clung to each other.

  At last, Sean drew away and looked down at her—at her calm, sea-green eyes and the sweet smile curving her tender mouth. His eyes had a strange look, as if he were unsure of his next words. She waited patiently until he spoke.

  “When this is over,” Sean assured her, “we will make a life that will please you. I will be resigning my commission, and there will be no chance that we cannot grow old together.”

  “Sean…” she reached up to stroke his face. Her strong emotions robbed her of speech but it was clear that his words had finally persuaded her. He kissed her for a long moment before releasing her.r />
  Kira listened to his footsteps as he went downstairs, and then went to the window, just in time to see Sean, Robert and Abraham mount their horses and start away. Kira wiped away a tear with the back of her hand.

  “I love you, my darling,” she whispered to his departing back. “I will be a good wife to you. But first you will have to understand and forgive me.”

  CHAPTER 32

  The low lapping of water against the hull of the sloop was the only sound heard in the darkness. Then a whisper broke the quiet.

  “Signal off port side,” came the disembodied voice of the sailor on watch.

  “Make ready,” called Captain Mathews, signaling to his men. With a skill born of their rigorous training, each group of five marines went over the railings and into the waiting rowboats. The boats glided to the riverbank and, when they landed, were pulled onto the grassy ground where the men gathered around the three who had been waiting.

  Sean, Chatham and Abraham had arrived barely an hour before to scout Haven’s newly constructed dock jutting into the Ashley. It was three times the size of its predecessor. Undoubtedly, Cornwall was not in the least bothered by the fact that it marred the quiet beauty of the stately river.

  When they’d first arrived, they had circled the plantation, checking all the spots that might accommodate fighting men. Everything was peaceful, except at the main house and near the dock.

  The outline of two ships, one docked, the other floating gently a few hundred yards away, presented the men with a strange and majestic picture. Sean and Chatham could not help but admire the efficiency with which the first ship was being loaded. Forty slaves stood in facing rows, supervised by overseers stationed at close intervals with their whips coiled. The slaves passed small barrels of gunpowder, barrels and crates of foodstuff and loose pieces of equipment and supplies along the line. The supplies kept flowing from both the main house and the various storage sheds nearer to the dock.

  Cornwall had cleverly turned the large immaculately maintained plantation into a rambling warehouse, loaded with food, munitions and shipbuilding materials.

  Seeing enough, the three had backed into the palmetto trees. On their return to the rendezvous, where they had left the five marines, they discussed the best method of attack. Abraham, who knew the area best, came up with the best land route, which he would use to guide the platoon of marines.

  He would take them through the now unused rice fields, skirting the water table, using the paths he had traveled daily when he was a field hand carrying sacks of grain. Sean, Chatham and the five marines would return the way they had come in order to seal off the entrances.

  As soon as they returned to the rendezvous, they signaled the sloop while Abraham described the details of the main house’s interior to Sean.

  Sean looked the platoon over as they came on shore, checking their weapons. Each man was armed for combat.

  “We don’t expect any heavy resistance,” he reminded Captain Mathews, “but I approve of your marines’ full battle dress.”

  “Yes, sir,” agreed Mathews. Most of the soldiers carried their flintlock muskets, complete with the long, pointed bayonet. Four of the men carried new smooth-bore weapons without bayonets. These four were the sharpshooters of the platoon, trained to pick off enemies at a distance in order to give their fellow marines a better advantage. The men also carried sabers, knives and one loaded flintlock pistol for hand-to-hand combat.

  Sean’s gaze took in everyone. “Let’s go.”

  Sean and Chatham followed Abraham’s lead into the overgrown palmetto trees. They moved cautiously, trying to make no noise. They were only a mile from Haven.

  At the point of separation, Sean, Chatham and the first five marines waited until the last of Mathews’ men, led by Abraham, passed them. When they reached the house, they would wait for a prearranged signal from Mathews and then hold for a count of two hundred before entering the main house. Sean gave his five soldiers their final orders, and when the signal came, Chatham began to count. When he reached one hundred, Sean signaled the men forward.

  Pulling the heavy pistol from his waist, Sean moved swiftly and silently toward the front door. Chatham skirted the side of the house and Sean counted the final twenty-five to himself.

  The crashing of Sean’s booted foot was timed perfectly with the first volley fired by Captain Mathews’ men. Before the echo had passed, Sean was through the door, rolling across the wooden floor. He jerked upright to a firing position, his eyes searching the room.

  On the level above him, was the jowly wide-eyed face of James Cornwall. Cornwall took two terrified steps backward and another man shoved him brusquely out of the way.

  Sean recognized him barely a second before the man aimed his pistol and fired.

