Silverswept

by Linda Ladd

  She frowned, picking up her brush and drawing it through her hair. Just when he had begun to treat her a little better, that had to have happened! Well, she wouldn't be intimidated again, she vowed, twisting her thick hair into a heavy chignon at her nape. She would act as if nothing had happened, and if he mocked her or accused her, then she would totally ignore him.

  Nevertheless, she listened intently for any movement across the room. The meeting had broken up soon after she had doused the candle, but she knew that Donovan had remained behind because she had heard him summon Stephens after the other three had retired from the room. Besides that, she could detect the aromatic aroma of the cigars he favored. Completely dressed now, she fidgeted restlessly with the brush in her hand, wishing he would leave the cabin so that she could escape without having to face him. Her stomach rumbled quite heartily, reminding her how hungry she was. She had not had a bite since the morning before the storm, but still she sat, thinking he would surely leave soon.

  Moments later, she heard Stephens enter amidst unfamiliar clinking and rattling sounds, and when her curiosity got the better of her, she hazarded a cautious peek around the side of the screen. The rotund little valet had draped a small pushcart with white linen and was setting flame to a triple-branched silver candelabra upon it. Alysson next scanned the room for Donovan's presence and was startled when her search found him in one of the deep leather chairs nearby, calmly watching her furtive perusal of the cabin. Embarrassment assailed her again, and her first inclination was to duck back and pretend she hadn't seen him. Before she could accomplish it, Donovan stood and smiled.

  "I have taken the liberty of ordering us a private supper tonight, in the hope that you will honor me with your company."

  Alysson stared, doubted, then recovered from her shock and tried to regain her composure as she stepped from behind the screen. Donovan walked to her chair and held it, and Alysson sat down, more than suspicious of his motives. He moved to his own place across from her, and both remained silent as Stephens served them with his usual elegant demeanor.

  "That will be all, Stephens. Thank you."

  Stephens left silently, and Alysson took a deep breath, deciding to get it over with before he could mention it.

  "I am very sorry about disrupting your meeting, but I was already in the bath when you arrived. You see, I persuaded Stephens to let me use the hipbath. I thought you would be busy in your office, and I really didn't mean—"

  "I know. Stephens asked my permission about the bath before he brought it in for you. It slipped my mind, or I wouldn't have brought my associates here."

  Alysson stared at him, especially astonished by the friendly smile he was giving her. He certainly didn't appear angry. But why not?

  "Would you like some wine?"

  "No,” Alysson said quickly, covering the top of her goblet with her fingers.

  Donovan smiled. “I was afraid you had too much last night. Are you feeling better?"

  "Yes, thank you."

  Alysson watched as he filled his own goblet with the ruby-red liquid, unreasonably uncomfortable with him. She couldn't remember all that had passed between them, but he, no doubt, could. Nevertheless, the poached sea trout on the platter between them smelled heavenly, and her stomach would not be still. She began to eat, trying to forget he sat so near. It was impossible, for he ate little himself, instead drinking occasionally, his eyes never leaving her. Finally she could stand no more of it and laid down the heavy silver fork. She met his gaze.

  "Why are you staring at me?"

  He remained unruffled by her abrupt question, his eyes still searching her own. Those black eyes fascinated her, so dark and unreadable, yet piercing enough to always make her feel vulnerable and insecure.

  "'I was wondering if I could believe you. If you have been telling me the troth about yourself from the beginning.'

  Alysson was surprised. “I did tell you the truth. You chose not to believe me."

  "You did very little to convince me,” he countered, sipping his wine.

  "What good would it have done? You tried and convicted me, and the truth sounded like a lie even to me. I knew I had done nothing wrong, so I could live with your unjust accusations. ‘To thine own self be true,'” she added.

  Donovan's mouth curved slightly at her dimpled smile. “And if I remember correctly, another line from Hamlet said, ‘Smile, smile, and yet a villain be.’ I suspect that holds for villainesses as well."

