Chapter 5

Mrs. Bishop was at Matthew's elbow. "Oh, dear. Could you carry her up to her chamber, Mr. Hawkhurst?"

Matthew followed her upstairs, glad to escape from the roomful of women. He quickly averted his eyes from the bed, and instead laid his burden upon a small sofa under the window. Mrs. Bishop fluttered about ineffectually, and he found himself now calming the mother. "Do you have any brandy, ma'am?"

"Oh, no!" she said, shocked. "The reverend wouldn't allow such a thing in the house. Whatever am I to do? Burn feathers, do you think, or slap her sharply in the face?"

"No, no, ma'am. She will be fine. She will come to in a moment. It is just shock. Mrs. Bishop, do you think I might have a private word with Sara? I'm sure I can explain the situation to her in such a way that she will accept and understand."

Mrs. Bishop cast him a doubtful look, but she turned matters over to him without demur. She wasn't feeling at all well herself and sought her own bed before collapse should overtake her.

When the door closed, Matthew drew forth a small silver flask and gently tipped a small amount of brandy to Sara's lips. She choked and bolted up from the sofa, almost knocking him to the floor.

"That bastard!" she panted. "He's made me the laughingstock of Cheltenham!" She put her hands to her temples and gave vent to a piercing scream. Matthew eyed the door nervously, thinking an outraged father would fly through the door to avenge his daughter.

Sabre laughed hysterically. "None will dare come through the door while the ‘Wilde' woman is throwing a tantrum." She reached under the bed, drew forth the sabre, and waved it in the air. "That rotten sod, if I had him here I'd run him through."

"Sara—" he began, very worried now.

"I'm not Sara. They wouldn't allow me to be Sara Bishop. I'm Sabre … Sabre Wilde … named for my father and his weapon."

He looked at her with awed admiration. "Sabre is a magnificent name. It suits you perfectly."

"Your brother has ruined my life!" she cried dramatically. "I'll ruin his if it's the last thing I do!"

"Sabre … in all honesty, he couldn't be here. The queen commanded him to remain at court."

"The queen?" She scowled, finding another outlet for her hatred. An unreasoning jealousy flamed through her heart. Her bridegroom had ignored her to dance attendance upon the bloody queen! "By God, I'll show Hawkhurst! Him and the queen, on my oath! I'll make them pay … I'll make them pay forever!"

She threw down the sabre with a flourish and her breasts rose and fell as she took great breaths to calm herself.

Suddenly Matthew began to laugh.

Green sparks shot from her eyes. "Gaping jackanapes … what's so funny?" she demanded hotly.

"Nay, lass, I'm on your side. I agree 'twas a damned shabby trick even for a Hawkhurst, but, God's blood, the joke is on him. He hasn't the faintest idea of what he's depriving himself. When I first saw you I thought you lovely enough to thicken a man's blood in his veins, but now that I've seen you in a rage, I realize you are magnificent. If he got one look at what was his, he'd kill any man who dared glance twice at you."

"I'm not his yet! We haven't exchanged vows."

"Will you cry off?" he asked. If she did he would propose to her himself.

A frown marred her lovely brow as she thought over her alternatives. She couldn't stay here. In fact, she didn't quite know how she was going to face everyone tomorrow.

"In all fairness I should tell you that if you do go through with it, you will be Lady Devonport."

She brightened instantly. "Then I shall do it!"

"You'd marry him just for the title?" he demanded.

She flared. "He's marrying me for my land—a fair exchange, don't you think?" Then it dawned on her. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Matthew—that means you have just lost your father." She knelt beside him, instantly contrite and filled with tender concern. Matthew squeezed her hand. "His strength was so diminished, it was a blessing, really. He wouldn't have wanted to live like that."

"I'm sorry for your loss. My father died when I was four. People thought I was too young to understand, but I wasn't. I mourned and grieved for him so very long. He was the only person who ever loved me. He was my friend."

"I'd like to be your friend, Sabre," he said softly.

"Matt … how lovely. I do feel comfortable with you. When I curse, you don't mind; when I rage, you laugh. I shock everyone, it's my stock-in-trade, but you are wonderfully shockproof."

"I'll be the perfect foil for your wickedest thoughts," he teased.

"Oh, you won't just listen to me, you'll aid and abet me," she promised as she picked up the silver flask. "May I have some more?"

"Slowly, Sabre," he cautioned, "you sip it slowly so you don't gag. It's brandy. Don't breathe in before you take a sip or the fumes will make you choke. If you take a large swallow, it will feel like it's burning a hole in your gut."

She was pleased with her first lessons in learning to drink. Matt was going to prove an invaluable ally. "Oh, God's blood, Matt, how will I face them all tomorrow? They'll be falling down laughing; they'll be kicking their legs in the air laughing at me."

