by Sarah Lark
Gwyneira was in for a very unpleasant surprise. A number of the men had come on foot, and Gerald—starting out with a nasty hangover but already drunk again by midday and still incensed at Fleurette’s renewed recalcitrance—had promised them horses from Kiward Station. He did not, however, let Gwyneira know right away, so she did not have time to have workhorses sent over from the summer paddocks. The men hooted as they divided up her valuable cobs that afternoon. Fleurette watched helplessly from her bedroom window as one after the other tried to ride Niniane.
“Mother, he can’t just give her to them! She belongs to us,” she wailed.
Gwyneira shrugged. “He’s only lending them to the men; they won’t be allowed to keep them. But I don’t like it either. Most of these brutes can’t even ride properly. That’s good for us, however. You can already see how the horses are bucking them off. When they come back, though, we’re going to have to break them in all over again.”
“But Niniane…”
“I can’t do anything to change it, dear. They want Morgaine too. Perhaps I can talk to Gerald again tomorrow, but he’s taken leave of his senses today. And this Sideblossom fellow is behaving as though he owns the place: he’s telling people where they can stay and ordering them around; he acts as though I weren’t even here. As soon as the fool’s gone, I’m going to cross myself three times. In any case, you won’t be attending the banquet tonight. I’ve already explained that. You’re sick. I don’t want Sideblossom to catch sight of you again.”
Secretly, Gwyneira had long since planned to take their horses to safety that night. Under no circumstances would she send her valuable broodmares into the highlands with the search party. She had arranged with Andy McAran, Poker Livingston, and her other trusted workers to drive the horses away that night. As long as they just pranced about the pastures, she would have time enough to gather them up again in the coming days. The men would fetch the workhorses and place them in the stalls. It might cause a bit of uproar in the morning, but John Sideblossom surely wouldn’t delay their endeavor over different horses.
She did not tell Fleurette that, however. She was too afraid the girl might want to take part in the action.
“Niniane will be back the day after tomorrow at the latest,” she comforted Fleur. “She’ll throw her would-be rider and come home. She won’t put up with such nonsense. But right now I need to change. Dinner with the captains of the military expedition awaits. What expense over one man!”
Gwyneira retired, and Fleurette stayed behind, brooding angrily. She was not about to acquiesce to her helplessness. Gerald was giving Niniane away out of pure spite. Fleur hatched a plan. She would lead her horse to safety while the men were getting drunk in the salon. To manage it, she would have to slip out of her room right then, since every path to the stables led through the salon, which was empty for the moment. The guests attending the banquet that night were changing, and sheer chaos reigned outside. She would not be noticed if she put her hair under a bandana and hurried. It was only a few steps from the kitchen door to the barn. If someone saw her, they’d take her for a kitchen maid.
Fleur’s plan might even have succeeded if Paul had not been watching his sister. The boy was once more in low spirits; his idol, John Sideblossom, ignored him, and Gerald had gruffly turned down his request to be allowed to partake in the expedition. Since he had nothing better to do and was prowling around the stables, he was naturally very interested when he saw Fleur hide herself in the barn. Paul could piece together for himself what she had in mind. But he would make sure that Gerald caught her red-handed later.
Gwyneira needed all her patience and forbearance to get through the banquet that evening. She was the only woman present, and without exception they were all drunk by the time they sat down to dinner. Before starting to eat, they downed another couple of glasses; then wine was poured. The first one soon began to prattle. They all laughed at one another’s dumb jokes, yelled dirty jibes at each other, and behaved toward Gwyneira in anything but a gentlemanlike manner.
She only began to feel truly uncomfortable when John Sideblossom suddenly approached her after the final course.
“We need to speak, Mrs. Warden,” he said in his typically direct fashion, once again appearing sober among all the drunkards. However, Gwyneira had gotten to know him a bit better and knew how to recognize the signs of intoxication in him. His eyelids hung a bit lower, and his gaze was suspicious and shifty instead of cool and distant. Although Sideblossom still kept his feelings reined in, they simmered just beneath the surface.
