Shain and Cole exchanged a resigned look, and Shain picked up Black’s reins and tied the horse before he could wander off again. “Go help Jeannie tie the other horses,” he told Alaynia over his shoulder. “They probably aren’t afraid of baby javelinas as much as they are grown ones, but no sense taking any chances.”
* * * *
As Alaynia hurried toward Jeannie, Shain joined Cole at the edge of the underbrush. The men waded through the briar-laden growth, following a faint path left by the javelina sow. Almost at once, they heard squeals and came out on a creek bank, where six small, gray piglets wallowed on the muddy shore.
“Hell, they can’t be over a week or two old,” Cole said.
Shain, though, was studying the mud-encrusted piglets with an eye toward how he could carry them without ruining his shirt. He walked over and picked one up, holding it out in front of him. The piglet squealed in terror at the unaccustomed handling and wriggled free of his grasp. When it plopped back into the mud, its littermates joined its frantic clamor. Shain shook his hands to free them of the clinging mud. “Maybe we could tell them we couldn’t find them.”
“Shain!” Jeannie’s faint voice came through the trees. “Did you find them? I can hear them squealing!”
Shain laughed, then reached down to grab another piglet. Slippery with mud, it, too, squeezed from his grasp. He lunged after it, and his boots sank in the gluey mud, throwing him off balance. He staggered a step or two and caught an overhanging tree branch a second before he toppled into the creek. Cole stood on the bank and guffawed, and Shain reached down for a handful of mud. It landed on Cole’s shoulder, spattering against his face.
“Hey!” Cole yelled, wiping at his chin.
“The next one’s going to land in your big mouth, if you don’t get down here and help me catch these damned piglets,” Shain said in mock anger. “You’re the one who shot their mama. I’m designating you stepdaddy.”
Cole grinned as he rolled up his shirt sleeves. “Well, friend, I don’t guess a litter of pigs will tie me down as much as bein’ a real daddy would. I’d rather face a javelina any day than some old fart with a shotgun.”
“You’ve escaped that by the skin of your teeth before,” Shain said with a chuckle. “Remember that Maxwell gal?”
Cole rubbed at a clinging piece of mud on his cheek. “I’d’ve done right by her, if things had turned out different. Only thing was, I wasn’t real darned sure about it bein’ mine when she told me. Turned out she delivered a little less than six months after I’d first had anything to do with her. The cutest little blond-haired, blue-eyed tyke you’d ever seen—and me and her both havin’ black hair.”
“Yeah, I know the story, and that blond-haired tyke’s the same age as Jeannie right now. But I get your point. Now you get your ass down here and help catch these little runts, or I’m gonna sneak off back through the woods to Chenaie and let you go out there and explain to Alaynia and Jeannie why you don’t have these damned pigs with you.”
Cole slid down the creek bank, where the piglets were reforming into a squirming bundle of tiny, grunting bodies, seeking comfort from each other in the face of the danger they suspected. Since his boots were already wet, Shain waded out into the creek and approached from that side, while Cole cautiously crept up from his position. Shain grabbed the nearest piglet, clutching it firmly this time. It squealed and wiggled frantically, but he dunked it into the creek water to wash off the clinging mud, then tucked it under one arm.
Cole snatched the tiniest piglet, and just as he tried to take a step out into the water, its remaining littermates scrambled in a mad dash between his legs. Caught off guard when his foot almost came down on one piglet, Cole wavered for a second, then sat down in the mud.
“Aw, shit,” he muttered before he looked down at the little body in his arms. “Well, at least I kept hold of you.”
“Oink,” came his answer.
Chuckling with laughter, Cole got to his feet and strode out into the creek, where he sat down again. Holding the piglet between his legs, he cupped water in his hands to wash it off. Shain shook his head at them both and carried his squealing pig up the creek bank, starting back toward the road.
“I’ll be back and help you catch the rest soon as I hand this little bugger over to the ladies.” He glanced down at the flat nose and huge eyes staring up into his face. “Let’s just see how they like trying to hold onto one of you squirming critters.”
