"But you're not going to, are you?" Adam murmured softly, his mouth curved in a humorless smile. "The instant you get your hands on her, you're going to kill me."
Micajah nodded, pleased that Adam grasped the situation. "Yep! I surely am! Got it all figured out."
This time it was Adam's turn to nod his head. "Seems that way."
Enjoying himself hugely, Micajah said with obvious relish, "I've been looking to kill you for a long time... even before you played that trick on me, pretending to be Jason Savage."
Adam's brows snapped. "Before? But you didn't know me before then."
"Knew of you!" Micajah replied smugly. "Met a fellow in a tavern on Silver Street in the spring—blond, fancy-faced dandy—and he paid me good money to kill you. Half then and half when the job was done. Thing is, you had already left Natchez to go visit your brother-in-law." Micajah beamed at him. "When you're dead I'll not only have Savanna, but I'll get the rest of my money."
Adam had no trouble identifying the man who had paid to have him killed—Charles Asher. He took small comfort from the fact that Micajah was not likely to collect the rest of his money; Asher was as good at double-crossing as Micajah. His lips quirked in a wry smile. "Like you said, you've got it all figured out."
Annoyed by Adam's unruffled demeanor, Micajah scowled and, his eyes hard, he muttered darkly, "And don't forget it. Savanna'll be along directly and then you're going to be gator bait."
Lying bound on the ground, helpless to protect himself or the woman he loved, Adam could only pray that Savanna would discard Micajah's note... that she'd be so outraged from his reckless lovemaking that she wouldn't risk her life in a fruitless bargain....
It wasn't until nearly noon the next day that Adam's disappearance was discovered. No one had thought that Micajah would strike so swiftly, and the assumption had been made by the others that Adam had gone to bed late the previous evening without seeing anyone. Even his absence the next morning was not remarkable—either he was sleeping late or he was busy in his study. No one considered that he had already been kidnapped by Micajah. Bodene's arrival just before noon changed all that.
After greeting Savanna and her mother and exchanging a few hurried words with Jack and Toby, Bodene, his brow furrowed with worry, went in search of Adam. Uneasy when he could find no trace of Micajah and Jeremy in New Orleans, he had ridden to Campo de Verde with a strong sense of urgency. The fact that no one had seen Adam since last night gave him an ominous sensation in the pit of his belly.
He found the note that Micajah had left in Adam's study just a few minutes later. He would have hidden it and taken matters into his own hands, but Savanna had been right on his heels, and he had barely read the message himself before she had snatched it from him.
From the moment they had entered the study, Savanna had known Micajah had already struck. Even without the note she had guessed the significance of the shattered brandy snifter on the carpet by Adam's desk, and the open window, the floor wet from the rain that had blown in by the storm. Her heart a leaden weight in her breast, she read Micajah's untidy scrawl.
In a dull voice, she muttered, "Have someone get me a horse. I'll have to change into riding gear, but I should be able to leave within the hour."
Bodene's mouth tightened. "Don't be a fool, Savanna! It's a trap and you know it." Taking a deep breath, he said as gently as possible, "He's probably already dead, my dear. Micajah is unlikely to have kept him alive."
Savanna's bright head jerked up at that and, her aquamarine eyes blazing, she spat, "Don't say that! I'll not listen. Adam is alive! He has to be!"
"All right," Bodene said harshly, "perhaps he is, but do you really think that Micajah is going to keep his word?" He grabbed her shoulders and shook her roughly. "It's a trap, Savanna! You cannot ride coolly into Micajah's camp."
Savanna's chin jutted at a stubborn angle, causing Bodene to swear and try another tactic. "If Adam is still alive," he said sharply, "the only thing that is keeping him alive is the fact that Micajah doesn't have you. You give yourself to Micajah, and your husband is going to be dead within seconds. Think about that!"