  Alysson had to laugh. “You too are a follower of William Shakespeare? I would not have thought it."

  "No? My education was quite extensive. It was more surprising that you have studied him so assiduously. Rosalie tells me you can recite Romeo and Juliet from memory. It surprised me the Italian nuns would teach English plays to their students, especially one about love and suicide."

  Alysson looked nonplussed. “Italian nuns?"

  "You were schooled in a convent near Rome, were you not?"

  Alysson laughed at such a notion. “You were misinformed, sir. I grew up in Cornwall with my mother."

  Donovan was startled but didn't show it. Was she lying again? His men had been most thorough.

  "Your mother?” he asked slowly. “I thought she died when you were very young."

  "She died recently."

  Donovan read the pain in her green eyes before it was hidden by the thick veil of her lashes.

  "Your father never mentioned he had a living wife,” he began, but Alysson's eyes came up, hard with loathing.

  "He hated her, and he hated me, but not as much as we hated him. He killed my mother before my eyes, only a month before I met you. He hit her with his fist, and she broke her neck when she fell down the steps of our farmhouse."

  Donovan's face showed no horror, no sympathy, and Alysson breathed deeply. “I don't suppose you believe that either, do you? Another of my lies, you're probably thinking, but I don't really care. I am only glad to be away from him, and even the length of this ocean isn't far enough for me. I tried to get away from him the night we met, but unfortunately ended up with you."

  Her face was now flushed high with angry color, her fists clenched on the tabletop, but Donovan reminded himself that she was an actress, a very good actress. The emotions could be part of her act to win his confidence, all planned in advance by her father and her. But what she said fit with the other things he knew about her, the mystery of her whereabouts in London, the lack of friends and acquaintances who had known her in her childhood, as well as her hatred of her father and fear of being tied. He was sure she hadn't lied about that.

  "You had no formal schooling, then?” he asked, pouring her a glass of wine. She looked as if she needed one.

  She took it and sipped it, leaning back again, and consciously relaxing her muscles. “No, not after my grandfather died and Father took us out to Cornwall."

  "Then where did you study Shakespeare? Surely not in Cornwall."

  "I found an old trunk full of books in the attic of the farmhouse. I read them all. There was little else to do."

  Damn if he didn't believe her. But how could Lord Tyler deny a girl like Alysson the advantages of his wealth and prestige? With her intelligence and beauty, she could have been the toast of London society. She was his own daughter. Why would he stick her out in the wilds of the Cornish coast? There was much more to it than probably even Alysson knew, and he decided then that he would find out. He listened closely as Alysson went on.

  "Besides, I learned everything I needed to know from my books. More than I would have in school. Odette says she went to a convent school and that she only learned sewing and how to walk properly with a book on her head. She has never even heard of Seneca or Plautus."

  A vision of the flighty Odette and the other sophisticated whores of Mademoiselle Rochet's sitting around their red velvet sitting room reading the ancient Roman plays came into Donovan's mind. He laughed softly.

  "No, I dare say she wouldn't know of those two. But she knows a
good deal about life. I think you probably quote Shakespeare because you have experienced so little."

  "It is true that I haven't done many things or been many places, but I know much of love and hate, and revenge and ambition, because Shakespeare wrote of all of it. I know the terrible consequences of jealousy from reading Othello. And ambition from MacBeth. Shakespeare was very wise, you know, and I need only remember his words to understand people. You, for instance"—she paused, her eyes on his face—"you are like Hamlet was, obsessed with revenge against me."

  Donovan smiled. “And what about The Merchant of Venice? You mentioned Shylock just last night."

  "We discussed Shakespeare last night?"

  Alysson wondered at his strange smile, and when he didn't answer, she spoke.

  "The Merchant of Venice taught me about greed and hatred."

  "You do amaze me, English, but you seem obsessed with tragedies and villains. Don't you know anything about the happier side of life?"

  "I have known little of that,” she answered truthfully, “but I will, for I intend to have a wonderful new life in America."

