"There's nothing you can do to stop me," Sarah said.
"Oh, yes, there is." Jon pulled her to him and covered her mouth with his. But before the kiss could deepen, Sarah jerked her head to one side. He attempted to hold her and capture her mouth again, but she forced her arms between them, shoving against his chest.
"Stop it, Jon!" she cried. "I don't want this! The fact that we’ve indulged in a few weeks of dallying does not mean you own me." Yanking herself free, she dashed into the bedroom and slammed the door.
"Dallying! Is that all this has been to you?" Jon burst open the door and glared at her.
"I don't know why you seem so surprised," Sarah said, cradling a stack of fabric to her chest. "I never led you to believe it was anything else. Nor do I want to be your mistress." She brushed past him, knelt down and continued packing.
"I don't believe you can just dismiss what we have."
"I'm not dismissing it," Sarah said. "I'll always cherish it. But I made no promises and nothing has changed. I will see my business become a success, but not in Victoria. And I will maintain my earnings, my independence, and my rights as a human being."
"I don't know how you can be so indifferent." Jon took her arm and dragged her to her feet. "Look at me and tell me you don't want me."
Sarah lifted her chin and said in a firm voice, "I don't want you, Jon. Now please go. I have a steamer to catch and things to pack and you're in the way."
She tried to pull free, but Jon tightened his hand, his fingers digging into her arm. "You're leaving me for a goddamned bloody mercantile business!"
"Let me go. You're hurting me."
Jon's fingers tightened. "It seems your brothers were right. You do have your means of getting what you want, and it's obvious what you wanted from me from the start. After all, as governor, I should be able to pave some ways for you. But you quit too soon. You should have opted for a letter of introduction to give to Governor Seymour when you get to New Westminster. Now there's a thought. Maybe for a quick roll in bed I'd be willing. But then, maybe I wouldn't. I don't relish the idea of having my eyes scratched out by a loose-tailed little hellcat."
Sarah cocked her arm and slapped Jon hard across the face, but he caught her by the wrist before she could. Eyeing him with undisguised fury, she said, "Get out! Get out of my house!"
Jon's eyes blazed. "I'll get out. Sure as hell, I'll get out. But first..." He dragged her into his arms and pressed his mouth on hers, his hand tight against her head so she couldn't break loose. She struggled in his arms and squealed her protest against his unyielding mouth, but the kiss was unrelenting. Then he released her abruptly, and said in a gruff voice, "Goodbye, sweetheart!"
He stormed out of the house, sending the door crashing shut behind him. Yelling a string of expletives, he cracked his whip and sent the buggy rattling away.
It wasn't until then that every nerve in Sarah's body seemed to snap. Tears rolled down her cheeks, her body began to shake uncontrollably, and she felt as if her heart were being crushed.
CHAPTER TWENTY
As she'd done several times before, Sarah peered through the window, half-expecting to see Jon's black-and-green phaeton. She envisioned him sweeping open the door again, but this time he'd force her to admit she'd lied, that she really did want him. And she would admit it. Ever since he'd stormed out she'd been fighting the urge to go to him. But it would be pointless. Nothing had changed. And nothing would. She envisioned Jon's face when she'd told him she didn't want him. At first she’d seen shock, then disbelief, and finally, anger.
She gazed up at a leaden sky churning with dark clouds, a sky that reminded her of the turmoil she'd felt on hearing Jon's cruel words. Horrible, brutal words that made her feel cheap, like the wanton whore Hollis said she was. How long would it take to get over the terrible despair? A year? Two years? In time, she'd come to terms with it. But for now, she felt lost, her life pointless, the world colorless and flat. Closing her eyes, she felt as if she were plummeting into an oblivion where she would drift aimlessly through an eternity alone. Teetering on the brink of tears, she opened her eyes, turned from the window, and determined to snap out of her morose mood. She refused to indulge in any more noisy floods of weeping.
She looked around. She'd hired two boys to load the trunks into the pie wagon, and now the room seemed so bare. No sewing machines or patterns or lengths of fabric. No lacy curtains on the windows. And in less than two hours, she'd sail out of Jon's life.
