Bewitching Kisses (Bewitching Kisses Series) (4 page)

Agatha looked up at his classic features and gave his cheek a sharp pat. “Never bet on something unless you’re sure you can win, Nicky. Otherwise it’s a waste of money.” She pulled her cape more firmly about her. “Oh, I almost forgot. You can’t come for supper tonight, I’ve made other plans. What are you two waiting for?” she snapped. “The good Lord is going to call me to my grave before you even get me home. And if you don’t like carrying me about, think how you’ll feel carrying a corpse.”

Nick laughed, then gave the porters a sympathetic wink as Wadsworth closed the door behind them.

Chapter Three

Squaring her shoulders as much as her borrowed shift would allow, Sarah stood at the top of the massive staircase and looked down at the lavish foyer below. Huge paintings broke the starkness of the pristine white walls and a bouquet of fresh flowers graced a highly polished table near the door. The fierce rains had ceased and sunlight now poured through the tall windows to bounce off the crystal chandelier and scatter in all directions.

The sudden brightness stung her eyes, and Sarah felt her head grow light. Desperately, she clutched the banister and sank to the steps offering up a fervent prayer.

“Please let this be a dream,” she whispered, willing the queasiness in her stomach to pass. The rocking motion of the ship washed over her, and her hand rubbed absently on the smooth oaken banister for reassurance. Her memory of the night before seemed as scattered as dandelion fluff tossed by the wind. There had been a man. She remembered his silhouette illuminated by the firelight, but no face came to mind. Then she remembered waking to the smell of hot cider. A young girl, no more than nine years in age, had gently bade her to rise and bathe. Sarah smiled thinking of the huge tub of hot water. What a luxury. Her body and hair scrubbed clean and dried by the fire had done much to restore her spirits and push the clouds from her mind. But as she donned the offered garments, she could not help but wonder as to their owner. Carefully, she had tried to glean information from the girl. She had smiled shyly but offered no answers. By the time Sarah was dressed she knew only that she was to make her way to the master’s study as soon as she was fit. The master waited for her and would she please not dawdle.

Sitting on the top step, leaning against the newel post, Sarah rubbed her temples. Her mind raced with confusion. Where was she and in whose bed had she slept? A score of questions tumbled one over the other for her attention until her head ached.

Sarah opened her eyes. “Have you forsaken me, Lord?” The sunlight intensified, bathing her in a golden glow, and she reveled in its healing warmth. Relieved that the steps before her no longer rocked to and fro, Sarah slowly rose to her feet. Gathering what was left of her dignity, she smoothed the borrowed skirt and pushed the shift back onto her shoulder. But as she soundlessly made her way down the carpeted stairs, her hands turned clammy and her anxiety grew.

She tapped firmly on the study door, then taking a deep breath, turned the latch and stepped inside.

“Mistress Townsend, do please come in.”

Sarah paused just inside the doorway and blinked with confusion. Despite the sun that poured in through the deep windows, a hearty fire crackled in the hearth. The massive oak furniture that filled the room carried not a speck of dust and the air smelled faintly of beeswax and lemons. But as Sarah stared at the short, wiry gentleman who rose to greet her, her brow wrinkled. His thinning blond hair had been combed across a wide forehead in a futile effort to disguise a blading pate, and glasses rode low on his thin nose. His nasal voice bid her enter and sit.

“Mr. Beaumont?” she hesitated, using the name the child had spoken.

“What? Oh, my, no, I am Michael Danvers, Mistress Townsend. I am an attorney.” His chest puffed with pride. “I represent Beaumont Shipping. I . . . aaaaachoooo.”

Sarah waited impatiently as Danvers sneezed several times, and then made a grand show of blowing his nose into a white handkerchief the size of a small table covering. The man wiped his tearing eyes and tried to settle his glasses.

“I have no quarrel with Beaumont Shipping, sir,” Sarah said quietly. “And the only recompense I seek is a passage back to my home.”

“Recompense,” Danvers stammered as his watery eyes grew wide. “Surely, madam, you misunderstand. As a bondswoman, you are hardly eligible for recompense. Oh, no, madam.” Danvers stuffed his handkerchief into a bulging side pocket and then made a grand show of stacking the papers before him into a neater pile. “I am here to inquire about your previous owner for Mr. Beaumont.”

