Undaunted Love (PART TWO): Banished Saga, Book 3.5

by Ramona Flightner

  After a tense moment, Sophronia smiled with feral intent. “You know the influence I have attained through the years among those of good standing. As well as the knowledge of your … peccadilloes, shall we call them. It would be a shame for those to come to light.”

  Mr. Searle frowned again, his momentary joy doused by Sophronia’s threat. He met her eyes, subtly nodding his head and smiling wryly. “Fine. I will meet your terms. Not because I agree with you or believe in having any dealings with women. I will agree because I want to continue to work here in Boston, and my Bertha would loathe Tulsa.”

  “I’m glad we are in agreement. Good day to you, Mr. Searle.” Sophronia rose and marched from the room without a backward glance.

  CHAPTER 7

  “JEREMY?” SAVANNAH SAID as she opened the workshop door that squeaked as she pushed it open. She looked toward the workbench, but he was nowhere to be seen. She bit her lip, on the verge of leaving when she heard a gentle snore from the pallet near the stove.

  “Jeremy,” she whispered as she walked toward him. He appeared restless in his sleep, a frown on his face. She reached out to brush a lock of black hair off his forehead and gave a small yelp as he gripped her wrist.

  Savannah screeched as Jeremy opened wild, unfocused eyes. He reared up, grasping her shoulder with his other hand and tumbling her onto her back. He loomed over her, gasping. “You won’t succeed this time.”

  Savannah shivered at his low, menacing voice and wriggled in an attempt to break free from his punishing hold. “Jeremy, please.” Tears formed in her eyes, and, in an instant, she was released.

  He pushed away from her, a look of dawning horror on his face. He rose, moved toward the table and sank onto one of the benches. “Savannah. Holy God, Savannah.” As he lowered his face into his hands, his shoulders shook.

  “Jeremy? What happened?” She straightened her gray-blue jacket, setting the plumed hat that had tumbled off her head onto the table, and approached him, caressing his back.

  “I’d think you’d run screaming from this room, thinking good riddance to be done with the likes of me.”

  Savannah pulled out a chair and sat next to him. “Never. You told me that you had demons. I never realized they were as great as my own. Forgive me.”

  She leaned forward and clasped his face with her hands, forcing him to look up to meet her gaze. “Look at me, my love. I will not turn away from you because you are tormented by your past, Jeremy.”

  “I could’ve hurt you. If I hadn’t realized … I could have …”

  “You didn’t and you wouldn’t, Jeremy. I have faith in you and in our love for each other.”

  “Then you’re very foolish.”

  Savannah paled and dropped her hands from his face. She looked away, toward the workbench. “Are you saying you no longer envision a future with me, Jeremy?”

  He reached out reflexively, stilling her movement as she began to rise. “Savannah, I want to protect you from me. Nothing and no one will stop me from loving you.”

  A tremulous smile bloomed. “That is all I need to know.” She leaned toward him, and he pulled her into a tight embrace.

  “Are you all right, my love? Did I hurt you?” He stroked her hair, dislodging pins with each pass of his palm.

  “No, although I was frightened for a moment.”

  “I’m sorry if I reminded you of Jonas.”

  “You didn’t. Jonas knew what he was doing and relished harming me. I knew you had no idea what you were doing.” She paused for a moment, leaning away to meet his gaze. “I’m sorry you continue to be so tormented.” Savannah reached forward and traced her fingers down the side of his cheek, studying him for a long moment. “What are you afraid of?” She rubbed her thumb over his furrowed eyebrow.

  Jeremy closed his eyes before meeting her patient gaze. “My greatest fear is that you will decide you do not want this life with me. That my dream for a future with you will be as elusive as the morning mist on the Charles River.”

  Savannah beamed at him. “That is one fear you need to banish, Jeremy.” She stroked her fingers through his beard as she met his now-exultant gaze.

  He grinned before leaning forward for a quick kiss. He backed away almost as soon as his lips touched hers. “Forgive me again.”

