Her face paled, and he was sorry; but he could take no risks. She lowered her head. “Go! You know I will not risk more lives!”
For a brief moment he continued to watch her, but she would not look at him. He turned and quit the cabin for the deck.
***
An hour later things were going well beyond all expectation in Upsinwich. They’d been welcomed by the workmen at the docks so enthusiastically that he’d felt no apprehension when he was invited to the home of the lord mayor.
The man was a firm member of the Church of England, and Upsinwich proved to be not only a Puritan stronghold, but that strange place, wonder of wonders, where all sects were living in tolerance and peace. By law a Puritan could not hold Lord Patterson’s office, yet Lord Patterson seemed beloved by all, if the cheerful words of the dockhands were any true indication of town affairs.
They were barely docked when Sloan received an invitation from Lord Patterson requesting they meet for lunch in a public tavern near theSea Hawk. Barely had Sloan sat down before the lord mayor was lowering his voice to say that he was quite certain his people were expecting the Prince of Orange any day—and would welcome his arrival. But Sloan could give scant attention to Lord Patterson, because Brianna had not come with him, and he could think of nothing but her.
Ah! Not long ago, politics had filled his thoughts. He had been eager for Holland to bring William and Mary to the throne and to see James brought low for his crime of murder. Still he would fight; aye, if Princess Mary and William needed battle, he would gladly go into battle for them. But he did not feel the tearing sense of revenge that had once been his. For all of the tempest between them, Brianna had given him a sense of peace. He wanted her to be most important in his life, to rule his every move.
He was so very afraid. He had never meant to hide his marital status from her. He had told her that he could not marry her and he didn’t know that she was dreaming of being his wife. Perhaps it was saddest of all that she seemed to understand about Alwyn. She had not demanded that he seek an annulment or a divorce, and she would never—as his London mistress, Joan, had once done—suggest that Alwyn might be hurried from this life. Nay, Brianna would never do such a thing, because she had learned the wonder of life.
He sighed, though, unable to cease his brooding. She had accepted his situation, and she had promised not to attempt to escape. But he had wrung that promise from her cruelly, and he did not know if she had decided to accept him.
“My Lord Treveryan!”
Startled, Sloan gave his full attention to the jovial, red-cheeked man before him. Patterson was short and squat with twinkling blue eyes, but gave the appearance nevertheless that he would be a determined adversary if crossed.
“Your pardon, sir!” Sloan said apologetically.
“Ahh, no pardon needed, sir!” Patterson replied, raising his tankard of ale. “I know you’ve grave matters of state on your mind! I was saying that the men have promised to give yourSea Hawktheir most fervent attention. I assure you that no one will come near the town without your knowledge.”
“I thank you, sir. But what if you are challenged for harboring outlaws before William arrives?”
Patterson chuckled. “Challenged? But how, sir? I’m a busy man. How would I know what ships come to port? This is England! We have our freedoms, sir.”
Sloan chuckled and drank his ale, first lifting his tankard high to Lord Patterson. But for his life he could not keep his mind fully upon the conversation—brooding came to him today as naturally as breathing.
Brianna spent the first hours he had gone, sitting upon the bed. She tried to think and reason, but she could not. All she could do was sit, and feel the dull pain in her heart.
Ah! If only she could hate him! But she believed every word, and her heart and soul ached for all of them. Poor Alwyn, stripped of her child and mind. Poor Sloan, caring for her, denied both the heir he surely craved, and perhaps the possibility finally, truly, of finding love. She could picture his Alwyn, pale and frail, seeking only the company and solace of her birds!
Nay, never could she deny she loved him still. Perhaps she loved him more. But could she stay with him? She trembled slightly, sitting there. She knew that, for him, it was all quite simple and easy. To the eyes of Lord Treveryan there was no hardship in being his mistress. But try as she might, Brianna could never forget that he had a wife. And he was, like all men, a fool. He thought that he could protect her from scandal. He did not realize that she would never be accepted in his world. That should she conceive, their child would be an outcast—shunned, just as his dear friend Jemmie had been shunned. Even King Charles had not been able to protect his son, and Sloan was not a king.
She sighed and began to pace the cabin, barely aware, as she passed back and forth, that she was lovingly touching things. His desk, the bottle of dark rum upon it, the chair behind it. The bedding, the pillows, they had shared.
She did have to leave him. Not as she did in Port Quinby—never would she risk others’ lives again. But there had to be a way, and tomorrow she would find it. She sat down again, shaking—and weakening. Leaving him would be like cutting out her heart. It would be so much easier to stay.…
But, dear God, what would happen if he ceased to love her? If the strain of all that lay between them ate at their love until there was nothing left but bitterness? That would be far worse than going now, when at least she could cherish the memory forever.
Paddy had come to tell her that theSea Hawkwould remain in Upsinwich for at least two days. Since it was a Puritan community, perhaps she could find word of the Powells—and, with them, a firm bulwark. Not against Sloan’s strength—against his love.
But that would be tomorrow. Tonight, tonight she could not leave him. She wanted to hold him and cherish him and give him all her love—one last time.
***
Sloan didn’t know what to expect when he returned to the ship. And so he paused outside his cabin door with his heart pounding, his head reeling. He was so afraid she would be gone.
When at last he opened the door, the cabin was dark. Then slowly he realized that a single small candle was burning upon his desk. He stood still, blinking to adjust to the muted light. His heart rose to his throat in anguish; she wasn’t there.
But then he heard a slight rustling sound from the bed; his fingers, upon the door, began to tremble. He heard her voice, as soft as the muted candle glow, as sweetly welcoming.
“Close the door, My Lord Treveryan.”
He did so, leaning against it, finding that the trembling had spread from his hands to his limbs. He blinked once more, and then he could see her clearly, slowly unwinding her slender body from her curled position on the bed. Her only garment was the sheer white thin shift which barely hid her slender curves. As she walked toward him, he knew he had never seen such a heavenly vision. Her hair was a regal display of gleaming black, curled and waved over her shoulders, playing provocatively over her breasts. Through the gossamer fabric he could see the sway of her hips, the beautiful clean line of her legs, and the fascination of all the secrets in between.
