by Sara Orwig
Tides of Passion
Sara Orwig
Copyright
Diversion Books
A Division of Diversion Publishing Corp.
443 Park Avenue South, Suite 1008
New York, NY 10016
www.DiversionBooks.com
Copyright © 1987 by Sara Orwig
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
For more information, email [email protected]
First Diversion Books edition April 2015
ISBN: 978-1-62681-774-6
Also by Sara Orwig
The Civil War Saga
Atlanta
Memphis
New Orleans
The Southwestern Saga
Albuquerque
Denver
San Antonio
The Comanche Series
Comanche Temptation
Comanche Eagle
Comanche Passion
Oregon Brown
Heat Wave
The Goodies Case
Sweet Desire
Texas Passion
Warrior Moon
1
Sussex, England
1804
Josh
Sunlight glinted on the smooth, silvery surface of a pond beside a grassy meadow in the county of Sussex. On a nearby sloping hill the drooping green branches of oaks cast short shadows in the bright midday sun. Hoofbeats broke the stillness of the countryside as two boys on horseback approached. A bay was in the lead, its long stride steadily widening the gap between the two mounts.
A brown-haired lad leaned over his horse’s neck, his fists clutched in the mane while the stallion’s hooves tore little bits of earth with his pounding stride. They raced toward the stream at the bottom of the hill and the bay, without breaking his stride, jumped over the stream and rushed across the meadow to leap a hedgerow.
Glancing over his shoulder at his younger brother, Joshua Cathmoor Brougher Raven laughed and shook the brown hair away from his face. They reached a lane, cut across it, and raced up another hill before finally halting at its summit. Walking the horse, Josh patted its sleek, arching neck while his eleven-year-old brother, Phillip, caught up. “You win again!” Phillip said with resignation.
“That’s because Mordren’s the fastest horse at Cathmoor Manor!”
“If Father ever discovers it, you’ll never ride him again,” Phillip said quietly.
“He won’t. I’m careful,” Josh answered as he dropped to the ground. While both boys were clad in identical brown leather breeches and white shirts, they bore little family resemblance. Fifteen-year-old Josh was beginning to fill out and achieve the height of a man. He was far taller than his thin younger brother. Josh had a straight nose and unruly dark hair that held a wave, while Phillip’s nose was slightly upturned and his pale brown locks hung straight. The only similarity between them was their green eyes, though Josh’s were more thickly lashed.
The horse snorted, dropping his head to pull at a tuft of grass. Josh moved ahead, momentarily listening to the soft whistle of the wind over the hilltop, then stood quietly surveying his world. In the distance sunlight brightened the Sussex oak timbers that framed the flint-filled walls of Cathmoor Manor. Gazing over the trees and hilltops to the valley below, his eyes narrowed, and he raised his hand to block the bright sunlight. Below him, a man moved furtively, crouching close to the ground as he worked with a silver tool that glistened in the light. Josh shook his head.
“There’s Sheldon poaching again—risking his life for a few rabbits.”
“Why does Father have to be so hard on him?” Phillip asked.
“You know why!” Josh snapped.
Phillip moved to Josh’s side and looked down. “I overheard Foster tell one of the maids that Father is trying to drive Drusilla Chance from the village, and according to him, Sheldon befriends Drusilla. If Father catches Sheldon again, he’ll have him sent to prison. But I still don’t understand why he hates them so.”
“Because, little brother, Drusilla Chance has borne two children, a baby girl and a small son, and they have the same father as we. ‘Bastardy’ is the word for it,” Josh said bitterly, revealing what he had learned about the Chances only a month earlier.
“Dog’s teeth! We have a brother and sister?”
“No. Our father won’t acknowledge them. He wants them out of his sight.”
“Is Sheldon acting as father to them?”
“Probably, and it must enrage our father.”
“Who are the children?”
“Fletcher and Roxanna Chance. They’re babes yet.” Josh started to turn away, when he heard another sound and paused, his eyes narrowing. “I hear horses.”
Phillip gripped Josh’s arm. “Look over there. It’s a hunting party.”
Josh followed Phillip’s pointing hand, spotting the group of horsemen. Servants, his father, and two of his father’s friends quickly disappeared beneath thick trees in a glen. He felt an icy chill run down his spine. “They’re coming this way. They’ll find Sheldon.”
As Josh flung himself on the horse, Phillip spun around and grabbed his brother’s leg.
“What are you going to do?”
“Warn Sheldon.”
“You can’t! You know Father will beat you. He was furious last time you protected a poacher.”
“I can’t let Sheldon go to prison.”
“Josh, don’t go.”
“Get away from here, Phillip. Ride for home, where they won’t see you.”
His brother began to cry, tugging at his boot. “Don’t! You’ll just get another beating! Don’t go!”
Josh wheeled the horse away and raced down the hill, his eyes fixed on the thick stand of trees where his father would have to ride if he were to discover Sheldon. He heard the bark of a dog and knew that within moments they would catch the scent.
While a rabbit screeched and flopped in the trap, Sheldon’s head came up and he stood up, looking at Josh riding toward him, his head whipping around in the direction of the dog’s bark.
