Mystic Mountains

by Tricia McGill

  "But . . ." Isabella didn't know quite how to put it.

  "Come, you can speak plainly with me." Selena smiled encouragingly.

  Isabella cleared her throat again. "Isn't it horrible having to lie with different men? Men you most likely despise?" She thought of the lecher who'd raped her. Just imagining being compliant with the likes of him made her feel sick.

  "Men like Tiger, you mean?" Selena studied her long tinted nails. "Let's face it, Bella, every woman over fifteen in the colony would lie with him given half a chance, no matter how they might deny it indignantly. Now I have Gareth, the sweetest lover a woman could hope for. No, Bella, I'm not a whore or a doxie who plies her wares at the wharf. I'm a woman with brains who sells what most women give for nothing. I'm a woman of quality." She shrugged eloquently. "Tell me honestly, wouldn't you rather be a rich man's mistress than a poor man's drudge?"

  Isabella would sooner be a certain farmer's wife, but that possibility was out of her grasp. She had to agree with this beautiful woman who seemed to have her life well in hand.

  "It's late, Bella. You can stay here until you make up your mind." Selena got up. Staring down at Isabella, she said, "Think about it. I can teach you how to become the most sought-after paramour in the colony. Or you can end up with the dregs, the doxies, the women of the gutter. It's up to you. Sleep on it. But let me tell you, there's not a lot of choice in the colony for a woman like you. Why do you think they bring so many females over here for such petty crimes? I don't know what offence you committed, and don't really care. We were all brought here to service men in one capacity or another. Why not take the easy way out?

  "Now I'll get you a quilt, and if you decide to stay, tomorrow my maid will make up a bed for you alongside hers." As she spoke Selena had snuffed out the candles. Leaving one burning she went to a door at the back of the parlor. After handing Isabella a blanket she said, "Goodnight, Bella."

  "Goodnight. And thank you for letting me stay, Selena."

  Isabella was still wide awake when dawn crept in.

  * * *

  "What do you mean, she's gone?" Tiger stared at Thelma, his heart sinking. "She's gone out for a walk? Gone into town?" He didn't know why he was asking, for he sensed Bella had not gone on some message, not gone off to be alone.

  But gone for good.

  The chit had sneaked off in the night, for God's sake. Why hadn't he foreseen it? A tightness in his chest made him shiver.

  "She wasn't in her bed when I went into her room this morning, Tiger." Thelma twisted her apron between her thin fingers. Tiger had never seen her so agitated. Even when Gillie was sick a couple of years back her face hadn't looked so haggard. Her eyes looked sunken.

  He'd kill the wench for doing this to Thelma. If he ever saw her again. With a groan he contemplated that eventuality. Somehow Isabella had inched her way into a part of him he'd always managed, until now, to keep inviolate.

  "I thought she might be out in the orchard or off with her chickens." Thelma handed him a sheet of writing paper. "But I found this." She folded her arms across her chest and let out a shuddering sigh. "So I went into her room. She's taken her brush and comb and a change of clothes. Bless me but she never had much to take." She choked back a small cry. "And come with me, Tiger. See what I found."

  Tiger stared at the sheet of paper in his hand as he followed her into the small back room. Something gave in him when he looked down on the narrow bed. Lord, would he ever get the taste, smell, and sight of her sweet body, so yielding and passionate beneath his, out of his mind? Drawing in a ragged breath he turned to see Thelma holding a garment.

  "Just look what she did, Tiger."

  "Good God." Thelma held the gown Bella had worn to the ball. The frock she'd loved so much had been hacked to ribbons. "What's the matter with her? What possessed her to do such a thing?"

  "Unhappiness. The poor lass was dying of it." Thelma gazed at him for a moment, then said steadily, "I have to say this, Tiger, though you'll probably want to beat me for it, but you've hurt the girl so much she's been dying by the minute, pining for something she knew was out of her reach. You have a lot to answer for."

  "That's enough, Thelma." It was only the second time he'd shouted at her. "What happened was between Bella and me. She knew the way of things."

  "Knew the way of things did she?" Mutinously Thelma drew her lips together. "What will I do with this?" She gathered up the rags of the ball gown and, face taut with disgust, followed him from the room.

  "I don't care. Burn the bloody thing and let's have an end to it!"

