My Savage Lord (Hidden Identity)

by Colleen French

  Indigo clasped his hands, staring down at the tile floor. "It was left up to me, as long as you were never heard from again."

  "So, officially, I went down with the ship with my husband."

  "Officially, yes."

  Jillian didn't say anything else. What was to be said? She and Duncan had both misjudged Algernon. The depth of his hatred ran deeper than either had ever suspected, as did his tenacity.

  Indigo glanced at Beatrice. "Mademoiselle, let my housekeeper take you to your room beside your sister's. She has a charming meal prepared for you." Indigo nodded to Jillian. "I do hope you'll excuse my ill manners, but we have private matters to discuss."

  Beatrice rose. "Jillian?"

  "I'll be all right," she answered without much conviction. "I'll come in to say good night soon."

  Indigo clapped his hands softly, and Maria appeared out of nowhere. A thin woman in her mid-forties, she was dressed in a colorful sarong that fell just below her knees.

  "Oui, Master?" The older woman nodded her head with respect, but looked Indigo directly in the eye.

  "See to Miss Beatrice, Maria. Fetch for her whatever she desires; but remember, her room is to be locked from the hallway."

  Maria dipped a brief curtsy. "Oui."

  Indigo waited until Beatrice had departed and then produced a tiny lacquered black box. "I have something for you, Jillian."

  She shot him a cold glare. "I don't want it."

  He opened the box as if he could entice her. "Of course you do; every woman from babe to wrinkles likes jewels. Look, here. It's just come in from the Orient."

  The light from the torches caught the amber stone of the ring he displayed, and it sparkled like a thousand twinkling stars. It was, indeed, very beautiful. The pirate had excellent taste.

  "I want you to wear it."

  "I don't want it."

  Indigo took her limp hand. "Now, dearest, I will try to be patient; but I must warn you, my patience is not endless. Sulking is not becoming to a woman." He slipped the ring over her finger. "Now, I will allow you a certain time of mourning; but in the meantime, I want you to be civil—pleasant is preferable."

  "You expect me to be pleasant when you attack my ship and sink it, kill my—" Her voice caught in her throat as she thought of Will lying dead on the deck of the sinking ship. "You murder my husband, sell off a companion, and now keep my sister and me prisoner, and you suggest I be pleasant!"

  "I expect you to adjust as women must. It's all quite simple, really. You were married off to this Earl of Cleaves, and he's dead. I'm sorry. It wasn't meant to be personal. But I'll make it up to you. I want to make you my wife."

  "And if I refuse?"

  "As much as it hurts me to say this, you'll be sold to another man, dear. I know it sounds cold, but it's simply—"

  "Business," she finished for him, sarcastically.

  He smiled. "Exactly. I knew we would see eye to eye, you and I, Jillian. You're a bright woman and you're resilient. I knew that the first time I laid eyes upon your lovely face." He took her arm and led her to a table that was being set by two Jamaican girls. "Now, let's be finished with this nasty business of the rules. As long as you please me, you and your sister may stay together here at Lily's Fortune. Please me, and whatever you wish for, within reason, will be yours. Displease me, and I'll be forced to send you and your sister on your merry ways. I already know a man on the far side of the island who would greatly appreciate your sister's lovely face. Do you understand my terms?"

  Jillian looked up at him, studying his clear blue eyes. His words were not in jest. "I understand," she said softly.

  "Excellent. So there we have it. Now, shall we dine?" He pulled out a chair for her and she sat down.

  She didn't know what she was going to do. All she knew was that she wouldn't allow Beatrice and herself to be separated. She took her napkin, unfolded it in her lap, and reached for the cold drink one of the little Jamaican girls offered.

  Perhaps tomorrow this would all make more sense. Perhaps tomorrow she'd awaken to find this was all a horrendous dream.

  "Melon, darling?" Indigo offered her a plate of fresh fruit.

  Jillian forced a cordial smile. "Thank you, sir. Now, tell me about your plantation. You say it's sugarcane you grow?"

  The hot breeze wafted through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Jillian's bedchamber, and the mosquito netting that covered her carved rice bed swayed. The steady, unending rhythm of the mournful native drums filled the bedchamber . . . filled her head. Haunting voices that chanted rose out of the darkness to mingle with the night sounds of the jungle until they beat as one.

