Bewitching Kisses (Bewitching Kisses Series)

by Rainy Kirkland

  Chapter Three

  Squaring her shoulders as much as her borrowed shift would allow, Sarah stood at the top of the massive staircase and looked down at the lavish foyer below. Huge paintings broke the starkness of the pristine white walls and a bouquet of fresh flowers graced a highly polished table near the door. The fierce rains had ceased and sunlight now poured through the tall windows to bounce off the crystal chandelier and scatter in all directions.

  The sudden brightness stung her eyes, and Sarah felt her head grow light. Desperately, she clutched the banister and sank to the steps offering up a fervent prayer.

  “Please let this be a dream,” she whispered, willing the queasiness in her stomach to pass. The rocking motion of the ship washed over her, and her hand rubbed absently on the smooth oaken banister for reassurance. Her memory of the night before seemed as scattered as dandelion fluff tossed by the wind. There had been a man. She remembered his silhouette illuminated by the firelight, but no face came to mind. Then she remembered waking to the smell of hot cider. A young girl, no more than nine years in age, had gently bade her to rise and bathe. Sarah smiled thinking of the huge tub of hot water. What a luxury. Her body and hair scrubbed clean and dried by the fire had done much to restore her spirits and push the clouds from her mind. But as she donned the offered garments, she could not help but wonder as to their owner. Carefully, she had tried to glean information from the girl. She had smiled shyly but offered no answers. By the time Sarah was dressed she knew only that she was to make her way to the master’s study as soon as she was fit. The master waited for her and would she please not dawdle.

  Sitting on the top step, leaning against the newel post, Sarah rubbed her temples. Her mind raced with confusion. Where was she and in whose bed had she slept? A score of questions tumbled one over the other for her attention until her head ached.

  Sarah opened her eyes. “Have you forsaken me, Lord?” The sunlight intensified, bathing her in a golden glow, and she reveled in its healing warmth. Relieved that the steps before her no longer rocked to and fro, Sarah slowly rose to her feet. Gathering what was left of her dignity, she smoothed the borrowed skirt and pushed the shift back onto her shoulder. But as she soundlessly made her way down the carpeted stairs, her hands turned clammy and her anxiety grew.

  She tapped firmly on the study door, then taking a deep breath, turned the latch and stepped inside.

  “Mistress Townsend, do please come in.”

  Sarah paused just inside the doorway and blinked with confusion. Despite the sun that poured in through the deep windows, a hearty fire crackled in the hearth. The massive oak furniture that filled the room carried not a speck of dust and the air smelled faintly of beeswax and lemons. But as Sarah stared at the short, wiry gentleman who rose to greet her, her brow wrinkled. His thinning blond hair had been combed across a wide forehead in a futile effort to disguise a blading pate, and glasses rode low on his thin nose. His nasal voice bid her enter and sit.

  “Mr. Beaumont?” she hesitated, using the name the child had spoken.

  “What? Oh, my, no, I am Michael Danvers, Mistress Townsend. I am an attorney.” His chest puffed with pride. “I represent Beaumont Shipping. I . . . aaaaachoooo.”

  Sarah waited impatiently as Danvers sneezed several times, and then made a grand show of blowing his nose into a white handkerchief the size of a small table covering. The man wiped his tearing eyes and tried to settle his glasses.

  “I have no quarrel with Beaumont Shipping, sir,” Sarah said quietly. “And the only recompense I seek is a passage back to my home.”

  “Recompense,” Danvers stammered as his watery eyes grew wide. “Surely, madam, you misunderstand. As a bondswoman, you are hardly eligible for recompense. Oh, no, madam.” Danvers stuffed his handkerchief into a bulging side pocket and then made a grand show of stacking the papers before him into a neater pile. “I am here to inquire about your previous owner for Mr. Beaumont.”

  “You think that I am a bondswoman?” Sarah struggled to make sense of the attorney’s words.

  Danvers looked down his nose and his voice filled with censure. “You obviously gained passage on the Lady May without purchase of fare, and . . .”

