“As long as you don’t know, I’m safe,” she answered, elated by his lighthearted mood.
“But I do know,” he said, grasping her arm more firmly as they began to mount a long series of steps. “You won’t be happy until you’ve made me your slave.”
“The idea of your unquestioning obedience to my commands is very appealing.”
“Yet as soon as you have me under your control, you won’t want me any longer. You’ll start to complain about me and you’ll long for some strong, ruthless brute to sweep you into his arms and carry you off.”
“I won’t!” Summer said emphatically. “That’s exactly what did happen to me, and I can tell you that it’s very uncomfortable. I think I would greatly admire a compliant husband who would pamper me and give me everything I wished for, one who would spend all his time trying to think of things to do to please me.”
“I’ll give you everything you want and I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make you happy,"—Summer’s bones began to melt—"but I’ll be damned if I’ll lie down for you to walk on.” Summer’s bones stopped melting. “That doesn’t sound like something I’d enjoy very much.”
“Neither is being captured, seduced, mauled by Spanish wolves, and then hauled off to a remote island,” Summer shot back, but her barbs fell wide of the mark.
“It beats sitting home sewing samplers and going to bed early,” Brent scoffed.
“I never did any such thing,” Summer professed, horrified by such a fate.
“But you went to bed alone.”
“I most certainly did.”
“That couldn’t have been much fun,” he said, putting an arm around her waist.
“Speak for yourself,” she said trying to remove his arm because it was brazenly taking advantage of its position close to her breast. “You never asked me how I felt.”
“Because you kept saying one thing and doing another,” Brent taunted. “I liked your actions much better than your words.” Summer was glad that he could not see her blush in the fading light.
“I’d prefer to talk of something else,” she declared.
“I don’t want to talk at all,” Brent whispered. He buried his face in her flowing hair. “We could go wandering among the terraces and inspect the plants quite carefully.”
“You wouldn’t let me just a moment ago,” Summer pointed out, caught between a frown and a laugh. “Besides, it’s so dark I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face.”
“We won’t need to see.”
“I’m getting hungry,” she said, trying a different tack. “I won’t be able to stand up if I don’t get something to eat.”
“I can order a picnic basket,” Brent offered hopefully.
“You are completely without scruples.” Summer smiled in spite of her determination to be stern. “I’m convinced you would disgrace me right in the middle of this path if I would let you.”
“I’ll send for blankets and a pillow.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” she said, unable to keep her voice steady. “I may not have much influence over your actions, but I will not be abused in public while the servants watch.”
“They might learn something.”
“Not from me. Now stop this nonsense and take me up to the house. I’m dying to see it.”
“Maybe I should show you around.” Brent’s eyes were alight with mischief. “It might help to get your mind off my body. You can’t begin to know how tiresome it is to be continually fighting off your advances.”
Summer stooped to pick up a large rock; Brent grabbed her hands when he realized she had every intention of hitting him with it. But Summer was laughing so hard it was doubtful that she could have done more than drop it on her own toes.
“I’m going to have to be on my guard,” he said. “My reputation would never recover if I were knocked senseless by a mere girl.”
“It would give me infinite pleasure to be able to knock you senseless.”
“And you accuse me of abusing my power.”
“You do. I only wish I had some power to abuse.”
“You’ve got plenty. Every time you smile, thunder rolls and the earth quakes. You can do more damage with those eyes than I can with my sword.”
“That’s nice of you to say, even if it isn’t true,” Summer replied meekly. “It’s flattering to be noticed.”
“Noticed!” Brent shook her by the shoulders. “Men fall all over themselves just to dance with you, and you say it’s flattering to have people notice you. I suppose you are aware that Gonsalvo noticed you?”
“I don’t consider that a compliment.”
“You might not have wanted his attention, but Gonsalvo is famous for his high standards.”
“Like you?”
“Not at all like me. Everybody knows I like women, period!”
“I want to forget about Gonsalvo. Tell me about the house.” They had reached the final terrace and Summer now had a full view of the large dwelling.
“And they say men are changeable,” Brent grumbled.
Chapter 28
“Here come Juanita and Pedro,” said Brent as two middleaged servants hurried out of the house to meet them. “Since I’m alone in the world, they’ve made it their task to take care of me. Juanita likes to spoil me,” he confided with a wink.
Along with every other woman who sets eyes on you, Summer thought.
“Señor Douglas, you’ve come at last.” Pedro hailed them, his Spanish accent evident. “We had just about given you up.”
“Given you up? How did you know I was coming?”
“No one told us you would be bringing a guest.” Juanita was an incredibly fat woman with swaying flesh and limitless goodwill.
“This is Summer McConnel.” Summer noticed that Brent hesitated over her name; it was the first sign of discomfiture she had ever noticed in him.
“It will be nice to have someone to pet and spoil,” Juanita declared as she gazed admiringly at the beautiful young woman she had just met.
“Don’t go wasting any of your special treatment on her,” Brent commanded. “There must be at least a dozen ways you haven’t found to spoil me.”
