Savage In Silk

by Donna Comeaux Zide

  Even now, as the servants began to stir, rising early to attend the family, the young girl slept on and dreamed in an innocent manner only the young can afford. Dark green velvet drapes hung at the windows, maintaining the deeply shadowed, midnight darkness of the room. Lying between lavender-scented sheets, Mariah Randall shivered at the coolness of the early morning air and drew the embroidered coverlet close. A playful sunbeam managed to find the only slit in the drapes and, as the sun rose higher in the sky, teased the girl slowly awake. With a kittenish grace, Mariah stretched the slender length of her body, squeezing her eyes shut to recapture the delicious dream she’d been having. Jean-Paul, the debonair French count she had met last year in Paris, had been about to propose. Holding her hand to his lips, he’d whispered of his undying love, vowing he would perish if he could not have her. In her dream, his hazel eyes had sparkled with a wicked flash of desire that had made her tingle and the thin black mustache had curled upward, his smile showing even, white teeth. Regrettably, Mama had come between them, shooing his tall, fashionably clad figure into the murky shadows.

  Mariah pouted, staring off into the corner of the large, overcrowded room. Tables and chairs heavily laden with lace doilies were everywhere and the walls were literally covered with picture groupings. Mama had been very impressed with Victorian furnishings on her last trip to England. Over the marble fireplace hung a large oil portrait of Mariah wearing her first ball gown. She stared at it now, studying the face the artist had captured. Petted and cosseted since childhood, she had been surrounded by love and assured constantly that she was beautiful. Now, as she thought about Jean-Paul, she wondered about her beauty. She had been so sure he was infatuated with her, so sure until…that day in Madame de Lories’ drawing room. She and Mama had been staying with the de Lories, old friends who had lived in St. Louis. After she had met the count at an art gallery, even Mama had been charmed and had warmed to his aristocratic manners and suave, cosmopolitan courtesy. He’d made those last weeks in Paris so exciting, escorting her to balls and fetes. That day he’d suggested they join his mother for lunch at the family chateau, just south of Paris. It was clear his intentions were becoming serious, but before she could eagerly accept the offer to meet his mother, Mama had intervened, her expression suddenly cold and distant. Mariah could still hear the confidence in her voice when she’d said, “Count Montreveu, I believe you have misrepresented yourself to us. After careful research, I’ve found your title to be quite empty…Your family is penniless, is it not? Can you deny my daughter’s future inheritance has prompted your attentions?”

  Shocked by her mother’s rude accusation, Mariah had turned, hoping to watch Jean-Paul deny it. Her faith had turned to dismay, then wounded pride as his proud face flushed angrily. He remained guiltily silent. Mariah had whirled and rushed to her room, unable to bear the humiliation. During the week that had followed, he’d sent note after note, but she’d destroyed them all without reading them. Finally she’d instructed the house steward to refuse any letters from the count and she and Mama left for St. Louis a week later.

  At home, Mariah had refused countless invitations, lacking interest in everything. At last, her mother had insisted she begin seeing Jack Carterette again. She’d grown up with him and the two families had always assumed there would be a marriage. A year had passed since then and though Jack had proposed several times, she’d managed to put him off indefinitely. The truth of the matter was that she couldn’t stand him. He was boring and dull and nothing in his nature justified the overwhelming conceit that seemed to ooze from his every pore. Although she knew she’d face a battle when the time came, Mariah had already decided she wouldn’t be forced to marry him. Her parents had always been sensitive to her feelings and she knew she could persuade them to see her side. “Come in!” Mariah called in answer to the soft knock at her door. Expecting her French maid, Colette, Mariah was surprised to see her mother enter.

  Close to fifty in age, Susannah Draper Randall looked more like a woman of thirty-five. She always moved in the same ladylike manner, stressing by example how she thought a lady of quality should act. She drew the drapes, flooding the room with early light and the heavy fragrance of the garden below. At Mariah’s side, she bent for her kiss and sat next to her on the bed.

