by Tamara Gill
“What has happened?” demanded Ryan, looking from her to Isaiah, who stood next to her, his arm around his wife's shoulders.
“It be little Nathan, Japheth and Magda's new babe, suh,” said Isaiah, his own voice shaky. “He done gone to his reward, and him not two weeks old. It be a blow to us all, and 'specially the women. You know how they dotes on a new babe.”
Kathryn caught her breath. She could see Nathan's perfect little face, feel the tiny fingers curling around her own. Then she remembered Japheth's face as it had been the other day, so full of pride in his new son. She folded her lips and struggled against the tears prickling at her eyelids.
“I've just talked to Magda,” said Coffee quietly, her voice composed, though tears still trickled from the corners of her eyes. “I reminded her that this is a cross we women have to bear, and that there will be other babes, but it never seems to get easier.” She squeezed her eyes shut and turned her face against her husband's huge chest. His arms went around her comfortingly and they stood silent, drawing strength from each other.
“Isaiah and Coffee lost their only child to the yellow fever just three months ago,” Ryan explained to Kathryn in an undertone. “Sarah was only two years old—a beautiful little girl.”
Suddenly, intermingled with Kathryn's grief for little Nathan, came a surge of raw fear as she realized that she was now in a time when modern medicine was unknown, where disease and death were part of everyday life. Where any child she bore—perhaps even Ryan's child—might well die before its first birthday. Could anything be worth that?
But before panic could overcome her, Ryan was rallying Coffee and Isaiah to action, his words reminding her of her obligation to help these people. Wiping her eyes, she listened closely.
“We can't allow this to delay our plans, I'm afraid,” he was saying. “Coffee, the things you will need are in this package. Miss Prescott will assist you while I speak to Japheth and Magda. I'll be back in a few minutes to help you, Isaiah.”
He went out and Coffee drew herself up bravely. “Mr. James is right. We have work to do if we are to live to fulfill the Lord's purpose for us.” She knelt to untie the parcel Ryan had left. “This is lovely, miss. Are you sure you want me to have it?” She reverently held up the shimmering folds of the black-and-gray gown.
“I got it especially with you in mind, Coffee,” answered Kathryn, forcing a watery smile. “Those colors look awful on me, but they should suit you perfectly. Try it on.”
Coffee disappeared into a curtained recess at one end of the single room cabin and reappeared a few moments later wearing the dress. “It's the right length, thank heavens,” said Kathryn, surveying it critically, “but it hangs a little in the waist. Hold still a second.” With practiced fingers, she pinned the offending area and stood back again. “Yes, I think that's all it will need. Take it back off and I'll have it fitted in a moment.”
“Oh, miss, there's no need—” Coffee protested, but Kathryn cut her off.
“Nonsense. Why do you think I came along?” She felt a need to keep her hands busy, to keep visions of Nathan—and of little Sarah, whom she hadn't even known—at bay. Coffee seemed to understand, for she returned to the recess without a word and came out after a moment in her old homespun, handing Kathryn the new dress. Kathryn sat down on a low stool, pulling from her pocket the needle and thread she'd brought along, and set to work. By the time Ryan returned, she was nearly finished.
“My, you's quick with a needle, ma'am!” exclaimed Isaiah admiringly, looking to his wife for confirmation.
“You do have a gift, miss,” agreed Coffee with gentle certainty.
“How are we doing?” asked Ryan with forced briskness as he strode in. His manner was calm and businesslike, but his eyes were red and Kathryn felt another pang. He'll grow into a man you can be proud of, he'd said the day Nathan was born. Apparently he wasn't as hardened to such tragedy as she'd assumed.
“Coffee, try this on again,” she said quickly, knotting off the last thread. “It should just about do now.”
As Coffee retired again with the dress, Ryan brought out a pair of shears and a razor. “Now for you, Isaiah. You've always been known for that bushy mane of yours, so I can think of no better way to disguise you than to shave it off.
