Silverswept

by Linda Ladd

  Chapter 21

  Lieutenant Jeremy MacBride arrived in New York in late January for a month's furlough, and it was with a good deal of anticipation that he crunched a path up the snow-packed walk of his eldest brother's town house at the corner of Wall and William streets. He kicked the bricked stoop to rid his knee-high black boots of snow, then entered the foyer without pulling the bell. He grinned when he saw his sister passing through to the parlor.

  "Hello there, beautiful,” he called. Olivia looked quickly around as he swept off his military hat with a flourish and bowed low before her. Her first surprise turned into pure delight.

  "Jeremy!” she exclaimed, running to hug the youngest of her tall brothers. “I thought you'd never come home again!"

  Jeremy laughed, holding her back to look at her. “I just arrived from Fort Niagara, and let me tell you, you're a sight for sore eyes! But what are you doing in town in the dead of winter? Katie's not sick, is she?"

  There was no need for an answer to that question, because the little girl in question came sliding down the staircase banister, two spaniel puppies romping behind her. Her feet hit the floor, and she was three steps toward the kitchen before she caught sight of her long-absent uncle near the front door. She changed her course and came toward him at a run, squealing his name, the dogs yipping at her heels.

  Jeremy laughed with delight and swung her up into his arms, eliciting more screams of pleasure. But as he hugged the child close, his brown eyes questioned her mother.

  Olivia smiled. “There have been quite a few changes around here since your last leave."

  "So I see,” Jeremy replied, placing Katie on her feet, then tugging playfully on one of her fiery pigtails. “Could Donovan's new wife have anything to do with it?"

  Olivia nodded. “Yes, indeed, she does. She and Katie are the best of friends, aren't you, Katie?” Katie nodded, examining with interest the long sword hanging from Jeremy's belt, and Olivia went on. “As a matter of fact, Alysson's the one who insisted that we spend the winter here when Donovan insisted that she stay in town with him instead of over at Wildwood."

  "I see,” Jeremy said, already liking his new sister-in-law for her kindness to his sister and his niece. “Is she around now? I'd certainly like to meet the girl who got old Donovan to give up all his fun with the ladies."

  "She's gone for a walk, I think,” Olivia said, looking at her daughter. “Katie, why don't you run into the kitchen and have Carla bring tea for us, then bundle up and see if you can find Alysson."

  "Yes, ma'am,” Katie cried and was gone at a galloping run, the puppies skidding on the polished floor in an attempt to turn the corner at the end of the hall. Olivia and Jeremy smiled after her, Jeremy shaking his head.

  "I can't believe that's the same little girl who bade me good-bye two years ago. I could barely get her to look at me then."

  "I know, isn't it wonderful? And I truly do credit Alysson for most of the change in her. But come, let's go into the parlor where it's warmer."

  She took his heavy army cape of dark blue wool, hanging it upon the brass coat tree beside the door, then followed him into the parlor. She watched fondly as he moved to the fire and held his palms out to the warmth, thinking he looked more like their father with each passing year. He had the same black hair and brown eyes, but it was especially his wide dimpled smile and easy laugh that endeared him to her. He was certainly the most fun-loving of her brothers, and she had missed him very much.

  "Tell me about this wondrous woman named Alysson, if you will,” he demanded with a grin. “Very strange rumors have made their way to me all the way out to Niagara. And it's a good thing too, since Donovan, blast him, never even thought to tell me that he was married. I wouldn't know anything if it hadn't been for your letter. Except for one courier who said Donovan had been in a duel over her, but I found that hard to believe, knowing the way Donovan feels about dueling."

  Olivia met his eyes. “It is true, I'm afraid. He had no choice, really. Douglas Compton forced him into it."

  "And was it Donovan's wife's fault?"

  Jeremy frowned with disapproval as he asked, and Olivia was quick to defend her sister-in-law from the same censure she herself had felt toward Alysson when she had first arrived at Wildwood.

  "It's a long story. I blamed her at first too, until I got to know her better. I know you'll like her as much as the rest of the family does."

