Enchantress

by Constance O'Banyon

  “Stonehouse?”

  “Yes, miss.”

  When the carriage moved past the arched gate, Brittany caught sight of the stately European-style redbrick house that was set far back from the road. There were two separate wings to the house, but they were drawn together in harmony by the fig vine that clung to the brick. A green rolling lawn swept down to a brick walkway, and the house had a commanding view of the Cooper River.

  “How magnificent,” she said, turning shiny eyes to Cappy. “It is only right that Captain Stoddard should live in such a house.”

  “Oh, this wasn’t the house where he grew up,” Cappy assured her. “Captain Stoddard inherited Stonehouse from his uncle, who also left him the Victorious. He grew up on a Low Country plantation called Stoddard Hill.”

  Brittany held out her hand so Cappy could help her to the ground, then she watched as he aided Achmed.

  She did not want to stay in Thorn’s house, but she had become dependent on him.

  Here in America she could not find her way alone. And although Achmed had been a commanding figure in Simijin’s palace, here he was as lost as she was.

  With a feeling of trepidation, she moved up the steps, knowing Thorn had decided to move her to Stonehouse after the incident that afternoon.

  She had been afraid that Thorn had gone out of her life forever; now at least she might see him again since she was living under his roof.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Brittany moved through Stonehouse, examining each room, trying to find some trace of Thorn, but there was nothing to show that he had ever been here. According to Betty, the housekeeper, she and Daniel, the old caretaker, had looked after the house and grounds, for the house had not been occupied since Thorn’s uncle had died.

  Brittany had wanted to ask Betty questions about Thorn Stoddard, but she realized her mother would not approve of her questioning a servant.

  Stonehouse was an elegant home, and very unlike the huge impersonal palace where Brittany had spent her life. This house, she thought, was a place to raise children, for although the rooms were big, and the furnishings old, she could feel warmth here—yes, and she could imagine the sound of children’s laughter echoing down the halls.

  She stood before the wide bay window that looked out on the front lawn to the cobblestone road beyond. She watched the carriages, cumbersome landaus, and small buggies move past, on their way to unknown destinations. Where would life take her? she wondered with a feeling of melancholy.

  She thought of the tall, blue-eyed American who had been her guardian against danger. As Thorn had proven, he was a man capable of great deeds of valor, and she would always love him.

  It was because of him that she spent most of the day watching the road, always with the hope that he could come to see her.

  She looked up at the blue of the sky, against a backdrop of fleecy clouds. America was a land of beauty—of life, of new beginnings. This was a young country, and she wanted so desperately to belong. She had always known that Turkey was not her country, and now her former life seemed unreal to her, almost as if it had been lived by another person.

  Brittany could not have said what alerted her to the fact that she was not alone. But she turned slowly and found Thorn staring at her from the doorway. Her heart was pounding within her breasts as she saw how intently he was watching her.

  “I have taken unfair advantage of you, Brittany,” he said, walking toward her. “I have been watching you for some time. What were you thinking about that required such deep concentration?”

  She smiled shyly as he took her hand and seated her on the couch. “I was thinking about your country.”

  “Favorably, I hope.”

  She clasped her hands in her lap. “Oh, yes. I believe I could feel at home here.”

  He looked into her green eyes that seemed to have a calming effect on him. When he was with her, nothing else seemed of any importance. “Could you feel at home in this house?”

  She shifted her eyes from his disturbing glance. “Well, I did not mean in this house in particular. I have no intention of imposing on your hospitality longer than is necessary. And Achmed assures me we have money to pay you for your trouble, which I will insist on doing.”

  Her voice trailed away when she heard his amused laughter.

  Thorn leaned his head back and looked at her through lowered lashes. “No amount of money could compensate me for the trouble you have put me through, Brittany. And yet, I would not have forgone the pleasure of knowing you for any measure of payment.”

  She looked at him quizzically. “Sometimes I have a difficult time knowing if you are praising me or insulting me, Thorn Stoddard.”

  “I was merely stating the obvious. I believe you know I am past insulting you.”

  Her eyes moved the length of his long legs that disappeared into high-top black riding boots. He wore tan trousers and a whipcord coat. His white shirt was open at the neck, and she could feel the leashed strength in him. When she looked into his eyes, he raised an inquiring brow, and she looked away quickly, knowing he was reminding her of the intimacy they had shared.

  She stood up, and in a flurry of silk, moved back to the window to put some distance between them.

  Thorn’s eyes followed her across the room. Her winecolored gown enhanced her white skin. Her golden hair was devoid of adornment and hung freely down her back to her waist.

  Thorn tried to picture her as the dark-haired enchantress he had first come to know. There was the same smile, the same blue eyes, but she was even more beautiful as the golden goddess. He held his breath as she turned to face him.

  “Captain, I have written to my grandmother in Philadelphia, but as of yet I have received no word from her. I am hoping for a quick reply, so I will not have to impose on your generosity much longer.”