  <><><>

  The yellow eyes of the old owl were the only ones that witnessed the passage of the carriage on the road to Haven. It dashed past, moving unerringly in a straight line. Its driver knew the road intimately and had no fear of its ruts.

  Had anyone been about at that hour, he might have wondered that two youths would be out driving so quickly on so dark a road. A closer inspection would reveal the two to be women in men’s clothing, their hair tied back tightly. The driver sat high, hands held lightly on the reins, as she kept the horses moving swiftly. She wore a rapier, with its belt slung from shoulder to waist, cutting across and between her breasts like a military sash. Under her shirt, the small knife rested in its sheath.

  The other woman wore Robert Chatham’s shirt and breeches. At her waist was a pistol, and she kept one hand on its hilt.

  Francine had never seen anyone as obsessed with revenge as Kira. She had not known anything of Kira’s determination until that evening, when she opened her door to find her friend dressed in her riding breeches and shirt, the rapier slung across her shoulder.

  “You can’t! It’s too dangerous.”

  “There’s no one to stop me,” Kira declared fiercely.

  “Only yourself,” whispered Francine, as she shook her head sadly. “Why are you doing this?”

  “I have to. I have to watch his end. He killed my father. He destroyed my home, he tried to end my life. He has not yet paid the price.” Kira’s face softened. “My uncle is tricky, too tricky. I want to make sure he does not escape his due. And I want to make sure Sean returns to me,” she added finally. For the first time realizing her heightened emotion stemmed from more than revenge.

  “Sean will return,” said Francine confidently.

  “You know my uncle. You know what he and his son were like. Benjamin tried to kill you and almost succeeded. That was his and my uncle’s solution for handling any obstruction of their desires.” Kira reached out and took one of Francine’s hands in hers, pressing it hard.

  “I can see how you feel about Robert. And he loves you,” she said quickly. “I saw it in his face.”

  Francine nodded. “I will stay with him when this is over.”

  “If he returns,” said Kira bitingly. Francine’s dark eyes flew wide at hearing the way Kira voiced her own fears. As if reading her mind, Kira commanded, “Change clothes and meet me at the stable.” Francine went into her room, then stopped and turned back.

  “Kira—” she started, but she changed her mind. She knew nothing she could say would stop the determined woman, and it would be pointless to burden her now with Chatham’s diagnosis. She went to change, promising herself she would watch her friend carefully.

  As Francine studied Kira in the darkness, she saw the woman’s shoulders begin to drop minutely. She was tiring of the long drive.

  “Let me take over for a while.”

  “No. I know the road. Besides, we’re almost there.”

  “When we stop, we’ll walk the rest of the way,” she told Francine. A bare minute later, Kira reined in the horses.

  She was getting ready to jump from the carriage when several loud shots rang out. Before the horses could bolt, Kira grabbed up the reins and settled the
m down.

  “It’s started,” she yelled at Francine, as she urged the horses forward. “No time to walk.”

  Francine watched in tense fascination as Kira forced the tired horses faster, charging through the entrance and galloping past the trees lining the wide grass drive. Random flashes of gunfire lit the night, as individuals fought their desperate battles. Francine grabbed onto the rail when the carriage suddenly slid sideways as Kira fought to control the horses, pulling hard on the brake handle to stop their mad ride. The carriage stopped ten feet from the main entrance, and the two women jumped out to race up the stone stairs to the main door.

  Francine had her pistol cocked and ready. Her nerves screamed, but her hand held the weapon in a steady, iron-bound grip. Kira held the thin rapier in front of her, dashing forward like a French Army officer.

  They charged the main room together in time to see a man topple from the top landing. He crashed at Sean’s feet. The pistol in Sean’s hand was still spewing black-gray smoke as he whirled to face the new intruders.

  <><><>

  It took less than a heartbeat for Sean’s eyes to identify the man on the railing. He pulled his finger back and felt the shock of the ball’s release run through his arm. He lunged sideways, avoiding the ball the man was about to fire. The loud yell of surprise told Sean he’d hit his target, and the muffled thud of a body landing on the hardwood floor confirmed it. Colonel Silas Mortimer, late of the Bermuda Garrison of His Majesty’s Army, lay dead at his feet.

  Sean had come across Mortimer several times in Europe. He was one of the advance people sent in to prepare, assess and then map out the war strategy. That he was here at Haven confirmed the worst of Sean’s fears.

  The noise of booted feet echoed in the hall and he turned his head quickly. The shock he felt when he recognized the two who had just entered robbed him of speech.

  At that moment, Chatham charged in through the back door and then stood frozen as if he had been struck by lightning. It took another second for Sean to tear his eyes from the women and force down his anger. There was no time now for recriminations. Grabbing Chatham’s arm, he began to move to the stairs.