by Betty Bolte
"How is Evelyn?" Cynthia asked, changing the subject as she gave her attention to Samantha. "Pray tell me she is not still crying over that man."
"It is to be expected she'd grieve the death of the father of her child," Samantha said, shaking her head, "even if he did treat her abysmally in the end. At one time, she must have been fond of him."
"So I'm told." Cynthia sighed and folded her hands. "I'll take some soothing tea up to her after everyone has eaten. Which reminds me, I had meant to inquire earlier. Did you have a plate sent up to her?"
"Amy carried a small plate up a while ago," Samantha said. "Whether the poor woman ate it or not, I cannot say."
"She still must provide for her infant." Cynthia flexed her fingers and then shook her head. "Evelyn's life has certainly been filled with sorrows and challenges."
"With luck, her fortunes will change for the better while she resides in town." Samantha's experiences would help her counsel the new widow on the hard decisions and unpleasant realities she'd face. In the distance, Amy waved at Samantha to hurry. "Tomorrow, I'll speak with Evelyn about her plans for the future."
"Very kind of you. Ah, I see you're being sought out." Aaron half bowed and then motioned for her to precede him down the path. "Time for the annual salute. Have you chosen a suitable sentiment to share with our guests?"
She nodded, aware of a sense of relief emanating from her parents, and made her way down the path, shells crunching with each step. She glanced back at her father's guarded expression and then drew in a breath, savoring the sweet aroma emanating from the massive rosemary bush huddled in the corner. Eager faces, alight with smiles, surrounded her. The string quartet finished playing Haydn in the background and fell silent.
Benjamin handed her a flute of sparkling wine when she reached the group of people gathered by the banquet table. She frowned, worry blooming inside. His lips pinched together as though he fought pain. His face appeared ashen in the flickering shadows of the lamplight. With surprise, she noticed when she accepted the flute from him that the touch of his hand left moisture on her fingers.
"Benjamin, are you feeling well?" Samantha studied his expression. The perspiration and tautness of his face sparked grave concern in her chest. "Tell me the truth."
"I'm fine, a touch tired after the day's exertions." He wiped his hand down his dove gray evening coat and then smiled over Samantha's head. "Excellent. You made it!"
She turned to welcome the new arrival and froze, her flute trembling in tense fingers, the liquid sloshing within the fragile crystal. Dr. Trenton Cunningham. His sandy blond hair waved back from his open expression, crystal blue eyes echoing the wide smile revealing even white teeth. Broad shoulders filled the dark navy evening coat he wore, a canary yellow cravat neatly tied at his throat and tucked into an elaborately embroidered waistcoat. Creamy breeches hugged his strong thighs, and tall black boots completed his attire. Despite the formality of his clothes, Dr. Trent appeared as though he'd recently arrived on board a ship from some distant intriguing port. Fresh and windblown and ready for adventure.
"Benjamin, should you be out here?" Trent strode to stand by his friend, inspecting Benjamin with a sweeping glance. "You look terrible."
"I'll be fine. Besides, I wouldn't want to forego hearing Miss Samantha's toast, after all." Benjamin shook Trent's hand and then drew Amy up to his side. "Congratulate me, my friend. Miss Amy has agreed to be my betrothed."
Trent nodded at Amy, who beamed in her newly donned role. "My heartfelt wishes to you both." He smiled and then bowed at Samantha, his eyes sparkling as he gazed up at her. "Miss Samantha, I'm honored to be included in your gathering this evening."
"I'm pleased your schedule permitted you to attend." She dipped a curtsy, but her thigh underwent a spasm and jerked in protest. Fiddlesticks. She lurched and flung her hands wide in an attempt to stay on her feet.
Trent grasped her arm as she found her balance, the contact of his hand jolting along every inch of her skin. Gramercy. Brows knitted, he gazed at her with concern evident in his countenance. She stepped away, out of his reach, and drew in a long breath. "Thank you."
He half bowed again, his arm sweeping in front of his waist, as he smiled at her. "My pleasure."