“Oink.”
Chapter 12
When the groom hurried from the stable as the riders approached, Alaynia willingly handed the tiny piglet to him. Plucking the damp material on her bodice away from her skin, she waited on her mare while Shain instructed the groom to take the animals to a brood sow, which had recently birthed a smaller than normal litter. Jeannie happily tucked a piglet under each arm and helped the groom and Cole carry them away.
“Do you think the sow will accept strange babies?” Alaynia asked in a worried voice.
“We’ll have to see,” Shain replied. “If not, I guess we’ll have to bottle feed them for a few days, until we can get them eating some watered-down mash. It won’t be the first time we’ve had to hand-raise orphaned animals at Chenaie. And Jeannie’s in her glory when she finds an animal to take care of.”
Alaynia nodded absently, her gaze taking in the freshly whitewashed barn with the connected stable area, then swinging around to look at the expanse of lawn between the barn and manor house. The attorney had also sent her pictures of the rear of the house, but the grounds had been weed-choked and the barn a dilapidated structure sadly in need of repair.
The detached kitchen area had seemed the perfect place for her to use for her own quarters, and she’d been thankful when the attorney said Miss Tilda had updated the house with central air and heat ten years previously. Chenaie lacked that modern convenience now, but the large windows throughout the house opened, allowing cool breezes to filter in. The live oak trees scattered around the grounds were already mature enough to provide an abundance of shade, though they had grown even larger in the photographs she had.
Seeming to glean the direction of her thoughts, Shain said, “Is it so very different later on?”
Not wanting to wound him with how sadly neglected Chenaie would become in the future, Alaynia only shrugged. “I seem to recall a gazebo on the list of buildings.”
Before replying, Shain held his arms up to her and she slid from the mare with the assistance of his strong grasp. His hands remained around her waist, and he pulled her a step closer. “I guess I need to let you in on a secret.” He bent his head to share his confidence with only her.
“What would that be?” she asked around the catch of breath his nearness almost always caused.
He lowered his head further, to whisper in her ear, “Southern men always assist their ladies off their horses because that’s another accepted way they can get their hands on them.”
She giggled and swatted at his shoulder, twisting free. “Well, I’ll wait patiently for your assistance in dismounting from now on, so I won’t embarrass you by making people think you lack manners. But you’ve had your hands on me quite enough already today.”
“More than my hands,” Shain said with a chuckle. “And not enough, by any means. Remember, too, that the day’s not over yet.”
Alaynia scrutinized him fondly for a few seconds, but when he reached for her again, she quickly stepped back. “You were going to tell me about the gazebo,” she reminded him.
Shain cocked his head to one side and returned her gaze. “A white dress, with lots of lace,” he said with a nod. “Don’t let Jake buy you a white dress, because that’s going to be my present to you. It’ll be perfect for you to wear in the evening out at the gazebo.”
“And the gazebo is where?”
Shain sighed in resignation and pointed in the general direction of the graveyard. From this lower level, the tombstones were hidden by a hedge on the edge of the rose garden, but the
site remained fixed permanently in Alaynia’s mind.
“There’s a small pond back there,” Shain said. “It was formed when Grandfather’s slaves dug up the clay soil to make bricks for the chimneys and kitchen ovens. The chapel’s also over there, a ways to the right of the gazebo. I’ll have to show them both to you—after I get you that white dress.”
Instead of responding to his teasing, Alaynia frowned a little. “I don’t remember a chapel on the list of buildings.”
“It’s fairly small—only large enough to seat the family members. The gazebo’s about three times as large itself. One of these days, when I get the time, I’ll take you all over Chenaie—show you how the plantation runs, and let you meet some of our workers’ families. Right now ...” He took Alaynia’s arm and started toward the back veranda. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about having Tana check you over. I want you to go on up to your room and rest while you wait for her.”
“Darn it, Shain. I told you I was all right.”
“We’ll let Tana pass judgment on that. Well, what do you know?”
