Devil's Mistress Read online

  Chapter Thirteen

  The morning was glorious, and Sloan was convinced as they walked, arm in arm, from the Sea Hawk that Brianna had never been more beautiful. He intended to be very discreet, of course. He would not cause her discomfort for anything in the world. But she had been anxious to come ashore, and he had been happy to bring her. He felt that they were safe here. He trusted these people implicitly, because they were determined to go William’s way. He would introduce Brianna to the lord mayor as a lady of humble means, traveling to be a companion to Princess Mary of Orange. And, in fact, wasn’t that to be the truth?

  He smiled at her; she glanced at him, and quickly returned his smile. Sloan frowned then, wondering why she seemed so nervous, for it had been her idea to come ashore. He assured her that he would not have her on shore if he weren’t convinced of the wisdom of it. She merely flashed him another smile, and asked him some question about the port town.

  She was somberly garbed in forest-green wool, and he watched her with affection as they moved along. Her footsteps seemed tiny today, very ladylike. She had dressed modestly for the Puritan community. He smiled secretively; it was very difficult to equate the demure maid of this morn with the wanton temptress of the night. Her hair was tightly secured at her nape and the neckline of the green gown was at her throat. He lowered his eyes a little unhappily, shivering at an unexpected flash of foreboding. What could be wrong? he wondered. Then he carefully weighed his position again, and came up with the same conclusion. They were quite safe. Perhaps it was just her nervousness—and that terrible sadness he caught in her eyes when she wasn’t aware of his scrutiny—that was touching his soul. Yet she loved him, and he her, and in that they were complete. In time she would cease to reflect upon the things that could not change. He would see that she did. By his honor, he vowed silently, he would do everything in his power to make her happy, to give her peace. To let her know that she was cherished as few wives could ever be.

  In the tavern the lord mayor became quickly entranced with Brianna, as did a young man joining the party, a very solid sort of citizen in a black coat and black breeches, and a tall black hat, introduced as Luke Farley. As a casual discussion ensued, Sloan quickly learned that he was one of the Puritan leaders.

  “We do quite well, here, that we do!” the lord mayor boasted proudly. “We bring about the England that the late Queen Bess, and even His Majesty Charles, did so intend. We don’t persecute our people for any religious belief!” He nudged his companion. “Ah, but Luke here is longing to set forth for the Massachusetts Bay Colony—to one of the Puritan towns there! But they are not so tolerant as we, eh, Luke?” He leaned across the table, his merry eyes twinkling. “They send those who are not ‘God’s chosen’ away from God’s towns!”

  Luke Farley flushed and his fingers tightened a little nervously about his tankard of ale. Then his eyes rose to Sloan’s, and he shrugged. “Surely, Lord Treveryan, you are aware that the condition of the Colonies cannot last long. Our charter was rescinded, and even now, we have representatives at court trying to regain it!”

  Brianna glanced curiously at Sloan as he answered the young man. “I’m aware of the difficulties, sir. But I’m afraid it will be a long while before the new charter is obtained. James is busy with other affairs now.”

  “Aye, that he is,” Luke Farley murmured, and then again he shrugged. “I do not expect to hear of a charter until William and Mary come to England.”

  “You are confident of their success?”

  “And equally confident that our charter—when it is obtained—will not be the same.” He gazed at Brianna. “Forgive me, Mistress MacCardle, for you appear confused by our conversation. Previously, the laws were such that only those of our profession—our religion, as we term it—could hold public office. Perhaps we have been intolerant of others. But please understand that those of the Massachusetts Colonies battled the sea, death, and great loneliness—when they were under persecution!”

  Brianna smiled—this was her opening. “Mr. Farley, there is little you need explain to me. I spent my childhood in a Puritan household. In fact, my family are not far from here. Perhaps you know of them. The Powells?”

  “The Powells?” Luke questioned her, rather sharply. But Brianna did not have a chance to answer then, for Paddy suddenly appeared at the table, his old hat in his hands as he begged their pardon for the interruption.

