Captive

by Heather Graham

  His fleeting moments of tenderness were addicting. But he was equally and coldly determined to keep a good distance from her, and she would not lose pride and soul along with all else.

  She hadn’t caused this wretched bloodshed. And she wouldn’t be made to pay for it.

  “What a coincidence!” she murmured. “My real father, my birth father, had no sins, either. Not a single one. He was a perfect man in every way.”

  Jarrett laughed softly. Even James allowed the flicker of a rueful grin to touch his lips.

  “Lemonade?” he inquired.

  “Please,” she murmured.

  “Are you staying another night?” Jarrett asked him.

  He looked at Teela. “It’s a tempting proposition. The comfort within this house is always seductive.”

  She reached for her glass. Her fingers were trembling so that it nearly slipped through them. Jarrett looked at her oddly. He started to speak.

  But just then Tara hurried through the breezeway doors, smiling as she came toward them.

  “Jeeves will be right out,” she told them cheerfully.

  “James, after we eat, you must come see! Jennifer was playing with her baby cousin Ian while we rode, and they fell asleep together on the big bearskin rug in my room. They look like a pair of cherubs.”

  “Jen is really that good with the baby?” James asked his sister-in-law, smiling as he leaned back, looking up at her.

  “She’s wonderful. I told you that. I wasn’t making it up.” Tara reached across the table, squeezing his hand. Teela felt another little lurch in her heart. They were all so close. Some bond surrounded not only the brothers, not only man and wife, but all of them, the children as well. It was a family, she thought, and nothing got in the way of the love that was shared.

  James McKenzie, white-Seminole that he was, would never understand her envy of that. She’d had her mother. She’d loved her, cared for her. That love had been returned. But with Lilly’s illness and death, Teela had been on her own. She’d fought alone, she’d dreamed on her own. Other than Lilly’s love, the rest had been bitterness, all of her life.

  “Jennifer is truly a beautiful little girl,” Teela heard herself saying aloud without thought. James stared at her instantly. She wondered if he doubted her words. If he was waiting for her to add, a beautiful little girl for an Indian.

  “Is she like your wife?” she blundered on.

  Thankfully, he decided not to take offense. “Yes, quite a bit like Naomi,” he said. His voice was low, not angry.

  “But your daughter has your hair,” Teela said.

  “Our father’s hair,” Jarrett said.

  “Our sinless father’s hair,” James added, and Teela was glad to see his rueful smile.

  She grinned herself, then became aware that Tara was rising, staring out toward the river.

  “Jarrett, someone is coming,” she said.

  Jarrett stood as well, frowning. A small sloop was indeed coming down the river. “It’s a military ship,” he murmured, looking at his brother.

  James shrugged, and they all sat tensely, watching as the ship came into dockage.

  “Were you expecting someone?” Tara asked her husband.

  “Harrington … but not for a few days. And this ship appears to have come in from the west.”

  A gangplank was lowered from the vessel, and a man in full army-regulation uniform came striding immediately down it.

  Teela gasped, jumping to her feet as well. She couldn’t believe it. Dismay filled her in great, cold, rushing waves.

  “Warren!” James grated out, rising beside her, all of his feelings of hatred and contempt naked in his voice.

  Warren. Indeed.

  Teela gritted her teeth, barely breathing, watching as her stepfather reached the dock, spoke to the men there, then came quickly across the lawn and to the porch of Cimarron.

  James might be a savage, but he was right on one point.

  There was no greater demon than her stepfather.

  And here he was, destroying the beauty of the day. Destroying the small taste of intimate magic that was just beginning to be hers within this close-knit family.

  She blinked, then closed her eyes tightly. Let it not be true! Let it be a horrid daydream. A nightmare in the light of day.

  She opened her eyes. Of course, it was not a dream of any kind. Warren was real, a demon in the flesh.

  Ready to drag her back down to his hell.

