Roanoke (The Keepers of the Ring) by Angela Hunt, Angela Elwell Hunt Read Free Book Online

hostage.”
    “I understand, sir,” Audrey answered, scurrying to get her mistress’s shoes.
    Robert lowered himself to a stool and coughed gently into a handkerchief as he stared at his only child. She was so beautiful, and so like her mother! Her dark brown eyes, fringed now in sleep with a thick row of sooty lashes, could change his mood from melancholy to merriment with a single twinkle. Her nose was slender and fine, and her delicate mouth the perfect punctuation point for her lovely and graceful features. A fallen ringlet of her hair threw her brow into shadow, and he resisted the impulse to run his fingers through her curls one last time.
    He was sending her away to live. Though she would be angry and possibly heartbroken by his treachery, she would not die from his contagious disease, nor would she waste her life in sorrow mourning his death. John had already made arrangements for Jocelyn; his letter held glowing words about a suitable candidate for her husband.
    Carriage wheels churned the gravel outside the house and Audrey leapt to her feet. “I ’ll see if the carriage is outside,” she said, eager to exit the uncomfortable leave-taking.
    Robert nodded, then rose and stood over his sleeping daughter. The slender gold band shone on her right hand, and he held her palm to his heart and breathed a prayer for his daughter ’s happiness as a veil of tears obscured the lovely vision from his eyes.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Five
     
     
    J ocelyn was moving, rolling, flying, floating, sinking on a dark bed that had neither form nor substance. Muffled noises reached her ears and faded away: the pebbly clatter from wheels upon a road, a murmur of voices, odd wind-borne sounds. Her lips and throat were parched, then someone placed a cup to her mouth and she drank thirstily until blackness surrounded her again.
     
     
    A soft breeze blew past her cheek. She slowly became aware of the sound of men ’s voices, the creak and groan of wood, and the flap of canvas. She felt rough wool beneath her hands, and linen against her cheek. Her eyelids were heavy, unable to open, and a palpable unease enfolded her. Was she ill? Was she dead?
    In time, the fog lifted, and Jocelyn opened her eyes. She lay on a straw-stuffed mattress in a small room with open windows in one wall. Audrey sat on a stool near the door, her head buried in a book.
    “Audrey?” The maid jumped. “Och, Miss Jocelyn, how you gave me a start! How are you feeling?”
    Jocelyn sat up and raised her hand to block out the bright sunlight as a sharp stabbing pain ripped through her head. “Oh! My head hurts. Where are we?” She lowered her hand to look out the windows, but from the edge of the windowsill to the horizon there was nothing to see but water and blue sky.
    Audrey lowered her book and took a deep breath. “We’re aboard the Lion , Miss Jocelyn, your Uncle John’s ship. He put ye in his cabin ‘till ye woke, then we’re to join Mistress Eleanor with the other passengers.”
    “Passengers? Surely we ’re not—”
    Audrey didn ’t answer, but she didn’t need to. The truth hit Jocelyn like a slap in the face, and her blood rose in a jet. Her father had betrayed her! Uncle John, Eleanor, Audrey, the lot of them! They had placed her on a ship to Virginia regardless of her wishes, and had undoubtedly drugged her in order to accomplish their treacherous deed.
    She rose to her unsteady feet and opened the cabin door. “Uncle John!” she screamed, not caring who heard her on the deck beyond. “John White! Where is he?”
    A grizzled sailor passing by the doorway gave her a lecherous wink and Jocelyn was suddenly aware of her loose hair and disheveled appearance. What must the ship’s crew be thinking? Had she been brought aboard in a sailor’s arms like a drunken strumpet?
    “Oh!” she cried, humiliation stinging her. She darted back inside the cabin and slammed the door, then covered her scarlet face with her hands. “What have