Samantha James (2 page)

His mother had loved flowers.

Beside him there was a swish of skirts. The first maid sidled up between him and Christopher. “Hope you enjoyed your meal, gents.” She glanced between them, her eyes dark and suggestive.

Ever the gentleman, Christopher proclaimed heartily, “Why, thank you, mistress. Indeed, you may pass our compliments on to the cook. The bread was fragrant and warm, the round of beef tender and well-seasoned.”

She smiled and wet her lips. “My name’s Nell,” she offered. “Yer English, the two of you, aren’t ye?”

“Aye, we certainly are.” Christopher rose and gave a mock bow. “I am Sir Christopher Marley, and this is Gabriel Sinclair, the newly titled earl of Wakefield.”

Nell’s eyes widened. She dipped a curtsy—but not without another display of bountiful flesh—a calculated move, Gabriel thought, nodding in acknowledgement.

“Well, just so ye know, Nell here don’t hold a grudge against ye Englishmen. We’ve had a few put up here at Black Jack’s since the war ended. And real gents they were, not like some we get around here.”

Gabriel smiled politely. He inclined his head toward the other barmaid. “Who is the other girl?”

Nell’s smile faded. “Oh, that’s Cassie. Her mum was one of the barmaids here years back.” She
winked. “All o’ Charleston knew her mum was a lightskirt—and not one for the same man two nights in a row, if ye know what I mean. Wasn’t long before she ran off and left her brat here. And still the girl’s got the nerve to put on airs, she does!—just ’cause she talks better ’n me. But that’s only ’cause Bess taught her. Bess was once a lady’s maid, y’know.”

Gabriel nodded. “I see. And who is Bess?”

“Was,” Nell corrected. “Died a month past birthin’ her babe, she did. Why, she and Cassie were tight as a babe on a mother’s tit!”

Her mouth turned down when she saw Gabriel’s eyes still fastened on the subject in question. She sniffed disdainfully. “Not enough arse to keep a man’s backside warm. And not much topside either, if you ask me.”

So saying, she tossed her head. Boldly she ran a fingertip along the collar of Christopher’s waistcoat. “In case ye be wantin’ anythin’ else, just ask for Nell.”

When she was gone, Christopher gave a dry laugh. “Dear Lord. Never say she is not eager.”

Gabriel quirked a brow. “Or particular, it would seem.” He nodded; Christopher turned his head just in time to see Nell snared about the waist by a heavy-jowled man near the entrance. He pulled her down hard onto his lap. Nell laughed and twined her arms about his neck. The man plunged his hand into her bodice, openly fondling her breast. Gabriel found the display unusually distasteful.

Just then the girl called Cassie emerged from the kitchen. Christopher’s gaze flitted to her as well.
His smile faded. “Can you imagine? Her mother left her on her own? A child yet?” He shook his head, his expression suddenly very somber.

Gabriel stretched out his long legs beneath the rough-planked table. This part of Charleston was hardly a pretty place. There were cows and horses everywhere, even in the narrow alleys; the residents had no qualms about dumping garbage wherever they pleased. It was no wonder the streets were slimy and stinking. If what Nell had said was true, the girl was one of Charleston’s own, the product of a hard life.

“Her plight is regrettable, aye,” he agreed. “But we’ve children living in the streets of London, too, poor and starving with nowhere to go in the cold of winter or dead of night.”

Christopher clapped him on the shoulder, saying lightly, “Why, Gabriel, I’d no idea you were even aware of such things. Perhaps there’s hope for you yet.”

Nearby there was a gust of laughter. Gabriel turned his head slightly. It appeared the men at the next table had decided to have a bit of fun with the girl Cassie, who was attempting to refill their tankards of ale while trying to avoid their groping hands.

“Aw, come on now, girlie. Let’s have a look at what yer hidin’ in there!”

Another snorted. “Why bother? ’Tis plain there’s not nearly so much there as Nell—”

“But I vow what’s there is a tad prettier than Nell. Aye, as round as a plump peach, with cherry-red nipples…” The man made squeezing motions with his fingers.

There was a burst of ribald laughter. Roving fingers plucked at the pointed thrust of her breast. “Aye, that’s the way!” came a voice from still yet another table. “Give a little twist and see what she’s got!” Someone slid a hand over the roundness of her buttocks, giving her a pinch. When she jumped, three of them roared while another leered in avid anticipation.