  She paused as tea was carried in by one of the maids. Jeremy moved to the window as Olivia sat down before the silver tea set, carefully pouring the fragrant brew into two white porcelain cups.

  "Donovan has changed a lot too, Jeremy. And for the better, I think. He's not quite so ... well, he's not quite so sober anymore."

  Jeremy laughed at the word she had settled on and took the cup she offered him. “His wife has driven him to drink, has she?"

  "No, of course not,” Olivia answered quickly, smiling. “He's just become more domestic, is all."

  Jeremy laughed again. “Domestic? Donovan? I'll have to see that to believe it.” He took a sip of his tea, then lowered it with a grin as he saw Donovan's tall, erect figure moving briskly up the walk, the ever-efficient Lionel Roam hurrying to keep apace with his long strides.

  "It doesn't look to me as if he's changed very much. Look, there he is now, his secretary following him around like a trained puppy."

  A different movement caught Jeremy's eyes then, and he watched with interest as a small figure in a bright scarlet cloak ran around the tall hedge behind Donovan and Lionel Roam. His mouth dropped a degree as the newcomer let loose a snowball with enough accuracy to topple Donovan's tall beaver hat from his head.

  "Good God, Olivia, is that her'? Donovan will kill her!"

  "Oh, no he won't,” Olivia said, watching with a knowing smile.

  Jeremy wasn't nearly so sure, his own experience reminding him that Donovan wasn't one to indulge in such lighthearted play. He watched Donovan whip around as Alysson turned and fled in the opposite direction. To Jeremy's astonishment, Donovan handed his walking cane to Lionel Roam and took off after the fleeing girl.

  "I don't believe it,” Jeremy said incredulously. “I just don't believe it. Donovan? In a snowball fight? He wouldn't even take time to do that when we were boys!"

  "I told you,” Olivia said, laughing at his expression.

  Lionel Roam disappeared around the side of the house, but those watching from the window were more interested in Donovan as he caught up with his scarlet clad attacker and tackled her with enough force to send them both tumbling headlong into a snowdrift. Jeremy laughed aloud.

  "I'll be damned,” he said. His grin widened, for Donovan was holding her down now, obviously exacting a penalty for her audacity. From the way it looked, Jeremy had little doubt about what Donovan wanted from her. He chuckled again as Donovan helped his wife to her feet, gently brushing snow off her hair and cloak. When they started for the front door together, Jeremy moved to meet them, more eager than ever to see his brother again.

  Just inside the front door, Alysson found herself held tightly in Donovan's arms again, and she laughed softly as he pressed her back against the wall with his hard body, his lips warm and dry against her cold face.

  "Since no one's around, I'll take part of my revenge now,” he threatened in a husky voice. Alysson pressed herself against him, rather enjoying his brand of punishment. Perhaps she should meet him every day with snowball in hand, she thought happily, as his embrace tightened and one hand found its way beneath her skirts.

  "Ahem,” came the exaggerated sound of a throat being cleared. Alysson's face flamed with embarrassment when she realized a tall man, a complete stranger, had been observing them from the parlor door. Donovan's face broke into a welcoming grin, and he released her, striding forward to greet the man.

  "Jeremy! Damn, but it's good to see you! Welcome home!” he said, pumping his brother's hand, then pounding him hard on the shoulder.

  While they were engaged wi
th their greetings, Alysson took the opportunity to straighten her cloak and rebutton her bodice, her cheeks still hot from being caught in such a wanton display by the brother-in-law she had not yet met. She had no more time to make herself presentable, for almost at once Donovan was beside her, drawing her toward his brother.

  "Alysson, this is my youngest brother, Jeremy. The one detailed at Fort Niagara. You've heard us speak of him."

  She could see the resemblance now, of course—the well-turned, even features and curly dark hair—and she thought he looked very handsome in his army uniform with its gold epaulettes and brass buttons.

  "Yes, I've wanted to meet you for a long time,” she began, surprised when he took her fingers and bent low to kiss them. Jeremy looked at her then, amazed at how young she was, younger than any other woman his sophisticated oldest brother had ever been known to court. He smiled.

