by Connie Mason
Kateena came to an abrupt halt. “Are you in trouble, mistress?”
“My sister is not in trouble,” Rayford said smoothly. “Wait for her at the King’s Arms. I’ll bring her to you in a little while. There’s a matter of some importance I need to discuss with her.”
“Don’t leave, Kateena,” Sophia cried. “I have nothing to say to my stepbrother.”
“If you value your husband’s life, you’ll send your maid on her way,” Rayford hissed in her ear.
Sophia weighed Rayford’s threat against the consequences of complying with his wishes. After careful thought, she didn’t believe Rayford had the power to hurt Chris.
“Find help, Kateena! Go! My stepbrother and Sir Oscar mean me harm.”
Kateena turned and fled, the howling wind whipping her skirts about her legs.
“Damn you!” Rayford hissed. “I warned you, but you refused to listen. Bring five hundred pounds to me at the King’s Arms in one week or else your husband will suffer the consequences.”
The wind pulled at Sophia’s skirts, tugged at her bonnet, drowned out the sound of Rayford’s voice. Above the conflict of wind and rain came the sound of pounding footsteps and voices raised in alarm.
“Dammit, the maid brought help,” Rigby spat. “Let’s get out of here. We’ll deal with your sister another time.” Bracing themselves against the wind, they took off.
“Are you all right, mistress?” Kateena asked when she reached Sophia. “They didn’t hurt you, did they?”
“I’m fine, Kateena. Thank you for bringing help.” She smiled at her rescuers and thanked them profusely. She even produced a few coins to give them.
“You were right about that storm, Kateena,” Sophia said. “It’s worse than I expected. We should return home immediately.”
“It’s too late,” Kateena cried above the wailing wind. “We’d be blown off the road. We need to seek shelter immediately.”
“No,” Sophia protested. “If I don’t return, Chris will worry. The storm’s not too bad yet—I can make it.”
Her bonnet was blown off her head; the pins were torn from her hair, whipping it around her face.
“The carriage is too light, it will be blown off the road,” Kateena persisted.
“I’ll leave the carriage behind and ride the horse home.”
Kateena bit her bottom lip, torn between duty to her mistress and fear of the storm. “I’ve lived here longer than you, mistress; listen to me, please.”
“If I start out now, I can arrive home before the worst of it.” Bent against the pull of the wind, Sophia stumbled toward the King’s Arms, where she had left the horse and carriage in charge of the stable boy. Kateena ran to catch up with her.
“Mistress, please—”
“Kateena, if you’re worried, I suggest you see to your parents. Take them to a safe place to wait out the storm.”
“I couldn’t—”
“I insist. Go, Kateena. I can make better time without you. I’ve ridden horses all my life—can you say the same?”
Kateena shook her head.
“There you have it. Don’t return to Sunset Hill until the storm passes.”
Kateena looked as if she wanted to protest, but in the end Sophia’s logic won out. Kateena turned and headed toward her parents’ humble shack behind the fishmonger’s shop.
Sophia reached the King’s Arms just as a flash of lightning streaked across the sky. But she let neither the lightning nor the ominous green and purple sky stop her.
It took a great deal of persuasion to get the stable boy to lend her a saddle and place it on the carriage horse. His warnings about a hurricane echoed Kateena’s, but Sophia refused to listen.
As Sophia rode away from the inn, she noted that the streets were deserted now and shopkeepers were boarding up their shops. Still not terribly worried, Sophia urged her reluctant horse through the stinging rain. Hampered by the muddy road and buffeted by the wind, she found the going slow. But the need to be with Chris during this time of danger kept her focused on her goal to reach Sunset Hill.
Halfway between Kingston and Sunset Hill, a swaying palm tree fell in her path. The horse shied, skittered, but through sheer will Sophia guided the frightened animal around the obstacle.
When the wind drove slashing rain into a sideways pattern and lightning flashed across the purple sky, Sophia experienced real panic. She could no longer see the road, which had begun to flood, couldn’t even tell if she was going in the right direction. Her mount began to pull against the reins, shaking his head and trying to break away and flee into the jungle.
