FicWad

CHAPTER SIX

Walks Softly came riding that handsome, if odd-pattered horse he favored. The dark gelding we’d ridden when I arrived came to the front of the house lead by one of the energetic black boys. Eza had braided my hair to the tip, coiled it at my nape, and tied a large kerchief to cover it. I wondered at the wisdom of riding in sandals, yet there appeared no help for it.

It pleased me the gelding did not wear a side saddle. Walks Softly hopped to the ground, gave me a leg up and vaulted astride his bare-backed mount. He smiled a little, the hint of mirth softening his austere visage.

“How old are you?” The question sprang from me unbidden.

He laughed. “Not yet thirty winters, Lady Lili.”

“Just ‘Lili’. Your captain took the ‘lady’ when he took me. Why do you laugh?”

He nudged his horse. I set the gelding behind, walking sedately down the shell road. At the first fork, we turned left. Right led to town. This territory I had not seen.

“I laugh at myself.”

I touched my heels to the horse’s warm sides. He trotted to come abreast the other horse. I reined the gelding back, noting his soft-mouthed responsiveness. I made a mental note to use the bit gently. “If you laugh at yourself,” I challenged, smiling myself, “why did you do so at my question?”

He glanced sideways at me. “I’ve come to believe few people mean what they say. You seem to say only what you mean.”

Without resentment toward him, I replied, “I haven’t the luxury of artifice with you. Despite the tranquil appearance, I wage the fight of my life.”

“I see nothing tranquil. I see you sending a grown man running at the toss of a secondhand gauntlet.”

He meant my sending the ultimatum through Eza. “You should have seen her face when I said that, poor girl.”

“Are you equal to a more strenuous outing?”

A bantering dare if ever I heard one. “Perhaps.”

“This road leads to the wayward side of the island. So long as you make no turn, you will reach the ocean.”

“Ahead of you!” I squeezed the gelding. “Hyah!” He broke with admirable power. I stood in the irons, shortened my reins to lean over his neck. Hand-galloping him, I coaxed speed from him with ease. His long stride ate the ground. As my brother taught me, I looked back under my arm, not over my shoulder.

Walks Softly’s big horse had flattened out, but hadn’t hit his full speed, I wagered. The animal’s wide chest promised a big heart and powerful lungs.

The gelding reacted to my asking, rather than demanding. He leveled, stretching out with his neck. I stayed low, angling my body to thwart the corset’s restrictions. I should like to see that indian doing this with half his breath cut off and his back made straight with whalebone.

I felt the coil at my nape loosening, the kerchief blowing ever back. The wind brought tears to my eyes. I relished the sun, the exhilaration. The thunder of hooves seemed sweet music. Glancing back under again, I noted the horse’s expression. He was behind the bit, and wanted loosed.

“Don’t you dare let me win!” I yelled, looking forward.

The other horse and rider came abreast of me at once. I kept asking the gelding for speed. I knew it when he topped out, and I just stayed high, making it easier for him. Ahead, I could see the trees parting. We must be close. Walks Softly edged ahead.

I leaned further over his neck, cautious of shifting my weight. I spoke to the gelding, keeping soft contact with his mouth, crooning and praising. He snorted. A ripple passed the length of his body that I felt through the saddle. From down deep, he pulled a burst of speed. As we all broke from the trees, my mount leaped ahead. I commended the gelding’s effort, used my knees to absorb the rise and fall of his back.

He and I shot forward, racing to the surf, sending up a massive spray as we plunged through the incoming waves. I laughed as I had never. Natural, triumphant. I tasted the salt and life of the ocean in the water that misted and peppered my face. For a moment, I felt free.

I turned the gelding with my knees, staying out of his mouth. He gave a deep-throated wuhuhuhuh. Then he lifted one leg and brought it down again and again.

I had managed to achieve a strange freedom. Beyond here be monsters.


CHAPTER SEVEN

Walks Softly halted his mount beyond the surf. I squeezed the gelding and he waded from the sea. My companion’s face held no expression. Black eyes unreadable.

“You’re making ‘indian eyes’ at me,” I pointed out to him.

“I said a prayer to the Great Father no man would see you just now.”

“Let the whippings ensue,” I murmured, turning my mount. More loudly, I suggested, “We should cool them.”

We walked our horses along the beach. Each of us silent, our mounts grateful for the less demanding pace. After a few moments, it dawned upon me. “You are a man. You saw me.”

“That’s different.”

