Haven House, page 7




Chapter Six
Morning light shone through the windows, but I was already awake, dressed, and sitting at the small escritoire when Jessie joined me.
“Morning, miss.” She bobbed a curtsy.
“Please don’t,” I begged.
Jessie goggled at me.
“My name is Amaryllis. Use it,” I urged. “I’m no noble lady or gently born princess.” I cleared my throat. “I take it breakfast is in the dining room?” When Jessie shook her head, I sighed. “Where, then?”
“The sheriff prefers to eat in the small parlour. I’ll show you the way.”
I rose and followed the girl down the stairs and through a maze of hallways. “If you need me, Miss Amaryllis, just press the bell.” She scooted off.
I suppose I should be glad she didn’t curtsy again and announce me into the room.
While my stomach tied itself in knots, I laid my hand on the doorknob. The metal was cold, but I sighed and entered. Nothing ever gets better from waiting.
A fire crackled in the hearth, scents of coffee and bacon wafted in the air, and my stomach gurgled in recognition. At least the room appeared to be empty, so embarrassment was the least of my concerns. I headed to the table, picked up a plate, and moved to the sideboard where warming dishes lay. I lifted the lid, inhaled the scent of pig meat, and scooped up an egg, tomato, and a succulent-looking sausage.
Settling into the chair, I picked up the knife and fork and ate, when the door opened again. In he strode. Damien. The sheriff and the man who had taken up most of my dreams.
“Good morning, Ammy. Did you sleep well?”
I wanted to snarl but contained it. He looked rested, comfortable, and at ease, whereas I’d spent the night tossing and turning, thinking about him and that kiss.
“Fine, thank you for asking,” I lied through my teeth.
The glint in his eyes informed me that he knew I prevaricated.
“Wonderful day, isn’t it?” He reached for a plate and began piling food on it.
With a determination I didn’t know I had, I settled into my breakfast, though any sense of interest in it had waned. The textures and flavours I’d relished before he’d entered the room could have been sawdust now. After all, here was a much tastier morsel, if the memory of his lips against mine and the essence of him was correct.
In silence, I set down the utensils and reached for my coffee, draining the cup before carefully dabbing at my lips. Perhaps if I were quick, I could escape—
“Don’t rush on my account, Ammy.” I heard the humour lacing his voice.
“I’m done,” I answered, rising from the chair.
“I’d like to talk to you.” He indicated for me to sit with his hands.
Like any agreeable guest, I sank back down, cursing inwardly that I’d waited so long to break my fast. “Of course.”
“You’re uncomfortable now. I apologise. Last night was, while not inexcusable, perhaps an unwise action on my part.”
I looked at my plate. If I looked at him, he’d read the sudden weakness that filled me. Weakness that he now regretted his actions while I’d obviously taken them to mean something significantly different.
I didn’t want it. The biggest lie of all. If I were honest with myself, I felt maybe not complete but freed and excited by the action. The experience. None of which made any sense. My brain thrust into the ongoing debate inside me.
“I… Sheriff…” I fisted my hands, balled them so tight in my lap that I felt the blood rush when I released the pressure, then laid them palm down on my lap. “I appreciate that it was a mistake.” Now I did glance at him, but only for a second because of the ferocity of his scowl.
“Don’t mistake my words, Ammy. There was no mistake in my intent.” His voice turned silky, and my insides melted just a little further. “I wanted to kiss you. I still do, but you aren’t ready for what I crave.”
The words sucked the oxygen from my lungs. “I…” Now I rose with jerking movements, and the chair fell. Fear congealed in the pit of my belly. “I have no interest in…” I waved my hands and stalked to the door, every move an act of bravado.
“Ammy.” His voice stilled me.
Tears stung my eyes because, much as he might intrigue me, I couldn’t give in. I’d seen what happened to women who gave up themselves for a man, and that wasn’t the future I needed. Besides, soon, I’d be joined by children. They needed me more than I needed this man.
If only that were true.