  “Why? I’ve been waiting for you to kiss me. I’ve dreamed of your kisses, of your touch, every day I was away from you.”

  Jeremy exhaled a rueful laugh. “I’ve promised myself I won’t touch you. Not until you’re certain what you want.” He rose and walked toward the workbench.

  Savannah watched his movements for a moment before she stood. He spun to track her as she walked toward the door. “Savannah, please don’t go.”

  She glanced at him with a saucy look over her shoulder as she locked the warehouse door. “You seem to believe you have the right to make all the decisions between us, Jeremy.”

  “I don’t want you to regret, ever, anything that happens between us. To wish things had been different.”

  “Do you really think I’m so fickle?” She watched him with curious eyes.

  “No. I just can’t understand why a woman as fine as you is standing in front of me.”

  Savannah beamed at him. She reached up and unpinned her hair, allowing her thick strawberry-blond curls to cascade over her shoulders.

  Jeremy reached out as they fell to her waist, running the ends that curled into ringlets through his fingers. At his abrupt movement Savannah flinched. “I’ll not harm you, Savannah. At least not in that way. I’m sure I’ll do something at some time that disappoints or hurts you. But I promise you, I’ll never raise a hand to you.” He watched her with solemn eyes as he lifted steady hands to trace her long hair from the crown of her head to her waist.

  “I know. It’s instinct.”

  “It’s fine, love. He’ll never come between us.” He leaned forward and kissed her. “I’ve missed you more than I can say. Let me love you, Savannah.” He kissed her neck and brushed a kiss along her collarbone as he unbuttoned her dress.

  “Yes,” Savannah murmured, leaning away to gift him with a smile. “As long as I can love you too.”

  His chuckle resonated through her as he kissed his way down her cloth-covered back, unfastening her corset. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

  ***

  SAVANNAH LAY SPRAWLED on Jeremy’s chest, her head tucked under his neck, half awake as she traced circles on one of his arms. Jeremy kissed her head gently and caressed her back, the soft strokes of his hand provoking a shiver of pleasure from Savannah. He paused after a moment and moved to scoot out from under her. Savannah gave a gentle moan but rose up slightly so he could move with more freedom and then laid back down on her belly. Jeremy moved to her side and brushed aside her hair to better trace and to massage her back.

  At Jeremy’s hiss of an indrawn breath, Savannah stiffened. She moved to rise, but his firm hands held her in place. “Let me look, love,” Jeremy coaxed. He removed his hands, and Savannah settled, although her body shook with nervous energy.

  He traced a small indentation at the base of her right shoulder blade. “How did this happen?” Jeremy asked.

  “A buckle,” Savannah rasped. “I didn’t move fast enough, and he hit me with the full force of it.” She flinched and then relaxed as he kissed it.

  “And this one?” Jeremy asked. He stroked a ragged white line along her left hip.

  “A bottle broke,” Savannah whispered. “It was one of the few times a doctor had to be called to see me. Shards of glass were stuck inside, and it had to be sewn.”

  “The bastard hit you with a bottle?” Jeremy asked.

  Savannah turned onto her back and met his irate eyes. “He thought it kept me more docile, because I never knew what could be used against me.”

  “Why would you ever trust me? Any man?” He brushed the hair away from her brow.

  “Because I saw how you treated Cameron,” Savannah whispered. “I was at my parents’ h
ouse in the spring of 1901, before Clarissa traveled west to reunite with Gabriel, and he was there, taunting Clarissa. I almost came in, but then you … you forced him from the room.” She blinked away tears. “I’d been married to Jonas for nine months at that point, and I’d lost my belief that a man would come to a woman’s aid. And then you helped my cousin. I had to go to my old room and cry for a few minutes because I knew there was no one who could protect me from the man I’d married.”

  “All you had to do was ask,” Jeremy vowed. “Your brother and father would have helped you in an instant. As would have Richard and I.”

  “I didn’t know how,” Savannah said. “The most powerful thing he took away was my confidence. I lost the belief that I mattered. That anyone truly believed I mattered enough to be concerned about me.”