“You think that I am a bondswoman?” Sarah struggled to make sense of the attorney’s words.

Danvers looked down his nose and his voice filled with censure. “You obviously gained passage on the
Lady May
without purchase of fare, and . . .”

“Purchase of fare!” Sarah leaned forward in her chair. Her hands grabbed the edge of the desk and her eyes flashed with anger. “I was kidnapped, sir. I had no wish to leave Salem and travel here.” She glanced about at the book-lined walls. “I’m not even sure where here is! But what I do know is that I was taken against my will and thrown into the belly of a ship that belongs to your employer. I was bound and half starved for days on end while rats larger than your foot were my constant companions.” Sarah suppressed a shudder. “And now you say that I deserve nothing? I deserve more than recompense, sir. I deserve the most humble of apologies. If Beaumont is the owner, then perhaps ‘twould be best if I speak directly with him. Where can I find the man?”

“Directly behind you, my dear.” The voice was a rich baritone that had Sarah leaping to her feet and spinning about in the same motion. Her heart quickened as she stared at the tall, well-dressed gentleman. He moved around her with careless ease to stand before the desk. Sarah took in the costly brocade of his coat and the muscles that flexed beneath the garment’s fine stitching. Unlike the attorney, his complexion wasn’t a pasty white, but a rich golden hue that spoke of hours in the sun.

“Mr. Beaumont?” she stammered, wondering if he could hear the pounding of her heart from where he stood.

“Nicholas Beaumont, your servant, madam.” He gave a mocking bow.

Sarah took a deep, steadying breath and clasped her hands tightly together. “I believe there has been a hideous misunderstanding and we are now left to deal with a most grievous problem.”

Nick waited patiently until his silence caused her to look directly at him. He caught and held her gaze with ease. “
W
e have a problem . . . ?” His thick brow arched in silent amusement.

Sarah stared in wonder. His was a most handsome face, framed with thick dark hair pulled back in a queue at the nape of his neck. His jaw was firm, taking on an almost stubborn tilt, but as her gaze locked with his, the devilish twinkle of his eye brought the memory of the night before crashing down on her with painful clarity.

He had been the one to free her bonds and wrap her gently in a blanket. Then she had floated in a sea of warmth. Resting against his strong arm, she had watched through a cloudy haze as he washed the filth from her body. He had seen her as no man ever had and she hadn’t possessed the strength or the will to stop him. But now, in the light of the afternoon sun, her cheeks flamed with the memory and the shame it brought. Mortified, she watched as his smile deepened and knew he read her thoughts with ease.

Unaware of the ever-growing tension, Danvers flipped the papers down on the desk before him and impatiently cleared his throat. “Mistress Townsend, please, if you would sit, we could continue.”

Sarah tore her eyes away and gratefully sank back on her chair. She tried to concentrate on the attorney’s words, but her thoughts kept returning to the night before. A soothing voice, more dream than real, had banished her nightmares and bid her rest in peace. She remembered the softness of a fine feather pillow beneath her cheek, and blessed warmth, then nothing more. She stole a glance from the corner of her eye to find Nick Beaumont watching her with unwavering persistence.

“So it would seem, Mistress Townsend, that you are not telling the truth.”

“What?” Sarah snapped back to the present and stared at the attorney in confusion. Had the man just called her a liar? “I beg pardon, sir.” She strove to keep her voice calm and her fear from showing. “I have been through an ordeal and beseech your indulgence. What are you saying?”

Danvers propped his elbows on the desk and glared. “Madam, the charade is up. Captain Riggins produced the papers that prove your bondage. Why not ease yourself and tell . . .”

“Charade!” Sarah flew to her feet, every delicate feature filled with rage. “Sir, I am a God-fearing woman. And I do not lie! I tell you I was kidnapped. My family must be frantic by this time.”

“You are married?” Nick’s eyes narrowed. The thought of her with another man was less than pleasing, and he found it irritating he should care.

Sarah shook her head. What agonies Elizabeth and Samuel must be facing not knowing what had become of her. “I must be returned to Salem,” She demanded.

“Mistress Townsend, calm yourself,” Danvers snapped. “I have checked the documents carefully and they are completely in order. They state very clearly that you are bound into service for an additional ten years.”