  “It’s sorry I am, Cap’n, to disturb you, but the carpenter wishes to consult with you before doing certain work upon the hull.”

  Sloan appeared surprised, but not annoyed. He glanced at the party at the table with a grimace. “You’ll excuse me, gentlemen, Brianna?”

  “You, sir, we must excuse!” The lord mayor laughed. “But I pray, do not deprive us of the company of this lady.”

  “We will guard her with all our honor,” Luke promised solemnly.

  “I will return quickly,” Sloan promised.

  Brianna noticed that he whistled as he left the taproom. In fact, she noted every little thing about him then, the breadth of his shoulders, the assurance of his gait, the darkness of his hair. Everything. With her eyes she followed him until he had left the tavern, and she felt when he departed as if everything that was beautiful in life left with him. She weakened. Tears brimmed on her lashes that she feared she would not be able to blink away, and she brought every rationalization she could think of to the fore of her mind. She could not leave him, she had been a fool to think that she might. But even as she stared after him, her heart seeming to bleed from the pain, Luke Farley was speaking the words that were to sever her from Sloan.

  “Mistress MacCardle, you were asking after the Powells. I know them quite well. A number of the family are planning a move to the Colonies.”

  “Ah, your pardon, sir?” Brianna forced herself to swallow and turn to him.

  “Yes. They’re leaving in a matter of weeks. If all goes well, I, too, will be a member of the party. In fact, it is quite a coincidence that I should meet you at this time.”

  “Oh?”

  He smiled and leaned toward her. “Dear lady, if you were to rise now and walk to yonder corner, you might find yourself most pleasantly surprised.”

  Brianna frowned uncertainly. She felt the oddest tingling sensation in her body, as if she should be aware of something that she was not.

  “Please,” Luke said with a grin, and then he turned to the lord mayor. “Sir, would you—”

  “Excuse you, too?” The lord mayor asked a little tartly. “By all means, boy. If the girl has kin here, she must see them.”

  “Here!” Brianna gasped.

  Luke laughed. He was already on his feet, helping her to hers. “Come, please.”

  The tingling sensation had become such that she would not have managed to rise without Luke’s assistance. In the far corner was a group of men, all somberly garbed in deep browns and grays, their heads bent to their conversation. They ceased as she was led to them, and then she stood dead still herself as the slimmest of the men lifted his head, and saw her.

  Oh, he was so very thin and fragile in appearance. But his deep, dark eyes were dearly familiar, as was his compassionate face, the wisdom of his gaze, and the dark hair that hung to his shoulders. So familiar! So loved, and so well remembered!

  “Robert!” Brianna gasped out. “Robert Powell!”

  He stood quickly, and Brianna instantly fretted that he appeared too pale as well as far too slender, and she was shocked by the fierceness of his hold when he came to her, hugging her with a look of joy.

  “Brianna! Where—what—”

  She smiled very sadly, and not knowing anything at all about the others present, she spoke very simply. “Pegeen is dead, Robert.”

  He was studying her face intently, thumbs and fingers touching her cheeks and chin as he assured himself that she was real—and well. “I’m so sorry, Brianna, so very sorry for thee! She was a dear woman, and surely sits with God our Maker.”

  “S
o I am sure,” Brianna murmured.

  “Ah, but you have grown!” Robert said, shaking his head as he clutched her hands next, standing back to take in her full appearance.

  “I should hope so! I was but a child when last we met!”

  His touch was so gently warming, and she felt that seeing Robert, she had come home. It was all she could have hoped for; it was what she had longed for when she had first left Scotland.

  But that was before she had fallen in love with Sloan. And now, no matter how great her pleasure in seeing Robert, it was bluffed with pain. Things couldn’t have worked out any better! She didn’t have to go through any difficulty at all to find the Powells—she had found Robert without lifting a finger.

  Suddenly, in her heart, she was praying that she hadn’t found him at all. She still wanted a way to stay with Sloan.

  She lowered her lashes quickly, frightened that she would begin to cry. “How is your mother, Robert? And your father? And—”

  “Everyone is fine, Brianna. We have aged, as is God’s way, but we do well. But you’ve no thought of leaving without seeing mother and father, have you?”