Everything Bodene said made sense; she'd already come to those same terrifying conclusions herself, but she also knew that she had to take the risk: she had to try to save the man she loved. If Adam was alive. In order to preserve her own sanity, she had to believe that he was; she didn't let Bodene sway her. Bodene was motivated as much by cool logic as by a powerful instinct to protect her and Savanna knew that he would never let her follow Micajah's instructions. He would unwittingly further endanger Adam's life by coming up with another plan, one that would involve her remaining safely here at Campo de Verde while he rode off to save Adam. She smiled bitterly. The only problem with that plan was that Bodene had forgotten just how vicious and devious Micajah could be. Micajah would have figured on that eventuality and taken precautions, and Bodene and Adam would both die. The only chance Adam had was for her to go to Micajah. But first she had to prevent Bodene from stopping her....
Her gaze fell on the heavy crystal decanter on the corner of Adam's desk. Grimly she knew what she had to do at the first opportunity. Playing for time, she said reasonably, "Very well. What do you suggest?"
Bodene stared at her suspiciously. Savanna stared serenely back.
"If you're serious," he began slowly, "you can tell Jack and Toby to saddle up the horses and see that we have the necessary supplies."
She nodded. "Of course. Anything else?"
Still suspicious, but distracted by thoughts of how he was going to save Adam, Bodene glanced away. Bending over Adam's desk, he started to rummage around for some paper. "While you're doing that, I'll—'"
Having given herself no time to think, Savanna had snatched up the decanter and brought it down squarely on Bodene's head. He dropped like a stone, his big body sprawling on the floor in front of the desk.
"Oh, God, Bodene," she uttered miserably as she stared down at his limp body. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, but I can't let you stop me. Forgive me!"
Hoping fervently that he would suffer nothing worse than a headache when he awoke, Savanna glanced around for something with which to tie him up. Spying several pieces of tack lying near the door of the study, she pounced upon a pair of reins in the pile and quickly tied Bodene's feet and hands. His cravat made an excellent gag.
Wasting not a second more, she hurried from the room, stopping abruptly when she almost ran full tilt into Jack Mooney coming down the hall. Smiling artlessly, she inquired breathlessly, "Did you want to see Bodene or Adam?"
Jack nodded.
Her expression regretful, she murmured, "Oh, I'm sorry. I hope it's not important, but they asked me specifically to tell everyone that they don't want to be disturbed for a few hours. Could it wait?"
Jack shrugged. "Whatever Bodene says. Guess we'll just continue to patrol outside the house."
Savanna flashed him a dazzling smile. "Yes. That's an excellent idea."
Within minutes she had gathered up what she needed from her room and was on her way out of the house. Smiling charmingly at Toby, she walked down the broad steps and headed sedately to the barn, an innocuous basket under her arm. Once she was inside the building, her movements became frenetic as she saddled a horse and changed into the masculine clothing which she had concealed in the basket. Mindful of the patrolling men, she eased the horse out the back of the barn and stealthily led the animal into the encroaching wilderness. Nearly bursting with impatience, she mounted the horse the moment she felt safe, and together they plunged into the concealing undergrowth.
It was miles before she believed that she had managed to escape without an alarm being sounded. If she was lucky she would have a good two to three hour head start over Bodene, and if she was very lucky, he wouldn't kill her when he caught up with her.
She put Bodene's wrath out of her mind, and for the first time since she had walked into Adam's study today and realized that Micajah had captured him, she
gave the anguished fear that filled her soul free rein. Oh, God! she prayed fervently as her horse careened through the wilderness, please don't let Adam be dead. Please! It doesn't matter what happens to me. Let me save him!
The thought of Adam dead by Micajah's hand was unbearable, and Savanna was filled with bitter, acid regret for every misunderstanding, every harsh word they had ever exchanged. If only she could have a second chance! She'd do it differently.
Pride be damned! If she got him away from Micajah alive, she'd tell him that she loved him.
Savanna tried not to think of their parting yesterday, tried not to think that her last memory of him would be that savage, primitive mating. A tear trickled down her cheek. Would she ever know his touch again? Sweet or feral? Her heart twisted with anguish. He had to be alive! Knowing that if she was to rescue her husband she couldn't let terror rule her, after that one moment she shoved aside her fears and concentrated on ways to outwit Micajah. There was only one way into Gatorhead; there would be no element of surprise for her to use. She never doubted that Jeremy was in on this with Micajah, and she was certain that Jeremy would be positioned somewhere along the trail, ready with the cry of some wild bird or animal to warn Micajah of her approach to Gatorhead. Once she was past him, Jeremy would then close the trap behind her....