Shain paused, and Alaynia followed his gaze to the back veranda, where a tall, beautiful black woman stood up from one of the cane rockers.
“How that woman always knows when someone at Chenaie needs her, I’ll never understand,” Shain said with a shake of his head. “Come on. I think you’ll like Tana.”
Tana walked along the veranda in a graceful stride to meet them as Shain and Alaynia climbed the back steps. Up closer, Alaynia found her even more striking. A muted burgundy-colored gown encased her slender body, and she wore a matching turban. Her sculptured face reminded Alaynia of pictures she had seen of Cleopatra, lounging in a boat as her servants poled her down the Nile.
But Tana’s brown eyes were anything but lazy, as Cleopatra’s had always been pictured. She studied Alaynia with an inquisitive, probing gleam. “So,” she murmured. “You have come from far away.”
“Uh ... yes, Boston,” Alaynia replied.
“Not even farther than that?” Tana asked.
“Lord, Tana,” Shain put in. “You could at least let me introduce you, before you go asking Alaynia for her life history.”
Tana smiled at Shain. She was nearly as tall as he was, and Alaynia felt almost petite next to the two of them. When Shain made the introductions, Tana surprised her by holding out her hand for Alaynia to grasp. Instead of shaking her hand, though, Tana turned it over, palm up, and studied it briefly. Then, with a nod, she relinquished her hold.
“Tana’s not only a healer,” Shain explained in the face of Alaynia’s mystified look, “she reads palms. Tana, I’m glad you’re here, although I can’t figure out how you knew I’d be sending someone after you. Alaynia took a spill from her horse, and I’d like you to make sure she doesn’t have any injuries she’s not telling me about.”
“I will do as you wish,” Tana said in her quiet voice. “I have some ointment that will help heal bruises. Come,” she said to Alaynia. “We will go to your room, so I may examine you.”
“Alaynia’s room is the Camellia Room,” Shain called after them as they started walking away.
Alaynia glanced at Tana in surprise, when the woman drew in a startled breath and faltered a step, but Tana immediately walked onward and opened a door, revealing a steep stairwell. Picking up a small satchel from beside the chair she’d been sitting on, she motioned for Alaynia to ascend the stairwell.
“This leads to the bedrooms, also,” she explained as they climbed the stairs. “I have come before, when someone at Chenaie was injured or ill.”
At the top of the stairs, Alaynia preceded Tana down the hallway to her room. Inside the Camellia Room, she turned to see Tana hesitating at the door. “Come on in,” she insisted.
Warily glancing around the room, Tana entered and set her satchel on the end of the bed. “You will need to undress,” she told Alaynia.
Resigned to being examined by Tana, and frankly admitting to herself that there were a few aches and pains that would benefit from a soothing ointment, Alaynia picked up her robe from the back of a chair. Carrying it with her, she stepped behind the dressing screen, which also hid the bathtub, now empty. “I’ll just be a minute.”
When she reemerged, Tana stood by the window seat, arms crossed beneath her breasts as she stared out the open window.
“Chenaie’s gardens are lovely, aren’t they?” Alaynia said in an attempt to get Tana’s attention.
Tana turned slowly. “You have the awareness. I saw it in your hand. What you have is even stronger than my own, though you have not worked to nourish it.”
“A ... an awareness of what?” Alaynia stammered, immediately recalling her fear that morning when she had felt herself caught in some power emanating from the graveyard.
“The spirits,” Tana replied. “I think you have already experienced them. There is more than one at Chenaie, but one, he is very unhappy here, though he will not leave.”
Alaynia’s mouth dried instantly, and she unsteadily walked over to sit down on the bed. “I ... Shain said you were a healer, not a psychic.”
“That word I do not know, but my mother, and her mother before her, they could touch the other world. They only did it with respect, though, as I do. And as you must.”
“I’ve got no intention of trying to speak to any spirits that might be haunting Chenaie, Tana. Please, let’s don’t talk about this, because it’s scaring me. I don’t intend to stay at Chenaie for long. I’ll be leaving soon.”