Although she'd been in his presence a handful of times—mainly when he challenged and decried her abilities as a healer—she couldn't deny the intense visceral impact she experienced each time. A purely physical effect, of course, one she would scrutinize and then ignore. After all, the combination of a tall gorgeous man who also proved strong and clever could not easily be dismissed. His mere presence was extraordinarily dangerous to her sense of wellbeing. She forced herself to remain still, appear calm, even while her heart raced. She'd never experienced such a combined sense of imbalance and headlong emotion. A definite curiosity, given her intended path forward.
The last time she'd seen him, Trent had been furious at what he'd called her ineptitude while treating Emily's young nephew the month before. He'd been wrong, of course, as little Tommy fully recovered from the snake bite without the doctor actually doing more than administering a small dose of emetic and then bathing the fever after her treatment. But she'd never had the opportunity to discuss the proper treatment, so he continued to act as though her skills proved inferior to his. Bah. After the fact, her mother relayed news of the latest snake bite remedy based on plantains, rum, and tobacco juice. If only she'd learned of the amazingly effective poultice sooner, little Tommy would have never suffered a prolonged ordeal. Next time, she'd know. Another chapter ended and book closed.
Though aware of the disquieting fact Benjamin summoned the young doctor, she'd hoped he'd wait to arrive after the party ended and the guests dispersed. Or at least he might have the courtesy to dawdle until after she'd made her short speech. But he'd shown up as eager and affecting as ever, unsettling her normally unflappable composure preceding her annual duty. Indeed, time had slipped away and the moment arrived. She turned back to face the guests, and raised her glass, the golden wine jostling in the flute.
She waited for the conversations and laughter to die as one by one they noticed her. When all was quiet except for the call of night birds to one another, she lifted her glass a bit higher. "My friends, we gather this evening as in years past to rejoice in the bounty we've realized this year. As our country begins to define our government and create a new society, consider the wise words from the lauded Anna Bradstreet, who some have called the Tenth Muse, in her wonderfully inspiring Meditations, Divine and Moral."
Trent locked gazes with her, disconcerting her already churning thoughts. Strange how his presence caused such an extreme reaction. Was it the animosity she sensed flowing from him like sea foam after a storm? Or could it be more of an underlying awareness triggered by similar interests? He widened his eyes and then winked at her as a slow grin eased onto his lips. Startled, she blinked and then focused instead on the cluster of her closest friends and her parents. She took a breath, trying in vain to calm her agitation, and aimed a shaky smile at the gathering.
She must push through this disconcerting situation as swiftly as she dared. "Miss Bradstreet reminded us that, 'Authority without wisdom is like a heavy axe without an edge, fitter to bruise than polish.' Pray keep this thought in mind as the year draws to a close and we face new challenges. Our governor and other state leaders will need our support and God's guidance."
Glasses clinked all around her to the accompaniment of "Huzza! Huzza!" She let out a sigh masked as a laugh, raising her glass again to acknowledge the well wishes of the people before her.
She sipped the wine, the cheer of the moment echoing inside her heart. The sweet liquid slid down her throat, calming and buoying her at the same time. Looking over the crowd, she noted others mimicking her actions. All but two anyway. Her parents, grim faced and rigid, turned and stalked away. Their actions could only mean one thing. A chill born of dismay and fear froze her smile into place.
* * *
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nbsp; The expectant hush ended as the McAlesters' guests turned to each other and quiet conversations resumed. Couples drifted off, heads together, to meander through the winding paths of the herbal garden. An obligatory smile graced Samantha's lush lips. Trent tracked the direction of her gaze, following it to the elderly couple strolling away with unhurried steps but tense posture. He'd seen them earlier, learned the striking woman was the infamously suspect midwife Cynthia McAlester and her tall husband, Aaron, the sly loyalist merchant striving to keep his affairs out of the public eye. A couple meant for each other. Not that any one else characterized them as such, but the rumors moving through town must contain more than a hint of truth. Flicking a glance back to Samantha, he nodded to himself. Their daughter. He hadn't connected them as a family before. He remembered her fumbling attempts to heal the boy with the snake bite, an attempt that ended well only because he'd stepped in to help. She'd been out of her depth with such a delicate situation. No wonder she seemed familiar verging on dangerous. But then, with those lips enticing a man's kiss, her mere presence could become perilous to his equilibrium.