  “I would hasten to point out to you that the mail service here in America might not receive the same quick attention as a letter sent by Lord Simijin might receive in Turkey. Be prepared to wait for an answer to your correspondence.”

  She pursed her lips. “I had not considered that.”

  “You must feel free to remain here at Stonehouse as long as you wish.”

  She felt a lump forming in her throat. She owed him so much already. “You are kind as always.” She leaned her head against the velvet curtain with a fanciful look on her face. “I have also sent word to my mother and Simijin that we have arrived safely. Cappy said he would see that the letter is placed on the first available ship sailing for Constantinople.”

  “Yes, I know—he told me.” Thorn came to his feet and moved to stand beside her. “Have you thought what you will do if you don’t hear from your grandmother?”

  “I…no.” She raised her head, her green eyes troubled. “But you have my promise that you shall not be made to feel responsible for me, no matter what happens.”

  He glanced down at her, wishing he could take her under his protection, but she had already refused him that privilege.

  “I cannot see you returning to Turkey as long as Sultan Selim is ruler.”

  “No. I cannot return to Turkey, no matter what. Even now, I am frightened that the sultan may have taken his anger out on my mother or Simijin, although Achmed assures me that will not happen.”

  Thorn placed his hand on her shoulder and turned her to face him. “Put all unpleasant thoughts out of your pretty head. I have a feeling that everything will turn out all right for you. Meanwhile, consider Stonehouse your home.”

  “But it is not. It is your home, though it could not have been much of a homecoming for you since you felt compelled to put up at an inn.” She looked perplexed. “I have wondered why you do not stay here with Achmed and myself rather than at an inn. There is plenty of room.”

  He resisted the urge to take her in his arms. “It would not be proper for me to stay here, Brittany. Convention dictates certain rules that we must follow. Charleston is a small town, and there would be gossip if I stayed here with y
ou.”

  “I am trying to understand your customs, but they are sometimes perplexing.”

  Even though she had dazzled him with her sensuous dance and had given him two glorious nights of passion that he would never forget—still there was a purity about Brittany, an undeniable innocence.

  “This house is much too large for my needs, Brittany. And it was never my home, although I have fond memories of coming here as a boy, because it was my grandparents’ home, and my mother grew up here. Stonehouse came to me on the death of my mother’s brother.”

  “Cappy told me that you grew up on a plantation called Stoddard Hill.”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “Yet you are not living at Stoddard Hill, either. This is very confusing.”

  His eyes gleamed with mysterious lights. “Let’s just say that I need to be near the Victorious until her cargo is unloaded.”

  “After that, will you go to sea again, or will you be living on your plantation?”

  “My father’s plantation,” he corrected her with a half-smile. “As I have pointed out to you before, you are an inquisitive young lady.”

  She nodded. “That is one of my many failings. I always want to know everything about everyone.”

  “Is this to be a confession about your shortcomings, Brittany?”

  Impish lights gleamed in her eyes. “That kind of a confession would take too long, because I have many flaws in my character, not the least of which is that I sometimes lose control of my temper. But you already know that.”

  Thorn liked the endearing qualities in Brittany that made her honestly assess what she believed to be her shortcomings. He found his troubles melting away, lost in a pair of the greenest eyes he had ever seen.

  “Why don’t you tell me more about your faults, Brittany,” he encouraged.

  “Well,” she said reflectively, “I am much too stubborn, and I usually end up doing the wrong thing in every situation. My governess always swore that I was incorrigible and unmanageable, and she was right. I sometimes do things when I know they will get me into difficulty.” Her eyes glistened. “I believe it is the challenge of the unknown that prompts me.”

  He had not realized that he had taken her hand. “I hear the wild whisper of your heart, Brittany. There is an excitement about you that stirs my blood.”

  She pulled her hand away from him. He was standing so near, she could scarcely breathe. “You shouldn’t say that to me.”

  He realized he was being much too serious and lightened his tone. “Do you think you will ever mend your ways, or will you gain more imperfections as you age?”

  “Most probably I will only get worse with the passing of time. I fear I am hopeless. My mother always defended me by saying I was only adventuresome, while Simijin once told me that I was like my mother when she was younger.” She pursed her lips. “I cannot imagine my mother ever doing some of the things I do.” She glanced up at Thorn. “I think my mother is perfect.”

  His eyes moved over her face, and he smiled again. “Do you look like the English Rose?”

  “Simijin and Achmed have said I do, but I believe they were just being kind. My mother is a great beauty.”

  He turned her face up to the waning light of the setting sun. “You do not think you are beautiful?”

  She was thoughtful for a moment, then answered without conceit. “I must be or the sultan would not have wanted me.” She shrugged. “Mama says beauty of heart is much more valuable than a pretty face.”

  Thorn closed his eyes. Dare he believe in Brittany’s goodness? Could he learn to trust again? “What else does your mother tell you?” he wanted to know.

  “Once when I complained about looking too young for my age, she assured me it would work in my favor in later years. It’s hard to feel good about that.”

  He cupped her face in his hands, needing to feel her body close to his. “And how old are you, Brittany?”

