FicWad

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Gamboa rested comfortably and gave Walks Softly much hope by the following morning. My brother did not. My friend said nothing. However, I knew him well enough to find a wealth of words in his expression and silence. When Christopher dozed under a heavy dose of willow bark tea, I caught Walks Softly’s hand and led him out into the hall.

My friend shook his head. Keeping his voice low he answered my unspoken question. “I know not, Lili. His wounds are grievous and he has lost a great deal of blood. If we avoid an infection, then his chances become better.”

Fear brought the sting of tears. Walks Softly wrapped me in his strong, capable arms. His scent surrounded me, familiar and safe. “Thank you,” I murmured into his chest, “for taking such good care of him, and for not lying to me.” We stood there for several minutes. I absorbed the comfort his touch granted, let him stroke my hair.

“I shall do all in my power.” He spoke quietly, voice filled with determination.

“I trust you with my life,” I replied, “and now I entrust you with my brother’s.”

After a moment, he released me to take my hands in his. “I would spare you this pain. Yet, I give thanks our paths crossed.”

I gazed down at his dark hands, thinking of their gentleness with me early in this adventure my life had become. The night we sailed into harbor here, he had offered me their reassurance, promising to walk with me when I feared. He had brushed and braided my hair many times, taught me to cook and fight, gathered ingredients and made a tonic to protect me against conceiving. He had even offered his hands to come after and fight for me if I’d been sent back to society. Overcome with emotion, I lifted one then the other and kissed them. Staring into his black eyes, I said, “When you pray to your God, thank him for me, too.”

#

Midday, Walks Softly needed to ride down to the tavern where the second infirmary awaited his rounds. I knew James and Etienne labored with carpenters at the harbor, repairing damages to vessels. I bid my friend to give me a few moments while I organized food, water and two wagons to transport everything. To the conveyances, we added Walks Softly’s clean bandages and medicines.

One of those lovely little boys brought the gelding tacked and ready. His bandage had been switched for something smaller. I smiled at him. He returned it with a shadowy version of his former grins. Walks Softly mounted behind me. As we rode down the shell road, he said, “Their father and mother died in the shelling. A cannon ball struck their home.”

My heart ached anew at the loss this island had suffered. Pride bloomed in me as well. Grief, defiance, bravery, and community spirit these people possessed in abundance. Surrender did not exist in their world. Even to the young.

“Who shall care for them?”

“For now, the other women take turns. Later, something will be decided.”

At the docks, I spotted James at once. Bare-chested, wearing those abbreviated breeches he swarmed up the rigging of the Vengeance. Seeing his bare, brown feet made me smile. For once, I wore the appropriate footwear while he went without. I scanned the other ships, and saw Etienne on the deck of the badly damaged Cleopatra. Walks Softly whistled shrilly and the Frenchman’s head turned immediately. He raised his hand and went to lower himself into one of the wooden boats.

Walks Softly left for the tavern and I began the process of filling plates with thick fish chowder over rice and hunks of dark bread. Men rushed to accept their meal, thanking me with such sincerity I felt humbled. James and Etienne arrived almost at the same moment. By then I had recruited a young man to fill tankards with water and hand each man his drink along with a wedge of cheese.

Etienne hugged me with one arm as he took his plate, “An angel of mercy as well as a Valkrye of battle.”

James kissed me briefly, saying, “My thanks for this consideration, Lili.”

I sent him to take his rest and begin his meal as I finished doling out victuals. Some time later, I served myself and went to sit with him in the shadow of the Vengeance’s sails. The roughness of the dock under my bare calves made me think what it must have be like to fight aboard a rolling deck at sea.

His words pulled me from my musings. “The casualty list grows.”

I scooped a spoonful of stew and rice. “How so?”

“Gamboa’s hold housed two horses with Arabian blood and a yellow panther cub from the Colonies. One of the horses died of its injuries in the night. The second remains in a sort of shock.”

“What of the cub?” I had seen the golden panthers from the America’s in the Royal menagerie at court. Their savage beauty had fascinated me utterly.

