by Unknown
He bent his head and nudged her nose playfully with his own, grinning now. "What a good, obedient child you are." Briefly, his lips met hers and clung before, slowly, they parted. He nudged her soft cheek then, moved to her ear, and nipped gently at her ear lobe. "A sweet, tender young morsel," he murmured lazily.
He lifted his head, his gray eyes glinting with kindled fire, though both amusement and self-depreciation lingered there as well. "I wonder I didn't think to rob the cradle sooner." He moved his hand, very deliberately, to cup her breast, watching the strawberry pink tip pucker and stand erect at his attentions, before his gaze met hers once more. "I would . . . ." He broke off, stiffening at a slight rustle of sound.
Danielle, who'd begun to feel a very pleasant warmth stealing over her to oust the lingering chill of her fright, stiffened as well and felt her face heat at the venomous chuckle that broke the sudden silence.
"Does it add a little spice? Perhaps I should try it myself?"
Adrian sat up abruptly, shielding Danielle from Lavinia's view. Fury surged through him at the interruption, the intrusion, the mockery in her voice that struck the chords of his own doubts. "Why not?" he said coldly. "You've tried everything else, have you not?"
Lavinia gasped in shocked outrage and slapped him. He made no attempt to stop her. That much was evident when she swung at him the second time. He caught her wrist mid-air, without apparent effort. "One slap per insult, if you please, madam."
Lavinia jerked free, rubbing her wrist. "That was uncalled for!"
Adrian's eyes narrowed. "On the contrary, as I recall, you asked for it most specifically."
Lavinia flushed in anger and chagrin. "No gentleman would insult a lady in such a way!"
Adrian lifted a dark brow, a hint of amusement creeping into his gray eyes. "No? But then, I confess, I'm not much of a gentleman, and . . . ." He shrugged, leaving the implication clear, though he left the sentence hanging as he heard the others approaching. "Any sign of Tom?"
Captain Tyler shook his head. "I think the poor blighter's done for. Though I suppose we should look a bit longer before we give up on him. Devilish thing to leave him alone in this God forsaken place if he did make it ashore. The gel all right?"
Danielle, who'd been studiously hiding behind Adrian, trying to wring the water from her clinging almost transparent shirt, sat forward abruptly and peered at the captain. "Tom didn't make it out? But he was just there."
Adrian turned to give her a level look. "He sank like a rock when the raft came apart. If he ever came back up, I didn't see it. We'll look, of course, but . . . ." He shrugged and stood up, helping Danielle to her feet. "I'm going to look for my boots first."
"But Ad . . . my lord! We've got to look for Tom first!"
"If he made it ashore, he'll be looking for us. If he didn't, there's nothing we can do for him now. And I'll damn well not go on without making an attempt to find my boots!" Adrian finished irritably, flushing with discomfort as his eyes moved to Danielle's feet. He turned away from her and started back towards the point where he'd come ashore with Lavinia, where the raft had begun to disintegrate, dropping his boots in the drink. With the best will in the world, he could do nothing about Danielle's lack of shoes. And she, at least, was accustomed to going barefoot. He wasn't.
Nor did he intend to beat his breast over the loss of Tom. Or apologize that he'd failed to save him as well. The choice had been between going after Tom or saving Danielle. It had really been no choice at all.
Amazingly, he found one boot with his very first dive. The other proved difficult. He'd been diving and resting for brief periods for well over an hour before he discovered the illusive mate. He trudged ashore with it, weary but triumphant.
It was well into the afternoon by then, and still there was no sign of Tom, though both Bull and Captain Tyler had searched for him, making their way down river for well over a mile. They had, however, spotted a small party of Spanish soldiers and Red Indians.
