“Plan? What plan?”
“Transport to the colonies.”
Shannon’s eyes widened and the manacles clinked together as she brought her hands to either side of her pale cheeks. She wanted to press her palms against her ears to silence William, but the chains thwarted her. “No! I want none of it.”
William stepped in front of Shannon and circled her wrists with his thick fingers, drawing her hands away from her face. “I know that, Shannon. His lordship knew it also. It is why I was sent. I am carrying out his orders. D’you see? I have no choice.” He paused and added gently, “And neither do you.”
“I do! I do have a choice!” She tried to pull away but William held her fast. “I want to die! I want it!” Her voice rose hysterically, but it was only when William shook her that she became aware of it.
“You must come with me now. The earl has arranged everything.”
“Oh, no! Please, William, do not make me go!” Her throat, thick with the urge to cry, burned and ached. “Does no one understand? I do not want to live!”
William, who had never been closer than arm’s length to Shannon, now hugged her to him. He was shocked to hear her speak so, yet his features were stolid, showing nothing. “You don’t mean it, Shannon dear. Later you’ll be thankin’ the earl for his foresight. Just see if you don’t.” He let her sob against his chest until she was spent. When she quieted he did not release her. William spoke quietly and firmly, explaining the situation as the earl had instructed him. “In a few minutes you will be joining the other prisoners preparing for transport. I will ride along with the guards to make certain you arrive at the ship safely, and you will board theCenturywith everyone else. His lordship has done what he could to assure himself that you will be treated with fairness and dignity. He has already sent a packet to Mr. Fleming in Virginia that explains your circumstances. With luck it will arrive before you do, and Fleming will meet your ship at Jamestown. He will purchase your papers, Shannon, and the Crown will be satisfied that you are indentured and serving your sentence. But you will be free, m’dear.”
“I do not want—”
William set Shannon from him. “Shhh. It matters not. I can do no less than I have been instructed to do. And you, Shannon? Would you fly in the face of the earl’s wishes?”
Shannon shook her head. Obedience and respect of nobility’s commands had been an integral part of her upbringing. It was as natural as breathing to fall in with the earl’s plans. Her own desires were secondary. “I will do as I am told.”
William’s hands dropped from Shannon’s manacled wrists. He smiled encouragingly. “Of course you will.” He reached into his jacket pocket, fumbled a bit, and then withdrew his hand. “His lordship asked me to give you this.” He opened his palm and showed Shannon her locket.
Tears welled in her eyes and she rapidly blinked them away. “Oh! He’s had the clasp repaired! You will thank him for me, won’t you?”
“I will,” he replied gravely. “If you’ll turn, I’ll fasten it for you.”
Shannon gave William her back and held her breath as he slid the newly polished necklace around her throat. She was aware of his fingers trembling as he fastened the clasp.
“It’s done.”
Shannon turned, pressing her hands over the locket. “Thank you, William.”
Her stalwart suitor flushed and stared at the floor. “I wish that things could have been otherwise,” he blurted suddenly.
Shannon’s answer was given gently. “I know that.”
He nodded. From the hallway William heard the progress of the guard as he announced himself with a jingling of keys. “It is time for us to go.” He stepped aside to allow Shannon to precede him out of the cell. At the door he paused. “Godspeed, Shannon.”
Shannon touched the rough sleeve of William’s jacket. He was a good man, she thought. Far better than she deserved in any circumstances. “I wish you every happiness, William.” When the door was opened she fell into line with the felons, and not once during the long, miserable journey to theCenturydid she glance in William Danvers’s direction again.
Chapter 3
May 1746
“Papa is taking me to Jamestown,” Clara Fleming announced importantly. “Do you want to come, Cody?”
“UncleCody.” Brandon absently corrected his three-year-old daughter.
“Unca Cody,” repeated Clara. She sat down on the padded three-legged stool at her uncle’s feet, hugging her cornhusk doll to the shirred bodice of her pink and white striped dress.
Cody Allen leaned forward in his chair and tugged playfully at the white cotton cap that hid most of the little girl’s carroty curls. His teasing was rewarded with a trill of musical giggles. He smiled indulgently, a captivating grin that had forced a sigh from more than one young maiden’s breast. He noted with a characteristic lack of concern that his niece was not similarly affected. She merely stared at him, tapping her foot impatiently as she awaited his answer. “Of course I want to come, infant. What is it that you will be doing in town?”
Clara lifted her heart-shaped face toward her uncle as Cody leaned back. Of all the men in her life, she loved Cody Allen second best. The pinnacle of her affection was reserved for her father. Cody occupied second place by virtue of the fact that he was one of two people who could coax a smile from her father. Clara herself was the other. “Papa has business,” she explained, reciting what she had been told. “And I may have a sweet if I am good or a new bonnet if I am better.” She glanced at her father, who was collecting papers from his desk and sliding them into a packet. “Isn’t that right, Papa?”
The corners of Brandon’s mouth twitched. “That’s right.”
Cody laughed. “Little mercenary. Bran, she has you wrapped about her finger.”