"Sabre, your stepfather has sent messages canceling the church ceremony and reception. We will exchange the vows privately in his study. Then we'll leave if your trunks are packed. You will be Lady Devonport. The title gives you much authority."

"Authority? Mmm, authority … oh, how I love the feel of that word on my tongue," she said with a smile. "Did you bring money?" she asked suddenly.

"Of course. I have five hundred pounds for you and five hundred pounds for your father. Of course, on top of that there are funds you can draw on for any expenses at Blackmoor. Hawk explains it in his letter."

Her eyes lit up. "Come on, let's go and give Reverend Bishop his blood money!" She took his hand and propelled him to the door. Her hair flew about her shoulders like pale molten copper, and his heart turned over in his breast at her handclasp. Holding her head erect, Sabre swept into the drawing room with Matthew at her back.

Everyone stopped talking instantly and stared in amazement. Only when she had everyone's undivided attention did she announce, "Lord Devonport's brother has a settlement for you, Reverend Bishop. Matthew, pray give him five hundred pounds, and be sure to get a receipt for my account book." She turned to her eldest sister. "Jane, have the servants pack my trousseau in my trunks and take special care with my wedding gown. I'm sure Lord Devonport will insist upon a second wedding so he may say his vows to me personally. Matthew and I are going out on business. I've decided to buy back Black Sabbath. I shall take my own horse aboard with me. Did you know that Lord Devonport's brother captains his own vessel? Oh, I'm sure you did. The Hawkhursts are legendary, are they not?"

She swept out with Matthew in her wake. He waited until he was outside before he bent double with laughter. This young woman was a delight, but better than that, he knew she was a match for anything his brother could dish out.

Early in the morning Sabre sought out her mother and said her good-byes privately. She knew her mother's life would run much smoother with her out of the way. She almost felt as if their roles were reversed as she kissed her mother's brow and whispered farewell. She was startled when her mother pressed her hand and whispered, "I loved your father to distraction. I don't think any woman can withstand a wild Irishman once he has marked you for his own."

Later in the day she stood in the reverend's study and exchanged the vows. How strange that Matthew spoke the vows as if he were his brother. "I, Shane, take thee Sara …" So that's what S. Hawkhurst stands for, she thought. Why does he have an Irish name? She would find out. Yes, she would find out everything there was to know about Shane Hawkhurst, Lord Devonport.

The heavy gold ring was slipped onto her finger and the short ceremony was completed. She had heard her sisters' spiteful giggling throughout. She and Matthew stayed only long enough for fruit cordial and wedding cake, then the trunks were loaded into the carriage that would convey them to the ship and then be returned. Matthew's horse and Sabbath were tied to the back of the carriage, as he would sit inside with the new bride for the eighteen-mile drive to the ship.

She wore a lovely apricot traveling dress and matching cloak. She knew she had never looked lovelier. Matthew was about to hand her into the carriage when she begged him to wait there for her while she went back into the priory to say good-bye properly to her family.

They were all there except her mother, who was having a quiet weep upstairs. She swept her eyes over Beth and Andrew, Margaret and John, then Jane and David. She flicked her gaze to Reverend Bishop, and the corners of her mouth went up wickedly. "Well, it's been a slice of heaven being a part of this family. Since I won't be seeing any of you again, I have some sisterly advice for you. Beth, your new husband thinks you a little girl in bed … after knowing me." Into the shocked silence she plunged again. "Margaret, I really did swim naked in the lake, but John forgot to mention that he swam with me." Her eyes swept across the room. "Jane, darling, when you go to bed tonight, ask David to show you the little brand I put on his belly."

"Sabre Wilde, you are a disgusting trollop," said Margaret, using the worst word she'd ever uttered.

Reverend Bishop was outraged. "You are a shameless, wanton strumpet."

Sabre's eyes glittered dangerously. "Yes, and my name is Lady Devonport."

Jane said coldly, "Devonport, perhaps … Lady, never!"

She swept regally from the house, but once inside the carriage her eyes welled up with tears and spilled over as she sobbed out her unhappiness.

Matthew's arms closed about her. He held her tightly against his chest and murmured soothing words to comfort her. Finally, when she couldn't cry more, she raised her eyes to his and the tears glistened upon her lashes like diamonds. He bent his head and kissed her gently. He could not help himself. Suddenly her laughter bubbled up and spilled over deliciously. With great chagrin he asked, "May I know why my kisses amuse you?"

"Oh, Matthew, up until today I'd only been kissed by a brother-in-law, and now I've still only been kissed by a brother-in-law!"

Sabre watched Matthew gentle and calm the horses to get them aboard. She was amazed when he showed her the section of the hold that contained heavily timbered stalls. "We transport horses quite frequently," he told her. "Most come from Ireland, then we ship them to Holland, France, even as far as Morocco, then once in a while we'll bring back Arabians from that part of the world. All Hawkhurst ships sail with special grooms who do nothing but look after the animals."

