The Irish Rogue

by Judith E. French

  "If Abraham knows what's needed, I can give the orders," O'Ryan replied. "I suppose you've heard that the plantation is in financial trouble."

  The younger man nodded. "It's common knowledge. Everyone knew Anne's father was living beyond his means."

  "Everyone but us."

  "James worried so much about providing an adequate dowry for Mary. When he told me what he gave her as a wedding gift, I was shocked. With tobacco prices falling and the competition from Virginia, most of us are land poor. Farming is always a gamble, but James was an optimist. He took chances, thinking he'd make the money back."

  A horsefly buzzed around the gelding's head. The animal snorted and pawed the grass, arching his neck as Nate curbed his urge to bolt. Despite his thickening middle, Nathaniel Greensboro was a superb horseman with a firm but gentle hand on the reins. O'Ryan thought that you could tell a man's character by the way he rode, and he liked Nate immensely.

  "I'm serious about loaning you Taylor," the younger man continued. "He'd be invaluable under the circumstances."

  "I can't argue that your overseer would know more than I do, but Anne and I are cutting expenses until my funds from Ireland arrive. We appreciate your concern, but we'll make do."

  "You're the best judge of what's right for Gentleman's Folly," Nate said. "Just remember, we're here for you if you need help." Nathaniel shook O'Ryan's hand and turned his mount for home.

  O'Ryan went back into the house. When they'd come back from Annapolis late yesterday, he'd slept in his separate room. He fully intended to put an end to that nonsense tonight.

  If he and Anne were going to survive, they needed a united front. He wanted her in his bed. He didn't feel whole without her.

  He hoped she felt the same.

  He found Anne in the dining room discussing the coming week's meals with Ivy. Abraham's light-skinned wife seemed shy. O'Ryan hadn't heard her string three words together. He hoped that she would be up to the job of running a large household.

  "I've asked Ivy to take an inventory of all the foodstuffs,"

  Anne explained as the new housekeeper retreated to the kitchen. "Aunt Kessie managed all the supplies for the staff and outside help as well as the family. I'm going to do that myself as soon as I find out what's here. Obviously, we'll have to live on what we have. I can't make any more purchases on credit, and I want to save what hard cash we have."

  Anne was garbed all in black. The mourning dress should have made her stiff and doleful. Instead, the stark color brought out the flush of her cheeks and made him ache to peel away her bodice and nestle against her sweet bare skin. He wanted desperately to throw her back across the breakfast table and make passionate love to her amid the fine linen and silver plate. Instead, he ground his teeth together, drew in a shallow breath, and shifted to ease the pressure on his loins. "Ivy seems terrified of me," he ventured, torturing himself by attempting normal conversation. "Did I do something to—?"

  "No." Anne moved closer and lowered her voice.

  O'Ryan's mouth went dry. He could smell her, all clean and lavender. God, but he wanted her!

  "I don't know how the servants know that Papa spent all the money, but they do." She shrugged and gestured hopelessly.

  Only a few nights ago, those soft hands had stroked him, cupped his sack, and teased his cock to swollen need.

  "Ivy asked me if I was going to sell her and Abraham together."

  "What?" What had she said about selling?

  "Ivy asked if I meant to sell her and Abraham to the same buyer," she repeated.

  That tore him from his lustful daydreaming. "Sell them?" O'Ryan felt his ire rising as he stared at her in disbelief. "We're not selling anybody. I hope you told her that that was ridiculous."

  Anne sank into a chair, her dark eyes haunted, her features a mask of grief. "How could I tell her that? I don't know what's going to happen. If we lose the plantation, our creditors will sell our people to the highest bidder."

  "We're not going to let that happen."

  She covered her mouth with her hand and made a small sound of distress. He went to her and put his arm around her. "I'm not a monster," she murmured. "I care about Ivy and Abraham and young Daniel. I care about all of them. Most were born here. I can't bear the thought that families might be separated."

  "The hell they will!"