  “Which you have regained. And you now know just how much you matter. To your father, your brother. To me,” Jeremy said. He kissed her gently. “I can’t promise I won’t bring you pain. But I will promise never to raise anything against you.”

  “I know. I trust you.” She smiled fully. She reached up to run her fingers through his hair.

  “I know this is a bit late to voice this concern,” Jeremy said with rueful humor.

  “Yes?”

  “Do you think Jonas could have lied to you?”

  “About many things, yes.”

  “Do you think he could have tried to convince you that you could never have children in an attempt to bind you further to him?” He watched her with cautious, hopeful eyes.

  “Jeremy, I don’t know. He might have.”

  “Shh … please, Savannah, don’t fret. While you were away from me, I thought about our conversations. I had conversations with you. Although you didn’t want contact with me, you were never far from my thoughts.”

  “Nor you from mine,” she said as she arched up to kiss him.

  “And it struck me that, if he lied about the baby’s death, he could just as easily have lied about you never having more children. It’s something he would have done because he relished provoking as much pain as possible.”

  “You can’t have this false hope that I’ll become pregnant,” Savannah whispered. “I can’t survive each month if you become more and more upset because I remain just me.”

  He chuffed out a laugh. “I’ll never be upset that you remain just you, my sweet Savannah. I think you should see a doctor, one not bought off by Jonas, to confirm or contradict what you were told.”

  “And if he says I can have a baby?”

  “Then we need to be more careful, unless we want a little bundle sooner rather than later,” Jeremy teased. He held a finger to her lips. “And if he says the other doctor was correct, it will never alter my love for you. I couldn’t love you more than I do.”

  “A part of me likes living with that hope, Jeremy. The thought of having it taken away is difficult.”

  “False hope can leech away happiness, my love, and prevent you from enjoying what you have.” He raised her hand and kissed her palm. “I know if the doctors say there is a chance we can have a child, we will live with that hope. More than anything, I want the reality of a future with you.” He watched Savannah with a guarded, hopeful expression.

  She raised her hand, cupping the side of his face. “As do I, Jeremy. I want nothing more. Please be patient with me. I must decide if I can endure the infamy of living with you outside of marriage first.” She smiled ruefully. “If it is determined Jonas lied, then the decision might be made for me. For now, I need time to consider what you are asking.”

  “I’ll be as patient as you want, my darling. As long as you’re a part of my life”—he kissed her shoulder—“I will never ask for more than you are willing to give.”

  CHAPTER 8

  TWO WEEKS AFTER DA’S FUNERAL, Sophie and I decided to visit the Museum of Fine Arts. As I descended from her carriage, I marveled anew at the splendor of Trinity Church to my right and the grandeur of the Boston Public Library to my left. Trinity Church stood with its grand French Romanesque design, its Dedham granite a perfect counterpoint to its brownstone trimmings. The public library’s red tiled roof was enhanced by the green copper detailing clinging to the roof, like decorative icing on the edge of a cake, while the white brick gleamed in the sunlight. The museum’s Gothic Revival red brick exterior, with numerous arches highlighted in white granite, complemented the majestic Trinity Church and the Boston Public Library.

  “What has you sighing, my girl?” Sophie asked as she alit.

  “I was studying the library, wishing Missoula had such a place. There is a library of sorts, of course.” I shared an amused glance with Sophie. “Even when we have a formal library, it will never rival the Boston Public Library.”

  “How could it? Boston is one of the most learned cities in the nation, if not the world. Of course we would have a renowned library. I’d be thankful you have any sort of library in that backwater you call home.”

  “Sophie, it’s a wonderful little town. I think you’d like Missoula.”

  “I think the two important words there are little and town,” she said with a harrumph. I noted she leaned more heavily on her walking stick, although she still wielded it to push those out of her way who she viewed as an impediment to her forward momentum.

  “I believe you are looking forward to seeing the exhibit,” Sophie said as we moved into the darkened interior.

