Chapter Six

Sunday evening, Crete out did herself for the meal−spareribs, boiled cabbage, fried potatoes and apple pie. Raine repressed a shudder when Derek broke with tradition and asked Crete to set a place for him at the kitchen table. She fidgeted in her chair and realized his presence unsettled her. Henry and Crete kept up the chatter and seemed delighted he had joined them.

At the end of the meal, Derek stretched his arms over his head and expressed his pleasure. "Delectable, Crete."

"I'm happy you joined us, sir." The woman's gratuitous smile bothered Raine for some odd reason. "Don't know why you eat at the big, old table by yourself," she added.

His smile dazzled Raine. "I'm accustomed to the practice, but this has been a nice change."

The man she met the first day she arrived at the manor—caring, protective, and amiable—had returned. Soon after she came here, the mirror of his soul had surfaced. She wouldn't allow herself to be taken in by him again, despite the raging battle between her brain and her heart.

Crete catered to the man as if a Roman god had entered her sanctuary. The poor woman didn't have the slightest inkling of the duplicity lurking beneath his cool demeanor. One day Raine would uncloak the master of disguise and wipe that smirk from his sensual mouth.

Derek pinned her with a challenging look, eyebrows raised, eyes locked on hers. "Raine has agreed to play for us tonight."

Agreed? Acquiesced under duress you mean.

Crete clasped her hands and smiled. "Nice to hear the sweet sounds of the piano again. We haven't been blessed since Mistress Lucinda, that is, before she took ill, and−"

Adept at changing the subject, Derek interjected, "An enchantress taught Raine to play."

If Henry and Crete sensed the undercurrents in the air, they didn't let on.

Another smile from Crete. "Whoever taught you, child, knew what they were about."

Easing onto the oak bench moments later, Raine bemoaned having to play for Derek's enjoyment. What choice did she have? She sailed through a trio of arrangements from well-known composers. Now and again, she glanced at her audience and found their eyes closed, their ears cocked toward the haunting notes.

Derek sat in one of the wingbacks near the fire, his head resting on the back of the chair. Raine finished her repertoire and rose to thunderous applause. With thudding heart, she thanked her grateful audience, excused herself, and headed for her room.

After undressing and donning her nightshift, she climbed beneath the covers more than ready for blessed sleep. On the cusp of twilight, the moment between wakefulness and slumber, visions of her grandfather surfaced. He beckoned her with outstretched arms, his clear, blue eyes clouded with tears. The man knew something was amiss. She had only to look at his distant face to see the truth. Closing her eyes, she willed the images away and drifted off.

In the morning, her sluggish brain recaptured the prophetic visions. Overcome with guilt, she paced the room, muttering to herself. "I did it for you, for us, and I pray you'll understand one day."

The floor squeaked outside her door, stopping her frantic gait, and then an envelope with her name on it slipped through the tiny opening near the floor. With mild irritation, she retrieved the missive and read the note. "I await you in the buggy."

She dashed to the window and looked down. Sure enough, the buggy sat in front of the manor on the cobblestone drive. She racked her brain. Of course, how could she have forgotten? Today was Monday.

Shredding the note in her hand, she walked to the armoire and selected a dark, woolen dress and heavy stockings. Dismal, nondescript clothing matching her mood. Somehow, she had to get through the day. Spending it with Derek, she didn't know how that was possible.

From the landing below, Crete's smile bolstered her. "I think you'll enjoy Miss LaGrange's dress shop. She's a fine seamstress, and you need new garments."

"Yes," she agreed a bit too curt.

"A fine idea our Master Derek suggested. Generous too."

Our Master Derek, indeed. Crete sounded as if he had one up on the archangel, Michael. "I assure you, it wasn't my idea; I tried to sway him from the notion." She put her arms out at her sides. "He asked me to be ready, so here I am."

Henry poked his head through the front door. "Mastah waitin' for ya, Missy."

"Thank you, Henry," she replied, doing her best to hide her angst.

Raine pulled her long cloak from the hook near the entry, tossed it over her shoulder and ventured outside. A biting wind stung her face, prompting her to pull the hood over her head.

Derek stood next to the transport and greeted her with outstretched arm. He looked virile in the black trousers and white shirt beneath his greatcoat. His dark hair glistened beneath the distant winter sun, and his blue eyes seemed a darker blue than she'd remembered.

The light scents of pine and tobacco drifted around her, mingling with the heady aroma of pure male. He assisted her onto the seat, walked around the carriage and settled in next to her.