  Jillian rolled restlessly on the smooth, cool, linen sheets.

  Duncan? Duncan where are you?

  She found herself racing through the jungle, barefoot, her long white gown tangled in her legs. Sweat trickled down her face, stinging her eyes.

  The Jamaican drums beat faster.

  Someone was chasing her . . . something . . .

  The overgrown vegetation of the jungle floor suddenly came alive, closing in around her. Vines slithered along the ground, catching her ankles as she ran.

  It . . . he was gaining on her.

  Duncan! Her mind screamed, but no sound came from her throat.

  Jillian flailed her arms, tearing at the thick leaves and branches that blocked her way. Thorns tore at her hair and filmy gown. She beat at the broad, green leaves, refusing to give up, refusing to surrender.

  The vines rose out of the ground to grasp her wrists like iron chains.

  No, no . . . she screamed silently, fighting the ghostly apparitions. A moment before, the trees that stretched overhead had been harmless coconut palms, pine, and gum; but now they were long-limbed creatures of the dark, humid night closing in on her.

  Insects swarmed over her head, buzzing angrily. They flew into her eyes, blinding her; down her throat, choking her. Again and again she broke free of the tentacle-like vines that snatched at her hands and feet, only to be caught again.

  And still the unknown force behind her grew closer. She couldn't hear it, or see it, not even when she dared a look over her shoulder. But she knew it was there and she knew it was gaining on her.

  A giant snake abruptly shot up out of the tangled path ahead of her. A scream froze in Jillian's throat. Not a snake, but a snake skin, thick and transparent, floating above the jungle floor, its eyes glowing red.

  For the first time, a strangled sound escaped her lips. "Duncan!"

  A hand came out of nowhere to cover her mouth, to stifle the cry for help.

  Jillian fought frantically, trying to tear away the giant hand.

  "Jillian . . . Jillian, hush, it's me . . ."

  The voice was trying to trick her. It sounded like Duncan.

  Jillian struggled toward consciousness, the weight of her dream heavy on her mind. "D—Duncan?" she muttered beneath the hand.

  "Who else?"

  Jillian's eyes flew open as she sat straight up in the pirate's bed, gasping for breath. "Duncan!"

  It was he! Sweet Jesus, it was Duncan, half-naked, his face painted with mud and green pulp from leaves.

  He knelt among the white sheets, pulling her against his chest. A huge, half-moon hung in the sky outside the window, casting white light across the floor, through the mosquito netting, and onto the bed. He was covered with mud and smelled of the rotting jungle. His leggings had been cut off so that they were not much more than a savage's loincloth, and he carried a curved saber. But Jillian didn't care what he looked or smelled like as she flung her arms around him.

  "You came for me! You came for me," she repeated over and over again.

  "Of course I came for you," he whispered into her ear. "I would never abandon you. I came for you because . . . because I love you, Jillian."

  She lifted her head from his shoulder to stare into his green eyes. She wondered if she were still dreaming. She was almost afraid to speak for fear of breaking the spell.

  "
What did you say?"

  He smoothed her cheek with his muddy hand. "You're not going to make this easy for me, are you? I said, I love you, Jilly." He exhaled. "It took Will's death, it took having you torn from my arms to know it, but I love ye. I've loved you since I first set eyes on you in your father's garden. I was just too stubborn, too stupid, to know it." He was breathing heavily, as if his words had taken great effort. But the tone of his voice was witness to his sincerity. "Will was right, you were right, even Grandmother was right. It's time I stopped being so bullheaded about the past and got on with my life. I can't change what I did, but I can control what I do now."

  Jillian grasped a handful of his full red beard and pressed her mouth to his. "I love you, too, Duncan: I love you; I love you." Then she smiled at him mischievously, looking into his eyes. "Though I must admit those were not my feelings that first day."

  He laughed softly. "I knew you'd be all right until I got here. I just knew it." Tentatively, he reached to brush his fingertip against her belly. "And the babe?"

  She smiled. "Fine."

  "Good, now let's see what we can do about finding Bea and getting out of this bloody place."

