My Savage Lord (Hidden Identity)

by Colleen French

  "Picaroon? Picaro?"

  "I am not a pirate. I am a privateer, ofttimes called a buccaneer."

  She smoothed a lock of damp hair that had escaped her loose coiffure. "So the crewmen of the sunken merchant ship will be forced to join one of your privateering crews."

  "Oh, it's not as bad as all that, my dear. I pay my men well for their loyalty." He glanced at the other two women. "Which is your sister, might I ask?"

  Beatrice surprised Jillian by taking a half step forward from where she stood near the bunk. "I am, sir." She dipped a slight curtsy. "Beatrice Hollingsworth, your servant."

  He lifted his hat, presenting his leg. "Mademoiselle, charming . . . charming." He returned his hat to his head. "And the other lady?" he addressed Jillian.

  "A fellow passenger, Mrs. Amstead, bound to meet her husband in the Virginia Colony."

  Indigo nodded in Mrs. Amstead's direction. "Well, my darling . . ." He returned his attention to Jillian. "I thought you'd enjoy a breath of fresh air. I'd like to escort you above deck. I want all of Jamaica to see you as we arrive in port."

  The thought of going topside into the sunshine, perhaps even seeing Duncan, excited her. "Oh, yes, I'd like that, sir. Just let my sister and me get our hats." She started across the cabin to retrieve the straw hat that had survived the Kelsey Marie's demise.

  "No, no, you don't understand. You'll be going topside, my love. The other ladies will remain here in my cabin."

  Jillian turned, her hat already on her head. She wanted desperately to see if Duncan were all right, but she'd not be separated from her sister. It would be too easy for the pirate to have her carried off that way. "Oh, sir, I'm sorry, then." She removed the hat. "I fear I'll not be able to accompany you without my sister and Mrs. Amstead."

  "I'll not go," Mrs. Amstead burst. "I'll go nowhere with a murdering pirate!"

  Indigo studied Jillian's face. She didn't blink. After a moment of indecision, he sighed. "How could I possibly resist a beautiful face and willfulness? Very well, my darling." He swept his hand. "They may accompany us as well."

  Beatrice scrambled to find her hat. "Hurry, Mrs. Amstead," she whispered into the older woman's ear. "We're going topside."

  The women stepped back. "I'm not going."

  Jillian was just slipping her bare feet into her shoes. "Mrs. Amstead," she snapped, "it's come along or perhaps be carried off by one of them!" She indicated upward with her chin in the direction of the pounding feet.

  Mrs. Amstead's eyes grew round with fright. "Heavens! I'll need my parasol. I freckle so easily."

  Jillian snatched the woman's parasol from the top of a sea trunk where they'd been drying out their belongings. "Hurry, ladies," she whispered, then walked to the door where Indigo waited patiently.

  He nodded, offering his arm. "Madame?"

  Jillian considered, then accepted it. She'd do what she had to, within reason, to save herself, her sister, and her husband. She'd come too far to turn back now. "Sir . . ."

  Topside, Indigo led Jillian and the other two women to the stern of the boat where they could watch as the ship sailed into the harbor. From where they stood, Jillian couldn't see the prisoners or Duncan.

  Her first impression of Jamaica was how crystal-clear blue the water was. It was like perfectly blown glass. From the poop deck she could see below the surface of the water. She spotted brilliantly colored fish and even painted coral, things she had only read about, or heard about from Duncan. What immediately struck her was the heady scent of tropical vegetation. Even from offshore, the hot wind carried the smell of the lush, green foliage and bright flowers, filling her nostrils with the intoxicating scent of the tropics.

  The sails filled with the warm winds of the northeast trades, the Royal Fortune sailed into the harbor and set anchor in the clear, glassy water of the town of Port Royal. At Indigo's orders, the three women immediately disembarked into a small rowboat and were taken to shore. Jillian didn't want to leave the pirate ship without seeing Duncan, but Beatrice gripped her arm and whispered into her ear. "Play the game, sister, like you said. It's what he would want you to do."

  So Jillian rode to shore with Beatrice and Mrs. Amstead. Duncan could not escape surrounded by water and pirates, she reasoned. He would wait until they reached solid ground; it only made sense.