  Her eyes teared up, and she worried at a thumbnail already chewed to the quick. "What can we do, Michael?" She picked restlessly at the folds of her gown. "I suppose I can try to borrow money from my brother-in-law if he and Mary ever get here. Lord knows, George is rich as Croesus. But I'm not his favorite person. He might refuse me."

  "We don't need George's money. I'll find a way, Anne. You have to trust me. I'll protect you and your people." He'd do it if he had to turn highwayman, he thought. She'd had enough heartbreak. He didn't intend to see her lose her home as well.

  "Don't you have any assets of your own?" she asked.

  "No. I sent the last of what I had to Kathleen. I'm bringing her to America."

  Anne gasped in surprise. "Your father's ward? You've asked her here?"

  "No, not here, Baltimore. And she'll be traveling with her small son and a companion, Blanche Tully." He gripped Anne's shoulders with both hands. "I should have told you. I didn't think I'd be here when she—"

  "I see." Her back straightened and her chin went up. The hurt look in her eyes made his gut clench, but he released her and stepped back, giving her space.

  "And her husband? Will he be coming too?"

  O'Ryan folded his arms across his chest. "Kathleen has never been married."

  "Oh." Anne steepled her hands thoughtfully. "I see."

  "No, you don't." He gestured impatiently. "Please, don't judge her. Kathleen means a great deal to me. We are as close as any brother and sister."

  "I'm hardly in a position to condemn another woman for a folly I was guilty of, am I?" Anne asked softly. "But why bring her to Baltimore? Why didn't you invite her here to Gentleman's Folly?"

  "I sent the passage money before your father died. I thought... You have to understand about Kathleen," he said. "I feel responsible for her. I am responsible. She has no one else."

  Anne's jaw tightened. For brief seconds he studied her face, but it was impossible to read what she was thinking.

  Anne got to her feet. It was obvious to him that she was disturbed by the news, but he couldn't guess the reason. Surely not jealousy?

  "Why did you come to America without her if she depends on you?"

  "It was impossible to bring Kathleen and the child then. I wanted to establish myself, to have a home to bring them to." And there was the small matter of my being pursued by the king's army, he thought wryly. His departure from the Emerald Isle had been irregular, to say the least.

  "What if we still have no money when they arrive in Baltimore?" Anne asked. "How will you support them?"

  "I haven't thought that far yet. I suppose I could bring them here, if you wouldn't object to extending your hospitality."

  Anne nibbled at her bottom lip. "Is there any reason why I shouldn't?"

  Damn, but he did detect jealousy beneath those auburn curls. He touched her arm. "You've no need to worry about Kathleen," he assured her. "I love her, true enough, but it's a brother's affection, nothing more or less."

  "Why would I be concerned?" She frowned. "If she means so much to you—"

  "Then you don't mind if they come here?"

  "Of course not." She averted her gaze and stepped away briskly. "Your family is welcome here so long as we are—business partners. It was just the money I was concerned about. When I'm terrified that I won't be able to hold on to our people..."

  "I give you my word. No matter what happens, I won't let anyone sell your slaves or split up their families."

  "I wish I could believe that, Michael."

  "You can. And you'll like Kathleen. Everyone does. And Blanche looks after the child. He'll be no trouble for you."

 
"Then you must bring them here," she said. "A perfect solution for everyone." But the expression in her eyes told him that she thought otherwise.

  * * *

  Ivy pushed open the heavy wooden door to the smokehouse and stepped inside, pulling the leather tie behind her. It took a minute for her eyes to adjust to the darkness in the windowless cabin. The dirt floor was hard-packed and cool under her bare feet, and the air was heavy with the pungent scents of sage and brown sugar and smoked meat.

  Carefully, she circled the pit in the center of the structure. The ashes were cold. There had been no fire here for years, but the old hearth might contain nails. Ivy didn't want to put one through her foot like she had last fall, or get herself so dirty that she'd have to wash before she went back into the big house.

  It was quiet here. The thick hand-hewn walls shut out the sounds of chickens, dogs, and children. She couldn't hear that red-and-white heifer—the one that was dropping her first calf in the barnyard—lowing. And she could barely feel the rhythms of old Henry's drum.

