Kathleen E. Woodiwiss(88)

Part of Shanna’s mind followed Ruark’s words while the rest of her attention centered on the man. Here, she thought, he was in his element. His voice bore an edge of authority, and his manner was sure and confident. He stood out on a beam barely wide enough for his foot and strode casually to the middle of it as he explained and pointed out the workings of the mill. From every angle, Shanna saw him: from behind as he preceded her along a narrow walk, from above as he reached up to lift her down an unfinished flight of stairs, from the side as he swept his arm outward to show her the easy simplicity of his plan, from below as he climbed up a ladder to a lofty platform high above the works.

Silently Shanna followed him, sensing the pride he took in his labors. It came to her that he was a man who did not know how to do less than his best. He committed himself to every goal and pursued it to an exacting end. Her wonder grew as she studied him, and her curiosity grew apace.

Surely there is more to him, she mused, than a simple bondslave. The answer came of its own accord in her mind. Of course, she had always known that. He never was a slave to any man, nor, for that matter, to any woman.

Shanna’s mien grew thoughtful. She tried to imagine what kind of home gave birth to a man such as he and what sort of a hand had nurtured him.

Ruark’s soft chuckle shattered her imaginings, and Shanna looked at him questioningly. His eyes were on her, and they twinkled with tiny golden lights of amusement.

“I fear I’ve been too detailed in my tour.” His smile was only slightly apologetic. “But at least you will be able to answer any questions one might ask of the mill.”

“I’ve seen parts of the mill before and listened to others describe it. ‘Tis truly a marvel.”

Shanna leaned back against a timber as much to steady herself, for the height was dizzying, as to brace her mind, because the door she was about to open with her words might hide many sorts of spectres.

“And what do I answer when people ask me of you, John Ruark?” She plunged on, though his brow raised at her change of topic. “I know so little of you. What of your family? You spoke of your father this morn. Does he know of that affair in London?”

“I hope not. Nay, I pray not.” Ruark stared into the distance, his countenance troubled. “His strength would be sorely tested if those rumors reached his ears and he thought me dead. Would that I could spare him that.”

“What of your mother?” Shanna persisted. “Do you have brothers? Sisters? You have made no mention of them.”

Ruark faced her with a smile threatening at the corners of his lips. “How can I boast of them, Shanna, when the lot of us are only cloddish colonials?”

Shanna took the chide in stride and despaired of gaining more knowledge of him. Wistfully she moved her gaze outward to the green-swathed hills that shouldered around, closing in the mill site. A blue haze hung on them as a cloud thrust deliberate billows upward as if drawing in its breath repeatedly and expanding itself until it could exhale all in a sudden storm. A pair of sea eagles wheeled in wide circles beneath the clouds, riding upward on the currents of air until they entered the white mists. A few moments later they plunged out with folded wings on the other side of the hill. They seemed to play at the game of riding the cyclone currents of the storm until they were hurled free of it.

With a gay laugh Shanna turned to bring Ruark’s notice to the strange antics of the birds but found his attention boldly measuring her softer parts. When she had relaxed against the timber, she had presented him a daring profile of her round bosom straining against the cloth of her bodice. And Ruark was a man to enjoy all sights, though of late he was bent to limit his observations to Shanna whenever she was around.

Immediately Shanna straightened herself and faced him squarely, waiting until his gaze rose to meet hers. Even in church that morning, she had felt herself the prey of that hawkish stare.

“Your eyes betray the path of your mind,” Shanna accused him brusquely. “ ‘Tis rude to stare so openly, and most slanderous to do so in church.”

“I was but admiring you.” The amber eyes glowed, and his grin was almost taunting. “You were the most beautiful woman I saw there, and like most of the other men I was but admiring beauty.”

“You are more bold than others,” she scolded. “I feel ravished every time you look at me.”

Ruark’s grin grew almost into a leer. “You read my thoughts too well, madam. Frequently I have fantasies of you naked in my arms.”

“You’re a rogue! A lewd, evil-minded rogue!” Shanna cried, her cheeks flushed and hot. “I despair of what will come from all this. And what if I’m with child? ‘Twould be disastrous!”