Dark Splendor (2 page)

“Get out of my cabin,” she ordered, her eyes
igniting in a wildfire of golden lights. Cautiously backing around
the room to allow him passage through the door, she steadied her
trembling legs against the wall. “Out,” she sobbed.

Roman backed toward the door, wanting no
part of the other boot.

“You’re no flower, but a spiny thistle.” His
tone cracked sharply. He had assumed he would be welcome in her
bed, so his exasperation was painfully vexing. Roman found himself
in the hall barefoot and shirtless and dared not knock for the
return of his garments.

His pride gave him no protection from the
cold and he faced the option of exposing himself to Morgan’s
ridiculing gibes or chancing that Captain Langham’s cabin would be
empty.

He stepped two paces away and paused to make
a sidelong glance at the door. Irritably he made a small mocking
bow toward the portal. As his head dipped in pretentious deferment,
the hinges creaked rudely open and his garments flew like rubbish
through the air to land in a grudging heap at his feet.

“And a good evening to you,” he called out
in his mellow voice. His own ire had succumbed to humor, and with a
conciliatory shrug to his broad shoulders, he gathered up his garb
and stepped lightly to the captain’s quarters, where he clothed
himself. A bottle of wine sat at liberty on the table, and when
Langham came below a short time later, Roman had partaken of a good
portion of it.

***

Silvia braced her weight against the bolted
door. Not even her nightmares had been as terrifying as the
experience that left her stunned and shaking and fully as incensed
as frightened. She had expected to travel to Schlange Island in the
colonies in the makeshift quarters of the hold with other bond
servants. But the captain had assured her Wilhelm Schlange, who
owned her bond paper as well as the ship, meant for her to have a
cabin.

Shivering with a chill of fear, she pushed
the chair against the door. As soon as she was calmed and could
dress, she would seek Captain Langham’s protection. Surely he would
take measures to ensure her safety on the voyage.

She choked back a lump in her throat. There
seemed to be no end to the trials in her life. Having gathered the
courage to defy her Uncle Hollister and leave London to be a bond
servant, she had been foolish enough to think her life would be
free of troubles. She sat weakly on the edge of the rumpled bunk,
pulling the rough blanket around her for warmth.

She could hear her uncle’s brutal, drunken
laugh as if he were in the cabin. A kindhearted girl, she had been
no match for his irritable and demanding ways. He was a troubled
man who vacillated between treating her kindly, as his beloved
niece, and considering her a troublesome burden he must bear. Only
out of respect and pity had she been able to tolerate his abuse the
last year since her aunt had died.

They had come to harsh words one evening a
few weeks earlier when he insisted she give him the money she
earned as a seamstress so he could cover his gambling debts.

“Aye, girl, it’s my due.” He had slammed a
thick fist on the tabletop, rattling the plates and cups. “Do you
forget who took you in when your mama and papa died? But for me you
might have spent your years in a foundling home.”

Her own anger had surged then and she
responded hotly. “I know who took me in and who spent the little
inheritance Mama and Papa left. And who sold all Aunt Agatha’s
things after she died.” She lifted her chin proudly and her eyes
flashed angrily. “Until we are reduced to living in squalor and
shrinking from the door lest the knock be from a creditor or
another of your gambling gentlemen here to threaten.”

Silvia drew back. His neck swelled with rage
and he half-rose from the chair. Why couldn’t she hold her temper?
Arguing with him was futile. He had warned her a nettling tongue
would do her in. Yet it wounded her to hear him justify his actions
as charity when she remembered his promise to her father. He had
sworn to treat her as his own daughter.

“Blast you, girl! Get the money or I’ll
smash your room apart bit by bit until I find it for myself.” His
face reddened and his black eyes, like stones, lost any trace of
warmth. “You’re twenty and two years and too choosy ever to find a
husband. You’ll fare well to remember I’m master of this household
and you’ve no place else to go.”

Silvia had surrendered her money, but next
morning had applied and quickly been accepted as a bond servant.
Two weeks later to the day, she had slipped out of the house in the
early hours of the morning carrying a worn carpetbag filled with
her meager possessions. It had been a walk of many miles to the
docks and that morning she had arrived at the ship weary and
anxious to be under way.

