The Vow (43 page)
Hannah gave him an icy, disapproving stare. “David, I would like to see you in the study in five minutes. Brush those crumbs off your chin and make yourself presentable.”
She ignored his stunned expression and left.
Five minutes later Davey appeared at the study door, his hair combed and no sign of cookie crumbs decorating his chin.
“Mama, why are you acting like Papa?” he asked.
She indicated the chair opposite her desk. “Because while Papa is away, I am the head of the Shaw family. I’ve decided that it’s time you grew up and assumed your rightful place as a future heir to Shaw Silks.”
Davey looked puzzled. He obviously relished the idea of being treated as his older brother’s equal, but as for the rest of it…
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Hannah said, “You will start by assisting Mr. Torelli in the dyeing shed.”
Davey wrinkled his nose. “It’s so damp and smelly in there.”
“David, not everything in life is pleasant or fair, and it’s time you learned that lesson. If you want to help your brother run Shaw Silks someday, you have to know everything about the company. And the only way you’ll learn that is by working.”
“But, Mama—”
“You will start tomorrow at six in the morning.”
“But, Mama, that is too early.”
“That’s the time the mill opens, and that is when you’ll begin work as well.”
Hannah turned her attention back to the papers on her desk, dismissing him.
Davey left the study.
Next Hannah summoned Samuel.
We’re alone
, Hannah thought the moment he walked through the door.
Reiver
is on his way to Japan and will be gone for a long, long time.
All she had to do was look into Samuel’s pale, ghostly eyes and feel her body respond to know that she still loved and desired him. She wanted to run her fingers through the silver at his temples and feel the heavy heat of his mouth on hers again. She wanted him to touch her breasts and bare them…
“You wanted to see me?”
Hannah snapped out of her erotic reverie.
Samuel walked over to the side table half a room away, as if purposely trying to put physical distance between himself and Hannah. He kept his right arm close to his side, a sure sign of his nervousness.
“Do I make you uneasy?” Hannah said.
“Not you.” He gave her an anguished glance. “It’s the temptation of seeing you day after day and knowing I can’t have you.”
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So he still felt it, too.
“If he were so concerned about us becoming lovers again, he wouldn’t have gone to Japan,” Hannah said. “Quite frankly I don’t think he cares.”
“He trusts us, Hannah.”
She sighed wearily. “I didn’t ask you here to discuss Reiver and trust. I need you to help me with a matter of great importance to the company.”
Samuel raised one brow. “Me?”
Hannah placed her hand on a thick sheaf of papers. “For years Reiver and the other silk manufacturers in this country have been trying to persuade Congress to increase the tariff on imported silks to help our domestic silk industry. It hasn’t been successful.”
“What can I do?”
“I’d like you to study these documents and papers and go to Washington to make another appeal for increased tariffs.”
Samuel’s eyes widened. “I don’t know anything about tariffs.”
“You can learn.” When Samuel appeared reluctant, Hannah said gently,
“Ever since you returned, you’ve said you wanted something productive to do. I think this would be perfect. After all, you lost a hand, not your mental faculties, and I desperately need someone to do this.”
“What about James?”
“He’s an inventor.” She sat back in her chair. “And can’t you just see me—a woman—storming the hallowed halls of Congress, trying to persuade stodgy old senators and representatives to establish such a tariff? They’d laugh me off Capitol Hill.”
A rare hint of amusement lit Samuel’s eyes. “I can see your point.”
“You’re a Shaw. They will listen to you.”
“You really have this much faith in me?”
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“Of course, otherwise I wouldn’t have asked you.”
He rose and reached for the papers. “I’ll study these and see what I can do.”
Hannah stood as well, damning them both for their politeness. “Let me know when you’re ready to go to Washington.”
Samuel smiled and left.
Hannah leaned back in her chair. Two years…how was she ever going to avoid temptation for two years? Samuel had sensed it as well when he was here, the currents still running as strong as ever between them. He tried to conceal it with a veneer of politeness, but Hannah saw through his ruse right away.