I considered that for a moment, then caught sight of someone out in the sea. “God in Heaven, there is a person out there!” I turned to Walks Softly.

He gazed out to sea. “That is the captain.”

“What is he doing?” A sudden death by drowning might prove convenient, I mused hatefully.

“He swims every day when we’re here.”

As we rode slowly closer, I noticed a tall dark fin prowling not far off to his side. Stark primitive terror ripped through me. “There’s a shark!”

“There are many. Like the stars. The Spanish named this island, Isla de los Tiburones. The island of the sharks.”

I couldn’t imagine willingly entering waters so populated with predators. The captain turned, began making his way toward us, swimming parallel to the beach His arms rose and fell, cutting the water in a strong, steady rhythm. I couldn’t tear my gaze from that fin. Until I noticed two more perhaps twenty paces on his other side.

“Does he see them?” I asked, almost breathless.

“He can even tell them apart.”

I suddenly felt very shaky, gripped by panic. The thought of him slipping peacefully under clear water had been a wicked little notion of my less civilized self. The idea of him slashed and ripped by vicious teeth sickened me. “Why does he risk their hunger? Is he mad?”

“The captain says they are more honest than men.”

I could not grasp the concept of swimming with sharks. One well as might stroll with a hungry wolf. I continued to watch, fascinated, fretful. When he turned and struck out for shore, I urged the gelding ahead. I sat heavily in the saddle.

The largest fin stayed with him as he came nearer to land. Soon I could see the large dark body of the fish, surely twice the length of the captain. It veered away as he entered shallower water. I did not draw a steady breath until he stood, and waded from the surf.

For a moment, my relief obliterated all else.

Then, I truly looked at him.

Heat skidded over my skin.

Water sluiced down his almost bare, sun-browned body, gleaming upon the swell of elegant brawn, beading in his hair like diamonds. He wore only a pair of abbreviated breeches, cut off at the top of his muscular thighs. I took in the bulge of muscle there, the ridged abdomen. Hair and skin all possessed the gleam of gold. I understood how he’d earned his name. The Golden Panther.

He halted, squeezed some of the wetness from his clubbed hair. That rebellious shorter lock fell over his forehead. He swiped it back. In his left ear, the gold hoop glimmered. Then his eyes met mine. Something hot and sudden arced between us. He walked toward me. I trembled. Captive to the power of his presence, I waited.

“Enjoying your outing, Lady Rothington?” Darkness and danger glided under the soft tone.

“Very much.”

“Are the sights my island offers to your liking?”

The moment had arrived to either cower meekly, or launch my campaign. “Very much,” I returned. “I am quite stimulated.”

He wiped water from his face. “You appear flushed.”

“As I said, I am quite stimulated.”

“Perhaps you should seek refuge from the sun.”

I let my gaze eat his beautiful body, taking in far more than a moment ago. So much dark, smooth skin. The V of hair on his chest rather shocked me. Dark as his eyebrows and short, neat, beard and mustache, it tapered sharply to a thin line descending below his indecent breeches. “The sun seems to have a favorable influence here.” A warmth far stronger than its light grew in me. The sight of his near-nakedness evoked a powerful response. I felt nervous and sensitive.

“Not on skin such as yours.”

I smiled, warming to the game. “Should I be flattered or frightened you’ve taken such interest in my skin, captain?”

His gaze pinned me, speculative and bold, and his voice lowered to an intimate hush. “I knew you would be trouble.” He reached down, flipped my skirt back from my foot. My heart nearly stopped at his liberty taking. Yet, I forced myself to remain cool. “This won’t do,” he said, gaze upon my sandal-shod foot. “I shall see you have boots for riding.”

“Surely I am the most pampered captive in all the Spanish Main,” I shot at him, saucy and a touch accusatory.

His attention shifted, his gaze returning to mine. “Indubitably.”

“You’ve made one large error in your far-reaching endeavor, captain. My fiancé, like the rest of the civilized world will consider me so much unpleasant baggage when they learn I’ve been unchaperoned among outlaws. He will not surrender himself to save a ruined woman.”

“No,” he agreed so easily my heart lurched, “but he will to save face before his rivals. They received correspondence from me, as well. I trust their political ambition to turn the screws and force his courage to the sticking place.”

“Well, then, I stand corrected,” I replied with careful lightness. “You’ve thought of everything.”

“I didn’t anticipate you.”

His words fell like stones despite their softness. “Perhaps, then,” I countered, “your plan is flawed after all.”