Silvia chastised herself. All that was in
the past and there would be no looking back. She had a more
immediate problem. She must get to the captain quickly and report
the intruder. Fetching her bag from the cupboard and without
quibbling about which dress she selected, Silvia pulled one out and
slipped it on, hastily fastening the buttons that fitted the collar
high on her throat. Her flesh seemed to be on fire. Who was the man
and why had he come to her cabin?

She grazed her fingertips over the nectarous
imprint of his mouth. How soft his lips had been there, touching
her skin like fluttering wings. And his hands, warmly supple on her
bare shoulders while his voice was a sweet whisper in her ear.

Yet that had only been her dream. She
searched the bed and found her boot resting beside the pillow.
There was no gentleness in the real man. He was a rogue. A
villainous cur with eyes like a blue web spun to lull a victim
within his grasp. She pushed her feet into the boots and laced them
tightly. The man, whoever he might be, was a dangerous jackanapes
with no heart and no morals.

Silvia draped her cloak loosely over her
shoulders and entered the passageway to find Captain Langham. A few
steps from her door, she felt the ship pitch to one side. Steadying
herself by keeping to the wall, Silvia edged slowly along until she
reached the captain’s quarters. She knocked lightly, hoping she
would not have to look for him on the bridge.

In a moment the door opened. “Why, Miss
Bradstreet, what a pleasant surprise.” Langham greeted her with a
warmth that should have quickly set her at ease.

He was a stalwart fellow, with bowed legs
and large meaty hands. Silvia strained to her tiptoes to see him
better in the dim light. Something about him disturbed her. Yet at
a glance his expression was full of reassurance. Only a dull light
in his steely eyes indicated all was not as it seemed with the
master of the vessel.

“Captain, I must speak to you,” she said
nervously.

“By all means, Miss Bradstreet. I was about
to send the cabin boy to invite you to join us for dinner. You’ve
saved him the trip.”

With welcome civility he invited her in.
Silvia braced against the doorjamb as the ship pitched again. The
cabin, she saw at a glance, was a spacious compartment compared to
the one she occupied. The walls were of rich rubbed mahogany and
fitted with polished brass lamps. At the far end was a small teak
table laid out with rose-patterned china and silver goblets.

Silvia halted her wobbly steps, her tawny
eyes wide with shock. Seated were two men, so much alike she
thought for a moment she was seeing double. But in an instant she
knew the eyes were different. Those of the man on the left blazed
at her like blue flames, flickering a succession of emotions she
could not discern.

His trousers were of a pearl grey and his
waistcoat of a charcoal color. A diamond pin set in gold sparkled
in the white silk jabot at his throat. Her lower lip trembled as
she looked into the face vividly etched in her memory.

She felt her cheeks flushing and turned her
gaze to the man at the right. He rose as she entered the cabin. He
was dressed in brown, in garments as rich as those worn by the
other. A tan shirt trimmed with lacy ruffles at the sleeves and at
his neck almost matched the light brown of his hair. His coat was a
dark shade of brown and fastened with gold buttons. His eyes were
the peaceful blue-gray of a dove, softer, less serious, less
mocking than those of his companion.

Langham faintly lifted his brows as he
watched the confrontation with unmasked irony. “Miss Bradstreet,
may I present two other passengers aboard the
Eastwind
...”

“Miss Bradstreet and I are acquainted,”
Roman said before the captain could complete the introduction. He
rocked back in his chair. A half-smile crossed his lips and changed
to a brooding scowl as he touched a finger to the welt on his
forehead. “Though she neglected to tell me her name.”

Her eyes blazed with golden fury as she
glared at his handsome face. She might have stung it with a slap
had he not been across the room.

Laughter rang out from the other gentleman,
but when Silvia glanced at him she saw the jesting look was
directed at his companion.

“A memorable introduction, I believe.” He
smiled and made a slight bow. “I am Morgan Toller and the boorish
chap is my brother Roman.” His eyes twinkled with amusement as he
watched his brother arch a brow and glare at him.