“I think you know I asked for your daughter’s hand yesterday. Fleurette turned me down.”
Gwyneira shrugged. “She has the right. In the civilized world, women are asked before they’re married off. And if Fleur did not like you, there’s nothing I can do about it.”
“You could put in a good word for me, madam,” Sideblossom said.
“I’m afraid that wouldn’t do any good,” Gwyneira remarked, her own feelings slowly bubbling to the surface. “And I wouldn’t do it of my own accord anyway. I do not know you well, Mr. Sideblossom, but I don’t like what I’ve seen.”
John Sideblossom grimaced. “Well, look-y here! The lady doesn’t like me! And what do you have against me, Lady Warden?” he asked coldly.
Gwyneira sighed. She had not wanted to get into a discussion…but fine, if that’s what he wanted.
“Going on the warpath against a single man,” she began, “does not seem appropriate to me. And you exert a bad influence on the other farmers. Without your whispering to him, Lord Barrington would never have sunk so low as to join such a band of ruffians as the one now camped outside. Your behavior toward me is insulting, even leaving Fleurette entirely out of this. A gentleman, Mr. Sideblossom, in your position would strive to change the girl’s mind. You, on the other hand, give affront to Fleurette by initiating this business with the horses. That was your idea, was it not? Gerald has been too drunk for such schemes for a long time.”
Gwyneira spoke quickly and full of wrath. Everything was fraying her nerves at that moment. And there was Paul, who had joined them and avidly followed her outburst.
John Sideblossom laughed. “Touché, my dear! A little tongue-lashing. I don’t like it when people don’t listen to me. But just you wait. I’ll get your little girl yet. I’ll push my proposal when we return. Against your will if I must.”
Gwyneira wanted to bring the conversation to an end. “Then I wish you luck,” she said stiffly. “And you, Paul, come with me upstairs, please. I hate it when you slink behind me and eavesdrop.”
The boy cringed. But what he had heard here was worth the dressing down. Perhaps Gerald was not the right audience for his information on Fleurette. It would cause her much more pain if this was the man who thwarted her “horse theft.”
When Gwyneira retired to her room, Paul turned on his heels and went looking for John Sideblossom. The farmers looked increasingly bored in one another’s company. No wonder—aside from him, everyone else was fall-down drunk.
“You…you want to marry my sister?” Paul spoke to him.
Sideblossom looked down at him, caught off guard.
“Well, that’s my intention. You got an objection too?” he asked, sounding amused.
Paul shook his head. “As far as I’m concerned, you can have her. But you should know something about her. Fleurette acts all innocent. But she’s already had a beau. Ruben O’Keefe.”
Sideblossom nodded. “I know,” he said, disinterested.
“But she didn’t tell you everything!” Paul upped the ante. “She didn’t tell you that she did it with him. But I saw it!”
Sideblossom’s interest was aroused. “What did you say? Your sister’s not a virgin anymore?”
Paul shrugged. The word “virgin” did not mean anything to him.
“Ask her yourself,” he said. “She’s in the barn.”
John Sideblossom found Fleurette in Niniane’s stall, where the girl was
just considering what her best course of action would be. Should she simply drive Niniane outside? Then there was the danger that she would not run from the stables at all but stay close to the other horses. Maybe it would be better to ride her away and put her up in a paddock farther away. However, that seemed risky, as she would have to find her way back on foot, past all the outbuildings, which were stuffed full of the search party’s drunk recruits.
Still contemplating her options, she scratched her horse under its forelock and spoke to it. The other horses suddenly got excited, and Gracie sniffed at the straw. With all that going on, it escaped Fleurette’s attention that someone was quietly opening the door. By the time Gracie became aware of what was going on and started barking, it was too late. John Sideblossom was standing in the stable aisle smirking at Fleurette.
“So, little girl. At night we sneak out to the stables, eh? I’m surprised to run into you here alone.”
Fleurette was frightened and moved instinctively behind her horse.