  “Good morning, darling! No doubt you’re surprised to see me so early,” Susannah said as she reached out to fondly brush the ebony curls from the girl’s eyes. “I’ve something important to discuss with you. I just had an extremely uncomfortable visit from Gloria Carterette.” At the mention of Jack’s mother, Mariah shifted uneasily. Susannah studied the delicate features of the child she’d adopted at birth. No one but John knew of her real relationship as Mariah’s grandmother. She had arrived at her uncle’s farm in Hannibal in time to see her daughter Lilith give birth to the child. Although she had already decided to put the baby up for adoption, one glance at the baby’s sweet little face had changed her mind. Susannah had decided to take the baby herself. Lilith had been happy to be rid of her and even more happy with Susannah’s offer to let her return to her beloved Bitterroot ranch. When John had proposed to her seven months later, she’d told him the truth. A childless widower in his fifties, John had been content to accept the ready-made family and when he’d married her, had legally adopted Mariah as his, adding his mother’s maiden name as the girl’s middle name.

  Now, seventeen years later, Mariah Randall was the epitome of a well-turned-out young lady. The most expensive fashions enhanced the natural beauty of her figure. Actually, she resembled neither her real father nor her mother. The only indications of her Indian heritage were the heavy masses of ebony hair, the high, exotic cast of her cheekbones and an unusual, star-shaped birthmark high on her left cheek. Other than those features, she was a blend of Susannah herself and Susannah’s mother. It was hard to name one individual feature as more beautiful than the rest, but her green eyes, veiled beneath long, heavy lashes, were strikingly attractive. Mariah still hadn’t asked what Mrs. Carterette had wanted and Susannah had the feeling the girl would rather avoid the subject.

  “I think you know why Jack’s mother called, Mariah. She and Mr. Carterette are puzzled and more than a little hurt by your reluctance to accept Jack’s proposal and set a definite wedding date.”

  “Wedding!” The green eyes widened like those of a startled fawn. “We only vaguely discussed such plans, Mama.”

  “Well, everyone just assumed…there was never any doubt there would be a wedding. Surely you can’t be hesitant about accepting Jack?”

  A tiny frown creased Mariah’s face. Mama acted as though she wanted to refuse the Prince of Wales! The time to discuss Jack had finally come. Confident, Mariah proceeded to explain her feelings. “I couldn’t marry Jack, Mama. He and I are exact opposites. All he ever talks about is racing horses and expanding the business!” Jack’s father had bought into Randall Transport five years before and Jack was being groomed to take over the business. In fact, since John Randall had retired at the age of sixty-seven last year, Jack and his father had been running the business.

  “But Mariah…there’s no one more suited to marry you. Jack has an excellent family background, a pleasant personality and best of all, he adores you. With your marriage, the business would pass intact to you and your children.” She held her hands clasped together in her lap, fingers fidgeting nervously. “I don’t know how your father will take this news! You know how short-tempered he’s been the past year.” Since his retirement, John had grown bored and crabby from a lack of activity and had seemed to age considerably in one year’s time. Only Mariah had managed to escape being a target of his short-fused temper thus far.

  “Mama, please try to understand. I’ve always obeyed any command of yours and Papa’s, but I just can’t marry Jack. Just the thought of being his wife makes my skin crawl!” Her gaze beseeched Susannah to sympathize with her.

  Susannah reached out and patted her daughter’s hand. “You can’t think the sill
y emotions you felt for that French scoundrel were a better basis for marriage, child.

  I see I should have discussed this with you long before now.” A sudden, faraway look glazed her eyes as remembered bitterness shadowed her face.

  “I was in love once, long ago,” Susannah said softly. “All it ever brought me was heartache and pain. Love— the word ought to be struck from the vocabulary! My first husband swept me off my feet, then took me to spend long, horrible years exiled in Montana. He even managed to turn my own daughter against me.”

  Mariah gasped, shocked by her mother’s admission that she had another daughter. She’d been told when she was small that she was adopted and that Susannah had been married before but this daughter had never been mentioned. “Where is she…I’ve never heard you speak of her before.”