Long minutes passed before he spoke. "We'll be there soon."

She nodded.

"Are you cold?"

Her words came out clipped. "I'll manage."

He removed his riding gloves and handed them to her. "I neglected to ask if you owned a pair." She pulled them over her hands, the sincerity in his tone confusing her. "I'd enjoy taking you to Norfolk when we've finished with Madelina."

"Whatever for?"

"You have your own funds now and I thought you might enjoy the shops." His voice softened. "Perhaps we'll dine in town."

"Out of the question. I told Crete to expect me back late morning."

"Pity. It appears we are at an impasse again. I informed her we would return in the afternoon." From the corner of her eye, she saw him raise a shoulder.

She turned away from him and studied the scenery. "I forgot how skillful you are at planning ahead."

In the close quarters, she felt his body tense. "Nine months is a long time to be dodging one another at every turn. I thought we might reach a level of civility."

He had a point, and she had agreed to this sham of her own accord. Life would be simpler if they could at least agree to a modicum of consideration. "Civility, yes, friendship, no."

He shrugged again and turned the bays left. A gust of wind sent the treetops swaying and swept the hood from her head. The dense forest they had entered held a sinister ambiance. A black crow preened its wings on the branch of a pine to her right and then took flight. How she wished she could soar away with him.

Derek pulled the buggy to a halt in front of a rickety dwelling where twisted vines clung to a dilapidated stoop. He descended, circled the transport and stretched out his hand. "We're here."

An unfamiliar emotion flitted through his eyes before he dropped his gaze. Second thoughts or a simple case of frayed nerves? Hanging by a thin thread herself, she hoped to find her strength from him.

Raine descended and looked toward the rustic dwelling. Chimney smoke swirled skyward before disappearing among the hardwoods and pines. Everywhere she looked, dark shadows danced, closing in like a smothering fog. Her throat tightened. Good Lord; don't let me faint.

"Are you all right?" Derek led her up the steps by an elbow.

She gave him a brief nod before he rapped on the door. Detached from reality, Raine stared at her feet. It's a dream, can't be real. What am I doing here? Her grandfather's face surfaced again, his lips moving in frantic prayer. It took every ounce of her strength to square her shoulders and stay put.

The door to the healer's dwelling opened and Raine's worst fears materialized. She had made a horrible mistake. The woman's long, white hair framed her wizened face. A pale complexion, piercing, slate-gray eyes and a pointed nose added to her mysterious aura. Madelina assessed them as if she was accustomed to looking down on mere mortals.

A smile magically transformed her sharp features, dispelling any thoughts on Raine's part to flee.

"Out of the cold, hurry," Madelina said, the mole above her upper lip moving with her universal cluck. With knobby hand, she pointed to the table and chairs in the kitchen, and then hobbled to the hearth. Returning with two mugs steaming with the pleasant aroma of ginger, Madelina set one before Raine and the other before Derek. The woman dropped into a chair across from Raine and nodded toward the cup. "Chamomile tea with a smidgen of ginger."

"Thank you," Raine replied with a timid nod.

"You've accepted Mister Stafford's offer of your own accord, is that right, girl?"

When her eyes darted about the room, Derek placed a hand on her forearm, squelching any foolish thoughts on her part. "Yes." She took a sip of tea to push the bile back down her throat. "I signed the contract."

"I'm not here to judge." Madelina paused. "Your morals or your reasons. Mister Stafford paid a healthy sum to employ me. I intend to do everything in my power to increase the odds of bringing forth a male child."

Raine took another sip, the tension in her taut muscles relenting some.

If I don't have your trust," she wiggled a finger, "the odds are reduced tenfold."

After another lengthy pause, Raine nodded. "I will heed your instructions."

Derek removed his hand from her forearm and rose to stand before the hearth.

"Very good," she said, the chair creaking from her weight as she leaned back. "Mister Stafford gave you the teas and the vial of oil?"

"Yes."

"Let's go over the instructions. Take three drops of the primrose in your tea, four times a day."

Rained nodded.

"For the next month, you must maintain a diet of red meat and salty food. Avoid leafy green vegetables and fruit," she added, her tone serious. "Once you are with child, you may eat whatever you fancy."

"What else?" Raine asked.

"The three consecutive nights you spend in Mr. Stafford's bedchamber are the most important."

Raine dropped her eyelids and focused on the swirling liquid in her cup. If only she could vaporize like chimney smoke.

