My Savage Lord (Hidden Identity)

by Colleen French

  Duncan grinned, unable to conceal his pride. "Of a fine, healthy son."

  "I'm so happy for you." Bea reached behind her to take Indigo's hand. He was dressed all in white as well, with hat nearly identical to Beatrice's. "Jillian, Duncan, I want you to meet my husband." She smiled shyly at Indigo, who seemed to have eyes only for her. "Indigo Muldune."

  Duncan watched Jillian's jaw drop.

  "Your . . . your husband?" Jillian was barely able to speak. "Is this why you're not staying with me? You . . . you married a pirate? You married the man who tried to kill us?"

  "He is no longer a pirate, and he is deeply ashamed of his past transgressions. From now on, my Indigo will be using his talents to improve his sugarcane operation. It will be entirely legitimate, I can guarantee."

  Jillian couldn't stop staring at the two of them.

  "We're on our way to the Carolina Colonies. My husband will be receiving a full pardon from the Royal Governor there."

  Duncan chuckled. This was not the first time he'd heard of such pardons. The cost came high, but it was all perfectly legal. A Royal Governor had free rein to do as he saw fit, including making money where he saw the opportunity. "For a price, he'll receive a pardon," he offered.

  Beatrice looked at him. "Of course. But then his debt to society will be paid, won't it?"

  Indigo removed his hat, sweeping a full bow, speaking for the first time. "It is good to see you again, my lord, this time under better circumstances. I'm glad to have this opportunity to ask your forgiveness for my past errors . . . in judgment, shall we say? It took Beatrice to make me understand that."

  Duncan nearly laughed out loud. It all sounded so ridiculous, but the truly funny thing was that he believed them both. They looked in love. And he guessed they were a hell of a lot happier with each other than he and Jillian were right now.

  "I understand that you cannot forget what I did; I only ask that, as a Christian, you find it in your heart to forgive me," Indigo continued.

  Duncan took a step toward him, his eyes narrowing. "Are you sincere in your intentions to my wife's sister? Or is this a farce to clear your name so that you can return to pirating? "

  He opened his her." He took Bea's palm. "Thank goodness ness I didn't betray her sister." He leaned

  He opened his arms. "I'm a changed man, sir. I love her." He took Bea's hand, raising it to his lips to kiss her palm. "Thank goodness I realized it in time. Thank goodness I didn't betray that budding love by consorting with her sister." He leaned to kiss Beatrice's painted mouth.

  Duncan blanched. "What did you say?"

  "I said, I am thankful I didn't have relations with dea Jillian here, though I was sorely tempted. No offense intended, but you were supposed to be dead." His gaze was on Beatrice again. "I'm thankful I saved myself for my wife."

  Jillian glanced at Duncan, as if to say didn't I tell you so?

  All he could do was stare at her lovely face, seeing the hurt in her cinnamon eyes. Suddenly, he realized he'd made a grave error, perhaps the gravest in his lifetime—and he'd certainly made many. He'd not believed Jillian; and now, he knew for a fact that she'd spoken the truth. He knew it as well as he knew his own name. It wasn't the pirate's words A man could say anything. It was the look on his face.

  "Excuse me," Duncan said, not sounding quite like himself. "I need to speak to Jillian privately. Would you care to come onto the porch for a cool drink?"

  Beatrice looped her arm through Indigo's. "You two go ahead. We'll take a walk on the beach first. We've been cooped up too long on the ship."

  Duncan took Jillian's hand and led her toward the house "What is it?" she asked, annoyed.

  "I need to talk to you."

  "Now? When my sister's just returned?"

  "Now, Jilly."

  "Where are you taking me?"

  He led her up the lawn, onto the front porch. "Somewhere where we speak in private." He clasped her hand tightly. "I've made a terrible mistake, Jilly."

  He pushed through the front door. Daphne was standing in the airy hallway, little Will perched on her hip. "Grand mother," he said. "Beatrice has arrived with her new husband. Could you see to getting something to drink for them? I have to talk to Jillian alone."