That intelligence was sufficient to induce them to press onwards without further ado, though Lavinia had been, for some time, trying to persuade the group to settle by the river for the night. Darkness caught them before they found another fresh water supply. And, as they'd been too busy putting as much distance as possible between themselves and the Spanish to spare the time to search for food either, they spent the most entirely miserable night they'd had to date in their reluctant adventures. Although everyone, without exception, was miserable, Lavinia was more miserable, the most verbally miserable, grumbling well into the night until Bull threatened to throttle her if she didn't shut her mouth.
Danielle had long since become inured to her complaints and paid her very little heed. Her mind was well occupied recounting those precious stolen moments with Adrian before Lavinia, with her poisonous tongue, had come upon them.
She grew heavy lidded with her ponderings, and sleep swam up to greet her. But her last thought before sleep wasn't of Adrian at all. It was about the Red Indians Bull and Captain Tyler had seen earlier in the day. She had always been fascinated by the tales she'd heard of them and wondered what they looked like.
Chapter Twenty
Much of the next day was spent searching for the trail that had brought them along the first leg of their travels, or one like it leading north. There was speculation that they'd missed it in their hurry to leave the Spanish and their Indian allies behind the day before, but no one wanted to go back to prove the theory, and so they continued on, almost to the mouth of the St. Johns once more. There, at last, they came upon it near dusk, and shortly afterwards saw the palisades of Fort St. George.
It had been abandoned six years earlier in the summer of 1736 when Oglethorpe, to avoid territorial conflict with the Spanish, had agreed to withdraw across the St. Marys. It looked as if it had been abandoned much longer. However, it was shelter of sorts, and, since it was nearly dusk, Adrian left them and went in to investigate. He returned some time later with the intelligence that it was as deserted as it appeared, and as ramshackle, but that one structure remained that was fairly habitable.
Captain Tyler and Lavinia were selected to make it more habitable, since they were virtually useless for anything else. Bull was sent to collect firewood. Adrian, after a brief argument with Lavinia, commandeered two of her precious hair pins and, with Danielle, set off in search of food.
They set snares first, in hopes of catching a couple of rabbits, for they'd had nothing more substantial than berries for nearly two days. The inevitable berries came next, but though they looked until the light was nearly gone, they found only a meager offering. Those Danielle tied up carefully in the square of cloth she apparently carried for just that purpose, and they proceeded from there to the riverbank. Here Danielle uncovered the mystery of the hair pins.
She looked at Adrian blankly for several moments after he demanded the rope belt she wore, but she didn't argue. With a fatalistic shrug, she untied it and handed it to him. Her breeches promptly slid half way down her hips.
Adrian paused in the act of taking the rope from her, his eyes riveted to her breeches as if he was waiting with suspended breath to see if they would complete their downward trek. In a moment, however, the look of anticipation vanished. A slight frown replaced it as he allowed his gaze to move over her, his look speculative now.
She'd lost weight, he noticed with a pang of regret and a painful tightening in his chest he finally realized was anxiety. She looked very nearly as fragile as she had when he'd first found her.
She hitched her breeches up self-consciously, and he transferred his frowning attention to the rope in his hands as he took his knife and carefully cut through its tarred ends. That done, he separated several lengths of sisal, handed Danielle back a much more narrow length of rope, and took those pieces he'd separated and began to tie them together. Finished, it formed a short, knotted cord. He could've wished for a somewhat longer cord, but it was obvious Danielle's need for it couldn't
be ignored.
Taking one of Lavinia's hair pins from his pocket, he carefully bent it into the shape of a hook and tied it to one end of the line. Danielle looked up from securing her tie belt once more just as he finished.
"Fish!" she exclaimed in pleased surprise.
Adrian's smile was wry. "We can hope, at any rate."
"Oh, you'll catch some," Danielle replied with such absolute faith that Adrian's amusement deepened into a grin.
"We'll have to find bait first -- worms or slugs or crickets. Let's hope we can while there's still light enough to see."
"Ugh!" was Danielle's only comment, but she helped him search willingly enough.
