Renegade (9 page)

Well
. That was certainly… frank, wasn’t it? But even though she knew she should feel embarrassed by the subject, Becks appreciated his bluntness.

“Thank you for the truth, Mr. Mac.” Now she at least knew where she stood. He might have held her, and she might have seen his eyes blaze with something like appreciation… but he wasn’t going to marry. And he obviously considered her the type of woman a man married. She supposed she should be flattered.

“I did promise.”

“And yet, I suspect that you haven’t given me the full truth.”

“I assume there’s a stairway down to the kitchens back here?” He brushed past her, heading towards the back of the house. She couldn’t help it; his evasion was so very blatant that she started chuckling.

He turned then, his hand already on the jamb that would take him towards the back stairs. His expression had softened when he took in her laughter. “You look less tired when you laugh.”

Stifling giggles, she smiled at him again. “You most certainly aren’t a gentleman, Mr. Mac. You’re terrible at flattery.”

Another flash of grin. “I told you I’d tell you the truth. You look exhausted.”

“I’ve been sitting with a sick child since dawn, Mr. Mac.”

“Have you eaten?”

Surely it wasn’t improper to be warmed by his concern? “Truthfully, I’m more tired than hungry.”
Yet another lie
. Her exhaustion had evaporated as soon as she’d seen him sitting in her mother’s parlor.

He nodded. “Go rest, Becks.” Lord, her name sounded lovely coming from his lips. “I’ll take the basket down to Lola.” He’d met Lola already?

“Don’t be silly, I—” She had to stifle a yawn then, and he laughed again. Odd, how much more drained she felt now than a mere moment ago. Had his words done that?

“Go nap, Becks. I’ll see you at dinner.”

And then he was through the back door, and she was standing alone beside the stairs. Taking a deep breath, she took a hold of the bannister. He left her so easily. He’d sauntered back into her life,
touched
her,
laughed
with her, and then said goodbye… again.

And goodness gracious, wasn’t she just being maudlin? She sighed. McKee Baird had turned her head all a-jumble, and she wasn’t so sure she liked it. With him here on Beckett, things were going to be… different. And Becks didn’t particularly like things to be different.

It wasn’t until she was stretched out on her bed, her hands stacked behind her head, that she realized he’d never finished telling her his “truth.” She snorted quietly.

Business partner indeed, Mr. Baird.

She had a few days, at least, to figure out his secrets…

CHAPTER SIX

The only thing that kept that evening’s dinner from being the most dismal Mac had experienced was the memory of long-ago family gatherings thick with oppressive atmosphere. His father hadn’t believed his three sons should be at the table with the adults. Holt, as the oldest, would occasionally have been allowed to speak, but Mac and Ramsey had suffered silently with heads bowed.

Tonight, at least, had been more awkward than oppressive. Mac said just as little as he had at those long-ago dinners, but not for lack of trying. Eugenia had been unwilling to help him carry on a conversation, and Becks just picked at her food, rarely meeting his eyes. He wondered if he’d scared her off that afternoon with his frankness.

Robert, as usual, said even less than Mac. His friend had learned long ago to keep his mouth shut in the presence of the “white folk.” Years of beatings had taught him that he had nothing valuable to say. It had taken Mac a decade to convince his friend that
he
, at least, cared about Robert’s opinion. Their crew respected the big black man, and he was comfortable around them.

But he wasn’t comfortable sitting down to dinner in a big house in a once-fancy dining room with a plantation owner and her family. Both of them had been surprised when Eugenia extended the invitation, but Robert had come anyhow.

And thank God he had, because Mac couldn’t have stood the charged silence alone. As it was, having his friend at the table, thoroughly ignoring everyone else, had helped Mac focus on the meal.

Of course, Robert didn’t ignore
everyone
else. Mac caught him glancing more than once at the last member of their awkward dinner; Pearl had surprised them both when she’d swept through the doorway like she had as much right to be there as Becks. And seeing how the other ladies treated her, Mac had to assume that she was correct; Becks and Eugenia treated her like family. Of course, that didn’t stop the gorgeous young woman from glaring daggers at both Mac and his friend all evening. He tried his best to engage her in conversation, but even though she’d meet his eye—unlike her sister—she answered with one or two words at best.

What an interesting family.

And Pearl and Robert’s presence wasn’t the only surprise, either. Once the two men and Eugenia were seated, Becks and her sister excused themselves through the swinging door that led to the kitchen stairs and returned carrying bowls and platters of roast venison, vegetables, and potatoes. The food was hearty and savory, but Mac was taken aback by being served by the ladies of the house.

