“Was our one night so terrible?” He ran a finger down her cheek. “Your moans of pleasure still ring in my ears.”
“Moans of disgust, you mean.” She jerked from his touch and snapped angry eyes his way. “Yet men like you always think them from delight.”
A slight tic appeared at the corner of his lips. His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, she thought he might strike her. But then he thrust a finger in the air as if testing the wind. “But since you brought up the topic of pleasure, that is the reason I’m here.”
The sun dipped below the trees, hiding its warmth and light from the hideous scene.
Stowy circled the hem of her skirts.
“I am a lonely man.”
“That does not surprise me.” Scooping up her cat, she stormed past him, but he clamped her arm. Tight. She winced.
He spun her around. “Then we will be lonely together, for once the good preacher hears about your prior profession, I do believe he’ll have nothing more to do with you.”
Though Angeline had known the threat was coming, hearing it out loud sent such a wave of agony through her, she nearly crumbled to the ground. Would have crumbled to the ground if the beast weren’t still gripping her arm. She tore away from him, her breath coming hard and fast.
“Why? Why are you doing this now?” When she’d fallen in love. When she finally had a chance at happiness.
Blue eyes sparked with mischief. “Because now you have a reason to do as I say, my dear. Before James showered you with attention, you may have been willing to have your reputation besmirched. But not now. Not when you have everything to lose.”
Everything to lose. Yet, hadn’t she lost it all the second Dodd had set foot on the ship? Or was it the second her uncle forced himself on her all those years ago? Perhaps she never really had any chance of happiness at all. Tears flooded her eyes, and she lowered her chin.
“Come now.” Dodd approached and leaned to peer up at her. “It won’t be so bad. You will come to me in the night. Once or twice a week will suffice. I’m not greedy. And during the day you may carry on your callow dalliance with the doctor or preacher or whatever he is. You see, unlike your pretentious preacher, I am willing to share. What you see in the man is beyond me.”
Anger dried her tears, and she lifted her head. “He’s everything you are not.”
“Yet I will have you in my bed while he carries on like a sheep-headed minion.” He smiled. “What do you say to that?”
She stared at him, knowing she had no cards to play. No choice but to obey. Just like she’d had no choice in what she’d become. Dodd absorbed her with his gaze again, and the thought of him touching her sent a foul taste creeping into her mouth.
“Cat got your tongue?” He chuckled, reaching to pet Stowy, but the cat hissed at him again. Frowning, he withdrew his hand. “Well, you best get your voice back, my dear, because I’ll expect your answer in two weeks. Yes, yes, I’m not completely without compassion. I will grant you some time to consider your options. Enough time to realize you have none.”
And with that, he kissed her on the cheek before she could stop him then turned and strutted away, whistling a discordant tune.
Clutching her skirts, Angeline made her way to the water’s edge and dropped to the ground. Groping for the rag through blurry vision, she found it and scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed her cheek until her skin was raw and stinging and her tears fell in a puddle on the sand. She’d been wrong. So completely wrong. It was impossible to escape her past, to put her memories behind her. She would always be what she had become. Her dream was shattered—her new life abandoned.
Angeline was not at supper. After James had frantically searched for her, Sarah informed him that she wasn’t feeling well and had retired early. Though desperate to see her and concerned for her health, he forced himself to stay away from her hut and instead barely touched his meal of papayas, beans, and fish, while the rest of the colonists chatted idly around him. And why, in the name of all that was holy, was Dodd staring at him with that impish grin on his face? Continually staring and smiling like the blunderhead he was.
Rising, James handed his plate to Mr. Lewis, whose appetite for food matched his lust for liquor. He took it with an appreciative nod as James grabbed the torch he’d prepared to take on his journey to the shore—he and Angeline’s journey—and dipped it in the fire. He’d even left the fields early to assemble logs on the beach so they would have a fire to sit around while he asked if he could court her. Perhaps he was just a foolish romantic, but he wanted everything to be perfect. Perfect for the perfect lady.