  He scooted back out of the mosquito netting of the bed and Jillian followed him, not yet willing to let go of his hand. "How did you find me?" She went on with nervous excitement. "I have so much to tell you. I know who did this to us."

  "Shhhh," he hushed. "We'll talk later, when we're far from this rotting hellhole. Now tell me where your sister is. She's all right, isn't she?"

  "Bea's fine. We'll have to go down the hallway. She's in the next room, but it's at the end of the corridor."

  "We haven't much time. The entire perimeter of this place is patrolled by pirates with sabers. You would think it was the Tower of London Indigo was protecting, instead of just a futtering, bug-infested house."

  Jillian released Duncan's hand to grab up a few of her belongings. "They took all of my clothes to launder," she whispered.

  Duncan had walked to her bedchamber balcony to look out the window through the filmy curtains. He glanced at her. "Wear that for now, then. We'll get decent clothing as soon as we can."

  She grabbed a pillow off the bed, removed its case, and began to fill the makeshift bag with the few belongings she didn't want to leave behind—the petticoat with her coin and jewelry sewn into the hem, the mirror and brush Duncan had given her, a tiny book from her childhood, now water stained but still intact.

  Duncan came to her side, glancing at the large stone ring that rested at the bedside. Even in the moonlight, she saw him lift his eyebrow. "A gift from an admirer?"

  She frowned, glancing away from his camouflage-painted face. "Indigo. He fancies himself in love with me. He's actually been a gentleman." She rolled her eyes. "He wants to marry me."

  Duncan chuckled, but without mirth. "Thank goodness I came when I did, eh? Otherwise I'd have had to wait in line."

  She took his hand. "Let's go. I'm ready. I've no shoes, but—"

  "You'll be better off without them anyway, sweet." He took her pillowcase sack from her hands and tossed it over his shoulder. "We'll have to cut through the jungle into the town. We can't risk being seen on the road." He took her hand. "When we reach Maryland, I'll buy you a pair of shoes for every day of the year if you like." He clasped her hand. "Now, let's get the hell out of here."

  Cautiously, he opened the door to the hallway, and stood stock still, staring into the blackness.

  "Indigo sleeps downstairs," she whispered. "Everyone's asleep, let's go."

  "Shhhh," he hushed.

  "What is it? Do you hear—" The instant Jillian's bare feet hit the cool tile, a huge dog leapt from the darkness to sink its teeth into Duncan's arm. A cry of alarm rang out in the house as Duncan fought the snarling cur.

  Jillian screamed as the black hallway filled with torch light and charging pirates.

  Twenty-two

  In a matter of seconds, the corridor was in utter confusion. Duncan kicked the vicious black dog so hard with his bare foot that the cur hit the far wall with a yelp and slumped, dazed, to the tiled floor, its tongue lolling.

  The pirates shouted in a mixture of French, English, and Jamaican as they filled the hallway from the stairwell, trapping Jillian and Duncan. .

  Behind her, Jillian could hear Bea shouting and pounding desperately on her locked bedchamber door.

  Duncan drew his saber as the first two brigands approached, their own swords ready-handed.

  "Behind me," Duncan ordered Jillian tersely. Then under his breath, "If we can get to Bea's room and out her window . . ."

  Jillian nodded in understanding as she retreated down the hallway, protected from the attackers by Duncan's massive form. Though her sister's bedchamber was their only chance of escape, she knew it was not likely they would make it. She didn't understand how Duncan thought they could escape with so many pirates in the corridor, so many surrounding Indigo's house. But she didn't take the time to question the feasibility. She only wanted desperately to escape with him with her and sister still alive.

  "Surrender!" the picaroon Jillian recognized as Chuma shouted, swinging a saber.

  Duncan backed up slowly, fighting inch by inch, moving Jillian closer to her sister's door. But it was still so far, at least fifteen feet.

  The corridor stank of burning pitch torches and unwashed bodies. The pirates jabbered in half-a-dozen languages, shouting in the excitement of the moment.

