My Savage Lord (Hidden Identity)

by Colleen French

  Jake grinned, his black eyes twinkling. "Christ no, I don't want to cut! But I want to rid myself of that wagon I'm haulin'. Hard for a man to escape through the jungle, pullin' a wagon he's chained to."

  "You really think you could do it?" Duncan had both eyes open now. " . . . we could do it?"

  " 'Course we could, with the right circumstances." Jake winked. "That and a prayer."

  Duncan lowered his voice. The man beside him was snoring, but he would take no chances. A man could be rewarded with food for telling tales; and if the foreman learned he and Jake were even discussing escape, he'd have them both beheaded without as much as a blink of his eye. "And then what?"

  Jake shrugged. "We set my crewmen free and anyone else willin' to go with us, and we head for the Port Royal harbor, of course."

  "And what, might I ask, friend, is in the harbor?"

  "That filthy pirate Indigo's ships, of course. You sure are stupid for an earl, man."

  Duncan chuckled. It was Jake's sense of humor and thoughts of his Jilly that had gotten him through those first few days of work in the sugarcane fields. It was Jake who had convinced him he would see his Jillian again if he wanted it badly enough. "We take the ship?"

  "Why not? I got me a decent crew, those still left livin.' "

  "And then what?"

  Jake grinned ear to ear. "We pick up that pretty red-haired wife of yours and we sail for paradise, home to the Chesapeake, which, I swear by God a'mighty, I'll never leave if He'll get me there safely once more!"

  Duncan smiled. It was far-fetched, wishful thinking, nothing more. He knew no one escaped the cane fields, except by death. "And just how are we going to lead this mutiny of ours, friend?" Duncan closed his eyes, too weary to keep them open any longer. His shoulders ached and his hands, with their open wounds, smarted. He didn't know how long he could stay in decent health without food or rest. Soon he would begin to lose his strength, and then he would no longer be able to fight. He'd not be fit enough to escape.

  But then he thought of Jillian and her laughter. He thought of the baby, his baby, nestled in her womb. He thought of the son who had died in his arms, and Duncan knew he wasn't ready to die yet. He wasn't ready to give up, not as long as he thought his lady-wife Jillian lived. "I said, how do you intend to lead this mutiny?" Duncan repeated.

  Jake grinned, his even white teeth shining in the darkness. "Machetes."

  "Machetes?"

  Jake raised a meaty hand, slicing an invisible weapon through the air. "You and I get called to the cane fields, and we're as good as free." He winked at Duncan. "As good as home."

  Jillian sat on the edge of her bed, dressed for her supper with Indigo. But her head was aching, her stomach churning. The baby was growing larger by the day now, the girth of her abdomen increasing. Jillian couldn't imagine how Indigo had not yet noticed, and she had begun to live in fear.

  Beatrice came across the room, a sparkling topaz necklace in her hands. "Wear this. It'll look lovely with your gown."

  Jillian groaned as she allowed her sister to climb onto the bed and fasten the necklace. It was a gift from Indigo, of course.

  "I don't want to go."

  "You have to. He's expecting you. Besides, he gave the order to start digging that well for the slaves today. You have to be nice to him."

  "I don't want to be nice to him." She fiddled with one of the folds of her gown. "Bea, he talks about touching me."

  Beatrice peered over her sister's shoulder, blushing. "He talks about it?"

  Jillian sighed. "He talks about little else these days, but the wedding and the consummation." She shivered. "It's disgusting. I just can't imagine letting another man touch me where only Duncan has."

  Beatrice climbed down off the bed, moistening her lower lip with the tip of her tongue. The little lap dog Indigo had given Jillian followed her, playing at her heels. "What—what does he say?"

  "He says he's going to bathe me with rose water from the petals of that futtering rosebush of his. Then he'll lay me out on his bed and dry me with soft cloths."

  Beatrice listened wide-eyed.

  "Then he says he's going to rub scented oil on his hands and touch me."

  "Men do that?"

  "Well, I suppose they do, with their wives," Jillian snapped, not meaning to.

  But Beatrice took no offense. "Did—did Duncan ever do those things to you?"

