Moonlight Rebel

by Ferrarella, Marie

  "Lucinda, what have you done to yourself?"

  "The butterfly has emerged from her cocoon." Perhaps I can divert Savannah's attention to Lucinda long enough to warn John, Krystyna thought, striving to stay calm. But how could she get word to him? She didn't know where to find Jeremiah, and she couldn't get away herself.

  Savannah tossed her head, utterly vexed. She preferred Lucinda as a self-conscious dolt. "She's still a moth." Her eyes narrowed as she recognized the gown. "And in my gown, too!"

  Lucinda cringed slightly, then found that she hated Savannah for doing this to her. "Hated," the word resounded in her head. She had never hated anyone before. But yes, at this moment she hated Savannah for taking away her good feeling.

  But Savannah had more important things on her mind than a gown. "You," she whirled on Krystyna," are in a great deal of trouble." Lest she tried to get away, Savannah grabbed Krystyna by the arm. "We're going to see my father and tell him what you've done, how you've betrayed his trust." She fairly glowed with malice. "And then we'll see how high and mighty you are."

  Krystyna pulled her arm free. The look in her eyes cut Savannah in two. "I can walk without your assistance, Savannah."

  "I just wanted to be certain that you didn't run off to warn your lover." Savannah sneered.

  Krystyna looked at her coldly. "I do not run. I do not have your instincts. I accept the consequences of what I do."

  What is wrong with this woman? Savannah fumed. Why doesn't she cringe, beg? Is she too stupid to realize what she is in for? "Prepare yourself for some grave consequences, then." Savannah laughed with relish. With a flourish, she gestured toward the door. "This way, 'Your Highness.'"

  Krystyna said nothing as she passed Savannah, but as she looked in Lucinda's direction, her eyes silently implored the older woman.

  Savannah walked out, looking forward to the scene to come. She had completely forgotten about Lucinda and the reason for her initial fit of temper.

  Lucinda bit her lip as she watched the two women. She owed a debt to Krystyna, far greater than she could ever hope to pay. Making up her mind, she picked up her shawl and quickly hurried to the back stairs.

  Her passage was noticed and then forgotten in the kitchen as the slaves went back to work. But Jeremiah looked out the back window to see what direction Lucinda took. Seeing, he nodded. It was time.

  Quietly, he slipped out the back door.

  When the two women entered the study, Morgan was standing over Aaron, jabbing his finger at figures on the ledger. They weren't to his liking.

  "That damn tariff is driving us out of business " he fumed. "Can't sell but to the British. Can't buy but from the British. Can't even relieve yourself without their say-so!"

  Morgan caught Jason's eye as he turned around and saw that his son was smiling at him. He wondered if Jason suspected his secret traffic with the French and Dutch. But how else was the plantation to stave off ruination? And how else could he be raising money for Washington's army?

  Jason listened, amused, as his father went on with his tirade. Poor Aaron, he thought, sweating it out again. He looked over to the door as a noise caught his attention. He sat a little straight in his chair by the fire when he saw both Krystyna and Savannah outside. What could have transpired to make the two join forces?

  Savannah swept into the room. "Father, I have something to tell you."

  "Not now, girl." Morgan waved her away impatiently. He didn't like the sound of women when he was concentrating on matters of business.

  Savannah let out an angry breath. "Yes, now!"

  Morgan looked up, surprised at the tone she used. Was she daft? "You mind your voice, girl, if you know what's good for you."

  Savannah wasn't about to be treated like some child petitioning for his attention. "And if you know what's good for you, you'll get rid of this . . . this . . ."

  Jason uncurled his long frame from the easy chair. "Watch your tongue, Savannah."

  Krystyna's heart sank when she saw him. She didn't want him learning about the incident this way. She hadn't wanted him to hear about it at all, for she knew what would be on his mind once he heard his sister's tale.

  Savannah hadn't realized that Jason was in the room. "Oh, you're here, too." Her malicious smile grew. "Good. I want you to hear this. Maybe you'll find Charity a little more to your liking after you've heard what I have to say."

  "What in thunderation are you jabbering about, girl?"

