The Flame and the Flower (42 page)

The business was concluded and the two men rose and clasped hands. Brandon stood thoughtfully as he watched the family depart, then sank again to his chair and poured himself another glass of Madeira.

A rather attractive woman with a daringly low gown, flaming red hair and heavily rouged lips got up from her chair where she had sat eyeing Brandon for some time with bold appraisal. The sight of his bulging money purse had not dampened her spirits, and she moved forward now with a sensuous gait and stood pointedly by an empty chair at his table, letting the sleeve of her gown fall over her shoulder.

"Hello, guv'na," she purred. "Care to buy a lonesome lady a drink?"

Brandon raised a cold expression to her gaze. "I'm afraid I'm occupied elsewhere this evening, madam," he replied. "Please excuse me."

He gestured her away abruptly and she turned in a huff and stalked off, and George, having seen the woman's interest earlier, smiled to himself and gave a sigh of relief. Since disembarking from the
Fleetwood
a month ago, he had watched his captain turn away one strumpet after another and retire to his room alone. Tomorrow they would be leaving for home and he would be returning to a wife too far along with child to ease his manly discomfort, yet not one woman had he taken to bed nor touched since arriving here. Having discovered a new respect for his captain, George nodded his head.

"Aye, the cap'n's been stung, and deeply too. The little mum has wiggled into his heart without his knowin' and there he sits adreaming of her while willing wenches parade before him. Aye, poor cap'n. He'll never be the same again."

George lifted his mug toward his captain as if in toast and set it to his lips in a long draught. Brandon rose from his table, unmindful of his presence, and the last the servant saw of him, he was mounting the stairs to his room.

Brandon closed the door of his room behind him and slowly began to undress for bed, his thoughts now centered on only one thing. He took off his shirt and dropped it over the back of a chair and gazed at himself in a long mirror which stood in a corner of the room. He saw a rather handsome man return the perusal and flex rugged muscles. The image inhaled deeply and Brandon looked with some satisfaction at the tall, broad shouldered, slim waisted figure before him, but he turned away in exasperation.

"Damn," he thought. "I'm not so ugly that even a pretty wench would lightly refuse my bed. How can I approach that vixen when she so despises the very image of my face that she cannot accept the small thought of me slumbering by her side?"

He strolled thoughtfully across the room.

"I've known wenches here and abroad. Why does this simple one strike wisdom from my skull and make of me a bumbling fool? I've bade the most haughty spread their thighs and gladly they complied as if the greatest favor of the world I did them. But when I'm before Heather, phrases flee my tongue and leave me groveling as in a gutter for my words."

He strode to the window and stood gazing out, knowing that within the block many a warm bed waited, and his hunger grew, but it was not for them out there. It was for in part a memory and in part a gentle dream he carried within him. His thoughts grew tender as he remembered golden candlelight upon creamy, silken flesh still moist from an evening's bath and dark, softly curling hair flowing across a pillow as she slept, and his thoughts brought dreams to mind of how those sweet and gentle arms might feel about his neck and of how those full, pink lips might press against his and how her warm, young body might curve to him and small, white teeth would nibble at his ear to rouse his passions.

He turned away from the window and struck his fist into his hand in mute frustration.

"My Lord!" he thought. "That quiet virgin denies me and my very soul crumbles. What affliction besets me that I should tremble so?"

He seized a glass and poured himself a drink and sank into a chair to consider further his problem.

"I have not bedded another woman since that night they dragged her through my cabin door. This Heather, this tiny purple flower from the moors, has dined upon my heart and now it grows within her and I have no more a heart to share. But my heart, thou hast betrayed me deep. You have closed all doors but one and that I slammed in anger. My God, that I should love her so! I thought that simple emotion was below me. I thought that I had transcended that which other men declare. I drew myself the worldly gentleman, above these simple words of men, that I could casually accept a wife of well experienced joys. But now I find myself so stricken with the innocence of that one, that I cannot rouse myself to seek relief in someone else's bed."

He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and hung his head.

"And even when I forced her maidenhood, she served my pleasure well, more than any woman ever. She took my seed within her and betrayed me not with another man and from that first moment I clutched her to me, has held my every thought so tightly that even in my sleep I dream of nothing else but her and that her good favors might turn to me."

He raised his head and sat back. He sipped his drink slowly and formed a new resolve.

"Her time grows near," he mused. "I'll bide my moment carefully. I'll play the suitor and court her tenderly and then perhaps she'll come to me."

He finished his drink and rose and went to bed, and with the realization of his love and new resolve, for the first time in many months sank quickly into slumber.

The rain pounded down upon Harthaven and clouds hung low above the trees. The night was black and silent as if the rest of the world had already withdrawn and curled itself in some cozy nest against the storm.

Heather gazed about the room and saw that she had removed all traces of her presence here. She had spent these many nights in this great chamber and had grown to know it and feel a part of it. She stood looking down at the huge bed which seemed to welcome her and felt a pang that she must leave it now and return to the smaller bed in the sitting room. She sighed pensively and slowly made her way into the other room. The door of the nursery was open and taking a candle, she went to inspect it once again. She ran her finger lightly over a rocking horse that had been Brandon's as a child and went to stand beside the crib and smooth the blanket in it.

"Strange, we all assume that the child will be a boy." She fluffed the lace on the canopy. "Of course my husband has declared it so, and who will deny his right to wish a son?" She smiled to herself, thinking how she had once prayed for a girl. "Poor daughter, if you grow within my belly; seek your finer pleasures now for blue will be your maiden's color."