The ship fascinated her. She had had no idea how many crew it took to sail a seagoing vessel. She took an avid interest in everything and the seventy-man crew returned the compliment.

Matthew insisted she take his cabin for the overnight run to Blackmoor, and he moved into the quarters of his first mate. It was small but very comfortably furnished, with sleeping berth, desk, leather-upholstered chairs, built-in cabinets, and a fine wool carpet to keep the chill of the sea from seeping into one's bones.

Sabre begged him to let her come up on deck with him so she could watch the Devon Rose catch the flood tide down the Severn and into the Bristol Channel. Matthew led her up to the bridge, bade her hang tight to the railings, then, bracing himself against the roll and sway of the ship, he raised his voice and shouted his first order. The tackle creaked overhead and it caused Sabre's gaze to wander aloft. She gasped as she saw small figures moving about in the rigging, readying the mainsail for unfurling from its yard. They hung like monkeys with only an arm crooked over a spar, waiting for just the right moment to catch the breeze as they moved out into the open water of the Bristol Channel.

Her eyes sought Matthew's and he grinned down at her, taking pleasure in watching her excitement.

"Port the helm," he ordered, and his voice was carried by the wind the whole length of the vessel. "The land to starboard is Wales—a wild place."

She nodded vigorously.

"Sky's coloring up, we should have a showy sunset— just for you," he said, grinning.

The salty tang of sea wrack filled her nostrils. The stiff sea breeze had taken the hood of her cloak from her head, and her hair flew about in wild disarray. Seabirds screamed and dipped around the tall masts, and the sound of the ship's bow cutting through the waves set up a rhythm she could feel in her blood. She had never experienced such an exultant feeling of freedom in her life. In that moment she experienced a rebirth. This was her beginning. She was going to meet her future head on. Never again would she let anyone make a victim out of her. She knew she was strong-willed. From this moment forward, she vowed, she would take the cup of life into both hands and quaff deeply. She would do exactly as she pleased. She would live well; she would take her sweet revenge, and it would taste like nectar. She filled her lungs with the intoxicating tang of the sea air and swore an oath that now she had begun really living, nothing would ever stop her again. She mapped out her course as she stood at the railing. It was all so very simple. Of course Matthew would object strenuously, but she laughed aloud, for she knew she had already conquered one Hawkhurst and now she just had one more to go. She licked her lips over the poor bastard!

Blackmoor Hall was craggy and windswept. Its atmosphere of mystery and isolation gave the impression that it was located at the end of the world. Matthew was embarrassed to be taking her to so wild and lonely a place and offered an apology every few minutes, starting when a ferocious pack of Irish wolfhounds almost attacked them before they were through the gates and their keeper had to whip them off.

Sabre fell in love with the place on sight, but she kept her true feelings from Matthew. He introduced her to the entire household as Lady Devonport and the head housekeeper, a handsome woman with cheeks like Devon apples, presented her with the enormous ring of chatelaine keys.

Matthew gave personal orders to the cooks to prepare enough food for his crew and told two of his sailors to take aboard fifty casks of cider from Blackmoor's wine cellars. Sabre and Matthew took supper alone in the parlor, where a cozy fire had been built. For though the day had been filled with sunshine, it hadn't penetrated the thick stone walls of Blackmoor and they welcomed the warmth as they sat before it.

Wisely Sabre had waited until Matt was replete with good food and wine before she told him her plans.

"Absolutely not! My brother would have my—brains!"

"Matt, you did exactly as he asked. You stood in for him at the wedding ceremony and you delivered me safely to Blackmoor. Your duty is finished, ended. I don't intend to go to court as Lady Devonport. My aunt is Kate Ashford, mistress of the queen's robes. She wrote to tell me she needs assistance." Sabre wasn't exactly lying, and anyway, she was prepared to do more than lie to get what she wanted.

"When my brother finds out, our lives will not be worth a penn'orth of parrot shit!"

"There's no way he could possibly find out unless you tell him, Matt! He married Sara Bishop … I'm Sabre Wilde."

"You're mad! It would be playing with fire! Dammit, Sabre, why do you look pleased as hell when I say that?" he demanded.

"Well, you might be afraid of him, but I'm not!" She threw out the challenge.

"'Tis impossible. Though court is bulging at the seams, you couldn't be an anonymous face in the crowd … you'd stand out anywhere. Believe me when I tell you my brother would notice you."

"In other words Shane Hawkhurst is a womanizer?" she asked.

"Where women are concerned, Hawkhurst is a bloody predator, as his name suggests," said Matt bluntly.

"Good! I intend to become his mistress," she announced with green fire flashing from her eyes. "I will call the tune and I will lead the measure."

Matthew stared at her as if she had gone mad. "You'll pay the bloody piper too. The answer is no!" he shouted.

The corners of her mouth went up. Matt was her friend, he wouldn't leave her here to rot! She'd see to that!