Mandi promised to visit her. New Westminster was not so far away. She'd told Mandi goodbye the night before, when she'd also explained her decision to move to another city poised on the verge of growth, one where she could see her business become a success. She'd been careful not to reveal to Mandi her true motives for leaving. She couldn't face the shame of telling her that Jon had wanted her only as his mistress.
The sound of horses' hooves sent her rushing to open the door. But instead of seeing Jon, she found a boy about twelve dismounting. He sprinted up the footpath, swept off his hat and held it between nervous fingers, and said, "Miss Ashley?"
"Yes."
"This is for you." He handed her a note.
Sarah unfolded the paper and read the hastily scrawled words: Miss Ashley, please meet me on Kaindler's Wharf at three o'clock. I have several orders for you. D.P
Sarah couldn't remember which of the women on the waterfront was D.P. But since the steamer wasn't leaving until four o'clock, she'd have time to meet briefly with the woman, explain her plans, and obtain the orders, which she’d fill when she was settled in New Westminster. She’d ship the outfits to the woman later. But at least it was a start. She gave the boy some coins and a message to tell the woman she'd be there.
A little before three o'clock, she gathered the last of her belongings, closed up the cottage and headed for the waterfront. She parked the pie wagon near the wharf and looked for the woman, but found only seamen and prospectors. After twenty minutes, the woman had not arrived, and Sarah knew she couldn't wait any longer. She still had to take her trunks to the steamer dock for loading and return the pie wagon to the livery in time to catch the boat. Taking a last look around the waterfront, she headed for her wagon. But as she approached it, something about the situation brought on a vague uneasiness. She also noticed that another wagon was parked directly behind hers, even though there was ample room for parking all along the street.
Feeling uneasy, she mounted the box and reached for the reins. But before she could move, a large hand darted out from behind and covered her mouth, and a powerful arm clamped around her ribs and dragged her backward inside the wagon. She tried to cry out, but the cry was silenced by a blow to the back of her head, followed by the feel of something being poured down her throat. The twist of a gag cinched fast around her mouth stifled her involuntary coughs. Immediately, her ankles were bound and her hands forced behind her back and wrapped. Struggling against the restraints, she was enveloped by a blanket, which was trussed securely around her until she was unable to move. She felt herself being lifted out of the wagon by two pairs of hands. Bucking inside her blanket cocoon, she attempted to scream through the gag, but her muffled sounds died as a sudden dizziness sent her head swirling into darkness...
***
Jon paced the stables like a caged animal. He had a colony to run, but all he could think of was Sarah, how her lips curved in that engaging little smile when she bested him, and the way sparks ignited the impassioned depths of her eyes when she was aroused, and how her arms clung to him when he held her. And she'd simply walked out of his life.
Like Caroline, Sarah swept him off his feet, betrayed him, and walked out of his life. But she hadn't betrayed him for another man. She'd betrayed him for a bloody business. She'd offered no justification for what she was doing. She'd callously repeated words he'd exacted from her... then dismissed him. She didn't want him in her life. And he burned with the desire to possess her body and soul. He'd half-expected her to stop in to see h
im before the steamer left, to at least express some regret over their angry parting. But she hadn't. Nor had she changed her mind about leaving. He'd returned to the cottage later, only to find it empty.
Yet, things didn't fit. She'd cleared all of the business hurdles set in her path, and he'd even agreed to get her a building, so it didn't seem probable that she was leaving because of her business. Unless something happened while he was away. He eyed Peterson, who seemed just as baffled at Sarah's hasty departure as he. "You must have heard something, Peterson. I'm not accusing you of talking. I just thought maybe you'd have heard something, perhaps from Ida, that came from Mandi. If you know anything, anything at all, I want to hear it."
"No one's said nothin', leastways nothin' to me. But..." He scratched his chin.
"But what? Dammit, man. Talk!"
Peterson shrugged. "It might have somethin’ to do with Lady Cromwell visitin' Miss Ashley."
"Lady Cromwell?"
"While you was away, Lady Cromwell had me drive her to Miss Ashley’s place."