When the trees around her were uprooted, Sophia realized she had made a terrible mistake, one that could cost her her life. Another flash of lightning and crack of thunder caused her horse to rear. She lost the reins and hung on for dear life as the frightened animal bolted toward the mountains. Tree branches whipped across her face and tore at her skirt as her mount fled farther and faster, completely out of control.
A tree fell in the horse’s path. The animal skidded to a halt, bucking wildly. Sophia went flying, landing in the mud. Her head hit a rock, and she knew no more. The horse, free of its rider, leaped over the fallen tree and galloped off.
Chris knew a hurricane was coming. He smelled it in the air, saw it in the darkening sky. He’d seen too many of them in his years at sea not to recognize the signs. Thankful that most of the cane had been harvested and turned into molasses and rum, Chris set his men to work piling the kegs of rum and molasses inside the brick distillery.
They worked against time as the wind howled and the trees bent double from the terrifying force of it. They worked steadily throughout the day, until the last keg was safely stowed inside the building. Then the workers scattered to see to their families. Chris, Chuba and Casper made their way to the house through slashing rain and winds so strong that Chris and Chuba had to hang on to Casper to keep him from flying away.
During the madness of saving the fruits of their labor, Chris still found time to worry about Sophia. He knew she had never experienced anything like a hurricane and hoped Kateena had been able to quiet any fears his wife might have.
When they reached the house, most of the windows had already been boarded up by the house servants. Chandra met him at the door, wringing her hands, her dark face scrunched up into a worried frown.
Chris’s heart sank. He knew without being told that Sophia was the reason for the cook’s anxiety. “What is it, Chandra? Is Sophia upset over the storm?”
“She ain’t here, Captain,” Chandra wailed. “The mistress drove the carriage to Kingston today and took Kateena with her. She hasn’t returned, and I’m worried sick about her.”
“She’s gone?” The color drained from Chris’s face. The force of the wind drove him inside. Calming his rising panic, he closed the door with Chuba’s help and forced himself to think rationally.
“Sophia and Kateena wouldn’t start back to Sunset Hill in threatening weather. I’m sure they’re fine, Chandra. Kateena has lived in Jamaica long enough to know how dangerous a hurricane can be. They probably sought shelter at the King’s Arms.”
Despite his words, Chris’s fears escalated. Sophia was wild and unpredictable. Kateena wouldn’t be able to stop her from returning home if her mind was set on it. Sophia had proven her reckless nature time and again, but would she risk injury or death to return home?
“I’m going to ride to Kingston,” Chris announced. “I won’t be satisfied until I know Sophia is safe.”
“I’m going with you,” Casper chimed in.
“You’re going to stay here where it’s safe,” Chris ordered sternly.
“Look outside, Captain,” Chuba ventured. “The trees are bent double; some have been uprooted. You don’t stand a chance of reaching Kingston. Wait until the hurricane passes.”
Chris began to pace. “That could take hours. My gut tells me that Sophia needs me.”
That feeling remained with Chris the rest of the d
ay as the wind howled like a banshee and bullet-like pellets of rain pelted the window panes. He paced. He tried to eat. He cursed Sophia’s recklessness. She shouldn’t have left the house in threatening weather. True, Sophia had no idea what a hurricane looked like or the damage it could do, but common sense should have told her something was amiss when she saw the ominous sky.
Sometime during the long night a tree came crashing down onto a section of the veranda. Chris wasn’t overly worried about his workers, for he knew they and their families would seek shelter in the sturdy brick distillery. Only Chuba and Chandra remained with him in the manor house—and Casper, of course, who had refused to leave Chris’s side.
Toward dawn, the wind and rain began to subside, indicating that the hurricane had passed over the island, leaving mass destruction in its wake. Chris ventured outside to assess the damage. Several palm trees had been uprooted, part of the veranda was gone, and two wooden outbuildings had been leveled. The brick distillery had withstood the onslaught, but several of the workers’ huts had lost roofs and two had been leveled. As for the cane fields, the stalks that hadn’t been cut lay scattered upon the sodden ground.