Isaiah nodded, resigned, and sat on a low stool so that Ryan could do the deed. Coffee, emerging a few minutes later in the perfectly fitted dress, stifled a gasp at the sight of her husband's hair littering the floor.
“It . . . does make a change, doesn't it?” she managed to say.
“More than I'd have expected,” Kathryn agreed. “Let's have a look at you. Yes, I think that will do fine. I'm awfully glad I didn't have to hem it—that would have taken forever by hand.” Coffee looked at her curiously, and Kathryn realized that she'd misspoken again. These people would know of no alternative to hand sewing.
Coffee's attention was back on her husband, where Ryan was now plying the razor, so Kathryn dared to hope the remark would be quickly forgotten.
“Let's try the wig, Coffee.” Kathryn held it up. “Sit here and I'll fit it on you.” She did so expertly, her theatrical experience again standing her in good stead, and in moments Coffee looked like a different woman—a white woman. There was no mirror in the cabin, but Ryan and Isaiah both exclaimed at the change, agreeing that it would do the trick.
A few minutes later, Ryan toweled off Isaiah's shiny dome. “There! Your own mother wouldn't know you now, I daresay.”
Isaiah fingered his head and face in disbelief while Coffee simply stood and stared. Finally, she said, “He's right, Isaiah. I could have passed you in the street myself, I believe.”
At that moment, another man burst into the room, panting and sweating. “Masah! Masah! Praise the Lord, Mama Ruth was right. She said as how I'd be like to find ye here!”
“What is it, Jeb?” Ryan asked the young slave.
“Why, they's two of the Warden's men up to the big house, askin' for ye! Mama Ruth said as she thought you was in town, but made a big show o' sendin' me round the fields to look for ye. She done told me quiet like that I'd mos' prob'ly find you here, so I come here fust to ask what I should do.”
“Thank you, Jeb, you did right,” Ryan assured him. “Can Mama Ruth keep those two in the house for a little while?”
“Yes, suh, Masah! She just took two o' her bodacious chicken pies out de oven, an' she said she was goin' to serve it up to 'em. Ain't no one gone walk away from Mama Ruth's chicken pies!”
“You're right there,” agreed Ryan. “All right, Jeb, you take your time riding over the fields, and after a while you mosey on back to the house and say you couldn't find me. Daniel,” he turned to the groom, who had come up behind. “Hurry up to the stables, saddle the horses and bring them back here. But be careful to stay out of sight of the house, especially the dining room windows.” The groom nodded and followed Jeb out.
“Are all of your things packed up?” Ryan asked Isaiah. “It looks as though we'll have to leave a bit ahead of schedule.”
“I packed everything last night,” said Coffee. “We can be off at any time.”
Everyone sprang into action. Ryan went out to the pump and filled several skins with water, while Kathryn wrapped up the food that Coffee had already set out on the table for their journey. By the time Daniel returned with the horses ten minutes later, all was ready. Coffee brought out the bundles she had packed and Isaiah stowed them in the saddlebags of the larger horse.
“Daniel, I want you to circle around and come to the house from the main road. Tell Mama Ruth that I'm in town conducting business and mean to stay there until suppertime. If the Warden's men want to know exactly where I am, tell them you think I was going to Mr. Haney's office. He's out of town, and I left a message there earlier, so that should ring true. I expect I'll speak to them myself when I return for supper tonight, but it won't hurt to have them chasing around for the next few hours.”
Daniel nodded and departed again.
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Ryan looked at Kathryn. “I was going to have you wait here while I set Isaiah and Coffee on their road, but now you'd better come along in case those two decide to search for themselves. They may want something entirely unconnected with this business, but we cannot be certain.”
Kathryn merely nodded, seeing no point in telling him that she wouldn't have remained behind in any case. She went outside to the horses, and the others followed suit.
“We'll take the path through the woods,” said Ryan when they were away from the cabins, leading them into the trees that lined these far fields. “I scouted out the land when I first bought this place against just such an eventuality as this.”