  “Yes,” I said. “It’s been some time since I’ve been to an art exhibit.”

  “Well, they’ve some beautiful new pieces recently acquired from Europe. I think you’ll enjoy them. And, while you’re here, we should go to the symphony. I doubt you’re able to hear such music in Montana.”

  “There’s an opera house in Missoula, Sophie.”

  “And is there opera music?” Sophie asked with a raised eyebrow.

  I shook my head and giggled. “No, the last performance Gabriel and I saw was a play. Although the Chicago Symphony performed at our opera house last winter.”

  “My point exactly, my girl. You are in sore need of culture. One decent performance in nearly two years does not render a place hospitable.” We walked side by side into one of the galleries. “This exhibit opened only a few weeks ago.”

  I nodded as I became entranced by the artwork. I tried to imagine how I would describe each piece of work to Gabriel, before giving up and becoming lost in my enjoyment of the beautiful paintings. “Sophie,” I said as I turned to find her. I blanched as I stood face-to-face with my grandmother.

  “Clarissa,” she said as she leaned heavily to one side on a cane. “I’m disappointed to see you have returned to us.”

  “Grandmama,” I said. “Grandpapa.” I nodded at my grandfather standing behind her like a silent sentinel.

  “I had hoped, after your unfortunate defection to that worthless worker, that you would remain there. I assume you returned to Boston for your father’s funeral. Such a scandal that one such as he was ever aligned with our family. It’s regrettable you have yet to see sense and have remained here in Boston.” My grandmother looked me up and down, sniffing with disdain at my simple clothes. “It appears the manners of the West are more to your liking.”

  “You are correct in that I returned to honor my father. I remain to spend time with friends and family.” I lifted my chin in defiance of her words, my eyes flashing with ire.

  “Honor him? You don’t know the meaning of the word. Had you had any regard for your father, you never would have acted as you did last year. Not only have you brought your father’s house under a cloud of ill repute, one that your sister will never recover from, you’ve forced another estimable family to suffer the loss of their son.”

  “I’ve done no such thing,” I said. “Cameron’s death was not at my hand.”

  “He would never have been in that godforsaken place had you not traveled there for your illicit liaison with your disgraced laborer. You enticed a well-intentioned, suitable gentleman to travel halfway
across a continent and then proceeded to jilt him. Your shame knows no bounds.”

  “And yours knows no decency. You, who should have loved and protected me, were only ever worried about your standing in society. You, who should have cared more for my happiness than for any perceived alliance, wanted me to further enhance your social status. I refuse to accept any blame for believing I deserved more than sacrificing my happiness at the altar of your ambition.”

  My grandmother turned a bright red and began to shake. I sensed Sophie standing near me and turned toward her. “Imagine my surprise to find my grandparents also visiting the museum today.”

  “How … fortunate,” Sophie murmured. “I continue to find myself disappointed in the prognosticative abilities of physicians. Although, if you see your granddaughter with any frequency, she may aid in proving them correct.”

  “I am not going to die any time soon, you insolent woman,” Grandmama hissed.

  “Well, as we are to be denied such an event, Clarissa and I must continue our tour of the museum. If you will excuse us?”

  Sophie and I strolled away at a leisurely pace, and I knew the nonchalant air was intended to irritate my grandparents further. “Sophie, what did you mean about physicians and prognosis?”

  “Your grandmother had an apoplexy earlier this year. The physician who attended her assured me that we were soon to be relieved of her presence among us. However, as you can see, that has not been the case.”

  “She looks quite strong.”

  “If you ignore her leaning heavily on one side of her cane and talking mainly from one side of her mouth.”

  “Her words are just as sharp,” I murmured.

  “Ah, you did well, my girl. They’ve never known what to do with you. It’s been a joy to watch you flummox them.”

  “Has Savannah seen them?”

  “No. I spared Savannah the necessity of listening to her grandmother’s vitriol. Suffering through a visit from her mother and your Mrs. Smythe was enough penance for anyone to bear.” We shared a sardonic smile.