“It is a long journey back to where you have come from.”
“It didn’t take me very darned long to get here,” Alaynia said before she could stop herself. Then she clamped a hand over her mouth and stared at Tana with a horrified look. Dropping her hand, she said, “You know. Don’t you?”
“Not all of it.” Tana quickly crossed the room and sat down beside Alaynia. “Sometimes I see things, even when I do not want to, but even then, there are riddles in the visions. I saw a woman who looked as you do, floating through the air. My mind told me that she would need me and that I should come when she arrived. I do not think your fall from your horse was the need the vision spoke of.”
“Rubbish.” Alaynia shook her head in denial. “Damn it, Tana, I’ve never been psychically sensitive. And I’ve never been to the South before,” she added truthfully. “Everything’s different down here—the weather, the customs, the people. My nerves are just a little frazzled from trying to get accustomed to things I’m not used to. That’s all it is.”
Tana nodded solemnly and stood to reach for her satchel. “The time may not be right yet,” she said as she opened her bag and probed among the contents. “Time in the visions has no meaning. Sometimes it becomes clear the next day—sometimes months later.” She handed Alaynia a bundle of herbs, but kept the small tin. “Use those in your bath water for two days. And if you will show me your aches, this ointment will soothe them.”
A few minutes later, Alaynia rose from the bed as Tana washed her hands in the wash basin on the stand beside the dressing screen. She’d recognized the scent of eucalyptus in the ointment Tana rubbed on her body, and sniffed the herbs she still held in her hand, identifying the same odor there. Her skin tingled in her hip and back area, where Tana had smoothed the ointment over her skin in soothing strokes, and the warmth was already melting away the pain from her fall.
She smiled to herself as she recalled Shain’s words that afternoon about helping massage away her aches. She hadn’t changed her mind one bit about denying him access to her bed that night—it would just be too darned complicated for her to get any further involved with Chenaie’s master in this time period. Unlike some women she knew, who considered an overnight lay with a man just a scratch for the itch of sexual desire, she preferred an emotional commitment with the physical one.
Neither her relationship with Ted nor John had been undertaken lightly. She and Ted had just drifted into different spheres as they matured, and parted with tender pr
omises to get in touch some day. Of course, they never had. Her fury at John’s deception had left her thinking at first that she’d broken off that relationship in a clean rift. But he’d left a lingering malaise in his wake.
Something told her that a commitment to Shain would be a complete, soul-shattering dedication, which she could never forget or put behind her. No matter how much she wanted it—and she truthfully admitted to herself that she’d never wanted anything more—she had to keep her head on straight. She’d always had only herself to depend upon and, for the most part, made mature decisions about her life. When she hadn’t, she’d accepted the consequences and plunged forward again.
But she couldn’t quell the thought that at least once in her life, she deserved to have a mad, irrational, passion-filled fling. The hell with being logical. The hell with the future—wherever it was now, with her living in the past. Shain St. Clair would definitely be worth the risk.
“Only a man can bring that look to a woman’s eyes,” Tana said in her soft voice.
Alaynia had almost forgotten the other woman’s presence, and she was a little disconcerted at how easily Tana read her thoughts—and how close she came to the realities. When she caught Tana’s gaze, she quirked her lips and shrugged. Instead of being irritated, she already felt a closeness to this woman that defied description.
“Maybe so,” she admitted. She sniffed the eucalyptus leaves again, then laid them on the bedside table. “I appreciate your treatment. The eucalyptus is working already on my aches. I’ll crumble some of the leaves in my bath this evening.”
“You know of the uses for the plants?” Tana inquired.
“Some,” Alaynia said. “I’ve always been interested in them. Mostly, though, I just make sachets from dried flowers or grow herbs to cook with.”
“That is another of the ways to know those like ourselves,” Tana said. “They have a closeness with the things that grow.”
“Tana, please. I don’t want to talk about this.”
Witch Angel Page 14