"I know it's a delicate topic." Madelina reached across the table and patted her hand.

Her head came up. "It's a business arrangement, nothing more." From the corner of her eye, she saw a blur of motion when Derek craned his neck to look at them.

"Following your next menses, you'll take a tincture of false unicorn and black cohosh. I'll send the tincture with you today."

Her head swam. "For how long?"

"Fourteen days."

Lowering her voice, she leaned in so the woman would hear her. "My cycle occurs in four days."

"You are certain?"

She turned her head and watched Derek tap his fingers against the stones of the hearth. "Certain, yes."

"On the fourteenth, fifteenth and sixteenth days. You'll be most fertile then, and must drink the tea and oil we discussed moments ago." Madelina spoke with hesitation, for emphasis Raine assumed.

Her head full of instructions, she sent another look Derek's way, and he took the bait. Pulling a paper from his vest pocket, he sat down on the settee, using his thigh for a table.

Madelina pulled her bulky frame up and walked to a cupboard. Referring to a calendar in her hand, she emitted another series of clucks. "Very good, all is aligned."

Derek stopped writing and glanced up. "What is aligned?"

"The calendar marks two crescent moons on the fifteenth and sixteenth. Praise the stars."

Raine's head snapped up. "Did you say crescent moon?"

"Yes, some call it a quarter moon."

Raine placed her fingers at her temples and felt Derek's presence beside her. It's coincidence and nothing more," he said.

A wave of dizziness washed over her. Her mind journeyed back to a day in her childhood. When Grandfather removed his shirt to chop wood, she noticed a blue mark on his shoulder. Curious, she had risen from her perch and walked up to him. "Tis a quarter moon you have on your shoulder, Grandfather," she had said. "Aye, lass, 'tis a powerful omen from above," he had answered with a smile. "Proud I am to bear it, like my grandfather before me."

"Coincidence, yes," she lied.

Too astute to allow their words to bypass her, Madelina pressed for an explanation, piercing Raine with a knowing glare. "The crescent moon holds great significance for you?"

A whispered, "Yes," left her lips.

"And your grandfather, he bears the mark?"

"Why, yes, but―"

"Old woman." Derek interjected, his strained voice cracking. "Does the quarter moon affect the outcome?"

With her eyes still on Raine she replied, "Could enhance the outcome, sir."

Satisfied with her answer, Derek returned to the settee and began writing again.

"Will there be anything else?" Raine folded her hands and waited.

"You must remain in Mister Stafford's bedchamber until sunup," Madelina said. "And you must sleep on his left side."

A sardonic giggle escaped.

"Everything I tell you enhances the odds." She wagged a finger again. "If not, I could just as well prattle to the chickens outside."

Raine rolled her eyes.

With hands on hips, Madelina stared her down with the look of a lion about to tackle a gnu. Worse, Derek had risen from the settee again, his head cocked to the side, every step forward calculated. Good Lord, she had rattled two cages.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. I mean no disrespect."

After a firm nod from Madelina, Derek let out a long breath. "Anything else we should know?"

"I've asked Mister Stafford to bring you here now and again. When your time comes, I will come to the manor."

Raine pictured her bed surrounded by curious eyes and wagging tongues while she toiled through her labor. Madelina would send them scurrying into the corners with one look. "That would please me."

"This should too: I've delivered so many babes, I lost count decades ago. No harm will come to you or the child."

Raine blinked back tears and vowed not to cry. What did she expect? She made a deal with the devil's son and didn't deserve anyone's protection, physical or mystical.

Derek pulled her from the pitiful thoughts with a tug to her elbow. She stood on shaky legs, thanked Madelina again with her best false smile, and allowed him to lead her through the door.

Ten minutes passed before they spoke in the buggy. "What did you tell her about me?"

"Nothing, other than I intended to speak with you about the arrangement."

"I don't believe you."

"I swear; I told her nothing."

"How does she know about my grandfather then?"

Long moments passed. "I don't know. She is a mysterious creature."

Raine shifted on the seat, distancing herself from him. "That sounds strange coming from you."

"I've no wish to banter words with you, Raine. I give you my oath I have not discussed you with anyone other than my father."

She bristled.

"You're cold again."

"No, I'm-I'm...I have a headache."

"Have you eaten today?" When she didn't reply, he continued, "Warm food and perhaps a glass of port might help."

At the mention of food, her stomach rumbled. "Very well, but I want to go back to the manor following the meal."