They found a gold mine of fish bait beneath the fourth rock they overturned, only to realize, to their consternation, that they had nothing to carry their bait in. Danielle studied the disgusting, wriggling insects with loathing. "I suppose I could hold them for you," she said doubtfully.
Adrian took one look at her face and chuckled. Reaching up, he flicked the tip of her nose playfully and tousled her coppery curls with careless affection. "Such a sacrifice won't be necessary." He reached into his pocket then and withdrew his handkerchief, captured a cricket and two enormous earthworms and tied them up in a neat little package. Capturing a fourth insect, he baited his makeshift hook and started down the bank to the river.
Danielle settled herself beside him companionably when he'd found a likely looking spot and studied the water before them with apparent absorption. Silence settled between them, unbroken except for the gentle lap of the water against the riverbank, the night time choir of frogs and crickets, and the growl of Danielle's stomach.
After the third low snarl, Adrian cursed under his breath. "Eat some berries, Danny." He didn't look at her, but he sensed the startled look she sent him at the harshness of his voice. He'd embarrassed her, too. He was sorry for it.
"I can wait," she muttered under her breath, looking away from him at last. "We'll all eat soon."
Adrian gritted his teeth and sought patience. "Eat," he ordered, finding none. "You look like a brisk wind could blow you away now. At this rate, there'll be nothing left of you but skin and bones by the time we reach Fort Frederica."
He refused to acknowledge the hurt look she gave him, staring stubbornly at the fish line where it disappeared into the river. He knew she thought he was angry with her and was puzzled by it, as well she might be since she'd done nothing to earn it. But he had no desire to explain that his anger was directed at himself, because he had only to look at her to see that he was failing miserably at taking care of her. Or that he felt a near desperate sense of panic at the thought of what might happen to her in the next few weeks if he didn't learn how to cope with their situation better. What point, he wondered, in telling her his ignorance and inexperience gave him a sense of helplessness that chafed him near unbearably?
He was aware of her though, every expression that flitted across her face, every movement. He relaxed fractionally when she dropped the bundle of berries on her lap, carefully untied it, and popped a berry in her mouth, chewing slowly. She ate a small handful in the silence of abject misery, retied the bundle, and carefully set it aside. She cleared her throat uncomfortably. "Perhaps I should go check on the snares?"
"It's too dark for you to go alone. I'll try this a bit longer, and if nothing bites, then we'll go check the snares together."
She pulled her knees up against her chest, huddling in a tight little ball, as if to make herself invisible. "Maybe I'll just go on back to camp?" she suggested after several moments had passed.
Adrian cursed under his breath, reached down to tie the line to a shrub, and hauled her across his lap, giving her a hard squeeze before settling her into a more comfortable embrace. "I believe," he murmured musingly, "I like it better when you yell and curse at me. Will it make you feel better if I say I'm sorry?"
Danielle sniffed and nodded but volunteered no verbal answer.
"You're not going to cry are you?"
He sounded so appalled at the idea Danielle couldn't forbear a watery chuckle. She shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. She felt like crying. She felt like bawling her head off. It was awful enough being hungry again when she'd just gotten used to being fed on a regular basis. But to be told she looked as awful as she felt was ten times worse. Small wonder he didn't want her any more.
She dwelt on her morbid reflections for a time, but it was hard to remain hurt and depressed when Adrian was being so kind as to hold her. He really was kind, most of the time. And it occurred to her after a bit to wonder if maybe he'd want her again once they got some place where she could eat enough to fill out to a more appealing shape again. And she thought that he might. He had before, after all. The problem was, she didn't know if he would keep her around that long. If she knew that, then she'd know whether there was any use in holding out some hope or if it would be better to try to accustom herself to the idea of belonging to someone else.
"My lord?"
"Mmmm?"
"I was just wondering."
"What?"
Danielle took a deep, shuddering breath and took the plunge. "Were you going to sell me at Fort Frederica or are you going to wait till we get to Charles Town?"