Juanita reprimanded him. “Now you behave yourself and stop giving the señorita a bad impression of me. I won’t have you making free with my reputation.”
“Pedro would cut me up and throw the pieces away.” Brent chuckled.
“I’m not saying he wouldn’t want to.” Juanita regarded her husband fondly. “But facts are facts, and nobody would have a chance against such a bull as you.”
“You know you shouldn’t be so free with your tongue,” Pedro chided. “It’s not respectful.”
“The captain doesn’t mind,” Juanita countered. “Besides, I don’t think he’s entirely respectable himself.”
“You deserve her,” Summer said, nearly choking. “I’ve finally found someone who’s not afraid to give back what you dish out.”
“Afraid of the captain?” a bewildered Juanita inquired. “Why’s he’s the kindest man in all of New Spain.”
“Then he’s got a double,” Summer stated coolly.
“Summer is not afraid of me either,” Brent said. “She also thinks that my manners could use some correcting.”
“I’m sure we all could use some improvement, but I never knew much good to come from picking out other people’s faults,” Juanita replied, clearly taking exception to Summer’s criticism of Brent.
“If we don’t hurry, your dinner will be ruined.” Pedro wanted to change the subject.
“How could you possibly have anything ready?”
“We started the ovens as soon as the yacht was sighted. I have meat on the spits and girls in the gardens picking vegetables. Dinner will be served by the time you finish dressing.”
“Your trunks should be in your room by now, señorita,” said Juanita. “I’ll send my oldest daughter to help. She’s a sensible girl. You just tell her what you want, and she’ll see to everything.�
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“I guess I will have to wait until tomorrow to see the house.” Summer stepped into the wide, cool hall.
“You’ll have the whole morning to yourself,” Brent responded. “I have to meet with my overseer, or he will never forgive me.”
“He’s been counting the days since you left,” Pedro assured him.
“I see we shall be ruled by our servants. I have only one request to make,” said Brent, stemming Juanita’s retort. “I want to eat on the terrace. Summer has never had dinner under a tropical moon.”
“All will be ready when you come down,” Pedro assured them. “Now if there is nothing else …”
“Come, before they chase us upstairs,” Brent said to Summer. “I’ll show you to your room. I have no doubt the faithful Ana is already pacing the floor. And unless a kind providence has at last taken mercy on me and gathered him to his reward, which I hope is swift and terrible, the awful Miguel is awaiting me just as impatiently.”
“You know you wouldn’t have anyone else,” said Pedro.
“Offer me anything this side of a monkey and see if I don’t take it,” Brent complained as he mounted the stairs. Summer was caught between amazement and a bubble of laughter. She had never seen Brent like this, but she liked the effect the plantation had on him; she hoped they would never leave.
Summer’s trunks had been unpacked, fresh undergarments were laid out, and Ana was standing ready to iron the wrinkles from the dress Summer would choose to wear for the evening. A huge copper bath held hot water, a maid waited to help her out of her clothes, and a second maid stood by to bathe her. Summer wasn’t used to so many servants, but she gave herself entirely into their hands. It was an unheard of luxury, and she loved every single minute.
She was undressed and led to a scented bath that gave off an intoxicating tropical bouquet. It was so relaxing she was tempted to go to sleep, but busy hands would not leave her alone and she was soon drawn from the water, engulfed in huge towels, and patted dry. Then one of the maids wrapped her in a luxurious robe, and she chose a gown sewn with tiny pearls for the evening. While it was being readied, the maids helped her into a light petticoat and seated her at the dressing table. Summer wanted only the slightest touch of makeup, but dressing her hair took time. She wore it in a knot on top of her head, ringlets cascading down at the back, and by the time this was done, she had decided against powdering it. Her dress, a rose-red silk with a deep bodice and tiny puff sleeves worn off the shoulder, was now ready. The sleeves and hem were niched and an undertrimming of white lace decorated the hem, sleeves, and neckline. From among the remnants of her mother’s jewels, those that had escaped her father’s depredations, Summer chose a strand of pearls and small ruby earrings.
“The señorita is so beautiful,” Ana said, using the very words Summer hoped to hear from Brent’s lips. “It is a shame you do not wish to powder your hair.”
Summer much preferred her own rich, russet brown coloring. “There isn’t time now,” she stated firmly.
“No. Everything would be spoiled,” Ana agreed, prodded into activity by the thought of the dinner her mother was at this very moment bringing to a peak of perfection. “I will take you to the rose salon,” she added.
“Good heavens, and I nearly chose the jonquil muslin.” Summer laughed. “Thank goodness I decided on the silk.”
“I would have told you.”
“I certainly hope so. I would have stuck out like a goose among chickens.”
Ana laughed when the lovely señorita compared herself to a goose.
The salon was empty when she threw open the double doors, and Summer felt a pang of disappointment. She knew it was vanity to long for Brent’s admiration, and she scolded herself for being so vain as to pride herself on her looks and lineage. Well not lineage, she thought grimly.
Then she pushed that unpleasant thought from her mind. Tonight was going to be wonderful, it had to be. She and Brent would be even more alone than they had been on the ship. She tingled with excitement, and began to pace the room, unaware that her anxiety was giving her stride a very unladylike swing.