Sarah felt the blood in her veins turn to ice as a dreadful premonition washed over her. “I’m not going back on that ship.” Her voice quivered and she struggled not to scream her frustration. She had only to close her eyes to see the pockmarked face of Captain Riggins with his leering smile. The terrors of her voyage were too fresh to be easily forgotten: the bleak darkness with its constant dip and sway, the stench of human waste and rotting fish, and the scurry of rats as they brushed against her feet ready to challenge her for the bits of food that were tossed down. Bitter acid rose in the back of her throat and Sarah struggled to fight it back.

Nick watched the color drain from her face and wondered if she would faint. Damn, but she was a fine actress. She actually had him believing her story, feeling sympathy for her plight. The drooping shift and oversize skirt should have made her a comical sight, yet she only appeared more fragile. Her thick midnight hair was pulled severely from her face, but it only served to heighten the perfection of her delicate features, the soft curve of her cheekbone, and the sweet fullness of her lips.

Danvers cast a fleeting look in his employer’s direction and received a scowl that hastened him on again. “We at Beaumont Shipping can understand your distress, Mistress Townsend. And I am happy to be able to tell you that returning to Captain Riggins is completely out of the question.” He waited for her smile or word of thanks, but when none came, Danvers rolled his eyes. “Mr. Beaumont has bought your papers.” He explained.

Sarah turned to stare at Nick. “You bought the papers?” His look of indifference baffled her.

Irritated by the intensity of his reaction to her, Nick cocked a brow. “Does the situation not please you? Did you want to go back to the ship?” He watched her ivory skin grow paler, saw Danvers smile, and felt instant disgust for what he had just done. “You say you were kidnapped,”he continued, “yet we have no proof.”

“You have my word, sir.” Sarah snapped as color surged back into her cheeks.

Nick stared, suddenly pleased that she met his gaze with conviction. “As I was saying, we have no proof. But I do intend to get to the bottom of this.” He straightened and moved to stand beside the desk. “Beaumont Shipping has a vessel that leaves in a few days for the Bay Colony, and arrangements have been made for one of my agents to go along. Beckett will make inquiries of this family you speak of and bring back the answers we need.”

“Let me travel with him.” Sarah turned back to Danvers. “Surely that is possible in a situation such as this. That way when the truth is known, I will be almost home.” Again she watched him glance in Nick’s direction.

“I am afraid that will not be possible, Mistress Townsend. Mr. Beaumont has papers that indenture you to him for the next ten years and –“

“I’m sure my family will gladly reimburse Mr. Beaumont for any expense he has incurred.” Sarah interrupted. “Don’t you see how much sense it would make for me to accompany the agent back to Salem?”

“Two thousand pounds.”

“What?” Sarah turned to watch Nick Beaumont perch on the corner of his desk.

“You may buy the indenture papers for two thousand pounds.”

Sarah felt her world begin to spin out of control. “You spent two thousand pounds to purchase me?”

Nick gave her a sardonic smile. “If you want to buy the papers, then you may do so for two thousand pounds.

Without thinking, Sarah jerked from her chair and snatched the document from the desk. Her eyes scanned the contents before looking up at Nick. “But you paid Riggins ten.”

Nick’s smile deepened. “I’m a businessman, my dear. And you can read. That’s a rare accomplishment. Now if you can also guarantee that your family will be willing to pay, then we can settle the matter here and now. But tell me first, just who is this Samuel Wittfield who got you into this predicament.”

Sarah’s eyes dropped to the bottom of the document where her brother’s signature stood bold and clear. Her hands began to tremble and her knees turned to jelly as she sank back into her chair. “It can’t be true.” Her voice was the barest whisper as she stared at the signature.

“So you do know the man?” Nick prodded, annoyed with himself for almost believing her story. He watched her violet eyes fill with pain and wondered if the cause was justified or just part of her charade.

Sarah laid the document back on the desk. “Samuel Wittfield is my stepbrother.” The back of her eyes felt stingy and hot. She clasped her hands again in her lap and struggled to remain composed.
Samuel wouldn’t do this,
she argued silently
. No matter how dear the land was to him he would never sacrifice family.