  Ivy had been so excited when she found out that Miz Greensboro had sold her to Master James that she'd near burst with joy. Seeing Abraham every day, sleeping in his bed at night, seemed the answer to all her prayers. Coming to Gentleman's Folly hadn't been like leaving home, even though she'd been born on Greensboro Hall and had two sisters there. She was close enough to walk over and visit on Sundays, and if she went to the top of the house and looked out an attic window, she could see the roof of her old home.

  No, being sent here was the best thing that had ever happened to her, next to being the lawful wife of Abraham Washington. Her heart swelled as she remembered the young priest who'd said the words over them. No jumping the broom for her and Abraham. Master James had been that set on having his people married by a man of God. When the Methodist minister had put up a fuss, Master James had taken the two of them to the Catholics at Chestertown. She even had a ring that Abraham had hammered out of an old horseshoe nail, and to Ivy's way of thinking, it was as pretty as the gold one on Miss Anne's finger.

  Ivy had been certain she'd be happy at Gentleman's Folly, but she'd no sooner got here than she'd heard whispers that the Davis slaves were going to be auctioned off to pay the mortgage on the land. She and Abraham had set up half the night talking about what might happen, and he'd been so angry that she hadn't wanted to tell him her news.

  How could a thing be good and bad at the same time? She'd known how Abraham felt. She had never agreed to what he said, but she hadn't wanted to fight with him, especially not when they got to see so little of each other. Now he had to be told, and she was scared to do it.

  "Ivy?"

  Hearing Abraham's voice when she was thinking about him so hard nearly made her heart jump out of her chest. "I'm here," she whispered.

  There was a quick crack of light when the door opened. She caught a glimpse of her husband's broad shoulders and close-cropped hair. Then he stepped inside, and the smokehouse was dark again.

  "Ivy."

  She flung herself into his arms. She'd seen him just before dawn, when she'd cooked up a mess of johnnycakes and sausage for his breakfast, but it didn't matter. She was too crazy for him not to wrap herself around him every time they were alone.

  Abraham made a sound that might have been her name and crushed her against him. He kissed the top of her head, then her face, and finally her mouth. "Did she say anything to you?" he asked breathlessly, when they stopped kissing to breathe.

  He smelled as though he'd been working hard, a good smell that always made her feel proud inside. She swallowed the lump in her throat and ran exploring fingers up his throat and over his clean-shaven face. Abraham wasn't a hairy man, but what whiskers he had were steely. She loved the way his bristling cheeks felt against her naked skin.

  "Miss Anne," he urged. "Did she say anything?"

  Ivy drew in a ragged breath. Her heart was thumping fast. She didn't want to talk about Miss Anne or her new husband. She wanted to tell Abraham what had been laying heavy on her mind for weeks.

  "I got a little Abraham growin' in my belly," she said, all in one gulp before she lost her nerve. "I know you won't like it that I'm caught, but I don't care. I want your child. And I want you to want it like I do."

  "Sweet Jesus."

  For a few seconds, he let her go, and she was standing there all alone in the dark. "Please be glad," she said. Tears welled up in her eyes. If he blamed her, she didn't know what she'd do.

  "It's all right, sugar." He drew her back into his embrace, and suddenly it was all right. They were hugging and kissing and both talking at the same time. "I'll make it all right," he promised.

  "It's a boy, I know it's a boy."

  "Boy or girl, it don't matter."

  "Boy first, that's what the old ones say. A black boy's life is a hard row, but a girl child's is harder."

  He hugged her until she could hardly get air, rocking her, making her feel safe and protected with his strong body standing between her and worry.

  "Now tell me what you heard," he said after a while.

  "How do you know I heard them say anything?"

  "I need to know, Ivy. I've got to get back to the shop. I'm fixing a wheel for the gig. If Mr. O'Ryan comes looking for it, I'd best be there."

  "Well, I was talking to the missus, and he come in. I went in the kitchen, but I listened at the door. She said, 'How do they know?' And then something about how I was afraid of being sold apart from you."

  "And what did he say?"

