FicWad

CHAPTER FOUR

The land on this side of the estate retained its large palms and old trees, although ground scrub had undergone regular removal. I didn’t expect to get off the island. I just needed to move, stretch my legs without bumping into a guard of any sort.

I walked without ambition or aim, ducking under branches, lifting my skirt to step over little flowering clusters of flora. During my days here I’d rarely seen anyone besides Eza or one of the five or six maids. As I skirted the property, I wondered if I’d encounter a gardener or other outdoor hand. At liberty I felt more alive. I breathed deep and walked with a springy step.

As I topped the hill’s crest, the trees broke and I could see the ocean a mile or more away on this wayward side of the island. Here and there, structures peeked through the trees. Several fields stood out, dark brown amid the green.

I heard a noise and spun around.

“Bonjour.” A young man, more boy really stood at the clearing’s edge. His skin bore the brand of the Caribbean sun.

I imagined I had found the yard laborer I’d wondered about moments earlier.

“Parlez Francais?” He paused, gaze moving over me in a manner I recognized too well. “Espanol? Spreek het Nederlands?”

“I’m British, “ I said.

“I’ve never seen skin like yours, so white and fine.” Speaking English he gave away his Colonist accent.

Alarm stabbed me. I didn’t dare let him smell my fear. “I’ll burn easily, I should return to the house.”

“You came from the villa?”

“Yes.” Better to have myself hauled back to jail by a gardener than find myself fending off his advances.

“You’re that woman he brought ashore all wrapped up.” He took a few steps. “No wonder. Hair that many colors. Reds and browns, some of it almost white. Man might never be lucky enough to see the like in his dreams. Let alone right in front of him.”

My serious error in judgment became terribly obvious. “Excuse me, they must be calling for me by now.”

“One of the stable boys rode out lickety-split. But nobody was calling. I followed you.”

“All the same, I’m expected.” I turned and walked past him, back the way I came. He fell in beside me then suddenly blocked my path. Lust burned in his eyes. I had to use what weapon I could. “I belong to El Pantera.”

“He took you. That’s our way. Maybe I’ll take you from him.” His last statement seemed to take root after he heard it spoken aloud. His gaze settled on my breasts, then lifted slowly to my mouth.

I attempted to step around him. He moved again. Though young, he stood at least six feet tall with the muscle a life like his demanded. Fear crawled through me. I tried to stay calm. Years ago I’d learned fear whetted their appetites.

“I know how to please a woman,” he said. A husky quality in his voice sent a warning I recognized on a primitive level. I didn’t doubt he’d enjoyed his share, being handsome and healthy.

I blushed. “Please let me pass.”

“Give me a kiss.”

The cheek, fumed that inner voice. I kept my composure. “I will not negotiate in such a manner.”

It baited him. He hauled me into his arms, his mouth coming down on mine. I turned my face away, shoving at him. He buried his lips against my throat. Already, spots swam before my eyes from the nefarious corset. I smelled sea air and soap on him. He toppled me to the ground. I twisted and fought, accomplishing little more than causing him to groan. His weight pressed me to the ground, lips and nose in my hair. My lungs squeezed, vision dimmed. Soon I’d faint and he’d meet no resistance.

Suddenly his weight left me. I dragged in a long breath. The sickening sound of crunching bone reached me. A dull, meaty thunk followed. Walks Softly stood above me, blotting out the sun. He lifted me to my feet, steadying me, his black gaze seeking damage. For a strangely clear moment, I realized the soft, hide boots, leather leggings and sort of apron the Indian wore had never offended me. Sometimes, as today, he wore a loose shirt of tan linen. Sometimes none at all. I hadn’t paid the much mind until now.

El Pantera stood over my would-be rapist. The young man sprawled upon the ground, nose fairly smashed, blood all over his face.

The captain strode to us, glared at me with eyes blue-green as any tropical water. He pointed behind him. “Do you see what your little act of defiance has wrought.” Fury radiated in palpable waves. His voice remained even, but frigid, brittle with leashed wrath. “He was lured by the sight of you, tempted beyond his ability to control himself. I cannot let the affront pass, Lady Rothington. I will stripe his back for your foolishness.”

