Well after the hour of eleven, when the family began to drift away to their rooms, Shanna rose from the table and said good night to the father and Nathanial, who remained standing near the hearth. Ruark started to get to his feet, but George rested his hand on his shoulder and pressed him back into the chair.
“You were telling me of this stallion, and there is much I would ask. Stay a while.”
Ruark’s gaze followed Shanna out; then the door swung closed behind her. The way was dark for Shanna, lit only by a candle burning on the sideboard in the dining room, and in the hall, the only radiance came from the lantern from the drawing room. There, in the shadows of the foyer, Shanna stood before the small square panes of crystal that composed the larger window, attracted by the sight of the full moon. Its pale light streamed through the half-naked branches of the giant oaks on the front lawn.
The creaking of the kitchen door interrupted her reverie, and Shanna half turned as Nathanial came striding down the hall. The man caught her movement, paused a moment, then came toward her.
“Shanna,” he smiled in the meager light. “I thought you would be in bed by now.”
“I was admiring the view,” she murmured somewhat apologetically.
He peered out the window over the top of her head at the breathtaking scene. “You see with the eye of an artist,” he remarked.
Shanna gave a soft chuckle. “Aye, I’ve wanted to be that, too.”
“Would you care to talk?” he invited.
Shanna leaned against the window frame to further contemplate the wintry night. “About what, sir?”
The answer was slow in coming. “Anything.” He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Whatever would please you.”
“And what do you think would please me?”
“Mister Ruark,” he said softly.
She searched for some hint of displeasure or contempt in his shadowed face, but only a gentle smile met her inquiring eyes.
“I cannot deny it,” she whispered and stared out the window again, twisting the gold band on her finger. “You saw us before. You may not approve, but I love him—and I carry his child.”
“Then why this farce, Shanna?” His voice was low and gentle as he questioned. “Would the truth be so pitiful?”
“We are trapped in it,” she sighed dejectedly. “He cannot claim me for other reasons, and I’ve yet to find a way to set aside my father’s wrath.” She shook her head and stared down at her hands. “I cannot ask your word or vow, for that would make you party to my deceit. I can only depend upon your discretion. The day rapidly approaches when it will all be out.”
A long pause ensued before Nathanial spoke again. “You may rely upon my discretion, Shanna, but there is this that I would say.” He drew a deep breath. “I think the both of you do all of us a grave discredit. Do you see your father as some cruel ogre? Would he punish you for your love? Do you see about you a host of enemies, or would you find naught but friends and allies waiting to help you? ‘Tis a sad report that I and mine would leave a lady in distress and not raise our voices, yea our arms, in her defense. I dare say your father would rise to your defense if you declared your love. Do you think him so doddering with age that he has forgotten the fires of youth? I find Orlan Trahern to be most reasonable, yet he had a spirit of fire of his own.”
Nathanial took several steps toward the stairs and turned back to her again.
“Aye, I think you both do us ill. But I shall await your revelation as you have said, in your own good time.” He held out a hand to her. “Come, Shanna, let me see you to your room. The hour is late.”
He laughed softly, and Shanna felt his good humor infecting her. “I wonder how long either of you can hold your secrets.”
Chapter 26
PALE SUNLIGHT STREAMED IN through filmy underdrapes and warmed the room with its midmorning brightness. In half-awakened pleasure Shanna stirred in the wide bed and lazily opened her eyes. A bit of color beside her on the pillow caught her eye, and she lifted her head to see a single dark red rose on her pillow. She raised the flower and tested its fragrance as she lay back and admired the fragile beauty of it. The thorns had been carefully removed from the long stem.
“Oh, Ruark,” she breathed, smiling.
The impression on the pillow beside her own gave her to know that he had been there beside her in the night. With a low, happy laugh Shanna snuggled the pillow to her breast. But she tossed it wide as a soft rap abruptly sounded on the door. At her call Hergus came in.
“Good morn’n, lass,” the maid greeted cheerfully. “Did ye sleep well?”