The Hellion Bride (Sherbrooke Brides 2)

Thomas was a cruel monster. Sophie hated him. She fastened her hair at the back of her head with a black velvet ribbon. She rose and looked in the mir­ror. In the old pale yellow muslin gown she looked about sixteen. The only discordant note was the faintly greenish bruise on her left cheek. She had no intention of putting on the powder. It didn't mat­ter. Besides, in the dim evening light, no one would notice. And if Uncle Theo did, why it would probably give him pleasure.

She said over her shoulder, "If you were master here, Jeremy, would you keep Thomas as your over­seer? Or another man like him who would whip the slaves?"

Jeremy chewed on his lower lip, swinging his legs, his energy overflowing despite his mental contem­plation.

"I don't know," he said at last. "Uncle Theo seems to think Thomas is very good. He trusts him and allows him to do just as he likes. It's just that—"

"What?"

Jeremy shrugged and rose. "Well, I've known most of the slaves since we came here over four years ago. Most of them are my friends. I like them and they like me. I don't understand why you would want to hit someone you liked. And it's so hot in the fields, Sophie. I know I wanted to rest after a while. They never get to rest."

She ruffled his hair and kissed his brow, risking a little boy's horror at such a motherly act. Jeremy squirmed away from her and out of her bedchamber. "Come on, Sophie!"

She drew to a stop at the bottom step of the stairs. She stared, her heart pounding. There, standing in the large open foyer, was Ryder Sherbrooke, looking like an English gentleman from his brushed pale brown hair to his glossy Hessian boots.

Uncle Theo had just welcomed him in.

Ryder looked up and saw her. He blinked, he couldn't help it. The tart in the red gown from the night before bore no resemblance to this young girl standing there, mouth agape, staring at him as if he were the devil himself come to claim her for the fourth circle of hell.

Theo Burgess turned at that moment and a spasm crossed his face. Damn the girl, she looked like a virgin of fifteen, certainly not like she should look. He wanted to hit her for her defiance; he disre­garded the fact that Ryder Sherbrooke was entirely unexpected.

"Hello, Sophia," Ryder said very calmly. "Your uncle has seen fit to take me in. I am to dine with you. Ah, and who is this?"

"I'm Jeremy, sir. I'm Sophie's brother." Jeremy walked with his clumsy gait, his hand outstretched.

Ryder smiled down at the boy and shook his hand. "How do you do, Jeremy? I hadn't realized Sophia had such a large younger brother."

"Sophie says I grow faster than the swamp grass. I'm nine years old, sir."

"He's a good lad," Theo said, his voice testy.

Sophie was standing there, frozen, waiting. Would Ryder look at Jeremy with contempt or pity? She didn't know which was worse. People had looked at him with both and it was all horrible. Ryder had been a perfect gentleman thus far but she didn't trust him, not an inch. Perhaps he hadn't yet real­ized that Jeremy wouldn't grow up to be perfect like him.

Jeremy beamed up at the man he recognized immediately as a real gentleman. He was young and handsome and well dressed, and there was a very nice smile on his face, a smile that reached his eyes. Jeremy also realized that he must be here because of Sophie. He turned to his sister and called out, "He's having dinner with us, Sophie. Isn't that grand?"

"Yes," she said, forcing a smile that was ghastly. "That's just grand."

Ryder saw the marked resemblance between brother and sister. He also saw that Jeremy had a lame left leg, probably a clubfoot. It was a pity, but it didn't seem to slow the boy down a bit. He was a handsome lad and seemingly well adjusted. He chattered all the way into the dining room to Ryder, who found him both amusing and intelligent. He reminded him very much of Oliver. Ah, how he missed Oliver and the other children.

Theo Burgess tried to sidetrack Jeremy, but it didn't work. It seemed that the man was truly fond of the boy. He didn't order him to be quiet. He mere­ly shook his head at him and smiled at Ryder as if to say, What can I do?

Sophie said nothing at all.

"My sister is the best rider in the entire area," Jeremy said. "Maybe on all of Jamaica, but I've never been to Kingston so I can't be certain."

"Thank you, Jeremy," Sophie said, smiling at her knight, a quite beautiful unconscious smile that made Ryder draw in his breath. She looked about fifteen and that smile lit up her face. It made her look very different, very appealing, really, and he didn't like it. At that instant he realized it was the very first time he had ever seen her smile.

What the hell was going on here?

He looked down at the delicious curried shrimp with pineapple. He speare

d a shrimp and chewed it thoughtfully. The boy was speaking again, telling his uncle and Ryder about his hours spent with Thomas in the fields.

Sophie noticed that he didn't mention Thomas whipping the slaves.

The dinner was pleasant, finished off by mango pie topped with warm cream. The rich Jamaican cof­fee was thick and black and wonderful, as usual.

Ryder bided his time. He enjoyed the boy. He shook his hand when he was dismissed to his bed. When Theo Burgess asked him if he would like to adjourn to the veranda where it was much cooler, he readily agreed. Every man he'd met on Jamaica imbibed rum in the evenings. It was time for the ritual to begin. It was time to put his plan into action.