  Morgan demanded. "I don't have time to waste on your petty jealousy."

  Savannah's face grew dark with anger. Krystyna merely stared straight ahead, praying that Lucinda was hurrying John out of the cabin. She didn't want to think of the possibility that the woman had been too frightened of Morgan's wrath to act. Krystyna feared for John's life if Morgan caught him.

  "Petty, is it?" Savannah cried. "Well, wait until you hear this. Maybe then you won't think so highly of this upstart." Savannah took a deep breath, drawing out the moment. She felt all three pairs of eyes on her face "She's hiding a British soldier in her cabin."

  Morgan's expression changed from annoyance to shock, to surprise, and then anger. Jason's face became a total mask, hiding whatever feelings were inside, while Aaron looked at Krystyna dumbfounded.

  Morgan's steel gray eyes darkened as he glared at Krystyna. "Is this true, Countess?"

  She looked at him for a long moment, forcing herself to think clearly. "Yes, there is a British soldier in my cabin." She saw disappointment, then anger in Jason's eyes, and it was hard for her to go on. But it wasn't her life she was concerned about, it was John's. "A wounded British soldier."

  "How dare you!" Morgan shouted, his fist hitting the desk. Aaron pulled aside the ledger, still stunned by the news. "How dare you give sanctuary to my sworn enemy? Is this how you repay me after I took you in?"

  Krystyna found her courage. "You are a sworn enemy to an idea," she emphasized. "This is a man. A man who does not even know you, nor you him."

  "It makes no difference! Don't you go twisting my words around!" Morgan testily retorted.

  "I am not twisting your words." Krystyna steadied her voice, all the while avoiding Jason's eyes. "I am trying to say that I found a man who was bleeding to death. It was his life I saved, not Britain's." Krystyna saw Morgan's eyes glow with hatred. She went on hurriedly, hoping against hope that she could make him understand. "I know your feelings, perhaps more than anyone else in this room. But he was not a whole country, he was only one man."

  "Handsome?" Jason interjected, his voice cold. Here he was, playing the courtly gentleman, worried about forcing himself on her and all the while, she was sleeping with someone else. He felt jealousy burn a hole in his stomach. Anger and a sense of betrayal filled it.

  She wouldn't apologize, wouldn't ask him to understand. If she did, it would seem she was protesting too much. "I did not notice."

  Savannah looked from one man to the other in horror. Was that trollop going to make them forgive her? Savannah moved around the desk, put her hand on her father's arm. "Don't let her trick you, Father. She went against your authority." She looked accusingly at Krystyna. "She could be hiding one of the men who burned Norfolk."

  Krystyna looked directly at Morgan, praying feverishly that somehow she could get through to his basic sense of decency. "If it were you, would you have left him there to die?"

  "Yes, by God!" Morgan spat out.

  "On Christmas Day?" she pressed.

  "On any damn day of the year!"

  Krystyna refused to believe that. Morgan McKinley was a hard man, but he was fair. "I don't think so." Her eyes locked with his. "You are too just a man. I do not think you could walk away and let anyone die. Especially someone who has done you no personal harm."

  "We'll see about harm." Morgan turned toward Jason. "Go bring him here!"

  As he passed her, Jason did not trust himself to look at Krystyna. His heart told him that the woman he had held in his arms so recently couldn't betray him. His mind a
sked, Why not? Could he really believe that she only nursed the man back to health? Or was she lying in the arms of a British soldier each night while he slept alone, pining for her?

  He set his jaw hard as he left the room.

  Savannah was eager to drive the nails into Krystyna's coffin. "Don't listen to her, Father. She's just trying to shield her lover. Surely you see that."

  "I can see things a lot more clearly without you yammering at me, girl!" he snapped. He glared at Krystyna, feeling severely betrayed. He had trusted her. She knew how he felt. How could she have blatantly gone against him like this? "All right, Countess." She seemed amazingly composed, considering the situation. What manner of woman was she? Was this a tempest in a teapot, or did she hope to brazen him out? "Speak up. I want to know everything." I am growing soft in my old age, he mused. In his youth, he would have had the soldier dead by now and the woman packing. Yet here he was, waiting to have her explain further.