Shoving aside leaves, he plunged into the jungle, seeking some time alone to nurse his disappointment. Which was silly. The woman couldn’t help feeling ill. He only hoped—no, prayed—it wasn’t anything serious. Lord, please take care of her. I intend to make her my wife with Your permission. No sooner had he lifted the silent prayer than he realized he hadn’t been very diligent in praying recently. Nor had he asked God’s blessing to court Angeline. There’d been so much to do after the ants destroyed everything. Parts of the fields had to be re-plowed and replanted, the sugar splints tended to, huts repaired, the mill rebuilt from the fire, as well as their normal tasks of digging irrigation ditches and foraging for food. Plus James had been spending so much time with Angeline. An unavoidable smile lifted his lips as he thought of those precious moments. Still, that was no excuse to ignore God. He was the preacher, for heaven’s sake! Was he destined to fail at it all over again? Just like he’d done with his father. Like he’d done with that woman who had destroyed him. He marched ahead, plowing through a curtain of vines, hoping he hadn’t been showered with spiders or beetles or other insects. Insects that now buzzed in their nighttime chorus.
A growl echoed through the trees. Distant but ominous, it caused the hair on James’s arms to prickle. Yet it was the sound that followed that made his stomach twist in a knot. Crackling like a fire but not coming from his torch. He knew that sound all too well. He swerved the flame through the darkness, the blaze flaring like the tail of a comet. The crackling increased. A figure—all smoke and mist—emerged from the leaves. James stood his ground, heart beating through his chest.
“Who are you?” he demanded.
The figure took form and shape and stepped into the light. Skirts of violet poplin floated over the ground, festooned with pink velvet bows. Satin embroidery drew his gaze to the creamy skin bursting from her low neckline, where her hair, the color of pearls, dangled in lustrous spirals. Eyes as green as the jungle around them looked at him with longing. Tabitha. Blood rushed through his veins and began to curdle in his mind. She smiled. He took a step back and blinked, trying to erase her from view. Still she remained, cocked her head.
“Don’t you remember me?” she said in that honey-sweet drawl that had once sounded like music to his ears.
Of course he remembered her. She was the woman who had ruined his life. “You’re not here.”
An adorable pout appeared on her lips. “Why, what a horrid thing to say, dear James. After all we’ve meant to one another.”
James knew she was a vision—from one of the fallen angelic beasts. She had to be. But she looked so real. Her skin was as sparkling and luminescent as he remembered. Her lips plump and moist. Her curves in all the right places. It was the sight of those curves and the peek she’d given him when she leaned forward in the front pew of his church that had become his demise. Week after week. Sunday after Sunday. The way she stared at him as he preached from the pulpit, the way she eased her tongue over her lips, the desire in her eyes, every movement a dance of seduction that had driven him mad.
“We meant naught to each other,” he said, though he wondered why he spoke to a vision. “You seduced me.”
“Did I now? Or was it you who drew me into your lair?” She stepped toward him, the rustle of her skirts joining the buzz of insects. “And what a lion you were.” Her tone dripped with desire as she looked him up and down.
Shame seared his belly and rose up his neck at the memories: the clandestine rendezvous, the long nights of passion. The way he felt nauseous with guilt the next day. The lies. The deception. Her irresistible pull on him again and again. Even now, even as an illusion, she stirred his body to life.
He rubbed the scar beside his mouth—the one her husband had put there. “You’re a wicked woman. Nothing but a pig with a gold ring in her snout who lures men to destruction!” he quoted from the Bible. Proverbs, in fact, had much to say about loose women.
Feigning a look of pain, she sighed and twirled a lock of her hair. “You came of your own free will, if I recall.”
Tearing his gaze from her, James stormed through a tangle of leaves and headed back toward town.
