Lynna's Beau (Tropical Paradise Series Book 2)

by Kitty Margo

  “That was her intention, Lynna.” Leaning forward he took her filthy hand and massaged the palm with his thumb before lifting his eyes to her tearstained face. “She visited the voodoo woman on the plantation and purchased a curse or spell or whatever they sell and she has been poisoning you.”

  “I can’t believe it,” Lynna cried, unable to comprehend that she had allowed Suzanne to make a fool of her, yet again. “Are you sure?”

  “No, I’m not one hundred percent certain if that was what caused your sickness or if it really was childbed fever, but either way Suzanne wanted you dead and would go to any lengths to accomplish it. And your dream or vision, proves she is not finished with you yet.” Sean shook his head and placed her hand back on the bed. “She wants you dead, Lynna. If you have a desire to continue living you will stay as far away from her as humanly possible.”

  Lynna was having trouble accepting what he was telling her as fact. All along she had thought Suzanne had changed. Why, she had handed Beau off to her many times when she herself was too tired to hold him. Could what Sean was telling her be true? She thought back to the last time she had seen Suzanne. “If what you say is true, Suzanne had to be in on my abduction for she delivered me to your ship.”

  “Yes, Lynna.” He felt bile rising in his throat again from the unbearable smell in the room. “She was.”

  “But I don’t understand.” Lynna brought a quivering hand to massage her temple, trying to force her mind to clear. “Why would she go to the trouble of bringing me to you when they had already given me up for dead?”

  “In order for my cloak and dagger scheme to work, I had to concoct a believable tale and convince her that I was taking you to a man on one of the islands who enjoys… abusing women for sport.” He noticed her flinch at the prospect of such a horrible fate. “I’m sorry, Lynna. I know you thought she was your friend.”

  Lynna closed her eyes as hot tears slid down her cheeks, wincing in pain as the salty liquid burned the sores on her face. She had been such a fool. “You saved my life, didn’t you, Sean?”

  “You could say that.” The poor girl looked so disheartened, ready to wash her hands of life in general. What could he say to give her the will to live again? “Now, it’s time to rise up and greet a new day. You have your entire future ahead of you, Lynna. You will be safe on the island where Suzanne cannot get to you and, down the road when you are well again, you may wish to visit your son.”

  “Beau,” Lynna whispered around a lump in her throat. Tears filled her eyes and shimmered on her lashes. She didn’t have the strength to even lift him from his cradle. Her milk had dried up. What good was she to her son? What could she offer him? Nothing. “He is better off without me and I know he is being well cared for by his family.”

  As she gazed at Sean she was reminded of his brother, the man she had once been married to. “Did Michael survive the sinking ship, also?”

  “No, he did not.” Sean’s eyes clouded over and took on a pained, faraway look. “No one from the ship survived, except you and me.”

  Lynna opened her mouth to inform him that Rob had also survived the sinking ship, but something stopped her at the last minute.

  “I was alone in the water for days.” He motioned toward the whitecaps beginning to build under a steady wind. “I cannot begin to explain to you what a man goes through out there in the middle of the ocean, alone. No food. Surrounded by water, yet not a drop of fresh water to quench the never ending thirst that is slowly driving you insane.”

  “Day after day, hour after hour, minute after interminable minute. Nothing but salt water as far as the eye can see. Nights were the worst. I held on to a piece of floating debris that was not strong enough to support my weight, so I was tense and alert at all times, waiting to feel a shark sink his razor sharp teeth into my flesh.” He again scrubbed his hands over his face. “I was to the point of slitting my own wrist so the sharks would relieve me of my misery when a ship passed close enough to rescue me.”

  He swept a hand across his brow as if hoping to sweep away the memory. “You see, I had long since given up hope of being found alive. That changes a person, Lynna. In ways you cannot imagine.” Drawing a deep breath, he exhaled slowly before continuing. “I don’t have the words to describe to you what it’s like to be left alone in the middle of the vast ocean, but at some point in the middle of the night as I rode the swells and millions of stars twinkled overhead I came to a life altering decision.” Closing his eyes, Sean was quiet for several seconds. “For days I had been waiting and wondering whether I would die by drowning or being eaten by a shark. That’s when I made a pact with God.”

  “What was the pact, Sean?” Lynna whispered.

  “I swore that if I came out of that nightmare alive I would change my ways, that I would no longer make a living from the misery of others.” He shook his head as if trying to rid his mind of memories too horrible to imagine. “I remained true to the pact and took my plunder and bought a merchant vessel. Now I deal in legal trade.”