“Please don’t do this to me, Sheriff. I have a commitment.”
“And I’ll help you see it through, Ammy. But don’t think that because you’ve given your word, you can’t have more.” I heard him advance, and that heated pit in my stomach shook, lapping at the walls I’d somehow built around myself. “And my name is Damien. Last night you used my name.”
I clenched my hands tightly together. I wanted to turn to him. To say his name and watch the way his eyes shone with excitement.
“Say it again, Ammy. I need to hear my name on your lips.”
“No,” I whispered, because I wanted to call him Damien, and that filled me with a terrifying dread. A tear burst free and trickled down my cheek. I controlled the urge to dash it away, knowing that would tell him just how upset and affected I really was. That way led to danger, and I’d seen more than enough repercussions of weakness to last me a lifetime.
I wrenched toward the door, but he took my hand, spun me around. I closed my eyes and heard him draw in a deep and unsteady breath. “Tears, Ammy?” His hand swiped over my cheek. “Have I scared you?”
When I opened my eyes, it was to see deep pools of green, eternity in their depths. “No. I’m scaring myself.” My voice wobbled like my knees.
His face crinkled. Damien didn’t understand. How could he?
“I’m afraid of what I want. Of how you make me feel. I promised myself…” Now I gulped. This conversation had dived so deep in the blink of an eye, but I prided myself on my honesty. “I don’t want the commitment and the work that comes with a husband. Children, yes, but not the chains.” I spat the last word from my lips.
His face blanked. “Commitment and responsibility? Chains?”
I bit my lip, unsure how to proceed. Clearly I needed to explain better to make him see what I meant. “I lived a life of subservience. Where a man made every decision for the women in the household, immaterial of age, ability, or any other thing that might make them stand out. We were little more than chattels to be given and bought at whim. I don’t want that for my future. I need to make my decisions for myself. To choose what I want. Who I want.” My chest rose and fell under the onslaught of my sudden fury.
“I don’t want to own you, Ammy.” His quiet words wrapped themselves around me like a warm embrace, and my spine bent. I doubled over as the torrent of anguish escaped, a hot tide of horror, fear, and anger. I cried and shuddered as his arms enfolded me.
Damien held me close as I sobbed out the well of emotions I’d tried so hard to ignore for years; they broke and washed over us both. At some point he slid his arms under my legs and lifted me, the heat and security of him soothing the raggedness of my outburst. When I curled onto his lap, I burrowed in. His hands moved in a slow rub over my back. Comfort. Support.
Eventually I came back to me. I raised my head, though my brain was woolly and my eyes swollen. “I’m sorry,” I croaked, swiping at the wetness coating my face.
“Never be sorry for sharing yourself with me. I don’t suppose you’ve had many opportunities to do that before?” His grip on me didn’t loosen, and to be honest, I didn’t want it to.
I shook my head, hair sticking to the tacky moisture drying on my cheeks. I patted my pockets, searching for a handkerchief. “No… Oh dear.” Embarrassment flooded me.
He moved, and a cloth of cotton quickly appeared in front of my gaze.
I wiped and blew, aware he waited for whatever I would do next.
Dropping the handkerchief to my lap, I wondered whether I should move or wait for him to let me go.
Two taps came on the door, and his chest vibrated as he gave the command to “Come.”
I ducked my head down as the door opened, refusing to allow anyone else to see my weakness. “Sir, we have a communication from Haven. The children are on their way.”
Children.
“She’s…”
He nodded. “Yes. Andrew and Gloriana have been in contact with me. Letitia is failing, and they took custody yesterday, then arranged the airship. The children will arrive this evening.”
The knot in my stomach that had melted away now reformed, heavier than before. “They’ll need rooms, clothing.” I pushed at Damien’s arms. “I have to—”
“Already attended to.” The rubbing started again at my back. “Thank you, Starson. I’ll be along soon.”
The door closed and left the two of us alone once more.
“I need to…” Squirming, I made to move away.
