Captive

by Heather Graham

  He didn’t let her go. He stayed with her, holding her.

  Then, to her amazement, he was suddenly swearing. His weight shifted from hers; he was up, slipping into his breeches and boots.

  As she lay dumbfounded, he exited the room into the hallway.

  Shaking, Teela sat up. Furious with him, with herself, she rose and hurried to the tub, where the water was now startlingly cool. She scooped handfuls to her face, allowed it run down the length of her, cooled herself again. She found her towel, rubbed furiously, and wrapped it about herself, talking aloud in a hushed and miserable whisper.

  “Damn him. Damn him. Damn him! It has nothing to do with being savage, he is just rude and cruel. I hate him. I’ll have nothing else to do with him, I won’t, I won’t!”

  She drew a chemise and pantalettes from a drawer within the wardrobe, wrenched the first over her head and stumbled into the second, then tried to tighten the ties. She stood in front of the swivel mirror, drying her hair with her towel, brushing it through with her fingers. Time slipped away; her hair began to dry. She grabbed up her brush and gave it a furious hundred strokes, then a hundred more. Her emotions continued to plummet and spiral. She felt numb one moment, ready to cry the next. She was not going to do so. She was going to dress and walk downstairs, and the next time he appeared anywhere near her …

  The door opened and closed softly. She spun around at the sound.

  He was back. He appeared almost ridiculously civilized now, wearing a clean white shirt along with his brown breeches and boots. His black hair was unqueued, brushed and sleek. Standing there, he was tall and striking, dignified, somber and handsome, and she was alarmed by the anguish that raced through her at the sight of him.

  “I don’t care how ‘savage’ you’re feeling. If you enter my room again, you had best knock first!”

  He didn’t respond for a moment. Then he told her quietly, “I told my brother that you will not be down.”

  “Well, you have no right to speak for me. I will be going down.”

  “No, I think not,” he said, striding toward her. He smiled, and she realized that she was holding her brush in a threatening manner.

  He reached for it, taking it from her hand. “When you are here, near me, involved in this wretched war, I am determined that I must speak for you.”

  “I will be going down.”

  “Not tonight.”

  “You will not tell me what to do. You walk in here like the king of the forest. You simply take what you wish—”

  “I was very, very hungry,” he said softly.

  Tears stung her eyes. “You simply take what you wish,” she continued, “then walk away. You—”

  “I came here,” he interrupted, “and barely remembered the one who is the most important person in my life, my daughter. I barely remembered her because of you.”

  “You might have said—something.”

  “Damn you, I came to you first.”

  “You came to me to find out who was in the house.”

  “I came to you first,” he repeated tensely.

  Teela fell silent, watching him. He stood so close to her. Every breath she took seemed filled with him. The air seemed charged as if with lightning.

  “I will be gone when you awaken. But until then I will tell you again to go home, to turn away from all of this, to run away from me. That’s exactly what I want you to do. I just want you to do it tomorrow. After tonight.”

  “Go away now!” she whispered vehemently.

  But again he shook his head. And she gasped a desperate little sound, throwing her arms around him. He caught her, held her very tight. He kissed her hungrily, slowly, sensually. He ran his fingers through her hair, down her back, over her buttocks, holding her tighter and tighter against him. At last he lifted her and carried her until she felt that she was falling down into clouds. Her chemise and pantalettes were luxuriously stripped away; his own clothing was more quickly shed. His every touch was erotic, unbearably so, tenderly so. A stoke here against her flesh, the intimate brush of his lips there, the caress of his palm, and again the feel of his lips, the hot, liquid fire of the tip of his tongue …

  Toward dawn he held her. She savored the feel of being where she was. She didn’t want to sleep; she wanted to grasp tightly to every last moment. But exhaustion seemed to overwhelm her.

  She dozed, then heard his voice, fierce and determined. “I will not love you, Teela, will not, cannot! Damn you, you will go home, away from here. You must.”

  Her eyes opened, drowsy, upon his. His eyes were burning a furious blue. “Get out of this life!” he insisted angrily. But his lips ground down upon hers.

  “Go to hell!” she mumbled against his kiss.

  He made love to her again.

  But in the morning, as he had warned her, he was gone.

  Chapter 13

  The days and weeks passed by.

  At first Teela feared that any moment Michael Warren would appear, demanding she follow him somewhere. But it seemed that he had now determined, through the help and kindness of John Harrington, that she intended to be a dutiful daughter in the matter of marriage. Teela felt terribly guilty about John. She wondered frequently what might have happened had she met him under different circumstances, away from here.

  Before she had met James.