My clarity vanished, leaving an anxious sense of having escaped something terrible to suffer another horror. El Pantera swore under his breath. He seemed enraged enough to do murder as he strode toward two horses waiting just down the hill. I hadn’t seen them, or heard them approach.

The captain barked something in Algonquin. Walks Softly whistled and a white horse spotted with black cantered to us. It stood tall and lean like a hunting horse. I’d never seen such a coat, and it wore no saddle.

“I will give you a leg up.”

It required two tries. My bones seemed jointed in unfamiliar new places, soft as aspic and unsupportive. He rather vaulted over the steed’s rump to land lightly behind me. Only the strength of his arm and my trust in his protection granted peace during the downhill ride. I’d never ridden without the security of stirrups.

We cut through a heavy copse to reach a shell road. I thought of what almost happened to me. He squeezed me lightly. “You are safe.”

I considered my situation, laughed unsteadily. “Am I?” We continued downward until I realized we’d past the villa. “Where do we go?”

“Town common.”

“There’s a town?” Any knowledge I committed to memory. He fell silent and I did not feel comforted. “Walks Softly?”

A long moment slid by before he answered. “Yes.”

“You would warn me if something bad were going to happen?”

For too long he said nothing. He halted the horse, unbraided, finger-combed and re-braided my hair. I felt him secure it with the ribbon Eza had an hour or so earlier. Then he snugged me close to his hard body, nudged the horse forward. “Prepare yourself.”

Angst twisted me. I cowered against Walks Softly’s reassuring warmth as we emerged into the town. It might have been a small, yet prosperous village near my family’s manor. People walked in the direction we rode. Scents of baking bread and fresh fish wafted in the air. The people here seemed better off than many I’d seen in England or Jamaica. They glanced at me, equal mixes of curious, awed and rancor-filled looks, then moved onward.

A group accumulated thirty or forty paces out from a tall post. Tied to it, the young man who’d attempted to force himself. As we approached, I saw a hole bored far up the post housed a loop of the rope binding his purpling wrists. He slumped unconscious.

El Pantera stood within the inner circle created by the gathering crowd. Towering over the crowd rimming the common. He held out his hand. A small, trim man hurried to bring him what appeared a length of dark rope. The captain looked at me as his hand closed around it. “Bring water,” I heard him say to the same man.

Walks Softly dismounted. He reached up for me. I went into his arms and let him lower me to the ground. I tried to ignore the fear in my belly. My situation had been tenuous. At this moment, it bordered on explosive.

I stood at the edge of the common, feeling very small and vulnerable.

El Pantera held that dark coil. He speared me with his gaze, then spread the visual sear around.

“Did I not forbid any contact with the woman I brought ashore?” he demanded.

I lowered my head, stared at the ground.

“This boy,” El Pantera growled, “chose to ignore my edict. He will suffer the consequences.”

Against my will, my gaze lifted. El Pantera nodded to the small man he’d spoken with earlier. The man sloshed the contents of the bucket into my would-be-rapist’s face. He coughed and sputtered awake. The water picked up the stain of blood, running his face and neck in pink rivulets. He assessed his situation with what appeared an attempt at manly fortitude.

The man with the bucket tossed it aside. He drew a small knife from his belt sheath, walked behind the bound youth and cut the shirt from neck to waist, exposing brown skin.

I understood what the captain held. A long whip.

El Pantera waited until the man put away his knife and trotted clear. “John Tanner, “ he began in a cold voice, “have you anything to say in your defense?”

The youth closed his eyes, rested his forehead upon the post. “No, sir.”

The captain flicked his wrist, sending the lash uncoiling. I didn’t have time to prepare myself for the near-deafening noise of the whip. He twirled it overhead once to make certain it moved freely, then in swift succession, cracked the lash over the young man’s back five times. The recipient sagged in his restraints. He vomited, but did not scream.

I stared in horror at the ripped expanse that a moment ago had been unmarked skin. It seemed almost as the last blow had fallen, the captain stood recoiling the whip. “Let the mark of my lash be a reminder my word is law.”

I thought I might become ill. El Pantera strode toward me and I took a step backward, bumping into Walks Softly. I wondered for a wild moment if I would take my attacker’s place beneath his long whip. He grabbed my hand, wiped the end of the coiled lash over my palm leaving a trail of gore.