  Chapter 8

  In appearance Major Michael Warren was one of the most correct military officers James had ever seen. His uniform blue was precise, his collar perfect, his trousers impeccably creased. Only his slouch hat gave credence to the merciless sun in Florida, while the plume that flew from it was surely a minor concession to vanity. He was a man perhaps in his late forties, curly brown hair winged with gray, very serious dark eyes, nose dead straight, features well arranged and very hard. His lips were narrow, often all but disappearing into the sun bronze of his face. He might have been a handsome man; it was almost as if he had willed himself not to be.

  “Mr. McKenzie!” Warren greeted them, his eyes upon Jarrett. He had met James on occasion. Bitter occasion for the most part, for though they’d not met in battle, they had come close several times. They had met once on opposite sides of an envoy’s desk, and once in the midst of Alligator’s camp when the Seminoles had kept their promise of truce with a far greater honor than Warren had ever offered himself. Warren was well aware that James was a McKenzie and Jarrett’s half brother; he had frequently shaken his head at James’s failure to use his heritage to become as white as he possibly could. That James’s blood was tainted was a fact beyond a doubt; that James didn’t use his father’s name to save his skin was false and foolish pride and sheer stupidity on the half-breed’s part.

  Warren came up the steps, drawing off a leather glove, offering his hand. Jarrett hesitated just briefly before taking it. Warren nodded to Tara, murmuring, “Mrs. McKenzie, it’s a delight to see you.”

  Tara murmured something. Jarrett said, “Major Warren, it was my understanding that John Harrington was coming to bring your daughter to you.”

  “I had not thought to be in the vicinity. As it is, I am pleased to thank you in person for your hospitality on her behalf.”

  “We’re delighted to have her,” Jarrett said.

  Warren’s eyes flicked over to his stepdaughter. James was startled by the simmering hatred that seemed to burn in the man’s eyes.

  Quite obviously it was returned. In fact, it was a most unnatural greeting. Neither father nor daughter had yet to speak to each other; they certainly did not rush forward to greet one another with a warm hug. They didn’t even seem inclined to be polite for the sake of propriety.

  “Running Bear,” Warren addressed James at last. James felt Teela’s eyes dart swiftly to him. He smiled. She hadn’t heard his Seminole name as yet; perhaps it was a shock to her. Perhaps it was good for her to realize that he had a Seminole name, and that it was the one by which her stepfather chose to address him, as did many of the soldiers.

  “Major,” he said evenly, inclining his head just slightly.

  “It’s good to see you in such civilized surroundings,” Warren said.

  “It’s good to be at my brother’s house.” James would not be baited.

  “It would most probably be very good for your health, sir, were you to spend more time within it.”

  “Alas, Major, we all have our duty, and strive to do it,” he replied.

  Warren shrugged. “I trust your journey was safe enough,” he said at last to Teela.

  “I have come in one piece,” she replied.

  “Without your guards.”

  “You mustn’t fault your daughter, sir, if we have misplaced a few army fellows. I hadn’t known they were expected to accompany her,” Jarrett interjected smoothly. “I am afraid I am guilty of having left the young men behind in Tampa.”

  “The danger of the Florida Territ
ory is everywhere and unpredictable,” Warren said. “Which makes a constant guard necessary.”

  “Not at my house,” Jarrett replied. “Though, Major, you do speak the truth of the danger. In fact, it is curious that a man so busy with warfare himself, sir, should think to bring his daughter here.” Jarrett said the words with a gentlemanly smile that somehow seemed to make the reproach still sound courteous and proper. But Warren did not give a damn what reproach other men might offer him.

  “We are a military family, sir, and wives and daughters of military men have long awaited husbands and fathers right behind the front lines. And, Mr. McKenzie, as you and your fair wife may one day discover, daughters can be as dangerous as the swamp, often as treacherous. This one is safest near me, wherever that may be. I admit, though, at the time I commanded her here, I had thought to be based at Tampa. But General Jesup drives a hard campaign, and I am most frequently in the thick of the wilderness now. I have, however, bought property in Tallahassee. I’ve wretchedly little time to see it, though, since so many of the hostiles have reneged on the agreements made in March.”