  But in the kitchen he turned to her in appeal. "Where do you suppose she's gone? We can't leave her out there where the likes of Malloy can get their hands on her. I'll ride into town and report she's run away. Have you any ideas, Thelma?"

  "There's her friend Gracie. Perhaps she made for the house where she works. The girl's not been far from the farm to make friends. We're all she has." Thelma flopped down on a chair, the ball gown lying forlornly on her lap. She ran her work worn hands over the shredded fabric.

  "And we'll get her back. Have no fear, Thelma; I'll leave no stone unturned. I'll be away now." He put a hand to her shoulder and squeezed it gently. Thelma stiffened beneath his touch.

  "Women," he muttered as he strode out.

  "Aye, women. What would you men do without them; yet silly sods that you are you have no idea how to handle them."

  Tiger barely heard her. He was already on the way to saddle Satan.

  "I'll ring the wench's bloody neck," he ground out as he rode away. But inside he cringed as he pictured the fate that could quite easily be hers if she'd fallen into the wrong hands. Even now she could be dead and tossed into the sea or the mire. A man only had to drive a small distance from town to dispose of an unwanted body. He rubbed a hand over his face and groaned. This was all due to his lust, and his greed. What sort of man was he? She'd put her trust in him, and he'd abused that trust.

  He made straight for the wharf area. If she'd been picked up by one of the scum from there it would likely be spread thereabouts. Tiger ground his teeth. He'd whip the useless wench for putting him through this. No, he wouldn't. He'd likely pull her so tightly in his arms he'd wring every breath out of her body.

  She had such a beautiful body, with all the curves and dips in just the right places. His dreams had been filled with her since that night he'd made her his. His. By God, she hated the very sight of him, and who could blame her?

  Three hours later Tiger reached the end of his tether. There was no word of her turning up in any of the haunts, no stories of murder being committed and hushed up. It was almost as if Isabella had disappeared off the face of the earth.

  Could she have . . .?

  No, it didn't bear thinking of. She was too stubborn, too tenacious, too proud and courageous to think of taking her own life. How conceited of him to entertain the thought. If all the humiliation of her rape and trial and subsequent transportation hadn't driven her to such an end, then surely his rejection wouldn't make her contemplate it.

  A bitter taste filled his mouth and his head felt full of wool from the rum swallowed in his course of questioning. But that was nothing to the ache of fear and frustration curdling his stomach.

  A search would be mounted for her remains, if the worst came about and she was dead, but naught could be done if she'd decided to melt into the flotsam populating the town. God willing she would turn up at her friend Gracie's place of employment and all would be solved.

  Something deep within warned Tiger this would not be resolved so satisfactorily. Why the bloody hell had he touched her? Damn and blast his idiocy!

  Chapter Eighteen

  Isabella dressed, then bent to pull on her shoes. There was a dull ache in her temples and the bump on the back of her head throbbed a little, but apart from that she felt quite well. Outside. Inside, she felt she would die at any minute from the pain. Why couldn't the horse have done a good job of it and trampled her into the
ground, so ending all her unhappiness?

  Folding the blanket, she bent to take her brush from her bundle. Coiling up her hair she glanced about. The room was more attractive by daylight with the sun streaming in to highlight the well-polished mahogany. There was no doubting Selena had a comfortable home. The gowns Isabella had seen her in were beautiful and she knew from Thelma they were made by the seamstress who clothed the wives and daughters of the gentry.

  "Why, bless me, what you doing 'ere?" a girl of about sixteen asked as she bustled into the parlor. She had a cheeky grin, and a face full of freckles. Mousy hair was tucked beneath a mobcap, and a huge apron with a flounced edge covered her plain frock. "I never 'eard you arrive. I sleeps like a dead 'un, do I." She winked, and Isabella couldn't hold back a smile.

  "I was brought in last night by Lieutenant Moreton," Isabella explained.

  "Brought in by Mr. Gareth? Bless me, brought in from where?" she asked, eyes opened wide so she looked like a baby owl. "'E ain't in the 'abit of bringing along young ladies. 'E's that shy is 'e it's a wonder 'e manages to bring 'imself." She threw her head back and chuckled.