Samantha, although as beautiful as Cleopatra, embodied the outmoded medical approach he vowed to replace with current theories, techniques and practices. The rise of trained doctors would ultimately force out the uneducated and ill-advised practices of the town's old midwives. While the conflict between the colonies and England raged, he'd been forced to attend university in Philadelphia rather than the prestigious University of Edinburgh in Scotland where he'd dreamed of studying. Still, the professors he studied under had been trained in Edinburgh, like his own father, so his education ranked with the best. On the other hand, women like Mrs. McAlester and Miss Samantha would have to come to grips with the cost of progress. He rather felt sorry for them, truth be told. In another life and circumstance, Samantha might be the type of woman who could prove a perfect companion and maybe even wife, with her understanding and knowledge of the life of one who cares for others. But with the times changing, moving to more modern ways and practices, well... He hoped she had another way to earn her keep after he convinced the town of his superior methods.
Her perplexed expression became a happy smile as she made her way to where Benjamin and Amy chatted with Frank and Emily beside a huge rosemary bush. The pungent aroma mingled with the seaside scents. The four friends greeted her with brief clasps, though Benjamin grimaced when he moved his arm to do so. Trent frowned, concern sweeping down his spine. Benjamin's rifle shot wound. The only reason Trent had been invited to this gathering. Even though they had no idea of his ultimate desire for the town, they treated him with caution even as they called him friend. He snorted. No surprise there.
Benjamin stepped away from the group and motioned Frank aside to have a conversation, handing off what looked like a small silver box with too casual movements. The way they subtly surveyed those around them, as if apprehensive, made Trent suspicious regarding the transaction. Frank slid the item into a pants pocket with a grim nod before the men rejoined the ladies. Mayhap Trent should investigate to satisfy his curiosity if for no other reason.
He strode over to stand by the group, and by extension Samantha, his black evening cloak bumping against his calves when he stopped. Samantha's stiff posture and composed countenance spoke volumes, revealing her level of concern with his company. She stood tense and ready, her arms crossed as if to ward off an attack, the soft fabric of her shawl quaking with her agitation. Although she wore a resolute smile, she kept a watchful eye on him as he joined the clutch of friends.
"Good evening." Benjamin nodded once. "Thanks for being here."
"My pleasure." Trent spread his cloak open enough to allow cooler air inside, then tugged the points of his waistcoat down into place. "How are you faring?"
"I'll tell you. He pretends nothing is wrong." Amy clasped a white gloved hand on Benjamin's good arm. "But I can tell he's in significant pain. More with each passing minute." She scrutinized Benjamin's face, frowned, glanced at Samantha and then back to meet Trent's eyes. "In fact, he's worse now than a few moments ago. Can either of you help him?"
"The poultice will take time to have full effect." Samantha stiffened at the inclusion of Trent so easily and moved closer to Benjamin. "Is it any better yet or would you prefer for me to redress the wound?"
"Come now, Miss McAlester." Trent stepped forward, drawing her attention. "Your particular skills are no longer needed as Benjamin has requested I attend to his injury henceforth."
Samantha blinked twice as she squared her shoulders, her chest thrusting forward to lend an intriguing view of creamy cleavage. Not that she seemed to notice, but the smoothness of her skin as it deepened into shadow between her breasts tempted him to explore. He inhaled sharply. An outrageous desire, one to set aside posthaste. Pay attention. She studied him when he met her gaze, her eyes narrowed and then focused on Benjamin. "Is that so?"
Benjamin shifted his weight to stand closer to Amy, one pant leg half-disappearing into the voluminous folds of her long skirts. "Not exactly, Miss Samantha. Trent has been trained by the best minds in Philadelphia, so I asked him to assist you in my treatment."
