Carl’s shoulders slumped. He wouldn’t be going to Manaus to see Alicia after all. He wanted to rebel, hit someone or something! Marry Alicia and go off somewhere with her and the Baron be damned. But tradition was too strong and his upbringing too rigid.
Carl cringed before the verbal attack as though it had been physical. He knew what his father meant by “other measures.”
Jamie sat on the sofa listening to his father’s sharp words. He wondered what had made the Baron so angry; hadn’t Royall agreed to everything he had said? He let his mind wander to the new order of the additional soldiers. It would bring his total to eighty. He didn’t hear Carl’s weak reply promising to do his best.
Royall spent her days with Jamie and her evenings with Carl. At first she had spent many hours inspecting the Casa Grande. She picked the colorful tropical flowers and arranged them artfully in every room of the Casa. When she tired of the flowers, she would make her way to the kitchen regions and hesitantly make suggestions to the cook. Surprisingly, Elena made no attempt to interfere. When boredom set in, as Royall knew it would, she decided to teach Jamie the piano. He wasn’t an apt pupil and would have been content to have her play for him by the hour while he sat and dreamily listened. It puzzled Royall that his help wasn’t needed on the plantation. The Baron actually seemed glad that he spent whole days in her company.
It had become increasingly clear to her that Jamie was irresponsible and childish, incapable of decision. Elena actually mothered the tall, husky, young man and controlled him with an iron hand, tempered with tenderness. Lately Elena seemed to be losing that control as Jamie became increasingly rebellious. Often he would do something or say something that would anger Royall, but all it took was one of his bright, sincere smiles and she found herself forgiving him. Jamie was an incredibly handsome young man, beautiful, actually, and when he apologized, his manner was especially engaging.
Carl was an attentive suitor. And he had fast become a suitor. On long, quiet evenings under the alluring tropical moon, Carl and Royall sat in the small pergola in the back gardens. He was pleasant company after the long day with Jamie and, unlike his brother, was extremely well read and quite knowledgeable about the functions of rubber. He even described some ideas of his own for the practical use of the gooey substance drawn from trees.
Royall enjoyed her evenings with Carl because his excitement was contagious, and she found herself a sounding board for his more innovative ideas. She became quite fond of him; he was dear to her if only for the fact that he respected her intellect, acknowledged that she even possessed an intellect! A rare thing in an age where a woman was thought blessed if she possessed tiny feet, slim ankles, a narrow waist, and a pretty face. Having these, a woman had no need for a brain. Indeed, society decried a woman who professed to have one.
Royall knew that several times Carl had been on the verge of asking for her hand. Skillfully, she had so far avoided a direct confrontation. She was fond of Carl, but she didn’t love him and his attentions were fast becoming worrisome.
She paid rapt attention to the lessons that Jamie and Carl taught her regarding the jungle, and the Baron finally decreed she could ride alone.
Royall arose early with the knowledge that this was her first day of freedom. For it was freedom! She could go and do as she pleased. In truth, all she planned to do was go for a ride alone, without Jamie or Carl. She was so excited she could barely close the hooks on her riding habit. Quietly, she slipped from the room, her carryall in hand. She was going to the Regalo Verdad, Sebastian Rivera’s plantation. A note had been delivered from Mrs. Quince telling her of the expert needlewoman that Sebastian employed as his housekeeper. It appeared from the letter that Anna, for that was her name, had agreed not only to make Royall’s costume, but also Mrs. Quince’s, who was to be at the plantation awaiting Royall’s arrival. She had journeyed there the day before and had spent the night, the note ended.
Royall slipped from the house quietly and ran on light feet to the stable. Dawn was just breaking. She looked at the gray pink light and shivered. By the time she had her horse saddled it would be completely light. Saddling the dappled gray with clumsy fingers, she fought the urge to look over her shoulder to see if anyone was going to stop her. Her preparations completed, she mounted the gray and led him in a slow trot through the courtyard. Once on the jungle trail, she spurred the horse gently, and it responded to her hold on the reins. She felt as free as the colorful birds with their shrill, raucous cries. Picking her way carefully over the vine-strewn ground, she felt her seat was firm, and she felt quite comfortable on her high perch. She nibbled on a ripe papaya, tossing the pit away. She rode at a fast canter and within the hour was on property that belonged to Sebastian Rivera.