  Jillian smiled, remembering. Without realizing it, she brushed her breast with her fingertips. "Not oil, but he once dripped honey all over my breasts and licked it off. Then he dribbled it—" She caught her breath, suddenly embarrassed.

  Beatrice's eyes were wide, her mouth forming a perfect "o." "I didn't realize it . . . it could be like that. Mother just called it a duty, like mending. Something a wife had to endure because it was what was expected of her."

  Jillian chuckled, getting off the bed to retrieve her hairbrush. Her silky blue gown, sewn for the tropics, made a swishing sound as she walked. "Oh, Bea, it's nothing like what Mother told us—not when you care about each other, at least. Duncan called it making love. It was . . . it was, oh, I can't explain it to you." She turned to her sister, running the brush through her thick, auburn hair. "But one day you'll understand, if you're so lucky as to find someone you love."

  Beatrice scooped the puppy off the floor and walked to the open window, stroking the pet that had become her own. " I 'm beginning to lose hope in that dream.''

  "Well, don't. Your life isn't over, and neither is mine. Something will happen to change all this. We'll make something happen, you and I."

  Beatrice turned to look at her sister. " I'm so glad to hear you say that. "You're beginning to sound like the Jillian I've always known and loved."

  A knock came at the door, interrupting the women's conversation. "Yes?" Jillian called, knowing who it was.

  "Might I come in, darling?"

  Jillian gave a sigh. "Certainly."

  Indigo appeared in the doorway, dressed as handsomely as ever in a grass-green doublet and matching wide-legged breeches. At his waist, he wore a jewel-encrusted saber. "Ready, darling? I thought we'd have a little liquid refreshment on the balcony and then retire to my chambers for a more . . . intimate supper."

  Jillian pressed her hand to her forehead. She truly wasn't feeling well. She just hadn't been able to adjust to the climate as her sister had. "Indigo, I'm not feeling well."

  He crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm losing my patience with this, my love."

  "I'm sorry; I am. I think I spent too much time in the sun today. Bea and I were overseeing the rebuilding of the slave quarters."

  He sighed irritably. "I told you not to stay too long. And I had such a lovely supper prepared. Blackened swordfish. I was dearly looking forward to a little feminine company after a long day of toil."

  To Jillian's surprise, Beatrice suddenly stepped forward. "If . . . if it would please you, sir, I'd be willing to sup with you."

  Indigo turned to look at Beatrice, lifting an eyebrow. He stared for a long moment, as if seeing her for the very first time. "You wouldn't find my company boring?"

  She smiled graciously. "Not at all, sir."

  Indigo extended his hand, and Beatrice came forward to take it. Why, her sister was behaving as if the pirate were her consort!

  "Then, please, do join me." Indigo pressed a kiss to the back of Beatrice's hand.

  Jillian rolled her eyes.

  "You wouldn't mind, darling?" Indigo asked Jillian.

  She smiled. "Not at all. If you could just send Maria up with a little fruit and cheese and to help me remove my gown, I'll need nothing else."

  He bowed graciously. "I'll send her up immediately." Then he stepped aside to make way for Beatrice. "Mademoiselle . . ."

  Beatrice and Indigo had just stepped into the hallway when Jillian called after her sister. "Bea, wait!"

  Hurrying across the room, Jillian removed her necklace. She caught up to her sister in the doorway. "You wear it," sh
e whispered. "It matches your beautiful eyes."

  Before Beatrice could protest, Jillian fastened the jeweled necklace around her sister's throat. "See you in the morning," she whispered in her sister's ear. "Call me if you need me." Then she slipped back into her room and closed the door, looking forward to an evening alone.

  Twenty-five

  "He wants to see you."

  A long shadow cast across her feet, and Jillian looked up from where she sat on the top step of the porch. Beatrice stood in the grass in front of her, her lap dog curled in her arm. Jillian had given her the puppy because she'd felt she couldn't care for it properly. Besides, she liked cats better and still missed the orange tabby kitten Duncan had given her after the scaffolding incident.

  "Is he angry?"

  "He's impatient." Beatrice dropped down beside Jillian on the step. "Jilly, I need to talk to you. It's time to make a decision. We need a plan, you and I."