“Just a moment longer, Ammy.” The entreaty warned me that the softness within him was buried deep and just as fragile as my own.
“But—”
“Take a moment to breathe. To stop.”
So I did, letting the warmth of his body keep the frigidness that threatened to envelop me at bay for long moments.
“When you’re ready, Ammy, I’ll be here.” I almost missed the words because he spoke so quietly.
“I’m afraid, Damien.”
He shuddered beneath me. “You said my name.” His voice took on a thick quality.
I had. In my mind, since this conversation began, somehow I’d changed my mind. Now he was no longer “the sheriff.” He was Damien.
It felt important, this fact. Why or how, I wouldn’t consider right now, because later today, I’d take on responsibility for children. Not mine, but they would be. I had promised their mother I’d ensure their safety. The promise went to the heart of who I saw myself to be. They wouldn’t suffer for another day, because they were innocent, just as I’d once been.
He released me with a sigh. “You set the pace, Ammy. I won’t push you. Never. One day, you’ll wake and know I’m here, waiting for you.”
How could he say these things? Mean them when he barely knew me?
When I was braver, stronger, I’d ask.
I slid away, rose, and smoothed my disordered skirts. “I need to make sure everything is right for them.”
“Go. I’ll still be here. Waiting.”
The words strengthened me, and I left the room and him behind. But my mind knew that one day, I’d walk in there and ask for more.
Chapter Seven
The carriage pulled out of the driveway. Damien had been more than unwilling to allow me to join him, but I’d pleaded and argued until he’d finally agreed. The lines of his face were tight, and I knew he worried.
“Tell me the names of the children,” I asked again, and he huffed out a sigh.
“Francesca is fourteen. She’s taken over the mothering role to some extent, and Letitia fled to ensure she wasn’t married off sooner rather than later.”
I understood Letitia’s fears all too well. However, I waited for Damien to continue.
“Then you have Simeon, aged seven, Samson, aged five, Constance is three, and Faith is two. They’ve all been damaged, Ammy.”
“And you became involved because…?”
Damien grimaced. “Gloriana has powerful friends. When Letitia’s illness became undeniable, Gloriana told me it wasn’t the first instance of wasting illnesses she’d seen among these women. She feared for the children, since Letitia had suffered so much to save them from the life that loomed. The children were always her greatest concern, and she wanted to get them away from the clutches of her father.”
I stared at out the front of the carriage. Five children under the age of fourteen were now my responsibility. I’d not really had much to do with Haven's children, as each mother cared for them. Would I be able to do the right thing? Make the right choices?
Damien reached out and took my hand. “You’ll do fine, Ammy. You’re gentle and kind but a fighter when you need to be.”
Was he reading my mind? I shook my head, because now wasn’t the time for introspection.
We swayed on the roads as we closed in on the area where we’d run to, hiding from those chasing us, and suddenly the wisdom of my argument dried up. What if they were waiting? Was my hard-headedness going to place the children in danger? I bit my lip as doubts assailed me.
The airship came into view, sailing over the tops of the trees and smaller buildings as it headed toward the dock. For a moment, I let the breathtaking beauty of it overtake me. It was magnificent. A thing of technological wonder, with the bulbous canopy and the lower ship-like structure.
Voices called, and ropes, long and sinuous despite their girth, slid down. They were grasped and tugged, and the movement of rudder and screw propeller became louder.
Without thinking, I gripped Damien’s hand. “What a sight,” I breathed.
“Indeed.”
I turned to say something, but the words melted on my lips, now aware his gaze was focused on me. The intensity scorched my flesh, and in my breast, I felt the jump and quiver of anticipation.
A loud whomp broke the connection, and I realigned myself, staring at the airship and hoping I could ignore the pull between us.
The ship dropped slowly until it touched the ground. People scattered like ants before drops of rain; then the gangplanks slid up, the gates to the walking areas opened, and people appeared.