She rose. Both of them would just have to keep busy.
A man needed responsibility to achieve his full potential, Hannah decided.
She was pleased with what it had done for Davey during that difficult summer of 1858, when not a letter arrived from Reiver or Benjamin enroute to Japan, and Georgia almost died giving birth to twin boys.
During those bleak, frustrating days, one of Hannah’s consolations was watching the transformation in her younger son from an overfed, petulant child to a diligent, hardworking young man. On this tranquil night in late September she would learn if responsibility had transformed Samuel as well.
Hannah sat in the parlor and listened to a soft breeze sighing through the maples. She cast a worried look at Mrs. Hardy in the wing chair by the fire, a throw warming her. The old housekeeper had grown even more frail over the summer, her wrinkled skin turning as opaque as parchment and her thin shoulders becoming even more stooped. Her tongue, however, had not mellowed with age.
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“When’s he coming?” she muttered from the depths of her chair. “I can’t wait up all night.”
Hannah glanced at the tall-case clock. “It’s nine o’clock now. He should be home soon. Perhaps the train from Washington was delayed.”
Two weeks ago Samuel had left for Washington to try to convince Congress to increase the tariff. He was due back tonight, when Hannah would learn of his success or failure in person, rather than by telegram.
“Then he should have taken an earlier train,” Mrs. Hardy said.
To distract her, Hannah asked the old lady if she wanted a cup of tea or an extra throw.
“Tea keeps me up at night.” The rheumy silver eyes sparkled with youthful mischief. “I could go for a nip of Reiver’s imported sherry, though.”
Hannah smiled. “So could I.” She poured two glasses and gave one to Mrs.
Hardy.
The old lady slurped it greedily. “I never could understand why Reiver even touched this stuff after what demon rum did to his father.”
Hannah shrugged. “Perhaps he drank now and then to prove to himself that he could without turning into a drunkard.”
Mrs. Hardy nodded her silver head. “That sounds like Reiver.” She cocked one brow at Hannah. “You must be mighty lonely without him around.”
Actually Hannah didn’t miss him at all.
“I don’t have time to be lonely. Running the mill is very time-consuming, even though I have plenty of help. And there’s always the family to keep me company.”
“Especially Samuel,” Mrs. Hardy said, taking another swig of sherry.
“Couldn’t resist that charmer, could you?”
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Hannah felt a chill race down her spine. “You knew we loved each other, didn’t you?”
“I may be half-blind, but I’m not stupid. Of course I knew. I never told anyone, though, and never will, even on my deathbed, which won’t be long in coming.”
That reality saddened Hannah, but she said, “Before he left, Reiver said you’d outlive us all, so let’s not hear any talk of dying, Mrs. Hardy.”
The silver eyes twinkled. “You’ll miss me when I’m gone.” The laughter in her eyes faded. “If you go on working as hard as you have these past months, you’re the one who won’t be around for long.”
Hannah sipped her sherry. “I must admit that running the mill is more tiring than I expected.”
“That’s because it’s men’s work.” Mrs. Hardy drained her glass. “I can’t keep my eyes open another second. Tell Samuel he didn’t get here in time, so he missed seeing me.”
“I will.” Hannah helped the frail old lady upstairs to bed, then returned to the parlor to keep her vigil.
She went to the front door to peer out the sidelights and see if anyone was walking down the drive. All she saw were the tall maple trees silhouetted against the blue-black twilight sky.
Just as she was turning away, movement caught her eye. She turned back to see a familiar figure separate from the shadows and walk down the drive.
Samuel.
Hannah opened the door and went out on the porch. “Welcome home.”
In the fast-fading light she couldn’t discern Samuel’s features well enough to tell if his mission had met with success or failure. When he stepped into the light coming from the hallway, Hannah knew.
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“No higher tariff this year,” Samuel said, setting his valise down in the hall.
Hannah studied him carefully. While deep shadows underscored his eyes, they flashed with determination rather than defeat, and he held himself straight and tall, like a warrior awaiting another skirmish.
