Читать книгу Dulcie's Gift - Ruth Langan, Ruth Ryan Langan - Страница 12

“I will say good-night now.” Aunt Bessie handed her cup to Robert and made her way to the door. “Calhoun, will you see me to my room?”

“Of course.” Her nephew put down his coffee and offered his arm.

As the two swept from the room and up the wide, curved staircase, Dulcie stifled a yawn. “Come, children,” she said. “It’s time for bed.”

Lulled by the food, exhausted by their day’s work, Starlight and the children offered no protest as they followed Dulcie out of the room and up the stairs. Dulcie tucked the two little girls in bed, kissed them, then proceeded to Nathaniel’s room.

“Barc is nice, isn’t he?” the child murmured as Dulcie smoothed the covers over him.

“Yes.”

“He gave me one of his cookies.”

“That was kind of him.”

“You don’t mind?”

Dulcie laughed. “No, Nathaniel, I don’t mind. I just want you to remember your manners. These people are kind enough to offer us shelter, and in return we owe them some courtesy.”

“I’ll work hard, Dulcie.”

She tousled his hair and leaned down to kiss his forehead. “I know you will. I’m very proud of you, Nathaniel. Good night.”

“Good night, Dulcie.”

She closed his door and made her way to the room where Clara lay sleeping. A touch to the child’s forehead assured her that there was no fever. For long moments she stood beside the bed, listening to the slow, easy breathing, relieved that her young charge seemed to be mending.

Next she checked on Fiona. The room was in darkness except for a pale sliver of light, and she clasped her friend’s hand as she stood by the bed. “Oh, Fiona, I’m frightened for you.”

“Don’t be.” Cal’s deep voice, directly behind her, made her gasp and spin around.

At her reaction he said, “Forgive me, Miss Trenton. I thought you’d seen me when you came in. I just thought I’d look in on your friend.”

Cal studied Dulcie in the spill of moonlight. Though she resembled so many of the other refugees he’d seen clogging the roads in the South, there was a stubborn strength in her, a fierceness that said she would survive at any cost.

He had a wild impulse to plunge his hand into the silken waves of her dark hair, to feel its smooth texture against his skin. His gaze skimmed her mouth, and he felt his throat go dry at the thought of the kiss he had stolen earlier.

An awkward silence settled between them.

Dulcie studied the man who stood scant inches from her, half his face moonlit, half in shadow. That was how she saw him. A part of him solid and steady, another part dark and dangerous. What was most alarming was that she couldn’t decide which side was most attractive to her.

“I’ll say good-night now, Miss Trenton.” He made no move to leave.

“Good night, Mr. Jermain.” She stood very still, watching him.

The figure in the bed moaned, and they both turned, their shoulders brushing as they leaned close.

“Fiona,” Dulcie whispered, “can you hear me?”

The young woman moaned again, then drifted back to sleep.

Dulcie gave a shaky sigh. “I suppose I must stop hoping for miracles.”

Cal gave a harsh sound that might have been a laugh had it not been so filled with pain. “I gave up on miracles a long time ago.”

Without thinking she glanced down at his sleeve. Seeing the direction of her gaze, he stiffened, then turned away.

She thought briefly about holding him back with a touch, a word. But what could she possibly do or say that would ease the awkwardness between them? She allowed the moment to pass.

Without a word he left.

For long minutes she remained, listening to her friend’s breathing. The only other sound in the room was the pounding of her own heart.

Cal awoke from a deep sleep to the sound of feminine voices down the hall. Opening one eye, he peered through the gloom, then rolled over, determined to steal a little more rest.

There was a trill of laughter, then more talking.

So much for sleep, he thought as he crawled out of bed and snatched up a pair of trousers. He pulled on his boots, then made his way down the hall, pulling on a shirt as he did. Without bothering to button it, he paused outside a closed door, listening to the high-pitched voices. Though it was not yet dawn, they were chattering like magpies.

He twisted open the door and thundered, “Doesn’t anyone care that there are people asleep in this house?”

The sight that greeted him was like a bucket of cold water to his heated temper. The young Irishwoman was propped up in her bed, with mounds of pillows supporting her. Beside her sat the little girl with the injured arm, Clara. Though both of them still looked pale, their eyes were crinkled with laughter. But it was the figure in the middle of the bed that caught and held his attention.

