Too Far to Whisper

by Arianna Eastland

  Rosalind stood there, as if frozen to the spot. She felt a sudden, strong urge to linger in the company of this magnificent-looking man. She wanted to talk to him, to find out more about him and his people…about being the son of a sachem. She knew it was futile to imagine a conversation of any sort with Shadow, for he did not speak, nevertheless, she could not suppress the desire. And although a part of her feared him, she, to her bewilderment, felt more inclined to remain than to walk away.

  Inhaling deeply, Rosalind grasped the handle of the bucket and lifted it, then straightened and said, “I shall take this over to Silver Cloud now. If you crave more water, I shall leave the bucket beneath that oak over yonder, after Silver Cloud has had his fill.” She quickly strode away.

  In the distance, Nathaniel Corwin stood leaning against a pine tree, his watchful gaze trained on Rosalind as she moved toward Silver Cloud. When Shadow spied the captain and the object of his attention, his eyes narrowed and his fingernails dug into the wooden handle of his spade. From the first moment the Indian had observed Nathaniel and Rosalind together, it had been disturbingly obvious to him that the captain desired the blond beauty. What troubled Shadow was he knew that Rosalind, in her innocence, had not even the slightest notion of the captain’s intentions.

  Shadow knew first-hand that the rumors about Nathaniel’s insatiable appetite for women were true. The Indian vividly recalled the scene he had witnessed the summer before at the pond that lay on the Corwins’ property. Nathaniel and a buxom, red-haired woman had first enjoyed a swim together, then emerged from the water, their naked bodies glistening in the sunlight, and had passionately fondled and caressed each other, using their mouths and hands in ways that Shadow at first had found shocking…then enticing. Unable to tear his gaze from the erotic scene, he had secretly observed the pair’s lusty mating and the woman’s cries of obvious pleasure. On that day, Captain Corwin unwittingly had taught him how to please a woman in ways he never had imagined possible.

  Shadow directed his thoughts back to the present and to Rosalind, who cheerfully was serving water to Silver Cloud. For a brief moment he envisioned her lying naked beneath Nathaniel as he pounded into her in the same manner in which he had done to the red-haired woman. Unable to suppress the anger that rose in his throat, Shadow closed his eyes against the disturbing thought. He would do everything within his power, he vowed, to keep the captain and Rosalind apart.

  Shadow set down his spade and lifted a hoe that was lying nearby. He then began to assault the earth with it, sending large clumps of dirt flying in every direction. Both Rosalind and Silver Cloud turned to look at him.

  “He seems angry,” Silver Cloud said, rubbing a handful of water on the back of his neck. “Did you say or do something to offend him?”

  “I said nothing, I assure you,” Rosalind answered.

  “Something certainly has turned his mood foul,” Silver Cloud said. “But then, he has always been moody, that one – silent and serious, always keeping to himself.”

  “Has he ever spoken to you?”

  Silver Cloud shook his head. “Not a word. But I know he understands the English tongue, so mind what you say around him.” He spared her a slight smile.

  “Do not worry,” Rosalind assured him, lifting the bucket. “’Tis my nature to speak kindly to people.”

  “Even to us savages?” Silver Cloud asked.

  Rosalind smiled at him. “Even to you savages!”

  On her way back to the house, Rosalind caught a glimpse of a man entering the stables. She assumed he must be Jonathan, the subject of Abigail’s tale of drunken woe last eve. Although she feared Abigail might already be growing impatient for her return, Rosalind allowed her curiosity to lead her to the stables. Inside, she found a man grooming a chestnut mare.

  He turned to look at her when she entered.

  “I am Rosalind Chandler, Mrs. Corwin’s new companion,” she introduced herself, smiling. “May I assume you are Jonathan?”

  “Aye, I am he,” he said, returning her smile. “Pleased to meet you, Mistress Chandler.”

  His steel-gray gaze boldly swept over the length of her. He was short in stature with greasy black hair, a pitted complexion and rotted teeth. His round stomach swelled above the waist of his breeches, giving him an apple-like appearance.

  “You live in the main house?” he asked.