Did Beckett not have servants? Even his brother had a butler to organize the household servants. Of course, it wasn’t like Holt ever entertained, and he rarely did anything besides brood, so it wasn’t like the servants had a particularly hard job. But here on Beckett, he’d only seen Lola in the kitchens, and she’d left for her own home before dinner was even served. Come to think of it, Eugenia had served him the tea herself this afternoon.

What an unusual place.

After dinner, when Mac would have expected them to linger, making conversation over tea or brandy, Eugenia stood up. “Well, children. I won’t say that this hasn’t been interesting
.
” Mac wondered if the others noticed how much time the older woman has spent simply watching them during the meal. “But I suspect it couldn’t get much more uncomfortable. Let’s clean up.”

Eugenia reached for the heavy platter of venison, but Mac got there first, lifting it easily. She was his hostess, for God’s sakes… he wasn’t going to let her hurt herself for his benefit.

“McKee, please sit down.”

“Eugenia, let me help.” He matched her tone, and held her stare, until she looked away and waved dismissively. Becks and Pearl had already started collecting plates and flatware, but he didn’t miss the look the darker sister shot his way. He glanced back at Robert, who was staring at Pearl, his expression unreadable.

Mac cleared his throat slightly, and when he had Robert’s attention, jerked his chin towards the stack of cups Pearl was holding. Robert nodded, and moved around the table, intending to take them from her. But Pearl curled her arms protectively around the stack, and Robert stopped short when he saw the angry look she pierced him with. The big man slowly dropped his hands, and then took a step back. “I can…”

But Pearl interrupted. “You can just move along, boy.”

Robert inhaled sharply at the word, but Mac doubted anyone besides him noticed. The big man had a lifetime to learn how to control his expressions. A lifetime of being called
boy
and
nigra
and any number of insulting diminutives.

But to hear them from the mouth of a beautiful woman—a woman who was half-black herself—had to have been painful.

Mac wasn’t sure what Robert was thinking, because after a moment his friend dipped his chin slightly and turned to him, face blank. “I’ll go check on the ship.” His low rumble was devoid of emotion, but he kept his shoulders straight as he pushed his way out of the door.

Mac and Pearl stood alone in the dining room, her sister and Eugenia having already taken their load down to the kitchens. He wanted to say something to her, something to make her understand that Robert was a good man, and didn’t deserve anyone’s ridicule. But her face stopped him. She was almost as pale as her sister, and looked vaguely sick. Did she regret her words, then?

But when she turned back to him, her lips thinned her back straightened, and Mac could tell that she’d been raised by Eugenia Middleton. Here was another woman who wouldn’t give an inch. As he followed her through the swinging door, he wondered if Becks was the same way.

If so, no wonder the three of them were managing to run Beckett all on their own.

They cleared the table in silence, but it only took two trips with him helping. Eugenia disappeared shortly after, and Mac was glad. Since that embrace this afternoon in the foyer, he’d been thinking about Becks much more than he should. He couldn’t remember having that much fun teasing a woman before… or the last time a woman made him laugh. He’d spent an inordinate amount of time today conniving ways to get Becks to himself again.

Any proper household wouldn’t let him alone with an unmarried daughter of Becks’ age, but he was fast learning that Beckett was anything but usual. Anything but proper. All he had to do was figure out how to get Pearl to leave them alone, without scaring off Becks…

It turned out that he hadn’t needed to worry. Apparently Becks didn’t mind being alone with him, and he’d count that as a victory. Pearl had kept up her icy silence throughout the cleaning process; he could feel her glaring at him even when his back was turned. Becks had started the washing-up after he’d carried in some water from the well, and when Pearl moved to begin drying, Becks sighed. “Don’t bother, Pearl. I’ll take care of this. You go… check on your chickens or something.”

Her sister bristled. “Are you addled? I’m not…” She took a deep breath. “I’ll dry first.”

Mac tried his best grin, but it was lost on both ladies. “I’ll dry. I might not know where everything goes, but I’ve dried my share of dishes.”

Pearl’s eyes narrowed and she all-but-hissed, “Dryin’ is my job. I’m not gunna leave you here with her, just because you think you’ve got a nice smile.”

Becks sighed again then, and Mac noticed how exhausted she looked. “Pearl. It’s fine. Really.” When Pearl just stared, Becks smiled tightly and shooed her away. “Go on, get. We’ll finish the clean-up.”

“Fine!” Pearl snapped, throwing the dishcloth at Mac’s chest. By the time he caught it from slipping to the ground, she’d stormed through the back door.