“Run, Sheldon! Father comes!”
Snatching up a dead rabbit, the man paused for an instant, then ran into the woods, leaving one rabbit caught in the trap. Josh jumped off his horse, whacked its flank soundly so it ran ahead and disappeared in a copse of trees to his right. He glanced across the field to his left just as the first dog loped into sight.
Opening the bloody trap, Josh watched the rabbit thrash in agony. He picked up a rock and killed it, knowing the hare was maimed beyond saving. Josh looked at the red smeared on his hands and wiped them on the grass. When the first baying hound reached him he snapped a command. “Down!”
The dog halted its gait, then edged forward slowly. Josh’s heart thudded as men rode into view. For an instant as he viewed his father’s broad shoulders and the large stallion that carried his father’s bulk so easily, Josh wanted to find his horse and try to outride his father. He squared his shoulders instead and raised his chin while his heart pounded with fright.
William Brougher Raven, Duke of Cathmoor, reined his black horse. As Josh looked up into the angry hazel eyes of his father, the other horses swirled to a stop and the dogs ran in circles, sniffing the ground.
“So what have we here?” Lord Raven asked, his dark brows drawing together above the bridge of his prominent nose. He was larger than most men, and the thickness of his arms and his strong hands were intimidating. A streak of fear shot through Josh as th
e duke’s gaze scanned the woods behind Josh, then returned to glare at his son.
“Who’s been poaching on my land?” the duke asked.
Josh shrugged. “I just came over the hill.”
Josh saw his father’s riding crop swish downward and he flinched, turning his face. It caught him on the cheek and temple in a stinging blow that made him gasp. He wanted to throw up his hands to protect himself, yet he didn’t. He clenched his fists, feeling rage ignite within.
“Don’t lie to me to protect some thieving rabble who should be flogged and sent to prison!”
“Yes, sir.”
“Who was it?”
“I didn’t see anyone. A rabbit was caught and injured; I killed it to put it out of its misery.”
“And whose hat is that?” his father asked coldly.
Josh turned, and following the line of his father’s riding crop, he saw Sheldon’s battered old hat lying on the ground. For an instant Josh was tempted to admit whose hat it was, but he thought of his father’s two bastard babies and the plight of their mother. Taking a deep breath, he answered in a shaky voice, “I don’t know, sir. No one was here when I came,” he lied, bracing for another blow.
His father’s jaw squared as he flicked the reins. The horse pranced forward a few steps and turned so that the duke’s back faced the other men. He leaned down, and his whispered voice was a hiss. “You’ll continue to defy me at every turn!”
Josh stared at him in silence. His father’s stern features hardened, and he pulled sharply on the reins. The horse moved back while Lord Westerly glowered at Josh coldly. Josh knew the men his father associated with had reputations for cruelty that matched his father’s, a fact Josh accepted in the certainty that no decent man could long stomach Lord Raven’s ways.
“Who was poaching?”
“I didn’t see anyone, sir. I heard the rabbit in the trap—”
“Who was poaching?”
“I don’t know, sir,” Josh answered, knowing a flogging was coming. Lord Raven motioned to one of his men. “Set the trap and leave the rabbit carcass as bait.”
“Yes, your grace,” the man answered, and hurried to do as he was instructed. Lord Raven’s attention returned to Josh.
“You were only interested in the rabbit?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then you may tell me whom you protect or you may reach down and take the rabbit out of the trap. You’re so deeply concerned with the rabbit, you may keep him.”
Josh’s blood ran cold, and he stared at his father with disbelief and horror. He heard one of the men gasp, and Lord Westerly swore.
“Damn, Raven, you’ll cut off your son’s hand! He could bleed to death!”
“No, I won’t,” the duke said calmly, his gaze never leaving Josh. “I’ll learn the name of the poacher now. Even my defiant son has enough sense not to want to go through life with one hand. A poacher is hardly worth a hand,” he said, staring at Josh. “All he has to do is tell me the poacher’s name. Now, who the devil was it?”
“You’ll have him imprisoned, sir,” Josh replied evenly, though he felt gripped by fear.
“That I will if he deserves it. His punishment is for me to decide. Tell me his name!”
Suddenly Josh looked around wildly, desperate to escape the punishment he knew was coming, yet determined to defy the cruelty of his father. In one swift movement he yanked up a stout stick, thrust it into the jaws of the iron trap as he snatched the rabbit away. The teeth of the trap snapped, closing on the thickness of wood, catching Josh’s fifth finger as he screamed in pain and fright and tried to yank his hand away.
“Damn!” his father yelled. “Open the trap.”
The groomsman’s face was ashen as he tugged the jaws apart. Josh held his bleeding hand open as he faced his father, who had come down off his horse. “Get his hand bandaged!” Lord Raven ordered. He looked at Josh as a servant rushed to cut a strip of cloth from a banner folded in the saddlebag. The duke moved closer, his face tinged purple with rage. “Let me see your hand.”
Josh looked down at his bloody hands and maimed finger. He met the duke’s angry gaze.
“You defy me at every turn!” He slapped Josh, almost knocking him to the ground, with a crack that broke the silence.
