Chapter Twenty
Snug and content, Sarah counted the deep, resonant chimes from the hall clock, but as the eighth chime echoed through the house she jerked upright, and her eyes darted about the darkened room in confusion.
A hand glided up her bare spine and gently kneaded the back of her neck. "Is something amiss?" Nick's deep rich voice turned her flesh to jelly.
Clutching the blanket to her chest, Sarah looked back at him. His head still rested on the pillow they had shared and his smile was doing strange things to her insides.
" 'Tis eight o'clock," she gasped, noticing for the first time how effective the heavy draperies were at blocking the sunlight.
"Yes, I imagine it is."His hand smoothed down the tangles of her hair, luxuriating in the heavy weight of it and the glimpse of porcelain flesh it revealed.
"But we're still in bed." Her voice held disbelief, and his smile deepened.
"We certainly are." Tugging her hair gently, Nick pulled until she flopped back to her place on his shoulder, her soft curves molding perfectly to the hard planes of his body.
"Nick . . ." Her hand rested on his heart and her voice was a velvet purr. " 'Tis way past morning. We can't stay in bed. There is too much to do."
Nick tipped her face up for his kiss. "You are right, as usual." His touch was feather-light as he traced the soft fullness of her lips, then his mouth closed hungrily over hers. Their legs entwined, caressing, enticing, and heartbeats grew faster. "As for me," he nibbled her bottom lip. "I think I shall start right here."
Sarah pressed closer to the heat of his body. "I think it's going to be a long morning," she sighed against his throat as he stoked the flames of passion higher.
Nick flipped them both over and saw the undisguised love that filled her violet eyes. "A very, very long morning." Then capturing her lips, he sealed his promise.
Sarah floated down the stairs in a ray of sunlight to find Wadsworth standing at the bottom.
"Mr. Beaumont is waiting for you in the dining room, miss." The butler's tone was formal, but the knowing smile in his eyes undid her. Despite her resolve, Sarah felt her cheeks grow hot.
"Thank you, Wadsworth," she stammered, trying to hide her discomfort.
"And, Miss Sarah . . ." She watched in amazement as his rigid face broke into a rich smile. "Might I say how glad we all are to have you home again?"
Embarrassment drained away to be instantly replaced with deep contentment. "Thank you, Wadsworth." Her voice was filled with gratitude. "It truly does feel like home."
Still smiling Sarah joined Nick in the dining room. The warmth in his eyes echoed in his voice.
"Did you sleep well?" he asked, grinning.
The rosy blush on her cheeks turned a darker hue, but her eyes met his squarely. " 'Twas the best night abed I've had in weeks." She moved to her chair and smiled over her shoulder. "And I hope to repeat it often."
Nick's rich laughter filled the dining room. How she had changed, he mused. Her polite reserve had all but vanished and the bewitching smiles she sent his way were making his blood boil.
Although the hands of the clock had long passed noon, they had yet to finish their meal when Wadsworth entered.
"Sir, Mr. Webster has arrived."
Reluctantly Nick wiped his mouth, then tossed his napkin on the table. "Show the man to my study and offer him some refreshment, Wadsworth. You can say that I'll be along directly." He reached for Sarah's hand, letting his thumb rub against the sensitive flesh of her inner wrist. "Webster has brought Gran's will," he explained. "I already know the contents, so this is just a formality that I thought best to have over and done with." Nick rose and helped Sarah from her chair. "I shouldn't be long. Why don't you wait for me in the garden?"
Sarah smiled and, checking to be sure the butler was no longer about, rose up on her tiptoes to lace a fleeting kiss against his lips.
Nick sighed in frustration as his arm clamped about her waist. "Did I teach you nothing last night?That was not a kiss. This is a kiss." His hand cradled the back of her head, and his lips stole the very breath from her body. Both were shaken when it ended. Sarah kept her arms locked around his neck, and her eyes sparkled with mischief.
"I think I need more practice," she whispered. "Sometimes, when I'm slow to catch on, it helps if I do it over and over until I get it right."
Nick eased her from his arms, knowing if he did not do so immediately, he'd carry her off to his room again. "You're a temptress, Miss Townsend. Get thee to the garden before I toss up your skirts and take you here and now."