“It bears a missing patch of fur and a cut pad on its paw.” He seemed to realize I had not filled a tankard for myself, and scooted his closer to me. “The greatest injury lies in its mind. Mr. Levit did not know what to do with the piteous thing save lock it in an empty store building.”

I thought of my days locked in that tiny cabin aboard James’ ship. My heart twisted. “I will care for it.”

He seemed to search my eyes. “That is a big responsibility. It’s a wild animal. Not some tabby from a stable.”

“The very reason it should not reside in a cell.”

James’ mouth lifted a little at one corner. “Empathy for a fellow inmate.”

I waited for his permission because it meant having the creature in his house. “What say you?”

“I say, finish your meal and we’ll go have a look.”

He changed into long breeches and boots as I ate, then we rode tandem to the other end of town. My heart beat an erratic tattoo as we halted, dismounted and walked up to the tiny wood building. From inside came a hiss.

James hesitated with his hand on the latch. “Are you certain?”

“Very.” He lifted the latch and opened the door slowly. As the light came in, it revealed a severely emaciated half-grown cub. A bit stunned, I remarked, “This is no youngling.” Even from here I could smell feral urine and burnt fur. “Could we have a wagon come with a cage of some sort, and move him?”

“How do you know its gender,” he asked.

I smiled a little. “A female wouldn’t have given a warning or waited in plain sight.”

#

Hours later as I helped with wounded at the villa, I came across John Tanner on a pallet. The scene of the public lashing flashed before my eyes and I paused to look beneath the sheet draping his lower body. I closed my eyes for a moment. He lacked his left foot and hand, and a bandage low on his belly showed the seeping of dark, foul-smelling liquid. So young to have faced battle.

A servant stopped beside me, “Miss Lili, a man has brought a wagon with something in it for you.”

“Thank you.” I glanced over to Christopher’s place among the wounded and saw Eza kneeling by his side. Her yellow skirt mushroomed about her reminding me of the hibiscus blooms that abounded in the jungle. Although she did not touch him, she had situated herself within a hand’s span. It pleased me to think of him opening his eyes and seeing the lovely, sepia-skinned girl he’d fancied watching over his slumber.

I washed my arms up past the elbow to remove as much of the odors of the infirmary from me as possible, then went out front. A man I recognized, though knew not a name to go with the face, stood beside the wagon. A tarp over something large and square sat in the back.

Offering my arm to clasp as I had seen men here do, I met his nervous, flitting gaze. “Thank you, sir.”

He accepted the gesture, though without lingering a heartbeat beyond it. “It’s welcome you be, milady.”

“Lili,” I corrected, smiling. “At the present, I have but one solution for placing this lost soul. Mayhaps you could drive the wagon around the villa to the side door of the dining room? Then we might carry the cage through to the French doors leading to the walled courtyard.”

“All due respect, milady. ‘Druther not be puttin’ me hands near that devil.”

I considered that, weighed options. Logic dictated the courtyard would seem less frightening for the cat. My instincts told me the terrified animal would cower rather than attack. I did not fear for the man. So, I turned on my best charm. “Oh, neither would I. I rested myself in your capable hands.”

He puffed up a little. “Mebbe we could give itta try.”

I walked around to wait. With my willingness to aid him, the man assisted in carrying the covered cage through and out the other doors. Our cargo kept silent and still. Outside, I thanked the man and excused him from further service.

Left alone with the cat, I debated courses of action. A pathetic little cry came from under the tarp and I removed it.

He lie curled in an awkward, though upright knot, panting open-mouthed. I knelt, making myself small as possible. For some time I did nothing more than crouch, eyes averted. I wanted him to learn my smell and feel free to study me without eye contact. He emitted an odd growling whine. I schooled myself to patience.

I know not how long I remained thus until he cried pathetically. It sounded like a baby.

I slipped into the house, asked a servant to fetch goat’s milk, raw fish and cooked rice. She returned with the unappetizing montage in a wide, shallow bowl. I mixed it, squashing my squeamishness as I stirred with my finger. Just a peek at the cat gave away his receptiveness. His orange nose twitched as he sniffed what the breeze carried.