Royall stopped her horse at the end of the long drive leading to the Casa Grande of Regalo Verdad —in Spanish it meant the True Gift. Taking her mount for a slow canter up the drive, she stopped once again as she came within sight of the house. Like the Reino’s Casa, it was low and white with Spanish arches creating the veranda. Its roof was red tiled, and there was a luxurious growth of greenery surrounding it. Unlike Reino Brazilia, everything seemed lovingly cared for, tended with the gentlest of hands. The drive that approached the house was carefully laid brick, and at the far side Royall could see several old Indian men patiently laying the dusty pink oblongs into the striking herringbone pattern. A black woman wearing a colorful tignon wrapped around her head stepped out into the drive to shake an Indian-made rug. She sang in full-throated glory, her voice carrying across the distance in lyrical melody. When the woman lifted her eyes and saw Royall, she waved a happy greeting.
Compared to Regalo Verdad, the Reino was a dismal, lonely place. Here, children played on the back lawns and fresh laundry flapped in the breeze. Women and children seemed to all be happily engaged in their work, and although they moved slowly, as the Indians had learned through the ages to survive the climate, they were all clean and smiling.
Small children gathered around her as she slipped from her horse onto the mounting block and handed a tall, age-bent black the reins. He offered a wide, toothy grin. “Welcome, Senora, welcome to Regalo Verdad.”
The atmosphere here was an uplifting one, and Royall hadn’t realized how much she missed seeing a friendly smile on someone’s face. A little girl came running up to her, “Hola, Senorita,” she said with a giggle. “Como se llama usted?”
Royall laughed at the small child who expected her to speak more Spanish than she could. “Hola, nina. Me llamo Royall Banner.”
“My name is Mary,” the child answered in clear, precise English. “Have you come to see Senora Quince?” Leading Royall up to the house and waiting by the heavy, carved door, “You are very pretty. Someday may I touch your hair?” Her dark eyes lit with eagerness that made Royall laugh.
“You may touch it now, if you like.” She bent her head and felt the child’s little fingers touch her curls. “I love your pigtails,” Royall told her, twitching one of her fat braids.
“Pigtail?”
Royall laughed with delight. She held the heavy braid and explained that it was called a pigtail in the United States. The child giggled over the new word. Royall watched as she rolled the word over and over on her tongue. The door was opened by the housekeeper, who ushered Royall into a wide, cool-looking room. Immediately Royall spied Mrs. Quince drinking a cup of coffee, her host beside her.
Once again Royall was struck by Sebastian’s resemblance to the Baron. The same square jaw, the set of the eyes. Consciously, she drew her eyes away from his face. Her breathing quickened as her legs turned to jelly.
As she entered, he arose and extended a welcome to his Casa Grande, but his eyes remained cold and aloof. Immediately he excused himself and left the ladies to their dressmaking. He informed his housekeeper that he would be back in time for lunch and, if she had time, to prepare it. The dark-skinned housekeeper smiled and said, “Be gone with you, Sebastian. When you return, it will be read
y. As you well know, I am quite capable of doing two things at one time.” Sebastian smiled, and his handsome face transformed completely. Royall envied the easy camaraderie he had with his housekeeper. Why couldn’t he smile at her like that? He had once—so long ago she could barely remember.
The ladies then entered into an animated discussion about the ball and the costumes they would wear.
“What will you be wearing, Mrs. Quince? Or are you keeping it a secret?”
“No secret, Royall. I don’t wear a costume. I’m far too old for that. I’ll just go as plain old me.”