He adjusted my skirt with measured care, covering my foot. “Careful you do not get burned, Lady Rothington.”

“Just Lili,” I returned. “I must become accustomed to my new status, captain.” I turned the gelding and nudged his sides. “When you took me from the Gallant, you removed my title.”

Behind me, he said nothing. Walks Softly rather materialized at my side, his spotted mount walking with its head lowered, ears and eyes showing marked relaxation.

We did not speak until far down the beach.

My companion reached over to touch my arm. “You are very brave, Lili.”

I turned, caught his black eyes with mine. “Your captain will surrender to me, I swear it.”

Walks Softly seemed almost sad as he murmured, “I believe he will.”


CHAPTER EIGHT

The next morning Walks Softly came at about the same time. He brought a pair of lovely ladies’ riding boots with him. I wore my stockings and the boots under my native skirt. I took the lead as we cantered leisurely to the beach. First thing, I turned the gelding the way we had gone the day previous.

I wanted to see if the captain swam with his dangerous companions. Even more, I wanted to see him near-naked and fresh from the ocean.

Oh, there he was, big fin close, keeping pace. I shivered all over again, waiting. He stopped for a moment, turning toward a second larger fin just rising from the water. My heart jerked within my chest. The captain watched the enormous fish circle him as he treaded in place. Its fin must have extended over half an arm’s length or more above the lightly tossed surface. Slowly, it moved away and dived. I saw him duck under the water, presumably for a look around, then he surfaced and resumed his swim.

I gathered my courage as he made his way to the safety of land. As he waded from the surf, I found myself thinking of a statue I’d seen in London, called “Neptune Rising”. Golden, gleaming and virile, the captain saw me, and came my direction. If the sea had a god reigning over its depths, he must look just so.

“Once again taking the sights?” he asked.

“I’ve learned where to find the best ones.” I paused. My belly fluttered watching the ocean’s wetness slide down his body. My gaze traced a winding thread of it down his chest, over muscled ribs and ridged abdomen, to where the ever-thinning trickle disappeared into the low-riding waist of those breeches. “You stopped today, I noticed.”

He squinted a bit as he gazed at me, backlit by the sun. “Had a visitor,” he replied. “Rare and very large for such warm waters. A white belly.” He stepped closer, lifted my skirt a bit, then seeing the boots he gifted me with, said, “They suit, I see.”

I’d lain awake half the night, plotting mayhem. He’d no idea what I intended to visit upon him. Glancing around, I assured myself Walks Softly had remained some distance removed for privacy. “As I am so essential a part of this clever scheme of your, I’ve given it a great deal of thought.”

“Truly?” His pale gaze moved over me in a manner which left me feeling quite naked.

A friend of my mother’s had a daughter so fast even the racy set tisked and clucked. I once overheard her mother telling mine that they’d been reduced to having a physician assure them she remained virgin. In the dark of night, I’d decided the idea I might have already lost the virtue he’d sworn to protect, might cause him to lose sleep as well.

“I don’t believe you planned this nearly so well as you do.”

“You pointed this out to me yesterday.”

I breathed deep. “It seems you have let the value of your word rest upon an uncertainty.”

“Educate me.”

Did I dare? “You promised to leave me untouched.” I waited, saw the change, the pride. Oh, he prepared to give me a speech about his control and will. I had him. I leaned down from the gelding‘s high back, gazed into his eyes and smiled slightly. “How do you know I came to you intact?”

The result proved priceless. Pure stunned disbelief.

I treated myself to a long visual exploration of his wet body, then straightened, shortened my reins. “Good day, captain.” I sent the gelding down the beach. As I savored the occasional spray, I smiled and wanted to shout with triumph.

#

That afternoon, I spent several hours in my room, stripped to my underthings. Despite the cooling breezes, the heat grew oppressive. Finally, I rang for Eza, asked her to send for Walks Softly. When he arrived, I met him dressed much as I had that morning save for the stockings and boots. I’d changed to sandals.

Standing in the foyer where I’d first entered, I regarded him for a moment. “Might we walk somewhere? The heat oppresses me?”

“This is our cool season.”

“I have lived in England all my life.”

He said nothing, then relented. “Very well.”

We walked down the shell road toward town, then took a narrow footpath through the verdant jungle. Sunlight filtered through the trees. Birds trilled and chirped, insects hummed. The scents of frangipani, exotic fruit, and fresh green growth filled my nose. As we continued down the sandy-dirt path, I began a conversation.