  Susannah was already regretting her mistake in mentioning Lilith. She’d only meant to illustrate the foolishness of mixing love and marriage. “Lilith still lives on her father’s ranch. The only time I hear from her is when she writes for her annual allowance. She’s a grown woman now, and we have no more in common than when she was younger.”

  “And you haven’t seen her all this time, not even once?”

  “No, child. Neither of us wants to see the other. You’re my life now and the only real happiness I’ve ever had.” She put her hand to her temple, feeling the beginnings of a migraine. “I don’t think I’m asking too much, Mariah. I’m only interested in your welfare. How can I face the Carterettes if you refuse Jack?”

  Mariah was tempted to agree for her mother’s sake. The thought of causing her any mental anguish was painful, but marriage to Jack would be a mockery. She’d been accused before of being too romantic. In fact she had read every book dealing with love in her father’s library. Perhaps she was too idealistic but she had always imagined some gallant beau sweeping her off her feet. The thought of submitting to Jack was so horrible, it hardened her resolve. “I’m sorry, Mama. I can’t…I won’t marry Jack, not now or ever.”

  Susannah was furious at the girl’s continued defiance. She’d recognized the momentary softening of Mariah’s expression and had been sure of victory; but, for the first time in her life, Mariah was stubbornly refusing to obey. “You leave me no choice, child. Until I discuss this with your father, you are confined to your room!”

  A flood of tears overflowed the stormy green eyes. “Papa won’t force me,” she said defiantly. “At least he wants me to be happy!”

  Susannah was unmoved by the tearful accusation. “I’ll send Colette in to you. She’ll bring your meals upstairs. I think you’ve underestimated my influence with your father. I don’t intend to have your foolish ideas spoil all our lives.” Susannah swept from the room, firmly shutting the door on the weeping girl.

  Chapter 2

  One month after her defiant stand against her mother, Mariah Randall stood on the levee at St. Charles, Missouri, waiting to board the sternwheeler, La Belle de St. Louis. The most modern of her father’s steamboats, it had been lovingly dedicated in her honor on the day of her sixteenth birthday. How different that day had been, she thought. She was now seventeen and bound for Lilith Draper’s ranch in Montana, disinherited and cast out of the house by her father’s decree. She was already homesick, despite the fact that she’d had a month to get used to the idea. Beside her, Susannah sniffled delicately into her lace handkerchief, something she had done continuously since leaving the house this morning.

  Above them, a large flock of geese flew in a disciplined vee formation across a gray-and-white patchwork sky. Everything that needed saying had been said, and only the honking of the geese broke the heavy silence. Turning to look behind her, Mariah surveyed the road leading to the dock. She still hoped her father would relent and send a messenger calling her home.

  The suggestion that she be allowed to live with Lilith had been her own, uttered in a desperate moment following the ugly, fateful scene when her father insisted she comply with his wishes or be thrown out. The memory of his face, reddened by anger, was still fresh in her mind. “You dare to defy my wishes, young lady! Either you marry Jack or I’ll have nothing more to do with you,” he had shouted, in an effort to cow her with threats. Mariah, torn between losing all that was dear to her and surrendering to a long, miserable existence as Jack’s wife, had somehow found the strength to defend herself. Following her refusal, she had been ordered to find a new home. The one concession John Randall had made was to arrange passage for her aboard one of his boats. He refused to allow her to take Colette along, coldly warning her that she would have a long, lonely time to consider her obstinate stand.

  The captain of the boat, Jonas Burten, hurried down the gangplank toward the two ladies on the dock. His dark hair was well salted with gray and in the neat, dark-blue coat he wore over his spare frame, he seemed far younger than his actual age. At fifty-eight, he was one of the most experienced and skillful pilots on the river, one of the few capable of running the treacherous currents of the Missouri at night.