In moments they were all concealed from view, moving carefully along a narrow track that wound between towering pines.
“This path goes on for seven or eight miles and then joins the small south road. That will be the safest route for you to take to Savannah,” he said to Isaiah over his shoulder as he guided his horse through the thick undergrowth.
Kathryn was impressed by Ryan's ability to stay on the track. Her eyes could detect no path at all ahead of him, but he unerringly found the way, leading them skillfully and quickly through the dense, almost tropical, growth.
“Mr. James is probably the best backwoodsman in South Carolina,” Coffee remarked reassuringly to her at one point. “Don't you worry for a minute that he'll lose his way.”
Sure enough, as the sun was reaching its zenith, the path gave onto a much larger dirt track. “You know your way from here, don't you, Isaiah?” asked Ryan. The big man nodded. “You two had best go on, then. If any questions are asked here, you can trust me to lead them a merry chase.”
The two men clasped hands warmly, there being no words for such a parting, and Isaiah and Coffee turned their horses' heads south.
“I pray they make it,” murmured Kathryn, as they disappeared around a bend.
Ryan turned his horse. “They have an excellent chance. But we must hurry if we're not to arouse suspicion.” She followed him willingly.
After half an hour, he pulled up in a tiny clearing ringed by azaleas in full bloom with a small stream running through it. “I brought a sandwich along,” he said, dismounting. “You are welcome to share it.”
He helped her down, then divided the package evenly. It took them only a few minutes to finish eating, drinking and washing dusty hands at the stream. As they stood to go, having completed their brief meal in silence, Ryan turned abruptly.
“You realize that we are both deeply implicated in this business now, apart from what I may face on our return. Are you regretting your promise yet?” He regarded Kathryn searchingly.
“Of course not. I only wish I could have done more to make up for the damage I've caused.” She meant it. Despite the fact that women were often treated like children in this time, Kathryn felt that here, working for something that mattered, she had finally grown up. Ryan seemed to sense her sincerity.
“I misjudged you, Catherine,” he said gently. “I'm sorry.”
Kathryn was suddenly, acutely aware of how alone they were, of how private a place this was. Her heart began to beat faster. Ryan had attracted her from the moment they met and she realized, more strongly than ever, that she wanted him, wanted to feel his warmth pressed against her. No man had ever stirred her senses the way this man did.
Why not now? What if she were snatched back to her own time tomorrow, before she ever saw him again? What if—she swallowed—what if he were arrested, even hanged, for what he did in Charleston? She would regret it for the rest of her life if she let this golden opportunity escape.
“Ryan . . .” she began huskily.
Again he seemed attuned to her thoughts. Before she could say another word, he reached out to her almost questioningly, one hand sliding around the back of her neck, under her thick, dark hair, the other barely touching her fingers, which had risen of their own accord to meet his. Their hands met and clasped, and he drew her gently to him for a deep, searching kiss.
She responded hungrily, her hands caressing his back, his shoulders. His embrace tightened and she could sense his mounting passion, a hunger matching her own. Kathryn began to draw him down gently to the thick carpet of pine needles beneath them, still spread with the cloth they had picnicked on, but, frustratingly, he stopped her.
“What are you doing?” he demanded in obvious amazement, though his voice was as husky as hers.
She gazed up at him, her eyes smoky with desire. She must have one wonderful experience to remember him by, whatever the risk. “I'm not afraid,” she said softly. “Are you?”
He caught his breath and smiled, a serious smile, his eyes probing her very soul. “If this is what you want, Catherine, I won't deny you. But you must be very sure.”
Kathryn felt with sudden, searing certainty that she could do no better than to commit herself, her future, to this man's keeping. “I'm sure,” she whispered. Determinedly, she began to unbutton his coat, then his shirt. When she had trouble with his cravat, he quickly untied it himself and turned his attention to her clothing.
“We haven't the time I'd prefer to take,” he said, deftly undoing the row of tiny buttons down her back and unlacing her corset. “I will try to be gentle.”