She turned and with a last slow look about, wandered from the nursery, through the sitting room and returned once more to the master bedroom where a fire glowed cheerfully on the hearth. She relaxed before its warmth in a large overstuffed chair and stared with pensive mood into the flames. She sighed and thought of Brandon's return in the next few days. His brief letter to her some weeks ago had been curt and mentioned only his approximate day of homecoming.

What would his manner be? Would he be more gentle or perhaps more temperamental? Had he found some northern wench to ease himself upon? He'd given her, his wife, that other bed and other room...

"He could not stand the sight of me before," she thought sadly. "Now I'm plump with child, ill-shaped and so clumsy in my moves I must waddle more like the goose than a feminine woman. I will not blame him for his distant mood when he sees my swollen shape."

She leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

"Oh Brandon, would that I had been more tender when I had the chance, perhaps I'd share your bed and would soon feel your warmth again beside me. I would be sure no other bed you'd share."

She looked again into the fire and felt a flare of anger within her.

"What sultry trollop has he chosen to pass the time with? Was it a sweet, simpering thing he cajoled to keep him warm in the north?"

Her temper softened some.

"I would have never seen this land, this house, these kind and gentle souls I've met, had not the fates decreed my maidenhood should be the price! I've but to make the best of it and when this child has come and I regain my former worth, then I shall ply my woman's wiles to gain my husband."

She wrapped her arms about her and grew warm in memories. That moment at the inn when he had seemed so tender, almost loving, and on the ship, his careful tending of her person. And even with Louisa he did deflect the more cruel blows and played the lover dear.

"Is it possible," she wondered, "that somewhere beneath that scowling brow he does harbor some loving thoughts of me? If I would be the gentle, devoted wife, could he some time begin to love me? Oh, dearest love, and I do love thee, could you be in truth my husband, loving me above all others? Would you take me in your arms and caress me as a lover would? Oh Lord, I tremble at the thought that he would find me all that he should ever want."

The fire had burned low. She rose and by its softened glow stood beside the great and tempting bed once more.

"And you, oh lovely resting place, will soon feel my weight again, I vow. You'll not seem so lonely long for I will tempt him to my ends which are the same as yours, to be shared, to be loved, to be gently courted as if a maiden still. Oh, he will bend and time will be my friend. I'll let my patience mend the bleeding wounds we share until they are no more and he will seek my comfort, my love forever more."

She sighed and returned to the sitting room. She thought of it as the sitting room now, only temporarily hers until she took her rightful place. She sought her bed and bravely courted sleep.

Leopold and a wagon and team had been taken into town several days before to be left with friends against Brandon's return. The day was one of the few sunny ones they had had so far, and Heather had taken the opportunity to go to the cookhouse and chat with Aunt Ruth and learn more of the strange Yankee foods and those dishes which were Brandon's favorite. She sat on the stool, sipping tea that the old woman had prepared for her and listened intently as the Negress described some of her methods of preparing foods, impressed by the fact that with Aunt Ruth it was more a matter of talent and artistry than of actual knowledge. She seemed to know instinctively how foods and herbs would taste when blended and could make even a simple dish a true adventure of flavor.

The pleasant moment was interrupted by shouts from afar and soon Hatti bustled in breathlessly exclaiming:

"Master Bran—Master Bran's coming lickety split down the back road! He-he," she giggled. "He's in such a hurry he's gonna run that black horse into the ground."

Heather's eyes widened and she gasped as she slid from the stool. Her hands flew to her hair and then to her gown and she seemed horrified.

"Oh, I must look a fright!" she cried. "I've got to..."

She turned without finishing and fled to the house and as she labored up the stairs, she called for Mary. The girl came running and was there when she flung open the door to the sitting room. Breathlessly Heather bade the servant lay out a fresh gown and hurried to press a cold, wet cloth to her face and pinch her cheeks to bring the color forth. She yanked her dress off, and as Mary hastened to fasten the selected gown of yellow muslin, she urged her on.

"Hurry, Mary! Hurry! Brandon is coming! He'll be here shortly!"

She smoothed her hair, dressed and hurried down the stairs and outside to stand casually on the porch and see her husband slowly walk Leopold down the lane. The heaving sides of the horse and heavy froth upon his glistening coat belied the leisurely gait, for Brandon had pushed the mighty steed to the limit in his eagerness to regain his young bride. Now he approached the porch and dismounted with deliberate slowness. He handed the reins to a boy with instructions to walk the horse well and rub him down and be careful of the water. All this done, he turned to his wife and a slow smile grew upon his face. His eyes moved over her as he mounted the steps, taking in every detail, and slipping an arm about her waist, he greeted her and placed a somewhat fatherly kiss upon her lips. She smiled sweetly in reply and leaned against him lightly as they went into the house.

"Did you have a good trip?" she questioned softly as he passed his hat to Joseph. "The weather was so bad here I was quite worried about you."

His arm tightened about her. "No need to have fretted, sweet. We beat the worst of it into New York and had no problems coming back. How have things been here? Did you get the nursery finished?"

She nodded quickly, her eyes shining. "Would you care to see it?"

"I would indeed, sweet," he replied.

Smiling brightly, she took his arm and let him assist her up the stairs. He contemplated her stomach as she climbed.

"Have you been well?" he inquired.

"Oh yes," she hurried to assure him. "I've been in the best of health. Hatti says she's never seen a mother-to-be more fit, and I do feel wonderful." She looked down rather ruefully at her belly as they reached the landing and laughed a little in apology. "Though I'm afraid I'm a bit of a sight and not very light upon my feet."

He chuckled and put his arm around her again as he brought her chin up for their gaze to meet. "I hardly expected you to look like a prim little virgin while you carried my son, sweet. But even so burdened, you'd make many a slimmer maid turn green with envy over your glowing beauty."