  Chuma lunged at Duncan, and Duncan stepped back smoothly, blocking the parry. With the ease of one of the king's own swordsmen, he returned the offensive move with one of his own. The tip of his saber cut smoothly into the Jamaican's arm, and the pirate howled with anger. Duncan barely drew back his saber before another scoundrel lunged, and yet another. Like wild curs, the pack was closing in on him. Metal clanked against metal as Duncan ducked and dove, trying to always keep one step away from the pirates' swords.

  Jillian wished desperately that she had a weapon, anything, to help defend herself, her sister, and her husband. Behind her, she could still hear Bea pounding on the door, crying her sister's name, begging to be released.

  "We're coming," Jillian shouted. "Hold on, Bea!"

  Everything was happening so quickly.

  Duncan struck down the pirate she had seen skinning the snake, but others charged over him, crushing him beneath their feet.

  Beyond the eight or ten men, Jillian caught sight of Indigo as he appeared in the torch light, dressed in a linen banyan. "Sweet Christ, get him!" the pirate captain ordered, running his fingers through his rumpled black hair. "And don't hurt the woman. God's ass! Can't you do anything right, Chuma? How did he get into my house?" he ranted. "How did he get past the guards? I'll have you all strung up by your gonads, by Christ, I will!"

  Jillian rested her hand on Duncan's back. They had almost reached Beatrice's door now. Duncan was sweating profusely, gasping from the exertion. Blood trickled down his chest where he'd been nicked by the tip of a sword, the blood mingling with the ochre paint of his tattoos.

  Duncan swung his saber over his head and struck a pirate in a red-knit cap at the neck. Jillian grimaced, squeezing her eyes shut, as blood spurted from the wound, splattering the white stucco wall, Duncan, and the other pirates with the gore. The man fell like a brick; but once again, the pirates paid no attention to their fallen comrade. It almost seemed as if the grisly blood added to their frenzied excitement. It made no difference that it was the blood of one of their own, only that it was a kill.

  Jillian was shocked by how savagely Duncan fought. She couldn't fathom how this man who could be so gentle, so tender, could fight with such unabashed ferocity. He swung the saber again and again with swift, calculated movements, moving gracefully, more like a macabre dancer than a swordsman.

  "Jillian!" The door rattled over Jillian's left shoulder as she heard her sister shouting frantically. "Let me out!"

  "We're coming," Jillian cried, too frightened for t
ears. "He's come for us! Duncan's here!"

  Jillian felt the door with her hand, and she turned to fumble with the knob.

  Finally, the lock clicked, and Beatrice flung the door open. Jillian backed in, with Duncan directly in front of her. He made a quick repartee, stepping forward, driving the two closest pirates back.

  "He's getting away! Damn you, stupid asses!" Jillian heard Indigo shouting. "Give me one of those frigging sabers and let me cut him down!"

  Once the pirates backed up to avoid the deadly blade of Duncan's saber, he retreated rapidly through the bedchamber door and slammed it shut. "Run," he shouted, his voice booming. "Run, Jilly! Take your sister and run! Through the window, into the jungle!"

  "Aren't you coming?" She was already racing for the window, her sister's trembling hand in hers. "I won't go without you!"

  "I'll catch up!"

  She heard the lock click from the inside.

  "This will only hold them a minute. They'll break down the door!"

  Uncontrollable tears streamed down Jillian's face. She had lost Duncan once; the thought of being separated again, even for a short time, was almost unbearable. But she ran anyway. She ran for the sake of Duncan's child whom she carried in her womb; she ran for her sister.

  Out on the bedchamber balcony, Jillian peered over the iron rail. A stream of moonlight shone a path through the jungle, across the grassy lawn. "We'll have to jump," she told her sister.

  "Jump? I can't jump!"

  Hiking the filmy skirt of her sleeping gown to her thighs, Jillian threw her bare leg over the painted railing. "Yes, you can, and you will!" She flung the other leg over, holding onto the rail so that she was balanced on a ledge only three or four inches wide. "Come on, Bea! Else I'll leave you here, by God!" She put out her hand to her sister.

  After an instant's hesitation, Beatrice climbed over the rail. "I should have stayed in London," she moaned, gripping the iron. "I wasn't cut out for adventure: I told you I wasn't!"

  The bedchamber was filled with the sound of splintering wood and crumbling plaster as the door came crashing in.