  "I found him lying on the ground not far from the cabin. He was unconscious, with a fever, and bleeding badly. I brought him to my cabin — "

  "Alone?" Morgan peered intently at her face.

  "Yes." She would die before she implicated Jeremiah. However willing the elder McKinley was to listen to her, she knew there would be no such hearing for a slave. "I managed somehow to rouse him. With his arm over my shoulder, I got him to the cabin," she lied. "It took several days for his fever to break. He has been weak, but mending ever since."

  She waited for Morgan to pass sentence on her.

  "Would you have been so kind and considerate if this man were a Prussian soldier?" Morgan demanded harshly.

  She didn't hesitate. "Yes, if I had not seen him kill anyone dear to me."

  Morgan leaned over the desk, his face inches from hers. "And if he had?"

  Krystyna threw back her shoulders. "Then I would probably have left him there to die. And had my conscience plague me all the days of my life," she answered honestly.

  Morgan weighed her words thoughtfully. He supposed, to her mind, she had done the right thing. It was a matter of basic human decency. And she was a countess, damn her, and used to doing what she pleased. At least she was a decent woman, not like some. He cast a glance at his daughter.

  Morgan circled Krystyna carefully, his hands clasped behind his back. Savannah watched in anticipation. Aaron sat, taking it all in, knowing he wouldn't have had the courage to do what Krystyna had done, even though his loyalties lay with Britain. The consequences were too great.

  "Uppity little snit, aren't you?" Morgan finally asked.

  Krystyna didn't understand his words, but she understood the tone. She refrained from answering.

  Morgan stopped and stood before her, his anger leaving him. He sighed. "Well, I suppose you can't help being the way you are, what with your background and all. But I want to warn you," his voice rose, "the next time you go against my wishes, you'll be packed and out before you know what's happened."

  Savannah couldn't believe it. "You're letting her stay?"

  He didn't like answering for his decisions. "Yes, I'm letting her stay!"

  Relief flooded through Krystyna and she felt almost weak at the knees as she smiled gratefully at Morgan. He returned her look. They understood one another, though there were many points on which they disagreed.

  Savannah grasped her father's arm in disbelief. "But—"

  Morgan shook his daughter off. " 'But' me no 'buts,' girl. At least she's got the courage to follow her instincts. All you can do is spy on people and think only of yourself. Maybe you'd do with learning a few things from the Countess here." He touched her face with his roughened hand. "Beauty isn't everything, girl." As she drew away, he let her. "Character's important, too. And yours doesn't speak very highly for you."

  Enraged, humiliated, and frustrated, Savannah whirled about and left the room, slamming the door in her wake. The noise echoed through the house, and a book fell from a shelf almost striking Aaron.

  "Thank you," Krystyna said warmly.

  "Nothing to thank me for, Countess. You've had your warning. Your own spunk saved you. This time. There won't be a second," Morgan told her just as Jason walked into the room. He was alone.

  "Well?" Morgan demanded.

  "He's gone. No trace at all," he told his father, then looked at Krystyna. The darkness in his eyes hadn't left. "Wasn't that weak, was he?"

  Krystyna pressed her lips together. She wasn't going to ask his forgiveness. It was his trust she wanted. If she didn't have that without asking, the moments they had shared meant nothing. "He said he would leave as soon as he was able." She addressed her words to Morgan, not Jason. "He did not want to get me into trouble."

  "And did he?" Jason looked at her belly meaningfully.

  Damn his eyes. How could she have thought herself in love with this miserable son of a sea slug? "He was grateful for his life," she continued, looking at Morgan.

  "As well he should be, the bloody bastard." Morgan exhaled wearily. He was just as glad not to have to rule on this matter. He didn't relish having the blood of a man who couldn't defend himself on his hands. "Well, it's done. See that it doesn't take place again." He looked at her squarely. "Do we understand each other?"

  "Yes, we do." But if it did happen again, she would be bound to do the same. This Morgan understands, too, she thought.

  "All right, get off with you." Morgan waved her to the door. "I've got accounts to go over."

