Behind the Raven Mask

by Cherime MacFarlane

  Behind The Raven Mask

  By Cherime MacFarlane

  Copyright ©1982 Cherime MacFarlane

  Copyright Notice:

  Please note this is a work of fiction. Names, characters places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, events or locales is completely coincidental.

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes:

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase a copy for yourself. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Artwork: Me

  Dedicated to:

  The father and the husband, who always encouraged me by telling me I could do whatever I wanted to do and whatever I had to do. To my sisters, all three. To the children, I love you all, it does not matter if I birthed you or not. To the grandchildren I adore. God bless each and every one of you.

  The dark bulk of Vancouver Island lay on the port side of the steam packet, Laurie. The Laurie was presently eight hours out of Seattle and into the Strait of Georgia. Samuel Devins, the master of the Laurie, straightened his black string tie and smiled at his reflection in the mirror. This voyage would be his first to Juneau, Alaska Territory and he was looking forward to turning a good profit.

  The lamp flickered, causing his image to fade in the mirror. The man peered intently into the glass, as he combed out his full black beard. Luck was with him when Clyde Barrow introduced him to the Russian Count, two weeks ago in Seattle. Barrow had provided the large load of supplies which now jammed the cargo hold of the Laurie. A portion of the cargo would be unloaded, with the Count, at his island home.

  The balance would go on to Juneau. Devins knew the miners there were short of almost everything from food to building materials. He would be able to supply their needs. Supply and demand, it was the lifeblood of the business community.

  The silver back of the hairbrush caught the lamplight and flashed it across the surface of the mirror as Captain Devins brushed back his thinning grey hair. He thought of the gold that would soon fill the leather pouch in the safe and laughed softly. Before the voyage was over, the pouch would be bulging nicely.

  Count Bressoff promised him a cargo of lumber, for the growing gold mining camp from his island sawmill. The townspeople of Juneau were building saloons and shacks from packing crates. Raw wood would bring whatever price he cared to ask for it. It was unfortunate that the Russian was demanding top dollar for his product. At least, the cost of shipping was lower than if the entire cargo were shipped up from Seattle, so there would be a tidy profit.

  On the return trip, the Laurie would carry furs, gold dust, and nuggets back to Seattle. The Count arranged the backhaul as well. Devins tugged the lapels of his black worsted, swallow-tailed coat into proper position and nodded at his reflection.

  "Well done, my man!"

  Smooth handling of this deal could lead to other business ventures. The Count had connections in Alaska and fortunes were being made there in everything from furs and gold to lumber and foodstuffs. Samuel meant to acquire his share.

  One immediate result of his good fortune was, he was no longer angry with his wife, Leontine, for coercing him into bringing their niece along on his first trip to the new territory. The girl caused no difficulty. Amazingly, she had proved useful. When Barrow dined aboard before their departure, Camille acted as hostess. The merchant was unable to keep his eyes off the girl's small, well-formed, body.

  In the last year, Camille had blossomed into a woman. It was a shame young Corporal Simpson, had not lived to enjoy his bride. The poor young Corporal! If Leontine's information was correct, the bridegroom did not consummate the marriage, before dying in his foolish attempt at heroism.

  Samuel snorted in disgust at the thought of such youthful idealism. Had it been his wedding night, he would not have willingly gone out into a storm to rescue a bunch of fishermen. Fishermen, stupid enough to have swamped their vessel in the potato patch.

  The patch, in San Francisco Bay, was one of the most treacherous stretches of water on the Pacific coast. Only an ass would risk his ship, trying to enter the bay in a storm. Only a complete ass would risk his life on his wedding night!

  The still fit, captain tidied the top of the bureau, before checking his trunk to make sure he had stowed all breakables. As he thought on it, he supposed it was the reason he had so little patience with Camille's grief. She should be grateful fate had seen fit to rescue her from a whining idealist. Instead, the child was consumed with grief. Camille was useless for months.

  Lately, time was beginning to work its healing magic. Signs of improvement on Camille's part were appearing. Perhaps the next time Camille married, she might allow herself to be guided by reason, instead of some tomfool idea such as love.

  Her physical attributes were sufficient for a wealthy man, someone like Barrow perhaps, to offer for her. If it could be arranged, he would be free of responsibility for the girl's upkeep and could, in the bargain, gain valuable contacts as well. A return on his investment would be welcome.

  Samuel settled his black captain's cap at a jaunty angle upon his head. Stepping out of the cabin, he closed the cabin door behind him. On deck, the captain took a deep breath. The brisk, salty air invigorated him. Samuel took the companionway stairs two at a time.

  ***

  Dmitri checked the drape of the coat of his evening suit in the full length mirror. Gregor had convinced him to wear the thing. His uncle was quite likely correct, shocking his business associate was probably not the best of plans.

  Having a tray sent up to his cabin, to avoid dinner entirely, was also vetoed by Gregor. Feeling irascible and short on patience, Dmitri wanted to be home in his cozy study. Then again, how long it would remain comfortable, was another matter.