  Jillian held her head, trying to keep herself together. She knew where this conversation was going. "It's too soon."

  "It's been nearly two months since Duncan . . . died. We're not going to escape, at least not anytime soon. You heard what the man told us in the market: No one crosses Indigo Muldune. No one's going to help us at the risk of their own lives."

  Jillian ran her hand over her abdomen; and as if in response, her baby kicked heartily. Her sister was right. She knew it. She just hated the thought of admitting defeat. "I'm six months along. I won't be able to hide the baby much longer, will I?"

  Bea shook her head, scratching her little brown dog behind the ears. "I'm afraid not.

  With a sigh, Jillian stared out into the tangled jungle. It had just stopped raining, and the air was hot and humid and filled with the scent of blooming flowers. Enormous droplets of rainwater fell from a broad, leafy plant beside the stone step, and she put out her hand to catch one. "What would you do if you were in my situation, Bea?"

  "I'm not you, Jilly. I could never be like you. I'm just not as strong. I despise confrontation, I—"

  "What would you do?"

  Beatrice put her hands together, threading her fingers. "You're six months gone. You'll not be able to hide the baby much longer beneath your gown. I'd marry Indigo with the agreement I would keep my child and my sister. I would marry him and change his ways."

  Jillian lifted her wide-brimmed straw hat off her head and wiped her perspiration-dotted forehead with her handkerchief. "I'd be betraying Duncan's memory."

  "In England you'd have had to remarry."

  "Not my husband's murderer."

  Beatrice stared out at the jungle. "Perhaps not, but odder things happen. Remember when Mrs. Olsen died in childbed and Jane had to marry her stepfather?"

  A lump rose in Jillian's throat. "It's not the same thing."

  Bea looked at her sister. "I'm sorry. I don't know what to say, except choose the lesser of the evils. You're not going to get what you want. You heard Chuma's report to Indigo. They buried your husband's body in the jungle."

  "Without as much as a Christian burial." Jillian laughed morosely. "Or even a pagan one."

  "Duncan isn't Lazarus. He can't rise from the dead," Beatrice went on gently. "But perhaps you can keep your baby . . . his baby."

  Jillian rose, dropping her hat back on her head. "Where is he?"

  Beatrice pointed toward the back lawn. "Bowling with Chuma."

  "I'll go talk to him."

  Beatrice looked up from where she sat on the Step, her pretty peach-colored gown in billows of sheer linen around her. "Want me to come with you?"

  Jillian shook her head with resignation. "No. I have to do this myself."

  "Jillian?" Beatrice called after her.

  Jillian turned around. "Yes?"

  Bea was smiling bittersweetly. "I love you, sister, and I'm glad I came. I'm glad I can be here with you through this."

  Jillian smiled back, then went to find Indigo.

  She located him on the back verandah, sipping a glass of frozen lemonade. It never ceased to amaze Jillian that no matter how hot it got, Indigo still had ice in his ice house, shipped from the north.

  "Darling!" Indigo called to her when he spotted Jillian coming across the lawn.

  She kicked a stray wooden bowling ball as she walked. "So who won, you or Chuma?"

  Chuma stood on the end of the verandah, a glass of ale in his hand. He didn't seem to care much for Jillian or her presence, but the feeling was mutual. The bastard had been the one who had actually murdered her Duncan.

  "Oh, blast him, Chuma won." Indigo came down off the verandah to take her hand and lead her up the Steps. "But he cheated, of course."

  Jillian smiled. Bea was right; Indigo could be rather charming when he wanted to. "So demand a rematch." She sat down on the two-seated swing made from woven palm leaves.

  "Lemonade, love?"

  "Thank you." Jillian accepted the glass from Indigo's hand. He was dressed impeccably this afternoon as always, with his dark hair smoothed back over his head and tied neatly with a blue ribbon from one of her own smocks.

  Indigo picked up his glass and sat in the swing beside her. "Chuma, thank you for the game. You may go."

  Chuma looked at Indigo with his watery brown eyes, and Jillian wondered why Indigo didn't see the hatred in his stare. She wondered why he trusted Chuma as he did. The man was always skulking about.