Sarah sidestepped quickly from his reach and laughed with pleasure. "Don't be too long."
Nick entered his study and his good mood fled. Mangus Webster stood deep in conversation with Michael Danvers. "What the devil are you doing here?" Nick snapped at Danvers. "You no longer have any business with either my company or myself."
"Nick . . ." Mangus hastily stepped forward and extended his hand. "Danvers is here because I asked him to be. It seems there is a new version of your grandmother's will."
Nick's eyes mirrored his displeasure as he sat behind his desk and motioned for the attorneys to be seated. "Now, just what is this ridiculous story of yours, Danvers?"
Sarah strolled the well-tended paths that wound behind the house. The roses swayed softly in the gentle breeze, lending their fragrance to nature's heady perfume. She took the clippers from her basket and plucked several tight buds of the palest pink. Surrounded by the delicate baby's breath that already filled her basket, she thought they would be the perfect complement for the black vase that stood in the hall. But as she turned to retrace her steps to the house, the wind tugged at her skirts and she looked up to find the sky full of angry black clouds.
"Miss Sarah!" Wadsworth waved to catch her attention, then holding his coat against the growing wind, quickly covered the path to reach her. "Mr. Beaumont wishes you to join him in the study if you would." He took the basket of flowers from her arm and scowled at the darkening sky.
Sarah clutched at her skirts as the wind plastered them to her legs. "I think we're in for a good dousing." Her words were punctuated by fat raindrops that dotted the brick path. Running the last few steps, she and the aging butler reached the back porch just as the sky opened in earnest. Sarah laughed and shook the moisture from her hair. "Oh, Wadsworth," she sighed. "Don't you just love the fresh smell of a summer rain?"
But Wadsworth wasn't smiling. " 'Taint no ordinary rain, Miss Sarah. Look . . ." His thin arm raised and pointed toward the carriage house. Above the roof hung the blackest clouds Sarah had ever seen. Wadsworth set down the basket of flowers. "I don't know why," he said, "But whenever the storm comes from that direction," he nodded toward the back of the property, "It's a fierce one. And the way it came up so sudden like, I'll wager more than a few shingles will be missing by morning."
Sarah shivered, for the wind now carried a sharp bite, and the image of Gracie Richardson's dilapidated shack had sprung to mind. She doubted it could withstand much abuse from the weather. The rains came harder, and within seconds the carriage house was obliterated from view.
"I'd better see to the upstairs windows." Wadsworth pulled open the back door. "And Mr. Beaumont is waiting for you in the study."
She nodded and picked up her basket but made no move to join him in the doorway. "You go on, I'll just be a minute." Sarah turned her attention back to the growing storm and took a deep breath of the moisture-filled air. It was alive with energy, she could feel it in her bones. The hair on her arms prickled and she felt the power of nature close at hand.
"In truth we do need the rain, Father," she whispered. "But I think this might be a tad too much." Lightning flashed, filling the darkened sky with terror, and Sarah jumped and laughed with a start as thunder crashed around her. "Send as much rain as you wish," she shouted above the howling wind. "Just don't be angry when it's not appreciated."
Slipping into the house, Sarah tidied her hair, but avoided the
looking glass in the hallway. She knocked lightly then entered the study as the three men rose to greet her.
She smiled, crossing the room to the attorney with her hand extended. "Mr. Danvers, how nice to see you again," she said.
The man's expression was more smirk than smile and, releasing his hand, Sarah turned to Nick. " 'Tis raining something fierce. You wished to see me?"
Nick's eyes had grown as dark as the storm-filled sky, but he gestured for her to sit. "This is Mangus Webster, my attorney. It seems you already know Danvers. He is an acquaintance of yours?"
Sarah's brow wrinkled in confusion at the tone in his voice. She took a chair on the opposite side of the desk. "We met here in this very room. Do you not remember?"
" 'Tis of no importance," Nick brushed her words aside, and turned to the older attorney. "She's here now, Webster, so let's get on with it."
Mangus Webster straightened his crimson waistcoat over his wide belly and stood. Wire-rimmed glasses perched low on his nose, and his wig was elaborate with chestnut curls that fell in great coils about his shoulders. "I understand you spent a great deal of time with Mrs. Beaumont before she died. Is that correct?"
