Chase the Wind

by Cindy Holby - Wind 01 - Chase the Wind

  Ian was sitting in the chair in the comer between the two windows. She had missed him in the darkness. She crossed over to where he sat and picked up the hand resting wearily on the arm of the chair. He pulled her down onto his lap and buried his face in her hair.

  “How long have you been here?” Her finger traced the curve of his ear.

  “Since I took you to the house. I just couldn’t stay there any longer.” His voice cracked as he spoke. She felt the heat of his arms through the thin silk of her camisole. Her stocking-clad legs hung over the side of the chair, and Ian was running his hand down the length of them.

  “Miriam found your footprints before,” she said softly in his ear.

  “The ground is frozen; there will be no sign tonight.” He drew his head back to look at her. The moon reflecting in her eyes made them turn silver. He ran his hands back up the length of her legs until he came to the top of her stockings. He hooked a finger in the top of one and pulled it down. Faith felt a stiffening underneath her and caught her breath. In the next instant she was on the bed and he was on top of her, kissing her, pressing her into the mattress. His hands were wild in her hair, and his kisses were draining her. She held on to him, because that was the only way she could keep herself from spinning off into space.

  His hand took possession of her breast, and his mouth trailed down to the valley between. She could feel him pressed against her thighs and she became desperate to have him. She pulled his shirt up and ran her hands over his wide chest, down his narrow waist, and dipped her fingers under the waistband of his pants.

  “Faith.” His breathing was ragged, his voice hoarse with desire. “I need you so much.”

  “I know, I know,” she whispered. She moved under him. He rose up over her and began to undo his trousers. She tried to help, but his hand got in her way. He left her hands to accomplish the task and pulled her pantalets down. He started to undo the ribbons on her camisole, but she stopped him and pulled it over her head. The moon shone down on her nakedness, and he drew in his breath at the sight of her. He freed himself from his pants and bent over her, his mouth coming to hers for a kiss.

  “Faith, I would like to talk to you.” It was Miriam knocking on the door. She rattled the knob. Faith and Ian froze where they were, not even breathing. “Faith?” The word was whispered, not insistent. Miriam tried the door again, and then they heard her footsteps fading away. Ian reclaimed his clothes and moved to the chair, running his hands through his hair. Faith sat in the middle of the bed, her quilt gathered around her.

  “Do you remember the song I whistle to the horses?” he asked when a stillness had finally settled over the house. His voice was hushed but clear.

  “Good King Wenceslas?” He leaned forward in the chair, and Faith moved to the side of the bed, the quilt still gathered around her.

  “Do you know the legend?” Faith shook her head. “King Wenceslas was a good king, and one night he and his servant went out to deliver Christmas gifts to the people of the kingdom. They became lost in a blizzard, and an angel of light came and showed them the way to safety.” Ian ran his hands through his hair again and reached out to take one of hers. “You’re my angel of light, Faith; I don’t think I could live without you. Do you know what that means?”

  A tear left a silver trail on her cheek as she whispered, “Yes, I know I can’t live without you either. You consume me.”

  “Are you ready to go, then?”

  “Whenever you say.”

  “Meet me in the woods tomorrow; I need some time to think.” He went to the window and was gone without a sound. Faith could hardly follow his progress down the tree and across the yard, he was that quiet. She closed the window behind him and curled up on her bed and wept.

  The Taylors did not attend church the next day. It was doubtful if anyone of any importance in town did; the cream of society had all been present at the ball the night before. Faith had not slept well. She was haunted by visions of Randolph chasing her, then nightmares of fruitlessly searching the woods for Ian. She finally came down to Sunday dinner, but soon decided that the fare would do nothing for her mood. She needed to get out of the house to meet Ian. She hoped that her father and Miriam were still feeling the effects of the previous night and would retire to their rooms. Before she could excuse herself from the table, however, there was a knocking at the front door. They looked at each other in surprise before her father threw his napkin down in disgust and went to answer the summons. They hardly ever had callers, and never had had one on a Sunday afternoon.