Kathryn smiled. She was every bit as eager as he. As the last of her garments fell in a heap at her feet, she turned to face him. He was magnificent! Kathryn devoured him with her eyes. His hard, muscled frame had only been hinted at before, under the loose shirts and tight breeches he wore, but now he was revealed in all his glory—as she was in hers.
Remembering that time was short, she took a step forward and suddenly found herself in Ryan's arms. This time he did not resist when she drew him down to the forest floor. Urged on by a potent mix of desire and danger, Kathryn caressed him, deliberately rousing him to a fevered pitch. Still, Ryan took the time to pleasure her with his hands, his mouth, until she was moist and ready. She barely noticed the tiny twinge of pain when he finally entered her, so exquisite was the pleasure of it. Together they climbed to the peak, exploding only a few moments later with a release that went beyond anything Kathryn had ever experienced.
Their passion spent, they lay entwined, Kathryn mesmerized by Ryan's heartbeat. Gradually, reluctantly, she again became aware of the passage of time. Now, even more than before, she wanted to be sure of Ryan's safety.
Reluctantly, she murmured, “It must be nearly two. Shouldn't we get back?” She knew that she would forever associate the scent of sun-warmed pine needles with Ryan, with love.
Ryan nodded, caressing her as she disengaged herself from his arms. Silently, he helped her into her clothes, fastening the buttons she could not reach. By the time Kathryn had laced up her shoes, he had dressed himself and stood regarding her with an expression she could not read.
Realization slowly penetrated the sensuous languor that still enveloped her. She had not given the slightest thought to playing Catherine's part during their lovemaking. She had been wholly herself—perhaps more so than she'd ever been in her life. For the first time, she really knew who she was.
But Ryan didn't know. She could see the doubt, the question in his eyes. Could she tell him? Did she dare? It seemed wrong to hold any part of herself back from him now. But he spoke first.
“Catherine, we have to talk. Now.”
***
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Kathryn tried to replace the pins in her hair, but her fingers wouldn't cooperate. Her sense of inner peace had shattered at his words. How much should she tell him? she wondered frantically. Was he ready for the whole truth? Was she?
Ryan watched as she fumbled with her hair, retrieving pins when she dropped them and finally pinning up the rich dark mass himself.
“You know we need to talk, Catherine,” he repeated. “It may as well be now as later.”
She let out her breath, only then aware that she had been holding it. “You're right. I just don't know where to start.”<
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“Then I will. Catherine, I've compromised you—” he stopped, frowning. She knew he was thinking that she hadn't behaved like a virgin at all—nor had she. Thank God the physical proof had been there, at least.
He continued more forcefully, “I've compromised you irrevocably now, even if our time alone remains a secret. Please tell me you no longer object to becoming my wife.”
Kathryn's eyes widened. He wasn't going to demand an explanation? She wasn't sure whether she should be relieved or insulted. Likely he took credit for her expertise himself—just like a man! But it hardly mattered right now. He was right. She had been compromised—or at least Catherine's body had—and she would have to abide by the standards of this culture. Still . . .
“I'll marry you, Ryan,” she said, “but only if it's what you really want. Is it?” The answer mattered much more than she had expected it to.
“Catherine,” he said softly, holding out his hands to her. She came willingly but he held her at arm's length, looking deep into her eyes, this time letting her read his feelings instead of striving to read hers. What she saw there made her gasp. “I love you, Catherine,” he said, confirming her wonderful discovery. “I don't know how it happened, or when it happened. It wasn't true when I first proposed, as I think you knew. My reasons were completely different then. But now I love you and I want you to be my wife more than I've ever wanted anything. Will you?”
His voice was infinitely tender, and Kathryn thought her heart would burst from the emotions swelling it. There were tears in her eyes when she answered.
“Yes, Ryan, I will. I love you, too, in a way I never knew it was possible to love. I'll marry you.” She spoke it as a vow, and he seemed to accept it as such. He drew her to him and kissed her, not passionately but solemnly, to acknowledge the promise.
