He smiled and tilted her chin up so he could look into those beautiful green eyes. “Brittany, I like the way you relaxed me.”
Her smile was bright. “My aim is to please my lord and master.”
He shook with laughter. “The thought of anyone being your lord and master is most unlikely. I have been at your mercy ever since we met.”
She frowned, troubled by his words. “Are you saying I am—”
He placed his finger over her lips. “I am saying that I am your slave.”
Now her eyes danced with humor. “I like having control over you, but I doubt that any woman would exercise power over you for long.”
He kissed her lips and rolled to a sitting position. “Alas, I cannot remain to test that theory,” he said regretfully. “Unfortunately, I must leave as soon as possible.”
She could not mask the look of disappointment. “Must you?”
“Yes, I fear so.”
She stood up and pulled on her dressing gown. “I will have a bath drawn for you.” She moved to the bell pull and tugged sharply.
He came to her, his arms sliding around her waist. “It has been a long time since I have had anyone look after me. I may grow to like it.”
She tossed her head, her hair swirling around like shimmering gold. “I have told you that I have been trained to please a man.”
He laid his cheek against hers. “You have been trained to please this man,” he corrected.
“Yes, only you.” She threw her arms around him, aching inside at the thought of his leaving. “Come back as quickly as you can.”
His eyes held a serious expression as he looked down at her. “I have a lot to come home to, Brittany. I never have before.”
There was a knock on the door, and Brittany moved away to admit Livia. “Have a bath prepared for Captain Stoddard,” she said with the authority of one born to give orders, but her smile softened her words. “See that the water is hot and that there is plenty of it.”
When Livia had gone, Brittany turned to Thorn and found him staring at her with a strange expression on his face.
“Have I displeased you in any way?” she asked.
“No, to the contrary. I was just wondering how you will take to being mistress of Stoddard Hill.”
“Do not say it!” she cautioned, rushing toward him and clamping her hand over his mouth. “Do not wish anything ill on your father.”
He was puzzled, and then his laughter rang out. “So you are also superstitious?”
She looked uncomfortable, as if she did not want to be accused of believing in wives’ tales. “No, but as Simijin always cautions, it does no harm to be cautious just on the chance that superstitions have some basis of truth.”
“You are the delight of my heart,” he said, gathering her close once more and wishing he did not have to leave her. His eyes fell on the rumpled bed, and the idea of taking her to bed again was tempting indeed.
The decision was taken from his hands when Livia entered, flanked by three young boys carrying a tub and buckets of hot water. In no time at all, Thorn was submerged in the tub while Brittany folded his clothes and packed them in a satchel.
Thorn lathered his chest while watching Brittany. She seemed to know just what he would need. “You have proven most useful to me. I believe you could take the place of a valet.”
She neatly folded a white shirt. “You do not have a valet.”
“Come here,” he said, curling his finger. “I want to see if you are good at scrubbing my back.”
Obediently, she came to him. But when she would have reached for the soap, he gave her a tug and she fell into the tub with him. She sputtered and wiped the soap from her eyes while he shook with laughter.
“Now you have me wet,” she said, trying to get out of the tub.
His unhooked her dressing gown and pushed it over her hips. “So I have. I’ll just remove this wet garment.” He tossed it on the floor and pulled her on top of him. “Now isn’t that much better?”
She was incapable of answering him because his hands were moving over her hips and his mouth closed over hers. Her body became soft and pliable under his manipulation. Raising her up, he brought her down and slipped inside her.
He groaned with pleasure as she sat up, driving him deeper into her.
“You do please me, little enchantress.” His breath came out in a short gasp. “I like having you nearby. I never thought I would say that about any woman. What would I do without you?”
“Nothing I have been taught has prepared me for you,” she said, laying her head against his chest and listening to the thumping of his heart.