“You have another woman now, don’t you?” Her voice trailed him. “You think she is better than me? You are a bigger fool than ever, James Callaway!” The sound of her laughter bounced off trunks and leaves and rang in his ears all the way back to camp. All the way to his hut, to his cot, where he plopped to sit and dropped his head in his hands. Reaching beneath his bed, he pulled out a small chest, opened it, and brought a Bible to his lap. His father’s Bible. He breathed in the smell of it—leather and fire smoke and aged vellum—and pictured his dad sitting in his favorite high-back chair by the fireplace in their home, reading the words on each page over and over as if they were precious.
“This is yours now, son.” The hands, strong yet veined with age, handed the book to James. “Read it every day. Memorize its words and they will bring you life. Abundant life!”
James could have died happy right there for the look of pride in his father’s eyes, instead of the usual disappointment ever since James had forsaken the church and run off to become a doctor. To make matters worse, during his long absence at war, his mother had died of heartbreak. And fear. Fear that she’d never see her son again. But James had returned, like the prodigal coming to his senses, and now he would take over the pastorate of his father’s church—the Second Baptist Church in Knoxville, Tennessee.
Rain tapped on the thatched roof, jarring him back to the present. Clutching the Bible to his chest, he blinked back the tears burning his eyes. Tabitha had tricked him and led him astray. And now his father was dead. “I’m so sorry, Father. I failed you. I failed you in the worst possible way.”
C
HAPTER 11
Why won’t you look at me?” James asked Angeline as she hovered over the brick oven beneath the thatched roof of the meeting shelter.
Swerving around, her skirts flinging about her legs, she gave him a tight smile. “I am looking at you. I’m just busy at the moment, Doctor.” Her voice sounded stilted. She turned and continued to slice the wild onions, mushrooms, and herbs Thiago had found to add flavor to the rice. Rain tapped a baritone cadence on the thatched roof and formed puddles in the dirt across the town square. The deluge had not lessened since it began last night.
“I’ve been searching for you all day.” James shook his arms, sending droplets through the air. “Are you feeling well?”
“Well enough, thank you.” She continued her work. Wisps of hair, stirred by a breeze, danced over her neck while the musky scent of moist jungle filled his nose.
“I was sorry to hear you were ill last night. I so longed for our stroll on the beach.” He took a step toward her and swiped a hand through his wet hair. The rain had kept the colonists in their huts most of the day, save a few hardy souls who scavenged the jungle for food. And James, who had scavenged the town for Angeline. He had searched every hut, looked in the frame that would become the barn, hunted through the burnt mill, ventured over to the beginnings of the Scotts’ house, but Angeline was nowhere to be found. Until a few moments ago when a flash of blue skirts and red hair sent his heart racing and his legs darting to the meeting shelter.
Still, she said nothing. Thunder grumbled, shaking the roof and loosening a few raindrops onto the table.
He dared another step closer. The fire swamped him in smoke. Coughing, he blinked the sting from his eyes and touched her arm, staying the knife in her hand. “What is wrong, Angeline?”
A tremble passed through her. She drew in a shaky breath and stiffened her jaw, still avoiding his gaze. “I’m helping prepare supper.”
“I didn’t ask what you were doing.” Voices sounded in the distance. He leaned toward her. “Why are you treating me like I have the plague? Did I do something to offend you?” Though he couldn’t imagine what. Tabitha came to mind, and sudden terror flooded him. Had she appeared to Angeline? Had she told her what he’d done?
Violet eyes, brewing with turmoil, lifted to his. But there, he saw it—a speck of affection hid beneath the angst. Or was he only hoping? She opened her mouth to say something…
“There you both are.” Eliza darted beneath the frond roof, removed the cloak from her head and shook out the water. “Thank you for starting the rice, Angeline. That’s just what I was coming to do.”
Other feminine voices rode on the wind accompanied by the splash of boots in mud.
Releasing Angeline, James stepped away. Confound it all!
Lifting her skirts, Magnolia ducked beneath the roof. “Now look at my gown.” She slapped at the mud clinging to her hem while Mrs. Jenkins, Sarah, and a few other women joined them. “When is this rain going to stop? I feel like a waterlogged goose.”
