“Yes, that’s why Beau is so anxious about my safety.” Cerynise heaved a forlorn sigh. “Frankly, I’m beginning to feel like a prisoner in my own home, and although I keep telling myself that’s not really the case, I always have someone standing guard, especially when I venture out to the garden. Why, I can’t even go to the privy without Moon or Jasper being close by. It’s terribly embarrassing, considering how often I have to go now.”
“Would you like to come and stay at Harthaven until the man is caught?”
Cerynise shook her head and smiled. “Thank you for the invitation, Mama Heather, but I think I’d miss Beau too much if I did.”
It was an unusually fine day, sunny but not too warm for July. The gentle breezes wafting in through the interior shutters that shaded the windows were heavily scented with the delectable fragrance of the tiny blossoms covering the sweet olive tree growing just outside. The drone of bees hovering over the profusion of flowers could be heard amid the soft, gentle cooing of doves. It was a day for strolling hand in hand with a beau or a husband, and if a walk took a couple in the direction of a secluded bower, then it was to be expected. It was definitely not a day for moping about.
“If you’re willing to go with me, my dear, then Moon can sit beside my driver and escort us to the door of the shop. Would that suffice?”
“That should be enough.” Cerynise smiled with more enthusiasm. “I think I’d enjoy an outing immensely.”
“’Twill do you good, my dear.” Heather rose from her chair. “And you look delightful as you are, so if you’d like, we can leave now.”
“Let me fetch Moon. No doubt Philippe will be relieved to have the man out of his kitchen. His temper has been sorely tested by the old sailor, who swears his French cuisine will be the death of him. Poor man, I think his stomach has been soured by all those sea victuals and hardtack he has been eating for most of his life.”
Heather laughed. “Perhaps Moon needs an outing for Philippe’s sake.”
Beau had concluded his day’s work at the warehouse and was just leaving when, from an upper-story window, he espied a familiar carriage pulling into the shipping yard. He recognized Moon sitting atop the conveyance and quickly concluded that his wife had been out and about with his mother. He hastened to lock up the safe and fetch his coat and top hat before taking his leave by way of the back stairs. By the time he descended, Cerynise was already out of the carriage and making her way across the yard toward him. She paused to await the passage of two six-in-hands that Beau determined were returning unusually late after unloading their cargo at another dock. The wagons were now empty and the teamsters, having finished their labor for the day, were no doubt anxious to tend the needs of the draft horses and leave for home. Beau waved to the men and then glanced down the street for some sign of the third one which had left the warehouse at the same time as the other two.
“Where’s Charlie?” he called to the second teamster.
“He’ll be comin’ any moment now, Cap’n,” the driver yelled back above the noisy rattling of his large dray. “He lost a wheel on the dock, an’ we had ta stop an’ help him. That’s why we’re so late.”
Cerynise moved around the last wagon and, with a bright smile, hurried to meet her husband. “We thought we’d give you a ride home if you’re acceptable to the idea.”
“How can I resist such a winsome invitation?” Beau countered, his eyes glowing above a grin. He gallantly offered an arm and was in the process of escorting her back to the carriage when he remembered that he had left some important papers lying atop his desk.
Cerynise looked up at him as he stopped abruptly. “What’s the matter?”
“I’ve got to go back to my office for a moment to get something, my pet.”
“I’ll wait for you,” she eagerly volunteered.
He winked at her affectionately. “I won’t be long.”
As he left her, Cerynise tilted her bonneted head away from the late afternoon sun that now hovered above the rooftops of the tall warehouses across the street and readjusted her lace shawl around her shoulders, self-consciously trying as much as possible to conceal her rounded shape. The rumble of wheels and thudding hooves drew a brief glance from her, and she moved nearer the warehouse to give the third driver plenty of room to maneuver his six-in-hand and wagon toward the stables.
Barely an instant later, the energetic footfalls on the back stairs of the warehouse drew Cerynise’s attention, and she turned to find her husband descending the last few steps. Beau tossed her a grin before opening his coat and sliding the papers inside an inner pocket, freeing his hands for the joyful honor of esquiring his wife back to his parents’ coach.