“Don’t consider yourself old, Mrs. Quince,” Royall pretended to scold. “And as for being plain, nothing could be further from the truth.”
“Our new neighbor is right, Mrs. Quince,” Anna, the housekeeper, broke in. “You have character and respect. Aren’t you the most respected lady in Manaus?” Then, turning to Royall, “Mrs. Quince does not want a costume, but you, Senora, are young and should dance all the night. Have you thought of what you would like to wear? You are so light, so fair, you remind me of ... of what I have seen in Senor Rivera’s books. The goddess Diana. The huntress.”
Royall was speechless.
“It is settled then,” Mrs. Quince burst out. “Diana you will be.”
Anna watched the golden woman and said, “I will outdo myself in making your costume. It will be small payment for the kindness you have shown my daughter.”
When Royall looked puzzled, Mrs. Quince explained. “One of your little handmaidens, Nessie, is Anna’s daughter.”
The rest of the morning was spent searching through Sebastian’s books for a picture of Diana wearing something that was proper to wear in public. Then they discussed material and fittings, and it was noontime before Anna departed for the kitchen to prepare lunch.
When they were alone, Mrs. Quince turned to Royall and asked, “Tell me what you think of Regalo Verdad. No small difference from the Reino, eh, Royall?”
“It’s magnificent. And happy, such a happy place.”
“Sebastian’s heart and soul are in this plantation. I think he’s worked harder than any man in Brazil to make it what it is, including my own Alonzo.”
Anna announced lunch, and the two women followed her to the dining room, where they were immediately joined by Sebastian. He seated the two women and then took his place at the head of the table. He bowed his head and said grace. The light luncheon of fresh fish was a tasty delight. For dessert there was a fresh fruit sponge cake. The inevitable strong Brazilian coffee followed.
Mrs. Quince, always a matchmaker at heart, suddenly spoke. “Sebastian, my dear, why don’t you take Royall for a ride around the plantation? Anna has finished with her for the moment.”
Royall flushed a rosy crimson at the blatant approach of her matchmaking. Sebastian Rivera frowned, but being the gentleman he was, could do nothing but agree. He told Royall to wait on the veranda, and he would have her mount saddled. He returned within minutes.
Royall looked up at the tall man. “I apologize for Mrs. Quince. She means well but I’m sure you must have other things to occupy your time than taking me riding. I can sit on the veranda if Mrs. Quince feels that I am in the way.”
Sebastian looked at the golden girl and felt some of his hatred fade. She looked so lost, so alone. “It’s my pleasure, Senora Banner,” he said coolly. He helped Royall mount, and her dappled gray followed the black horse.
“It’s a magnificent animal you ride,” she said in a friendly tone, hoping to draw him into conversation. Sebastian merely nodded.
They rode in silence and soon came upon what looked like a village. The stone huts were whitewashed and clean. Small children scampered around happy and healthy. The women wore bright clothing; they too looked happy and healthy. The jungle had been cleared from the center of the little village. Everything seemed to have its place. The people greeted Sebastian, smiles stretched from ear to ear. It seemed that Sebastian had a personal word for each. And he appeared to know everyone’s name. He reached a long arm down and scooped up a small Indian boy and swung him onto the horse. He spurred the great black beast around the small clearing, and the child giggled and laughed with glee. His mother smiled at this display of affection from the owner of the plantation, and Royall felt in awe of this great man at her side; yet, he mystified her. He set the child down and called out in the Indian tongue. Three women came to stand by his mount and looked at him expectantly. Sebastian introduced Royall and told them she lived on Reino Brazilia and that she knew the children.
Hope, despair, and love were mirrored in the women’s faces, but they said nothing. They stood still and waited for her to speak. She tried, but the words were thick in her throat. She tried again. “Dear God in heaven, what do I say?” She looked at Sebastian. He returned her look mockingly. She would receive no help from him. She looked into the expectant faces of the women in front of her and suddenly the little village was quiet. They all waited for her answer. “The ninas are happy. Father Juan is teaching them their letters and numbers. Moriah is happy and laughs a lot.” One of the women, evidently Moriah’s mother, beamed a smile, tears in her eyes. The others asked of Rosy and Bridget. Royall tried to speak quickly, but her choking emotions caused her to stutter. Sebastian did not fail to notice, but he said nothing. If Royall was part owner in Reino, then she was just as responsible as the Baron himself.