I left the dish outside the cage, lifted the door of the contraption and latched it in place. In all haste, I retreated into the villa.

The cat would satisfy its hunger with my scent all around. Surely that would help change its view of me.



I charged upstairs long enough to wash my hands and face, then use a little rose oil on them. Afterward, I descended. Eza intercepted me at the base of the stairs.

She handed me a basket covered with a tan cloth. “For you and him.“ Her dark face flushed with flattering pink.

“My thanks, Eza. For this and sitting with Christopher.“ I carried it over my arm out the door, and called up my trusty gelding tacked and brought from the stable. The steed whickered in welcome when he saw me and I smiled. Another male in my appreciative pocket.

At the docks, I dismounted and led the gelding with me as I approached the edge. “James!”

He looked from a man he conferred with to me, held up his hand as I had seen Etienne do earlier. Did they pull males aside at some appropriate juncture and teach them these things?

A few moments later, he stood at my knee. I took my foot from the mounting stirrup and invited, “Ride with me.”

He shouted his intentions back to the man on deck, then swung astride behind me. I guided the steed toward the falls. James soon knew it. Mouth at my ear, he said, “I believe you’ve abducted me.” He slid the basket from my arm, freeing my hands.

I shivered, savoring his warm breath soughing over my skin. “Indeed.”

At the falls, we pillaged the basket’s contents. Eza had packed sliced melon, lemon curd pastries, chunks of cheese, two small loaves of bread stuffed with seasoned pork and a jug of wine. As we ate, I found his gaze snagging upon my own, lingering upon my mouth. I licked my fingers, wickedly observing his attention. All too well I recognized that simmering sensual heat.

Finally, I rose from our shady place of repose, stripped and walked to the pool. I waded in, savoring the silky lapping of the water. Behind me, I heard James divesting himself of clothing. He arrived so quickly I gasped, then sighed. His hands caressed my face and throat, gentle and tantalizing. Lightening flashed from my neck to my belly at his knowing touch. I let my head fall back against his chest.

He turned suddenly, bearing me out into deeper water.

The whistling sound I heard made James haul me in yet a different direction. “Arrow,” he hissed. “Assassin.”



CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

James dragged me toward the edge of the water. We crouched in the shallows. He stared up at the apex of the falls.

“Who could that be?” I whispered. My heart beat at the cage of my ribs.

He turned, put a finger to my lips to silence me and returned his keen gaze to the summit. After a few seconds, I saw a brief flash of metal caught by the sun. Somewhere beyond the peak, someone moved.

James put his lips close to my ear. “I must get to my weapons.”

I copied his manner of quiet delivery. “You cannot leave the protection of the rocks.”

He leaned his cheek against mine, the pose curiously intimate. “They’ve only to move the other direction to gain a clear shot. We are safe for a few moments. No more.”

“Is there no other way?” My mind stumbled in its efforts to seek some way, any way to spare him in the open.

“I have you to help me.” He put his hand to my other cheek. “Courage, Lili.”

In the fighting at the harbor and beach I had only my life to lose. With James’ life in my hands, I trembled. In spite of that, a fierce protectiveness filled me. “What must I do?”

“I am going to toss the pistols to you. Fire one at once in signal. Let neither touch the water, nor be splashed. Then, be still.”

I nodded in understanding.

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

He kissed my neck just below the ear and then I watched him stand in the shallows. Although I witnessed his physical abilities before, his speed amazed me anew. A second whizzing whine cut the air. James went low behind two flowering trees, emerged on the other side. He snatched up his pistols and I saw one coming toward me. His aim proved true and I had but to put out my hand and catch it. I fired it into the air, shocked by the roar and the way it jumped in my hand. The second came with the same precision. I snatched it from its descent.

In the scant time my attention trained upon my task, I missed James grabbing his breeches and weapons belted into them. Yet, he had closed the distance with them in hand. A third distinctive whine sliced the air. James faltered, recovered. He crouched behind a big boulder near me. I studied his face, seeking a clue to his thoughts. With some unease, I followed his gaze down to his left thigh. A short arrow, a crossbow bolt I realized, protruded from the heavy muscle.