  It was Randolph Mason. Faith’s stomach heaved into her throat and she was overcome with nausea. She wouldn’t have to look for an excuse to leave the house, she was about to provide one on the dining room floor. Miriam gave her a look that would kill as her father escorted the man into the dining room. Her stepmother rose from the table to greet their guest. A few pleasantries were exchanged about the ball, and then Mason turned to Faith, who had turned a shade of pale green.

  “I should like to get to the purpose of my visit, Miss Taylor,” he said as he came around to where Faith was sitting.

  “And what would that be, Mr. Mason?” Miriam asked sweetly. Faith didn’t dare open her mouth for fear of what would come out.

  “I would like to have permission to pay court to Faith,” he said, smiling broadly. Faith jumped out of her chair so quickly, it hit the floor with a bang that echoed through the big, silent house. She ran into the kitchen with her hand over her mouth. Miriam found her as the last of her dinner came up into a bowl on the counter.

  “What is wrong with you?”

  “Something disagreed with me,” Faith gasped from her position over the bowl.

  Miriam flung a cloth at her. “Clean yourself up. Maybe we can still save the day.”

  Faith looked at her as if she had lost her mind. “I am not going out there, Miriam. I will throw myself in the river before I spend one minute with that man.”

  “Do you know what’s at stake here?” Miriam’s tone was venomous.

  “Yes, I do. The rest of my life is at stake.”

  Miriam slapped her. “You ungrateful little bitch.” The words were pure evil.

  Faith took the cloth Miriam had thrown at her and wiped her mouth. She took the bowl she had retched in and washed it out at the pump. She looked out the window at the woods, where she knew Ian was waiting. Her heart ached because she knew she couldn’t go to him now, not with them all watching, not with Mason here. She knew Ian would fight the man if he had a chance, and she couldn’t take the risk.

  “Please give Mr. Mason my apologies.” Faith took the back staircase to her room.

  * * *

  It started sleeting later that afternoon. When the sleet came, Mason left. He had visited with her father and Miriam in the room below hers. She could occasionally hear their laughter drifting up through the floor. She was trapped. As long as they were below her, Ian couldn’t use the tree to come up. She curled up on the bed with her quilt and hoped he’d been safely gone when the sleet came. She didn’t want him out in the woods waiting for her in this weather. He was smart enough to see what was going on and wait for a better time.

  The next Sunday was the first in Advent. It was a beautiful winter day with the sun sparkling on the coating of ice on the trees. Ian had been at church, in the back row as usual, and his grin flashed as he rode by her carriage after church. Faith realized it had been a while since she had seen it. She couldn’t wait to meet him. She began imagining the moment, and then realized that their carriage had passed the turn to their house.

  “Where are we going?” she asked her father. He had just urged the horse into a trot on the frozen ground. Ahead of them was the Masons’ carriage, with Randolph riding alongside on Armageddon.

  “We’ve been invited to dinner.” Miriam smiled sweetly at her from her perch beside her husband.

  Once again, Faith was trapped. She narrowed her eyes at the back of Miriam’s head. She knew Ian would wai
t for her in the woods, but she also knew that he would look for her when she didn’t come. He would see that their carriage had not returned. When they made the turn into the Masons’ drive, she surreptitiously dropped her glove over the side of the carriage.

  Later that afternoon, the two families were gathered in the library. Faith had chosen a straight-backed chair to sit in, the rest were casually arranged on sofas around the fireplace. The men were enjoying snifters of brandy while the women sipped sherry. Faith had declined the offer of a drink. Her perch gave her a view of the drive, and her heart began to pound when she saw Ian coming up it on the chestnut. He dismounted in front of the house, and they soon heard his steady knock on the door. The butler hastened to answer it and soon presented Ian.

  “Yes, Duncan, what is it?” the elder Mason asked, and then quickly explained who Ian was to his guests.