“These are our stables,” she replied bravely. “I can be here whenever I want. And I’m not sneaking around; I’m visiting my horse.”
“You’re visiting your horse. How touching.” Sideblossom stepped forward. His approach reminded Fleur of a predator slinking up to its prey, and that dangerous spark was in his eyes again. “Didn’t have any other visits in mind?”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Fleurette hoped her voice sounded firm.
“You know very well what I mean. You play the innocent little schoolgirl who promised herself to a young buck, but in reality, you’ve been rolling in the hay with him already. Don’t bother denying it, Fleurette. I have it from reliable sources, even if I didn’t catch you in flagrante today. But you’re in luck, sweetheart. I take used goods too. In fact, I don’t care much for coy prudes. It’s just troublesome to wear them down. So no worries, you can wear white at the altar. But I can have a little foretaste, can’t I?”
In a single motion, he pulled Fleurette out from behind the horse. Niniane spooked and fled to a corner of the stall. Gracie began to bark.
“Leave me alone!” Fleurette yelled, kicking at her attacker, but John Sideblossom merely laughed. He pushed her against the wall of the stall with his powerful arms and smothered her face with his lips.
“You’re drunk; let me go!” Fleur tried to bite him, but John’s reflexes still functioned perfectly despite all the whiskey. He jerked back and slapped her in the face. Fleur fell backward out of the stall and landed on a bale of straw. Sideblossom was on top of her before she could get to her feet.
“Now let’s see what you have to offer.” Sideblossom ripped her blouse open and admired her still slight breasts.
“Lovely…just about a handful!” Laughing, he reached for her. Fleurette tried to kick him again, but he laid his leg over her knee, holding her down.
“Now stop romping around like an unbroken horse. Just let me…” He was looking for the fastener to her skirt, which he did not find right away on the tailored riding dress. Fleurette tried to scream, and bit him on the hand when he covered her mouth.
“I like it when a woman keeps her temper in check!” He burst out with laughter.
Fleur sobbed, and Grace barked hysterically. Then a sharp voice pierced the tumult in the stables.
“Let my daughter go before my temper gets away from me!” Gwyneira stood in the door with a rifle in her hand, which she held aimed at Sideblossom. Fleur recognized Andy McAran and Poker Livingston behind her.
“Now, now, easy, I…” John let go of Fleurette and held up his hands in a gesture of defeat.
“We’re going to have a talk in a moment, Mr. Sideblossom. Fleur, did he do anything to you?” Gwyneira asked as she handed Andy the gun and took her daughter in her arms.
Fleurette shook her head. “No. He…he just grabbed me. Oh, Mummy, it was horrible!”
Gwyneira nodded. “I know, dear. But now it’s over. Go into the house quickly. As far as I could tell, the party in the salon is over. But your grandfather might still be carousing with a few of them in his study, so be careful. I’ll be in in a moment.”
Fleurette did not need to be told twice. Trembling, she pulled the tatters of her blouse over her breasts and took flight. The men respectfully made way as she ran headlong through the barn and into the kitchen. She longed for the safety of her room—and her mother could trust her to cross the salon as fast as the wind.
“Where is Sideblossom?” Gerald Warden asked. To his mind, the evening was far from over. He was very drunk, just like the other farmers raising their glasses in the study, but that did not stop him from suggesting a card game. Reginald Beasley, who rarely drank so much, had already agreed, and Lord Barrington was also inclined to play. They needed a fourth, and John Sideblossom had for many years been his favorite buddy when it came to cleaning out his opponents in blackjack.
“He went out earlier. To bed, probably,” Barrington told him. “Couldn’t hold an…anymore, the yo…young buck.”
“Johnny Sideblossom has yet to ever turn down a round!” Gerald defended his friend. “He always drinks everyone under the table. Has to be around here somewhere.” Gerald was drunk enough to look under the table for Sideblossom. Beasley cast a glance into the salon, but only Paul was sitting there. His head was sunk in a book, but in reality he was waiting. His sister and John Sideblossom would have to return eventually. And this position offered him the opportunity to further compromise his sister.