  His grandmother looked surprised, but she said nothing. She had certainly known of the rift between him and Jillian since their arrival, but she had not questioned him on the matter. Perhaps she sensed this had something to do with it. "Go." She waved. "I'll see to your guests."

  Duncan opened the parlor door and gestured for her to go in.

  Jillian walked past him, entering the parlor that still lacked furniture, and moved to the window. She knew what he was going to say. She just wasn't sure what her reaction would be. She was wrung out with emotion. She didn't know how much more she could stand in one day. "What is it, Duncan?" Her tone was cool.

  "Jillian, I've made a mistake. You didn't sleep with Indigo."

  "I told you that months ago. Why should you believe Indigo if you didn't believe me?"

  He exhaled. "I deserved that."

  "You deserve worse."

  "Jilly, I'm sorry." He went to her, reaching for her, then drawing back. His voice was filled with remorse.

  Jillian kept her back to him, petting her orange tabby cat. Daphne had brought Sarah from London, and she was sitting on the windowsill. The cat purred.

  Jillian didn't know what was wrong with her. This was what she had wanted, wasn't it? Why did it matter how he came to believe her, as long as he did? "Duncan, I think it's too late for this."

  "I said I'm sorry," he repeated. He was silent for a moment before he spoke again. "Jillian, maybe I didn't believe you because I didn't want to."

  She turned to look at him, thinking he merited at least that. "I don't understand what you're saying."

  "Don't you see? I've felt betrayed my whole life."

  "But I didn't betray you!"

  "But if you did, I could always use that as an insulation between us," he explained haltingly. "So that when thing did go wrong . . . it wouldn't hurt so much."

  Jillian studied his face—his pensive green eyes, the bear claw tattoo on his suntanned cheek. She loved him so much and yet . . . yet she was afraid. They were so different. Their love for each other had not changed Duncan's past, nothing could. The ghosts would always be there. Perhaps she would be better off in England. Perhaps he had been right all along when he had intended to leave his wife behind.

  "Duncan—"

  There was a sharp rap on the door.

  "Go away," Duncan hollered. "We're busy."

  To Jillian's surprise, the door swung open. It was Daphne No one else would have dared disobey Duncan.

  "Grandmother, please. This is a private conversation."

  She closed the door behind her. "So it is. But now I'm a part of it." She pointed at him. "Now, listen to me. I have tried to keep to my own affairs. I have not interfered in your relationship with your wife, but I'll be damned if it's not time I did." She turned on Jillian. "All this stuff and nonsense. Be realistic, girl. He said he was sorry. He said he was wrong. He knows now you didn't bed the pirate, so stop being so stubborn and forgive him!"

  Jillian was shocked. "You eavesdropped?"

  "A person can't help what they hear through these walls! What's important is that the two of you love each other You don't belong in London, Jillian. You belong here with my grandson."

  "But I'm afraid this will never end, Daphne." She fought tears of frustration. "It's one thing after another. I feel like I'm fighting his past day in and day out."

  She swung her fist. "So fight it! He's come so far. You can't give up now."

  Daphne looked at Duncan. "Go to her, boy. Tell her you love her. Beg her to stay." She shook her finger. "Let her go, and you'll regret it the rest of your days."

  Duncan looked at Jillian. She looked at him.

  "Do you really want to leave me?" he asked her.

  Jillian could feel a lump rising in he
r throat. She shook her head no, not sure she trusted her own voice.

  Duncan came to her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into his embrace she'd missed so much. "Ah, Jilly," he whispered, kissing her temple.

  The door closed quietly, and Daphne was gone.

  "I love you," he whispered. "I'll try harder. Just don't leave me. Don't let me chase you away. I need you. I need our son."

  "Duncan . . . " A tear slipped from the corner of her eye as she brushed her fingertips across his tattoo. "I do love you."

  "Does that mean you'll stay? Does it mean you'll come back to my bed, Jilly?" Now his eyes were filled with tears. "Because I need you there. I need you to hold me."

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and looked up into his eyes. "I'll stay," she whispered. "I'll stay and I'll love you forever, Duncan. I'll love you for your past. I'll love you in spite of it. You were destined to be mine."