Derek brought the buggy to a halt in front of an eating establishment and pointed to a mercantile a door away. "If you change your mind about shopping, let me know."

Lacking the energy to answer, she nodded. She would agree to anything that included satisfying her hunger pangs.

Raine ordered baked salmon, garnished with lemon and rubbed with a mild seasoning of basil and mint. Derek ordered roasted blue-wing duck, accompanied by cooked carrots. By the time coffee with thick cream arrived at the table, Raine felt full.

"Say goodbye to fish for a time," Derek said.

She frowned. "See, I'll never remember."

"I'll help you."

"I'm certain you'll delight in that endeavor. Tell me, what must you give up?"

He looked around the room and repositioned himself in the chair, distressed by her question.

"I didn't think so, but I'm sure you'll be happy to tell me, 'do this, don't do that, eat this, don't eat that.'"

His laughter cut through the room. She smiled too knowing how childish she sounded.

"I won't remind you, then. In any event, I wrote it down." He pulled the paper from his vest pocket and handed it to her. "Since this type of conversation upsets you, let's talk about something else."

"Such as?"

"Oh, I don't know—the weather, horse breeding, growing tobacco―"

"I know nothing about those topics."

His smile left her dizzy. "All right. Tell me about Maine, the place you call home."

"Hmm. Camden is a coastal town, and beautiful. We harvest lime and ice, and most of the residents make their living building ships."

"There, you see, we do have something in common. Ships." He smiled again and Raine wondered if a person could fall in love with a smile and not the person.

"What were you like as a child?"

She tried her best to send him a cold look and met him with silence. He had intruded on her future, but she would not allow him to trespass into her past.

"Very well." He shrugged. "Let's talk about your grandfather again."

"I have nothing to add about him that would interest you."

Their eyes met. "Everything about you interests me, Raine."

Alarms went off and for a moment, she wondered if the building had caught fire. She realized seconds later; the warning bells were in her head. "Don't toy with me. If what you said is true, I'd like you to pretend you find me―"

"Beautiful, exquisite, witty? But I wouldn't be pretending."

"Are we talking about traits you hope will manifest in an heir again?"

"Why wouldn't a man want his daughter to possess such traits?"

A caustic tone laced her words. "You have your heart set on a boy."

"Do I?" His brow furrowed and he changed the subject. "I'd enjoy meeting your grandfather one day."

I cannot do this, will not fall for his seductive charms. The words rang in her head like a litany, business arrangement...business arrangement. "Pity you will never be given the opportunity." She enjoyed watching his face transform into a scowl.

Placing his hands behind his head, he rocked back in the chair. "You are good, very good at this. And I thought we had reached a truce."

"I told you before, civility yes, friends no. You intrude by asking about those I love."

He nodded several times and scrunched his lips together. "There is another matter I wish to discuss."

"Proceed," she replied with detached interest.

"I want you to stop masquerading as a servant in my manor."

"Do you now?" She felt her cheeks burn. "I hate to disappoint the lord and master, but for one, Crete would become suspicious should I retire my apron, and number two, I expect you to abide by our agreement." She leaned toward him, drew the words out, and took special delight when a tic developed along his jaw line. "I will continue to serve the manor, and you," she added for drama. "You, Mister Stafford, will continue to pay me fifteen dollars a month in addition to the ten thousand dollars."

Like, her, he leaned forward until their foreheads almost touched. "You are good at sparring, but make no mistake, I'm better. Much better. Now, if you're done severing me at the knees, allow me to escort you home."

"Quite done." She rose from the table with the sweetest smile she could dredge up with her scrambled wits. "I am ready now."

After paying the check, Derek handed her the pair of kid leather gloves, and they were off again. The silence on the ride home was staggering. She couldn't wait to get back to the manor to seek out the comfort of her bedchamber.

Raine bolted from the buggy the moment the horses came to a halt. She took the stairs two at a time and bolted through her door, closing it behind her. Plopping into the chair under the window, unbidden tears claimed her.

How hard it was to admit that every moment beside him in the buggy was pure torture. At every turn, she imagined him holding her, kissing her. Beset by a need so strong, a longing so deep, she wanted to dissolve like mist whenever he looked at her. The devastating smile, the depthless eyes, and powerful body had consumed her every thought. She suspected he knew it. Too late to run from the wicked man. She had signed the contract, and Derek Stafford would follow her to the gates of hell to make her honor it.

Raine buried her head in her hands and wept.