Sarah turned to Nick but found him scowling at Danvers, who leaned insolently against the mantel. "That's right," she said, returning her gaze to Webster. "I lived with Mrs. Beaumont for several weeks."
"And are you aware that Mrs. Beaumont wrote a codicil to her existing will?"
"No," Sarah said, shifting nervously. She could feel Nick's impatience from across the room.
Danvers straightened and withdrew a folded document from his coat pocket. As his voice droned on, Sarah's eyes moved from man to man. Webster paced nervously, and, despite the chill that had claimed the room, wiped perspiration from his ruddy forehead. Danvers, who stood by the cold fireplace as he read, resembled a fox amid a flock of sheep. Only Nick seemed completely unmoved by his grandmother's newest edict. Reclined in his chair, his chin rested on steepled fingers.
Lightning flashed, followed by an ominous roll of thunder, and Sarah felt the house absorb the impact of the storm. Suddenly she remembered all too clearly the first night she had been in the room . . . cold, soaked, petrified. Her skin turned clammy, and she wished the men would leave so she could return to the security of Nick's arms. She suppressed a shiver, and clenched her hands tightly together in her lap. Perhaps Wadsworth would take it into his head to serve hot cider and not that vile dark coffee Nick was so fond of.
"So you see," Danvers taunted. "Your grandmother left you not a penny. I guess the old woman just didn't like you, Beaumont."
Sarah heard only the last sentence and her eyes flashed with anger. "How dare you make such a statement?" she snapped.
Nick's smile turned dangerous. He rose to his feet and gained the satisfaction of watching Danvers hastily step backward. "It's all right Sarah," Nick said, his voice held none of the tension that coursed through his veins.
"So you can see, Miss Townsend," Webster cleared his voice, "you are a very wealthy woman."
Sarah's eyes flashed with impatience. "Whatever do you mean?"
"You now own all of Mrs. Agatha Beaumont's possessions," Danvers sneered, looking at Nick. "As of this moment you own half of Beaumont Shipping."
Sarah flopped back on her chair as the strength of her anger drained away. "I don't believe it. What cruel hoax are you trying to play –"
"It is no hoax," Webster interrupted. "I've checked the signatures. This document is completely in order."
"But Beaumont Shipping belongs to Mr. Beaumont," Sarah said.
Nick circled the desk and took her hand in his. "And will again, darling," he said smoothly. "As soon as we are married, the business will revert back to me."
Sarah felt her heart beat so loudly she wondered if the others could hear. "Married?" she stammered, almost afraid to hope for such a miracle.
"Married?" Danvers gasped. He had known the will stipulated marriage in order for Nick to reclaim the business, but he had hoped for more outrage. Surely the man wasn't going to let himself become shackled to an indentured servant. Where was the anger at being so manipulated? Beaumont's temper was legendary, yet now he blithely accepted marriage to a servant. Disappointment marred Danvers's features as he watched Webster refold the document.
"Married," Nick said pleasantly. "Today, if possible. Mangus, do you think you could get a special dispensation that would allow us to forgo the posting of banns?"
Relieved that Nick had accepted the news so well, the older attorney cleared his throat. Nick had a nasty temper that he himself had witnessed on more than one occasion, and he in no way wanted it turned in his direction. "A good attorney always tries to anticipate his clients' needs, Mr. Beaumont. And when I learned of the new will this morning, I took it upon myself to speak with both the magistrates and the minister. The courts are aware of your fine standing in the community and the reverend Jeffers was also more than willing to comply. If you wish, I can arrange for the ceremony to take place at my office this evening."
Nick nodded. "Do it then."
"Nick," Sarah gasped. "You truly want to marry me?"
His smile was dark and sensuous. "Don't you think that we should after . . ." His voice trailed off and he watched her cheeks turn pink.
"I love you," she said softly, not caring that two others were witness to her declaration.
Nick brushed a fleeting kiss against her forehead. "And within just a few hours, you are going to be my wife."
"Gentlemen." His arm remained possessively clamped around Sarah's waist. "As you can see, both the lady and I are more than ready. So Webster, if you would see to the arrangements I would appreciate your haste in the matter."
Webster beamed. "It shall be done immediately. And may I be the first to offer my congratulations?"
"Just see to it," Nick said pleasantly.