  And then Duncan kissed her as only he could . . .

  Epilogue

  Ten Years Later

  "No. The molding is still not right." Jillian stood in the center of the newly constructed parlor, her hands on her hips in irritation. The room smelled of fresh paint and sanded hardwood floors. Through the open windows, she could hear her sons' laughter and smell a hint of lilac on the breeze. "Down." She waved to the carpenter. "That end still has to go lower. Haven't you a level, man? Surely carpenter would possess a level."

  "Have to go out to my wagon," answered the towhead sheepishly. He came down off the timber scaffold and made a fast exit.

  Jillian rolled her eyes. The new wing had been under construction all winter and she was anxious to see it completed. She crossed the room to the scaffold.

  "I don't understand why he can't see it," she muttered to herself. She stepped onto a stool, lifted her petticoat and hoisted herself onto the scaffold. "It's clear to me that this side needs to be lowered." She adjusted the molding that was only tacked up with a nail in the center. "That's better."

  "Jillian!"

  She spun around. "You startled me."

  Duncan strode toward her, one hand tucked behind his back. "You shouldn't be up there on the scaffold."

  "The molding wasn't straight. I'll not pay these men for shoddy work. As it is, this addition is going to set us back two years."

  "And what was that my lady-wife told me?" He cocked his head. "Something about the improvements being inexpensive?" He looked up into the vaulted ceiling. "This is beginning to resemble the Sistine." He looked at her, his eye narrowing. "And then there was the promise that the workmen would be in and out in six weeks time."

  "You want it to be nice, don't you? Now, not only will the boys have more room, but we'll have a place to entertain our friends. When Bea and Indigo and their two children come next spring, we'll have room for them."

  Duncan offered his hand to her, and she sat down on the edge of the scaffold. But instead of climbing down, she rested her hand on his broad shoulders. "What?" she asked. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

  "No reason." He was still smiling at her. "Only because I love you."

  She smiled in return, reaching out to stroke his tattooed cheek. "I never would have thought we could be this happy. Your grandmother, God rest her soul, was right. We do belong together, don't we?"

  "Forever and always," he answered, brushings his lips against hers.

  "Did you need something?" She was curious about whatever it was that he held behind his back. "You usually stay as far from the construction as possible."

  "Will wants you to come out to the pasture to see him on his new horse." He chuckled. "Ian and Alexander are already fighting over who will get his pony now that he has no need of it."

  She laughed with him. "I'm only surprised Lincoln isn't in the pasture with you."

  "Oh, he would be, if he could escape Mary's watchful eye. As bullheaded as he is, that boy will be riding by spring."

  "That's all you wanted me for? So, what have you got behind your back?" She tried to catch his arm, but he pulled it away.

  "Nothing."

  She knew he was teasing her. "Nothing? Then let me see your hand."

  "This hand?" He held up the one he was resting on her hip.

  "No. I swear, Duncan, you can be worse than the children!"

  He made a slight motion with his hand behind his back and then brought it around. "Nothing here, either."

  She laughed, knowing he was toying with her. But she'd play his little game. "All right, you have nothing for your dear, devoted wife. Help me down, and I'll come see Will and his horse. I fear if I remain here whilst that carpenter tries to fix the molding, he and I'll have words again."

  Duncan caught her around the waist and lowered her carefully to the ground. "There you go."

  "I'm pregnant, not ill," she reminded him.

  Duncan gave a sigh. "This one must be a girl." He turned away. "I swear you're more contrary than you've ever been. It's got to be a female child."

  The moment he turned, Jillian spotted a silken green bundle thrust into the rear waistband of his breeches. She ran past him, snatching the surprise.

  "What are you doing?"

  "Is this for me?" She fingered the precious wrapping.

  "Mayhap. If you've been good."

  "Oh, I have," she answered in a sultry voice. "I seem to recall your remarking so just last night."

  "So open it." He leaned against a sanded doorjamb, crossing his arms over his chest, obviously pleased that she was pleased.

