Touch the Sun (7 page)

The remainder of their journey north took nearly ten days, and Meagan wondered frequently if it would ever end. Or, more to the point, if they would live through it. The weather grew worse the farther they traveled, and Lion's mood darkened with the ominous clouds that dogged their progress.

The night at Spurrier Tavern had formed an odd, unspoken alliance between Meagan and her friend's betrothed. He came to realize that she could keep Priscilla's tantrums in check, while she managed to convey to him that the less he was seen the fewer scenes there would be. To Lion, the silent bargain was a good one, for his daily battles with the elements were exhausting enough; he had no desire to take on his whining bride-to-be as well.

The master and servant learned to communicate with their eyes behind Priscilla's back as Meagan reassured him that she had everything under control. There was little opportunity for further conversation. The days were long and tiring and Meagan began to eat her nightly meals in her room with the pouting Priscilla. She regretted her unguarded behavior during her dinner with Lion Hampshire and had no wish for a repeat performance to further arouse his curiosity. Her performance that night had been unskilled; she had committed the blunder of dropping her guard and showing him herself. She knew that he had been intrigued by her and now she was panicky at the thought of getting herself in any deeper. So she played the role of lady's maid to the hilt, staying out of Lion's way and dropping her eyes when he came near. She could feel his mocking smile as he watched her, and her cheeks burned with the indignity of her position. But she refused to let down her guard again. If he discovered the truth, he might send her home to Virginia in his anger.

When she wasn't preoccupied with Lion or Priscilla, Meagan found herself actually enjoying the long hours of travel. The country was new to her and she longed to see it in the rich verdant garb of spring. Baltimore was a lovely surprise. Half the size of Philadelphia, it was a quaint, charming town perched on a hill that sloped down to Chesapeake Bay. Meagan tried to visualize the spacious streets under blue skies and sunshine, with the numerous dovecotes filled with singing birds. Lion told them that the townspeople believed the doves and swallows would bring prosperity, but none were in evidence as the carriage clattered down the sleet-swept streets.

Maryland's rolling countryside charmed Meagan even as it frustrated her. The roads were poor, seeming to grow muddier with every mile. Each hill became a frightening challenge as the horses struggled to bring the yellow post-chariot to the summit. Through the rain, Meagan could see the farmhouses and stone barns standing desolate under the frozen gray sky. Flocks of sheep huddled together, nibbling at the dry, brown stubble that poked through the frosty ground. She consoled herself with the knowledge that soon enough the fields would be moist and warm and filled with flax, with the sheep happily roaming the lush hillsides.

Luck favored them the day they ferried the Susquehanna River, for though it was dangerously swollen, the weather was unusually mild. There were no frightening winds or sudden lurches during the crossing, and Meagan managed to keep Priscilla calm.

The next few days took them across the head of the Elk River and on into Delaware. The journey to Newcastle, which was usually accomplished in one day, took them two. Meagan could see that Lion was becoming less tense, however, as they neared the Pennsylvania border. The next day they left Newcastle and followed the majestic three-mile-wide Delaware River northward.

When they drew up outside a remote tavern that evening, Lion helped the girls down with an irresistible grin. "Ladies, this is our last stop, God willing. This time tomorrow night I hope to be sampling a bottle of Bingham's brandy!"

Meagan felt herself smile back at him, caught in his high spirits and her own excited anticipation of the future.

Priscilla, on the other hand, managed to sniff loudly while looking the other way. "I must say, it is about time! I can't imagine enduring a more terrible ordeal than the last fortnight has been for me. My upbringing certainly did not prepare me—"

Lion's eyes hardened as he regarded her with distaste. "It is evident that your upbringing neglected to prepare you for anything worthwhile."

Priscilla's lower lip trembled with rage as she sought a retort. Failing that, she turned and flounced into the inn.

Shrugging tiredly, Meagan started after her, Lion at her side. She ventured a tentative glance in his direction, expecting rage and finding instead an expression of rueful amusement. One side of his mouth curved cynically as he rolled his eyes at her, and for a moment Meagan feared he might chuckle aloud.