“Be thankful I gave my word to keep you unharmed,” he said quietly, the threat of violence as loud as the cracks of his whip had been. He looked at his friend. “Get her from my sight.”

I stared at the blood on my hand and couldn’t seem to catch my breath. Walks Softy had me, then himself on the horse and we rode back the way we’d come. It grew more difficult to draw an even breath. I felt myself sway. Then the next heartbeat it seemed, I was on my knees, the crushed shells biting through the fabric of my clothing, retching miserably. Vaguely I realized the Indian held back my braid and supported me. But for the strength of his arm I would have pitched forward.

When the spasms slowed and I regained some stability, he took off his shirt, wiped my face, then rubbed as much blood from my hand as possible without the aide of water.

“He must never show weakness,” Walks Softly said. “If even once he allows an affront to pass, it would ruin his reputation. That reputation, more often than not, makes men lay down their arms rather than fight when they see who fires across their bow.”

“His ruthlessness eases the way for his greed,” I concluded, weak but thin-skinned nonetheless.

“It saves lives.”

“Do not dare defend him to me,” I shot back. “He’s ruined me in the eyes of society. I’ll be banished to a nunnery or worse.” I pushed away his hand as he reached to help my rise. Unsteadily, I stood. “He sought to punish me for having another suffer for my deed. But what has he done to me, if not the same?”

“I do not agree with his taking you. Though I understand his reason.”

I stood there, overwhelmed by my circumstances, the violence I’d seen and my inability to control anything around me. Anger began to bloom, a dark fortifying flower, low in my belly. “If ever I have the privilege of seeing him dance at the end of a rope, I shall rejoice.”


CHAPTER FIVE

Two nights after the whipping, I still had great difficulty sleeping. I stretched out upon my back, awake for a long time, listening to the wind rustle the palms, the whirring chirping music of nocturnal insects, before tossing back the covers and getting from the bed. I put a thin dressing gown over my nightrail and went to the door to test it. Unlocked, it opened slowly under my tentative hand.

A single hours candle burned in the empty bedroom. The neat bed gave me cause to think perhaps the captain slept elsewhere, or remained out carousing. Emboldened, I continued to the portal leading into the hall. I found it unbolted as well. Wall sconces held small candles in wavy glass containers. They lit my way to the stairs.

Earlier that afternoon, I had discovered a cupboard of books in what Eza referred to as the reading room. I thought to practice my reading and try to fill the sleepless hours. As I reached the bottom of the stairs, I saw a spill of light down the east hall. It appeared to come from the big dining room where I took most of my meals. A sudden sound of a familiar male voices speaking Algonquin paralyzed me. Caught like a thief, I stood motionless.

My heartbeat slowed. I regained control of myself and on bare feet, padded closer.

Walks Softly gave a short, low bark of laughter. “The rum has you,” he said in English. “I can it tell when you begin to butcher my language.”

“I’m not swilling this to remain sober,” the captain growled, words without slur.

“I knew this would happen. It’s why I stayed tonight.”

I flattened myself against the wall, as close as I dared to the door.

“Knew what would bloody happen?” Glass tapped against glass. I could hear the liquid slosh.

“I know how it pained you.”

“What?” the captain snapped. “You sound like a woman.”

“Perhaps no one else was the wiser,” Walks Softly pressed, evidently unaffected by the insult, “but I know.”

Hesitation. I heard a glass set roughly upon the table. “Enlighten me.”

“When you whipped that boy, you gave no pause between lashes.” A short silence. “You made certain to keep the lash clear of the ground. So, the lash would remain clean, less likely to infect.”

“I opened his back.”

Walks Softly replied, “Yes, with great precision. No cut too deep, all close together in a row to make healing easier. Do not forget, white brother, I knew James Garrett long before the world knew The Panther. Before hatred and revenge lived in his heart.”

A hot thrill raced through me. His name was James. James Garrett. Knowing sent that curious sensation twining through me. The same feeling that had beleaguered me aboard the ship when I listened to him at his bath.

To the Devil with him, whispered that hateful little voice, now you may present his name to the governor.

The captain’s words emerged slow and measured, laced with temper. “Why would I take such care as I whipped an attempted rapist?”

“You understood how he felt. How her beauty tested him.”