  "What do you intend to do with this new life of yours?"

  "I intend to become a great actress, the greatest actress who ever lived.” She smiled. “Would you like to hear more of my dreams?” He nodded, and she continued. “I'll have dozens and dozens of flowers in my dressing room on opening night, and as many men waiting at the stage door for me as Odette said awaited her in London. And I will choose the one who gives me a crown of white roses laced with silver ribbons."

  She had obviously spent a good deal of time conjuring up such dreams, Donovan thought, watching her magnificent eyes glow brightly as she revealed to him what she wanted the future to hold for her. If what she had said last night were true, she had lived a very lonely life of hardship in a very lonely place with few friends or luxuries. Her dreams had been her escape. Tenderness rose in his chest, and he found himself wanting to help her achieve all her dreams and more. Stiffening, he caught himself up short, angry at himself. She had a way of getting beneath his guard, making him forget his usual cynicism.

  "You think me silly, don't you?” she said suddenly, and Donovan shook his head.

  "No, I think you just might reach your goals someday."

  "Do you really?"

  She was like a child again, pleased at his confidence in her. Donovan nodded. “You'll be an actress then, but what about the other things that most women want so much?"

  Alysson leaned back again, smiling. “Do you mean a husband? That is something I will never have. After I am free of you, I will never marry and let some man hurt me and rule my life as my father did to my mother. And I will never become a man's mistress, even though no man will want me for a wife without a dowry."

  Donovan wondered if she could actually believe that. Men would want her, all right, any way they could get her. She would be sought after by every man in New York from the time she stepped off the Halcyone. He looked toward the door at the sound of a knock, and Billy Brock appeared there, his hat in his hand.

  "Pardon me, Mr. MacBride. I didn't know ye were suppin'.” He looked eagerly at Alysson. “We was worried ‘bout ye, Aly. Ye missed the rehearsals and all, and nobody's seen ye all day. Are ye all right?"

  Donovan watched Alysson, who was obviously delighted to see the boy. She rose at once.

  "I was ill this morning, but I am fine now. I should have had Mr. Stephens tell you. Here, I am finished now, and we can go for a walk around the deck if you want.” Belatedly, she remembered she was dining with Donovan. She looked down at him as he rose politely. “You will excuse me, won't you?"

  Donovan inclined his head. “By all means, Miss Tyler."

  She smiled up at Billy and took his arm, and Donovan sat down again after she left. He took a cigar from his gold case and leaned forward to light it on the taper in the middle of the table. He puffed it to flame, then sat back, staring at the vacant chair across from him. Alysson had jumped up as if guilty when Billy came in and found them alone. Did she like the boy that much? He wondered, then was brought up short by another idea. Did she think herself in love with the young pup? They were certainly together every minute of every day. The thought did not sit well with him, and he frowned, realizing he was acting almost like a jealous beau. He dismissed the idea, laughing to himself. What an absurd thought. He had never been jealous a day in his life, especially over women.

  Chapter7

  Another full week of rehearsals brought the day of the play, and there was a good deal of excitement and anticipation among the passengers, who were in deep need of a pleasant diversion after long days at sea. It was late afternoon, the sky a clear lapis-blue with white cumulus clouds resting on the far horizon like mounds of whipping cream. Pleasant breezes propelled the proud Halcyone at a swift clip, sails billowing like proud flags to catch the favorable gales while the actors performed beneath them on the forecastle deck.

  Most spectators had chosen seats on the main deck, where boards had been laid across barrels for makeshift benches, but Donovan stood by himself at starboard stern. His regard remained steadily on Alysson as she stepped out and leaned over the forecastle rail to gaze down at Romeo where he stood on the starboard stair. She was dressed in a flowing brown velvet gown of medieval cut, the bodice low and square-cut, the sleeves tight-fitting and ending in a point over the back of her hand. Her bright hair was loose and rippling down her back, while the sides were plaited into a crown of gold atop her head.