Alarm lanced me. I swallowed the outcry, walked on my knees closer to him. My lover slipped into his breeches with some effort, having to break off the bolt to do so. I watched his face, heart tearing at the flash of pain there. Blood welled and ran freely. Shaking, I handed off the pistols.

He sniffed them, returned the one I had not used to signal, then shoved the other into his belt. “I have to force the assassin to come to me. Otherwise, he may sit comfortably and take his openings until I bristle with his bolts.”

Fury lit me from within. I felt incandescent with it. The searing sharpened my senses. At the same moment James flattened himself against the big rock, I heard a faint stirring of jungle floor debris. I tensed and seemed to feel my lover coiling to strike.

An oddly accented masculine voice said, “I saw you react to my strike, Hunter. The question remains as to where I hit you.”

I looked at James. He inclined his head to the left. For the space of a heartbeat, I could not decipher the indicative movements he made with his hand. Understanding dawned. I kept the loaded pistol high, splashed the water’s surface with my other hand. I almost strangled as a dark, bearded man appeared leaning over the boulder I sheltered behind. As magically as the assassin arrived, James’ sword was buried in the man’s chest. A wicked little crossbow fell from the dead man’s grasp. I caught it, stared at the lethal weapon.

“Give that to me, Lili.”

I did with eagerness, for I hated to touch the thing that wounded him. James examined it, then the corpse. “He has no more bolts.”

I began to breathe normally. “Good.” Shooter dead or no, I rejoiced.

“No, Lili.” James’ tone raised the hair upon my nape. “Which means he must have lost them somehow.”

“We can give thanks for that.”

“Quite the opposite.” His black tenor caused a shiver through my belly. “It tells me he felt comfortable coming into the open with exhausted resources.”

My lessons with Etienne helped me process that statement. “There are more assassins.”

“Aye.”

James sprang from his hiding place as a small odd man leaped into view. The attacker’s yellow skin and slanted eyes echoed his exotic fighting style. James fought hand-to-hand with his much smaller, though menacing opponent. Blows fell and returned in a blur. I saw a blade flash. A streak of red appeared on my lover’s arm. He executed a series of kicks that sent the other man reeling.

Even as he battled, a second, almost identical man seemed to materialize at James’ back.

I heard a sickening snap as I stood and walked from the pool. “You forgot me,” I said.

The second assassin turned. His eyes traveled down my wet, naked body. I held up the heavy pistol, pointing it at his face and squeezed the trigger. Roar, buck, and the enemy’s head rather exploded.

James stood upright as the first attacker slithered to the ground. Smoke rolled from the pistol I held. James looked from me to the felled man. Slowly, he stepped over bodies to relieve me of the weapon. He held me to him with one arm and I clung.

“You have grit,” he whispered. “And I owe you my life.”

I stood there shaking. After a few moments, James fetched his shirt to clothe me. Not long after, many men began to arrive in answer to the first signal shot. I continued to tremble, yet all the while, I thought of how close I had come to losing my love.



CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

With Walks Softly’s permission, I had Gamboa and Christopher moved upstairs. The sitting room converted easily to a small infirmary. With the two of them in there, and James in our bed, I could tend to them more readily. Eza came with my brother. Her gentle touch proved an asset to Walks Softly, for he recruited her to help stitch Christopher’s slowly changing wounds. The angry swelling had reduced and he no longer burned from within.

A brief scare about potential poisoning in James’ wound caused much fear with his indian brother and I. I learned assassins often used lethal substances on their arrow or bolt tips to insure a kill. When no symptoms manifested, we breathed a little sigh of relief.

Satisfied James rested comfortably and under Walks Softly’s attentive gaze, I took Etienne and we formed six units of thee to comb the island for assassins. We found one, mortally belly shot by a stray musket ball, hiding in a ruined house near the harbor. From him we learned the late Captain Mallory had employed a group of five hired killers to insure his enemy perished. They’d been put to sea in a small craft, which they swam to shore to help avoid notice. Halfway to the beach, some huge fish had killed one and thrashed the little boat to splinters in the process. I surmised that if the bolts had born poison before, this might have washed it away and spared James’ life.