“Where do you stay on this island?”

He glanced back over his shoulder. “That is were we go.”

“Lovely.” The heat didn’t seem so terrible freed from confines. Perhaps it only seemed so because I’d grown more accustomed to the dirth of society’s strictures. The gritty soil got into my sandals. It didn’t feel bad exactly, just strange. I became content to feel my muscles working, and enjoy the outdoors.

The ground leveled, vegetation thinned. We emerged into a lightly groomed garden at the back of a small, most unusual dwelling. It boasted an uncommon structure, oblong, only one story. I could see no chimney or glass windows. Flaps of what appeared oiled canvas resided neatly rolled above large cutouts covered with mosquito netting. In the middle of the structure’s roof, smoke curled lightly upward. I smelled the most mouthwatering aromas wafting from inside.

Awed, intrigued, I asked, “Is this your home?”

He reached to take my hand in his big warm grasp. “Long ago, my home was on the Savanno River. This where I stay when we are in port.” Through clusters of palms, he led me around to the front. The open beach stretched before the bit of grass hosting a wide roofed porch. We went up the steps through the open door.

The structure consisted mainly of one long room with what appeared a cooking fire situated in the middle. Overhead, I saw a circular opening fitted with oiled canvas. At the moment, it stood propped open. Wood planking floored all save for a wide square around the banked blaze. A spit and several flat rocks of varied proximities flanked the flames. Black pans sat upon them. I smelled fish and something else.

“Sit.” He indicated a scattering of heavy furs with a muslin bed sheet spread atop on the floor to the right. I hurried to do so, spreading out my skirt, mindful I didn‘t cut off my wind with my whalebone cage. My belly growled. He filled a flat wooden plate, brought it to me. I recognized a piece of fish, pink and white shrimp with sear marks here and there, some sort of yellow vegetable I believe might be corn, as I’ve heard about. Walks Softly sank gracefully down nearby with his own plate.

I noticed no utensils provided and discovered myself challenged once again. Eager for the new experience, I picked up the vegetable first. Tentatively I bit into it. The bead-like kernels popped, yielding a surprisingly rich sweet juice, leaving a milky bed. I finished the entire thing before moving on to the fish. It proved more difficult to eat with my fingers. The flesh flaked, still I persevered, attempting to place the hints of tartness among the many flavors. A sigh escaped at the first bite of huge shrimp. A spice as smoky as the fire which cooked it teased my tongue, under that, hints of fruit and pepper.

“Would you care for more?”

I turned to face my host, snatched back to reality from my sensual indulgence. “Yes! And tell me what I dine upon. Ambrosia, surely.” He took my plate, his in the other hand and rose from that curious cross-legged position. “Explain every spice. You prepared this feast, I conclude.”

He laughed that short, unexpected bass rumble. It took me back to my cabin aboard the Blood Vengeance. I must have shocked him again. I smiled, licked my fingers. “Pray, do not be spare with the shrimp!”

We lingered over the meal. I grew enamored of the dwelling. Its simplicity and function yet imparted hospitality. The truest sort, with nothing contrived to impress. I asked him a hundred questions, absorbing everything from his tutelage concerning the use of native fruits, and transplanted foods such as corn, potatoes and strawberries.

“Will you teach me to cook?” I asked, full now, my hands washed in the basin of a huge shell.

“Yes.”

At his answer I smiled. “Will you teach me about ships and sailing, how to navigate by the stars, read maps and charts?”

Walks Softly studied me. “Why do you wish this?”

“You have no idea what it is to be a white woman of society. Think of the prejudice you surely suffer among my kind. Imagine all the while you must remain decorative and obedient.” I paused, bitter all over again. “Now, envision it is among your own people.”

After a moment he said quietly, “You never want for anything.”

“Including my opinions and beliefs, for they are given to me.”

“I will help you to learn whatever you desire.”

#

The next day I requested we ride a different route. Walks Softly indulged me and we rode to view the fields of corn, wheat, and rye. We rode near large vegetable gardens and herb beds. Patiently he answered my legion of queries concerning agriculture and cultivation.

On the following day, I wrapped myself in the concealing cloak and he smuggled me aboard the ship for a quick lesson. As we descended the gangplank, I noticed two smaller ships anchored out in the harbor.

We took the midday meal at his beachfront home. I had my first lesson in preparing fish, and thanks to my teacher’s close observation, it turned out quite well. He then promised that once I mastered such skills in this controlled environment, he’d show me how to build a fire and cook out of doors.

