Kathleen E. Woodiwiss(67)

Listlessly Shanna began to pace her bedchamber, finding any distraction better than surrendering to the fantasies of her mind. Drastic measures would have to be taken to relieve this madness that bound her. She could not sleep. She could not eat. Her life was in a turmoil. Her bedchamber closed around her, and in every corner she heard Ruark’s sardonic laughter and saw his dark, leering face. Retreating from this torture, she fled below, seeking out her father.

Orlan Trahern paused with a spoon of melon halfway to his mouth. It took a fair occurrence to halt him in his affair with food, but the sight of his daughter on this morning did it. Her hair was tousled and tangled, her eyes were red and puffy, her cheeks pale, and she was not dressed and ready to meet the day. It was unheard of that she should appear this early or in this state. The squire returned the spoon untouched to his plate and waited her explanation.

Under her father’s worried frown, Shanna chafed and knew his distress when he laid down the spoon. She realized she was expected to speak, yet words were dear to her, and she found no ready reply to his unspoken question. She oversweetened the cup of tea that was set before her and then winced as its heat stung her tongue.

“I’m sorry, papa,” she began lamely. “I spent an ill night and don’t feel too well even yet. Would it be all right if I don’t go with you today?”

Orlan Trahern lifted his spoon and chewed as he considered her request. “I have grown accustomed to your company of late, my dear. But I surmise that I should not be overly at a loss if you do not attend a day or two. I’ve only been about this business a decade or so.”

He rose and came to feel her brow, finding it a trifle warm to the touch.

“I would be much amiss if you were ailing,” he continued. “Hie yourself to your room and rest for the day. I shall send Berta to see to your wants. There are matters pressing which I must be about. Now come, child, let me see you up.”

“Oh, papa, no!” Shanna could scarce bear the thought of returning. “You need not bother. I’ll have a small bite and go.”

“Nonsense!” he blustered. “I’ll see you abed and tended before I go. Now come.”

Wearily Shanna sighed and took his arm, knowing she had erred, for now she was trapped and would see the day out in her chambers.

Trahern saw his daughter carefully tucked in before he bade her farewell and left. Shanna had no time to rise, for in a moment Berta arrived, greatly concerned for her charge. Shanna’s forehead was felt again, her tongue was checked, and her pulse taken.

“I do not know for sure, but it may be the fever. You feel a liddle varm. I tink a liddle broth und a tea of bay leaves vill do goot.”

Before Shanna could deny any such need, the woman left, bringing back a tray laden with the brew. Shanna shuddered in distaste as she sipped the tea, but the housekeeper would not be put off, and Shanna was ordered to finish it to the last miserable swallow. When finally she was allowed privacy once more, she buried her head beneath her pillow and pounded her fists against the bed in frustration.

“Damned rogue! Damned rogue! Damned rogue!” she whined.

The day aged into evening and still the battle raged. Shanna’s mind was exhausted from the struggle and seemed to lie within her skull without movement, while all the arguments trod the same well-worn paths across it. Reason and the undenied logic of her own motives waned under overwhelming fatigue, while the multitude of threats raised by Ruark’s failure to be hanged properly bludgeoned her until she grew numb beneath their onslaught. Wearily she sagged in a chair and rolled her head against the high back. She knew with certainty that she would not be free of Ruark Beauchamp. With each day he grew bolder, and each time they met he confronted her more openly. There was so little left for her to be proud of in this circumventure of her father’s will. Of all those nearest to her, Pitney was the only one she had not deceived, and the lies did not sit well with her. She had been reared on the truth and taught to face it, and every time she closed her eyes a vision of a dim face behind the barred window of the van tormented her, and her ears rang with the eerie wail in the night. She could no longer bear the struggle. She must free herself from this inner conflict.

With a sob Shanna stumbled to the bed and threw herself upon it. Her groan of despair came muffled against the pillow.

“ ‘Tis done. ’Tis done. I will see the bargain out. I yield.”

Shanna closed her eyes almost fearfully, but only a soft, warm half darkness was there; then sleep drifted like a soundless wave over her, and she was engulfed within its peace.



The Scotswoman, Hergus, was loyal and swift of foot. She led Ruark through the darkness, pausing often to make sure he followed but staying several paces ahead of him, leading him wide around the plantation house then up a narrow path through the trees on the hill behind it. They passed one unused cottage and then another. The lane wandered through a heavy hedge of brush into a small glade. There, in the deep shadows hidden from the moon, was another cottage, larger and more spacious than the others, and here a dim light shone in the windows.