“Tonight you’ll be punished for your defiance and you will tell me the name of the poacher.” He turned. “Dickson, take him home and have his hand bound.”
“Yes, your grace.” The groomsman rode forward and swung Josh up on the back of his horse. Josh felt waves of pain come from his finger, but he was more aware of what lay ahead—a flogging when his father’s fury was goaded to the limit. Lord Raven would beat him senseless and beyond. Josh shuddered, and turned to look back at the group of men, who hadn’t moved.
An hour later he was in his room experiencing a pain far greater than anything physical as he faced his brother.
“You might have cut off your hand!” Phillip cried.
“He knew what I might do!” Josh snapped as he bent down and pulled on high-top boots. “He knew and he didn’t care.”
“You know he didn’t expect you to thrust your hand into the trap! He’s probably furious that you defied him—especially in front of his friends.”
“So be it,” Josh said curtly, tucking leather breeches into his boot tops.
“It’ll be the talk of the village that he caused his son to reach into a set trap. And it’ll only make him angrier that you did!”
“He gave me damned little choice. I won’t take another beating from him.”
“Take me with you. You can’t leave me alone with him.”
“I can’t take you!” Josh straightened up and faced his younger brother. “Can’t you see, Phillip—I may not be able to take care of myself even though I’m tall for my age. I can lie and say I’m eighteen and maybe someone will believe me and give me work, but you can’t. You’re small and you’re only eleven. Once I find work, I’ll come back for you.”
“Promise me, Josh!”
“I promise, and you know I keep my promises.”
“I don’t want you to go.” Phillip wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.
“Do you want me flogged to unconsciousness tonight?”
Phillip shuddered as he wiped more tears away. “No. Why is he so cruel? It’s as if he hates us.”
Josh fastened the laces at the neck of his white chambray shirt, then pulled on a brown coat. “You know he sees our mother in us. He’ll always hate her for running away and will blame us.”
“You don’t know she ran away. No one knows what happened to her.”
Josh paused a moment, then dropped five guineas in his pocket. “She ran away—that you can be sure of, no matter what they say. He’s a cruel man, and her parents arranged the marriage.”
“Old Betsy says he wasn’t as cruel before.”
“Cruel enough. A tiger doesn’t change his claws. I’m taking Mordren.”
“You are? That will make Father more enraged than ever.”
“Mordren is my horse.” Josh’s voice softened. “Stay out of the duke’s way. Go to bed now and tell them you have a fever and do just as he says. If he asks you who poached, tell him. Sheldon’s had time to get far from here.” Josh pulled on his coat and picked up a hat. He turned to stare at his brother. Phillip’s eyes were wide, his thin body hunched as he sat on the edge of a narrow bed. Swiftly Josh crossed the room and hugged him tightly.
“Take care, Phillip,” he said grimly. He hated to leave Phillip behind. “Do as he says. I promise to come back.”
“You have to, Josh,” Phillip said, his eyes filling with tears.
Taking the small bundle of food Phillip had brought to him from the kitchen, Josh turned away, pulling the hat on his head as he quickly went downstairs, wiping angrily at his burning eyes. He prayed Phillip did just as he had advised. Pausing at the back door, he surveyed the grounds, and seeing that his father was nowhere near, he crossed to the stables.
&n
bsp; In another quarter of an hour he rode away from Cathmoor Manor. At a bend in the lane he tugged on the reins and slowed Mordren to a walk, then turned in the saddle to look back over his shoulder. The gray slabs of Horsham stone that formed the roof of the manor could be seen above the treetops. “I’ll come back, Phillip. I’ll come back,” he said aloud. As he urged the horse to a gallop again, dust rose in puffs behind him.
The next morning Josh sedately walked Mordren. Having breakfasted on hard bread, dried beef, and a crumbling slice of rumcake, he was still hungry but afraid to eat more, since he needed to make the food last until he was nearer to Portsmouth.
The lane cut through groves of beech and oak trees whose thick green branches loomed overhead. He heard hoofbeats approaching and sat straighter in the saddle, staring ahead intently.
Three men rode into view, and Josh presumed they were local men, for they were dressed in plain breeches and coats like the villagers who lived near Cathmoor Manor.
“Hallo, laddie,” one said, and Josh noticed the pistol he wore at his side. Josh grew wary as he saw the other two were armed with knives.
“Good morning,” he answered, trying to make his voice as deep as possible.
“You ride a fine horse there.”
“Yes. My friend and I have a long trek.”
“Friend? Looks as if there is only one of you,” one of the men said as Josh approached them. He gazed coolly back, urging Mordren forward. The three men stopped, blocking the road, although they sat with smiles on their faces.
“My friend is behind me. Only a short distance,” Josh said casually.
“Want to sell your horse? Or trade for mine—a few coins thrown in?”
“Sorry.” Josh began to edge Mordren toward the right side of the road. He judged his chances and knew he had none if the ruffian drew the gun. “I’m rather partial to my horse, and his lordship would be angered if I sold him.”
“Who is ‘his lordship’?” one of them asked.
“My father, the Duke of Devon,” Josh lied, hoping to make them fearful of reprisals without revealing his true identity.
