Suddenly Shanna felt a strong desire to confront them all with the truth. It nearly burst from her lips as she rose trembling from her chair. She ached to defend her love and her marriage to this bondsman. The only thing that stilled her words was the fear that Gaylord would rush to his magistrate father to bear the news that a man he had condemned to hang was alive. She placed an unsteady hand to her brow.
“Madam Beauchamp, could I lie down for a moment before dinner? I fear the ride exhausted me more than I realized.”
Trahern lowered his glasses, concern obviously written in his countenance. Like a vivacious child, Shanna had always seemed to possess inexhaustible energies. Here, as well, he’d have to readjust his thinking.
Ruark shared his worry and stepped toward Shanna anxiously but abruptly found himself facing Charlotte’s back as she moved into his path. Amelia Beauchamp went to Shanna’s side and took her arm.
“Of course, child,” she soothed. “It has been a long, tiring trip for you. Perhaps you would like to freshen up as well.”
As she passed the bondslave, Amelia paused. “Mister Ruark, would you carry the lady’s cases upstairs? I believe the wagon has arrived.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied respectfully and took his leave.
The stairs led straight up against the wall of the entrance hall, and as Mrs. Beauchamp escorted Shanna up, her dark taffeta gown swishing with her every movement, Ruark came into the house again, carrying a small sea chest on his shoulder and another case beneath his arm. Without a word he mounted the steps behind them and followed on into the bedchamber at the back corner of the house. A fire danced brightly on the hearth like spirited red and gold elves frolicking on a log. There was a warm cheeriness and mannish comfort about the room. A soft, dark Oriental carpet cushioned the feet, and chairs of leather and wood sat about the room. A massive four-poster was spread with a heavy velvet coverlet of a rust hue, and the same material draped the windows.
“This is my son’s room when he’s home,” Mrs. Beauchamp explained, lighting the tapers in a candelabrum. “I didn’t think you would mind using this, as all the other guest rooms will be taken. It does lack something of a women’s touch, I suppose.”
“It’s fine,” Shanna murmured. Her eyes met Ruark’s inquiring gaze as he set her cases down. She flushed and folded her hands in embarrassment as she realized the woman had turned and stood watching them.
“My large trunk. Did you see it, Mister Ruark?” she managed.
“Aye, I’ll go down and get it now.”
“Have David help you bring it up, Mister Ruark,” Amelia suggested.
The door closed behind him, and the elder woman bent to fold down the bedcovers.
“I sent your girl Hergus to bed with a tray. Poor woman, she seemed to have suffered greatly from the ride.”
No doubt, with Gaylord and Ralston sharing the coach, Shanna mused. Aloud she voiced, “She’s never taken well to traveling.”
Idly Shanna thumbed through a leather-bound book on the writing desk which stood beside the back window and then raised a questioning gaze to Mrs. Beauchamp, realizing there was not a single word in it that she could understand.
“Greek. ‘Tis my son’s,” the woman replied, fluffing a pillow. “He was always reading and doing, even as a young lad.”
There was a soft rap on the door, and it was opened to admit Ruark and the tall, rather elderly man in spotless servant’s attire who had let them into the house. Between the two of them, they managed to get Shanna’s huge trunk to the foot of the bed. Even Ruark was panting as he straightened, and he paused to catch his breath, his eyes sparkling at Shanna with silent jest, before he followed David out the door.
Amelia directed her attention back to Shanna, who still stared at the closed portal. “I’ll help you with your gown, child. Would you like a tray to be sent up?”
“Oh, no. I’ll only rest for a while.”
Shanna presented her back to Amelia and stood quietly as the woman unlaced her gown. Stepping out of it, Shanna waited almost timidly in her light chemise as the woman put away the velvet dress.
“Can I fetch a nightgown for you?” the older woman offered kindly. At Shanna’s negative shake of the head, Amelia smiled and walked to the door. “I’ll leave you, then. Have a good rest.”
She opened the door then paused, gazing back over her shoulder at the young and beautiful woman.
“I think if a man can win your father’s approval as Mister Ruark has apparently done, then he’s a man to handle himself whatever’s given to him. I wouldn’t worry, child.”