  On the docks, three pirates and Indigo escorted the women to an awaiting carriage. The dock was alive with the activity of a busy afternoon at a country market. Dark-skinned men and women dressed in colorful robes with baskets of fruit and vegetables balanced on their heads were everywhere. The air was abuzz with soft, liquid voices and foreign words.

  "Aha, my carriage." Indigo stepped ahead of Jillian and opened the door to the French-made vehicle with a fringed, linen top. Four white horses danced in their traces. "I'll have you escorted to my plantation, where you can get settled in. I'll be along, shortly, my love."

  She gritted her teeth. "Please, do not say that," she said under her breath.

  "What? My endearment was not meant as an affront to you. It's only that I'm so taken with you that I'm quite beside myself." He lifted a hand, indicating the carriage. "Please board."

  Jillian stepped into the carriage. What else was she going to do, surrounded by Indigo and his three armed pirates? If she managed to escape on her own with Bea in tow, where would she go on this island of foreigners?

  Next, Indigo offered Beatrice his hand. When she took it to be aided into the open carriage, he leaned over and kissed the back of her hand. "Another time, another place, mademoiselle," he said softly, "and I would make you mine, my hibiscus flower."

  Beatrice blushed like a simpleton, and Jillian rolled her eyes. "Bea! Get into the carriage!" she snapped.

  Almost reluctantly, her sister let go of the pirate captain's hand and sat down on the bench across from Jillian. Mrs. Amstead put up her hand to be helped into the carriage, but the captain made no attempt to offer his assistance.

  "Oh, heavens—Mrs. Amstead, is it?"

  She looked at him from beneath her parasol, still dressed in her woolens, stockings and all. Her face was so bright red and she was breathing with such labor that Jillian feared she would succumb to heat stroke. "Yes," she answered. "It is."

  "I fear there's been a bit of a misunderstanding." He tipped his hat, smiling that charming smile of his. "You see, you'll be going along with Chuma here, my second in command.

  Jillian didn't know where the black-haired man with skin the color of chocolate and watery brown eyes came from, he just appeared.

  "Chuma will see that your belongings go with you."

  "No! No," Jillian said firmly, sticking her head out the carriage. "She goes with us, too, Indigo." It was the first time she had addressed him by name.

  Indigo glanced at Jillian. "I'm sorry, love; but again, it's merely a matter of business. Now, if you insist Mrs. Amstead must stay, I fear your sister will have to go."

  Jillian's gaze met Indigo's. Despite his pleasant tone and polite words, she knew he meant it. She looked at Mrs. Amstead. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

  "So, there you have it." Again, Indigo was smiling. "Now, as I was saying—" He turned back to the dark-skinned man, a man Jillian took an immediate disliking to. "—Chuma, you're to take Mrs. Amstead out to Pierre Luz's place. He's paid handsomely for a new wife."

  "A wife!" Mrs. Amstead shrieked. "But I'm already married."

  The pirate captain never as much as blinked. He went on with his instructions. "I've already received payment, so all you need to do is deliver."

  Chuma looked suspiciously at Mrs. Amstead. "She's old, cap'ain. Old and gristly." The man had a slight French accent to his liquid-smooth voice.

  Indigo shrugged, answering matter-of-factly. "He'll take her or lose his twenty pounds. God's bowels, Chuma. The man is seventy-eight. How much do you think he intends to use her?"

  Chuma frowned, staring at Mrs. Amstead, who was beginning to hyperventilate. "And if he won't take her?"

&nb
sp; "Then Mr. Buckler will. He's paid for a wife as well." Indigo brushed Chuma away with his hand. "Go, go, and then see to the merchandise we brought in on the Royal Fortune. I'll see you at Lily's Fortune tonight."

  Chuma grasped Mrs. Amstead's thin arm and dragged her down the dock.

  It tore at Jillian's heart to see her go; she had to turn away and cover her ears to block out the poor woman's screams. But Jillian was no fool. She knew when to push the pirate captain and when not to. And she had come too close to losing Beatrice not to be more careful in the future.

  With Mrs. Amstead gone, Indigo closed the coach door. "So, there we have it," he declared, dismissing the entire incident. "Now, you'll be escorted to my sugarcane plantation, that's Lily's Fortune, named after my dearly departed mother. You'll be cared for there. I do hope I won't be late for supper, darling, but I can make no promises."