She felt him stiffen. He pushed her away, and even in the dim light she could see that he was blazingly angry. She blinked at him in stunned surprise, feeling a stab of fear. Never could she remember seeing him so furious. Her mind went perfectly blank.
"I ought to beat you," he said through gritted teeth.
"What?" she cried, appalled at his sudden anger, her mind scrambling madly to figure out what she'd done to bring it about.
He merely glared at her in tight-lipped silence.
It had to be the question, she decided finally. There was nothing else. But to save her life, she couldn't figure out why it had made him so angry. "I only asked," she said stiffly.
He gave her a little shake and set her away from him. Drawing his knees up, he scrubbed his face with his hands, raked his fingers through his hair, and finally propped his arms on his knees, staring stonily at the river. "What kind of man do you think I am?"
Danielle stared at him in consternation. Well, there was her answer, or part of it. Somehow or another she'd managed to wound his masculine pride. Jiminey! But it was hard to get any where around a man without stepping on the thing! Of course, she supposed the question was rhetorical, but she had to say something, think of something to soothe the injury she'd unwittingly inflicted. She licked her dust dry lips when he slid her a cold look, but he spoke again before she could decide what to say.
"Do you really think I'd sell you into servitude to someone else now?"
She felt a bolt of relief shoot through her. "You mean you'll wait a bit? Look," she hurried on because he looked like he really was considering beating her, "I don't fault you for havin' to or nothin', if that's what you thought. I know you can't keep me. And you need your money. It's just . . . I could tell you was thinkin' about how scrawny I've gotten . . . ."
Adrian cursed under his breath. "Shut up, Danny."
She lapsed into silence, and a prolonged, uncomfortable quiet ensued. "I think your cricket drowned. He's stopped wigglin'," she observed after a time.
Adrian reached for the line and drew it out of the water. An enormous fish, more than a foot long, flopped at the end, trying to hop off the line and back into the water. They studied it with an amazing lack of interest for several moments before Adrian stood and went to retrieve it. When he'd gigged it on a forked branch, he baited the hook and tossed it into the river again.
Danielle studied the gasping, wriggling fish with a rather distant sympathy. She could remember far too well what it felt like to try to breathe the unbreathable. If it hadn't been for Adrian . . . .
She dropped her chin on her knees, watching the little tunnel she was digging with her big toe in the dirt with apparent absorption. She hated i
t when Adrian got angry with her, when he went all stiff and cold and silent on her. She would have rather he'd beat her instead, much rather. She couldn't stand it! "What ever it was I said, well, I didn't mean what you thought I meant," she said carefully.
The silence between them stretched for so long that she thought he would ignore her attempt at an apology. "But you don't know what it was that you said?"
She bit her lip. The implication was obvious. If she didn't know what she'd said, then she couldn't very well have any idea of what she'd implied that had insulted him. So any apology was pointless. She sighed gustily. "It's just that I was thinking, once I filled out some and wasn't so . . . ." She let her voice trail off and shrugged. "Never mind," she muttered. "I didn't mean to make you angry, that's all."
Adrian studied her slumped shoulders and felt the anger he'd been nursing slowly fade. It was irrational, he realized now, to feel so furiously angry and hurt simply because Danielle had taken him at his word, unquestioningly. He could complain all day long that she ought to have known things had changed between them, but the fact remained that he hadn't told her any differently. He really had no right to quibble that she hadn't figured out which way the wind was blowing. Particularly when he had to acknowledge that he didn't know himself.
He'd long since discarded the notion of selling her papers of indenture to someone else. But he hadn't yet figured out what he would do with her beyond a vague idea that he would settle her comfortably somehow. He only knew two things for certain. He couldn't sell her to someone else, and he couldn't simply set her free and turn her loose to get on the best way she knew how. He had to make some sort of provisions for her. And, it was because of his uncertainty of an acceptable alternative that he hadn't disabused Danielle's mind of his first asinine solution.