  I’ve not thought of leaving at all, she replied in silence, wincing against the pain when she thought of leaving Sloan. She raised her eyes to his. “Robert, I—I have longed to reach you and your family since Pegeen died.”

  What had happened, she wondered then, what had she said? Nothing, nothing at all. But something must have slipped into her voice, something that echoed all the heartache and agony she had endured, for her cousin’s arms were suddenly around her, holding her, and his slim fingers were gently soothing her hair.

  “Thou art with us now, dear cousin, and while we breathe, none will hurt you again.”

  Don’t! Oh, don’t be so terribly kind, she wanted to cry out. She was trying to stand on her own feet, but he made it so very easy to lean against his shoulders! What would he think if he knew the whole story; that she had been condemned as a witch, that she had earned her passage by playing a whore.

  That she loved a married man with all her heart and soul, and now needed protection against herself, rather than him.

  Someone cleared his throat; Brianna and Robert both started to see that Luke and the lord mayor were standing quietly to the left of them.

  “My dear girl!” the lord mayor said, perplexed. “What is going on here?”

  Brianna forced herself to laugh lightly. “Oh, sir! Meet Robert Powell, Luke’s friend, and my dear cousin.”

  The lord mayor raised a white eyebrow. “Cousin?”

  “Ah, don’t perplex the man further, Brianna!” Robert said, bowing slightly to the lord mayor. “Our mothers were cousins, sir. Brianna spent part of her childhood in my household.”

  “And—” Brianna hesitated. She knew she must speak, and convincingly, and yet she couldn’t. It would be so easy to wait for Sloan to come back. To sail away with him, and forget all that she knew about right and wrong. But she could not. He was married; he had a wife, before God. He could never love her completely, and in time the pain of it would tear them apart, and she would hold nothing. Before God, she would be an adulteress, and willingly so.

  “Oh, dear sir!” she exclaimed to the lord mayor. “You must explain to Lord Treveryan for me that I have found my family, and that I am going with Robert to join my own kin.”

  “Brianna—” Robert began, and she didn’t know what he was about to say, so she discreetly stamped on his foot, cutting him off.

  “Will you do that for me, please?” Brianna finished.

  “Well, I—I—” the lord mayor stuttered, his cheeks turning red, and Brianna was sorry that she did not dare meet Sloan again herself.

  “He will be most pleased to hear that things have worked out so well!” she lied.

  Luke stepped into the conversation, believing her every word. Perhaps his heart was so staunchly Puritan, so trusting in goodness and the truth, that he didn’t think to doubt the situation. He was, perhaps, such a man as to consider it unthinkable that she had spent her voyage as the Lord Treveryan’s mistress.

  “Praise God!” said Luke, smiling as if a miracle had indeed occurred. “That you have sought your kin, and found them here in our midst!”

  “Amen!” Robert said, and suddenly all Brianna wanted to do was leave the tavern before Sloan could walk back in. If she saw him again, she would never be able to leave him.

  “Robert, forgive me. I’m feeling a little faint …”

  “Ah, poor child! Come to the bench, I’ll call for water and salts. ”

  “No, no!” she pleaded, lifting a hand. “If I could but have some fresh air …”

  “Of course, of course!” Robert bowed slightly to all assembled, then, gripping her elbow, hurried her outside the tavern.

  “Do you wish to sit?” he queried gently. “What shall I do?”

  She smiled wanly. “Get me out of here, quickly, Robert, please.”

  “But should you walk—”

  “Yes, oh, please take me home. I do not wish to disturb your business, but I am desperate! I cannot stay here.”

  She would never know quite what he understood at that moment, but he tarried no longer. They hurried across the road to the small stable where his horse was lodged, and he apologized that they must ride together, for he had no other. Brianna assured him that it didn’t matter in the least. Finally, when she was mounted behind him, she pressed her face against his back, willing herself not to cry out, not to jump from the horse and race back to Sloan.