The strange quirk of Fate made me smile. He swam with the deadly creatures and remained unharmed. Now, one of them might have even saved him.

Etienne questioned the man extensively to make certain he spoke truth. Then, ended the assassin’s suffering.

#

My days rapidly became established in routine. I divided my time between the recovery ward upstairs, overseeing the feeding of the many men working to undo the battle damage to structures and vessels, and caring for the big cat. The diet of raw fish, goat milk and rice had his body fleshing out at an amazing speed, and on the fifth day, he allowed me to see to his hurts.

The servants had fits over the animal’s proximity to them. However, dear timid Eza expressed an interest and went out into the courtyard with me to see him. Gato, as I came to call him at Gamboa‘s suggestion, often slept in the shade of the roofed portion of the verandah. He sprawled contentedly there, looking tame as a kitten. Eza stayed near the French doors as not to alarm him. Afterward she agreed upon his beauty, though could not share my lack of fear.

After Eza went indoors, I spent a few moments sitting in the shade. The sounds of women moving among the wounded men inside blended with the drone of insects, and occasional trill of an island bird. A masculine chuckle made me smile. Many of the recovering had sufficiently done so to become appreciative of the females tending them. More than one sharp smack had preceded male mirth.

Gato stood, stretched luxuriously and regarded me with a curious stare. I met his gaze, remained still. To my delighted surprise, the animal walked toward me. He halted within arm’s reach, then took a few more steps. This was the first time he had approached me. Until now, I gave him his food and departed, not wishing him to feel he must suffer my presence in order to eat. I forced myself to wait. Time crawled, ceased perhaps. He closed the distance and I held out my hand. Gato sniffed it, caught it gently in his jaws. I did nothing. Evidently I passed some mysterious test, for he released my hand and nudged his broad head under it.

I rubbed his ears and between his eyes until they drifted closed and the unmistakable rumbling purr of feline happiness rewarded me. Males of any species did not vary so much.

#

I organized some tables and chairs placed upon the lawn, and for the evening meal’s serving to occur there. Though injured, normally healthy active men would chafe under their constraints. I thought it best to offer them some liberty to avoid infirmary mischief going beyond flirtatious comments or the occasional pinched bottom.

Etienne arrived from the harbor as I crossed to the stairs. I halted to wait for him. At a glance I could see the fatigue. I sent a servant for chilled ale.

“How go the repairs?” I reached out to rub a little dark smudge from the bridge of his fine nose.

“I am not fit for you to touch,” he said.

“Nonsense. Is there anything I can do to make your labor easier?”

“The meals and water sent down are most welcome.”

The girl returned with the tankard of ale and he accepted with gratitude. I saw her eyes linger upon him, a hungry gleam in them. I sensed he noticed, though chose to then ignore. We walked upstairs together. Before we reached the suite, I whispered, “You should make Walks Softly go home tonight. He’s barely slept.”

Etienne chuckled. “Don’t let his quiet gentleness fool you. Once he has made up his mind, there is no changing it.”

I smiled. “I trust in your ability to use your charms.”

“Lady Rothington,” he fairly gasped, affecting an outraged feminine tone, “Surely you cannot mean to suggest I bribe him with my body?”

“Yes. Quite.” We entered together. James sat at the bed’s edge, struggling with his boots. “What the bloody hell do you mean to do? Lie back in that bed at once!”

“I’ve had all of it I can bear,” he replied, “unless you mean to join me.”

Etienne walked through into the sitting room. I grabbed a heavy boot from James’ grasp. “I mean it. You have no business reopening that hole in your hide.”

“I would have escaped this room yesterday did that savage not threaten to dose me into oblivion.”

His exasperated tone made me smile. “Please,” I cajoled, “please lay back and let me pull off that boot.”