But what if she found Jeremy first? A ruthless expression crossed her lovely face. If she managed to disable Jeremy, and if part of Jeremy's purpose was also to alert Micajah of her presence, she would gain a measure surprise. Which left only Micajah.... She bit back a sob. And, pray God, Adam alive!
Heedless of the twisted vines and low-hanging tree limbs that clawed and slapped at her as her horse galloped pell-mell through the tangled wilderness, Savanna tore her thoughts away from any notion of Adam not being alive and focused once more on how she was going to rescue him. It wasn't likely, she admitted bleakly, that Micajah was just going to let her ride up to him—he'd know she would try to kill him. He'd also know that she would not surrender tamely to him unless she saw Adam... alive.
A tremulous smile curved her mouth. Adam was alive! Micajah would keep him so, she realized jubilantly, until he was certain she had fallen into his trap. She almost laughed out loud. Adam was alive!
But her joy faded when she acknowledged the insurmountable task before her. She had to get Micajah off guard and kill him before he could kill Adam.
No plan occurred to her as her mount continued its frenetic pace along the barely discernible trail, but just believing that Adam was still alive gave her a feeling of confidence. She'd find a way.
Dusk was beginning to fall as she approached the area near Gatorhead. Halting her horse, she stared about her. There was no sign of human passing, no sound to guide her, merely the silent, suffocating press of the swampy forest. She sat for several minutes, trying to remember all she could of the way in to Gatorhead, trying to remember where the lookouts had been stationed when she had come with Bodene. It was an eerie place where she had stopped, the waiting silence and a green, impenetrable wall of trees and foliage greeting her, the rapidly increasing shadows giving the area an ominous air.
She took a deep, steadying breath. She had to go on afoot. She had to find Jeremy. Her face set, she dismounted and tied her horse to a small sapling.
Thoughtfully she examined the only weapon that in her haste she'd been able to bring with her: the stiletto Bodene had given her when she was ten years old. The dagger was small, the blade slender and tapering, but she knew of old the damage it could cause, and without further thought, she gripped it expertly. Pausing a moment longer to undo some rawhide straps from her saddle to take with her, she melted into the wilderness.
As silent as a stalking tigress, Savanna glided back and forth across the animal trail that would end at Gatorhead, every sense alert for danger. She moved with stealth, but Jeremy was so well hidden in a thicket of young willows and wild vines that she almost stumbled across him.
Heart slamming into her ribs, she froze, the murky mauve shadows of impending nightfall making her task even harder. But as she half crouched behind a big water oak, her eyes straining to pierce the shadows, she realized that the hump some three feet before her had a distinctly human shape. Jeremy!
She swallowed. The palms of her hands were suddenly damp and sweaty. Though she had been prepared to, she had never killed a man before, and she wasn't certain she could do it now. She swallowed again, the taste of bile rising in her throat. Jeremy had to be silenced; she could not let him cry out and warn Micajah. She glanced around, searching for anything that could be used for a club, anything that would knock him out and allow her to gag and tie him up, but in the gloom she could find nothing. Jeremy would have to die, yet she quailed at the thought.
She reminded herself that Adam's life depended upon her. She had to do it. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and before she could think twice about it, was upon Jeremy. Her knife flashed once, and with a soft groan, he slumped to the ground.
In horrified fascination, she stared at his still body, nausea roiling in her stomach. Gagging, she stumbled away, intent on getting her horse. A few minutes later she rode past the willow thicket, her eyes averted.
Not allowing herself to think about Jeremy, she halted her horse some ten yards farther along the trail, her entire focus on a way to outwit Micajah and free her husband. Micajah was not likely to let her ride right up to him, and she remembered enough about Gatorhead to realize that there was no way for her to sneak up on him as she had done with Jeremy.