Gabriel started to lift his tankard to his lips, still a silent observer. Certainly he was not offended, for such bawdiness was commonplace in establishments such as this. Indeed, the banter was sometimes far worse at his club in London. As for the girl, certainly she was no stranger to it either. Aye, no doubt she liked it. Most of her kind did…

No. He was wrong. A burly sailor caught a fistful of her skirt. She yanked it away and whirled around. Though she said not a word, for an instant hate blazed keenly in her eyes. Hate? Slowly Gabriel lowered his tankard to the table. No. Surely not. Surely he’d been mistaken, he thought with a faint curl of his lip. Likely as not, the girl was a doxy just like the other…

Cassie McClellan slammed the tray down on the long work table in the kitchen. God, but she hated this! The smell of sweat and ale. Groping male hands and wet lips. She shuddered. It was disgusting, the way they pawed and grabbed. She’d far rather peel and chop onions, scald her fingers fetching hot kettles, even scrub the floors until her hands were raw and burning than return to that noisy hellhole. The very thought made her belly clench in dread.

But Black Jack was ever determined to please his customers—no matter their treatment of his barmaids. She shuddered, experiencing anew the feel of grasping hands and pinching fingers. Lord, but she hated those swine! They sought respite from their troubles in drink—and sport from those who served it.

And then, tonight there was
him
, the dark-haired one in the corner. Staring at her. Watching her.

Oddly, it was that she hated most. Knowing he watched while those awful men pinched and fondled her only deepened her shame and humiliation…and her anger. The soft line of her lips compressed. Had he been amused by it? Had he secretly laughed? Oh, but the nerve of the man!

Still, she could not help but wonder who he was, he and his friend. A wealthy captain and mate of a vessel berthed in the harbor? Low-country planters? Well-to-do merchants traveling through Charleston? Black Jack himself, in a rare moment, had seen to the supper preparations and served them their meal. That alone proclaimed them men of some stature.

Wiping her hands on a length of rag, she cast a furtive glance through the swinging double doors into the taproom. It was hard to see through the smoky haze, but sure enough, Black Jack was again at their table.

The double doors opened with a swish. Nell sauntered in, her braid askew, the shoulders of her dress rumpled and sagging from her shoulders. Cassie hastily averted her gaze. Nell looked as if she’d just crawled from someone’s bed.

She gave a tittering laugh. “Sakes, can you imagine? An English earl stayin’ here at Black Jack’s! Ye saw him, didn’t ye, girl, the two gents in the far corner? The black-haired one, ’e’s the earl. Wickedly handsome, he is. Gives me shivers right down to me very toes, he does.”

She dumped half a dozen dirty tankards into the washbasin. “I’ve never seen such hands on a man—so clean, even his nails, mind ye! And that coat he’s wearin’…did you see it, Cassie? Made of velvet, it is! ’Course I don’t know why I’m rattlin’ on so about his clothes—it’s what’s beneath that interests me far more!” She let out a gusty laugh.

Cassie said nothing, but inside she winced. Nell was one such as her mother had been; she oft loved unwisely and too well. But while her mother had been far too free with her favors, Cassie had long ago vowed she’d not make the same mistake. Ducking the sides of ham and beef curing from the beam, she stepped before the pantry. With her back to Nell, she did her best to ignore her, placing several clean tankards back into the cupboard.

Nell paid no heed. “And the other one—Sir Christopher Marley, he called himself—why, he’s almost as handsome as the earl! In fact, I’m feeling very generous tonight, Cassie. Sir Christopher Marley is yours!” She gave a cackling laugh. “Ah, but you wouldn’t know what to do with a man such as he, would ye now, love?”

Cassie flushed, which made Nell laugh all the harder. Would she never get used to Nell making light of her? Oh, if only she could walk through
the door and never return! And as for the earl, it mattered little to her whether he was the king of England, or master of a dung heap!

Black Jack hammered the doors open with beefy fists. Big, burly, and shaggy-haired as he was, Cassie had long ago decided his sour disposition had earned him his name. “What the blazes are the two of ye doin’?” he demanded. “Get yer lazy bums back where ye belong! We’ve customers waitin’!” His eyes lit on Cassie. “You,” he growled. “Take a bottle of brandy to the two gents at the back table. Use the best crystal.”

Nell wheeled about eagerly. “Oh, there’s no need for Cassie to burden herself,” she said brightly. “I’ll serve it—”

“Not you, Nell.
Her
.” He jerked his head toward Cassie.

