Kathleen E. Woodiwiss(243)

“The vigor of youth,” Trahern sighed and leaned back, bracing his feet upon the opposite seat.

Pitney raised his jug of ale in silent salute. “Best arrive soon,” he mumbled. “There’s only a wee drop left.”

The way was open and the sun warm. The pair left sight of the coaches and were on their own. Where the trail was smooth, they ran far apace, but as the way roughened, they had to slow their mounts to an easy trot. Surreptitiously Shanna gazed at Ruark’s profile. He seemed absorbed in the countryside and studied it as they passed. He rode easily and looked both the part of a gentleman and a woodsman in the soft buckskin breeches and fitted waistcoat, his white linen shirt and tied stock. He was handsome, and her eyes glowed with love and pride as she watched him.



The Beauchamps’ red brick mansion rose immense and tall between oak trees whose trunks would have taken three men to girdle. Shanna stared in amazement, for it was one of the largest homes they had seen since landing. There were wings jutting out on either side, and the main portion had a roof steep and dormered, bracketed with tall chimneys. As they neared the house, excited cries came from within, and in a moment the front door burst open, and a young woman hurried out onto the small portico.

“Mama! Here they come!”

A flood of people swarmed out at the urging, and as Ruark lifted Shanna down from Jezebel’s back, Nathanial descended the steps and came forward to take Shanna’s hand and lead her away from Ruark.

An older couple had come to stand on the lawn and beside them stood a tall, dark-haired woman and a younger boy whose grin nearly split his face.

“My father and mother,” Nathanial announced as he brought Shanna before the elders. “George and Amelia Beauchamp.”

Shanna sank into a respectful curtsy, and as she straightened, the older man smiled down at her, looking her over carefully through wire-rimmed spectacles. A handsome man he was, tall, lean, black of hair, and broad of shoulders, ready with a quick smile.

“So this is Shanna.” There was a note of firmness in the gentle drawl of his deep voice. He nodded in approval. “A pretty lass she is. Aye, we’ll claim her as a Beauchamp.”

The older woman, with brown eyes and gray-streaked auburn air, was more reserved and considered Shanna for a long, uncertain moment before she gave a quick, worried glance at her eldest son. As if with decision, she sighed and took the girl’s hand in both her own.

“Shanna. What a beautiful name.” She searched the sea-green eyes and finally managed a smile. “We’ve much to talk about, my dear.”

Shanna puzzled at the woman’s manner, but she had little time to muse upon it, for Nathanial drew the tall, dark-haired woman to his side.

“My wife, Charlotte, the vixen!” he grinned, slipping an arm about her narrow waist to hug her close. “You’ll meet our brood of children later.”

Charlotte laughed and extended her slender hands toward Shanna. “I fear the name Madam Beauchamp will draw too much attention here—or none as the case may be. May we call you Shanna?”

“Of course.” Shanna was completely taken with the easy friendliness of the woman and accepted the feeling as mutual as the slender fingers squeezed her own.

“Jeremiah Beauchamp.” Nathanial gestured to the grinning lad. “My youngest brother. At seven-and-ten, he’s only just now appreciating the fairer gender, so don’t mind if he gawks a bit. You’re the prettiest thing he’s seen in a long while.”

A dark blush stained the youth’s face but still the grin remained. Like his father, he was tall and reedy but bore the auburn hair and brown eyes of his mother.

“ ‘Tis a pleasure, Jeremiah,” Shanna murmured sweetly, offering her hand.

“And this is my sister, Gabrielle.” Nathanial gently chucked the chin of the girl who had rushed out, and she bobbed vivaciously. “You’ll meet her twin, Garland, later.”

“I think you’re just too beautiful for words,” Gabrielle exclaimed. “Have you really been to Paris? Garland said it must be an evil place. How do you manage to make your hair stay like that? Mine would be down around my shoulders by mid-morning.”

Shanna responded with gay laughter and spread her hands at the rush of questions.

“Gabrielle!” Amelia placed an affectionate arm about the girl. “Let Shanna at least catch her breath.”

“Our son has been remiss in his duties,” George said. “He should have brought you to us long ago.” His face took on a sparkle of humor. “Welcome to The Oaks, Shanna.”

Just then, the two mud-splattered and begrimed coaches careened into the lane and skidded to a stop before the manor. The steeds, sensing an end to the journey and smelling the pastures of home, had outdistanced the heavier wagon, which was nowhere in sight. Ruark threw down the steps of the first and opened the door. Trahern heaved himself from his seat and laboriously climbed down, as Nathanial came forward to greet him. Pitney had also descended and renewed his acquaintance when Sir Gaylord joined the group.