  "His horse knocked me down." Isabella shrugged. "It seems this was the only place he could think to bring me." She thought his actions strange too. Why hadn't he taken her to the doctor's house or the hospital? But she should feel grateful he hadn't simply left her to be picked up by some rogue like the one who'd accosted her.

  "Aye, it would be." The maid's head wagged knowingly. "So, how are you? Did you hurt your leg?" she asked when Isabella got up and walked to the window.

  "My leg?" Isabella peered down at her foot. "Oh no, I already had a limp. I bumped my head." Putting a couple of fingers to the bump, she winced.

  "Bumped yer 'ead, eh? I'm Katie, by the way, what's yer name? An' what were yer doing to get knocked down by an 'orse that time of night, then?"

  "I'm Bella, Katie. Pleased to meet you." Isabella held out a hand and Katie shook it with gusto. Isabella wondered what to tell this girl. She decided to tell her the truth. What could she do anyway? The girl was Selena's servant.

  "I ran away," she confessed.

  Katie looked taken aback for a moment, then grinned. "Oh my, so where you gonna go now?"

  "I have no idea. Selena says I have the looks to be a . . ." She put her fingertips to her temple, pressing at the dull ache there. "The same as her," she finished.

  "A lady of the night, eh?" Katie lowered her voice. "She's right as far as the looks go. You be a beauty, an' that's a fact."

  "Who, me? I'm as plain as a pikestaff."

  "Course you ain't," Katie assured her. "You just need a bit of dressing up an' you'll 'ave all the swaggering young bloods chasing yer, an' that's a fact."

  "Don't be daft. If I was as pretty as you say I am, then I'd be betrothed now to the man who . . ."

  "Man who bedded yer?" Katie asked gently. "Lord, but looks don't 'ave naught to do with that. You a con?" Isabella nodded. "Well, if it was yer master, 'e'd take it as 'is due, now wouldn't 'e?"

  Isabella grimaced faintly. His due? Ye gods, if Tiger Carstairs got his due, he'd be dead and buried now, the scurrilous devil.

  "I only wish I 'ad the looks." Katie sighed as she shook her head. "Why give a man what 'e should pay for, eh? If Mistress Drake promised to teach yer the rules, then I'd take 'er up on the offer. What other choices do us cons 'ave, eh? I think meself lucky I didn't end up with no son of a bastard who treats 'is women no better than animals. I gets clean clothes on me back an' a belly full every day. What more could a girl ask, eh?"

  "Love, perhaps? Don't you want a husband and children one day, Katie?"

  "Love? Cripes, why should the likes of us expect such a fanciful thing? When I gets me ticket of leave I'm gonna try an' get a job in the Guvner's 'ouse, working for 'is lady." She gave a great sigh. "Take me advice, Bella, let the madam help yer, an' you won't look back. Now, I have to get 'er breakfast. Come with me an' I'll show you where everything is. You can 'elp yerself."

  Left alone in the small scullery off the parlor Isabella contemplated her options. Katie was right. Why give something you could be paid for. Nodding, she made up her mind. Perhaps she'd get a gentleman like Lieutenant Gareth Moreton, one of the nicest men she'd ever met. Then again she might get an arrogant gent like Tiger Carstairs. What a lark that would be if he turned up as one of her customers. He'd stew in his own juice if he had to pay her for what he considered his by right. The arrogant swine, may he rot in hell.

  Yes, she would stay. And in time she'd become the highest paid courtesan in the colony, so sought after that when Tiger Carstairs begged for her favors she would send him packing. Just for a moment she allowed herself to recall the splendor of his lovemaking, then with a determination born of desperation she shrugged those thoughts aside and hardened her heart.

  * * *

  Tiger sprawled on a chair and rubbed his nape. "I don't know what else I can do, Thelma," he said wearily. "If you can think of something worthwhile, then tell me. She's apparently disappeared off the face of the earth. The Aborigines have been helping in the search. If her body is out there they would have found some trace of it by now." The thought of Bella's beautiful body lying crumpled and perhaps mutilated in some lonely spot had given him nightmares.

  "We can only assume someone is sheltering her or she's being held prisoner." That thought, distasteful as it was, was infinitely more reassuring than the alternative. "But I'm sure if that was the case I would have heard a sniff of it by now." Tiredly he ran his hands over his face. There was a continual ache in his gut these days when he imagined the fate she could have met.