Cassie had gone utterly still. A flash of alarm surged within her. Serve
him
? The one who stared so boldly? Cassie was well aware Nell had not made the offer out of any goodwill on her part—indeed, she was undoubtedly looking forward to warming the gent’s bed tonight, which was just fine with Cassie.

Nervously she wet her lips. “It matters little to me if Nell—”

“Ah, but it does to me!” There was a long row of copper pans and utensils hanging from a beam. Cassie flinched when he grabbed a wooden spoon and shook it threateningly. “I said you, missy, not her! Now get to it ’fore I lose my patience. Smile and be nice to the gents—and stop trying to hide your bosom!”

Scalding tears burned Cassie’s eyes. She damned Black Jack, even as she damned herself for her weakness. Blindly she reached for a bottle of brandy and Black Jack’s best crystal goblets from the pantry. She tried to assure herself it was foolish to be so reluctant; after all, it wasn’t as if she hadn’t done this a thousand times before. And surely these two could be no worse than any of the others.

Mustering her courage, she pushed through the double doors and back out into the noisy taproom. Boisterous shouts hailed her return. Ignoring the coarse calls and snatching hands, she weaved her way through and around tables toward her destination.

Her steps slowed as she approached. She was but a few paces distant when the black-haired one, the earl, turned his head.

Their eyes locked.

For Cassie, it was as if a bolt of lightning zigzagged through her. Rampant in her mind was the urge to turn and run, as far and fast as she could. Why it was so, she did not know.

But for a timeless instant, she could not move. What was it Nell had said?
Wickedly handsome, he is
. But of the two,
wicked
was the one etched sharply in her brain.

Oh, there was no denying his handsomeness, by far and away. In all her days, Cassie had never seen a man’s face so arrestingly pleasing to the eye. High cheekbones slanted above clean-shaven cheeks; his jaw was flawlessly chiseled, and all in perfect proportion. His hair was black as a crow’s wing, and cropped rather short; dark, tousled curls fell across his forehead in a style unlike any Cassie
had ever seen before. Yet for all its perfection, his was a face of supreme masculinity.

Yet she sensed a harshness within him, a harshness borne out by the unsmiling cast of his mouth. Set beneath winged black brows, his eyes were like pale frost, as cold and piercing as frozen glass.

Cassie was the first to look away. She swallowed, forcing her feet to do her bidding and close the remaining distance between them. All the while he stared at her through eyes of burning silver, as if he chose to see all that she would keep hidden. Nell was right, she thought on a note of panic. He gave her the shivers, but it was scarcely a pleasant sensation.

“Here you are, sirs.” It was by no means an accident that she stationed herself next to the fair-haired gent Nell had called Christopher Marley. Quickly she set the crystal goblets before them.

Christopher Marley smiled up at her. “You are Cassie, are you not?”

Cassie reluctantly met his gaze, only to breathe a silent but profound sigh of relief. Instinct alone told her that his was a presence not nearly so threatening as his friend’s. He had kind eyes, and a warm and gentle smile. “Yes, sir,” she murmured. “Cassie McClellan.”

“And is Cassie short for Cassandra?”

“Aye,” she nodded. “But no one has ever called me anything but Cassie.” Feeling more at ease, she ventured a faint smile.

His own deepened. “I must admit, Cassie does suit you.” He leaned back in his chair, surveying her curiously. “Has Charleston always been your home, Cassie?”

Cassie’s smile withered. Home? She had no home, for she scarcely considered the cramped, tiny room in the attic where she slept with Nell her home. In truth, it was the one great wish that preyed longingly on her mind. She and Bess had oft dreamed of saving their coin that they might buy a cottage of their own; there they would sew for fine ladies since they were both well skilled with a needle. It needn’t matter if it were but a single room; what mattered was that they need not answer to anyone but themselves.

Bess, she thought with a pang. Dear, sweet Bess. Though not so very much older than herself, Bess had been far more mother to her than her own. She had taken her in, protected her, and watched out for her when no one else had cared.

A bitter darkness stole into her heart. No, she thought again. She had no home of her own, nor was it likely she ever would.

Her lashes dropped. She set her attention to removing the stopper from the bottle of brandy. “Aye,” she said quietly. “I’ve lived in Charleston all my life.” She smiled slightly. “Indeed, I’ve never been outside of the city.”