  “Kidnapping is not exactly a legal trade, Sean.”

  “You are the exception,” he was quick to point out. “In truth, I took you to spare your life. I would not have been able to face myself in the mirror every morning had I allowed Suzanne to murder you.” He leaned toward her, holding her face to gaze into her eyes and Lynna saw the desire, banked, at least for the time being. “If my memory serves me correctly, we made a deal just before my ship sank. I held up my end of the bargain. I would hope that it is your intention to honor your end as well. When you have recovered, of course.”

  His plans involved a robust and healthy Lynna. Not a shell of the woman she had been a year ago.

  Chapter 12

  When Joshua opened his eyes again, after an unknown span of time, it was dark inside the cabin, the only light coming from a few dying coals in the fireplace. The fire had gone out and he shivered in the early morning air, tugging the quilt up to his neck. He noticed the girl lying on a pallet in front of the fireplace and hoped she would soon awaken and toss a log on the embers. In an attempt to change positions and see her more clearly he tried to roll to his side, yet the pain was so excruciating it forced him to remain where he was vowing to never again even consider moving his body again.

  Turning his head he was able to gaze out the window to see bare tree limbs silhouetted against a starry sky and frost glittering around the edge of the glass. It must be winter now. The last thing he remembered was attending a meeting at Cedar Hill in mid September. But for the life of him, he could not remember what had happened in the interim?

  Suddenly, a strange stuttering noise seemingly extremely close to his eardrum startled him, almost causing him to jump out of bed, which in truth wasn’t even a possibility in his current condition. What was that God awful racket and why was it so close? He held his breath and listened closely realizing that the staccato ruckus occurred at evenly spaced intervals. It almost sounded like someone snoring?

  Was the young girl snoring? As he continued to listen it reminded him of a more mature snoring, not at all something that could possibly emanate from the cute young lady with freckles scattered across the bridge of her dainty nose like his sister Malinda. Slowly turning his head to the side he was stunned to discover that he had a bedmate. Only a head was showing above the covers, a head with snowy white hair. He felt a moment of guilt realizing he had obviously taken the young girls spot in bed thereby relegating her to sleep on the floor. He would gladly give her spot back… if only he could move. He would rest a bit and ask questions when he wasn’t quite so tired.

  Days later, Joshua awoke to the sound of… was that grunting he kept hearing? Opening his eyes he found the young girl holding a cup of water to his lips. He opened his mouth, taking long gulps of the cool liquid before forcing his eyes to focus on her. She was an attractive child, even though she had a slightly unkempt appearance. A tumbled mass of strawberry blonde curls cascaded down her shoulders in natural ringlets and
the child possessed the most exquisite blue eyes, eyes that you could almost see clear through. The dress she wore had been patched numerous times, but it was clean, as was the child. She smiled brightly for Joshua’s benefit then turned her head as her cheeks suffused with color.

  “Good morning,” he thought he said, but wasn’t at all sure the jumble of words coming out of his mouth was a coherent thought. Evidently, they weren’t, for the young girl failed to reply. She only grunted. He would try once more to strike up a conversation with the shy child. “Could you please tell me where I am?” he croaked.

  Nothing.

  “Has a cat got your tongue?” he teased. Evidently she had never heard the old adage because she glanced toward the aging cat lounging in front of the fireplace with narrowed eyes, causing the hair on the animal’s spine to rise. Joshua chuckled, then gasped and grabbed his chest against the pain that immediately flared out in all directions, wishing desperately that he could douse the flames he had unwittingly ignited in his lungs.

  After several minutes had passed and he thought he could speak again without ripping something loose, he asked, “What is your name?” There was complete silence, as she blinked huge blue eyes at him. It was obvious that his attempt at conversation was going nowhere fast.

  “She can’t talk,” came a weathered voice from the corner. “Born that way.”

  Surprised, Joshua turned his head to focus on the owner of the voice. He could make out white hair, a bent body, and a hand steadily churning butter. She, evidently, was his bedmate.

  “Ain’t we a pair?” The old crone laughed heartily. “I can’t see too good and she can’t talk, but we get by. My granddaughter Clara found you in a gully and lucky for you she did. Shot clear through with a big ole hole in your chest, you was. You done been there a couple of days when she found you lying in a dried up pool of your own blood.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t see how anybody could live after losing so much blood. Somebody upstairs was surely watching over you, I guarantee you that.” She glanced back to the butter she was churning. “I ain’t sure how much blood a body holds, but I do know yours was just about empty.”

  “I was shot?” Joshua forced the gravelly words through dry, cracked lips.

