The Pleasure of the Rose

by Jane Bonander

  • • •

  Kerry sauntered to the stable and out of the corner of her eye she saw the stable boy. Evan. Of course she had noticed him right away that first day. He interested her. A lively pup with bushy eyebrows pranced and danced around him. The boy had watched her carefully every time they were together in the stables, but he never spoke to her.

  She turned to him, hoping she appeared grown up. “Evan—that is your name, isn’t it?”

  He gave her a sly yet quite charming smile. “’Tis.”

  “I need a pony. Pick one out for me, would you please?”

  He slowly came toward her, one eyebrow lifted over his clear blue eyes, the dog following, a bundle of energy. “You be needin’ a pony, young miss? Do ye have the duke’s permission to ride?”

  She bristled. “I don’t need his permission; I can ride as well as any of you boys. So saddle one up for me.” The pup loped up to her, sniffed her legs, then jumped up on her. She bent down and gave its ears a rough tug. “You are a happy little thing, aren’t you?” She was rewarded with a wet kiss. It made her laugh. She could never ignore a dog of any kind. They were one of her weaknesses. Once she had discovered a book that described dog breeds and where they were first bred. She had memorized them all. She could still rattle them off—if anyone had asked her to. “What’s the pup’s name?”

  Evan appeared to study her. “Bear.” The dog’s ears perked up at his name.

  “He’s got big paws. I read in a book about a dog like this. It’s a wolfhound of some kind, isn’t it?”

  “Aye, ’tis a wolfhound. An Irish wolfhound.” Evan nodded toward the castle. “His mum sticks close to her ladyship. You’ve seen her?”

  “You mean Sima?” She had fallen in love with the dog and her pup the minute she saw them. “It’s the first time I’ve seen a real one.” She continued to scratch the pup’s ears. “At home—I mean, back where I came from—we had a lot of dogs roaming about, most of them friendly, especially if you fed them the smallest little thing, but I’ve never seen one as big as Sima.” She frowned. “You named your dog Bear? That’s an odd name for dog that’s so wiggly and funny.”

  Evan swaggered closer. “What would you call him, then, if he were yours?”

  Kerry took a step back and studied the pup. He was gray and shaggy and made her want to laugh. “I don’t know, maybe I’d call him my little clown.”

  Evan gave the pup a thoughtful look. “Aye, I suppose, but he won’t always be so, you know. He will grow to be a fiercely huge animal, one that could fell a sheep or even a larger animal.”

  “When you look at it like that, I suppose you’re right. Anyway, can you suggest a pony for me?”

  “I ain’t yer personal servant.” His words weren’t mean or threatening.

  She gave him a look of mock surprise. “Well, you are the stable boy, aren’t you?”

  He gave a low whistle and the pup raced to his side and sat, tail moving so hard it nearly moved the dog. “Aye, I am. But…” He stopped and slid his cap off, revealing a shock of curly black hair, hair so black Kerry wondered how it could be darker than her own. “I only do what the duke tells me, otherwise I need to be asked nicely, sweetly, if you please.”

  Kerry rolled her eyes and heaved a sigh. “Please saddle me a pony.”

  Evan gave her a sly look and shook his head. “Not very sweet, lassie. I’ll prob’ly need a wee kiss, too.”

  Kerry made an impatient sound in her throat and stomped toward the stalls where the horses were kept. She pointed at a pretty little paint with a bushy tail. “That one. I’ll take that one, and I can saddle her myself if you’re too stubborn to do it for me.”

  “No kiss, then?” He had a wicked look in those blue eyes, and when he smiled, his teeth were white.

  Kerry felt a little giddy, but hid it well. “I don’t go around giving my kisses away, especially to a stable boy.”

  “Yer loss, lassie.” Evan relented, saddled up a pony, and within minutes, Kerry was off on her adventure. She felt a wonderful freedom atop the mount, which, she learned, was named Mariah. Kerry reached down and stroked the filly’s soft, velvety neck. It felt so good to be on horseback again.