When Beau lifted his head again, he noticed an elongated shadow of a man stretching across a portion of the cobblestone drive that separated him from Cerynise. He looked around, hoping to find a friend, but his hackles rose in sudden apprehension. Though a large floppy-brimmed hat shaded the fellow’s face, his hulking form seemed distressingly familiar. Beau quickened his step, hoping to cut the man off before he reached Cerynise, but his haste seemed to provoke a similar response from the stranger, who sprinted toward her suddenly. As Beau raced forward, he cried out a warning to his wife, but in the next instant the man slammed his bulk into Cerynise, sending her reeling with a scream into the path of the oncoming team.
A startled shout erupted from Moon, who immediately began scrambling down from his perch. Treading on the heels of his cry, a higher-pitched scream was wrenched from Heather who clasped a quivering hand to her throat and watched in horror as her son hurled himself toward his falling wife. It seemed an impossible feat, and yet he swooped his arms around Cerynise in midair, enfolding her burdened form as he twisted. He lit on his back on the cobblestones, willingly accepting the brunt of their combined weights. Without pause, he rolled up on his knees and elbows and continued turning over and over, his large body protectively encompassing hers with limbs extended in a kneeling position as he exerted every measure of strength he was capable of mustering to protect Cerynise and their baby from harm.
Though the driver had slammed a booted foot against the wooden brake and sawed frantically on the reins to bring the steeds to a halt, the massive hooves thudded down upon the stones a hairsbreadth from Beau’s still-turning form. When the couple finally rolled to safety, a fair amount of pandemonium erupted. With a curse Moon launched himself into action and struck out after the now-fleeing stranger at an amazing fleet-footed run. The two drivers raced from the stables while the third finally brought his draft horses to a standstill. He leapt down from his lofty seat just as Heather stumbled from the doorway of the carriage and ran on trembling legs toward her family.
“Are you hurt?” she demanded in a tone that approached panic. She was shaking uncontrollably, and though she tried to see what injuries they might have sustained, worried tears blurred her vision. “Oh, please, tell me you’re both all right!”
“I think we are,” Beau replied a bit uncertainly as he searched his wife’s face for any visible signs of pain. Cerynise was too anxious about him to be concerned about herself. Even as he lifted himself off her and sat back upon his heels, she followed to examine his hands, arms and legs. It seemed only his clothing was beyond repair. His trousers were torn at the knees, which were now bloody, and his coat was badly frayed across the back and at the elbows.
“Yer pardon, Cap’n,” the driver apologized in a shaky tone. “I just couldn’t get me horses halted in time.” He handed Beau his smashed top hat and the lace shawl that Cerynise had lost in their tumbling roll. The latter was now torn and blackened by hoof and wheel marks. “I was sure I had kilt ye both.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Charlie,” Beau assured the skinner.
“I saw that awful man push her!” Heather exclaimed in outrage.
“Aye, we all saw it,” the first driver declared. “He’d have kilt her if’n it hadn’t been for the cap’n.”
Even after her initial exami
nation, the fierce set of Beau’s features made Cerynise fear that he was still in pain. She pressed an unsteady hand to his breast and searched his face worriedly, seeing the muscles snapping rigidly in his lean cheeks. Only then did she realize that she was seeing a depth of rage that she had never known existed. The fierceness of it unmistakably diminished anything she had previously seen.
“Let’s go home,” she pleaded shakily, her eyes delving into those dark green depths.
The seething rage in Beau’s face ebbed until a tense smile tugged at his lips. “Aye, my love. Let’s go home…where you’ll be safe.”