We rode again after lunch. Walks Softly surprised me by suggesting I learn to do so without aid of a saddle. I halted the gelding, dismounted and struggled to unbuckle the girth. When at last I succeeded, my companion and tutor helped me to mount. The sensation of direct contact was totally foreign and exciting. I felt every muscle, each movement, and also I felt very insecure. I rode the gelding in large circles, testing his gaits and my ability to manage them without balancing stirrups.

Walks Softly said, “Leave the saddle, I will send a stable boy for it.”

The ride back to the villa improved my confidence and I did not suffer the same initial sense of imminent disaster. Walks Softly promised further lessons the next day.

I lounged in the bath for quite a while, enjoying the cooler water, then Eza helped me to don undergarments, blouse and skirt. She braided my hair, coiled it at my nape.

Dinner was lobster, baby peas and melon. I ate downstairs, then returned to my room. A three-quarter moon rose in the clear sky, casting silver light into my chamber. Heat of the day had given way to cool night breezes. The exertions of the day weighed upon me. The lavender-scented bed beckoned. I rang for help to change into a white lawn nightrail and crawled between the cool sheets.

My eyes had started to close in slumber when the door opened and I saw the captain’s tall, unmistakable silhouette. Fear and excitement slammed me simultaneously. I knew at once why he’d come. The gauntlet I’d thrown down when last we met had pushed him to this.

He closed the door behind him, the sound of it locking behind him loud as a cannon volley to my ears. He put the chain the key hung upon back over his head, tucking it inside his shirt.

I had made my audacious play without thought to this moment. There was nothing left but brazen it out.

A large dark figure in the shadows near the door, he spoke softly. “No screams? Pleas for mercy?”

I sat up, making no move to cover myself with the bedclothes. “Mercy from what?” From somewhere deep, a fighting élan bubbled to the surface. “Kidnapping? Nay, ’tis done. Ruination? Whatever am I thinking? You’ve done that as well.”

He came toward the bed. He wore high brown boots, dark brown breeches and a shirt that appeared a very light tan. A smooth club held that wavy mane neatly at his nape. The small gold hoop glinted in the moonlight.

“You pushed me to this apurpose,” he accurately surmised. “But to what end?”

I did not reply. My belly began to quiver as he sat upon the bed’s edge. He seemed even larger, the planes of his face harsher, more savage in the lunar light. He reached to pull back the covers. I responded on a primitive level, snatching them hard to me, scooting away. He was in the bed with me in a trice, the covers yanked and tossed away, both my wrists clasped in the manacle of his grip above my head, his leg pinning mine.

I stared into his pale, glittering eyes as he gripped my nightrail and dragged it up above the short pantilettes I wore beneath. Over the past weeks I’d grown familiar with the feel, the foreignness of the masculine form. But this male body did not belong to my trusted companion. The hardness and heat alarmed me. His scent, aggressive virile man and ambergris, seemed to seep into my skin. My breath came in ragged pants as his hand touched my bare belly, then pushed under my solitary undergarment.

He touched me between my legs and I exploded into an all out rebellion. He held me fast, his respiration coming through clenched teeth. Two fingers nudged me in the most shocking manner, parting petal-like portions of my anatomy I’d no previous knowledge of. I bucked as much as possible, tried to prevent further contact. He shifted to insure his weight held me fast. It brought the smooth, corded column of his throat close.

I lunged up, bit him on that exposed flesh as his fingers pushed into my body. He jerked, growled. The most shocking release of wetness came flooding from somewhere in me. I felt it drenching his invading fingers. Previously unknown muscles clenched within me. Against my hip, I felt the ominously large evidence of his arousal.

For what seemed an eternity we stayed thus. Then his fingers withdrew and I released my hold. I lay heavily upon the bed, heart pounding like hooves upon cobble. The strangest lassitude spread over my body, even as restlessness grew low in my pelvis.

We stared at each other. He slowly raised his hand, and to my pure astonishment, put his slickened fingers into his mouth. I watched him as he tasted me. My breasts swelled, becoming overly sensitive.

His eyes closed briefly, then he bounded from the bed. Before I could recover my wits enough to reach for the covers, the door slammed behind him and the lock set with a click.

I sat up unsteadily, a stranger in the body I’d inhabited my entire life.

I had provoked his lust. But who had won this battle, I could not determine.