Sarah watched in amazement as Danvers's smile fled. "You would really marry her?" he questioned.
"Without a second's hesitation," Nick declared solemnly.
Danvers's eyes glinted with frustration. "Then you will have fulfilled the conditions of the codicil and after the ceremony, Beaumont Shipping will belong to you again."
Nick released his grip on Sarah and moved to open the door. "There was never any doubt in my mind. Gentlemen, I bid you a good day," he replied easily as the attorneys departed.
For Sarah, the afternoon passed in a haze. Nick had offered to send for Charlotte, but her conscience would not allow it. The storm was too fierce to make Charlotte venture out for the sake of a new dress. Giving a shrug of his shoulders, Nick had offered no other suggestions, but closeted himself in his study declaring he had much that demanded his attention.
Sarah bathed, then stood in her shift as she pondered what to wear to her wedding. Her nerves jangled and her fingers trembled as she contemplated the possibilities. The sapphire gown she had worn to Julie Carlson's wedding seemed the perfect choice, but it, along with the rest of her clothing, was still at Agatha's. Rain beat in torrents against her window, and Sarah knew she could not ask one of the servants to fetch it for her. Besides, she thought, mourning for Agatha dictated she wear black.
Pushing aside her disappointment, Sarah quickly donned her black velvet skirt and jacket. "I'm getting married," she hummed, to restore her good mood. Nick's bracelet slipped around her wrist and for the first time she didn't tuck it under her sleeve. She brushed her hair until it glistened in the candlelight, then perched on the corner of her bed to wait.
Sarah clung to the window strap to brace herself as the carriage bumped down the road toward home. Rain continued to drench the countryside making the roads slick and travel difficult. How strange, she thought as the carriage tipped and swayed. There had been no guests, only Webster and his wife and Michael Danvers to act as witnesses. The minister had read his piece and she and Nick had repeated their vows. A plain gold band was slipped on her finger, then it was over. There was no wedding supper to s
hare in camaraderie with friends, or even a cake to mark the occasion. They had signed the minister's documents and then, after hasty words of congratulations, Nick had bustled her back into the carriage.
In the faint light of the lantern, Sarah could see his features as he sat opposite her on the seat. His arms were folded over his chest and his smile had long since disappeared. She ached to crawl onto his lap and share his warmth, for she felt chilled to the bone. But he made no overtures and she was suddenly too shy to initiate them. This isn't the way it's supposed to be, she thought desperately as the carriage pulled to a stop.
Nick swung the carriage door open and stepped out then turned back to help her descend.
Sarah frowned with confusion as she looked up through the rain, for they stood at Agatha's front door.
"Why did we stop here?" She turned to Nick and found his features contorted with black rage. "What is wrong?"
Nick pulled his arm from her touch with a vicious jerk. "I thought you would like to spend the night in your new house. You certainly worked hard enough for it."
"What?" Sarah cried suddenly afraid as he towered over her.
Nick threw back his head and laughed ironically at the sky. Rain beat against his skin, and he reveled in the sting of it. "You got what you wanted," he shouted. "You wanted security, and you have it. Consider my grandmother's house yours. But as for me, and future funds, I'm afraid you and Danvers calculated wrongly. "You'll carry my name," he taunted, "but you'll not get so much as a good day from me in the future. And if you know what is good for you, I advise you to stay out of my sight."
Nick turned to go, but Sarah grabbed his arm. "I do not understand," she said, her voice quaking with fear. "It was your wish to be married."
Nick gave her a hard, appraising stare meant to humiliate, and it did. "A man will do a lot to get back what is his," he said quietly. "As to love, I think not. Get your friend Danvers to share your bed and keep you warm. You two deserve each other." His voice echoed his disgust.
"But I don't even know the man," Sarah cried as her tears mixed with the rain to wash down her face. "Why are you saying this?"
Nick reached into the carriage and plucked a thick gray envelope from the floor. "Here. He gave you this right after the ceremony. Did you think I didn't notice?" He jammed the paper into her hand. "We wouldn't want you to lose it. It might contain the time and place for your next meeting."
Sarah clutched the envelope and felt a sickening dread wash over her. "You don't love me? Her voice was barely a whisper, but Nick heard and shook his head.