  Rosalind nodded. “I have been here but one day, but I have been made to feel as if I am one of the family. I feel fortunate to be in the Corwins’ employ. I hear tell that many young women would love to be in my position.”

  “Indeed they would,” he said, smirking. “For the sole purpose of laying claim to one of the Corwin boys. Pray tell, Miss, is that why you have come to work here?”

  Rosalind’s chin rose slightly. “I can assure you, sir, I have no desire whatsoever to wed a ‘Corwin boy.’ My only purpose for being here is to aid their mother.”

  Jonathan’s smug grin grew broader. “Oh, we shall see. If I were a betting man, I would wager a goodly sum on your eager acceptance of a marriage proposal from either one of the lads if you were ever presented with the opportunity.”

  “Perhaps you should place that bet, sir,” Rosalind said. “For it shall give me great pleasure to see you lose.” She turned and stormed out of the stable.

  “Spirited little thing!” Jonathan said aloud, his hand rubbing his stubbled chin as he watched Rosalind hasten toward the house. “I like that in a woman.”

  * * * * *

  Ben and Faith were invited to dine at the Corwins’ on a Friday evening two weeks later. Rosalind’s eagerness to once again see her brother and his wife made the day crawl by, each minute seeming lengthier than an hour.

  Determined to impress the guests, Grace and Marian spent countless hours cooking what appeared to be a kingly feast. The aroma of roasted goose, baked beans and gingerbread wafted through the house, whetting the appetite of anyone within sniffing distance. Rosalind, however, was too excited about her brother’s impending visit to think about food. It seemed like a lifetime since she last had seen him.

  Shortly before the guest’s anticipated arrival, Grace, her hair and face damp with perspiration from long hours of cooking, pointed to a large wooden platter of boiled meats, bread and cheese, and asked Rosalind if she would mind taking it out to the men in the shed.

  “Grab a pitcher of cider for them, too,” Grace added, wiping her brow with a corner of her apron. “I would tend to the errand myself, but Marian and I still have to polish the silver ere the guests arrive. Tonight is very special for another reason…Master Matthew is returning home!”

  The woman’s announcement surprised Rosalind. No previous mention of Matthew Corwin’s return had been made – not even by Abigail, who usually shared every tidbit of news with her.

  The workers’ shed was larger and more comfortable looking than Rosalind had anticipated. Three pallets, covered with straw, lined the floor. In the center of the room stood a thick oak table surround by benches. And in the back corner, a hearth.

  Smiling at the men, Rosalind set the platter of food and the pitcher on the table, but neither Shadow, Silver Cloud nor Jonathan made any move to reach for it. They stood as stiffly as soldiers at attention and stared at her.

  Rosalind could not resist indulging in a lingering look at Shadow. He looked freshly scrubbed, a loose white shirt complementing his dark good looks. His thick hair hung long and straight past his shoulders, and to Rosalind’s surprise, she found herself wondering what it would feel like to run her fingers through it. She might have stared at him all eve, had Silver Cloud’s voice not broken the spell.

  “Thank you, Miss,” he said. “You caught us by surprise, as Grace always delivers our meals.”

  “’Tis a welcome change,” Jonathan added, winking at Rosalind. The action earned him a disapproving glance from Shadow. Rosalind could not help but notice Jonathan’s stained clothing and the perspiration-streaked dirt on his face and neck. She began to susp
ect his past history as the town drunkard was not the only reason why women were not eager to be made his wife.

  “Well, I shall leave you men to your meal,” Rosalind announced, feeling suddenly awkward in the men’s company. For one thing, Jonathan was looking at her in a way that made her feel as if she were standing naked before him. “Matthew is due to arrive home at any moment.”

  “Oh, you will like Matthew,” Jonathan said, his decayed smile widening. He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Are you still so certain I shall lose that wager we discussed?”

  “More so than ever,” she said evenly. She turned to look at the two Indians. “Enjoy your supper, men.” Forcing a tight smile, she took her leave.

  * * * * *

  Matthew’s arrival was met with a round of welcoming handshakes and embraces.

