Silverswept

by Linda Ladd

  Brace answered as her voice trailed away without naming Donovan. “I was fortunate enough to inherit the fair features and disposition of my mother.” He paused, his eyes taking on a devilish gleam. “While, alas, poor Donovan was left to possess our father's black hair and eyes, and ofentimes dire moods to match."

  Alysson's lips parted in surprise, but Brace only smiled, then turned to the two young men still haggling over her trunk.

  "Good of you, chaps, to come to the rescue of this fair lady. Kindly follow us with that, if you will. Milady?” He grinned down at Alysson as he proffered her his crooked arm.

  Alysson put her fingers on the smooth blue fabric of his uniform, already liking Captain Brace MacBride a far cry better than she did his older brother. He escorted her up the gangplank, leaving two disappointed would-be suitors to wrestle aboard her heavy trunk. As they reached the ship's main deck, Alysson gave him a grateful smile, and Brace set admiring eyes on the deep dimples that framed her small white teeth. Her green eyes moved past him, and her expression faltered uncertainly. Brace turned to find Donovan presenting her with a deadly glare that would surely wither the hardiest rose from its stem. No wonder the girl's eyes had lost their light.

  "Come this way,” Donovan said in clipped tones, eyeing her in cold distaste. “You, too,” he added to Brace, annoyed at his brother's attempts to pamper her. He moved away, barely glancing at the two fools with the trunk, who were smiling at Alysson as she thanked them for their help. Jagged anger scraped together like a fractured bone as he walked with long strides to the door below the quarterdeck. He would soon find out if she meant what she had said about signing a document of annulment, or if that was another of her lies, because he meant to have her signature dried and witnessed before they raised a single sail.

  Alysson looked around in curiosity as she followed Donovan across the deck and through a doorway. She had never been aboard a ship before, not even a small boat, and she was most impressed by the wall panels of cream-colored silk and the finely crafted glass lamps that lit the carpeted companionway down which he led her. It was little different than being in a fine home, she decided, just smaller and more compact, as they came upon two ladies conversing in the corridor. Both were dressed in the latest fashion, with high-waisted gowns: one of pastel pink, the other of daffodil yellow. Both wore high-crowned bonnets to match their dresses. Donovan stopped, politely bidding them a good day, and the ladies’ fawning remarks made no secret that they found him to be most attractive. As Brace MacBride came up behind Alysson, they greeted him with equal enthusiasm. As for Alysson, she was scrutinized by two pairs of envious eyes as she proceeded along with the tall and handsome MacBride brothers.

  Not long after, in a different hallway, Donovan opened a door, and stared indifferently at Alysson as she preceded him into the cabin. Inside, she found a large, beautifully decorated stateroom with elegant furnishings. On the wall across from her, four round portholes draped in plush gold velvet were set above a comfortable sitting area where couches of green-striped satin were built into the wall. On her close right, a large desk was at right angles to a corner liquor cabinet. The two men relaxing in chairs in front of the desk rose upon sight of her.

  Donovan left Brace to close the door and moved behind the desk. Alysson sat down in a black leather desk chair that Donovan indicated with a wave of his hand as he greeted the other men. Alysson had to steel herself not to shudder as he put those burning black eyes on her.

  "This is my personal secretary, Mr. Lionel Roam,” he said, looking at a slender young man with small wire-rimmed spectacles perched on a thin nose. He gave Alysson a nervous-looking smile. “And this is the first officer of the ship, Lieutenant Robert Statler."

  The officer, a middle-aged man with lively blue eyes and a thick black beard peppered with gray, gave a smart bow from the waist.

  "How do you do?” Alysson murmured to them, feeling self-conscious and ill at ease in the presence of four men she hardly knew. As they returned courteous responses, Donovan reached in front of her, slid open the top drawer of the desk, and removed a crisp sheet of fine white parchment covered with small, precise handwriting.

  "These gentlemen have kindly consented to act as witness to your signature on this document, as has my brother. Neither Mr. Roam nor Lieutenant Statler know what is written herein, since I penned it myself.