  “Purchase of fare!” Sarah leaned forward in her chair. Her hands grabbed the edge of the desk and her eyes flashed with anger. “I was kidnapped, sir. I had no wish to leave Salem and travel here.” She glanced about at the book-lined walls. “I’m not even sure where here is! But what I do know is that I was taken against my will and thrown into the belly of a ship that belongs to your employer. I was bound and half starved for days on end while rats larger than your foot were my constant companions.” Sarah suppressed a shudder. “And now you say that I deserve nothing? I deserve more than recompense, sir. I deserve the most humble of apologies. If Beaumont is the owner, then perhaps ‘twould be best if I speak directly with him. Where can I find the man?”

  “Directly behind you, my dear.” The voice was a rich baritone that had Sarah leaping to her feet and spinning about in the same motion. Her heart quickened as she stared at the tall, well-dressed gentleman. He moved around her with careless ease to stand before the desk. Sarah took in the costly brocade of his coat and the muscles that flexed beneath the garment’s fine stitching. Unlike the attorney, his complexion wasn’t a pasty white, but a rich golden hue that spoke of hours in the sun.

  “Mr. Beaumont?” she stammered, wondering if he could hear the pounding of her heart from where he stood.

  “Nicholas Beaumont, your servant, madam.” He gave a mocking bow.

  Sarah took a deep, steadying breath and clasped her hands tightly together. “I believe there has been a hideous misunderstanding and we are now left to deal with a most grievous problem.”

  Nick waited patiently until his silence caused her to look directly at him. He caught and held her gaze with ease. “We have a problem . . . ?” His thick brow arched in silent amusement.

  Sarah stared in wonder. His was a most handsome face, framed with thick dark hair pulled back in a queue at the nape of his neck. His jaw was firm, taking on an almost stubborn tilt, but as her gaze locked with his, the devilish twinkle of his eye brought the memory of the night before crashing down on her with painful clarity.

  He had been the one to free her bonds and wrap her gently in a blanket. Then she had floated in a sea of warmth. Resting against his strong arm, she had watched through a cloudy haze as he washed the filth from her body. He had seen her as no man ever had and she hadn’t possessed the strength or the will to stop him. But now, in the light of the afternoon sun, her cheeks flamed with the memory and the shame it brought. Mortified, she watched as his smile deepened and knew he read her thoughts with ease.

  Unaware of the ever-growing tension, Danvers flipped the papers down on the desk before him and impatiently cleared his throat. “Mistress Townsend, please, if you would sit, we could continue.”

  Sarah tore her eyes away and gratefully sank back on her chair. She tried to concentrate on the attorney’s words, but her thoughts kept returning to the night before. A soothing voice, more dream than real, had banished her nightmares and bid her rest in peace. She remembered the softness of a fine feather pillow beneath her cheek, and blessed warmth, then nothing more. She stole a glance from the corner of her eye to find Nick Beaumont watching her with unwavering persistence.

  “So it would seem, Mistress Townsend, that you are not telling the truth.”

  “What?” Sarah snapped back to the present and stared at the attorney in confusion. Had the man just called her a liar? “I beg pardon, sir.” She strove to keep her voice calm and her fear from showing. “I have been through an ordeal and beseech your indulgence. What are you saying?”

  Danvers propped his elbows on the desk and glared. “Madam, the charade is up. Captain Riggins produced the papers that prove your bondage. Why not ease yourself and tell . . .”

  “Charade!” Sarah flew to her feet, every delicate feature filled with
rage. “Sir, I am a God-fearing woman. And I do not lie! I tell you I was kidnapped. My family must be frantic by this time.”

  “You are married?” Nick’s eyes narrowed. The thought of her with another man was less than pleasing, and he found it irritating he should care.

  Sarah shook her head. What agonies Elizabeth and Samuel must be facing not knowing what had become of her. “I must be returned to Salem,” She demanded.

  “Mistress Townsend, calm yourself,” Danvers snapped. “I have checked the documents carefully and they are completely in order. They state very clearly that you are bound into service for an additional ten years.”

  Sarah felt the blood in her veins turn to ice as a dreadful premonition washed over her. “I’m not going back on that ship.” Her voice quivered and she struggled not to scream her frustration. She had only to close her eyes to see the pockmarked face of Captain Riggins with his leering smile. The terrors of her voyage were too fresh to be easily forgotten: the bleak darkness with its constant dip and sway, the stench of human waste and rotting fish, and the scurry of rats as they brushed against her feet ready to challenge her for the bits of food that were tossed down. Bitter acid rose in the back of her throat and Sarah struggled to fight it back.