  "You can't give up the search," Dougal insisted roughly.

  Tiger raised his brows as he looked over to where the lad sat broodingly staring at his hands resting on the table in front of him.

  At least Dougal was speaking to him now. After Isabella had been gone a week they'd come close to blows arguing over her welfare. Dougal accused him of forcing her out. Tiger couldn't argue with that. Dougal had been doing a bit of searching on his own time, coming home some nights well after midnight, exhausted and defeated.

  "You must face up to it, Dougal, she may be dead by now," Gillie said in a kindly voice.

  "She's not." Dougal thumped a fist on the table. "I know she's out there somewhere. Like the time Malloy took her off. I swear to God I'll find her if he can't." He sent a sneer Tiger's way.

  Tiger stood, scraping the chair on the floor as he pushed it back roughly. "Come on, we'll go into town together this night. Mayhap we'll hear some new snippet. But it's been two months now." He spread his arms in a hopeless gesture. "I for one have begun to dread . . ."

  "No!" Dougal jumped to his feet, glowering. "We'll find her."

  But after the pair of them visited most of the brothels, taverns, and bars on the waterfront, and questioned whalers, sealers, sailors, and other inhabitants of the town, it became clear this night's search was to be as fruitless as the others.

  Tiger wasn't sure if Dougal had any clear idea of why Isabella fled. It was cowardly of him, but he wasn't about to let him know the real reason. Dougal hated him; truth was he didn't blame him. He wasn't particularly fond of himself.

  "Let's go home," he suggested, when the sun was peeping over the horizon, heralding the start of a new day. "There are animals to be tended."

  Tight-lipped, Dougal nodded.

  Chapter Nineteen

  March 1819

  "Hey, yer look grand, Bella." Katie grinned as she inspected Isabella, who quaked in her new silk shoes. "Yer look like a princess from one of them fairy tales. Yer better looking by far than most of them fancy ladies who flaunt themselves around town." The chirpy maid giggled as she hoisted her chin and walked back and forth with a wiggle of her hips. "Now, just keep yer pretty chin in the air like the missus taught yer an' hold yer shoulders straight like this. Yer'd pass fer a lady in any company, an' that's no story I'm spinning yer."

  "Thanks for the assuran
ce, Katie." Isabella's voice shook, along with her body.

  Taking a last quick look in the long mirror she tugged on a curl artfully brought from the cluster Katie had secured on the crown of her head, then straightened her spine.

  "Oh Katie—I don't recognize myself," she wailed.

  "Lor' sakes, neither should yer. The missus 'as been very careful to make yer into a different woman. An' this new woman is lovely, an' that's a fact." Katie fussed with the flounce around the hem of Isabella's gown. "A real lady."

  Isabella couldn't argue with her. But this new woman she'd become was a fraud. The many petticoats beneath the silk gown rustled as she walked across the room she had shared with Katie for over two months now. "I can't say I like wearing a corset, Katie." Isabella put a hand to her middle, frowning as she took a couple of deep breaths.

  Katie gave her a long-suffering look as Isabella opened the door and went into the parlor. "Don't she look a sight for sore eyes, Missus?" Katie crowed, trailing after her.

  "Yes, Katie, she certainly does look grand." Selena was pulling on elbow-length gloves of a delightful pink that matched her dress. "Cheer up, Bella. This night will be perfect, have no fear. Just smile now and then, all right?" Her perfectly shaped brows arched at Isabella's frown.

  "I don't feel grand, Selena. I feel like one of those fancy birds with the long tail feathers that prance about showing off. This gown is too tight. I hate showing off my bosom. The corset stops my breath and makes my stomach hurt. Do I have to have the neckline so low?" Isabella scowled fiercely down at the curve of her breasts, practically bouncing out of the bodice.

  "Nonsense. You have a perfect pair of breasts, tantalizing enough to stir the blood of any male." Selena ran a finger over Isabella's crinkled forehead. "But for tonight all you have to do is stir Fergus's blood. And gain the interest of a host of bored soldiers. With a bit of luck you'll snare a major or a captain at your first outing and be set up for the next year. Now, show me the look from beneath lowered lids I taught you," she ordered. "And for sweet heaven's sake take that scowl off your face; you'll end up lined before you're thirty."