  She heard nothing from her stepfather, and gradually she began to relax. There was no hardship to living at Cimarron, and she was grateful to be living with Tara and Jarrett, for summer was a tense time in Florida. As the heat increased, so did the fear. It was multiplied by the fact that so many soldiers fell prey to disease in the summer. The bugs were so numerous; bites became infected. Men were down. Teela knew this because the young captain, Tyler Argosy, remained assigned to the Tampa area, and when he could, he took the river down to Cimarron. At first Jarrett had tried to keep her from hearing any of the military discussions. He and Tyler had retired to his library each time the captain arrived. But Jarrett McKenzie was accustomed to having his wife with him on most occasions, and when Teela confronted him, begging to be allowed to know what was going on as well, Tara took her side, quietly asserting that if Teela had survived life with Michael Warren, she was strong enough to deal with the brutality of any situation. Jarrett McKenzie had stared at her a long while, and she had felt a strange stirring in her heart—in a way, he was so like his younger brother. Sometimes she still thought that he harbored an angry disapproval of her; then at others she thought that he understood. His attitude toward her was often that of a stern parent, but his actions and words were always softened by those of his wife. Upon occasion, late at night, if they sat together on the porch and watched the beauty of the moon rising over the river, his words would be gentle, and she would realize that the silken ties of affection linking her to Cimarron, Tara, the children, and Jarrett himself were just as equally returned. He didn’t dislike her; he feared for her, and for James. But he believed that his brother saw the realities of life while she did not. For his brother’s sake and perhaps for her own, he would protect her as he would his own family.

  Thanks to Tara, though, she was welcomed into the library for sherry and brandy—and the truth of the situation. The soldiers were often in very sad shape. For the Seminoles life was even harder. But summer, which brought so much sickness to the whites, was a time of gathering for the Indians. They would be desperately storing food supplies from now through the fall before the cold came. Winters could be hard. The soldiers destroyed whatever crops they could find. The Indians raided white farms, plantations, and settlements whenever they could. It was a tug-of-war. A time of tension, like the hot, brooding time that seemed to press down before a storm. And General Jesup wanted a storm. He plotted and planned and strategized as the soldiers, and the Indians, waited through the long, hot days of summer.

  On the days when Tyler came to dinner, Teela came to the library and listened.

  During too many nights she waited.

  But James
did not reappear in her balcony doorway, and she heard nothing about his movements.

  Like everyone else, Teela grew weary of the constant heat, and the wondering, the waiting, and the fear.

  Of course, most other whites lived with the fear of Indian attack. Teela lived with fear for James.

  Occasionally, she rode with Tara or Jarrett to Robert Trent’s plantation, not far from Cimarron. She liked Robert very much, and on one particularly still and sullen day, she entreated Jeeves to escort her over on her own. She spent the day with the pleasant, handsome young man, who entertained her lavishly with stories about pirates and funny tales about explorers. On a more serious note, he dragged down books and maps and told her about the earliest tribes that had lived in the territory, about their demise. He showed her where the Upper and Lower Creeks have lived, how they had journeyed south. He told her where the different bands had originally settled, the Alachuas, the Tallahassees, the Mikasukees, and more. She stayed very late and found herself Robert’s guest for the night.

  Robert’s house, though much smaller than Cimarron, boasted beautiful balconies as well. She was startled in the morning to slip out onto her own and witness a strange sight. Robert, in breeches only, stood by the rail outside his own room. He didn’t see Teela, for his gaze was fixed on the edge of trees that bordered his property before disappearing into the brush.

  Teela quickly followed his gaze.

  The Indian girl stood so still that Teela nearly missed her. She wore beige doeskin and no jewelry. Her pitch black hair hung freely down her back. Her face was soft copper in color, her eyes as coal as her hair. Her features were slim and stunning. She brought her fingers to her lips, touched them briefly, and turned. Amazed, Teela stared at Robert again. For a moment he looked toward the brush into which the girl had disappeared. Then he seemed to start, aware that Teela was watching him. He stiffened.

  “Miss Warren. How did you sleep?”

  “Fine, thank you. Robert, who was that?”

  “No one.”

  “Robert, the girl—”

  “I tell you, no one.”

  She fell silent. “As you well know,” she said very softly, “I would certainly understand—”

  “Teela!” he insisted, “you saw no one.” Then he amended his words, a bleak touch of misery in his words. “This is different,” he said very quickly. “James McKenzie is a man who can make his own rules. Your stepfather is a butcher, but he will not slit your throat, or kill you for your actions, whether he knows or only suspects exactly what you have done. The Seminole women have not fallen prey to either the white settlers or the white soldiers. They do not betray their men. If it was even suspected that Tamara came here, she might well be murdered by her own kin, and I and my house would be burned to the ground. Do you understand?”

  “I saw no one,” Teela said quietly, and she returned to her room, leaving him the privacy of his balcony. She didn’t speak of what she had witnessed again.

  She thought about it often, though.

  Jeeves returned for her that afternoon. Early that evening, with Jennifer helping her, Teela bathed the baby while Tara was supervising in the smokehouse. She had the baby smiling and cooing and Jennifer giggling when Tara returned to the room, and she then realized that Tara was staring at her. Once Ian was put down for a nap and Jennifer had gone to her own room, Teela excused herself to change for dinner, but Tara stopped her.

  “Did you enjoy Robert’s house?”

  “Of course. He is a fascinating man.”

  Tara smiled. “Yes, he is. He knows so very much. He is interested in everything around him. He is a very good man.”

  Teela nodded, wondering where this was leading.