  She saw a little church up ahead, and in the yard next to it, in front of a tiny white house, two girls played with hoops. They looked close to her age. She reined in Mariah, slowing down their pace. The girls looked up as she approached. And stared.

  “What’s the matter, haven’t you ever seen a girl ride a horse before?”

  Both girls continued to stare at her. One of them, the prettier one with the curly reddish hair, put her fists on her hips and took a few brave steps forward. “Oh, we’ve seen girls on horses before,” she began, “we’ve just never seen a savage lassie in pants.”

  “Birdie!” the plainer one scolded. “Da would put a switch to you if he heard you talking like that. You know he always preaches that the Lord doesn’t care about skin color. Don’t mind her,” she said to Kerry. “She always talks before she thinks.”

  The pretty one, Birdie, responded, “Oh, pooh on Da’s preaching.”

  The other one gasped. “Birdie! You’ll go to hell!”

  Appearing undaunted, Birdie answered, “Well, it’s true, isn’t it, Robbie? We’ve only seen pictures of them in books that the tutor lets us page through.”

  Kerry was too intrigued by their language to be hurt by the insult. She knew they spoke English, but she had to work hard to understand them.

  The plainer one, Robbie, stepped forward. “Are you the girl living at the castle?”

  “How many other ‘savages’ have moved to this godforsaken island?”

  “You don’t like it here?” Robbie asked.

  Kerry’s shoulders slumped. “What’s to like? It’s too cold, it’s too windy, it rains too much, and it’s nothing at all like Texas. Texas is the best place on earth.”

  “I think I’d like Texas,” Birdie said. “They have all those cowboys there, don’t they? Men who ride horseback and lasso little doggies?”

  Kerry tried not to laugh. “They’re dogies. Wayward calves. Not dogs.”

  Neither girl spoke for a few seconds, then the pretty one said, “We hear you have a couple of brothers. Are they savages too?”

  Robbie gasped. “By the holy, Birdie, stop using that word!”

  Kerry swung herself down off the mount and led her to a patch of grass under a tree before tethering her. “Yes, I have two brothers, and no, they both aren’t savage, as you call them. One has hair nearly as bright as wheat.”

  Robbie was the first to offer Kerry an invitation to join them. “Come, sit with us. We ha’e much to ask you about your life. And I really like your boots. What are they made of?”

  Kerry glanced at her shoes. They’re made from cowhide,” she offered.

  Birdie scooted close. “First you have to tell us about your brothers. How old are they? Do they like girls? Do you think they’d like me?”

  Robbie uttered an exasperated sigh, but didn’t interrupt.

  Kerry sighed inwardly and studied the girl. She was green-eyed and dimpled and had skin so fair Kerry could almost see her veins. But her cheeks had high color, and her nose was just a little button of a thing. “My brothers don’t like girls who throw themselves at them.”

  “Well,” Birdie answered, preening in front of her, “I think they’d like me. All the boys like me, don’t they, Robbie?”

  Kerry saw Robbie glance at the ground and kick at a clump of dirt. Unlike her sister, she was not pretty. Her hair was brown and her eyes were a clear shade of blue, almost like the sky. She had clear skin too, but the sun had given it a bit of color, even some freckles across her nose. Kerry thought she looked the healthier of the two and she was much more likeable. But she still wasn’t sure she wanted to make friends, even though she longed for someone her own age.

  “Yes, Birdie, dear, all the boys like you.”

  Kerry picked up a fallen hoop and played with it, sending it on a s
hort spin. She had many questions, but the one that kept eating at her was about the children on the island. “Tell me,” she began, “are there really children here who have to steal for their food? Do they really have parents who beat them if they don’t?”

  The girls glanced at one another and something flicked between them. Finally, Robbie asked, “Where did you hear such a thing?”

  Kerry toyed with the end of the long, thick braid that hung over her shoulder. “I’ve been helping out at the clinic with the lady who treats patients. She told me.”

  “You mean Mrs. Begley?” Robbie asked.