  “I found this out on the drive.” Ian stepped into the room with the glove in his hand. “I thought perhaps it might belong to one of your guests.”

  Faith put her hand to her mouth in pretend surprise. “I believe that could be mine!” she exclaimed and rose from her chair. “Let me check my cloak to see if one is missing.” She was out in the hall before anyone could protest, and the butler led her to where her cloak was hanging. She examined her pockets and held one glove up to the man. He stepped aside to let Ian hand her the other. Ian gave him a look, and the man raised his eyebrows and went back to his post.

  “Leave your window open,” he said with a wink and went out the front door.

  “We believe he’s found a girl in town. He spends every Sunday afternoon there,” Mrs. Mason was saying to Miriam when Faith came back into the library.

  “He’s good with horses, that’s for sure,” Mr. Mason added.

  Randolph snorted his contribution. “His horses don’t have any stamina. That mare of his failed the first time I rode her. He’s going to weaken our stock, I tell you.”

  Mrs. Mason apologized for her son. “He thinks every horse should be like his Armageddon,” she explained.

  Faith mentally compared the big, bulky horse with the delicate Katrina, or even the tall chestnut, and found the black lacking in every category except size. She looked up to find Randolph gazing at her. He tilted his glass to her in a silent toast, and Faith shivered.

  “Are you cold, my dear?” Mrs. Mason asked, concern written on her face.

  “A little,” Faith answered. “I really haven’t felt well since last Sunday. I guess I just need to rest.” She looked pointedly at her father. “It looks like it might snow again.” The clouds were indeed starting to gather outside.

  Shrugging, her father got up to leave. It was obvious Faith was not going to cooperate today, so they might as well go home.

  Faith was sound asleep when Ian crept into her room later that night. She had left her window wide open and was buried under the covers. It had indeed snowed again, and wet flakes dripped off his hair and into her face when he moved the covers down to find her. She came up out of the bed and threw her arms around him.

  “Silly thing, I just meant for you to leave it cracked, not wide open to let all the weather in.”

  “Oh, Ian, when can we leave?” she cried into his neck. He pushed her back so he could see her face. He smoothed her hair back and smiled tenderly at her.

  “Next Sunday eve, at bedtime,” he said. “The moon will be starting its cycle again, so we’ll be able to travel at night.” He kissed her forehead. “Make your bed up so if they check Monday morning they’ll think you’re still sleeping.” He hugged her again. “I just hope I can make it through another week without wringing Mason’s neck.”

  Faith put a pillow over her mouth to stifle her laugh. “Me too,” she squeaked.

  Clouds were gathering in the summer sky. Tall thunderheads began stacking one upon the other on the Ohio side of the river. In the upstairs comer bedroom of the Taylor house, Faith’s sleep became troubled, her face lined with stress as she dreamed about a winter’s day in mid-December.

  They were leaving that night. Ian had ridden past her after church and included a wink with the standard grin. After the usual quiet Sunday dinner, Faith had escaped to her room to pack. Her warmest clothes were waiting in the bottom of her wardrobe. In a small carpetbag she placed a few essentials, along with her mother’s Bible and the quilt. There was nothing left to do now but wait. She had nothing to hold her there. The only relation she had in this world was a father who had barely noticed her in the twenty years of her life. She realized she wouldn’t miss him a bit.

  She restlessly puttered about the room, straightening odds and ends, and then decided to try to rest. She knew that they would be riding all night, so it was best to sleep now, but slumber eluded her. The anticipation of being with Ian filled her mind. Eventually she did doze off and was awakened some time later by a feeling of disquiet. She lay there a minute, trying to decipher the mood of the house, but all was still. Maybe her father and Miriam had gone out, she thought.

  She decided to visit the kitchen to see what kind of stores she could collect for their escape. She crept down the back stairs and had started into the kitchen when a flash of color caught her eye. She peered around a corner and saw Miriam standing in the main hall, her ear pressed to the closed door of the drawing room. Something was going on.