  “Rosalind!” Nathaniel called to her as he stood with his arm draped around his brother’s shoulders. “Allow me to present my brother Matthew, the scholar.”

  “He exaggerates,” Matthew said, laughing. He clasped Rosalind’s hand. “I am pleased to meet you. Nathaniel tells me you already have done wonders for our mother.”

  “I have done little,” Rosalind said. She removed her hand from Matthew’s. “Your mother has had much to do with her own progress.”

  “You are too modest, Rosalind,” Nathaniel said. “Ere your arrival, Mother seemed content to lie back and await her death. Now, she seems eager to join the living once again.”

  Rosalind did not respond. Abigail did appear to be much happier of late. Her appetite had improved and she no longer balked at taking her medicine. Perhaps, Rosalind was forced to admit, she indeed had been a positive influence on the woman in some way.

  “Speaking of Mother,” Matthew said, “I am eager to see her. If you good people will excuse me, I shall hasten up to her chamber.”

  As Rosalind watched Matthew disappear up the stairs, she concluded that Jonathan had been correct. Matthew indeed was a likable sort. His manner seemed more genuine and less polished than Nathaniel’s – his smile warmer. Matthew was not as tall as his brother, but more muscular and broad-shouldered, with wide-set blue eyes and slightly curly dark hair. He exuded warmth, while Nathaniel gave the impression of being less approachable…and more conceited.

  Ten minutes later, Ben and Faith arrived. The pair barely had set foot inside when Rosalind rushed to embrace her brother.

  “I have missed you so!” she cried, before turning toward Faith. “And Faith, you look wonderful!”

  Rosalind spoke the truth. There was no mistaking the sparkle in Faith’s eyes or the flush in her cheeks as she clung to her husband’s arm. Gone were all traces of the wedding-night problem Ben so awkwardly had attempted to describe to her on the morning after his wedding. Rosalind felt a great sense of relief that her brother and his wife appeared to be so genuinely happy.

  The table in the sitting room was set with a lace table covering and pewter chargers and pitchers. A vase of flowers decorated the center of the table. The group was just about to be seated when Matthew came downstairs and whispered to Rosalind that his mother craved a word with her posthaste. Concerned, Rosalind excused herself and hurried to Abigail’s chamber.

  “Is something amiss, Abigail?” she asked upon entering the room. She instantly noticed that the woman was seated on the edge of the bed rather than lying back against her usual stack of pillows.

  “Aye, there is,” she responded, but her eyes twinkled with excitement. “I need you to assist me with dressing. I cannot very well join my husband and sons for supper, nor properly meet your brother and his wife, while I am wearing my nightdress!”

  Rosalind could not contain her surprise. “Are you certain you feel up to this?”

  “I am determined to try,” Abigail said. “Quickly, child, fetch me my green dress. I do not wish to keep our guests waiting.”

  Hesitating for only a few seconds, Rosalind complied.

  Several minutes later, Rosalind and Abigail – the frail woman clutching her young companion’s arm for support – descended the stairs. A hush fell over the room as all heads turned toward the pair.

  Nathaniel and Matthew leapt to their feet and rushed to assist Rosalind. Each son grasped one of Abigail’s elbows, then carefully guided her to the table. When Abigail finally was seated at her husband’s side, Elias leaned over and embraced her. “Beloved wife, I am pleased beyond words that you have decided to honor us with your presence this eve,” he said. He turned to face Rosalind, who was standing near the table. “I cannot thank you enough, Mistress Chandler.”

  Rosalind wanted to tell him that Abigail was still too weak, too ill, to be up and about, and that if it had been up to her, the woman would have remained in bed where she belonged. Her only response, however, was to smile and nod.

  Rosalind could not remember when she had enjoyed a meal more. Matthew was a gifted conversationalist with a knack for making people laugh, especially when he described his days at college. Within minutes, he encouraged even the most tight-lipped members of the group to contribute their own stories to the light-hearted discussion. And Ben, true to form, delighted everyone with several of his more amusing tales, including one about his first attempt to milk a cow. His pleasure was obvious as his audience hung on to his every word.