She couldn't surprise Micajah. Nor could she trick him. The instant she appeared, not having heard any warning from Jeremy, he'd know that she had eliminated his partner and that she was not going to let him win without a fight. She bit her lip. So how was she going to get close enough to him to kill him?
Savanna sat there as the night deepened and the moon rose bright and full in the black sky, her thoughts racing like a rat in a trap, trying to anticipate just what Micajah would do. He would, she deduced, make her dismount and get away from her horse. He'd also want to make certain that she carried no weapons before he let her get near him. But how would he do that? Make her strip at gunpoint?
She grimaced. It was possible. So, if she was standing there naked as the day she was born, where was she going to hide a weapon?
Unwittingly she toyed with her hair, which was fastened in a thick braid across her shoulder. A second or two passed before she became aware of the silky strands beneath her fingers, and when she did, she sucked in her breath in excitement.
A feral grin slanted across her lips. Swiftly she undid the fiery braid and spread her hair out across her shoulder. Taking the stiletto, she wiped it clean of Jeremy's blood and carefully fastened it beneath the tumbling, wavy mass with six strands of hair. It was going to hurt when she jerked the knife free, but that pain would be negligible, and if it would save Adam, she'd allow herself to be scalped.
Certain the stiletto was well hidden, yet accessible in an instant, she urged her horse toward the rendezvous with Micajah. In a moment she would know if she had read the situation right, and she offered up a passionate prayer that she would find the man she loved alive.
The glow of firelight alerted her to the fact that she had finally arrived at Gatorhead. Her heart in her stomach, she checked the dagger once more and then guided her horse forward.
She'd traveled only a short distance when Micajah said, "You can stop right there."
Savanna did so, sitting regally in the saddle, her gaze deceptively cool as she glanced around. The fire was burning cheerfully, but it was the sight of Adam, Adam alive, standing on a three-foot-high block of wood, that sent a flood of joy rushing through her. He was alive!
He was more than a hundred feet in front of her, the base of the block of wood actually resting in a couple of inches of the swampy water near the shore, but hungrily her eyes ran over him, noting with a pang the dark, haggard look on his beloved face, the wild disarray of his th
ick black hair. He was also, she realized with a painful thump of her heart, in immediate danger of becoming alligator bait, the significance of the placement of the block of wood and the several pairs of fire-red eyes in the water just behind it dawning on her. Even without Jeremy to warn him, Micajah must have sensed her approach and set the horrifying scene before her.
Adam, looking so worn and dear, was bound hand and foot, totally defenseless as he stood there on that narrow block of wood, staring back at her through the flickering light of the fire. A rope had been tied around the block, near the base, the remainder of the rope snaking along the ground until it disappeared into the shadows beyond the fire. Micajah was not in sight, but Savanna had no doubt that he was holding the end of the rope, and that if she made one false move, the rope would be jerked and Adam would go tumbling into the water and the gaping maw of one of the alligators whose eyes gleamed in the darkness.
Hiding the fear that clutched at her, she tried to pierce the darkness where she knew Micajah waited. Frantically she debated several courses of action, but none of her inward turbulence was apparent as she said coolly, "Get him off there, Micajah. I'm not coming any closer unless I know you're not going to feed him to the gators."
Aided by the light of the full moon, Adam watched her closely, memorizing her lovely face, his heart aching in his chest. He had hoped and prayed that she would not come, but he couldn't deny that if he was to die, he was grateful for one last sight of her. She looked magnificent as she sat there on her horse, ramrod-straight, her chin held proudly and the firelight turning her hair into a blazing mass of fiery waves. His own fate was sealed, and while he didn't fear dying, the ugly knowledge that she would end up in Micajah's hands made him strain once more against his bonds, heedless of the fact that the block rocked perilously with every desperate move he made. Savanna had to be saved. He had to make her leave him before it was too late!
Never ceasing his struggles, his sapphire-blue eyes glittering fiercely in the firelight, Adam said grimly, "You've wasted your time, sweetheart. He means to kill me, no matter what you do. Get the hell out of here!"
Each Time We Love Page 36