His eyes glazed with desire as she demonstrated just how well she had been trained. Her hands slid over his soapy body, and her lips parted beneath his. “Oh, yes, you have been well trained,” he breathed. “I will have to be careful or you will steal my heart.”
Brittany rode across the meadow toward the stable, the wind whipping at her hair and the sun warm on her face. For the first time in days, she felt almost lighthearted; she was a good horse woman, and she loved to ride.
She had been restless with so much idle time on her hands, and it was pleasant to get away from the house, where the very air she breathed was oppressive.
Brittany waited daily for some word from her mother, and she waited to hear from Cappy, knowing he was continuing the search for Achmed. She had begun to despair of ever finding her dear friend. She also waited for some word from her absent husband—but none came.
Brittany dismounted at the mounting block, and a stablehand led the horse away. With hesitant steps, she made her way toward the house, dreading the thought of encountering Thorn’s stepmother. Fortunately, she managed to evade the woman most of the time because Wilhelmina was a late sleeper and took most of her meals in her room.
Brittany was halfway up the stairs when Wilhelmina’s voice stopped her. “Brittany, will you come into the morning room? I would like to talk to you.”
Reluctantly, Brittany came back down the stairs. She did not trust the woman’s motives, and she did not want to talk to her. “I have but a moment,” Brittany informed her, stripping off her gloves and clutching them in her hand.
Wilhelmina walked around Brittany, looking at her red riding habit. “Your gown is well tailored but somewhat antiquated. Wherever did you come by such a creation?”
Brittany sat down on the edge of the sofa. “Thorn had told Matty that I might find useful clothing in his mother’s trunks in the attic. These were his mother’s gown and gloves.” She pulled up her skirt to display the knee-high riding boots. “Is it not amazing that Thorn’s mother and I appear to be the same size?”
Wilhelmina bristled, her anger visible in her sparkling eyes. “I was just wondering how you spend your days. I hardly see you.”
“I ride, and walk by the river. I have no particular routine.”
“I am told by the servants that you have a peculiar habit of bathing each day, Brittany. Can that be true?”
“Is it a peculiar habit? Where I come from, one is expected to bathe daily.”
Wilhelmina shook her head. “Needless to say, the people of your family must not live to a ripe old age. Too much bathing is not good for one.” Her smile was cruel. “Have a care, or you may succumb to some malady.”
Brittany had an uneasy feeling because Wilhelmina kept staring at her. “I have always been healthy. If you have nothing more to say to me, I shall go to my room,” Brittany said, coming to her feet.
“Not just yet. I would like to ask you a few questions.” Wilhelmina made an attempt at a smile. “I know so little about you, and, after all, you are my stepson’s wife.”
Brittany sat down again, although she was impatient to leave. “What would you like to know?”
“I understand you were born in Turkey.”
“Yes, I was.”
“But your father was an American. I believe he was from the eminent Sinclair family of Philadelphia.”
“That is right,�
�� Brittany answered woodenly. “You are well informed. I cannot think how you would know so much about me.”
Wilhelmina’s expression became harsh. “I have my sources. I believe you know that Thorn and I…” She shrugged. “I am certain you are not interested in how Thorn and I feel about each other.” She sat down beside Brittany. “I have heard that you lost a slave and are most anxious to get him back.”
Brittany tried not to show her distress at Wilhelmina’s innuendo about Thorn and herself. “Achmed is not a slave—he is my friend.”
“Another oddity,” Wilhelmina muttered. “I assume there has been no word of your…friend?”
Brittany nodded. “No, none.”
“Pity. You seem to suffer from this Achmed’s absence. If you have no objections, I will enlist Dr. Cross’s help in finding your man. The doctor visits most of the plantations in the county, and I will tell him to keep a look out for Achmed. Can you describe him for me?”
Brittany’s eyes rounded with hope. She could not believe that Wilhelmina would want to help her find Achmed. She was thoughtful as she decided how to describe him. “He is very tall and strong, and very black. He is intelligent, can read and write, and speaks several languages.”
