He laughed softly. “Lady, you threaten so swiftly and so fiercely, when it is like a sparrow against a hawk!”
She looked away quickly at the word “hawk.” Roc grated his own teeth, looking to the shore. “Madame,” he said bluntly, “you will never best me. Cease to try, and we shall get along, I am sure. Truly, my every desire is to see to your comfort.”
“My comfort—upon your bed!” she spat out, then flushed furiously, and looked about for someplace to escape him. She could not believe that she had said the words! He was laughing at her again, but his brow was arched and there was a cynical note to the sound. He came close to her.
“Tell me, my love, what do you know of such things?”
“Nothing!” she cried, and pushed away from the rail. She looked to the shore. “Father—er—Father says that Alexander is very suspicious of Governor Eden. He says that his government is not just poor, but perhaps corrupt. That he lets pirates seek safe havens in his waters—for a price.”
“Many men have a price.”
“Tell me—do you?” she demanded quickly.
He shook his head very slowly. “No, milady. I have my faults. I suppose you would say that arrogance is among them, no doubt.”
“And a certain lack of humility?” she suggested sweetly.
“Maybe. But I cannot be bought. Not for any price. Remember that, milady. If you ever seek to—negotiate.”
He turned away. She was left alone at the rail, shivering despite the balmy warmth of the day.
When she awoke the next morning, they were sailing the Chesapeake Bay. She quickly dressed and ate, and came top-side, and by then they were coming down the James. There was tremendous energy and motion on board as seaman trimmed and drew in sails.
“Oh, how lovely, milady! Don’t ye think so!”
She turned about. Arm in arm, Bessie and Tara were staring at the shoreline. There eyes were rapt, and Skye realized that this was a dream for them. They had left behind poverty and cramped spaces in the Old World, and they were looking to the New. She smiled, for they stood arm and arm, and in awe. Skye smiled at the two of them. “It is something indeed,” she said agreeably.
She glanced to the helm. Lord Cameron himself was at the wheel, navigating the river. He did not look so much the seaman as the aristocrat. He was extremely proper in his queued wig, elegant brocade frockcoat, blue satin breeches, fawn hose, and silver buckled shoes. A dark velvet ribbon tied his queue while he wore an eagle-plumed three-cornered hat. Skye was not close to him, but yet she could sense the tension and energy about him. He stood so straight; he rode the ship so well. He looked to the land.
Then she felt him turn to her, as if by instinct. He stepped briefly from the wheel to bow to her.
Skye looked quickly back to the shoreline.
Not much later the order came down that a cannon should be fired.
Lord Cameron had come home.
Skye saw the house first. It was impossible to miss, for it sat high atop a hill. Built of brick, it was both elegant and imposing. Tall pillars seemed to reach to the heavens, and the whole of the building was surrounded by a broad, sweeping porch. There were outbuildings all around it, making it appear more like a small village than a residence. The house seemed massive, and perhaps even more so because of the bounty of land that surrounded it. The hill commanded the area with majestic deep green grasses rolling down from it all of the way to the river and the docks. On either side Cameron Hall was surrounded by trees. Far beyond, she could see the fields.
“My great-great-grandparents claimed it from wilderness.”
Startled, she swung around. The captain had left his helm to come by her side. “Jamie Cameron came as a lad first, sometimes exploring with John Smith. In 1621 he came over with his bride. There was a wooden palisade then, and his first home was built of wood. They were attacked by the Indians during the massacre at Easter in 1622. Jassy was kidnapped by the Indians.”
Skye smiled, looking his way. “Sir, I am well aware that we have pushed the Indians far inland. Are you trying to frighten me?”
“Never, my love.”
“I assume that your relative was rescued?”
“Of course. We Camerons love to rescue damsels in distress.” He pointed upward to the house. “You can see the main hall, there. That was the first section built. King James died, and Charles the First came to the throne. Then came the English Civil War. Eion Cameron went home to fight as a Cavalier. He died there battling Cromwell’s men. Some of our English holdings were lost, England was under the ‘Protectorate,’ and even our holdings in Virginia were in jeopardy. But then Cromwell died and good Charles the Second was invited to return to take up his crown. Eion’s son went and retrieved his body and his property. Eion is buried upon our slopes. His son, another Jamie, added on the east wing.” His grin deepened and he leaned toward her. “James the Second came to the throne upon his brother’s death, and Jemmy, Duke of Monmouth, Charles’s favorite bastard child, tried to take the throne, damning his uncle as a papist. Alas! Jemmy went to the block, and it’s quite possible that his uncle did not blink an eye. Still, he was rumored to be handsome and gallant, and he had many supporters. Many of them came here, to Cameron Hall. There are secret passages within the walls, and tunnels run away to the sea.”
“Ah! So the Camerons are known to harbor criminals!”
“Criminals? Never!” His eyes sparkled so that she discovered she had to smile in turn. “No criminals, madame, just those with visions different than some. Those passionate, and sometimes foolish, in their loyalties. There was little danger when he harbored Jemmy’s revolutionaries. You see, James the Second did not last long upon his throne. William of Orange was a dour fellow, so they say, but extremely bright. With James’s daughter Mary he started his own bloodless and ‘glorious’ revolution and between them and their very proper and Prostestant ways, they took the throne. And they were a tolerant pair. Alas, poor Mary died quickly, and then William, and then Queen Anne wore the crown, and now it is a German from Hanover. Meanwhile, over here, at Cameron Hall, we merely battle Indians and mosquitoes and disease, and we set sail from our coasts to battle the Spanish each time our reigning monarch declares us to be at war. We watched Jamestown burn, and burn again, and my father was delighted when they moved the capital to Williamsburg.”
“And you, Lord Cameron, what do you delight in?”
It was a leading question; one she shouldn’t have asked. He took her hand and kissed it slowly, meeting her eyes. “My love, I don’t remember. Since I have seen your face, I delight in your presence.”