  For over two weeks Jonas had puzzled over the laconic order from John Randall. It had merely read, “…arrange passage for Mariah Randall from St. Charles to Myer’s Landing, leaving June 10. J. L. Randall.” He expected the old man personally to see to his daughter’s comfort, but he hadn’t even come to see her off. As Jonas reached the two women, he removed his hat, politely bowing to them. “Mornin’, ladies. Fine day for a journey!” Susannah Randall’s eyes were red-rimmed and she looked so helplessly miserable that her daughter answered for her.

  “Good day, Captain Burten. How nice to see you again! We appreciate your courtesy in meeting us.” Mariah glanced at her mother and explained why she was so distraught. “You must excuse my mother’s tears. We’ve never been parted before and she’s a bit worried about me.”

  Remembering the young girl at the boat’s christening the year before, Jonas was charmed to see how beautifully she’d blossomed. Breathtaking then, she was even more beautiful now, although her face was solemn. “That’s certainly understandable, miss. Here, ladies.” He stood aside, allowing them access to the passageway. “Please, there’s no need to keep you in the hot sun.” On board, he showed them to the cabin he’d set aside for Mariah, waiting until the somewhat recovered Susannah had inspected it and issued her approval. It was the second largest accommodation on board; only his own master cabin was larger. A cabin boy had scrubbed the plank flooring until it gleamed and a clean, woodsy aroma from the small cedar chest freshened the air. “Don’t mean to rush your farewell, ladies, but we’ll be departin’ in…” Burten drew out an ornate gold pocket watch and continued, “exactly twenty-four minutes.” He turned to go, allowing them their last moments in privacy. “Oh, Mrs. Randall, rest assured your daughter will be cared for as if she were my own.” Susannah smiled briefly and thanked him and, as the door closed after him, turned to Mariah.

  “I’m sure the captain will do as he says but…” Her voice trembled before she gained control of it and continued, “I’ll still worry, child. Don’t forget everything I told you and write as soon as you can.” She hugged Mariah close for a moment. “I still don’t know how it ever reached this stage! John has never been so stubborn in all the years we were married. Really, I can’t see how survive out there; you’re so used to being taken care of and you won’t even have a maid!”

  A whistle blew, sounding a warning to disembark, and Mariah tucked her arm into her mother’s as they walked to the deck. “Your daughter lived there all these years, Mama. I’ll be fine…really, I will! Maybe…maybe after a while Papa will change his mind.” She paused at the railing before the gangplank and embraced her mother for one last time. Susannah stiffened her back and pulled away, whispering a confession that made Mariah stare in wonder after her retreating figure. “I can’t really blame you, darling…You’re too lovely to waste on that silly boor!”

  Susannah continued to wave from the shore until the boat was almost out of sight. Mariah bit her lip to keep th
e wretched loneliness from overwhelming her; if she gave in to it she’d never reach Montana! She would just have to keep herself occupied, she decided resolutely. In her cabin, she began to unpack her belongings, setting her perfumes and personal articles in a neat row on the chest and hanging her gowns in the wardrobe. At last she finished and, faced with an empty afternoon, settled down on her bed to read the copy of Romeo and Juliet that she had brought with her. Before she knew it, the distant sound of bells marked the hour at four. She laid the book aside and poured cool water from the china pitcher into the basin. Splashing her face with the water refreshed her and after rearranging her hair, she set about finding a gown for dinner.

  When Captain Burten came to her door, she smiled a greeting. “Afternoon, miss. Hope I didn’t disturb you. Just wanted to reassure you about our dining arrangements. Dinner is served at six. Of course, you’re the honored guest at my table. Several others’ll be joinin’ us—all quality folks.” Burten looked down at his feet, his usual assurance deserting him in the presence of this self-possessed young lady. “I thought I might come by at six to escort you to the salon.” After he’d finally spit out the words, he glanced up to find himself the recipient of a dazzling smile.

  “I’d be honored, Captain, and deeply wounded if you chose to escort any other! I’m looking forward to meeting the others you mentioned. I hope they won’t think I’m rude, but I want to hear all about Montana and I confess I’m avidly curious in the presence of an expert such as yourself!”