Passion's Joy (56 page)

Of course, the shadow of Lord Barrington always hovered near us. When he learned Alisha was with child, Alisha said, "I don't think he knows Mary, for all he said was, 'Ah good, an heir at last. Let us pray mother and child survive the deliverance.' Then something about Eve..." She couldn't remember.

Alisha and I willfully ignored the portent of those words, and as he was away the whole time after that, we eventually came to know laughter again, laughter at the strangeness of it, the joy and wonder of the lives he left each of us with. "We shall raise our children together, my sweet Mary," Alisha would say, "and they shall be siblings in heart, before they know it as fact. When at last our secret is safe to share, we shall sit them down and tell them. I suspect at first they shall be very angry with us..." Such was how we talked and planned, as any two young mothers, and for those last long months, we knew only the wonder of the miracles taking shape within us, the contentment in each other's company.

The time of your births, as you know, is separated by four days. When you were born, Ram, your mother sent me a note, read to me by the messenger—this good lady here, herself—and it said: "Mary, my sweet Mary, the joy of it! In my arms I hold my son, large and healthy, and you would say a bonny fine lad indeed. . The midwife claims 'twas one of the easiest first births she ever partook, but I do not know if this is so. I only know that as I hold him to my breast the love in my heart is truly God's own gift to me. And now, my sweet Mary, 'tis your turn, and I await anxiously!"

I still hear her voice saying this, so gentle and dear, as I cry now. 'Twas claimed she died upon the birthin' bed, yet I know 'tis not so! The suspicion, so much worse than my other, sits upon ray heart like a cold winter frost. Did he take Alisha from me, too? Alisha, who to this day was dearer to me than any other living soul before or since—dearer even than him...

Alas, I had you Sean, and eventually you, too, Ram. Alisha's dream came to pass, and you two were raised together, brothers at heart as well as in fact. I love you both dearly, as I know Alisha would have, and I leave you with this love, our secret finally shared."

The letter dropped to Joy's lap as she turned with her tears to Ram's shoulder, filled with the sadness and surprise of Mary's story, of knowing love, the shape and meaning it gave to life, the devastation of its loss. Ram's arms came around her, and he held her tightly, though his gaze locked with Sean's, his brother in heart as well as in fact. He wanted to laugh or cry, he truly didn't know which, for the tragedy of their mothers' shared past, at last revealed, mixed with a wide, clear path that led to a bright and joyful future indeed.

* * * * *

"Twas a fool's task," Sean said bluntly, following Ram up to the deck. He played the devil's advocate; the real fool's task was his effort to outwit Ram. The Ram's Head, as well as the St.

Marys, sailing off her starboard, were supposed to be bound for the port of Boston, bringing Joy and the Reverend to the small white house in the woods for the birth of Sammy's and Cory's first child due in four months time. There was plenty of time for a side trip, which they were taking, only Ram didn't know it. All navigational tools were rigged, as were the sails. Sean also had planted a conspiracy among Ram's men, a conspiracy many would call mutiny.

Ram knew something was wrong, he just didn't know what—past the infuriatingly sluggish response of his ship. Today, he, Sean and a handful of men labored arduously to shift the weight of the cargo, hoping the shift would help increase speed, and this was what Sean referred to.

"Perhaps," Ram replied noncommittally as they stepped over to the rail. The last rays of the sun slanted across the deck. The blue canopy of the sky darkened to a soft violet color, shading the

darker sea as well. "Curse all Sean." Ram felt truly perplexed, irritated because of it. "But even the colors are wrong! I've never seen this weather so far north. O'Brian, Michaels, Todd, none of them have either. I'd swear we were two hundred miles off course if the damn sextant didn't say otherwise."

Sean bit his lip, his gaze resting upon the sea to shield his amusement. They were in fact exactly two hundred miles off course!

Ram shook his head. "I just have this gut instinct something is wrong." Sean abruptly changed the subject.

The two captains conferring at the rail solicited a comment from a new crew member to which Bart, working the ropes behind them, replied, "Oh aye. Now that everyone knows they're blood brothers, everyone sees a likeness. 'Course, I always suspected." He had convinced everyone. "Tisn't just their height or their uncommon strength, but Seanessy looks like a blond version of Ram. Some say it the other way around—that Ram looks a darker version of Sean—but all that depends on who's butterin' ye bread ..."