They could still be salvaged if the men worked fast. Chris issued orders to Mundo to begin the cleanup and then went to the stables for his horse. Much to his relief, the stables were still standing, though a bit worse for wear. The stable lad stumbled out from one of the stalls to saddle Atlas. Moments later, Chris reined his mount toward Kingston.
The road was flooded, making travel difficult. Chris had to stop several times to remove debris from the road so he could pass. Twice, trees too heavy for him to move blocked the road. In each case he found a way around the obstacle, though the detours slowed him considerably. A trip that should have taken less than an hour took four.
As Chris rode down King Street, it became apparent that the town had received the brunt of the storm. Debris from mangled shops and dwellings littered the ground. Rain stood in the roadway. Amazingly, some buildings appeared unscathed. The King’s Arms was one of the lucky few.
The scene inside the inn was chaotic. People who had taken shelter in the sturdy building were rushing out to check on the condition of their homes and businesses. Chris pushed his way through the frantic exodus until he spied the proprietor.
“Ludlow,” Chris called above the din of voices.
Ludlow seemed startled to see Chris. “Captain, I’m surprised you were able to get through. The roads must be a mess. What can I do for you?”
“I’m looking for my wife. Can you direct me to her room?”
“Your wife? She isn’t here, Captain.”
A spiral of fear snaked down Chris’s spine. “She couldn’t have left Kingston already, for I would have encountered her on the road.”
“I haven’t seen your lady, Captain.”
Chris felt as if the room were closing in on him. “But . . . that’s impossible. I was told Sophia and her maid came to Kingston before the storm broke. Naturally, I assumed they sought shelter from the hurricane at the inn.”
Ludlow shook his head. “I’d know if they were here.”
“Master Ludlow,” a small voice piped up. “I seen the lady.”
Chris turned to the stable lad, his hopes soaring. “Speak up, lad. Tell me what you know.”
“The lady left her carriage at the inn while she shopped in the marketplace. She returned just as it began to rain and asked me to unhitch the horse from the carriage and saddle it. I think she intended to return to Sunset Hill. She said something about wanting to reach home before the storm broke.”
“She didn’t make it,” Chris whispered. “Oh, God, she’s still out there somewhere. What about Kateena?”
“She wasn’t with your lady,” the boy replied.
Frantic, Chris rushed from the inn, mounted Atlas and rode hell for leather out of town. Sophia could be lying hurt somewhere, or, God forbid, dead. He intended to pull all his workers from the fields and organize a search party. Perhaps she had found shelter and was even now trying to get home.
Chris found Lord Chester waiting for him when he arrived home.
“I thought I’d come over to see how you fared during the hurricane,” Chester said.
“As you can see, it could have been worse.”
“I lost half my coffee beans and my tobacco barns, but nothing that can’t be repaired or replaced.”
“Did Sophia happen to seek shelter at Orchid Manor?” Chris asked hopefully. “She took the carriage to Kingston yesterday, and I can’t locate her.”
“Are you implying that Sophia was out during the storm?” Chester asked, aghast. Chris nodded. “My God, man, where could she be?”
“I don’t know. I hoped, prayed that she had sought shelter at the King’s Arms, but she wasn’t there. I’m going to send out a search party immediately.”
“Let me help. And I’m sure Wombly will want to join in the search. I’ll contact him. The more men searching, the better chance we have of finding your wife.”
“Thank you,” Chris said sincerely. “We should concentrate on the area between here and Kingston. She started home on horseback but never arrived.”
Chester left. Chris organized his workers into two groups and joined one of them. It was late afternoon when Chris found Sophia’s mount. He was pinned beneath a fallen tree well off the main road, his leg broken, his eyes rolling wildly in his head. Chris found no evidence that Sophia had been with the horse when it had been struck. He put the poor animal out of its misery and widened the search.