His arm caught me and tumbled me into bed with him. Gazing down at me, he murmured. “Let’s lock the doors. I have gone without you too long.”

I pushed him off me, struggling sit up and then drag the boot off his uninjured leg. “We would split your stitches for certain.”

“Not if you ride me,” he countered boldly, a husky tone I knew too well coloring the words. It went straight to my pelvis and thighs.

“James, everyone passes through here from the sitting room. We cannot lock that door.”

“Then come with me.” He pulled me along with him despite my protests. He only responded, “The less you struggle, the less likely I’ll undo the healer’s good work.”

Down the hall, a bedroom door stood open. He tugged me inside, locked the portal and had his mouth upon mine before I could protest further. Denial cindered in the swift flare of salacious heat. He backed me toward the bed, stripping me as we went. A trail of garments and boots led from the door to where we stopped at the bed’s edge. I gazed up at him as he released me to pull off his shirt. Compelled to touch him, I traced the sharp edges of the muscles across his chest, the faint outline of ribs, and the ridged brawn of his belly.

“Down, “ I commanded.

He stretched out obediently. I began to shake with a fierce brand of loving lust as I stripped off his breeches. His erection bucked, even under the mere touch of my gaze. When I leaned down and slid my open mouth up along the length, James’ breath departed in a ragged rush and his hands cradled my head. Already wetness flowed from me to dampen my thighs. I ached to have him inside me.

“Lili, please. It has been too long.” He pulled me up his body. I straddled his hips, rocked forward to bring his throbbing tip to the threshold of my body, then pressed myself down. The girth of him spread me open, plundered flesh that contracted and quivered beyond my control. His hands gripped my hips as his lifted and lowered, restless and determined. He reached between us, knowing fingers circling and pressing me where so many nerves converged.

I bounced myself upon him without shame or restraint. Undone by pleasure, I climaxed and fell forward upon his chest. I became aware of his hoarse cry of attainment and the rush of male climax within me.

James lifted my face, kissed me with a lingering thoroughness that brought tears to my eyes. When a droplet leaked down my cheek, he surely felt it. He drew back. I gazed at him. His pale, tropical-hued eyes searched mine. “Lili, what is it?”

I shook my head. “Too much happening in too little time,” I answered, lying. His tenderness had shattered me more surely than the release.

“Sleep with me tonight,” he tempted. “The chair cannot provide as much comfort as my bed.”

“Yes.” Tonight. Forever. I adored him and we had survived to make love again.


#

Christopher woke later that night and Eza knocked on the bedroom door before opening. I had heard his voice, and already wrapped a robe around my short nightrail. Inside the sitting room, I knelt at my brother’s side. Fatigue and pain aged him. For a moment, by candlelight, he looked so like my father it took me aback.

“Lili,” he whispered thinly, “Thank God you’re well.”

I picked up his hand, held it in both of mine. “If you intend to pray, do so for yourself.”

“We had no choice, “ he began.

I stopped the apology. “Of course. You were welcome.”

He blinked and his brow wrinkled in thought. “I could have sworn I saw an angel hovering over me. She had the loveliest dark eyes and skin.”

I smiled. “I believe you are healing.”

Eza knelt at his other side. His head turned and a look of naked longing flashed in his face. I placed his hand upon the pallet and started to rise. Something made me wrap my robe tighter as I did. Standing, I saw Gamboa’s brown eyes fixed upon me. For the second time, I felt I saw something not meant for my eyes. An almost identical expression of exposed longing manifested upon his visage.

I hurried from the sitting room and closed the door behind.

James lifted the covers as I returned to bed. “All well?”

“My brother has passed the crucial stage, I believe.” I rested my head upon his arm as I turned onto my side.

He scooted closer, bringing his front to my back. A low purr came from deep in his chest and he pushed my braid aside to nibble my nape. “I could have you like this.” Against my bottom, the evidence of his statement swelled.

“We shouldn’t.” Even to my ears, the remonstration echoed with emptiness.

“We shall be covered. Even if someone walks in, they would not know.”

In moments I found myself witless with pleasure and passion, impaled, in love and his for the taking.