“Are you looking for Mr. Sideblossom?” he asked politely and in such a resonant voice that it did not escape anyone in the study. “He’s in the stables with my sister.”
Gerald Warden stormed out of the study, filled with the kind of holy rage that only whiskey could bring about.
“The damnable little whore! First she acts as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, and then she disappears off to the hay with Johnny. When she knows that raises the price of the dowry. If he even takes her at all, then it’ll only be because he’s getting half my farm!”
Reginald Beasley followed him, hardly any less incensed. She had turned down his proposal. And now she was rolling in the hay with this Sideblossom fellow?
At first the men were uncertain whether they should head in through the main entrance or the kitchen door to catch the couple in the barn. It was silent for several seconds as they weighed the options. Before they could make a move, they heard the sound of the kitchen door opening. Fleurette shuffled into the salon—and stood shocked in front of her grandfather and his drinking buddy.
“You wicked little strumpet!” Gerald dealt her her second slap of the evening. “Where’s your lover, eh? Where’s Johnny? He’s certainly a cad to be dragging you off practically in front of my eyes. But this isn’t how someone behaves, Fleurette; it most definitely is not!” He struck her in the chest, but she remained standing. She did not manage, however, to hold tight to the tatters of her blouse. She sobbed when the thin material fell from her grasp, exposing her breasts to the view of all the men.
Gerald seemed to sober up. If he had been alone, he would no doubt have felt something other than shame, but for now the health of his business interests took precedence over his lust. After this incident, he would never be able to pawn Fleurette off on an upstanding man. John Sideblossom would have to take her, and that meant her honor had to be at least halfway preserved.
“Cover yourself and go to your room,” he ordered, turning his gaze away. “We’ll announce your engagement tomorrow, even if I have to force the cad to the altar with a loaded shotgun. Or you, for that matter. There’ll be no more fuss.” Fleurette was too shocked and exhausted to reply. She tugged her blouse closed and fled upstairs.
Gwyneira found her an hour later, weeping and trembling under her blankets. Gwyneira was trembling herself, but with rage. At herself first and foremost, for dealing with Sideblossom and taking the horses to safety instead of accompanying Fleurette back to the house. Not that it would have helped much
. The two women would just have heard Gerald’s outburst together instead of an hour apart, because the men had not yet gone to bed. After the tongue-lashing from Gwyneira in the stables, John Sideblossom had joined them and told them heaven only knew what. Gerald had been waiting for Gwyneira, to make more or less the same threats and accusations to her. He was not interested in the other side of the story or in witnesses. He was insistent that Fleur and John would be engaged in the morning.
“And the…the worst thing is, he’s right,” Fleur stammered. “No one will…will even believe me now. They…they’ll tell the whole area. If I say no now, in front of the…the pastor, they’ll laugh at me.”
“Then let them laugh,” Gwyneira said firmly. “You won’t marry this Sideblossom, as sure as I’m standing here.”
“But…but Grandfather is my guardian. He’ll force me.” Fleurette sobbed.
Gwyneira made a decision. Fleur had to leave this place. And she would only go if Gwyneira told her the truth.
“Listen, Fleur, Gerald Warden cannot force you to do anything. He is, strictly speaking, not even your guardian.”
“But…”
“He’s considered your guardian because he’s taken for your grandfather. But he isn’t. Lucas Warden was not your father.”
There. She’d said it. Gwyneira bit her lip.
Fleurette’s sobs caught in her throat.
“But…”
Gwyneira sat beside her and took her in her arms. “Listen, Fleur. Lucas was a good man. But he…well, he could not produce children. We tried, but it never worked. And your grandfath…and Gerald Warden made life a living hell for us because he did not have an heir for Kiward Station. And so I…so I…”
“You cheated on my fa…your husband, I should say?” There was incomprehension in Fleurette’s voice.
Gwyneira shook her head. “Not with my heart, if you see what I mean. Just to have a baby. I was always true to him after that.”