  Brace, of course, I have taken into my confidence."

  He laid the document in front of her, pushing into her reach a heavy silver inkwell and quill pen.

  "You may take the time to peruse it, if you think it necessary, then affix your signature near the bottom where I have indicated."

  Alysson was well aware that four pair of masculine eyes followed her every movement as she bent over the paper. Despite her nervousness and desire to be done with the distasteful business, she read every line slowly and with great care. Donovan MacBride's hatred was not something she could take lightly, and she didn't trust him any more than he trusted her. He could very well have included some incriminating remark that, once her signature was upon it, would see her thrown in jail where he would be rid of her forever.

  To her relief, however, she found that though the terms were couched in eloquent language, the facts were stated in a simple, straightforward manner. It said in effect that she had no claim now or in the future to the MacBride name or holdings. It further gave her unqualified consent to a speedy annulment once they arrived on American shores. She read the last clause through, then frowned and read it again. Furthermore, it stated, Donovan MacBride had been coerced into marriage by the trickery and deceit of Alysson Tyler. By trickery and deceit! The incriminating words ate into her mind like acid, and she raised determined green eyes to meet the black ones contemplating her.

  "I cannot sign this agreement unless the last words in this line are deleted,” she said firmly, placing her slender forefinger on the offending text.

  The eyes of the three witnesses swung to her, surprised at her quietly voiced objection, then just as quickly swiveled back to Donovan to gauge his reaction.

  Donovan's face revealed nothing as he leaned over her, glancing at the words she found unacceptable. He straightened.

  "You are in no position to make demands of me, madame,” he said coldly.

  Alysson's fragile chin came up a bare notch. She would not be bullied into signing her name to a lie.

  "I believe, sir, that you have far more to lose if you do not delete those words than I will lose by not signing this paper."

  Her calm defiance first shocked Brace where he sat watching, then he hid a smile behind his hand. It was a rare occasion indeed when Donovan was bested over a contractual point, and he knew, as he was sure Donovan did, that Alysson Tyler was right.

  A muscle flexed and held in Donovan's bearded cheek, but he took the pen from Alysson and scratched out the disputed phrase. Once done, Alysson picked up the quill without hesitation and carefully wrote her name at the bottom.

  Donovan took the parchment out of her hand before she had barely lifted the quill. He examined her signature scrawled in a rather childish hand, half expecting her to have used Silver Sinclair, or one of the other aliases she no doubt had. He sprinkled sand over the wet ink, then shook it off, folding the parchment until only the bottom half was left uncovered for the witness's signatures.

  Everyone watched silently as Lionel Roam signed his name in a scholarly slant, followed by Lieutenant Statler's hasty signature. Brace MacBride signed last, carelessly scrawling his name, then giving Alysson a conspiratorial grin as he dropped the quill on the desktop. Donovan frowned darkly at his brother's friendly overture to Alysson, but she felt distinctly better because of it. Donovan ignored her as he melted hot wax on the fold, then sealed it with his gold signet ring.

  "Thank you very much, gentlemen,” he said, shaking hands with each as they arose. He waited until the door closed after his secretary and Lieutenant Statler, then looked at Alysson.

  "I prefer
that no one know about what transpired between the two of us in London. I intend to let it be known around the ship that you are a friend of our family who is traveling under my protection. Unfortunately, it will be necessary for you to make the crossing here in our stateroom with my brother and me since all the other cabins are booked."

  Alysson's eyes widened in alarm; she was completely unnerved by the thought of living in such close quarters with Donovan MacBride for over a month. A long shiver rippled over her skin as a vivid picture of the two of them entwined on the bed in Donovan's town house intruded in her mind.

  Donovan's smile was brittle, as if he could read her mind. “I assure you that you will not be molested by me. There is a draped bunk across the cabin from my own, and I have had a screen set up in front of it."

  Alysson looked across the room and found the black and scarlet Chinese screen that had been removed from the bedroom in the town house that very morning.