  "Yes, Mr. McKinley." Krystyna left the room. She was intensely aware of Jason following behind her. She felt herself growing apprehensive and wary.

  "Keeping a man in your cabin, what will people think?" Jason couldn't help the sarcasm that came into his voice.

  Krystyna turned to face him in the hallway. If he meant to make her feel guilty, he wasn't going to succeed. She had done nothing to be ashamed of. "I do not care what people think." Anger tinged her eyes. Why didn't he give her the measure of respect she deserved? The measure of trust she needed? "I do not have to account for myself to anyone but God, and you are not my God."

  "Not yet."

  Krystyna had no idea whether the words were meant as a promise or a threat. In either case, they didn't apply. "Not ever," she shot back.

  He merely laughed, wanting to make her hurt as he did. "There are no ties between us, because I don't choose to create them." He took her face in his hand, holding it still when she tried to pull away. "As long as you're there when I need you." By the flash of pain in her eyes, he knew his words cut deep. But she hadn't said that the soldier wasn't her lover, hadn't denied that he'd taken her at least once; and Jason's pride was stung. Worse, something inside of him ached and brooded when he thought of her being possessed by another man. He dropped his hand to his side.

  Her eyes blazed angry sparks. "If you think you can have me like some slave, waiting at your beck and call, you are sadly mistaken. I belong to no man, least of all you." She tried to pass, but he held her back.

  He lifted a brow, dark amusement on his face. "Not even your British friend?"

  "He, at least, was a gentleman."

  "Why? Did he tip his hat before, after, or during?"

  "During!" Uttering an oath, she turned away, wanting to be rid of him. He was a heartless, cruel fool. She had been right in her original belief. She was merely a diversion for him.

  And she had let herself be used, had given in to the strange craving within her and allowed Jason to make love to her while all the time he was laughing at her, using her. Angry tears welled up as she stormed away from him.

  He let her go, cursing her for not denying his words.

  "Krystyna." Lucinda called softly from the parlor just as she reached the front door.

  Krystyna stopped, biting the inside of her lip. Don't cry, don't, her mind kept repeating. He's not worth it. She turned toward Lucinda.

  The other woman rushed up to her. "I did it," Lucinda whispered. "I warned him in time. Jeremiah and I got him out. We'd just managed t
o leave when Jason arrived. He's a nice man, your lieutenant."

  So, the slave had helped Lucinda. But Krystyna didn't want Lucinda to misunderstand. Here, at least, she could tell the truth without being defensive. "He is not my lieutenant." Jason, why won't you believe that? she thought. "Thank you for helping me. That was very brave of you," she added.

  Lucinda beamed. "It was, wasn't it? But before you came, I would have been too afraid to save him."

  Krystyna stepped into the parlor, not wishing to be in the hall where Jason could chance upon them. "You don't care about this war, do you?" she asked, trying to keep her mind from her hurt.

  Lucinda shook her head. A curl bounced against her cheek. She liked the feel of that. "I don't quite understand it, but nothing should make people want to kill each other. Nothing is an excuse for murder."

  Krystyna put her hand over Lucinda's. "You are a wonderful person," she declared. "Do not ever change."

  With that, she left the room just as Aaron was entering it. He was about to speak to her, but when he looked in his wife's direction, he was utterly amazed. Krystyna saw his reaction and felt a touch of pride. At least I have done some good, she thought as she left the house.

  But the angry emptiness didn't go away.

  "Lucinda?" Aaron asked uncertainly.

  "Yes?" Lucinda tried to remain composed, but Aaron's approval was so important to her that her heart was beating as fast as it had the day he'd asked her for her hand. She didn't know then, as she did now, that it was an arranged marriage, thought of as advantageous to both families. She had thought of herself as being lucky until shortly after their honeymoon, when she had discovered letters from his first mistress. And then learned of the others.

  Aaron slowly circled her. "What have you done to yourself?" he asked softly.

  "I . . . Don't you like it?" She tried not to appear as crushed as she felt.

  "Like it?" He laughed, taking her hands in his. "I'm overwhelmed. I never realized —"

  "That I was something more than terribly plain and dull?" Lucinda supplied helpfully. There was no condemnation in her eyes.