Kathleen E. Woodiwiss(133)
Gaylord appeared perplexed. “My word, I’ve no thought as to where a man might disappear to, especially on an island like this. Is he inclined to—wander a bit?” At Trahern’s raised brow and Shanna’s questioning stare, he cleared his throat and made his apologies to the latter. “Pardon me, dear lady, for being so bold in your presence. But being a widow yourself, you must be aware that some men enjoy the company of a—ah—lady on occasion. Mayhaps he’s been—ahem—detained.”
Shanna’s cup rattled on the saucer, and she almost spilled the hot liquid over her lap before she managed to reclaim her poise. It was Gaylord’s misfortune that Berta stepped to the door in time to hear this last exchange. She quickly bustled in to give the man a hot retort.
“She be liddle more den a babe, ya lanky galoot, a mere child, and I tank ya to hold dose wile tings to yaself.”
Casually Pitney sipped his toddy and peered at Shanna from under his brow while Gaylord hastened to make humble apologies to both women.
Trahern snorted and ignored Gaylord’s plight. “I give the lad credit for knowing the difference between work and pleasure. I fear some disaster might have befallen him, else he would be here.”
“Aye,” Ralston agreed derisively. “He found himself a tidy hole on that ship that sailed in the night. Why else would it go, leaving like some slinking hound who’s been up to no good? Ye’ll not see Mister Ruark again lest ye set a purse for his return. Then I swear if caught, he should be hanged for an example, or you’ll be having the lot of them trying the same.”
Trahern heaved a heavy sigh. “If he cannot be found, then I must assume he’s gone of his own will. If that be so, I’ll set a purse of fifty pounds for his capture.”
Ralston smirked with his renewed importance and cast a glance toward Shanna. “What do you think, madam? Do you not agree that a treacherous renegade should be hanged for a villain?”
Shanna was stunned, unable to answer. Her thoughts clanged together in confusion. Even in her wildest imagination she had not thought they’d hunt Ruark down like a mad beast. Her eyes caught Pitney’s scowl upon her, ominous and accusing, and she knew not what to reply.
The search for Ruark continued through the afternoon. Shanna retreated to her bedchamber and tried to dismiss the gnawing fears that had begun to plague her. Giving Hergus the excuse of not feeling up to dressing, she sought the comfort of her bed again and attempted to retrieve some hours of the sleep she had missed during the night. Exhaustion finally overcame her racing mind, and she drifted into sweet oblivion. Then dreams began to invade the peace of sleep. She was happy, surrounded by children of varying ages, while she cuddled an infant to her breast. Laughter squealed from the playing youngsters, and a toddler ran between his father’s legs to be swept up into strong arms. Their dark heads came together, and the father became Ruark, laughing as he came to her and bent near to kiss her lips—
Shanna woke with a start, her body clammy with perspiration. It was a lie! She recoiled in sudden sadness. The dream could never be! An oppressive, aching, downtrodden feeling of loneliness assailed her, and she cringed beneath its crushing weight, burying her face in her pillows. Because of her actions she would never see Ruark again, no more know the sweet, caressing warmth of his lips upon hers, nor again be comforted in his protective arms.
It was dark when Hergus came with a tray of food. Shanna hid her swollen eyes and tear-blotched face behind the pages of a book and lamely directed the woman to leave the platter on a table, not even caring to inquire why she had brought it up. The maid, however, offered the information as she peered suspiciously at her young mistress.
“Yer pa said for me to tell ye. Sir Billingsham thought he sighted someone who looked like Mister Ruark in the village, and the squire’s gone to search the town, taking all the men from the island with him to see if Mister Ruark might be found. Why, there ain‘ even one single soul of a man in the house left. Yer pa is mighty determined to catch Mister Ruark if he’s to be caught. I wonder meself where he’s got to.”
Shanna was mute, and the woman finally left, gaining no more information than she had entered with.
For Shanna, time slowed to an agonizing eternity. She could not force herself to take even a small morsel of the food on the tray. She donned a fresh nightshift and belted a light robe over its thin batiste and then sat staring at a book of poetry in her lap. She could not concentrate—in every verse she saw the hero, slender and dark, a half-naked, savage-looking man with amber eyes. With a moan she threw the volume aside and flung herself across the bed to stare moodily across the space of her chamber. Her dainty clock heralded the eleventh hour. Sometime later she heard a noise below and could only reason it was her father returning, in defeat of course. Then her ears caught the sound of shattering glass. Her father in a rage? She could understand that. He had been fond of Ruark. Now, he must imagine that he had been betrayed.