Sean's talk absorbed Ram's thoughts for a spell, until Ram found his own ever-present distraction. The darkening colors reminded him of her eyes darkening with passion, which in turn reminded him of last night...

Sean watched the boyish grin transform Ram's face, the grin of a man please with something, or perhaps everything. Everything came down to the one name Joy, and Sean thought, not for the first time, he could never have gotten away with his shenanigans if Joy had not been on board. Ram had changed much since the night of Mary's letter, though the most important change of course, was the freedom to love her.

"She has changed you," he said out loud with his own smile and this, not for the first time either. "She has captured your heart and soul and—" He laughed, "There are times when I think she has stolen your wits as well."

Misunderstanding Sean's remark, Ram assumed he referred to a recent conversation where he had lamented at length over his infuriating inability to deny Joy anything, realizing it when Joy had asked for her third fresh-water bath. He had stared at the lovely sky-blue eyes, and when any right-minded captain would have laughed at the outrageous request, he found himself going to the door and shouting the order out, daring any of his men to say a word. His men might go thirsty, but Joy would be happy.

That was hardly the extent of it, and he chuckled suddenly, remembering how Joy had come into his study with Cory's letter in hand to announce she must go back for the birth of Cory's and Sammy's first child. That he had understood, and besides, the Reverend was ever anxious to quit English soil. Yet before they had departed, Joy insisted on personally visiting nine different orphanages to discuss her programs with the matrons. "I know how terribly busy you are," she had said, "but just think if it saves but one child's life..."

Again, he could not refuse her.

"Aye," Ram said as he stared at the darkening color of the water. "She has snared me tightly in her spell, and I am lost. Yet," His paused filled with a chuckle. "I do not think I suffer over much because of it." Thinking of changing sky-blue eyes, of long brown hair, a smile that affected him physically, thinking of what he had been thinking of all day since he had forced himself to leave her sleeping in the morning, he grabbed a line and vaulted the side, dropping a good thirty feet into the water. It was a cleansing plunge before seeing her. '

"E's like a long-tailed cat in a room o' rocking chairs," Derrick came up behind Sean, watching Ram in the water below.

"Aye!" Sean laughed. "And if it weren't for the lady sitting behind that door—" "Your soul wouldn't be worth a bloody farthing," Derrick finished.

Ram climbed back up the rope and disappeared into his quarters. Nearly fifteen hands immediately went about changing the sails. The wind slapped the sails into place, and once done, Sean looked back to Derrick. "What news have you man?"

"Should be there by morning light." .

"Good. Now all I need is six or seven men to go against him."

"Don't look at me!" Derrick said in true alarm. "My knees are quakin' just thinkin' about it!

Ye won't get anyone on this ship to do the dastardly deed, ye won't. Unlike ye, Seanessy," he grinned wickedly. "Ram weeds out the witless and the fools before hiring 'em on."

"As well as the courageous," Sean observed. Yet Derrick was right. He'd have to get his own men to go against Ram, paying them a pretty bonus, too.

"Then too, Seanessy," Derrick had one last bit of advice, "Ye, of all men, should know 'twill take more than six or seven men to take Ram out."

Sean's eyes filled with merriment, and he laughed. "Not if one of them is me!"

Normally Ram, usually working with Sean, took on the task of exhausting little Sean to sleep. Today though, Ram and Sean had been working all day and into the evening, and the task fell on the less sturdy shoulders of Joy, the Reverend, Polly and Mrs. Thimble. All of them spent the last four hours feeding, bathing, chasing, playing hide and seek, blocks, the jumping game, touch the sky and catch—this last was important, for Ram and Sean were both convinced little Sean would soon be named Cambridge's greatest cricket player, and with masculine wisdom, they thought to get him on his way with practice. Yet little Sean exhausted everyone long before himself, and Joy watched the Reverend, Mrs. Thimble and Polly abandon ship like so many rats in a fire, leaving her alone with the task. She finally managed to trap the irascible lad in a corner, coaxed him still in her arms with a song and at last thick lashes brushed the round rosy cheeks.