Jon's eyes narrowed. Hellfire and damnation! His mother. This was her doing. "Thank you, Peterson. I believe you've just given me my answer." He turned from the stables and headed toward the house in long determined strides. Marching into his mother's bedroom, he said, "What the blazes did you say to Sarah to make her leave?"
His mother fussed with her fichu. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"The devil you don't!"
Dorothy's thin nostrils flared. "Don't look at me as if I'd sprouted horns, a forked tail, and cloven hooves. I did it for your own good. As long as you persisted in dilly-dallying with the woman, your career was at stake. And now the decent folks in this town can talk of nothing but the fact that their esteemed governor has taken a mistress."
"Bloody hell!" Jon's clenched fist crashed down on the dresser. "The whole lot of them can go to the devil!"
Dorothy flinched. "Is she your mistress?"
Jon's eyes bored into hers. "That's no one's business but mine."
Dorothy's bottom lip quivered with vexation. "What do you suppose your daughters must think, hearing that their father has taken up with—"
"The woman he loves! The woman he wants to spend the rest of his life with!" Jon's chest felt as if it were being crushed, and a dull pain accompanied each beat of his heart. It came to him then that he no longer wanted Sarah for his mistress. He wanted her as his wife. But marriage had never been an option. Sarah made it clear she intended to maintain her independence, and nothing had changed, not his presence in her life, nor their growing love. But thanks to his mother, Sarah learned that the town was buzzing with gossip about her being his mistress, so even that wasn't an option now. She'd been too humiliated to stay in Victoria and face the hypocrites who gossiped righteously during the day and crept into their lovers' beds at night, and he'd acted like all the other bastards in her life, calling her a loose-tailed hellcat and storming out in a rage, when the truth was, she was a woman who would not feel passion without love. A sensitive, vulnerable woman who was too independent to be a man's wife, and too proud to be his mistress. A woman who loved him enough to leave him.
And he didn't know what to do about it.
He glared at his mother, whose lips had flattened in annoyance. "Stay out of my personal life!" he shouted, and stormed out of the room, colliding with Ida in the hallway.
Ida pulled herself together. "There's a rather disreputable-looking gentleman here to see you. He says his name is Mr. Ely Cooper. Shall I send him away?"
"Cooper? He's from the livery," Jon said, puzzled. "No, I'll see what he wants."
Ely Cooper stood waiting in the entry. "'Scuse me for disturbin' you, guv'nor, but there's somethin' I think you might want to know."
"Yes?" Jon saw from the nervous way Ely turned his hat in his hands that he was agitated about something.
"When I arrived at the livery this mornin', old Judd had wandered in by hisself and was standin' there with the wagon Miss Ashley had jobbed. The wagon still had all Miss Ashley's goods in it, but she weren't nowheres about. I knew from the pile layin' behind old Judd that he'd been there awhile, so I 'spect he come sometime durin' the night." Ely dropped his eyes downward. "Knowin' your fondness for the lady, I thought you might oughta know."
Jon combed his fingers through his hair. There could be any number of explanations. Sarah could have hired someone to deliver the trunks to the wharf and return the wagon to the livery, and the person might have neglected to do so. Or she could have left the wagon parked somewhere and the old horse wandered off with it...
"Did the trunks look disturbed, as if something might have happened?"
"Well, yes, sir, they did... some," Ely replied. "A small one was toppled, and some goods was tossed about like there'd been a scuffle or somethin'."
"A scuffle?" The chilling possibility that something dire had happened to Sarah hit Jon with the impact of a severe blow. He braced his hand against the wall until the lightness passed.
"You okay, guv'nor?"
"Oh... uh... yes." Jon sucked in a long breath to try to calm the beating of his heart. He fumbled in his pocket and drew out a gold piece. Pressing it into Ely's hand, he said, "Go to the waterfront and start asking questions, see what you can learn about what happened."
"Yes, sir," Ely said. "I know some lads who know just about everything that goes on down there. I'll hustle 'em up and see what they can find out."