  Jillian gripped the edge of the open window. "You . . . you're sending us away?"

  He patted her hand affectionately. "Don't worry, love; we won't be separated for long." He glanced behind him. "Ah, here come the prisoners now. I must see to them."

  The pirate captain swaggered away, and Jillian scanned the bustling crowd in search of Duncan's face. The driver of the carriage was attempting to turn the vehicle around, but the dock was so congested that he was having a difficult time of it.

  Through the sea of faces, Jillian spotted a line of white men in chains marching down the center of the dock toward them. She held her breath in search of that familiar face. When she saw Duncan—wild-bearded and dirty, but otherwise healthy—she had to cover her mouth with her hand to keep from crying out in relief. Thank you, God, she repeated over and over in her head. Thank you for saving him.

  Jillian's gaze was fixed on Duncan as the line of prisoners walked straight toward the carriage. He was going to walk right by her! Perhaps even close enough to speak! He would tell her what to do. Surely he had a plan.

  The first prisoner marched by Jillian's window and she turned in the carriage, thinking perhaps she might even touch Duncan. The second man passed. Duncan was next . . .

  But when he walked by the carriage, he never turned his head. He could not possibly have not seen her, and yet he never acknowledged her presence.

  "Duncan . . ." she whispered.

  She knew he must have heard her. But his wild green eyes stared straight ahead, and he passed her without a glance.

  Jillian dropped back onto the seat, tears filling her eyes. Her heart was pounding. Her hand went to her abdomen where she knew her baby grew.

  What was Duncan doing? Didn't he care about what was happening to her? Wasn't he going to save her from the pirate captain?

  Then a thought crept into her head. Duncan had intended to leave her behind in England. He hadn't wanted to bring her to Maryland. He had never wanted her at his side to begin with. So, what was he doing now?

  Just saving himself?

  Twenty-one

  Jillian stood on the verandah on the upper floor, staring out over the tangled jungle that surrounded the manor house of Indigo's sugarcane plantation. She paced back and forth restlessly, the folds of the pale-green organza gown she'd been given fluttering in the hot breeze.

  Suddenly nothing seemed real to her. The decaying smell of the jungle was overwhelming, as was its closeness. Though the large, leafy plants that surrounded the house were obviously trimmed back often, it seemed to Jillian that she could actually see the jungle closing in on the outer walls, and on her.

  There were huge insects everywhere, flying, crawling. Flat, black beetles the size of her finger crept up the sides of the stucco walls of the great, white house. Small green lizards ran along the tiled floor beneath Jillian's feet, and snakes slithered in the grass on the lawn below. Now, as darkness fell, the air was filled with a cacophony of insect song so loud that it disturbed her thoughts. From somewhere in the distance came the steady, mournful beat of a hollow drum.

  "I think it's beautiful here," Jillian heard her sister remark. "Paradise."

  Beatrice was dressed in a gown almost identical to Jillian's, her blonde hair swept up gracefully on her head. She was seated on a bamboo chair, sipping an icy tropical fruit drink.

  "Beautiful? Are you addlepated?" Jillian paced past her sister, dabbing the perspiration from her throat with a large white handkerchief. "Aren't you hot? I can't breathe here. I can't think."

  "No, I'm not hot. I find the warmth invigorating, in fact." She sighed. "Duncan will come for you, Jilly. He'll come for you because he loves you."

  She shook her head. "You don't understand. You didn't see his face when he passed the carriage. You know he didn't want me to go to the Colonies in the first place. He wanted to leave me behind, to rid himself of me—of the child, too, I suspect."

  Beatrice rose and went to her sister, wrapping her arms around her shoulders and hugging her tightly. Jillian returned the embrace, fighting tears.

  "It's going to be all right," Beatrice soothed. "You just have to wait until Duncan finds a way to escape. He'll come for you then, but you have to remain calm, as you've told me to a hundred times before." She smoothed Jillian's damp hair. "No harm will come to you here. You just have to wait."

  "No harm?" Jillian sniffed, lifting her head from Beatrice's shoulder. "Did you hear that crazy pirate? He wants to marry me!"

  Beatrice lowered her hands to her hips. The white gown had transformed her from a dull sparrow to a dove. "He's taken with you."