  Nick watched the color drain from her face and wondered if she would faint. Damn, but she was a fine actress. She actually had him believing her story, feeling sympathy for her plight. The drooping shift and oversize skirt should have made her a comical sight, yet she only appeared more fragile. Her thick midnight hair was pulled severely from her face, but it only served to heighten the perfection of her delicate features, the soft curve of her cheekbone, and the sweet fullness of her lips.

  Danvers cast a fleeting look in his employer’s direction and received a scowl that hastened him on again. “We at Beaumont Shipping can understand your distress, Mistress Townsend. And I am happy to be able to tell you that returning to Captain Riggins is completely out of the question.” He waited for her smile or word of thanks, but when none came, Danvers rolled his eyes. “Mr. Beaumont has bought your papers.” He explained.

  Sarah turned to stare at Nick. “You bought the papers?” His look of indifference baffled her.

  Irritated by the intensity of his reaction to her, Nick cocked a brow. “Does the situation not please you? Did you want to go back to the ship?” He watched her ivory skin grow paler, saw Danvers smile, and felt instant disgust for what he had just done. “You say you were kidnapped,”he continued, “yet we have no proof.”

  “You have my word, sir.” Sarah snapped as color surged back into her cheeks.

  Nick stared, suddenly pleased that she met his gaze with conviction. “As I was saying, we have no proof. But I do intend to get to the bottom of this.” He straightened and moved to stand beside the desk. “Beaumont Shipping has a vessel that leaves in a few days for the Bay Colony, and arrangements have been made for one of my agents to go along. Beckett will make inquiries of this family you speak of and bring back the answers we need.”

  “Let me travel with him.” Sarah turned back to Danvers. “Surely that is possible in a situation such as this. That way when the truth is known, I will be almost home.” Again she watched him glance in Nick’s direction.

  “I am afraid that will not be possible, Mistress Townsend. Mr. Beaumont has papers that indenture you to him for the next ten years and –“

  “I’m sure my family will gladly reimburse Mr. Beaumont for any expense he has incurred.” Sarah interrupted. “Don’t you see how much sense it would make for me to accompany the agent back to Salem?”

  “Two thousand pounds.”

  “What?” Sarah turned to watch Nick Beaumont perch on the corner of his desk.

  “You may buy the indenture papers for two thousand pounds.”

  Sarah felt her world begin to spin out of control. “You spent two thousand pounds to purchase me?”

  Nick gave her a sardonic smile. “If you want to buy the papers, then you may do so for two thousand pounds.

  Without thinking, Sarah jerked from her chair and snatched the document from the desk. Her eyes scanned the contents before looking up at Nick. “But you paid Riggins ten.”

  Nick’s smile deepened. “I’m a businessman, my dear. And you can read. That’s a rare accomplishment. Now if you can also guarantee that your family will be willing to pay, then we can settle the matter here and now. But tell me first, just who is this Samuel Wittfield who got you into this predicament.”

  Sarah’s eyes dropped to the bottom of the document where her brother’s signature stood bold and clear. Her hands began to tremble and her knees turned to jelly as she sank back into her chair. “It can’t be true.” Her voice was the barest whisper as she stared at the signature.

  “So you do know the man?” Nick prodded, annoyed with himself for almost believing her story. He watched her violet eyes fill with pain and wondered if the cause was justified or just part of her charade.

  Sarah laid the document back on the desk. “Samuel Wittfield is my stepbrother.” The back of her eyes felt stingy and hot. She clasped her hands again in her lap and struggled to remain composed. Samuel wouldn’t do this, she argued silently. No matter how dear the land was to him he would never sacrifice family.

  Surprised by his reaction, Nick reached to take her hand. “Have heart,” he said slowly as his thumb caressed the inside of her wrist. “The signature could be a forgery.” She looked up, and Nick felt desire surge through his veins as he watched the seed of hope flicker in her eyes.

  “That must be what happened.” Her words were slow in coming, and her brow wrinkled as she tried to puzzle it through. “But how would Riggins know that Samuel was my brother?” She shook her head. “Salem Village is a half day’s ride from Salem Harbor. I was there only once and that was as a child.”

