It was a crowning achievement. That which would have taken a score of men most of the afternoon had been done in the time it might take one to sip a cup of tea. A loud, boisterous shout of approval rang from the onlookers. Even Ruark smiled, until Sir Gaylord crossed the platform, stepping between him and Shanna, and took her outstretched hand.
Since the mill was something entirely new to the island, the villagers were allowed to view the interior for themselves now that the actual crushing of the harvested cane had been demonstrated. For many weeks the townsfolk had wondered at this thing being constructed in the hills above their hamlet and now, at long last, their curiosity was to be appeased. They were filled with awe at the ingenuity which had brought it into being, and more than a few were somewhat contrite, because they had once slapped their thighs in uproarious disbelief when informed that the production of the mill was limited only by the speed with which the cane could be dumped into the hopper and that what had been a long tedious month of backbreaking labor could now be handled between Sabbaths.
“May I escort you within, Madam Beauchamp?” Sir Gaylord requested. “I’ve a bit of curiosity about the thing myself. Must have been an Englishman who brought the idea into being.
Shanna smiled in amusement, recognizing the typical English mind. If it was good, it had to be English.
“I’ve already been given a most splendid tour of the place by our bondsman, Sir Gaylord. I’m sure Mister Ruark will be interested in your deduction, but he’s from the colonies, not England as you surmised.”
“Egad! You don’t say he was the one—” Gaylord was clearly astonished. With arrogant poise he sniffed lightly, against his handkerchief. “Ah, well, for a simple brew I suppose one might rely upon some basic common knowledge in the building of a brewing house. Myself, I cannot abide the stuff. I prefer a good wine to that beastly concoction. No gentleman’s brew.”
Shanna smiled like a cat that had just ensnared a rat. “I must inform my father of your findings, sir. Actually, he finds the drink quite tasty.”
Sir Gaylord folded his large hands behind his back and appeared to grow museful. “Perhaps your father would be interested in a more sound investment, Madam Beauchamp. My family has acquired a shipyard in Plymouth, very promising ‘tis, and with your father’s wealth—”
Again the knight blundered like so many others before him, but Sir Gaylord hardly realized what lay behind Shanna’s sidelong glance. Instead, he had suddenly become fascinated with the advantage his height gave him. Standing head and shoulders above Shanna, he had a very pleasurable view of what lay beneath her demure bodice whenever he chanced to look that way, which now was rather often. The higher swell of her creamy breasts was a tantalizing sight for any man, and Sir Gaylord most certainly enjoyed this treat.
Seeing where the knight’s perusal wandered, Ruark was anything but jovial. He hid his churning anger behind a brimming tankard of ale, tipping the mug and drinking the fluid down until the last drop was tasted. After witnessing this feat, Shanna peered at him questioningly, but Sir Gaylord moved between them again, taking her arm. Bending low over her with some inane comment, he casually led her away from Ruark’s presence.
Ruark had no time to react, for his own arm was seized in Trahern’s huge paw. As he was tugged along, he heard a flow of eager words begin with:
“Now as to the sawmill. When do you think—”
Ruark was unaware of what he replied, for in his memory the rest of the conversation was covered by an angry haze through which he saw only the back of the swaggering Sir Gaylord.
Trahern left him as a train of wagons arrived from the manor. The squire’s flock of servants spilled out of the conveyances and began to set up a long row of tables which were quickly covered with hogsheads of ales and beers and smaller kegs of selected wines, sweet and dry, red and white. A last cart was opened and still-steaming sides of lamb, roast pig, fowl of all sorts, and seafood were all laid out with a vast assortment of delicate sauces to complement the meats and to tease the palate. The ladies of the island brought forth their own preparations to add to the feast. As Shanna led Sir Gaylord to inspect the dishes, he spread his hands in surrender and chortled lightly.
“Gracious, I am overwhelmed by this abundance on such a tiny island. Why, surely this must rival the outings in England of my own good kinfolk.”
He missed the glare of several ladies and took Shanna’s amused smile as encouragement. Trahern had come upon them in time to catch his last statement and hastened to offset the error of his remark.
“Ah, Sir Gaylord, ‘tis only that you have not tasted this magnificent fare the ladies have contributed, else you would agree that in all the world no simple outing could rival this one.”