  She stared at the silken bundle in her hands, enjoying the anticipation. "Where did it come from?"

  "Just came in on a ship. Indigo got it for me."

  Jillian lifted an eyebrow.

  "Legitimately, Bea assures me in her letter."

  Laughing, she walked to a sawhorse and put her gift down so that she could open it. When she pulled on the gold cord, inside she found yet more silky material, this time purple. She look at him questioningly.

  "You'll see."

  Jillian lifted the first piece of rich purple fabric. It was a square of semi-opaque silk with two small ribbons running from the top corners. She knew what it was in a second. Laughing, she lifted the veil to her face. "Is this for me, or you?" she teased, remembering all too well the scarf Duncan had once worn to hide his tattoo.

  "It's for you." He came to her. "And look what else. I ordered it especially for you nearly a year ago."

  Jillian watched in fascination as Duncan lifted a pair of filmy, transparent harem pants from the bundle. Still left was a sequined bodice of modest proportion. She took the pants from him, watching them flutter in the breeze that blew through the window. "For me?" Then she looked up at him, playing innocent. "But won't I be chilly, my lord?"

  Duncan came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. "They're for our bedchamber, sweet." He nibbled her earlobe. "So, I can assure you, you'll not be chilled."

  She turned in his arms so that she faced him, her laughter bubbling up. "Could I try them on now?" She pulled the veil over his shoulder in a slow, seductive way.

  "Now?" He pretended to be shocked. "In broad daylight?"

  She pressed her lips to his, whispering, "How better to see it on me than in broad daylight?"

  Duncan lifted her into his arms, their laughter mingling. With her bundle in her lap, he carried her out of the parlor toward their own private chambers . . . and years of happiness.

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  CAPTIVE

  One

  Susquehanna River

  Maryland Colony, 1758

  Three days, and I'm still alive . . .

  Tess shifted her weight on her knees and lifted the heavy paddle, thrusting it into the river again. Droplets of icy water splashed up, wetting her and the savage seated in the bow of the birchbark canoe.

  The Mohawk, Broken Tooth, turned around and barked at her in his guttural tongue,
raising his palm in a threat to strike her. Tess lifted her chin a notch as if to dare him, and stared straight ahead, focusing beyond him on the very tip of the painted canoe.

  Bastard . . . Three days ago this Mohawk with the decayed teeth, along with a dozen others, had attacked the hired carriage in which she and her cousin Jocelyn had been traveling. The beasts had killed the driver there on the road, but they had kidnapped Tess and Jocelyn.

  Tess concentrated on paddling as the canoe sliced through the water. She knew that she had to walk a delicate line between standing up to Broken Tooth and making him so angry that he slit her throat and threw her overboard into the muddy river.

  Tess didn't know why the red heathens had kidnapped her and Jocelyn, or what they intended to do with them. She didn't even want to consider the possibilities. She'd heard those whispered tales about other white women who'd been captured by Indians. Some were made slaves to hostiles up north, while others were sold to the French Canadians for whores.

  All Tess knew was that she had to be brave. She had to be brave and tough. She had to want to live badly enough to survive this. That was what she had tried to tell Jocelyn.

  Tess blinked back the tears that made her eye ache. She'd tried to help cousin Jocelyn. She'd tried to tell her that if she would just do what they said, Uncle Albert would come for them. He would bring soldiers and rescue them from the savages. They just had to hang on until help arrived.

  But Jocelyn wouldn't listen. She wouldn't keep up. The Indians were traveling fast and they expected the women to do the same. Tess had kept her mouth shut and done as she was told. She had pretended she wasn't afraid. Jocelyn had cried. She had begged. She had laid down in the forest and refused to get up, sobbing that she was tired and hungry. Tess had tried to drag her, she'd tried to carry her, but Jocelyn had refused to cooperate. She'd told Tess she'd rather be dead than be a captive of these murderers.

  The memories of Jocelyn's tortured screams echoed in Tess's mind, and gooseflesh raised on the back of her neck. She would never forget those sounds . . . not as long as she lived.