  Faith went around into the dining room and crept up on the closed double doors that separated the two rooms. There was a crack between the doors, and she peered through. She saw her father deep in conference with Randolph Mason. She put her ear to the crack to hear.

  “I tell you the bastard is planning to steal her away.” Randolph’s words hung viciously in the air.

  “How can you say that?” Her father’s voice was desperate.

  “He has a bad habit of talking to his horses. I overheard him myself today.”

  “But she doesn’t even know the man,” her father exclaimed.

  “How many women named Faith are there that look like a silver angel?” Mason sneered.

  “What are we to do?” Her father dropped wearily into a chair.

  “You keep your daughter in line, and I will take care of him.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s threatened to kill me over that worthless mare. It would be a simple thing for me to gun him down and claim self-defense.” Mason seemed to relish the idea. “There were witnesses to the threat, and I’m sure some could convinced to say they saw the deed—perhaps even you, Taylor.”

  Her father wrung his hands.

  Faith felt as if she were sliding into a hole.

  “Of course you know I can’t pay you as much now, since she will be a tainted bride.” The words hung heavy in the room.

  “I swear to you, she’s not been with any man.” Her father was practically begging.

  “I won’t know that for sure until our wedding night, and by then it will be too late to return the damaged goods,” Mason continued. “You’d best take what I give you and be happy with it.”

  Her father’s face was that of a man who had just made and lost a fortune. Faith could not believe it. Her father had sold her to Randolph Mason.

  “Do you have to kill him?” the beleaguered man finally asked. “I would hate for this death to be connected to our name somehow. It would be a shame to tarnish the reputation of your bride.”

  Apparently, Mason hadn’t thought of that. “No, we can’t have that. We’ll just have to make sure she stays out of it.”

  “Perhaps we can convince him that she won’t go with him.”

  “I plan on having a talk with him myself about that very thing,” Mason said with relish. “I have a few men in my employ who are even now arranging a surprise for that arrogant stable boy.” Mason rubbed his fist as if in anticipation of using it against Ian’s strong bronze jaw. “I also have men posted on the road to the east. If he’s decided to take her back to Richmond, he will be killed on sight and she will be returned posthaste.”

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nbsp; Faith looked out the window in panic. Dusk was coming, and Ian would arrive soon, to wait for her in the barn. She knew beyond a doubt that Mason would kill him, and no one would care or do anything about it. Worse, if Ian killed Mason, he would be hanged right before her eyes. She had to protect him, and the only way to do that was to send him away without her. She wiped her tears with the back of her hand and went out through the kitchen to the barn.

  Ian arrived nearly an hour later. Faith had taken shelter in the stall with their one horse for warmth. She was standing with her arms around the animal’s neck when she heard a soft creak from the back of the building. She came out of the stall and saw him standing in the shadows.

  He stepped out into the light. His hair had fallen over his eyes again and he pushed the mass back. “You’re hardly dressed for traveling,” he said, moving his hand to indicate the Sunday dress she was still wearing.

  “I can’t go with you.” Her voice broke on the words, and she clenched her fists together in the folds of her dress. She couldn’t cry now or he would know she was lying and do something foolish.

  Ian grabbed her shoulders and gently shook her. “What do you mean?” His deep blue eyes bored into her soul, and anguish covered his face.

  “I can’t go with you. I need to know that I’ll have a home, a nice home, and clothes, and parties and . . .”

  “All the things that a man like Randolph Mason can give you.” He ground the man’s name out between clenched teeth.

  She tremblingly nodded her assent, and he pushed her away in disgust. She caught herself and put her hand over her mouth to cover the sob that erupted from within. Ian had his back to her.

  “Was it all a lie, then?”

  She couldn’t answer; she had to make him leave before it was too late.

  “What’s going on here?” It was her father, coming through the door in a rush. Faith prayed that Mason wasn’t with him. Her father walked up between them. Ian turned and looked beyond him at Faith, who could not control the flood of tears that burst from her eyes.