Eliza chuckled. “Surely it can’t last much longer.” Shoving a wet strand of hair behind her ear, she leaned to inspect Angeline’s work. “Would you believe Blake is still sleeping? One day of rain and he’s as lazy as a sloth.” She smiled and glanced up, but instantly frowned, no doubt at the tension strung tight between James and Angeline. Tension that threatened to eat away at his gut if it wasn’t resolved soon.
Slapping her hands together, Eliza skirted the table, mumbling something about helping skin the fish.
Taking Angeline’s elbow, James turned her to face him. “A word, please?”
“I have work to do.” She glanced over her shoulder at the ladies chattering and donning aprons. “Besides, people will hear.”
“Then whisper.” He leaned toward her ear. “Why are you angry?” She smelled of rain and coconut and sweet onions, and he longed to see her smile at him again. Lightning flashed and the droplets pounded even harder, splattering mud onto the raised bamboo floor.
“I’m not. We’ll talk later.” She tugged from him and started to go but not before he saw tears mist her eyes.
He pulled her back. “I’m not letting you go until you tell me what has you so upset. If someone has hurt you…” If so, he’d forget he was a preacher and pummel them into dust.
She jerked from his grasp. “You can’t always rescue me, James.” Anger burned in her eyes…anger and something else. Despair? “Sometimes you just have to let go.”
“What does that mean?” A sudden chill bit through his wet shirt.
She swallowed and stared off into the jungle, where rain streamed off the tip of a giant banana leaf like a spigot. A drop squeezed through the roof and landed on her forehead. James reached to wipe it, but she swatted him away. Thunder bellowed. “It means let me go, James. Let us go.”
The words felt like barbed spikes as they passed over her tongue. Sharp spikes that stung her lips, her ears. And her heart. James stepped backward into the rain. Water cascaded down his face, blurring his expression of shock and agony and beading in his lashes that hung limp over pain-filled eyes. She wanted to take it all back, retract every word, and lose herself in his arms forever.
But she couldn’t.
Rain slicked his hair and dripped from the curled tips to his collar. His wet shirt clung to every line and muscle in his chest. Still he stared at her. “I don’t understand. I thought…I thought we cared for each other.”
Blood pooled in her head. Behind her, the women’s voices grew muted and distant. “We do care.” She forced a smile. She would give him that much. A friendship to cherish.<
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Lightning flashed a deathly gray over him, enhancing the benumbed look on his face. Flattening his lips, he nodded then turned and walked away.
Taking her heart with him.
Impulsively, she sped after him, tears joining the rain on her cheeks.
He must have heard her for he stopped and faced her, confusion bending his brow.
She must be strong. If she stayed away from him, if she pretended not to care, Dodd would have no leverage over her. Then perhaps she wouldn’t have to give herself to the lecherous swine. She wouldn’t have to go back to her old way of life. And James would be spared the pain of discovering the truth. Even if Dodd eventually told him, it was better to break James’s heart now than crush it later after they entered a doomed courtship. Either way, things must end between them.
But she could tell him none of this.
Instead they stood, rain sheeting between them, water dripping off their chins and lashes.
“I’m sorry,” she finally said. Then fisting her hands, she forced herself to turn and walk away. Tears came as hard as the rain.
Dreams were not meant for her—not for little girls who had become harlots.
Distant groans wove their way through the slumberous maze in Hayden’s mind. Tap, tap, tap, just like the thrum of incessant rain on the roof of his hut—the thrum he’d become so accustomed to these past three days, it actually helped him fall asleep. That and the feel of his wife cradled in his arms. The last thought brought a smile to his lips while another whimper finally burst through his mind, jerking him awake.
Magnolia thrashed beside him. “No. Don’t leave me! Don’t leave me!”
Leaning on his elbow, he drew her trembling body close. “Princess, wake up. You’re dreaming.” He shook her gently then kissed her forehead. With a moan, her eyes popped open, her chest heaving against his. Releasing a breath, she flung her arms around him.
“Hayden, it was such a terrible nightmare.” Her voice quivering, she clung to him as if he were a lifeline in a storm.
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