  "And I have heard much more about you. I only wish the men in my command could aim their muskets with as much accuracy as you wield a ball of snow."

  Alysson blushed to think he had seen that too, but Donovan laughed heartily.

  "You will have to take lessons from her yourself, if I remember your aim from the last time we went shooting together!"

  A moment later, Alysson excused herself to dress for the evening meal, pausing on the stairs to watch them go into Donovan's study together. She was still rather humiliated over the things Jeremy had seen, but when suppertime arrived, and Brace joined them as well, she felt very comfortable in the family circle. As she looked around the elegant, candlelit table with its imported porcelain and stemmed glassware where Olivia sat with her three handsome brothers, Alysson was very proud to be a MacBride. She grew warm with pleasure each time Donovan took her hand or included her in the conversation. Mostly they spoke of Brace's plans to sail to New Orleans to view the plantation he had acquired there, and of Jeremy's news from the Great Lakes and Fort Niagara.

  It was much later after Alysson and Olivia had retired to their respective bedchambers, that the three men sat around the desk in Donovan's study, enjoying their cigars and a bottle of fine French brandy.

  Brace's blue eyes gleamed with devilment as he sipped his potent drink.

  "From what I hear, Jeremy, this is the latest old Donovan has stayed up since Christmas Day, and I suppose it's your arrival that's kept him up past his very early bedtime hour. I believe he wouldn't be above retiring at noon if propriety would sanction it."

  Jeremy laughed, and Donovan gave a good-natured shrug as he leaned forward to light a narrow cheroot on the candle before him.

  "You're just jealous of my good fortune,” he murmured, puffing the cigar into flame. His brothers smiled.

  "She's a beautiful lady, big brother,” Jeremy agreed. “There's not a man with red blood in his veins who would deny that."

  Brace laughed to himself at Donovan's smug, self-satisfied look, remembering the way it had been between Alysson and Donovan aboard the Halcyone. A black widow, he had called her, but he did not remind his brother of those less happy days. Instead, he spoke of the war.

  "Was there much talk of war at Niagara?” he asked Jeremy.

  Jeremy nodded. “They want it, all up and down the Ohio Valley especially. They want the land north of the border, and they want to end the Indian trouble down there. Tecumseh and his Shawnees are in league with General Brock in Canada, now that Harrison beat them at Tippecanoe last fall."

  Silence prevailed for a moment, then Donovan looked at Brace. “You just returned from Boston. What's the political climate up there?"

  "They're threatening to hold back their militias if Madison declares war against Britain, but we expected that. They say Bonaparte's behind it anyway, and they fear him a lot more than they do England."

  "The Corsican doesn't have designs on us,” Donovan said. “But I agree that we're not prepared for a war, with either one of them."

  "War is inevitable,” Brace replied fervently. “The British treat us like a bastard orphan brother and always have. I, for one, am sick of being pushed around. You were too when they stopped the Halcyone."

  "They stopped the Halcyone? When?” Jeremy inquired, frowning. Brace told him, anger tightening his jaw even in the retelling of it.

  "But it won't happen again,” he finished. “I have her armed and ready now, and the day war is declared, I'll be the first privateer out of port."

  "Our last intelligence set the British Navy at six-hundred-men-of-war, and more than a hundred of those are ships of the line, first-class fighting machines,” Donovan reminded him again. “We have next to none, and you can take my word for it that Congress won't be enthusiastic about building more, even if they could afford to."

  Jeremy nodded. “If we are to win a war, it will have to be a land war, an invasion of Canada. If we can take Lower Canada, it would cut off the supply routes to Upper Canada, but we'll need more regulars for that, especially if the Indians ally themselves with Brock. I hate to say it, but we're sadly lacking in leaders, too. Most of our generals are old men who fought in the Revolution."

  Donovan agreed. “Adam's been feeding the British exaggerated troop strengths as well as other false military information, just in case Madison is forced to declare. And if Henry Clay's support continues to grow, he won't have much choice."

  "Does Compton have any suspicions about Adam?” Brace asked, and Jeremy noted how Donovan went tense at the mere mention of the man's name.