A chair scraped the floor and I heard glass smash. He’d gotten to his feet, I feared. Frozen, I pressed the wall, hoping he would not emerge.

The scent of rum wafted into the hall. He’d hurled his libation. Long moments knitted themselves together, and nothing happened.

Walks Softly broke the silence. “What did your mother sometimes say to you and Henry? Tell the truth, shame the Devil?”

The name ’Henry’ perked my ears, and it seemed strange to hear someone reference the Devil seconds after I had internally.

“Yes. She said it often.” The captain’s temper seemed to have abated.

“You want her.”

Did he mean me? El Pantera desire me, as in the carnal fashion?

“When I stepped into that cabin, I had to choose between my word, my revenge, and her.”

Heaven’s above! He did speak of me! That unwelcome tingling warmth moved over my skin, through my blood.

“Every time I set eyes upon her,” the captain went on, tone harsher, temper returning, “I must face the same decision.”

That inner voice hissed, the arrogance! To assume he’d but to beckon and I would fall into his arms! I felt my hands curl into fists, my eyes narrow.

Deciding to leave while the leaving remained good, I stole back the way I’d come. I flew up the stairs, through the hall and through the captain’s boudoir to mine. Closing the door, I leaned against it. I replayed the conversation, turning it this way and that, weighing words. It appeared I possessed a weapon against my captor. His own male lust.

A weapon, indeed, but did I dare use it?

#

The next morning when Eza arrived to take me down the breakfast, I had gathered my nerve, wit and wile. Society would damn me no matter what. My family might disown me. I did not even dare believe my fiancé would surrender himself to save a ruined woman he could never marry.

I was entirely on my own.

She helped me bathe, dab on the rose oil Walks Softly had sent me a day earlier, and then dress in a white cotton blouse that dipped a bit where it counted, long blue skirt and sandals. I’d had her lace me rather tight, and as I studied my reflection, I decided the stifling squeeze worth bearing. My breasts swelled above the blouse’s neckline. I thought the blue of the skirt made the brown of my large, wide-set eyes brighter, my skin whiter. I had the girl braid my hair only to my shoulders, secure it with a blue ribbon and leave the rest to tumble free past my hips.

I held my own gaze in the mirror. My resolve steeled. I would use my beauty to bait his lust. But how far?

I decided that would remain a question for another time. I must match his ruthlessness or fall complete, helpless victim to it.

Downstairs, I announced, “I would like to go out today. Inform your master he may accompany me, or experience a public scene dragging me up to my room.”

I glided into the dining room to break my fast with cold melon, warm salty ham and creamed tea. Throughout my meal I reviewed and dissected the conversation that had taken place here last night. I’d hardly finished my victuals when I heard his boots upon the teak floor. Part of me wished to panic and back down from my ultimatum. Not the strongest part, it would seem.

He stepped into the room, huge and charging the air with hostility. His lion’s mane resided in a sedate club at his nape. Garbed shirt to high boots in black, he possessed a savage aristocracy. “Lady Rothington,” his tone could evoke snow in these warm climes, “I’m informed you desire a confrontation.”

“No,” I sipped tea, set the cup upon its saucer, “I desire an outing.”

“Then by all means, the Earth should cease in its elliptic and reorder its path to please.” A muscle along his jaw worked. I wonder if he gritted his teeth.

“Would it please you to be so shut away as I?”

That strategy worked once. Not this time, I learned.

“When I find myself in your position, I shall send you an answer in all haste.”

I realized a physical confrontation might better serve me. However, the idea of tangling bodies with him made me feel dizzier than climbing over that courtyard wall. “I intend to go out.”

“I can’t have you inciting another attack.”

“I did not incite anything.” Genuine anger gave me strength. “I no more asked to be molested than I requested abduction. It would appear, sir,” I let that word drip from my mouth like venom, “I am merely guilty of being in the path of male marauding.”

Just a flicker of something passed through the blue-green eyes. “Very well, Lady Rothington. I will send for Walks Softly. He will take you riding.” he inclined his head, graceful and indulgent as a courtier. “If that meets with your approval?”

It did not, yet I dared not tip my hand. In similar fashion, I replied, “It does, and my gratitude.”

He bowed, made a shadow of a leg, and departed.

For several moments, I sipped tea, careful of my shakiness, and contemplated my next move.