Joy nearly collapsed on top of him. She simply did not understand how mothers of two, three and more children managed, especially when most women did not have wealthy husbands and a string of helpers. Yet, once she was alone and free, staring at the empty quarters—save for Rake, sleeping alongside the cradle—she felt a burst of renewed energy. Alone and free at last! There was much to do. She lit a lamp, immediately assumed the wide comfortable chair behind Ram's huge desk, and for the tenth time, she carefully unfolded the Reverend Cox's letter. The letter contained William Lloyd Garrison's last and most poignant address to the New England Abolitionist Society. He was a founder of the American Anti-slavery Society, the leader of the movement for immediate and unconditional emancipation, and his speeches were largely responsible for the burgeoning numbers of abolitionists. Profoundly moving, she had cried the first time she read the speech, while each time afterward, she wanted to jump to her feet, pound her fist deploring people to act, to do something!

She had been waiting for the right time to share it with Ram. This had much to do with a hope that the address would persuade him to write an even larger bank note to the Abolitionist Lobbying Fund. Unfortunately, Ram was absolutely convinced nothing short of war would ever end slavery in the states, and though they argued often and passionately on the subject, nothing so far had persuaded him that if everyone acted now and did all one could—such as write larger bank notes—this war could be averted.

William Lloyd Garrison's address would surely do the trick! Perhaps tonight, she thought.

The door opened at last and mendacious blue eyes lifted to see Ram's tall frame silhouetted in the impending darkness. The last play of light made Ram's already imposing height seem even taller. Like a vision from her dreams, she could not see his face, only the outline of his rough black curls, the wide breadth of his shoulders and arms, a clear definition of his long legs.

Rake thumped his tail and didn't bother rising. Joy knew better. Butter him up, she thought, jumping to her feet to greet him.

The door shut; Ram was more than ready to receive her. Strong arms slipped round the incredible smallness of her waist, bringing her hard against the broad chest, and before she could say anything, his mouth lowered to hers. He tasted lavender and spices and thought wildly he'd devour her then and there. The kiss deepened as he pressed her lips harder and more passionately, starving for the taste of her mouth. She felt that swift wondrous melting feeling and ... something else. Something that made her pull back with a gasp. "You're all wet!"

Salty beads of moisture slid from the hard muscles of his body. A huge wet stain covered her blue cotton dress. "Aye!" He chuckled, amusement warm and lively in his gaze. "We worked up quite a sweat, and I thought it best to bathe before coming here. Now my love,"—he bent and kissed her mouth again—"you are wet as well.''

Adding insult to injury, he shook his hair all over her. Chills raced from each drop, but her cry of protest mixed with laughter as she jumped back safely from his reach. Ram watched the gentle sway of her hips as she retreated to the dressing room to fetch a towel and a change of clothes. Two long ropes of her hair swung with the movement, and he could not say exactly why he liked her hair braided so much, except that Mary had always worn her hair that way.

Joy fetched a towel and a night gown, chatting the whole way. "Sean's asleep," she first whispered, pointing to the cradle, proceeding to tell him about that. Ram was only too glad to hear it, for he had plans for the boy's mother. She then seemed particularly interested in how he felt, if he felt tired or no, and Ram smiled at her interest, pleased with her like mind.

He hardly listened though, as she presented him with her back, a long row of buttons. He forgot the towel. The day had been unusually warm—the damnable queer weather again—and she wore only a chemise beneath the dress. He tackled the task and from his viewpoint above, the rosy tips of her breasts were barely covered in the white cotton chemise, teasing, begging for his touch

—

"Thank goodness, he is sleeping early for once," she finished, acutely conscious of the warmth of his fingertips, brushing her bare skin. “Of course, I always think he should be sleeping more, but he's always thinking something else. He is so like you!"

Ram pushed the undergarment from her shoulders. Small shivers raced through her as his lips replaced his hands. She closed her eyes to the pleasure of it. He was just about to lift her to the bed, wet or no, when she stepped from the pile of clothes.

"I'm glad though, for tonight is very special."