  "He said he wasn't lettin' anybody get sold, but she said maybe they couldn't stop it. She said that if they take the plantation, we're all gonna be sold off anyway."

  "We're not staying here long enough for that to happen." Abraham's voice was so deep and low; it might have been the rush of the river.

  "What you saying?" she demanded.

  "I won't have my child a slave, and I won't lose you. We're going north, sugar, north to Canada, where we can start over free."

  "Run away?" She went cold inside. "They'll send men after us. They'll catch us, and then—"

  "They won't catch us," he said softly. "One way or another, we're going to be free, you, me, and our child you're carrying."

  * * *

  "This looks wonderful." O'Ryan replied as he pulled out a chair for Anne to sit down. The dining-room table was set with a simple dinner for two, fresh vegetables, steamed fish, hot biscuits, and crab cakes. He sat across from her and unfolded his napkin.

  Anne motioned to one of the twins to pour drinks, apple cider for her and ale for O'Ryan. "That will be all," she said. "I'll call if I want anything more before dessert."

  She offered a simple grace, and then smiled at O'Ryan as he passed her the bread. "How do the fields look?"

  "Abraham says it will be a good crop if the worms don't get it or the weather doesn't turn on us. It looks fine and green to me, but I'm a poor judge of tobacco. Until a few months ago, I didn't know a tobacco plant from a shock of corn."

  She laughed. How natural it felt to be sitting here with him, talking over plantation matters like any husband and wife. If only there weren't so many unknowns about Michael O'Ryan, so many reasons to be suspicious. She genuinely liked him, and what had happened between them in his bedchamber had been exhilarating. If only she could trust her own judgment. Unfortunately, she couldn't.

  "Anne?"

  "Oh yes, sorry," she murmured. "I was thinking of something. What did you say?"

  He smiled at her, and her pulse quickened. Sweet salvation, but he was handsome. The slight dent in the bridge of his nose, the tiny scar on his chin only made him more masculine, more attractive to her way of thinking.

  "There's something I wanted to ask you about. I'd like to take the sloop to Baltimore later this week. I want to look for Sean Cleary and his family. They're supposed to be in Baltimore. I want to bring them here to live."

  "More guests?" Anne looked doubtful. "I'm not certain this is the right time.
We have limited supplies, and I don't know when we can restock our foodstuffs. Mary and her husband will surely be arriving any day and—"

  "Sean Cleary won't be a guest. I intend on giving him a job here. He's a skilled carpenter and woodwright. He and his wife Nora are both hard workers."

  She put down her fork. "We simply don't have the funds to hire—"

  "Sean will work for a roof over his head and food. Conditions are bad for newcomers in the cities. If I'm staying indefinitely, I want to find something for him here. I noticed that there's an empty cottage on the far side of the orchard. We can fix that up for him."

  "But that place hasn't been lived in for years. There are holes in the floor and the roof is in shambles."

  "Aye, but the walls are solid brick. I told you, Sean's a carpenter. A few days under his hammer and you won't know the place."

  "I wish you'd discuss these things with me before you make up your mind," she said. She felt as though O'Ryan was taking plantation matters out of her hands. First his Kathleen, and now the Clearys.

  "I didn't ask you about Kathleen because I didn't think it was any of your concern. But I'm asking now. Sean came over from Ireland on the same ship as I did. It was a voyage cursed with storms and sickness. Sean and Nora saved my life."

  "So, what you're telling me is, I have no say in whether you hire them or not?"

  "You do have a say. I wouldn't bring them here if I thought they'd be more of a burden to you." He looked into her eyes. "I don't blame you for being cautious, Annie. I haven't given you a lot of reason to trust me. But Sean is a decent man. He deserves a chance."

  "All right." She took a sip of the cider and gave in gracefully. "Since you put it that way. I don't mean to be miserly. It's just that I'm afraid. I've never been without money before."

  Catching her hand he held it for long seconds. Then he lifted and turned her palm to tenderly kiss the pulse at the underside of her wrist. "Fortunately, Mrs. O'Ryan, this is an area about which I know much. You might say that I'm an expert."