Once upstairs in their tiny chamber, Priscilla calmed herself with a glass of wine. Two more were consumed before their supper arrived, by which time Priscilla was stretched out across the narrow bed in her chemise. While she rambled about her plans for the future, Meagan busied herself by washing with cold water and a rough cloth, trying to ignore her. When the innkeeper's wife arrived with a tray of food, the two girls sat down facing each other, sharing the wobbly table between the beds. The stew held more barley than beef and seemed to have cooled down considerably during the trip upstairs. Priscilla pushed around in the bowl with her spoon, searching for meat and smiling to herself.

"What do you look so pleased about?" Meagan demanded.

"I was just wondering where I'll be dining tomorrow night... I'll wager that I'll be living like a queen by
then.
Did you hear Lion mention the name Bingham? Do you suppose he knows them? I've heard such tales from James about their house! It's supposed to be modeled after the Duke of Manchester's, only Anne Bingham wanted it grander—"

"If I were you I'd tread a little more cautiously," Meagan broke in curtly, "If you don't use more discretion in your dealings with Captain Hampshire, you may find yourself eating with me in the kitchen!"

Priscilla wrinkled her nose and stuck out her tongue, a gesture which ended in a huge yawn. Stretching like a cat, she lay back on her bed and was fast asleep, the empty wine glass dangling from her slender fingers.

Meagan sighed as she leaned over to remove it and spread a quilt across her friend. By now the stew was cold. The fresh decanter of wine beckoned to her, and after pouring a glass, she leaned back against the feather pillows. Dusk had darkened into night by the time she finished the wine and ceased her brooding. On an impulse, she decided to venture downstairs. There was a longing inside her for honest human contact, a craving for laughter.

An oil lamp had been lit in the paneled hallway, throwing elongated shadows down the steps. Meagan descended quietly, listening to the muffled voices that drifted up from the kitchen and the taproom. Although she had been hoping to run across the friendly wife or daughter of some fellow traveler, the first person she saw in the taproom was Lion Hampshire. The room was not empty. A handful of men were gathered around a large gate-leg table arguing over a sheaf of papers, two more were hunched across a game table, and one lone fellow snored against the wall near the fireplace. Lion sat not far away, scowling at a newspaper while drinking from a stoneware jug. Gilded by the firelight, he looked more handsome than ever.

The wine gave Meagan courage to venture in among the men, and she walked up to Lion and peeked over the top of the paper. "Hello."

He turned his chin a fraction as he observed her, squaring his jaw. Meagan noticed the hair that showed above the open collar of his shirt, curling against his nut-brown neck. She felt alarmed at the sudden pounding of her heart.

"Ahh, Meagan. Is anything wrong? Has Her Highness made a proclamation?" He smiled a little, in spite of himself, and Meagan's own mouth twitched helplessly.

"No, as a matter of fact, she's asleep."

"Then, why—?"

"I'm bored silly, and that dark room was driving me to distraction." She glanced longingly at the chair next to his. "Would you mind very much if I sat down for just a few minutes?"

"Be my guest. I apologize for not offering you a seat sooner.

She sank down, spreading her skirts.

"Let me get you a glass of wine," Lion said, gesturing to the tavern keeper. From behind his cage-topped bar, the burly man poured the glass and brought it across the room, eyeing them knowingly.

"I can see why you might feel a little crazed after an evening shut up with Priscilla," Lion remarked.

Startled by his comment, she decided to speak her mind. "Pardon me for saying so, but I think that's a rather odd attitude for a man to hold about his bride-to-be!"

"You're absolutely right."

"You admit it?" she exclaimed incredulously.

"I fear I must. I have no talent for deception." He smiled slightly, but there was an unmistakable bitterness in his expression.

Meagan stared at him hard before she spoke again. "I know this is unpardonably rude of me, but I simply cannot help myself! Why ever are you marrying Pris—that is, Miss Wade? Is it for her fortune? I don't think it's as great as it might appear..."