  Donovan could not take his eyes off her, as fascinated with her loveliness and regal poise as was the rest of the audience. Although he knew it was her first real production, she showed no hint of nervousness, her words flowing with the poetic ease which William Shakespeare had no doubt envisioned when he penned them. She was perfect for the role of Juliet with her youthful beauty and endearing look of innocence.

  His breath caught as Alysson leaned over farther, tentatively extending her hand toward her lover. She quickly withdrew it, her face reflecting the confusion and conflict that a Capulet would have suffered upon admitting her love for a Montague. It was intriguing the way she could display such convincing expressions, especially as young and inexperienced as she was. She was superb, he admitted to himself, experiencing his own conflicted emotions as he realized she would indeed achieve her dreams of fame and fortune that were so important to her.

  A tolerant smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he recalled her naiveté the night of the storm. “I have decided to become a great actress and courtesan in New York,” she said matter-of-factly, and he well knew that she had the ability to excel in both professions. Her exquisite beauty would be enough to tempt any man, and she had talent and wit as well, and a sweet softness about her that muddied a man's mind, making him crazy to possess her.

  Donovan glanced down at the benches below him. The male passengers were as enraptured by her as he was. One would have had to be blind during the last weeks to have missed the masculine gazes that followed her as she strolled along the decks or entered the dining parlor with her friends or stood at the figurehead with the wind in her hair as she was wont to do. Richard Atkinson had courted her openly since the night Donovan had introduced them.

  He frowned, shifting his stance and clasping his hands tightly behind his back. He was certainly not immune from her charms, that was damn certain. It was those beguiling green eyes of hers. She could enchant anyone with them. She would be an overnight sensation in New York, and he had been troubled of late by the idea of her arriving there alone and vulnerable to the first man who decided he wanted her.

  Gritting his teeth, Donovan chided himself. She was not his responsibility, blast it! She was not really his wife! And she never could be! She was pure poison to him with her kinship to Lord Tyler, but in addition, she was so very young, hardly more than a child, and he had become fond of her, despite his determination not to. Any relationship between them was completely impossible, totally ou
t of the question, and he knew it only too well. For even if she was not involved with her father and his intrigues, she could easily be used by him against Donovan. Other memories came to him, the way her mouth had trembled beneath his lips, the way she had pressed her soft body eagerly against him, all effectively shaking his resolve to keep her at arm's length for the rest of the voyage. He clenched his jaw, fighting his own weakness concerning the girl.

  "Sail ho, lee to starboard, Captain!"

  Donovan jerked his head up at the sound of the lookout's cry, far above him on the mizzenmast, then shielded his eyes from the glittering glare of the sun off the gray-green waves. He scanned the distance for approaching ships, finally picking out several dark specks against the skyline. He looked around for Brace and found that most of the passengers were not aware of the call, their attention riveted on Alysson and Billy Brock in their balcony scene.

  Donovan saw Brace pacing back and forth along the starboard rail, a silver-plated spyglass in his hand, and Donovan walked to his brother's side.

  "Can you see their colors?"

  "Three British warships at full sail,” Brace muttered, lowering the glass and handing it to his brother.

  "Damn,” Donovan muttered as he brought the warships into his sights. “Are you going to outrun them?"

  Brace hesitated, glancing down at the people congregated at midship. “That's what I'd like to do, but if they take chase and fire on us, some of the passengers could be killed or wounded. I can't take such a chance.” Frustration erupted, and Brace rammed one fist into his open palm. “Dammit, Donovan, they have no right to intercept us! By God, I'm going to arm the Halcyone before she sails again. I'm sick of the way the British harass us!"

  Donovan nodded grimly. “It'll end in war and soon. They still treat us like bumbling colonial inferiors, and President Madison and Congress are growing as tired of it as the merchantmen."

  "I relish the thought of sinking a few ships of the pompous bastards,” Brace said through gritted teeth. “Mark my words, someday they'll tremble at the mere mention of the Halcyone."