Hannah smiled and helped him with his coat. “Come have a glass of sherry and tell me all about it.”
Samuel sat down in the wing chair vacated by Mrs. Hardy and rubbed his eyes. “Everyone’s too preoccupied with the possibility of the slave states seceding to concern themselves with the silk manufacturers.”
Hannah poured him a sherry and refilled her own glass. “Was it a good fight?”
Samuel grinned, a flash of white teeth. “A very good fight.”
She handed him his sherry, sat down across from him, and listened while he spoke of Washington. He told of the tense, divisive mood in the capital between representatives of the industrialized North and the agricultural South, of the long, frustrating days and evenings meeting with congressmen on both sides to try to convince them that supporting such a higher tariff would benefit everyone.
Samuel leaned back in his chair. “I think the only way we’ll get legislation passed is if the South secedes and we go to war.”
Hannah shuddered. “I wouldn’t want to see that happen, even if it means that Shaw Silks has to manufacture only thread and ribbons forever.”
“Don’t let Reiver hear you say that.”
Hannah smiled dryly. “He wouldn’t mind a war if it meant Shaw Silks would prosper.” She added, “As long as Benjamin and Davey didn’t have to fight in it, of course.”
Samuel shook his head. “I can’t believe the change in Davey since he’s been working in the mill.” He stared into the cold fireplace. “Or the change in myself
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since you involved me with this tariff legislation.” He looked at her, his gaze bright and warm. “Don’t think I don’t realize what you’ve been doing.”
Hannah sensed his mood shift at once. Gone was the wounded, withdrawn Samuel, always keeping Hannah at a distance, treading softly lest he anger his brother. The man sitting across from her was infinitely more dangerous.
She widened her eyes innocently. “What have I been doing?”
“Giving me back my self-respect.” Samuel rose, set his glass on the mantel, and leaned against it. “When I lost my hand, I wanted to die. I considered killing myself, but when I thought of never seeing you again, I couldn’t go through with it. I felt worse than useless, especially when I returned to Coldwater.”
“You shouldn’t feel that way. This is your home.”
He bowed his head. “But most of all, I regretted letting Reiver banish me to California. I should have stayed with you, Hannah.”
She rose and went to him, just stopping short of flinging herself into his arms. “Once Reiver discovered us, there was nothing else either of us could have done. I couldn’t leave my children, and if we tried to see each other secretly, Reiver would have harmed you.”
“I still have so many regrets.”
“Don’t, Samuel. At the time we weren’t fated to be together.”
He grew very still, his body taut. “And now?”
Hannah’s heart stopped. She couldn’t breathe. His words hung between them as solid and tempting as Eve’s apple in the Garden of Eden.
She reached for him, helpless to stop herself. Samuel’s arms encircled her and his mouth possessed hers with such sweet ferocity that Hannah couldn’t think a coherent thought. Oddly enough, when his hand found her breast, her conscience awoke with a shriek.
Hannah pulled away, panting hard.
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Samuel stared at her. “What’s wrong? I thought you wanted—”
“We mustn’t!”
He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “Reiver’s in Japan. We have nothing to fear.”
“But I am afraid.” She clasped her hands in front of her. “I’m afraid that if I start loving you, I won’t be able to stop.”
He smiled gently. “And that would be so bad?”
“It would be heaven…until Reiver returns. Then what? We’ll have to stop loving each other? Pretend that we were never lovers?” She shook her head vehemently. “I couldn’t bear it.”
“So we shouldn’t even start?”
“We shouldn’t start what we can’t finish. It will just be too painful.”
He fell silent. “Do you remember what I once told you about living for the moment?”
“You said that we should because it might never come again.”
His pale eyes grew wistful. “Well, I would rather be your lover for two years than never at all.”
“All I would do is live in dread of the day I would have to give you up again.”
Samuel took a step toward her, an expression of desperate appeal written on his face. “Hannah, I love you. I don’t know if I can be so close to you day after day without going mad if I can’t have you.”