"Did I ever say I did?" He watched her face pale. "I like my women to be women," his tone was insulting. "And I prefer experience to the fumbling of the inadequate."
"Then why did you take me?" came her anguished wail.
Nick shrugged and turned back to the carriage. "Because you offered," he replied easily. "What man wouldn't?" Then he was in the carriage and the door closed behind him.
Numb with shock, Sarah stood in the pouring rain until the carriage was out of sight, then, falling to her knees, she retched. An hour later, Luther found her huddled on the front step soaked to the skin and colder than ice. Her lips were blue and her eyes were wide and haunted. He tried to help her into the house, but it was difficult, for Sarah refused to allow anyone to get near to her.
Luther himself braved the storm to fetch Master Nick, but when he returned, he was alone. In strained silence Agatha's servants watched Sarah huddle in a corner. Through gentle coaxing they had convinced her to pull a blanket about her shoulder. But they could only stand by and watch as great tremors consumed her body.
The news spread quickly through the household. Miss Agatha had left all her money to Miss Sarah, and Master Nick had married her to get it back. They watched until Sarah finally collapsed completely, then it was Luther who gently carried her up to bed and Mrs. Hempsted who eased her out of her wet clothing.
"Something's not right here," Luther sighed as they closed the door to Sarah's room, leaving Tanzy to sit with her.
"I just can't imagine Master Nick doing something like this." Mrs. Hempsted's voice was thick with tears as they descended the stairs. "Doesn't he know how good she was to Miss Agatha?"
"I tried to tell him" Luther shook his head. "But all he's say was Miss Sarah owned this house now and he wanted no more to do with her."
"But he married her!"
Luther's tired head nodded. "That he did. But he sure don't want to see her."
"Luther, why do you think Miz Agatha did such a fool thing?"
Luther threaded his fingers through his wiry hair. "I sure don't know. I knew when she started having that Danvers person come to call she was up to no good. But I just can't believe that after all Miss Sarah did for her, she would wish her such heartache."
Mrs. Hempsted paused at the bottom step. "Once, when I was a young girl, I saw a master take after a slave with his whip. He like to slice the poor fool's skin clean off." She paused to look back up the stairs. "But you know, I still don't think I've ever seen a body hurt worse than Miss Sarah."
Luther placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and heaved another great sigh. "Miss Sarah is stronger than she looks. Maybe tomorrow when the storm is gone, things will seem brighter."
Lightning flashed and the house trembled in protest as the thunder crashed around them. Mrs. Hempsted shivered and, holding a hand to protect the candle's flame, turned to Luther. "Mayhap I should go back up and sit with her. There's no telling what she'll be like if the storm wakes her."
"Tanzy is with her."
"Tanzy is a sweet child, Luther, but she's got the sense of a nanny goat."
"Then we'll both sit with her." Lightning filled the foyer with its eerie light and Mrs. Hempsted paused.
"Luther, what do you think Miss Sarah is gonna do if she finds out we are married?" Luther gathered the cook's ample body close to his and pressed his face to her neck. She always smelled of vanilla and he'd loved her since the first day they had met. "Things will work out, my sweet, Miss Sarah is a good person. Despite what Master Nick says, we both know that."
Mrs. Hempsted trembled. "But Luther, Master Nick is so smart, what if he is right and we are wrong? Miss Agatha didn't care that I'm black and you're white, but Miss Sarah's from the North and she sure has some strange notions about things. What if she snitches on us? If it got out, there could be all kinds of trouble."
Luther had already considered that. "We're not going to say anything at all for a few days," he told her as they quietly climbed the stairs. "We'll wait until we see for ourselves what Miss Sarah is going to do, and then if the time is right, we'll tell her."
"And if the time isn't right?"
Luther pulled her close and pressed his lips to hers. "Then we'll just leave."
Mrs. Hempsted dropped her head to her husband's chest. "But we've been here all our lives."
Luther rubbed his chin over the top of her bandana. "Nigh on to forty years." Lightning flashed again and thunder cracked so loudly they thought it surely had hit them. They broke apart as Tanzy flew out of the doorway.
"Miss Sarah is awake," she gasped, "and she says she's gotta go out She says it's matter of life and death and she's getting dressed."
Much to Tanzy's relief, Mrs. Hempsted brushed by her to hurry into the room.