  Indigo patted Jillian's hand, taking her from her idle thoughts. "Such a pleasant surprise to see you smiling, darling."

  She sipped her lemonade, unable to bring herself to look at him. "You wanted to see me?"

  He crossed his legs, giving the hammock-like swing a push. They drifted back. "Yes, I did. It's time we had one of our little talks."

  She stared straight ahead as they swung forward. Chuma was out on the lawn retrieving the bowling balls, just out of earshot. "Yes?"

  "I'd like to set a wedding date."

  She gave a push with the toe of her slipper, and the swing drifted back with the two of them again. "I see."

  She heard him sip from his glass.

  "Does that mean you agree?"

  She thought long and hard before she spoke. Images of Duncan flashed through her head. There was so much she had never learned about him . . . so many pieces of the puzzle she had never had a chance to put together. Duncan had lost his first child and she knew that it had hurt him. At least she could save this one. "Indigo . . ."

  "Jillian?"

  She made herself look into his sharp blue eyes. "Indigo, before I agree to the wedding, a deal will have to be struck between you and me."

  Indigo sighed good-naturedly. "No matter what you give a female, she always wants more." He fluttered his hand. "Well, come, come, tell me your terms."

  "I have something to confess, first . . ." A lump rose in her throat; tears stung speak . . .

  "The baby?" Indigo prompted after a moment.

  She looked up at him in surprise "You know?"

  He shrugged his shoulders and reached for his handkerchief from his sleeve, taking her glass from her. "I'm an observant man. Here, darling, wipe your eyes."

  She accepted his handkerchief and dabbed her face. "How long have you known?"

  "Oh, weeks. More than a month."

  She sniffed. "Why didn't you say anything?"

  "I wanted you to come to me. I wanted you to feel that you could trust me."

  "Trust the man that had my husband murdered?"

  "I've explained all that to you numerous times. I'm a businessman."

  "And it was just business," she intoned.

  "Perhaps poor business. But I cannot change the past, only alter the future."

  Jillian took a deep breath. "I won't give up my baby."

  "Your husband's child, I assume."

  "Yes." She crumpled the handkerchief in her hand, feeling stronger already. She would come out the winner in this deal. The pirate wouldn't get the best of her. She wouldn't let him. "And my sister will not be taken from me, no
t ever. She will not be forced to marry a man she doesn't want. She will be no one's concubine. Chuma will not have her."

  He raised an eyebrow. "Chuma?"

  "I see how he looks at her. I also know you can be generous to a fault. I wouldn't put it past you to give my sister to a man as a gift."

  He chuckled at her observation. "Considering your plight, your request is lengthy."

  Jillian got out of the swing, suddenly impatient to have this matter settled between them. "So why ask my terms? Why not rape me? Forget this farce of marriage. Force me against my will. I don't know why you haven't already."

  He put her glass on a table beside the swing, slapping it down so hard that sweet lemonade splashed over the side. "I told you!" he insisted. "I want something good in my life. Something decent. My father filled this house with whores. My mother was nothing more than a slave. I want better for my children."

  She opened her hands, beseeching. "So you kidnap me?"

  Indigo rose from the swing to pace the verandah. "What decent woman would have me? Look at what I am. What I've become." He grabbed one of the supporting posts and stared into the jungle. "My father," he muttered. "I've become what I swore I would never become. The bastard . . ."

  Jillian, in turn, stared at Indigo. For the first time, she actually felt sorry for him, and she hated herself for it. This was the man who had killed her beloved, her Duncan. "If I agree, do we have a bargain?"

  "You have to give yourself to me honestly. You have to try."

  "I can make no promises. I loved my husband deeply; but for the sake of my child, I would try to come to care for you as a wife should her husband."

  Indigo turned to face her. "Does that mean you'll marry me, Jillian?"

  It was on the tip of tongue. She almost said yes, but she couldn't. Logic told her to say it and get it over with. But her heart told her she couldn't give in. Not yet. "It means you will have my decision shortly."

  "More stalling." He came toward her. "You don't have a choice."

  "Two more days, Indigo. I ask two more days."

  He caught her hand, turning it in his own. "I shouldn't give in to you. Chuma says I'm too easily manipulated by you and your sister."