  Nick shrugged. “Men will do strange things for wealth.”

  “I would hardly call ten pounds wealth.I think I have been insulted.”

  Nick grinned. “Then I am happy to restore your feeling of confidence in yourself. You may purchase the papers and your freedom for two thousand pounds.”

  Sarah felt her thoughts scatter in all directions. The papers had to be a forgery. “Wait,” she gasped. “I own five hundred acres of land in Salem Village. I would deed them to you in exchange for the papers and passage home.”

  “Mistress Townsend . . .” Danvers peered over his glasses. “Think about what you are saying. We have papers that prove your bondage, yet you expect Mr. Beaumont to accept your word that you own property? You are more to be pitied than censured if you think to match wits with us.”

  Sarah felt the last of her control begin to slip away. “I have only the land with which to bargain. That is my dowry and all I own. That, and my word that I am not and never have been a bondswoman.”

  Nick smiled with satisfaction. “Then we shall go back to our original plan. You will stay here until Beckett has determined just what happened. If it becomes evident that these papers are a forgery, then I will return you to your home in the Bay Colony with the utmost speed and give recompense of five hundred pounds for your inconvenience.”

  “Mr. Beaumont . . .” Danvers stuttered. “Surely you don’t mean to offer such a grand amount. I’m sure Miss Townsend would be more than satisfied with passage home.”

  “Five hundred pounds.” Nick’s quiet voice allowed for no argument, and Danvers pulled off his spectacles and hastily began to clean the lenses.

  “Yes, sir.” He stammered, turning to Sarah. “Surely you can see the generosity of this arrangement, Mistress Townsend.”

  Sarah watched Danvers wipe the perspiration from his brow. What manner of man was this Nick Beaumont that he could offer sums of five hundred pounds without a thought? “Have I no other choice?”

  “Legally, it would appear not. And as I said, Mr. Beaumont is being more than generous.”

  Sarah nodded and turned to look at her host. “Then I am to stay here as yo
ur servant until the matter is settled?” She watched his eyes darken.

  “The title is not necessary. You may consider yourself a guest in my home if you wish.”

  Sarah felt her cheeks grow red. “Sir, I am unmarried. What you suggest is most inappropriate.”

  Nick’s laughter rang out, and his dark eyes took on a devilish light. “Then consider yourself my . . . housekeeper if you will.”

  Sarah nodded slowly. She would consider herself employed. That was something she could deal with. “One month,” she stated firmly. “I shall keep your house for one month.”

  “Mistress Townsend!” Danvers rose from his chair.

  Nick felt the corners of his mouth ache to smile but held his ground. The mouse wants to bargain with the cat, he thought, watching her stand before him.

  “Two months – “ he countered.

  “This is most irregular.” Danvers tried to interrupt.

  “Six weeks and you carry a letter to my family that tells them I am safe and well.” Sarah crossed her arms over her chest and gave her sternest look.

  Nick’s laughter rang out. He held all the cards and she knew it, yet still she stood her ground. It would be a most interesting six weeks. “Done.” He declared.

  Sarah tried to smile, but her stomach was tied in such knots she marveled that she stood. “And you’ll let your agent carry my letter?”

  Nick nodded. “I realize that if your tale be true, then ‘tis a most uncomfortable situation you find yourself in. But you have my word, Sarah . . .” He hesitated, tasting her name on his tongue, “that I shall do all in my power to make your stay a pleasant one.”

  Sarah felt a shiver race down her spine, then settle deep within her. And as they stood facing each other, she couldn’t help but wonder if she had just made a pact with the devil.

  “Then if you will excuse me, I shall go and see where I can best be of use.” The neckline of her shift slipped as she moved, and a deep blush stained her cheeks as she pulled the gown back over her shoulder.

  Nick watched her pause in the doorway. “I have arranged with the dressmaker to arrive shortly, Sarah. Order anything you need.” He waited for her smile, but none came.

  Mortified that he would speak of something as intimate as her clothing, especially before his attorney, made her burn hotter still. “Thank you,” she whispered just before the door closed behind her.