  "No, and as long as he trusts Adam, we have a chance to feed him information that will help us if we do invade Canada. Adam says the Park Theater is a veritable nest of British spies, and both he and Rosalie have picked up all kinds of valuable information there in the past few months."

  "Who is this Adam?” Jeremy asked, not familiar with the name.

  "I met him when I served my time at Niagara. He hated the British even then, and for good reason, I found out later. They sold him into indenture in New South Wales, and he spent nearly a decade trying to buy his freedom. I trust him without question. That's why I recruited him to help us."

  They talked a bit longer about the coming war, then reminisced about some of their past escapades together. But as the evening lengthened, Jeremy and Brace began to notice Donovan's frequent glances at the pendulum clock in the corner. To their amusement, it wasn't overly long before he stood and stretched.

  "It grows late, so I'll bid you both good night. We'll talk again tomorrow."

  After he had left with eager tread to join his lovely young wife, Brace and Jeremy exchanged a smile.

  "You can't blame him,” Jeremy commented, draining his brandy.

  "No, Alysson would make any man eager for bed."

  Their eyes met, and Jeremy grinned.

  "Does Madame Bartholomew still have her house down on Pearl Street?"

  Brace smiled, remembering with vivid detail the many times he and his brothers had visited that highclass establishment and sampled the considerable charms of its ladies.

  "I believe she does, little brother,” he said, crushing out his cheroot. “And since you've just spent a long, lonely winter at a fort full of ugly-faced recruits, I should think those lovely ladies would be a welcome change for you."

  "Welcome, indeed,” Jeremy said, standing. “Welcome, indeed."

  Chapter 22

  Spring arrived, bringing the earliest flowers to cheer the walled gardens of New York. Crocus, trumpet-shaped daffodils, and scarlet tulips heralded warm weather and the awakening of the sleeping earth. Donovan thought not of such things, nor of the brisk traffic of pedestrians moving along the sidewalks of Broad Street as he held Warlock to a walk along the cobble-stoned thoroughfare. He had left the Stock Exchange early to spend the afternoon at home with Alysson.

  He smiled to himself. The mere thought of her was like a healing balm smoothed gently over his restless mind. At times when she slept so peacefully in his arms, he would lie awake, taking account of his life, his successes and failures. Of all the memories th
at came to him at those times, the one he regretted the most was his behavior the night he had met Alysson. He had tried with cold-blooded calculation to seduce her, then later threatened her with rape. My God, how could she ever have fallen in love with him?

  Even on the Halcyone, the things he had said and done were inexcusable. He remembered telling her he couldn't ever marry her, couldn't be bound by strings that were hard to break, he had said. He gave an inward mocking laugh. She had certainly made him eat those words. She held him to her, not with strings, but with velvet ropes that he never wanted to break. He had always prided himself on his independence, his ability to walk away from women with no regrets, but Alysson had been the change of that. He intended to make her forget all the unhappy times he had put her through. She would have anything and everything that was within his power to give her.

  He turned Warlock upon Wall Street. Far down the road near the end of the block, he could see a small chaise as it left the gate road of his house. He recognized the rig as that of Rosalie Handel, and he tipped his hat politely to Odette and Rosalie as they were driven past him. Alysson had invited them to tea often since he had brought her to the city, and Donovan was glad she had good friends to entertain when he was involved with his business affairs. Unfortunately, Alysson was still a bit of a scandal with the society matrons of New York, but that would change. He had the power and wealth to stifle such gossip about his wife, and he intended to do it.

  A young groom ran to meet him when he reached his stables, and Donovan dismounted, walking with a quick step through the walled garden to the house. He pulled off his leather riding gloves as he strode through the downstairs rooms in search of his wife. He paused unseen at the door of the small sitting room that overlooked the rose garden. It had become Alysson's favorite place, with its pink and yellow chintz-covered window seat, and he smiled when he found her sitting there. The afternoon sun spun her hair into a shining golden halo. Her head was bent over a paper in her hands. Her fine-boned, delicate beauty rivaled any woman, anywhere.