Morgan had goaded Roman into telling him how
he received his injury. It wasn’t often he could laugh about his
brother’s escapades with the fair sex. And to his eyes Miss
Bradstreet was the fairest of fair. Roman generally had his pick of
women, and seeing his vexation was quite amusing.

“I’m delighted to meet you, Mr. Toller,”
Silvia said, blushing faintly as Morgan took her hand and raised it
to his lips.

Langham stepped nearer. “You will join us
for dinner, Miss Bradstreet?” he asked, then smiling pleasantly
added, “I trust you rested well.”

“Captain, I...Silvia’s jaw went slack.
Behind Langham she could see the imposing form of Roman Toller as
he got to his feet. Arms crossed over his chest, he stood like a
carved figure, his stare fixed tauntingly on her face. He did not
try to hide the mockingly humorous glint in his eyes. Angrily she
blinked back her tears, but if Langham noticed, he remained
politely mum.

“Captain, I find I am somewhat indisposed. I
am not accustomed to the sea,” she said in a voice deceptively
calm. Her dark brows slanted in a frown. “If you will excuse me, I
will return to my cabin.” Her chin went up. “Perhaps you would see
that a tray is sent to me later.”

Roman Toller deliberately meant to awe her.
And it disturbed her that he stood so close. She had an
uncomfortable suspicion he had been recounting his misadventure to
the other men. If such were the case, and she had no reason to
doubt that it was, telling the captain of his advances would avail
her little.

Captain Langham presented himself as an
honorable man; nevertheless she suspected that in an exchange of
accusations, the word of a gentleman would win out against that of
a bond servant.

“Are the accommodations suitable, Miss
Bradstreet?” Langham seemed particularly pleased with himself, and
his abundance of politeness began to wear tediously on her
nerves.

Could she trust the captain? Her thoughts
were of rage, but her reply came softly. “The accommodations are
beyond my expectations, sir.” Silvia shifted unsteadily from one
foot to the other. “I bid you a pleasant good evening, gentlemen,”
she said sweetly. “Forgive me for interrupting you.”

The men might have had a good laugh at her
expense. She would not give them the satisfaction of being
intimidated by them or of further kowtowing in their presence.

Langham smiled benignly and escorted her
into the narrow passageway. “Good evening to you, Miss Bradstreet.”
He locked his knees to ride the easy listing of the craft. “I trust
you will soon be feeling better.”

“Oh!” she cried out as the vessel lobbed
heavily, and he touched an icy hand to her arm as support against
the sudden motion.

“We should be in calmer seas by morning.”
Langham smiled and gave a courteous bow.

Silvia took her leave with a nod of
acknowledgment, her heart beating with anxious rapidity. A fevered
flush stained her skin and she determined, as she fought the doubts
that plagued her, to spend much of the voyage in what little
sanctuary her cabin could offer.

The thought of being confined for months on
a ship with that horrible Roman Toller repulsed her as much as
being closeted with an evil sea monster. She closed her eyes and
prayed the time would pass quickly and she would soon reach
Schlange Island, where at last she would find a life free of
complications and danger.

Captain Langham noted the proud set of her
shoulders as she opened the cabin door and disappeared inside. He
sensed undercurrents in the conversation between Miss Bradstreet
and the Tollers he did not fully understand. And he would just as
soon keep it that way. Whatever Schlange’s plan for the three of
them, he had fulfilled his part. He hoped for his sake the old man
would be satisfied. Wilhelm Schlange demanded more than the devil
from those in his employ, and his wrath would be no less than that
of the Dark One if the plan went astray.

He pitied the girl, for she had no chance
against Schlange.

The sun flecked a hazy sky with patches of
blood-red light just before sunset. Silvia Bradstreet stood alone
on deck as the
Eastwind
docked in the small harbor of
Schlange Island, her skin rose-tinted from the gusty wind which
whipped her hair around her like a dark, luminous mist. She felt an
excited flutter in her heart as she prepared to disembark. The
voyage from London had seemed endless and had been fraught with bad
weather and bad company.