  A nagging suspicion of trouble brewing with Anya, his daughter, would not be shaken off. The Count wondered if perhaps he should detour to Sitka and take the coward's way out. This particular business trip had not been unusual, nor any more tiring than normal. It was the thought of having to battle with his ten year old daughter that was causing him to feel like an old man.

  "I'm thirty eight! Devil take it, that's not old yet." He muttered as he strode to the dresser to find a cigar. Perhaps not. A small part of his brain agreed, before adding that Anya was, indeed growing up and certainly not ready to grace polite society.

  Sitting on a chair, he used his teeth to remove the end of the cigar and lit it. Such behavior was certainly frowned on in polite society, but he did not feel like being polite, or reasonable.

  Reaching inside his jacket, Dmitri fingered the tiny scar just inside his arm pit through the fine cloth of his shirt. The bite mark from Anya's claiming of him had drawn his fingers to it. His problem was, he wanted his wife, his daughter's name sake. Eight years and he still wanted the wild woman. She could leave scars all over his body if only...

  That line of thought would only increase his alcohol intake. Not a very wise choice. A diversion would be a good thing and something he was not likely to get. It was time to make an appearance at the Captain's table. Glancing at the top hat Gregor had laid out, Dmitri left it where it sat. He was almost home, and he was done wearing the damnable thing. He was going to dinner hatless, convention or no.

  A massive headache was threatening to blossom into being. Camille was quite aware of the cause, the stress brought on by th
e certainty of her uncle's wishes. Mr. Barrow was a widower and a superb catch, according to her uncle. Leontine, her aunt, would add her urging to the ongoing argument, once they returned to San Francisco.

  Both of them, having married for reasons other than love, did not understand her wish to do so again. As far as they were concerned, she had taken a chance on love and once was enough. Not having sufficient money from her young husband's estate and not being a favorite with his family, she was once again living on sufferance in her uncle's home.

  She had already asked for and been given the laudanum. Taking a tiny bit to stave off a headache until after her uncle's dinner certainly could not hurt anything. On retiring, she would take another dose. The very last thing she needed was a recurrence of the old nightmare. All Camille wanted was a dreamless sleep. Not bothering to look at herself in the small mirror over the built in chest of drawers, she went up to the main salon.

  ***

  The Captain and Count Bressoff arrived at the entrance to the main salon at the same time.

  Count Bressoff bowed slightly from the waist. "How are things progressing, Captain?"

  "Well enough, Count. I have engaged an excellent pilot, and we are making good time. I believe we can expect to reach Queen Charlotte Sound, the day after tomorrow."

  Reaching for the door knob, Devins opened the door and motioned the other man through. "After you, sir."

  With a nod, the tall, fair haired man entered the salon. The Laurie was well appointed. A solid mahogany dining table gleamed in the light of a crystal chandelier. The other first class passengers chatted sociably while the steward and his two helpers waited in the background.

  Their signal came when the Captain seated himself. Steaming, silver serving dishes were offered to the waiting passengers while a moderately good wine was uncorked and poured.

  Dmitri found himself sitting on the Captain's left, across from a dark haired girl wearing a muslin dress, sprinkled with small embroidered flowers. He noted her presence, in passing, as he glanced down the length of the table. Dmitri was amazed and somewhat dismayed at the number of passengers.

  In many ways, he was sorry to see the territory open up. Alaska was being raped, and her treasure stripped from her. Devins tapped on Dmitri's arm, calling his attention away from the others. With a brief gesture, Devins indicated the dark haired girl.

  "My niece, Camille Simpson. My dear, allow me to present Count Dmitri Bressoff."

  "How do you do?" She murmured softly.

  Above the demure neckline of the simply cut dress, the girl's face was a pale oval. Thick, dark hair was pulled back into a tight knot at the nape of her neck. Hazel eyes stared at Dmitri with a soft, unfocused look, as if she might have difficulty with her vision. Violet circles beneath her eyes, proclaimed to the world, she did not sleep often, or well.

  In an instant, he dismissed her as a high strung ingénue. Dmitri thought to himself; he was lucky to be free of such a charge. Anya, his daughter, was more than enough to handle. The Captain continued with the introductions. Dmitri broke off his scrutiny of Camille Simpson.

  The shabbily dressed man next to her was Mr. Wilkins, a mining engineer. With a touch of impatience at the formalities, Dmitri glanced at the next passenger. Sparkling blue eyes laughed up at him. The woman had noted his impatience with the situation.

  "Miss Vanessa O'Hare, may I present Count Bressoff." The captain's voice broke into his thoughts.

  "Delighted, Count." The woman inclined her head gracefully. Her copper colored hair gleamed in the lamplight.

  "As am I." Dmitri smiled lazily, as his gaze followed the line of her pale throat downward. The fair skin of her breasts surged from the tight bodice of the white gown.

  Vanessa smiled as she watched his face. A Count! What incredible luck! His blond hair was combed back, and a thin mustache accentuated the Count's full lips. He was a handsome man. The eye patch over his right eye did nothing to detract from his appearance.

  There was an aura of danger about him which attracted her strongly. Vanessa noted the spark of interest in his one gray eye and preened slightly. It was possible the voyage to the gold fields, might prove more productive, than she expected. Counting heavily on Juneau to provide sufficient funds to enable her to become independent, Vanessa was open to any opportunity that presented itself.