  Tara hesitated. “You stayed very late. We were almost hoping …”

  “Hoping what?” Teela inquired.

  Tara blushed slightly. “That you … that you two were simply enjoying each other so much that… that that is why you stayed,” Tara finished a little lamely.

  Teela lightly bit her lower Up, looking down. She shook her head, and her voice was husky when she spoke. “Tara, is it not bad enough that I am supposedly engaged to one man, while I …”

  “Am sleeping with another?” Tara inquired.

  “Well,” Teela said, her voice with a slight edge, “I am not exactly sleeping with anyone.” It had been so long now since she had seen James. It was painful. More painful because she felt abandoned, no matter that there was a war on.

  And that he as often as not considered her the enemy.

  Tara came over to her and set her arms around her shoulders. “You are misunderstanding me. I have no intention of judging you. Indeed, you have come here full of courage, and I was all but dragged, and came only because I ran away from a greater horror.”

  Teela arched a brow to her. Tara smiled. “It is a very long story, but I was hiding in New Orleans and came upon Jarrett and Robert. Jarrett actually married me just because it was necessary to get me out of New Orleans.”

  “I don’t believe it! He adores you!”

  “I have been exceptionally lucky and blessed in that,” Tara agreed with a wry smile, “yet it did not start out so. Anyway, I’m telling you this because Robert was a very good friend to me at the time—so good, in fact, that for a while Jarrett was irritated, and so, since I know Robert, and his kindnesses, I have to admit that I was hoping that something might come to pass between the two of you.”

  Staring at her, Teela shook her head. “No,” she said very softly. “As he is to you, he is a friend to me.”

  “And you remain in love with my brother-in-law,” Tara said sadly. She walked across the room to stare out the window.

  “I don’t—I don’t know that I’m in love with him,” Teela lied, feeling the need for a little pride at the moment. “I am involved. I cannot change what … what I do feel,” she added a bit stiffly.

  “I love James, and I understand your feelings,” Tara said softly. “But he cannot change what he is. You cannot understand the depths of his grief for Naomi and his child. You aren’t a part of his world. You are a ward of Michael Warren. Dear God, Teela, I cannot see a happy ending in this for you, do you understand?”

  “I am not asking anything of James McKenzie.”

  “You are waiting for him,” Tara said. “And none of us knows if or when he will come.”

  Teela felt her hands trembling and folded them together to hide the fact. She lowered her head, not meeting Tara’s eyes.

  “Perhaps I should leave.”

  “Oh, dear Lord! I didn’t mean that!” Tara said, horrified. “We want you here, truly. It’s been wonderful to have you. Jennifer loves you, the baby loves you—I love you!”

  Teela looked up, really frightened because tears were stinging her eyes. She didn’t want to shed them; she could wind up in a pool of them.

  “I love you all, too. Very much. And I’m so very grateful.”

  Tara walked back across the room and hugged her. “I didn’t speak to hurt you, I hope you understand that. And I know that James is fiercely attracted to you. It’s just that—oh, God, you must see, it’s such an awful situation!”

  Teela nodded, pulling away from Tara, looking at the other woman.

  “We’d best get dressed for dinner,” Tara said.

  Teela started out of the room. She was at the door when Tara called her back.

  “Teela?”

  “Yes?”

  “Obsessively attracted,” she repeated. “I think, in fact, he’d be ready to douse me in the river if he’d any idea I was encouraging you to look elsewhere.”

  “He’s suggested that I marry another man,” Teela said.

  “In a way, he probably means it. He wants you to live, to be safe. To be out of this. Then again, he is fiercely possessive. It surely caused him great pain to walk away, yet he knew he must. I wonder if he could do so again.”

  “I wonder, too,” Teela said softly, and she left Tara, hurrying to her room to dress for d
inner.

  Later, she and Tara sat with Jarrett for supper downstairs at the big, polished table in the dining room. Conversation was casual, and they all kept it away from the subject of the war. Jarrett asked her about her stay with Robert, his dark eyes enigmatic. She told him that Robert was very well, and that she’d enjoyed her stay.

  It was then that the messenger arrived.

  Jeeves came into the dining room and spoke softly and politely with Jarrett. Jarrett excused himself, leaving his wife and Teela to stare at each other. Then Tara leapt up and Teela followed her, racing out to the open breezeway doors to see that a Seminole of indeterminate age with wizened dark features and gray-streaked long black hair sat atop a thin horse, waiting as Jarrett read a letter.

  “What is it?” Tara asked tensely.

  Jarrett shook his head. “It is nothing. Everything is well.” He switched to the Indian’s language then. When the man replied, his voice deep and quiet, Teela felt his dark eyes on her. He didn’t seem to judge, but he did appraise, as if he was going to give an accounting of her to someone at a later time.

  She didn’t understand a word of the conversation, but she was certain that Jarrett was offering the Indian some kind of hospitality. The man accepted leather saddlebags brought out by Jeeves. He seemed to thank Jarrett for the goods in the bags, but refuse to accept anything more. He could not stay. He raised a hand to Jarrett, then turned his scrawny nag about to head back into the wilderness.

  “Who was that?” Teela asked anxiously.