Dulcie sat, surrounded by all her charges, dressed in her chemise and petticoat and draped in a ragged shawl. Her waist-length hair spilled about her shoulders in a riot of curls.

They all looked up with alarm, their laughter quickly extinguished.

“Forgive me, Mr. Jermain,” Dulcie said. “We were so happy to see Clara and Fiona recovered from their wounds that we forgot about you and your family.”

“I see.” He took a step closer to the bed and said to Fiona, “So, you are awake at last.”

“Aye.” Fiona studied him suspiciously. “And who might you be?”

“Fiona,” Dulcie put in quickly, “this is Mr. Cal Jermain. He found our boat and brought us here to his plantation.”

“Then I am in your debt, Mr. Jermain.” Fiona extended her hand. She continued to watch him warily.

He accepted her handshake. But when he tried to touch a hand to Clara’s forehead, the little girl shrank from him.

“It’s all right,” Dulcie said softly. “Mr. Jermain just wants to see if your fever has subsided.”

Cal deliberately kept his touch gentle as he pressed his fingers to the young girl’s skin. After the briefest of contacts, he lowered his hand. He saw her gaze follow his movement, then shift to his other arm, where the cuff of his shirt ended abruptly.

“You will require some nourishment,” he said, turning away. “I’ll wake Robert.”

“No.” Dulcie wriggled off the bed. “It’s enough that we cost you your sleep. Please don’t wake Robert. I can see to their needs.”

He tried not to stare at the bare feet, the shapely ankles, peeking out from beneath her petticoat. “As you wish, Miss Trenton. Come along.” He lifted a candle from the table beside Fiona’s bed. “I’ll give you some assistance.”

Cal led the way to the kitchen and lit a lantern to dispel the gloom. Soon, with a fire on the hearth, the empty room took on a warm glow.

Without a word, Cal disappeared.

Dulcie filled a kettle from a bucket of water and placed it over the fire to boil. Then she split half a dozen biscuits and drizzled them with honey before placing them on a warming shelf above the fireplace.

When the water boiled, she wrapped a linen square around her hand and lifted the blackened kettle from the fire. Turning, she was surprised to see Cal standing at the table with a bucket of milk, which he poured into several glasses.

“I thought you’d gone to bed.” She felt a flush creep into her cheeks.

“No point in trying to sleep now. Besides, the cow would need milking in a few hours. I thought I’d save Dar the trouble. And I figured the children might be feeling hungry.”

He reached over her to a high shelf. As he did, his hand brushed the top of her head. The softness of her hair against his skin caused a pleasant sensation. Though he hadn’t intended it, he slowed his movements in order to better enjoy the moment.

What was it about this woman that heightened all his senses? Standing here, barely touching, he became aware of the soft scent of her, like a meadow after a spring rain. Though the shawl preserved her modesty, he could tell that the body beneath the opaque chemise and petticoat was perfectly formed. Long legs. Rounded hips. A slender waist. A shadowy cleft between high, firm breasts. The pale column of throat. And a face so fair, so lovely, it made his heart skip a beat.

He removed a small pouch containing tea and spices. “Aunt Bessie swears by their healing properties,” he said as he measured some into a cup.

Dulcie poured the water, inhaling their fragrance. “I don’t know if this can truly heal, but it smells wonderful.”

“Then fix yourself a cup. And one for me,” he added impulsively, sprinkling the precious spiced tea into two more cups.

He couldn’t imagine why he’d said that. It had been years since he’d tasted Aunt Bessie’s tea. And even more years since he’d done something so spontaneous. But the tea and spices did smell wonderful. And it was a small compensation for having missed his sleep.

When everything was arranged on a heavy silver tray, Cal picked it up, deftly balancing one side on his maimed arm. He indicated the lantern. “Lead the way, Miss Trenton.”

He followed her along the hallway and up the stairs, achingly aware of the sway of her hips beneath the petticoat. If the very proper Miss Dulcie Trenton knew what he was thinking, he would certainly taste her temper again. Only this time, instead of a basket of sheets, he might find himself wearing a tray of biscuits, milk and hot tea.