Royall stared at the three mothers and cleared her throat.
Finally, she managed, “They will be returned to you. I give you my word.” Suddenly, the women were grasping at her legs and crying happily. Royall looked at Sebastian but could not read anything in his expression. “I will see to it that the children are returned,” she said coldly to the tall man. “I don’t give my word lightly.”
“It’s not your word that I doubt, Senora Banner. It’s that of Carlyle Newsome. And,” he said darkly, “he has given his word that the children will not be returned ... ever!”
“Well, Senor Rivera,” Royall said hotly, “I have given you my word. And,” she said imperiously, “that is the end of that.” She reined in the gray and started off at a brisk canter.
Sebastian caught up to her effortlessly. There was a new expression on his face as he studied the proud head and the stately carriage of the golden girl. She had spirit and determination, he’d give her that.
“Tell me, Senora Banner, when do you plan to marry Carl Newsome?” It was a question he casually tossed out, but he’d been thinking about it. Knowing the Baron, it wasn’t unlikely that the man would want to incorporate Royall’s share into his own. And what of Royall? Was she contemplating marriage into the Newsome family, wanting the whole pie instead of half?
“I’m afraid you have been misinformed. I am not now, or in the future, contemplating marriage with Carl. Somehow I would have thought you weren’t the kind of man to listen to gossip,” she said, her voice frigid, her eyes level.
Sebastian looked at the girl and didn’t doubt her for one moment.
“And to clarify one more matter, Senor Rivera—” She made his name sound like a disease. “—when I marry it will be because I am in love. I’ll have no marriage arranged for convenience’s sake. Is that understood? The man I marry must be a man, and above all else, he must love me as I love him, a man to father my children. Not a man who lies and takes advantage of a woman’s most tender emotions. In short, Senor Rivera, the man I marry will be the direct opposite of you! You used me! I was nothing more to you than a convenient whore. It was a mistake I’ll never make again.”
Royall flushed from head to toe. Dear God! Had she said those things aloud? So be it. She was her father’s daughter; she would speak her mind. She had certainly done that!
Royall spurred her horse forward, leaving a stunned Sebastian staring after her.
He watched her ride ahead, a grin on his face. She was a spitfire! A survivor.
Suddenly, Sebastian saw a long vine hanging in the path of her cantering horse. She
was heading for it at a fast pace, unaware of the danger. He dug his heels into his stallion’s flanks, spurring the beast forward. Lunging to Royall’s side, he reached for her and grabbed her from the saddle just as her mount cleared the vine.
Royall found herself in a most unladylike position. In order to extricate herself, she would either have to wiggle out of his grasp and fall to the ground, placing her in an embarrassing position, or she would have to let Sebastian pull her up next to him, placing her face inches from his own.
Sebastian looked at her curiously, watching her indecision, then decided for her, pulling her up, hard against him.
Sebastian’s eyes laughed into Royall’s. The jet circles glinted in amusement at her obvious predicament. She faced him boldly, brazenly.
Amusement died in him as he became aware of her nearness, of her womanly scent mingling with the perfume of her hair. The sun made a nimbus of gold around her head, and he held her more tightly, finding himself marveling at the lightness of her, the slimness of her waist. The contact of her body against his thigh was warm, a tingle of slow-burning fire. Golden flecks were dancing in her eyes, heightening the pink flush of her smooth cheek. Bending his head lower, lower, until he could see the slight pulse at the base of her throat, he kissed her, this golden goddess, and she was responding in the way he remembered, had dreamed: deeply, searchingly, passionately.
Captive Innocence Page 15