  Wealthy men had become a bore of late. Most of them were unattractive, as well as unimaginative in the bedroom. A European, a titled one at that, might prove to be an exception to the average.

  Dmitri rushed through the remainder of the introductions, by nodding then turning to the next person immediately and without comment. He would have ignored them altogether, had he a choice. Vanessa could be the antidote to the ennui that caused his days to drag incessantly, throughout the entire trip. He needed entertainment. Dmitri turned back to Vanessa eagerly.

  Anya waited at home. He was reluctant to become the settled parent of a ten year old child once more. In particular, he was feeling ambivalent about parenting that child.

  This last trip had been all business and Dmitri was restless. He set out to amuse himself. Vanessa laughed at his quips, arching her back to give him a good view of her lush bosom each time her laughter floated across the table toward him.

  She was not shy. During the long meal, Vanessa flirted unabashedly with Dmitri. The message was abundantly clear. After dinner, Vanessa excused herself, and Dmitri volunteered to escort her to her cabin. On deck, they watched the moon rise over the dark mainland. Vanessa shivered as a breeze lifted the bright curls from her neck. As Dmitri watched her pale shoulders quiver ever so slightly, he felt his excitement build.

  "Allow me." Taking the wineglass from her hand, he placed it on the deck. Lifting the shawl from the crook of her arm, he draped it over her shoulders. Lightly, Dmitri stroked her smooth skin with his fingertips. His palms cupped her shoulders for an instant, before slipping his hands gently around her upper arms, Dmitri pulled her against him. With a slight shiver, her body relaxed against his warmth. The woman's soft body nestled against him.

  Tugging aside the shawl, he kissed the pale skin of her neck. Vanessa pressed closer. With one sinuous movement, she slid the length of her body along his.

  "Are you toying with me, my dear?" Dmitri inquired.

  "Not at all, Dmitri. Consider this a promise." Vanessa laughed softly, as she reached behind her and placed one hand lightly on his hip. "However, I am sure the other gentlemen are angry at me, for dragging you away. Mr. Wilkins mentioned he did wish to speak with you."

  "Why should I care?" His hands traced the contours of Vanessa's waist while nibbling gently on her neck.

  "Ah." She moved her head against his chest, then slipped the shawl further up her neck, restricting his access to her fair skin. "We must be discreet, Dmitri. There is my reputation to think of. I do intend to marry well in Juneau."

  "As you wish, Vanessa. I shall return to the salon, filled with all their stuffy talk of business." Turning her face upward, with the tips of his fingers beneath her chin, Dmitri brushed her lips with his. "When will I see you alone?"

  She lifted one hand to stroke his cheek. "Give me an hour my dear, and then follow this deck to the stern. My cabin is the one on the left."

  Vanessa's fingers tightened on his neck, and she pulled his head downward. Her lips were soft and warm; her breath smelled pleasantly of the wine. The tip of her tongue flicked delicately at the corner of his mouth. With a slight smile, she slipped out of his embrace.

  "Until later, Dmitri." She gathered the shawl tightly about her, before setting off down the deck. Her hips swayed enticingly beneath the white satin of the gown.

  Dmitri smiled, as he thought about the encounter to come. Miss O'Hare knew what she wanted. A momentary surge of anger at having to delay his pleasure until later caused his jaw to tighten. Damn those greedy pigs inside! He was bored with their endless money grubbing.

  There should always be time for romance. Life was difficult w
hen there was no one to share the days with. He wondered if the wives of these opportunists were forced to take lovers, to satisfy their neglected emotions. The thought restored his good humor somewhat.

  Dmitri was smiling, when he returned to the smoke filled salon. Brandy and a cigar were welcome, but the incessant talk of the fortunes they all would find for the taking in Alaska, did not interest him. If anything, it caused a return of his irritation.

  Nearly home, Dmitri was losing patience with playing the role of a business man, consumed by the lust for more. But he swallowed the things he might have said.

  Attempting to distract himself, he tried imagining the scene presently taking place in Vanessa's cabin. Her creamy skin would surely glow in the lamplight like a pearl, fresh from the sea. Ah, yes. He must see her in the light. How far down her back would her bright red hair reach? Speculation caused his body to throb in response.

  With a muttered curse in Russian, he refilled his empty glass. In his impatience to be free of the unwanted company, Dmitri drank more than he had intended.

  Long fingers sought his watch. It was nearly time. Making his apologies to the Captain, he excused himself as quickly as possible. As he left the salon, the freshening breeze struck fully against him. His head reeled, bringing Dmitri to the realization that he was on the verge of being quite drunk.

  A lifeboat hung in the davits nearby. Dmitri leaned against it to draw in a deep breath. He stood there for some time breathing deeply of the sea air while waiting for his head to clear.

  Vanessa smoothed the dressing gown of emerald green silk over her legs. She turned the table lamp down, causing a soft glow to fill the cabin. Anticipation brought a flush to her fair skin. Vanessa closed her eyes to picture the things they would do together tonight. He would be good; she knew this instinctively.