He could still taste that first shocking kiss. A second one would be worth whatever punishment she meted out. The thought brought a smile to his lips, which he quickly erased as she shoved open the door to Fiona’s room.

At the sight of milk and biscuits, little Emily clapped her hands in delight. “Oh, Dulcie! Is this a party?”

“Indeed it is. We are celebrating Clara and Fiona’s return to the land of the living.” Dulcie made room on the nightstand, and Cal set down the tray.

“Aunt Bessie’s spiced tea for you, Fiona,” Dulcie announced as she handed her friend a cup.

“Aunt Bessie?”

“She is Mr. Jermain’s aunt. She asked us to call her Aunt Bessie while we are here.”

Clara accepted a glass of milk and asked solemnly, “How long will that be?”

Everyone glanced at Cal. Aware of the tense silence that had descended upon them, he weighed his words carefully. They were, after all, an inconvenience to him and his family. But it seemed unnecessary to spoil the moment.

“I’m sure you will be eager to leave as soon as both Fiona and Clara are strong enough to travel by boat to the mainland.”

“Do you mean Charleston?” Clara asked.

“Yes. That would be the nearest town.”

“But we can’t—”

In a panic, Dulcie passed the plate under the child’s nose and said firmly, “Have a biscuit, Clara.”

Cal saw the worried glances the others exchanged.

The moment passed. Clara nibbled a biscuit and retreated into stony silence. The other children sat, heads bowed, avoiding his eyes. Even Starlight, nervously tracing a finger along the pattern on the quilt, refused to lift her head.

The little scene confirmed Cal’s worst suspicions. This bunch was hiding something. Even innocent children had been coerced into keeping the secret.

He drained his cup without taking the time to taste the delicate spices. Then he placed it on the tray and said abruptly, “I’ll bid you all good morning.”

No one spoke as Cal’s footsteps receded down the hallway.

Minutes later Dulcie gathered the empty glasses and cups and placed them on the silver tray. Turning, she kissed Clara and Fiona, then said to the others, “There’s still time for an hour or more of sleep before the day begins. I suggest we put it to good use”

She lifted the candle and led her little party to their rooms. Then she headed downstairs with the tray. But as she stepped into the kitchen, she realized her mistake.

Cal had not gone back to bed. He was standing by the window, staring out over the moonlit fields. When he turned to her, there was an ominous look in his eyes.

“What is it you and the others are hiding, Miss Trenton?”

Dulcie’s breath backed up in her throat. Setting down the tray, she turned away, intent on leaving without a response. But his hand on her sleeve stopped her.

“I demand an answer, Miss Trenton.”

She lifted her chin in that infuriating way and turned to face him. “What you ask is none of your concern, Mr. Jermain.”

“The fact that you have taken refuge in my home makes it my concern, Miss Trenton. I want no trouble brought to my doorstep. The war has left my family weary beyond belief.”

Her own tone deepened with passion. “I will remind you that yours was not the only family touched by the war. We are all weary. But we must go on if we are to survive.”

Anger made him careless. Without taking time to consider his actions, he dragged her close, until her face was mere inches from his. Hot breath fanned her cheek as he growled, “Woman, you try my patience to the limit. Now tell me what it is that sent you fleeing into the eye of a storm.”

She tried to pull away, but his strength was too great. The fire in his eyes frightened her, but she would never let him know that. Instead, she fought back with haughty indignation. “You go too far, sir. Release me at once.”

“Tell me why you are running.”

Dulcie froze.

Seeing her reaction he said, “If it is in my power, I will help you. But you must be honest with me.”

She struggled to push free of his arms, but he held her fast. “Damn you, woman. Trust me.”

She gave a sound that might have been a harsh laugh. Her throat was so constricted she could barely get the words out. “If the war has taught me one thing, it is not to trust anyone.” Anger darkened her eyes. “Certainly not a man who tries to force his will on me.”

Cal’s eyes narrowed as though he’d been struck. Without a word he turned away and strode from the kitchen, slamming the door behind him.

For long minutes Dulcie stood, listening to the sound of his footfall as he stalked to the barn. If only she was free to confide in him. But she dared not. She had sworn the others to secrecy. She would not be the one to break the vow.

For now, she must live in a prison of her own making. And there was no room in that prison for the embittered Cal Jermain.