Several hours later, Beau sat in his study, turning over the events of the day in his mind as he stared fixedly at the top of his desk. His mother, who had been clearly distraught by the attempt on Cerynise’s life, had been taken home by her driver. Cerynise was in their bedroom upstairs, sleeping beneath Bridget’s watchful eye. From all outward appearances, his wife had managed to come through the incident like a trooper, yet her sudden lethargy convinced Beau that inwardly she was frightened. He had called the servants together and, after explaining what had happened, had informed them that effective immediately there would be someone on watch in the house at all times. Moon was the first to volunteer, declaring himself too vexed to sleep anyway.
Though for a few moments Beau had considered taking his wife to Harthaven, he had promptly decided that the plantation was not the safest place for her. In addition to all of the outbuildings, it was surrounded by literally miles of land that offered innumerable hiding places for the rapscallion to sequester himself. The main house itself had no fewer than a dozen entrances and far too many places for easy concealment. No, their house in Charleston could be defended much more easily until he could find the gutter-licking scum responsible and put an end to his miserable life. Nothing short of that solution would assuage his doubts that Cerynise was entirely safe from the knave.
Too bad he had let the man off so lightly on the Audacious.
When Moon had returned to the house bruised and bloody after trying unsuccessfully to stop the man from escaping, the old tar had reported that he had gotten a good look at the culprit during their brief scuffle. It was none other than Redmond Wilson, the same man who had taken an ax to the Audacious until Beau had disarmed him. In addition to the precautions Beau had set in force in the house itself, he also sent Stephen Oaks out with several crew members to prowl the streets for Wilson. If the renegade went into a tavern, visited a brothel, or so much as found a place to lay his head, Beau was confident that he would soon know about it.
Absently Beau rubbed his shoulder, feeling a painful twinge in the muscles there. At the time, he had hardly noticed the deep bruise he had inflicted upon himself when he dove across the cobblestones to save his wife from being trampled beneath the six-in-hand. But then, any harm to himself was insignificant when he compared it to the pain he would have suffered if Cerynise and their child had been harmed or killed. Such a loss would be similar to having his own heart ripped from his chest.
Thinking of what had almost been taken from him filled Beau with a sudden, insatiable need to hold his wife within his arms and feel the steady rhythm of her heart against his own. Purposefully he strode from the study and ascended the stairs. Bridget rose as soon as he entered the darkened bedroom. It was Cerynise’s wont to leave the draperies open on moonlit nights, and by the dim glow shining through the windows, he readily discerned the maid’s distress. The worry in her eyes readily conveyed the fact that she was desperately afraid for her mistress. Nothing was said. There was no need, for they shared a common fear.
Bridget left with a muted “Good night,” and Beau quietly closed the door behind her. He crossed to the four-poster and, for a long moment, stood gazing down upon the delicate features of his wife. A shaft of silver light streaming across the bed illumined her face. She seemed untroubled by dreams and, to him, as innocent as an angel. How could any man in his right mind want to harm her? he wondered morosely. The idea was ludicrous and yet, all too true.
Doffing his clothes, Beau left them hanging on the silent butler in the dressing room. When he slipped underneath the top-sheet, he snuggled close to Cerynise and laid a hand upon the rounded mound of her stomach. In a moment he was rewarded by a movement of his child, and with a heart swelling with relief, he pressed his lips into his wife’s fragrant hair. A soft, contented sigh slipped from her lips as she nestled her head beneath his chin and stroked a hand over his hardened chest.
“I love you,” she murmured drowsily.
His voice was fraught with emotion as he answered her in kind. “And I love you, madam…truly, deeply, and forever.”
Sixteen
“NO TRACE OF the brigand has been found, you say,” Brandon mused aloud. “Is it possible that he has fled the area?”
July had flown and August was advancing to a ripe old age, yet there was still no sign of Wilson. More than a week ago, Beau had come to the conclusion that the sailor had likely escaped to other climes after Moon had recognized him, causing Beau to give serious consideration to extending the search throughout the Carolinas and, if necessary, the entire South. Should it come to that, he knew by offering a generous bounty in every port in the world, the man would eventually be apprehended. There was no place where the beast could hide that a goodly sum of money couldn’t find him. It would only be a matter of time.