Wilhelmina stared into Brittany’s eyes. “I will tell the doctor to look for just such a man. With Achmed’s special aptitudes, he should be easy to locate.”
Brittany came to her feet. “You are most kind.”
Wilhelmina seemed to forget that Brittany was there. She stood up and moved to the window. “I would not be at all surprised if Dr. Cross were to find your man.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
After lying awake for most of the night, Brittany finally fell asleep near morning. Her sleep was restless, and when she awoke there was no morning sunlight to greet her, for the room was gloomy and dark.
Slipping off the bed, she padded across the floor to the window and looked out on the storm clouds that now shrouded the sun. The dark, ominous clouds appeared to roll and boil violently. Her brow knotted with concern. The storm was coming from the direction of Charleston.
It was so dark that she was forced to light a lamp so she could dress. She quickly fastened her gown and left the room. She had wanted to ride today, but that would not be possible with the approaching storm. The air was heavy, and a feeling of foreboding that she tried to shake off enveloped Brittany.
George Cross trailed his hand across Wilhelmina’s breasts and down her stomach. “If this plan works, you will be one step closer to your heart’s desire.”
She curled up in his arms, soft and yielding, bestowing her favors on him because she needed his help. “Yes, when Thorn’s wife is dead, I will not be concerned about her having his child.” Her voice was laced with spite. “I detest that girl with her superior manners.”
“She is beautiful. It is a shame to end her life,” he said regretfully.
Wilhelmina twisted her head and looked at him. “More beautiful than I?”
He shook his head. “No one can compare with you.” “When we are rid of the girl, there will only be the old man and Thorn to contend with.”
“Yes, only Thorn and Ben.”
George fumbled with her heavy breast. He bent forward and sucked on the nipple, and she closed her eyes, hating the feel of his mouth.
Her hand trailed down his back. “Are you certain the man you engaged will know what to do?”
“Yes. I have given him careful instructions.”
George pushed Wilhelmina over and mounted her while she forced a smile. When he drove into her body, she wanted to scream out at the unwanted invasion, but she could not. She had to pretend that she enjoyed his clumsy lovemaking. He slid in and out of her, his breath coming out in short pants. His hands moved over her breasts, and his wet mouth closed over hers, making her feel nauseated. Waves of revulsion churned in her stomach until she thought she would scream.
She tried to imagine that it was Thorn who was in command of her body. She pretended it was his hands that caressed and teased her breasts—his lips kissing her into a heated surrender. Her breath was trapped in her throat, and she heard George grunt with a shuddering release. The fantasy could not last. George was a poor substitute for Thorn.
When George attempted to pull her into his arms, she pushed him away. “Can you trust this man not to talk after Brittany meets her…untimely death?”
“Yes. He is loyal to me.”
She got out of bed and moved to the window. Arching her body, she looked out the window as rain peppered against it. “George, this storm could work in our favor. If Brittany puts up a struggle, the rain will wash away the evidence.”
It was after lunch, and Brittany was resting in her room when the knock came on the door and Livia entered.
“Dr. Cross wants to see you, Miz Brittany,” she said. “He’s in the morning room with the mistress.”
Brittany quickly moved off the bed, fearing the doctor had grave news about Thorn’s father. She rushed downstairs and into the morning room, where she found Dr. Cross and Wilhelmina waiting for her.
Wilhelmina came across the room to her, smiling all the while. “You will never believe it,” the woman gushed. “I told you the doctor could help you.”
Brittany looked puzzled for a moment. “This is not about Thorn’s father?”
Dr. Cross come forward. “I fear your father-in-law’s condition has not changed. My reason for asking to see you is about another matter entirely. I have found your Achmed!”
Brittany could hardly believe it. To see her friend again would be wonderful. Suddenly her eyes darkened. “Is he well? Has he suffered?”