  James was not going to be dragged into the argument the man seemed to want to take up with him.

  “Tallahassee is a long way from here,” he said politely.

  “In times of trouble, certainly,” Warren agreed. “It doesn’t matter. It will be some time now before I manage to reach my property and provide a home there for Teela. But she is a strong lass, don’t be fooled. Stronghearted and strong-willed. She’ll do well enough with me wherever it is I need to travel.”

  “There are formidable warriors out there,” James reminded him.

  “I am a formidable man,” Warren said determinedly. “And a careful one.”

  Jeeves came out of the main house before anyone could reply. He carried a large silver tray and walked with a small black girl at his heels with a second serving platter, hers piled with silver flatware rolled in linen napkins. “Major Warren,” Tara said as Jeeves and the girl prepared the table. “You must join us for a light supper.”

  “I shall be delighted. In fact, Mr. McKenzie, as I am expecting Harrington to return by tomorrow, I hope you will allow my ship to remain at your dock until he comes.”

  “You are welcome, sir, as long as you remember that I will have no battles fought on my property, sir,” Jarrett said.

  “I don’t imagine I’ve anyone here to battle, have I, sir?” Warren asked James.

  James extended an arm to indicate the forest that stretched inland from his brother’s property. “Sir, you know there are bands this side of the Withlacoochee. But no Seminole will come here to seek battle, of this I am certain.”

  “So they do remain close!”

  “My home is neutral ground,” Jarrett said. “General Jesup is aware of that.”

  “Is Osceola?”

  “Indeed,” James supplied firmly.

  “Shall we all sit?” Tara suggested.

  The five of them sat in the wrought iron chairs around the porch table. James found himself between Teela and Warren, while his brother was between Teela and Tara. Tara was the perfect hostess, quickly pouring Warren lemonade, determined to stop explosive conversation before it continued any further.

  There was, of course, little to be said to Warren that did not become explosive.

  “It’s a pity, sir, that you weren’t just a day earlier,” Tara said. “We could have shown you what delightful parties we manage to have here.”

  “Yes, it’s a pity, I would have liked to have introduced Teela to young Harrington myself. I hope she realizes how fine a man he is.”

  “He is a very nice man,” Teela said coolly.

  There were baskets of fresh-baked rolls on the table, sliced ham in raisin gravy, early greens. Teela mechanically passed dishes as they came her way.

  She took very small servings herself and barely touched her plate. She sat stiffly and pretended to move her food about. Warren had cost her her appetite, James thought, and he was started to find himself wishing he could do battle with the man not just because he was a murdering bastard who had decimated many of his people, but because he could not bear the man having such power over his stepdaughter.

  “Well! I am glad to see that you’ve some sense in your head, daughter. I’d not have another disaster upon my hands as occurred in Charleston.”

  No one asked, but Warren was determined to continue.

  “Imagine this, Mrs. McKenzie. A father does his best for his child, not even his own blood, as it happens. I arrange a brilliant marriage for the girl, and in the middle of the ceremony, she simply says no, she will not honor, cherish, or obey, and she turns and walks back down the aisle! I cannot tell you the cost and the embarrassment of that day!”

  Teela didn’t flinch but kept her eyes steadily upon him. “I had said from the beginning that I would not marry Jeremy Lantreau. No one listened, except the good Episcopal minister there at the end of the aisle. I’d no wish to cause anyone pain or humiliation.”

  Warren forgot himself for a moment to wag a fork at her threateningly. “Girls wed where they are told by those older and wiser, missy. They obey their fathers, and that is that. Still, what happened is in the past. Young Harrington will make a better husband for you. He is not quite as financially stable on a personal level, but he comes from an excellent family and is an exceptional young officer, and will rise swiftly within the ranks. If there is anything remiss about the boy, it is his penchant for kindness, but it is a weakness he will overcome, fighting here in this swamp.”