Soon, a flood of humanity exited from the ship, until at last a small band of staff escorted the children toward us. Damien rose and alighted from the carriage with an admonition to “Stay here.” It irked, but I followed his advice. Bags were fastened to the back of the conveyance, and the children were ushered forward with speed.
They climbed in, Francesca taking the youngest up on her lap as the oldest boy did the same to the slightly older toddler.
Damien barely settled himself when a larger sound echoed.
Red filled my vision.
Flames seared.
“Go,” he called to the driver. “Hold on to the children,” he muttered and dug into the holster he’d fastened to his waist.
I dragged the youngest boy against me, then urged Francesca in beside me.
The carriage shot forward with a jerk, and we rattled and careened forward.
At a corner, we swayed precariously, the younger two crying.
Had they picked up my concern and fears? We moved swiftly, buildings blurring at the speed with which we hurtled through the streets.
Terror shot through me. Are we out of control? Will we make it back to the house?
Gradually the vehicle slowed, then came to a stop, and Damien climbed out. Tense moments passed before he clambered back in, his face a tense mask. “We need to get home. Then I’ll contact your brother.”
I opened my mouth to ask what he’d seen, but the way he looked at the children, then back to me, spoke volumes.
I gave in, and we rode in near silence, only the hiccupping sobs of the two little girls invading the quiet.
Once we were upon the house, the gates opened to admit us, and the tension that surrounded Damien seeped away—not totally, but enough that he could smile at the youngsters. We climbed down and headed into the house, Francesca, Simeon, and Samson looking up at the spacious ceiling.
“Francesca? Children? If you will go with Mrs Coltraine, the housekeeper, she’ll see you to your rooms. Staff are also ready with some refreshments.”
The words were soft and carefully modulated to likely ameliorate some hysterics from the present concerns.
As I made to escort them up the stairs, Damien’s arm shot out. “When they’re settled, come join me in my office. We’ll talk there.”
Whatever he had to say, I knew I wouldn’t like it just from the lines of strain on his face. “Of course,” I answered, and, taking the youngest girl in my arms, we made our way up the stairs.
Time passed, settling the children, then dealing with issues that arose. The dinner hour came and went. Night descended on the house, but Damien was curiously absent from the dinner table.
I wouldn’t intrude. Clearly he was busy and hadn’t sent for me, so I retired for the evening.
At midnight or thereabouts, I heard steps by my door. My heart thudded, wondering if he’d enter. Come talk with me about where he’d been and what he’d learned. But then they resumed, heading to the chamber down the hall, and I’d lain there, my heart thudding wildly.
Every noise of the house seemed to wake me, so I felt exhausted and wrung out by the time I woke.
Breakfast with the children had proved a laborious affair.
The youngest argued and tussled, whined and cried. The staff who’d been assigned to their care raced around, and I’d found myself at a loss until Francesca explained they were grieving in their own way.
“But your mother…” How did one explain that she’d sent them away before she’d succumbed to her illness?
Francesca grimaced. “I know what you’re thinking. I know why she sent us here, and Simeon has an inkling. The others don’t understand. They’re too young.” She’d spoken like a tiny, undergrown adult, and it shocked me to realise she was probably far worldlier than I was, having assist with both the birth of the children, and having seen the begetting too.
I’d stayed to assist until they were finally settled with amusements. Then I left the room, worn out and restless.
With the children in their suite at the centre of the house, I had a moment to stop, refresh myself, before heading down to talk with Damien. Whatever he’d seen, he’d known it would upset the children, so he’d kept it to himself, but time was now long past to find out what I didn’t know.
We’d been attacked more than once, and the fact was, whatever brought this on was well beyond my ability to comprehend.
I swept into my bedchamber, thankful for the solitude. It wouldn’t last, but for now, I let my gaze wander to the windows. What I saw in the distance stole my breath. The glow on the horizon was bad enough, but my view beyond the gardens showed a sight that terrified me more. Beyond the large metal fencing stood men. A veritable army. They were faced off by those within the garden, armed and no doubt ready to defend. They hadn’t been there before.