So much rested on this night. She knew Brent loved her, but did he know it? He was so stubborn he couldn’t even see what was right before him; surely during the coming days and nights he must realize that he loved her, and that she had to become his wife.
Summer sagged against a table, and released an audible groan. What was she thinking about? She was already someone else’s wife. That brutal fact she would have given anything in the world to be able to forget. It was so unfair, so cruel of life to show her Brent with one hand and deny him with the other. But it would do her no good to dwell on that. Something must be done, a way must be found out of her difficulties; but let that wait for tomorrow and sensible daylight. Tonight was hers, and she was determined that nothing would spoil it for her.
“I thought I heard someone in here,” Brent said, entering through the open French doors, but he suddenly came to a stop and a low whistle escaped him. “You certainly made good use of your time.” He recovered enough to offer her the glass of wine he held in his hand. “You take this. I need something stronger.” He poured himself a brandy.
“Brent Douglas! If you dare tell me you can’t sit down to dinner with me without getting drunk first I’ll, I’ll…”
“You’re putting the wrong words into my mouth again,” he said, taking a large swallow of his brandy.
“A truly chivalrous man would be paying me extravagant compliments instead of swallowing his brandy like water and looking at me as if I were some serving wench he was about to roll in the hay.”
“Maybe that’s because I can’t think of anything except taking you straight to bed.” Brent took another sip of brandy.
“Probably,” Summer agreed. “You never seem to have anything on your mind except your ship or taking off my clothes as quickly as possible.”
“Now there’s a subject I would like to discuss.”
“Your ship?” she asked archly.
“No, she-devil, talking off your clothes.”
“After I spent an hour putting them on, the least you could do is admire me.”
“I admire you without your clothes, too.”
Summer sat down on one of the sofas.
“I’m going to pretend that I’ve just come down. I’m about to have a delicious dinner under a tropical moon. The softest of breezes is blowing, and I’m with a handsome man, even if he is a monster of selfishness who knows how to make himself very pleasing to a woman. I would like to enjoy the evening, to pretend that I am young and beautiful and that life is filled with happiness and excitement.”
“That ought to be easy.”
“I want to be told that I’m beautiful,” Summer continued, ignoring him, “that my skin is like velvet, my eyes are like stars, and that men would die just for the chance to sit where you are now.”
“They would.”
“Will you stop interrupting and listen,” she said, exasperated. “I want to walk in the moonlight, dance under the stars. I want to forget that there is anything or anybody in the world other than the two of us. I want you to tell me any man would be lucky to have me for his wife and that I’m going to meet some wonderfully handsome man, be gloriously happy, and have rooms full of children.”
“I don’t think I should let you have any more wine.” Brent removed the glass from her hand. “A little more and you’ll be discussing bridal gowns and the kind of wedding you want.” That unfortunate remark burst Summer’s bubble of happiness.
“You don’t have to be so cruel,” she said, losing her animation and heaving a tremulous sigh. “I know it’s a futile dream, but I never had a chance to speculate on my future before I found myself in this impossible tangle. My problems are so insurmountable I can’t bear to think of them. Instead, I make up fantasies about how I wish things had been. I know it’s silly and childish, but they give me a few moments of happiness.”
“I know how you fe
el.” The sympathy in Brent’s voice surprised her. “Things never work out the way we want, not even when they come out right in the end.”
“Why?”
“Maybe that makes us appreciate our happiness more when we do get it, maybe that makes us stronger people. I really don’t know, but there’s no use being sorry for yourself or letting self-pity get in the way of doing something about your situation. Nothing is ever so bad it can’t improve if you work at it.”
“That sounds like a page from a Scottish book of proverbs.” Summer sniffed in disgust.
“I promise I won’t preach anymore tonight.” He brought Summer to her feet.
“And I promise not to become maudlin again.” She walked toward the terrace. “It seems I’m always starting conversations I don’t want to finish.”
“That’s because you let your worries get the best of you.”
“And you let your lusts get the best of you.”
“It’s the best of you my lusts want,” Brent countered.
“Devil!” she retorted, but her good humor was restored. “Let’s eat before I give up on you completely and join a convent.”
“That would be an awful waste of one of Nature’s most perfect creations.”
“You know, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, even if I do owe the compliment to your lust,” Summer said as she stepped out onto the terrace.
“I can’t see you or be near you without desiring you. And don’t tell me I should love you for your mind. No mind or personality can make up for a body like a stick or a face like a shrunken skull.”
“I shouldn’t think it could.” Summer giggled in spite of herself.
“If you were the most brilliant woman in the world, that wouldn’t provoke the surge of desire I get just from touching your hand or kissing your lips. The smell of your perfume in my nostrils makes my senses ache.”
“I doubt Juanita will think that sufficient excuse for letting her food get cold,” Summer remarked, marveling at the number of dishes set out before her.
“Now who’s the devil? You know you wouldn’t like me nearly so much if I were as cold as that man Brinklow.”
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