  The food also was delicious, Rosalind thought, as she accepted Grace’s offer of another piece of gingerbread. She considered the only drawback of the otherwise perfect evening to be Nathaniel’s relentless perusal of her. He was seated directly facing her. Whenever she smiled, she felt his gaze burning into her lips. And if she happened to look in his direction, his eyes instantly locked with hers. At times, Rosalind feared her food would stick in her throat, Nathaniel’s gaze was so intense.

  Immediately following the meal, Abigail’s growing weariness became apparent. Several times, the woman’s head slumped forward as she fought off sleep, only to snap back up when loud conversation or laughter startled her. Finally, Elias offered to escort her back to her chamber.

  “Rosalind deserves to relax tonight and spend time with her brother and his lovely wife,” Elias said. He stood and then bent to scoop up his sleeping wife into his arms. “I shall tend to Abigail’s needs.”

  “But ‘tis my duty,” Rosalind protested, rising from her bench.

  “Not tonight.” Elias’s tone was firm. Carrying Abigail, he moved toward the stairs. “Now be seated and enjoy the company of your guests.”

  Grateful for the opportunity to spend more time with Ben and Faith, Rosalind obeyed.

  An hour later, Ben spoke the words Rosalind had been dreading since his arrival.

  “This has been a most enjoyable evening,” he said. “But the hour grows late, so Faith and I must be on our way.” He rose and took his wife’s elbow. “We are extremely grateful for your hospitality.”

  Rosalind’s heart sank. Although the Corwins treated her like a member of their family, they were not her family. Seeing Ben again had served only to resurrect her desire to see her mother and sisters.

  Excusing herself to the Corwin brothers, Rosalind escorted Ben and Faith outside. The three of them stood at the head of the path, each of them reluctant to bid farewell.

  “Do not look so sad,” Ben told his sister, giving her hand a squeeze. “I promise I shall return soon. And perhaps next time, I shall bring Mother, Nellie and Elizabeth.”

  “That would be wonderful,” Rosalind said. “I cannot tell you how much I miss them.”

  “Not half as much as they miss you,” he said, shaking his head. “Mark my words, bright and early on the morrow, Mother will be knocking at my door, impatient to hear how you are faring. I shall have to relate every detail of this evening’s events.”

  “Give her my love,” Rosalind said as she leaned to embrace her brother.

  She stood and watched Ben and Faith as they walked away, even though the night’s darkness, save for the light of the moon, prevented her from seeing them clearly. She lingered outside, not w
ishing to return to the house. The evening, she decided, had ended much too soon.

  “You look lovely in the moonlight.” Nathaniel’s voice came from behind her.

  Rosalind turned to find the captain casually leaning against a nearby tree.

  “Are you always in the habit of sneaking up on people?” she asked him. “How long have you been standing there?”

  “Not nearly long enough,” he responded with a lazy smile. “I could gaze at you for hours and still not tire of it.”

  A breeze caused Rosalind to inadvertently shiver. The sight of a bat flying overhead did not help to ease her sudden discomfort.

  “I would think you have already had your fill of staring at me tonight, sir,” she said. “You did naught but keep your eyes on me throughout the meal.”

  Nathaniel chuckled and moved to stand in front of her. “Surely you cannot fault me for finding you so enchanting. Has no man ever stared at you before?”

  “Yes…of course.” Rosalind was grateful for the darkness that concealed her blush. “But none as relentlessly as you.”

  “I truly am sorry,” he said, moving even closer. “I was not aware I was causing you such discomfort. I do not believe you realize just how truly lovely you are, Rosalind. Your golden hair, your fair skin, your full lips – they are enough to drive any man to distraction.”

  She remained silent, not certain how to respond. She was eager to rid herself of the smooth-talking captain. Finally, she said, “If you will excuse me, I shall return to my chamber now. It has been an exhausting day.” She nodded at him. “Good evening.”

  “Do not leave yet,” Nathaniel said. Rosalind felt his strong fingers close around her upper arm. “My purpose for coming out here was to deliver some good news.”

  Rosalind eyed him suspiciously and tugged her arm from his grasp. “Oh? And pray tell, what is this good news of yours?”