Kathleen E. Woodiwiss(250)

“You have a lovely home, Madam Beauchamp, and a lovely family.”

“Oh, we’ve had many hardships that we might not have faced in England,” Amelia continued. “But I think we’re better people because of the troubles we’ve shared—and stronger, perhaps. I could not abide a foppish son like Gaylord. My own, perhaps, would be out of place at court, but I can vouch for the fact that they are men and do not depend on another’s riches to give them a soft bed. And because I love them, I desire their happiness. ‘Tis only natural for a mother to want the best for her children. So far, they’ve been blessed in finding that one they have needed in this world. God willing, Gabrielle and Jeremiah will do the same.”

Absently Shanna sipped her tea, wondering if Ruark’s mother would accept her with the same warmth and graciousness Amelia displayed toward Charlotte. Charlotte could almost be envied, but then the woman who had raised Ruark had to be someone special, too.

“Are you comfortable in my son’s room?” Amelia inquired softly.

“I feel very much at home there,” Shanna stated truthfully. “And I suppose that in the summer the room is quite cool with that huge tree right out the back to give it shade. Where is your other son?”

“Would you care for more tea, my dear?”

“Only a half cup, please. Thank you.”

“He’s here off and on.”

“I’d like to meet him sometime.”

Amelia glanced at her young guest. “I believe you will, my dear. I believe you will.”



A short time later, Shanna came down the stairs dressed in a deep green velvet riding habit that lent to her eyes a darkness of hue very close to emerald. Gabrielle was just coming in the front door.

“Is there a path where I might ride and not get lost?” Shanna asked.

The woman responded by leading her toward the back of the house. There, they could gaze out from the windows upon the rolling hills that rose beyond their place.

“There’s a trail that leads up to the high valley by that big oak.” Being a little taller, Gabrielle gazed down at Shanna and added casually with a half shrug, “You’ll probably see Mister Ruark up there with Jeremiah.”



Shanna relaxed into the rhythm of Jezebel’s gait and felt the exhilarating breeze as the tawny grass raced by beneath the horse’s hooves. The wind whipped at the curved plume of her velvet riding cap, and in the sheer joy of the moment Shanna shook out the reins. The mount responded to her urging and stretched out, seeming almost to take flight. It was familiar ground Jezebel roamed, and she raced on. Shanna let her run until they had passed the large oak and entered the forest on an overgrown wagon trail. Here, she reined down to a saner pace.

The air was cool, but the sun was high, and there was a feeling of chaste virginity in this wilderness. Shanna caught a glimpse of a doe passing in the dark, mottled shadows. Then the trail began to climb. High hills rose on either side, and the track skirted a low bluff. On rounding it Shanna gave a gasp of amazement and halted the mare.

A wide valley spread out before her, fertile and rich like a precious gem. Down the center of the vale, a chain of small ponds shone bright blue beneath the brilliant sky, fed by a tumbling waterfall that spilled down a cliff through glistening rainbows round about its feet. Beyond the ponds, beneath the high branches of a stand of pines, stood a small hut of simple and crude construction, and from its chimney a thin wreath of smoke curled into the air.

Shanna noted the tracks of several horses, and she urged Jezebel on faster, past a bunch of willows, to splash across a small, clear stream and then onto the ground that rose to the cabin. The door stood ajar, and an ax lay amid a pile of new chips. Beyond the cabin a rail fence surrounded a pasture in which grazed a sizable herd of horses that rivaled in grace and beauty the one that she rode. Restlessly Jezebel pawed at the thick matting of grass beneath her hooves as Shanna held the reins tight in her gloved hand, gazing out across the beauty of the peaceful valley.

A small sound came from behind her, and Shanna turned the mare to find Ruark leaning his long rifle against a stump. Grinning, he came to lift her from the back of the horse.

“How did you know where I was?”

She smiled up into his eyes as he stood her on the ground. “Gabrielle told me.”

His hands caressed the velvet along her ribs. “I’m glad.”

He bent, and his mouth covered hers in a long, searing kiss of welcome. Shanna sighed contentedly, nestling against his leather jerkin as his arms folded about her. But then she remembered her business there.

“Hanging Harry is in Williamsburg,” she murmured, slipping her own arms around him and leaning back to meet his gaze.