  As they rode he told her about the family. There had been many births over the years and there were babies always about the house, to his mother’s delight. Then he started saying something about the Colonies, but she didn’t hear. With each tired plod of the old workhorse’s hooves, she realized that they were going farther and farther away. She could no longer smell the sea, nor hear any sound of waves or surf. Each of those hoofbeats kept time with the dull thud of her heart; she was leaving Sloan, she was leaving him, when he was all that she loved in the world.

  “Ah, Brianna, despite the problems, it is a new world. A wonderful new world. Far away. A man may hold all the land he craves, and all his neighbors are of like persuasion! Think of it! It is a special place for God’s chosen …”

  She didn’t know what he was saying, although she fully heard the drone of his voice. It meant nothing. Nothing at all.

  Suddenly, in the haven of a green forest cove, she burst into tears.

  Robert drew the horse quickly to a halt and slid from the saddle. Vaguely she felt his arms, the slimness of him, and the rattle in his chest, and fearing for him was perhaps the best thing for her at that moment. She stiffened, determined not to lean, and she tried to wipe the tears quickly from her cheeks.

  “Brianna, what is it?”

  “Oh, you’re not well.”

  “I’m fine! I’m fine!” He told her impatiently, and, his arm set about her shoulders, he walked her to a spot of rich and splendid green beneath a gnarled oak, and pressed her to sit. He disappeared, and was back, offering her water. She took a sip, then leaned back against the tree, staring upward to the sky. The leaves played over the fall of sunlight, one minute shadowing, the next breaking apart to allow a dazzle of golden light through.

  At last she looked at her cousin and she felt ridiculous, for she was trying to smile while great liquid drops which she could not prevent fell from her eyes and dampened her cheeks.

  His face, that gentle, caring face from her childhood, touched now with lines of age about his eyes and mouth, was taut with worry.

  “You are so very good,” she whispered.

  “You must tell me what hurts you so,” he returned quietly. “Please.” He hesitated just a moment. “You would not have my mother see you so distressed, would you?”

  “No, no,” Brianna said, lowering her head. She plucked a blade of grass from the ground and shredded it between her fingers. Laughter bubbled in her throat, although nothing at al
l was amusing. Then she stared at him and blurted out, “I am a witch, Robert. Did you know that?”

  “Brianna!” His dark brows knit in a stern frown. “You must not say such a thing, even jokingly.”

  “But I am—”

  “If you have been practicing witchcraft, white or malefic, you must cease immediately! You will be hanged, and far worse, you will cast your immortal soul into the pits of hell!”

  Staring at him, she began to shake her head. “Oh, Robert! I never practiced any form of witchcraft! But that is why Pegeen is dead, Robert. They—they—burned her. Oh, Robert! There was a horrible, evil man, I swear it, who claimed against her, and she was innocent. He brought me to trial also, and I was almost hanged. I—”

  “Stop! Stop!” Robert interrupted her. “Slowly, Brianna, tell it all to me slowly.”

  She did. She drew in a great shivering breath and began to tell him part of the story, leaving out most things about Sloan, except that he had twice saved her from the clutches of “the law.” And at long last she ended with “But I am innocent, Robert. I swear it to you.”

  “I believe you.” He sighed, leaning against the tree beside her. He was silent for several minutes, and when he spoke, it was thoughtfully. “This all seems to be for the best,” he said. “In a matter of weeks we will be gone from England. No one will know what went before, and in the Colonies we will start over.”

  “The Colonies?” she murmured.

  “Aye.” He set his arm around her again. “Brianna, if you escaped, as you say, you are still guilty before the law. Only the king could give you a pardon, and he certainly would not. Brianna, I would not spread this story farther than it has gone, for people who do not know you would think you guilty of the crime.”

  He paused again, then asked quite suddenly, “Why did you start to cry so?”

  “I—I just told you.”

  “Nay, you told me a tragic story, but not why you were so very anxious to leave the tavern. And why did you burst into tears as we left the sea behind us without taking proper leave of the man who saved your life?”

  She couldn’t find words, or her voice. At length she shook her head and whispered, “I could not.”