Both he and Becks seemed to breathe a little easier then. They worked in companionable silence for a while, her elbow-deep in sudsy water and him with his jacket off. He noticed her stealing peeks at his left forearm, with its elaborate tattoo, once or twice.

Finally, rubbing the cloth around the large ceramic platter—not silver, like the one in the china closet at Baird’s Cover—Mac cleared his throat. “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

“Is it about Pearl?”

“Why doesn’t she like us?”

Mac half-expected her to deny it, to pretend that everything was polite and happy. Any other lady—any other hostess—would have lied. But he should have known better; Becks Middleton was nothing like the other Charleston ladies he’d met over the years.

“Pearl… doesn’t like change. She’s a worrier and has a good imagination to back it up.”

“She’s worried about us?”

Becks glanced at him, and then returned her attention to the plates in her soapy basin. A bit too intently to be convincing, Mac thought. “You showed up in the middle of the night—twice now—and won’t tell us why you’re here, or what you want. I think she has a right to be worried.”

“I won’t hurt you, Becks.”

Her chin lifted at those words, and she slowly turned to face him. Serious blue eyes—not nearly as pale as they’d been in the sunlight this afternoon—stared at him for longer than he felt comfortable. “Maybe, Mr. Baird. But you
have
to admit that we’ve got reason to be suspicious.”

“We’re not here to hurt any of you. Pearl…”

“Pearl’s hissy fit might not have been polite, but—”

“You didn’t hear what she said to Robert upstairs.” Mac heard the bitterness lacing his tone, but didn’t apologize. Pearl’s words had hurt
him
... he could only imagine how they hurt Robert.

Becks sighed, and suddenly looked frail. “Mr. Baird…”

“Mac, please.”

“Mac…” She placed the last plate on the towel beside her, and he reached for it without thinking. He was rubbing the cloth around the edges of the porcelain when she finished drying her hands and began to untie the apron around her waist. “Things are different here at Beckett.”

“Different from what?”

“From your home. From Charleston plantations. Edisto is… we do our own thing here.”

He stacked the plate with the others, and tossed the towel over his shoulder. “My home is a schooner sixty feet long. I share it with three other men, and I promise you that it’s very different from Beckett.”

“Robert is your friend?”

“Yes.” He didn’t elaborate. After the way Pearl had treated Robert, Mac wanted to keep his friend safe.

“Pearl is my sister, Mac.” Becks started to roll her sleeves down her forearm, and he found that he missed the sight of that golden skin. “She’s half a year younger than me. My father…” She swallowed. “My parents didn’t much care for each other, and as soon as my mother was breedin’, he went elsewhere.” A flush rose on her cheeks, but Mac didn’t comment. Her father’s actions were hardly unusual. “Pearl’s mother was a slave named Mimi. She’d already born my father two sons, and one was still alive then. My mother had a son, too, who’d caught the measles and died before I was born.”

She looked up at him then. “After I was born, my parents had an argument. Mother never told me what it was about, but…” She took a deep breath and held it. “This is her land. Her home. Her cousin got the original Beckett home, the one that burned years ago. But my mother grew up here, and it was her dowry. My father was…a difficult man to live with. And my mother doesn’t take kindly to being bullied. So I don’t know what that particular argument was about... But Father was apparently quite angry.” Her hands were clasped in front of her, the knuckles white. “He couldn’t touch my mother, but he hurt Mimi badly. Pearl was born early, and Mimi didn’t survive.”

Mac crossed his arms and propped his hip against the work table, wondering what she was trying to tell him. When she asked, “Do you know what milk-sisters are?” He nodded. Of course he did. He and Ramsey had both been nursed by one of the slaves at Baird’s Cove so that their mother didn’t have to.

Becks took a deep breath, and he felt like she was about to impart a secret. “My mother nursed both of us, Mac. My father had fathered another child on a slave, and had killed that slave, but she wasn’t going to let Pearl die, too. She freed her and nursed her and kept her safe from my father. Her brother died before the year was out—I don’t know from what, she never said. But Pearl has been my sister since before I knew what sisters were.”

He realized she’d been ringing her hands, as though confessing some deep secret. He didn’t know what to say in response, so he kept his mouth shut. He’d always guessed that Eugenia was a remarkable woman, but he’d never known just how eccentric she really was. Freeing a half-white baby hadn’t been unheard of back before the war, if the master had a conscience and knew his duty. He’d even heard of a few mistresses who did it. But to nurse that baby? To treat it like your own? He didn’t think there was anyone else out there who would have done that. He wondered why she’d made that decision.