Days of Gold p.13 Read online

  “And who else’s fault is it? If you hadn’t come to my home I’d be there now. I’d be in the heather this very minute and tonight I’d see my nephews and Malcolm, and I’d—” He took a breath and lowered his voice. “Instead, I’m here on this ocean, going to a foreign land, with no friends or family. And you’re trying to make me into something that I’ll never be. What is it that you want? To create a man you can show off to your highborn friends?” He was getting angry again. “Shall I be your trained monkey that you dress up and display? You’ll say, ‘Look what I did! I made an illiterate ruffian into a gentleman.’ Will your snooty friends applaud you?”

  Edilean was so taken aback by his words that she could hardly speak. “What friends do I have in this new country?” she asked. “I was teaching you to read because I thought you wanted to learn. Forgive me.”

  “Why do I need to read? What good will it do me? I’ll buy some land and work the soil. No more hills and heather for me. Yet you’re trying to—” He broke off and in the next moment he left the cabin, slamming the door behind him and leaving her alone in the room.

  “I will not cry,” she said. “I will not cry.” But she did. She flung herself down on the bed and cried hard. She hadn’t felt so bad since her uncle dragged her from school and later told her that the only thing he wanted from her was money.

  She knew that Angus was right. When she thought of what he looked like when she first met him and what he looked like now—all because of her—she wanted to beg his forgiveness. She hadn’t consciously tried to make him into the man she thought James was, but she’d done it. Angus was what she’d wanted in James. Angus was as beautiful as James, and nearly as well spoken when he put on his English accent. He could even sing, and he was certainly well liked by everyone. One day when the rain had stopped for half an hour, they’d gone up on deck and when a rope got stuck, Angus had helped the sailors pull it loose. Since then, he’d been a favorite of the men as well as the officers on the ship. At night, both Mr. Jones and Captain Inges asked him to sing one of his Scottish ballads. They liked them better than when Edilean sang an aria from an opera.

  “But I’ve not changed,” she said, sitting up on the bed and wiping her eyes. She was exactly the same as when she’d met Angus. And she had to face it that she was someone he didn’t like. He never had liked her, and it seemed that he never would. He didn’t like the world she’d been raised in, and he thought that she was a useless person—which he’d told her one way or the other many times.

  She glanced out the big windows and saw that the rain had let up. Captain Inges said they’d sail out of it soon, and he’d been right. Edilean smoothed her dress—the only one she’d been able to cut down from the huge gowns that were in the trunk—and decided to go up on deck. Maybe if she apologized to Angus, he’d forgive her. She didn’t like for him to be angry at her.

  As soon as Angus stormed out of the cabin, he regretted every word he’d said. Being near Edilean day after day was too much for him. Her kindness, her constant desire to please, the way she looked after him and noted what he did and did not like, was more than he could bear.

  Why couldn’t she be the snooty, arrogant snob he’d first thought she was? Why couldn’t she order him about as the underling she must think of him as? He remembered how justified he’d felt when he’d thrown her into the horse trough. But Angus knew that he’d judged her based solely on what he thought she was like. He’d not listened to anyone when they’d said Lawler’s niece was sweet and kind. He remembered making fun of that idea to Malcolm.

  At the thought of that name, Angus went up the ladder to the upper deck. He needed to get some air to keep himself from going insane. Just weeks ago his life had been laid out before him. He knew what his duties were and where he fit in the world. But now all he knew was confusion about what his future was going to be. And his very soul seemed to be torn by a very young, very beautiful girl who was making him forget all that he knew about himself. She was a woman he could never, never have—but wanted oh so very much.

  For the first time, six of the women prisoners were on deck. He was glad to see that their leg irons had been removed, but three of them still looked sick. It seemed that most of the sailors had come onto the deck and were doing tasks that didn’t need to be done while they gave the women surreptitious glances.

  Usually the scene would have amused him, but not now. Angus walked to the far side of the ship and looked over the rail.

  “Have a fight with the little miss?” asked a woman’s voice, and he turned to see the pretty one who’d stared at him when she’d come aboard. “I’m Tabitha.”

  “Angus Mc—” He hesitated. “Harcourt,” he said.

  “Nice to meet you, Angus Mc... Harcourt,” she said, her eyes teasing.

  When he said nothing else, she leaned back against the rail on her elbows and looked at the other women. “We’ve had a hard time of it, what with most of them puking up their guts for days.”

  “And you didn’t?” Angus asked, still looking out at the sea.

  “Naw. The sea don’t bother me at all.” She turned back to him. “So did you have a fight?”

  Angus gave her a look that said his personal life was none of her business, but his expression made her laugh.

  “I used to work for a woman like her. Such fine manners. Had to have everything just so, but I couldn’t please her no matter how hard I tried.”

  “So you stole from her?” Angus asked idly. He didn’t really care what she’d done. His mind was on his argument with Edilean. Or was it a true argument when he’d yelled and she’d said nothing in defense of herself?

  “No,” Tabitha said quietly. “Her husband stole from me the only thing I had that was mine alone.”

  At first he didn’t know what she meant, but then he realized she was talking about her virginity.

  “His wife kicked me out when she saw I was carrying her husband’s child. No references, no money. I had just the clothes on my back and the child in my belly. I stole a loaf of bread to survive and I was caught. By that time, I was too tired to run and prison looked good.”

  She was taking his attention away from his own problems, and he liked hearing her Scottish accent. He glanced at her flat stomach.

  “Stillborn,” she said. “Poor little fellow wanted nothing to do with this world, and I don’t blame him. The judge let me off easy with just this banishment to America. It wasn’t like I left a country that had been good to me. So why did you leave?”

  “To build a new life,” he said without thinking. “My wife and I want to buy land and...” He trailed off, unable to add to the lie.

  Tabitha smiled at him with a knowing little smirk. She’d seen the way he looked when he’d stepped on deck minutes before. Only a person close to you could make you that unhappy. “So what did you fight about?”

  “My wife and I—” he began, but stopped. He was so sick of lying! “I want more; she wants less. What else do men and women fight about?”

  She laughed so loud that everyone on deck looked at them.

  “And what will you do in America?” Angus asked, changing the subject.

  “I hear that a hundred people will be at the dock waiting to meet us. We’ll have to go to the courthouse to register, but after that we’re on our own. We can take job offers from those people on the dock. Or...” She gave him a suggestive look. “Or marriage proposals. I may marry one of those American men. I hear they’re a rough bunch, but maybe I can find myself a strong, sturdy man and we can make a life together.” She turned back toward him and lowered her voice. “What I want is my own home. That’s something I’ve never had. I cried for weeks after the baby was born dead. For all that it cost me everything I had, I loved the wee thing.”

  “Why are you telling me all this?” Angus asked.

  “No reason, but I’m good at judging character, and there’s something not right about you.” She looked him up and down. “Clothes, wife... something doesn’t match. I