  “Aye,” remarked Birdie, “the lady who wears trousers. Is that where you got the idea?” she asked, pointing to the ones Kerry was wearing. “I think they’re kind of silly for a girl to wear. But,” she added with a shrug, “you’re not from around here. I suppose it’s natural for lassies to wear pants in Texas.”

  Kerry shook her head. “Not really; I just like the way they feel.”

  Birdie made an unpleasant sound in her throat. “Not me. I like to look like a lassie because otherwise the laddies don’t pay any attention to you.”

  Kerry smiled at her in spite of herself. “Well, I really don’t care about your laddies.”

  “So you work for the nurse?” Robbie asked.

  Kerry nodded. “She seems to do everything a doctor would.”

  “What kind of patients have you seen?” Robbie asked.

  Kerry shrugged. “A boy whose father had broken his arm. Mrs. Begley told me it was because he hadn’t stolen enough that day, so his pa broke his arm.” She brushed the braid back over her shoulder and studied the girls. “Why do things like that happen here?”

  Birdie snorted. “You think they only happen here? What about where you come from? Is everything so perfect there?”

  Kerry felt a wave of homesickness so strong she almost felt physically ill. “It was perfect for me. I didn’t want to leave; the only thing that made me come here was my brother, Fletcher.”

  Birdie giggled. “Oh, the new duke.” She snickered again. “I hear they call him the Savage.”

  Robbie gasped again, the sound more exasperated than shocked. “Birdie, that’s enough!”

  Kerry was beginning to think she’d had enough of both of them. “He’s no more savage than you are.” She bid them goodbye; she had more to explore than just this small patch of land and some seemingly witless young people.

  She rode her pony into the village center and saw for herself more of the kind of children she had seen the day before, at the clinic. She even recognized one Mrs. Begley had been treating for an earache. He was playing with a scruffy dog outside a ratty-looking saloon.

  Kerry dismounted. “Hello. I saw you yesterday. Do you remember me?” She also remembered that his mother had her arm in a sling.

  The boy continued to stare at her, but gave her a slight nod.

  “My name is Kerry; what’s yours?” She spoke slowly in case he couldn’t understand her English.

  He stuck his finger in his nose and then into his mouth. “Do you have a name, then?”

  He nodded. “Clyde.”

  “Clyde. Well, Clyde, why does your ma have her arm in a sling?”

  Without preamble, he answered, “Me da tossed her down the steps.”

  Kerry’s hand went to her mouth. “Why would he do that?”

  “’Tis his right.”

  Kerry frowned. “It’s his right to throw your ma down the stairs? She isn’t his property, Clyde.”

  “She is,” he asserted.

  Just then a huge man with a red face and big nose pushed the door of the saloon open and stepped outside. His hands were the size of hams. He gave Kerry a disgusted glance and then bellowed, “Clyde! Git yer arse in here. There’s garbage to toss.”

  The boy hurried inside, and before following him the man pointed a sausage-like finger at Kerry and threatened, “And you, missie, you come to spy on me? That witch of a nurse send ya? I knows all about you. Being rich and havin’ a title don’t mean the lord of that manor is someone he ain’t. He ain’t nothing more than a savage, I say. And stay away from me kids.”

  Speechless, her heart in her throat, Kerry mounted Mariah again, prodding the pony with her heels as they trotted away. She wasn’t used to being threatened. Not by anyone.

  She didn’t like it here. Actually, she hated it, and nothing anyone could say or do would ever change her mind. The only thing that kept her from trying to find a way home was that she would disappoint Fletcher. And she couldn’t do that.

  She and Mariah headed out of the village. The crofts became sparser as she went north, and soon she was alone, gazing as the waves lifted and dipped over the sea. She studied her surroundings as Mariah picked her way over the rough tufts of grass and rocks. When Mariah tensed beneath her, she looked into the distance and saw the wild horses she had heard about from Duncan and Gavin. “Mariah, what a magnificent sight,” she murmured to her mount.