  Jillian walked away with a groan. "Well, if you think he's so wonderful, have him for yourself! The man is a pirate, Bea. He steals and murders for profit."

  "He said he was a privateer."

  "Is there a difference in these waters?" Jillian walked to the edge of the balcony to lean on the white iron rail.

  Below, a pirate, one of many who guarded the perimeter of the manor house, was sitting on a fallen log, skinning a snake some six feet long. He tipped his hat when he spotted her, then went back to his snake.

  "Oh, Bea . . ." Jillian whispered, staring out at the strange jungle that surrounded them. "Why didn't my husband look at me when he went by the carriage today? Just a glance and I could have waited a lifetime for him." She twisted her hands, unable to stop going over and over in her mind what had happened. "If he had cared just a little, if he'd had just a little compassion, he'd have at least looked at me."

  "No, he wouldn't. He's not your husband, the Earl of Cleaves, any longer, remember? That man is dead. He's just another crewman from the Kelsey Marie, trying to stay alive. If he'd acknowledged you, someone might have become suspicious."

  Jillian sighed. "Perhaps you're right."

  "I am. Think logically, Jilly. If Indigo suspected that crewman with the red beard was your husband, he'd have had him killed. Duncan knew that. He was playing it safe."

  "What you're saying makes sense. I know that." Jillian pressed her handkerchief to her forehead. "It's just that I'm having a difficult time trying to think with my head and not my emotions."

  Beatrice went back to her drink. "You're overwrought. Now, hush about this nonsense. You'll make yourself and the baby sick."

  Jillian spun around, pressing a finger to her lips. She knew the housekeeper, Maria, wasn't far away; and below the balcony, a picaroon in a red cap stood watch. "We mustn't let anyone know I'm with child," she whispered. "Right now, it's Indigo's infatuation with me that's saving our hides. If he finds out I'm going to have Duncan's baby, he's liable to sell us both as he did poor Mrs. Amstead. I wouldn't—"

  "Ladies, ladies . . ."

  The distinct sound of Indigo's voice silenced Jillian.

  Indigo swept onto the balcony. He was wearing a pair of ankle-length white, wide-legged breeches and a turquoise shirt that fell loosely to his hips. With his suntanned skin and dark hair pulled neatly into a queue, he looked much like one of the natives. "I hope this evening finds you well." He nodded cordially to Beatrice, but then turned his attention to Jillian. "Dearest?"
/>   "I don't want to be here," Jillian stated flatly.

  "Well, where do you want to go?"

  Jillian's voice caught in her throat. All she could think of was Duncan. Back on the boat, in those days they had shared alone in their cabin, she had thought she and her husband had grown much closer. She had thought Duncan had begun to fall in love with her, even if he couldn't yet admit it. Now, she was riddled with doubt. Perhaps she should have remained in London with the dowager. At least there, the baby wouldn't have been at risk.

  "I don't know where I want to be," she whispered, as much to herself as to the pirate, as she stared into the jungle that was now growing dark. "Just not here."

  Indigo sighed. "I understand, my darling, that the notion of remaining here with me will take some adjustment. I'm certain you were quite fond of your husband. But in time, your memory of him will fade. I will become your protector, your companion, your lover."

  Jillian stared dismally into the darkness. The pirate was mad, stark raving mad. He honestly thought she could come to care for him, after all he'd done. The intentions weren't even worth addressing. "Tell me something," she said softly. "You said that the attack on our ship was a business arrangement."

  "Yes, purely business."

  "Then someone hired you to kill . . . my husband."

  Indigo sighed. "I'm ashamed of myself, my darling, but yes."

  "Who?"

  Indigo leaned against the balcony, facing her. A small green lizard ran along the railing past his hand. "I wish that I could tell you, but I was merely hired to do the job. No names passed hands, only cold coin."

  "It was Algernon, of course," Jillian whispered softly. "Duncan's cousin Algernon sent you to kill us."

  "No, no, not all of you." Indigo raised his index finger. "There was some discussion of that, but I said I was not a killer of women or children. I have my standards."

  She was still staring out off the verandah, but not really seeing the jungle. Behind her, she heard a servant lighting torches, and suddenly they were bathed in soft light. "So what was supposed to be done with my sister and me?"