“I believe that he is now in perfect health. When he went into town for you, I am told he became ill. A kindly woman and her husband took him in to nurse him back to health. He did not know how to contact you since you had left Stonehouse.”
“When can I see him?”
The doctor glanced at Wilhelmina. “Well, the weather is bad today. It’s too muddy to take a carriage.”
“I can ride,” Brittany said excitedly. “I have to see Achmed for myself and know that he is well.”
“Well,” he said, pretending doubtfulness. “I have my man at the stables and he knows the way.” He shook his head. “No, it is unthinkable in this weather.”
Wilhelmina shook her head. “It is much too foul a day to be about. But if you do not go today, perhaps the roads will flood and you will be unable to go for days. That happens sometimes when the rain is heavy like it is now.”
“I am going to see Achmed today,” Brittany said with conviction. “I would appreciate it if your man would show me the way, but if he does not, Cappy will be here later in the day and he will accompany me.”
Wilhelmina’s face drained of color at the mention of the first mate. “I forgot about him,” she said, knowing that Cappy could ruin her plans. She looked at George Cross with a pretense of pleading. “Can you please convince your man to take Brittany into Charleston?”
George pretended to capitulate. “I suppose it will do no harm. Yes, I will have him lead you.”
Already Brittany was racing out of the room. “It will take but a moment for me to change into my riding habit.”
Wilhelmina’s face was etched with a satisfied smile. “Run, little bird,” she said maliciously so only George Cross could hear. “Run to meet your death!”
Brittany glanced at the doctor when he introduced her to Mr. Deavers, who would be leading her to Achmed. She then turned her attention to Wilhelmina. “If Cappy should come, tell him I will return as quickly as possible. If I find that Achmed is too ill to be moved, I may remain in Charleston.”
“Are you sure you want to go in this weather?” George Cross asked. “It will probably rain again.”
Brittany adjusted her hat at an angle so the rain would not settle on the brim. “Yes, I am going.”
Wilhelmina stood beneath the protection of the porch, a half-smile on her lips. “Deavers, take
care of your charge. See that she comes to no harm.”
A secret look passed between Deavers and the mistress of Stoddard Hill. “I will see to her,” he said with assurance. “You can depend on me.”
When Brittany would have ridden away, Deavers reached out and grabbed her reins, forestalling her. “Know this from the beginning—you will do exactly what I say at all times, is that understood? Or else I won’t go with you.”
She was startled by his forwardness. “I will do as you say, if it is in Achmed’s best interest,” she concurred, not liking the man’s high-handed attitude. “Can we go now?”
“Just so you remember that I am in charge.”
Brittany jerked her reins free and moved ahead of the man. She did not like him in the least, but she could endure him because he was taking her to Achmed.
As they rode away from Stoddard Hill, the storm clouds seemed to darken, and it began to rain once more. Brittany, unmindful of the discomfort, set her chin. It might be raining, but it was a glorious day. Achmed had been found!
They had been riding but a short time when the rain grew heavier, and still Brittany rode on, her great horse splashing through the puddles of water that stood in the roadway. She knew Mr. Deavers was beside her, but she refused to look in his direction.
It was late afternoon when Mr. Deavers motioned for Brittany to halt her horse. “You are pushing your horse much too hard, Mrs. Stoddard,” he shouted, shifting his gaze away from her. “We must not tire the poor beasts, who have to labor twice as hard in the mud.”
She whirled her horse away from him, resenting his attitude more than ever. When he caught up with her, she shouted to him. “I do not need instructions from you on how to care for a horse. I was taught by a man called Simijin, and he was a master with horses. This horse is not even winded.”
He regarded her with a cold stare. “Slow your pace or I’ll turn back.”
She did not know why Mr. Deavers was behaving so rudely. Her horse was still fresh. “I intend to push on. Since we have to go all the way into Charleston, we should hurry. If that is not satisfactory with you, then tell me where I can find Achmed, and I will go without you.”
Enchantress Page 26