  A bit further on, an outcropping of rocks caught her eye. As she got close she realized there was a cave hidden behind the rocks, a shelter from the sea. Leaving Mariah near the entrance, she cautiously stepped inside. As she turned, she realized that the cave faced the water. She sat and rested her back against a rock and took in the sights and sounds, foreign to her, yet peaceful. No one would know where she was and she could sit and watch the ocean for hours. She had found her place. She opened one of the books she’d borrowed from the library, settled in, and began to read.

  • • •

  One late August evening, after the children had been with them for almost three months, Fletcher drew Rosalyn from the solarium and led her upstairs.

  “What’s this?”

  “Do you know that we haven’t shared a bed in over a month?” Fletcher had his arm around her.

  “More like almost three,” she corrected him.

  “So you’ve been counting, have you?”

  She shrugged, pretending nonchalance. “I thought it was perhaps because you found me too unwieldy to take to bed.”

  He stopped and brought her in front of him. “You’re not serious, are you?”

  She gazed up at him, wondering for the millionth time how he could belong to her. “Not entirely,” she admitted. “But you must agree that since the arrival of the children, we’ve had little time together.”

  He turned away, clearly upset.

  Rosalyn put her hand on his arm. “Please, don’t beat yourself up over it. I understand it, believe me, I do. There’s much for you to grasp and learn here, and now with the children…”

  She had noticed the differences between the children since they arrived. Duncan was wilder, taking off on his mount with a loud whoop whenever he got the chance. No one knew for sure what he was up to, but rumor had it that he was already checking out the island lassies. Gavin remained quiet, most often lost in some great tome from the library, although he could also be seen reading outside on the small terrace by the roses, a hound or two asleep at his feet. One day she noticed him sketching something and when she peeked over his shoulder, she saw that he had drawn the stables and a couple of outbuildings. When she’d remarked on how good it was, he had told her that he really preferred drawing maps and measuring distances. “I would like to be a navigator one day,” he had said.

  Early on, she recalled, he had asked, rather shyly, to move the two globes from the dining room into the library, where he could study them.

  Kerry still helped out at the clinic every morning; what she did with the rest of her day was often a question, but presumably she went exploring. And she seemed more comfortable in her surroundings, often even sitting with Rosalyn in the solarium while Rosalyn sewed. Rosalyn encouraged her to talk about Texas, for she was truly curious to know what it was like.

  Fletcher led Rosalyn to her chambers and shut the door behind them. “I hadn’t realized I’d been ignoring you, Rosalyn. I wish you would have said something.”

  Rosalyn smiled. �
��Like what? Please, I’m sorry I mentioned it. It doesn’t bother me, truly it doesn’t. I want the children to be happy, too. That’s the most important thing.”

  He frowned and touched her face. “You look tired. Perhaps you should lie down and rest for a while.”

  She put her hand over his, loving the rough texture against her skin. She hated to admit it, but she was drained. She didn’t recall her first pregnancy taking so much of a toll on her body. Feeling a tweak of spirit, she said, “Won’t you join me?”

  His smile was warm. “Don’t tempt me, Rosalyn. If I were to join you in the bed, it isn’t rest you’d be doing, I can assure you of that.”

  “And maybe I don’t want to rest; what’s your answer to that?”

  He drew her to the bed. “If anything were to happen to that child because I thought I needed to exercise my bag of tricks, I’d never forgive myself.”

  Disappointed, she tilted her head up at him. “It will not harm the bairn.”

  He bent and kissed her forehead. “I don’t want to take any chances, Rosalyn. Now crawl into bed and take a nap like a good girl.”

  She frowned as she watched him walk to the door and leave. He treated her like he’d treat a sister or an elderly aunt. A ragged thought snagged her. Of course he was concerned about the bairn, his heir. Of course. She had known all along that the babe was his first priority, after his family.

  But she loved him already—how could she not? He put everyone’s needs ahead of his own. Now that he’d insisted the crofters had paid enough for their paltry land, they treated him like he’d handed them the sun. All the farmers who raised sheep were eager for him to join them at sheep-shearing time, for he had informed them that he had done his share of shearing in Texas. She had heard there were bets being placed as to how good he actually was. No doubt a bit of coin was involved. The castle help adored him. Even the dogs followed him around like he was the Pied Piper.