Immediately, Jon mounted his horse and raced for town and told Sheriff Heaton what happened, and Heaton and his deputies began combing the waterfront and searching backstreets and alleys. Two hours later, Heaton located Jon on the wharf at the foot of Yates Street, and said, "We talked to a woman who said she was one of Miss Ashley's customers. She claimed she saw two men hauling something big from the pie wagon, that it could've been a woman wrapped in a blanket. They dumped it into another wagon and drove off. I'm afraid it looks like she's been shanghaied."
Jon felt his heart squeezed as though in a vise. "Those bloody rutting bastards in the goldfields will kill her."
"It looks bad," Heaton agreed. "Meanwhile, we checked sailing schedules for ships that left port yesterday and today, just in case things turned out this way. Along with the Revelation, which we discounted, it being the mission ship and all, there were three other steamers heading for the goldfields: the Prince George, the Vanderhoof, and the Lillooet. Of course, she could have been transported in a smaller vessel."
"Then we'll go after them," Jon said, clenching his jaws with grim determination. "Tell Dudley to make ready the Hudson, and tell Burlington to meet me in my office. And I'll need some men." Blood drummed in his ears. He'd battle his way through hell and throw himself at Sarah's feet if only to beg her forgiveness for the callous, no, brutal things he'd said to her. Nothing mattered now but finding her and telling her he loved her, unequivocally.
***
As the gangway of the Hudson settled against the dock, jagged lightning stabbed through the clouds, and thunder cracked with a deafening report, rumbling and rolling and gaining momentum as it feathered out across the sky. Standing on the deck, Jon tugged his hat lower to fend off gust-blown raindrops that whipped around him. He gazed at the derelict town, another nameless settlement of tents and shacks and hovels and bawdy hotels dotting the banks of the Fraser River. The hamlet was deserted, save for a few paltry prospectors who slogged ankle-deep in the slurry. Was Sarah imprisoned in one of the ramshackle hotels overlooking the muddy street? Or perhaps locked in one of the shacks or hovels cluttering the riverbank? Or would this be just another futile stop like all the others? It had been six hellish days since she'd disappeared.
What kind of barbaric nightmare had she endured? When he found her, if he found her, he'd kill the blackhearted bastards who kidnapped her. He'd kill any man who'd had her...
"Governor?"
Jon turned to find Daniel Fenster, one of the deputies accompanying him. Fenster handed over the rei
ns of Jon's bay gelding and stood beside Jon while holding his own horse. He pointed north along the river. "Looks like most of the settlement stretches up that trail. I'll head on up that way and start asking questions, and Derry can head south, if that sounds all right."
Jon heaved a burdensome sigh. "I guess that's about all we can do." Scanning the saloons, dance halls and hotels, he decided to start questioning at Goldie's Saloon, an ornate, high-fronted building just up the road. It appeared to be the most prosperous of the bunch, and seemed to be packed to capacity. He led his horse down the gangway, then mounted and rode up the road to Goldie's. Inside, he questioned a bartender, who promptly suggested he talk to Goldie. The scene was almost a repeat of the three previous stops: question the bartender, talk to the madam and meet Rosie or Kate or any of a half-dozen jades who chucked him under the chin and tried to lure him to her bed.
He knocked on the door labeled Office and was promptly met by a wiry little woman with spectacles propped on her nose and a tangle of peppery-gray hair caught on top of her head and held in place with a tortoiseshell comb. "I'm looking for Miss Goldie," he said.
"I'm Goldie." The woman's eyes roamed down the length of him and meandered up again. She smiled, revealing crooked teeth with a lower tooth missing. "Well, come on in, honey. I've been waitin' for you." She tugged his arm to usher him into the room and kicked the door shut.
Puzzled, Jon peered down at the tiny woman. Had word of his mission already reached this godforsaken place? "Do you know something about Miss Ashley?"
Her measuring stare still fixed on him, Goldie appeared to be assessing the breadth of his shoulders. "I don't know no Miss Ashley," she said, "but I've got girls here who'll make you sizzle in more places than you know you got, if you know what I mean." Her gaze dropped, and she stared pointedly. "And from the looks of you, big fella, you just might get my girls to sizzlin', too." Her laugh was low and raspy.
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