  “Seventeen.”

  “So young,” he whispered, aware for the first time of how great an injustice he had done by taking her innocence. Although every nerve in his body cried out to her, he had sworn he would never touch her again. Even as he reminded himself of his resolve, his hand moved down her back and he laid his cheek against hers. He wanted her, and he would go on wanting her until he could tear her out of his mind.

  “I had to see you tonight,” he admitted.

  Her hand moved to the back of his neck, and she sighed contentedly, answering him with complete honesty. “I have thought of you all day.”

  He smiled against her sweet-smelling hair. “Have you?”

  “Yes, I have.”

  “Happy thoughts, I hope.”

  She closed her eyes, loving the feel of his strong arms about her. She loved this man so deeply that she could feel the turmoil within him. “I was wondering if you had found a solution to your troubles.”

  He stiffened. “And what troubles would those be?”

  She moved her head so she could see his face. “I do not know the origin of your difficulties. I only know that there stirs within you a great unrest.” She stared into his unfl inching eyes, unable to read what he was thinking. “Will you not confide in me so I can help you?”

  He roughly pushed her away. “You haven’t the slightest notion of the kind of troubles I face, Brittany. Nor would you be able to help me if you did.”

  She sighed. “As you know, Thorn, my life has not exactly been on an even keel, so I know what it is to suffer. You have done so much for me, and I would like to repay you.”

  He arched his brow. “Perhaps some would say I had already extracted payment from you.” His hand moved down to cup her breast, and she flinched at the anger she heard in his voice. “I would say you have paid the ultimate price, Brittany.”

  She pushed his hand away, wishing he had not referred to her surrendering of her body to him as payment. “I…you make it sound as if I were one of the women who sell themselves to a man for money.”

  He raised her chin. “And how would you know of such women?”

  She tossed her head. “I have heard the women of the harem talking. They have no liking for such creatures.” Her eyes were pleading. “Thorn, say you do not think I am that kind of woman. Remember the night you accused me of just that?”

  “That was before I knew you. I hoped you had forgotten about that.” He frowned suddenly, feeling the weight of his conscience. “I had better go,” he said, dropping his hands and stepping away from her.

  Suddenly she wanted to cling to him and beg him to stay with her, but pride came to her rescue. “When will I see you again?”

  “I’m not certain.” He moved to the door and turned to her, leaning against the jamb. “Are you all right? Do you need anything?”

  “I need nothing, Thorn.”

  He stared at her for so long that she began to feel uncomfortable. He was reluctant to leave. At last he said, “Come and walk with me in the garden, Brittany. I have something I want to say to you.”

  “If you like, Thorn.”

  Brittany took his offered arm, and together they moved out the door. By now the sun had gone down and dark shadows clung to the far corners of the garden.

  Suddenly she glanced up at him. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

  His mouth quirked briefly, and his eyelids flickered. “This will be difficult to say.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you turned me down once before. And to tell the truth,” he admitted, drawing her close and burying his face in her hair, “I could not bear to leave you tonight.”

  Her eyes were soft as she pressed her cheek against his. Happiness flowed through her body at his admission. “I did not want you to leave, either.”

  “You realize what could happen if I stay?” he warned.

  “We could just talk,” she told him, the longing in her voice betraying how she felt.

  Her nearness fired Thorn’s blood, and he released a long breath. “You and I are past
talking, Brittany. I want to be with you.” The moon made a silent path across the garden, while his eyes moved down her throbbing throat. “Yes, we are long past talking, Brittany.”

  “What do you mean?” she whispered through lips that trembled.

  There was a gleam of ownership in his eyes. “I mean that I want you to be my wife.”

  She pulled back and stared at him in disbelief. “We discussed this before, Thorn. Nothing has happened to make me change my mind.”

  Tension knotted the muscles in his chest, and his arms tightened around her. “I have never before asked a woman to marry me, you little hellion. And I doubt that I ever shall again.”

  She was suspicious of his motives. “Why have you asked me?”

  “Because you have me caught in your web, and you know it.” He hesitated, as if groping for words to express his bewilderment. “I have no choice other than to make you my wife, don’t you see that?”

  She wanted to hear him admit that he loved her, but he had not. She was wise enough to know that love and desire were two different emotions. “You have not yet said why you should take such a drastic step? Marriage is forever, and I was assured by the women of the harem that desire burns hot and turns quickly to ashes.”

  “Damn it,” he ground out in a thick voice. “A woman is not supposed to know about such things. But if you insist on questioning my motives, I will tell you this: I have wronged you, and there is no way of making it right for you other than marriage.”

  She shook her head and backed away from him, feeling as if her heart would break. “I will never marry a man because he feels it is his duty to marry me.”

  She turned away and ran back to the house. Although she could hear him calling after her, she did not slow her pace until she reached her bedroom and closed the door behind her.

  Hot tears she could not control blinded her. She now knew why she sensed turmoil within Thorn. He was feeling guilty because of what had happened between them. He felt obligated to give her the protection of his name.