Exhaustion and waning light halted the search. The men returned to their homes for a well-deserved meal and rest. But the search continued the following day and the day after that. The only sign of Sophia was a piece of material from her dress that one of Chester’s slaves found near the foothills of the Blue Mountains. How could Sophia have strayed so far from the road? Chris wondered. Had she become lost in the mountains? Was she even now trying to find her way home?
Where could Sophia be? The obvious answer was the most painful.
Sophia was dead.
Chris refused to stop searching, but after four days of fruitless tramping through the jungle, he released his men to make repairs on their homes and to gather the salvageable cane lying in the fields. He sent word to Chester and Wombly that the search was officially over, even though Chris continued looking.
Kateena had returned home to find the household in mourning. When Lady Chester arrived to express her condolences, Chris quickly set her straight. Until a body was found, he considered Sophia missing, not dead.
That night Chris dreamed of Sophia. He felt her in his arms, flushed with passion, her sweet body arched beneath his, her lush mouth gasping his name as he brought her to completion. The dream was so real, he woke up and reached for her, only to find the space beside him empty.
He missed her, dammit! He missed her vitality, her spirit. He missed knowing she was in his home, waiting for him in his bed. And that truly puzzled him. Nothing in their past suggested that Chris should want Sophia in his home, in his life.
In his heart.
Chapter Thirteen
Sophia opened her eyes to a world of pain and a sea of dark faces staring down at her. She groaned, blinked, and struggled to regain her wits. Her head pounded, the pain so debilitating she could barely string two thoughts together. Of one thing she was certain: This wasn’t Sunset Hill.
“Lady, lady.”
The woman hovering above her had skin the color of tobacco. Her slightly slanted eyes held a worried expression. “Are you awake, lady?”
Sophia nodded and wished she hadn’t. Her arms felt like lead as she lifted them to her head. The woman pushed Sophia’s hands away and replaced them with a cool, wet cloth.
Sophia tried to summon some moisture to lick her dry lips and failed. Immediately someone lifted her head and held a cup of water to her mouth. She drank thirstily until the cup was empty.
“Where am I?” she croaked
. “What is this place?”
“You were found four days ago,” the woman said in a singsong voice, “lying on the ground near our campsite during the height of the storm. The men carried you to the cave in which we had taken shelter. After the hurricane passed, you were carried to my hut. My name is Udamma.”
“I’ve been unconscious four days?” Sophia gasped, stunned. Her first thought was of Chris. “My husband doesn’t know what happened to me.”
“We would have notified him had we known who you were,” Udamma said. “Fear not, lady; you are safe with us.”
Sophia let her gaze wander over the people gathered in the small room. Udamma answered her unspoken question immediately.
“My people are curious about you.” She spoke to them in a language Sophia didn’t understand, and they drifted out the door.
“Many camps like ours thrive in the foothills of the Blue Mountains,” Udamma explained. “We are called Maroons. Some of us are escaped slaves who no longer wish to live under the yoke of slavery. Others are free people of color. We live in freedom here, our physical and spiritual needs taken care of by ‘Daddy’ Sam Sharp.”
“Thank you for your care of me, Udamma,” Sophia said. “I’d like to go home to Sunset Hill now.”
A smile appeared on Udamma’s dark face. “You are Captain Radcliff’s woman?”
“I am Sophia, his wife. Have you heard of my husband?”
“We know that Captain Radcliff freed his slaves, and we admire his bold action. How did you come to be on the road during a hurricane?”
Udamma helped Sophia to sit up. Her head spun dizzily and then filled with a dull ache. “I was returning home from Kingston. I suppose I was foolish to brave the storm, but I was anxious to return to my husband. I’ve never experienced a hurricane before. My maid warned me to take shelter, but I ignored her. It won’t happen again, I assure you.
“Lightning and falling trees frightened my horse and I lost control. He threw me and ran off.” She touched the bump on her forehead. “I must have hit something hard, for I knew nothing more until I woke up here.”