  "No one will disturb you here,” Donovan continued. “And after witnessing the way you flaunted yourself in front of those two fools on the docks, I think it best to keep an eye on you.” His voice was cruel. “I don't intend to put myself in a position of being falsely accused of a paternity suit from your casual shipboard dalliances."

  Alysson lowered her eyes, a wave of embarrassed color rising to darken her cheeks. Even when she heard the door close after Donovan, she couldn't bring herself to meet Brace MacBride's eyes.

  "Believe it or not, Miss Tyler, my brother is a perfect gentleman most of the time. That remark was unpardonable."

  Alysson looked at him, grateful for the sympathy in his eyes. “I can understand how he feels. He believes my father and I tricked him into marrying me. If I thought such a thing about someone, I also would despise the two I thought had compromised me."

  Her understanding of Donovan's boorishness surprised Brace. He searched the slanted green eyes. “And is that true?"

  "No, but I cannot expect you to trust me any more than he. I can only wait until the annulment is complete, then be on my way. That should prove that I am sincere."

  Brace smiled. “And that will be the day that my brother owes you a sincere apology for his rudeness this day. You and I both know that you did nothing to encourage those men on the quay."

  "Thank you, Captain.” Alysson smiled up at him. At least he was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt, which was more than his brother was willing to do.

  "Now, madame, if you will be so good as to pardon me, my duties await me topdecks."

  He bowed, and after he had left, Alysson looked around at her elegant surroundings, relieved that Brace would be along on the voyage to soften the piercing hatred in Donovan MacBride's black eyes.

  She turned at a light rap on the door. Stephens bustled inside, giving Alysson a businesslike nod before he turned to direct a burly seaman following him with Alysson's trunk. The man carried it across to the lacquered screen as directed, but his eyes remained appreciatively on Alysson. He lowered the chest with one muscular forearm, smiling at the pretty blond lady until a disapproving stare from George Stephens reminded him to be on his way.

  "Mr. MacBride has instructed me to see that you are made comfortable during the voyage, Miss Tyler. If there is anything you want or need, I will be more than pleased to see to it for you."

  Alysson smiled at the fastidious little man, having gotten to know him somewhat during the last week at the MacBride town house. Although he was always terribly formal with her, he had been kind. Early in her stay there, she had detected the barest hint of the King's English beneath his clipped Americanized speech.

  "Thank you, Mr. Stephens,” she said, smiling. “Could you be of English birth, by any chance?"

  "Aye, miss, but I prefer to think of myself as a true American, and it pleases me prodigiously that Mr. Donovan thinks of me that way as well."

  Disdain for his English heritage was obvious, and Alysson could not help but wonder if all Americans held the British in such contempt. She contemplated this as Stephens moved to her trunk and lifted the top. Curiosity about the MacBride family prompted her next remark.

  "It sounds as if you have been with Mr. MacBride for a very long time, Mr. Stephens."

  Stephens nodded as he transferred a folded blouse to a built-in chest of drawers behind the silk screen.

  "Yes, miss, for sixteen years now. Mr. Donovan took me in when I was sold into indenture to pay my father's gambling debts."

  Alysson couldn't hide her surprise. “He must have been very young then."

  "Aye, he was not yet twenty, but he had had the responsibility for his whole family even before that."

  "His father must have died very young."

  Stephens glanced up at her. “The redcoats hanged his father, miss, during the revolt."

  Alysson stared at Stephens as he went on with his unpacking, wondering if that were part of the reason Donovan MacBride detested the English, but she didn't want to ask Stephens any more questions for fear he would repeat them to Donovan.

  When Stephens had finished his task, he came toward her again.

  "I share a small cabin next door with Mr. MacBride's personal secretary,” he told her. “Should you have need of my services, there is a bellpull there near the lamp. ‘Twill ring a bell beside my bed."

  "Thank you, Stephens, but I do intend to see to myself as much as possible. I'll try not to bother you overmuch."