Samantha lifted her chin and then turned to study Trent for several moments. "I really do not need your assistance, Dr. Trent. However, since Benjamin insists, I shall endeavor to consult you when any question arises. But pray stay out of my way as much as possible."
Damnation, he had thought her beautiful before. When her eyes sparked and her cheeks pinked with suppressed anger, he couldn't look away. "With all due respect, there is no call for you to trouble your pretty head with the matter."
Amy gasped, her brows arching. "Why would you say such a thing?"
"My apologies if I've offended you, Miss Amy." He shrugged but continued gazing upon Samantha's glowing features with admiration, including her dark pink lips. Invitingly ripe lips which, sadly, were definitely off limits to him. "I merely believe Miss Samantha should concentrate on other areas more suited to her training. Assisting at child birth, for instance."
Samantha lifted one brow and drew in a long breath. Letting it out slowly, she moistened her lips with a flick of her tongue, stirring a reaction in Trent's groin. Damnation. He couldn't permit such a reaction. He cleared his throat as she clasped her gloved hands before her, searching his face until he grew uncomfortable and glanced away to compose himself.
"I can assure you, gentlemen," Samantha said, her words clipped and voice pulsating with suppressed emotions, "my talents and training enable me to treat any illness or complaint my patients may have."
"Any? My sweet woman, no doctor could hope to heal or cure every patient." Trent grinned at the naiveté of her statement. She may be beautiful but not necessarily as savvy as he'd been led to believe. "You're mistaken on the point."
"My mother has worked all her life to help those around her and she taught me everything she knows. I learned a great deal from her as well as a few other healers, as my friends can attest." She shot a look at Amy and Benjamin, one brow raised while she waited.
Trent frowned at the silent message passing between the friends. Exactly who were the others she trained under? Why not be forthright and state her credentials rather than resort to subterfuge and misdirection?
"Indeed, I can vouch for Samantha's abilities." Amy moved forward, her long skirts rustling, and reached out to grasp Samantha's arm to draw her closer. "For example, everyone knows how much she has helped the poor folk living up on The Neck, often for no compensation."
"On the mainland side of the peninsula? That's what's referred to as The Neck, right?" Trent allowed a short guffaw before the stern expression on Benjamin's face quelled the impulse to laugh outright. Working with the slaves and the free blacks did not recommend her efforts. They'd take whatever help they could find. "I suppose the amount of payment was commensurate to her abilities."
"You, sir, having only recently arrived in this city have no right to demean me with such a statement."
Samantha bristled, unclasping her hands to brace them on her slim hips. Her green eyes glittered like bottle glass, cold and harsh. "How dare you?"
She glared at him but he couldn't stop looking at her. What was the question? He shook his head, her flaring nostrils and primly compressed lips entrancing. He really must pay attention and not let his physical response to her distract his objective. And yet... "Has any one ever told you how pretty you are when your eyes flash in anger? It takes my breath." Trent smiled, trying to divert the conversation to calmer seas. "You're a very handsome woman, Miss Samantha."
"Do not change the subject at hand." Samantha's tone held firm but her shoulders relaxed a small amount. "Pretty words will not sway me."
Trent considered the gorgeous woman before him. The softening of her posture implied she might be amenable to knowing him better despite her claim. He mentally shook his head as he perused the details of her face, the sprinkling of freckles across her pert nose, the crystalline nature of her emerald eyes, and the pure perfection of her skin. Unfortunately, the discord between them could only deepen as a result of their opposition on the matter of patient care.
"You two need to calm yourselves. Don't you agree, Ben?" Amy grinned and glanced up at Benjamin's white face. Her expression shifted to reflect her extreme disquiet at what she saw. "Ben, let me help you home. You need to rest."
Samantha edged closer to Benjamin, peering at him. "I do not understand why you have suddenly taken such a turn for the worse." Samantha examined Benjamin's face, a frown marring her classic features. "It's as if a shadow passed over your grave or a candle was snuffed."
Trent tore his gaze from Samantha to inspect Benjamin's aspect. He didn't like what he detected there. "The change in your countenance is indeed a pertinent fact which should inform Benjamin's next decision regarding his care."