A voice in the back of her mind told her that she was out of place as a servant, but she took another sip of wine to silence it. Lion Hampshire was leaning back in his chair, looking at her with the same interested curiosity she had seen in his eyes the night they had dined together in Baltimore. He grinned, and Meagan felt as though a fire had been lit inside her. It was a dazzling smile and she responded to it instinctively.

"There is something very suspicious about you." He attempted to sound stern. "I sensed it that first day when you ran me down in the entryway at West Hills. The trouble is, I can't put my finger on it. And the other problem is, I like you. I don't trust you—but I like you. And I appreciate your efforts to make this journey as bearable as possible—not to mention safe for your mistress. If I'd been alone with her she'd probably be at the bottom of the Potomac right now." There was a glint of laughter in his eyes as he raised the mug. "Am I right in assuming that we are allies of a sort?"

Meagan strove for a neutral expression. His bluntness took her by surprise, and she knew that any good lady's maid would never show any disloyalty to her mistress. Valiantly she attempted to take Priscilla's side, but when she met his eyes, she felt her cheeks grow hot and the words died on her lips.

Lion grinned triumphantly. "I knew it!" He leaned close to her blushing face, and Meagan felt faint as she breathed in the scent of him. "We are friends, aren't we? I don't suppose you'd care to reveal the solution to your mystery...?"

I must never talk to him alone again, Meagan thought wildly. Aloud, she stammered, "No! That is, there is no mystery! It is all in your mind."

Lion shook his head with amusement as he leaned across the table to light a cheroot on the guttering candle.

"Whatever you say, little one. In that spirit, I also deny any ulterior motives... save the noble one of true love."

Meagan cast a dubious glance at his dancing eyes. "I don't believe you."

"Neither do I believe you." His smile flashed in the shadows. "You are an enigma. I am sure that solving the mystery will provide an entertaining winter diversion."

"Don't trouble yourself," she murmured darkly. Across the room, the three men rolled up the sheaf of papers and got to their feet, chairs grating on the planked floor.

"Careful," Lion taunted. "Let's not be insolent. I shouldn't like to be forced to dismiss you."

"You—" Meagan began, rising to the bait. Her teeth bit her tongue as she stopped herself.

"Ah, that's more like it." Leaning closer, he grazed her neck with a lean finger. His mouth was just inches away.

For a frightened moment, she was unable to exhale, then recovering her senses, she glared at him. "You behave strangely for a man overcome by true love."

Lion laughed out loud at this and reached out to catch her wrist. "What unbelievable nerve! You are the one behaving strangely, my dear lady's maid!"

Meagan snatched her hand away just as a magnolia-scented shadow fell across the table, and they both looked up to find Priscilla standing there.

Immaculately gowned, she smiled at them with narrowed green eyes. "My, what a cozy twosome you make," she purred. "I don't recall giving you permission to leave the room tonight, Meagan."

Meagan's knuckles went white as she gripped the edge of the table, all too conscious of Lion's interested eyes watching them.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. You were asleep, and I felt the need for some fresh air."

"It seems to me that this air is decidedly smoky," Priscilla returned sweetly. "Why don't you run along now, dear? I'm sure you have bored Captain Hampshire quite long enough with your chatter. From now on, I suggest that you remember your place."

Meagan stood up, cheeks crimson, her eyes drawn to Lion's by some magnetic force she couldn't control. While Priscilla took over her chair, he winked at Meagan quite deliberately. She dragged her eyes away and murmured with cold effort, "I beg your pardon. It won't happen again."

Blood pounded in her head as she turned toward the doorway, but it couldn't drown out their voices.

"I hope you won't think me too forward, Lion, but I've decided that it's time you and I became friends," Priscilla was saying in a sugary voice. "I'm afraid I haven't behaved very well these past two weeks, but I'm hoping you'll forgive me and we can start afresh."

"My dear, you have read my mind. Those are my thoughts and desires exactly."

Chapter 7