  Stephens looked visibly startled. “I assure you that is my job, and I will be honored to serve you as my master's guest, Miss Tyler. If you'll excuse me now, I will see to Mr. Donovan's things."

  Alysson nodded and looked around the room, wondering what to do with herself now, and as for that, what to do with herself for the long weeks of the voyage. After a few minutes, Stephens noticed her listless contemplation of the empty cabin and offered a suggestion.

  "The ship is about to be winched to midstream, miss. Perhaps it would interest you to go topdecks and observe our disembarkation?"

  Alysson smiled, welcoming his suggestion. “That does sound nice. I have never sailed before, you know."

  "Yes, miss."

  Stephens busied himself on the other side of the stateroom, where Donovan and Brace had draped bunks and dressing areas, and Alysson left quietly. There was no one in the companionway outside her door, and when she came up into the fresh air, she realized that the thirty or so passengers were congregated at the railings to watch Captain MacBride weigh anchor.

  Most were on the main or quarterdeck, and Alysson immediately picked out the tall, statuesque figure of Rosalie Handel, surrounded by her entourage of actors. She hesitated, wondering if she should join them, then decided against the idea, afraid they would hold her responsible for Donovan MacBride's anger.

  Instead, she made her way up the steps to the forecastle deck, where she chose a solitary spot near an immense figurehead that leaned out over the water. She recognized the female figure at once as Halcyone from the Greek myth, and she admired the carving with its flowing wooden robes molding the body as if the sea-wind already swept over it.

  The ship began to move as longboats towed her to center stream, and Alysson looked behind her as Captain MacBride called orders. His crew moved to their tasks, and sails were hoisted with a rattle of booms and yards. The brisk wind caught the great sheets of canvas with a whooshing sound, filling the topgallants, and the Halcyone began to move in the current of the Thames River.

  Alysson stood alone beside the figurehead, the wind at her back, blowing her hair over her cheeks. She breathed deeply, feeling very alone. Her dream of going to America was coming true, but how very different were her feelings from what she had expected. She felt empty inside, and loneliness lay like a heavy stone upon her heart. She was without her mother and Mathilde and Freddie, with no friends, no money, no one around with whom to talk, but only a man who looked upon her with black eyes full of loathing. How could she take joy in such as that? She shivered, pulling her white silk shawl
closer around her shoulders.

  It was the beginning of a new life, and she should face it with more courage, she told herself. She was going to America, and she would never see her father again. That in itself was reason to rejoice.

  She closed her eyes tightly as the ship skimmed along the wide river, past anchored sloops and brigs bearing the flags of faraway places, past river estates nearly hidden in their great deer parks, and others with river gardens and pavilions at the river's edge where the rich held their great parties and balls. A curious ache touched her heart for she was truly leaving her homeland forever. She never wanted to return, but what awaited her on the other side of the ocean?

  "Bonjour, ma petite, is this not exciting?"

  Alysson recognized the French accent at once and turned to find Odette Larousse close beside her, her dark curls blowing every which way. Odette gave her a bright smile.

  "I came here to thank you for taking my place as you did. Rosalie was quite cross with me over it, and if it had not been for Edgar's talking to her, I am afraid she would have left me here in London. I could not bear that, since I want to go to America very much, even though I miss the gay life of Paris and all my friends. Your real name is Alysson, oui?"

  "Yes, Alysson Tyler,” Alysson began, smiling as Odette chattered on before she could say more.

  "We look like the wooden woman there, do we not? Though why she holds the bird's nest, I cannot say,” Odette said, reaching up to pat her hair, while the wind whipped her skirts, molding them to her legs until she did, indeed, look like the masthead.

  "She is Halcyone from the Greek myths. They believed that she was so heartbroken when her husband, Ceyx, drowned in the Aegean Sea that the gods took pity on her. They turned both of them into birds they called halcyons. After they build their nests upon the surface of the ocean, the waters were supposed to grow calm and the winds grow quiet."

  Odette stared at her. “I surely hope the sea is calm for us, for even the channel crossing from France made my stomach heave and twist."