  “That is a beautiful lady,” Michael Danvers sighed. “No wonder you want to keep her here.” He began to stack the papers that covered the desk. “But I think you are making a mistake to offer her so much money.”

  Nick’s smile faded and his eyes grew hard. “Really?”

  Danvers nodded, peering over his glasses. “You saw her hands. She is beautiful, but she is not gentry.”

  “Your advice in this matter is completely uncalled for and unwanted.” Nick counseled.

  Involved in the sorting of his papers, Danvers missed the dangerous light that touched Nick’s eyes as he continued. “I just think you are being very foolhardy. Marigold Thermont is much better suited. Her features may be a bit rough, but her father is nearly as wealthy as you are.” Danvers chuckled. “In fact, if you play your cards right, you could probably get her father to pay you five hundred pounds.”

  Nick motioned Danvers from his desk and plucked Sarah’s indenture paper from the stack to set it aside. Taking his quill, he scratched a few terse words on a clean sheet of parchment, then handed it to the attorney.

  Danvers frowned as he looked down at the paper. “What’s this?”

  A dark smile touched Nick’s face. “Consider it your severance pay. Your services are no longer needed at Beaumont Shipping.”

  “What?” Danvers sputtered. “You can’t do this. I’ve worked for Beaumont Shipping for over two years.”

  Nick’s face grew hard. “I am Beaumont Shipping.” he said, his voice carrying a dangerous tone. “Therefore you work for me. I have no use for employees who speculate about my private life or spread tales like gossiping old women.” He watched Danvers’s pale face turn a fiery red and knew he had hit the mark. “Consider yourself well paid and get out of my house.”

  Danvers glanced down to the amount recorded. It was more than generous, but his reputation was threatened. “Surely you don’t mean this, Nick. Your thinking is confused because of that girl. Those violet eyes of hers can make a man’s mouth water. But think of all the service I have been to you and your grandmother.”

  Nick’s gaze locked with Danvers, and in that instant he saw guilt. The man wasn’t even wise enough to pretend indignation as Sarah had done. Instinctively Nick knew he would believe Sarah’s story before he would ever trust Danvers again with his business matters. He retrieved the paper from the attorney’s trembling fingers and ripped it in two. “You’re right.” He said quietly. Again his quill scratched across paper, then he handed the new note back.

  Danvers looked down and his eyes grew wide. “But this is half the amount.”

  Nick stood. “That’s right, and if I think on the matter further, I might change my mind again. I believe you will find it in your best interest to leave immediately.”

  Danvers bit back his words of protest as he clumsily gathered his belongings. There were others, he thought bitterly, who would pay for the information that he already carried about Beaumont Shipping. But first, he was going to pay a timely visit to Mrs. Agatha Beaumont. Once he hinted about the nature of his information, the old lady would pay dearly to find out what her grandson was up to. And when she learned he had taken a common bondswoman to his bed. . .

  “Danvers.” The menacing quiet of Nick’s voice stopped the man in the doorway. “Stay away from my grandmother. If you should try to drag her into this in any way, know here and now that I will consider it a personal insult and deal with the matter accordingly.”

  Danvers felt the sweat trickle down his back and tried to swallow, but his heart filled his throat. He had watched Nick Beaumont’s ruthlessness in business for months but never had he thought to be on the receiving end. Knowing the threat not to be an idle one, he nodded and hastily left the study.

  In the foyer, Wadsworth stood ready with his cape and hat. Danvers glanced about the hallway with envy in his eyes. An imported vase filled with fresh flowers stood on a table by the wall and he knew its cost would have paid his expenses for a year.

  Stepping outside, Danvers squinted in the sunlight. The month was only April but already the spring heat was growing. He watched an open carriage stop and Madame Rousseau, the dressmaker, descend. Danvers tipped his hat as the Frenchwoman passed. She was certainly going to have her work cut out for her. The girl might look beautiful, but blood would always tell.

  Danvers took several steps and felt his heart quicken as a new thought prevailed, Agatha Beaumont had many spies; maybe he could work a deal. If he played his cards close to his chest and distributed bits to several different sources, Agatha would get her information, he would get his money, and Nicholas Beaumont would have no one on whom to lay the blame.

  Whistling a tune as he left the mansion, Danvers felt his head grow light as his plan began to take form.