Until then, it was impossible for Beau to rest entirely at ease either day or night. He was always on the watch for the rogue and acutely leery of taking Cerynise outside their home. If Wilson was still in the area, the man could easily resort to using a pistol and, from behind any tree, wait for them to appear. Yet, in spite of his own vexation, Beau had tried to spare his wife, making a brave show while keeping her entertained with stories of his seafaring adventures, revealing more than he would have ever done otherwise. Fortunately, his parents had joined him in his endeavors to keep her distracted. His mother had ventured to their house almost daily and had even brought Hatti in to stay throughout the next weeks just in case the baby decided to come in the middle of the night or while the doctor was away delivering another baby. His father was forever buying Cerynise books on art, babies, or any subject he thought she might be interested in reading. Finally Beau had decided that he needed his parents’ company as much as his wife did and had asked if they’d be willing to come in and stay with them until after the birth of the child. The fact that they had arrived with baggage a mere trio of hours after he had sent the summons assured Beau that they had been anxious to come but reluctant to intrude unless bidden.
Despite the worry and rage that never strayed far from Beau, the days passed pleasantly enough even though Cerynise tired more easily in these, the final stages of her pregnancy. As a result, the household retired fairly soon after an early supper, allowing Beau to ease his wife’s discomfort in the privacy of their bedroom. In recent days, he had noticed her massaging her back and getting around much more slowly as her burden lowered in her belly. She was usually more comfortable in bed after he rubbed her back or when she could prop her legs across his. Snuggling beside him with their heads on the same pillow was always relaxing to her. Sometimes they would talk for a time while he held her close within his arms, but more often than not she would fall asleep listening to the low murmur of his voice. Not so Beau. He remained alert for long hours afterwards, keenly attuned to the sounds of the house, his mind constantly roaming in search of a plan that could be set into play to fully guarantee his wife’s safety.
It was the third week in August, into the wee hours of the morning, when Beau was snatched abruptly from a sound sleep, his mind instantly alert to danger. After bounding from the bed, he ran to the window where he searched the night-shrouded shadows cloaking the yard. Behind him, Cerynise murmured restlessly, no longer comforted by his presence. Beau cast his gaze over a shoulder and watched as she drew up in a small knot upon the mattress, as if distressed or disturbed by some discomfort. Wha
tever it was, caused her brows to gather in a harsh frown, but in the passing of a moment, the scowl eased. Without waking, she rolled to his side of the bed and snuggled her face against his pillow, breathing in deeply and then releasing a long, blissful sigh as if savoring the scent of it even in her sleep. Beau, however, was fully conscious, and the odor he was smelling didn’t sit well with him at all.
It was smoke!
Peering intently through the windows, he searched the garden and surrounding area along the north side of the house for any sign of a fire. Everything seemed normal enough, but that didn’t necessarily mean that it was. The acrid scent was growing stronger by the moment, wafting in with the soft breezes that swept into the room. He lifted his gaze to the tops of the trees and saw their boughs gently swaying to and fro, their leaves flickering beneath the light of the moon. There was some hope, of course, that the wind was carrying the smoke from a more distant place. He could only pray that was all it was, but he rather suspected the breezes were coming from a more southerly direction, for even at this early morning hour, they seemed much warmer than they had been in some days.
Beau snatched up a pair of trousers and, thrusting his feet through the leggings, stood up to hitch the garment up over his naked loins. He lit the wick of a hurricane lamp, adjusted it, and resettled the glass globe. Then he rechecked the pistol that he had been recently keeping in his bedside table and slipped it into his belt before taking up the lamp and making his way from the room. He passed the landing above the stairs and strode down the hall toward the bedroom where his parents were ensconced. He was about to rap his knuckles lightly against the door when it was yanked inward, revealing his father, who had donned his trousers with similar haste. He was also carrying a lamp.
“Where’s it coming from?” Brandon whispered and glanced up and down the hallway as he stepped out. Reaching back, he closed the door behind him, taking care not to awaken his wife.
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