  James lifted his lemonade glass and took a sip of the sweet-tart liquid. “If I’m not mistaken, Major, Harrington has served in Florida since the beginning of the present hostilities. Somewhat longer than you, sir.”

  “He is a fine young man!” Tara put in swiftly, offering James a frown and a pleading glance.

  “Tell me, Major,” Teela said, pointedly addressing the man by rank, “what does Mr. Harrington know of this?”

  “We have discussed the marriage. I believe he is willing.”

  Teela was silent for a moment, staring at her plate. It was obvious she hoped to avoid trouble with Warren, but it was clearly impossible for her to do so.

  “Sir!” she exploded suddenly. “I am not willing to marry a man I have met but once.”

  “You have just informed me that you find him a fine young fellow!” Warren said, irritated.

  “Sir, perhaps it would be advantageous to us all if you were to allow me to meet your prospects before bartering me at the marriage market.”

  “My girl, perhaps it would be far better if we were to discuss your future when we are alone.”

  “Indeed,” she replied coolly, her eyes lowering once again as she fought for control.

  Warren stabbed his ham. “When you really get to know young Harrington, you will realize what all here see—that there is no finer choice to be had! McKenzie, tell the girl. You know Harrington well.”

  “Sir,” Jarrett said, “we all agree that Harrington is exceptional.”

  “And you, sir,” Warren continued, looking at James. “Harrington deals fairly with you on all occasions. You have brought men and women to him. You have seen his excellent handling of your brutal and pathetic situation!”

  James paused, seething. Tara was still staring at him, hard, pleadingly.

  “As my brother has said, we all agree young John Harrington is an exceptional man.”

  He felt Teela’s eyes on him then, like green fire.

  “You see, Teela. He is a great man, which only demonstrates your pigheaded obstinancy.”

  “Major, I will choose my own husband.”

  “Girl, that is nonsense.”

  “It was your suggestion, sir, that we not discuss this here and now.”

  But Warren didn’t seem willing to quit, no matter how hostile their audience.

  “Think on it, Teela. If you were to wed Harrington, you’d be awaiting his return from each battle rather than mine
. Perhaps he would even be willing to have you wait out the war here at Cimarron, if Tara does not object, of course. He will be close enough.” Warren turned to James again. “Because the Seminoles are out there. The very men who signed papers in March, who agreed to go west. They are out there, attacking whites, stealing cattle, creating havoc!”

  James nearly bent his silver fork in half. He set it down, staring at Warren. “Major, there are points which have eluded you, so it seems. Perhaps you have been so busily engaged in the killing that you are not aware of certain sentiments. The truce was ridiculed by whites furious over the Negro situation. Therefore, on your side, it could not be kept. Now as there is no one single ruler among my people—”

  “There was a fair election. Micanopy—”

  “Aye, Micanopy is a solid hereditary chief, and he is respected by many. But you can hold all the fair elections you choose, and it will not negate the fact that each band is separate. Many times the chiefs or micos group together for a common good and defense, but you will never sign a truce with every band. Never. And there are many you will be fighting for a very long time.”

  “Treacherous liars, all.”

  “Michael Warren!” Teela gasped.

  He wagged a finger at her. “You will obey me and speak when you are spoken to, young lady, or pay the price!” he threatened before turning back to James, his mouth open to speak again.

  “Sir! We all seek not to have war at this table where you and I are guests,” Teela said, stiffly polite.

  Warren did not get a chance to respond as James cut in.

  “If my people have learned treachery,” James informed him with a low, level tone, “they have learned it from the whites who have stolen their land and way of life in every way imaginable. If they learn to commit atrocities, sir, they learn from damned good teachers. And, no man has behaved more heinously in warfare, Major, than you have yourself.”

  Warren stood up furiously, nearly taking the tablecloth with him.

  “We should settle this here and now, Running Bear.”