  “Yep, and only by the grace of God did the bullet miss your heart. I told Clara you was one step away from meeting your maker and the only decent thing would be to start digging your grave. She wouldn’t hear of it.” She threw back her head and cackled until tears rolled down her cheeks, slapping her hands on her thighs. “No sirree! That child throwed a fit the likes of which I ain’t never seen before. Carrying on something awful she was, stomping her feet and shaking her head and slinging her arms every which way and all the while grunting something under her breath that I was probably better off not knowing what she was thinking. Marched back here and got the wagon herself, she did.”

  Clara ducked her head shyly and peeked up at Joshua with rosy cheeks.

  The old woman dried the tears streaming down her wrinkled face and lifted the lid to stick her finger in the churn and judge the progress of her butter. “Clara has been spoon feeding you, and cleaning your wound, and applying a special poultice. She had also changed the dressing twice a day since she brung you here.”

  “How long have I been here?” Joshua whispered in his scratchy voice.

  Clara grunted and held up both hands opening her fists ten times and then holding up seven fingers.

  “One hundred and seven days?” he gasped, incredulously. That was impossible! That would mean it was early January. “You must be mistaken! I couldn’t have possibly been here that long. Knowing my parents and my wife as I do, I’m sure they’ve had search parties and the sheriff and every able bodied person in the county looking for me.”

  Clara shook her head adamantly, on the verge of being insulted. True, she could not cipher the letters of the alphabet, but she could count as good as anybody.

  “One hundred and seven days? Over three months! Unbelievable!” Joshua simply could not grasp the notion that he had been unconscious for so long. What personal hell must Lynna be living thinking him dead? He had to find a way to get back home to her. “Have we celebrated the new year yet?”

  “Yes, a couple weeks ago. And as for why your family ain’t found you, that’s because we are at least ten miles from our closest neighbor. We’re so far from town that nobody ever comes through our neck of the woods.”

  Dear God! What had happened at Sea Grove while he had lain in bed unconscious for over three months? Had Lynna delivered his child yet? His poor mother! How would she be holding up thinking her only son was dead? His father and sister would be worried sick. He had to go to them, but first he had to get out of bed no matter how much excruciating pain it caused to pulse through every nerve in his body. There was no other choice.

  Bracing both elbows on the mattress, he attempted to push his body up, but the pain that tore throughout his torso stunned him so that he fell back on the bed clutching his chest against an almost unbearable agony.

  Raising a trembling hand to wipe the sweat streaming from his brow, his voice was just above a whisper and the effort to speak left him gasping for his next breath. “My wife… I must go to her. She would have delivered our first child by now.” Joshua noticed a sparkle in Clara’s eyes when he mentioned that Lynna was expecting a child.

  “You ain’t ready to get up yet,” The old woman only confirmed what he already knew. “It’s going to be awhile ‘fore you can get out of that bed and go home to your wife.” She paused in her steady churning and turned sideways to look at him. “Where is your home anyway? You was dressed mighty fancy to be from around these parts.”

  “Sea Grove, a cotton plantation outside Charleston.” Joshua wheezed, gripping his ribs against the pain. “Perhaps you… have heard of it.”

  “Can’t say as I have. But you are a good piece from Charleston. I ain’t never been there, but near as I can figure it’s several days ride south of here.

  “So, we are in upstate South Carolina?”

  “Yep, only a few miles from North Carolina, in fact.”

  “How did I get so far from home?” He wondered aloud trying to focus and remember… anything. “What happened to me?”

  “Whoever shot you didn’t aim for you to be found and must have took you a long way from home before dumping your body in that gully.”

  “Shot me?” Joshua put a shaky hand to his forehead in an effort to clear his bewildered mind. Who would shoot him? Surely it was accidental? He had to have been set upon by highwaymen. No! Suddenly, it was all crystal clear! Suzanne!

  He remembered the day vividly, recalling the hard, calculating gleam in Suzanne’s eyes as she had stood over him watching his life’s blood bubble from his chest and seep into the dry earth around him. He would remember her evil, satisfied smirk as long as he lived.

  Forcing thoughts of Suzanne from his mind, Joshua turned to Clara, taking her calloused hand with its chipped and broken fingernails tenderly in his. The girl had obviously done her share of physical labor in her young life. “Thank you for being so hard headed, Clara. I owe you my life and you have my heartfelt gratitude.”

  Clara held his hand and glanced at the old woman with a timid smile. Releasing his hand she turned to her grandmother, cradling her arms as if she were holding a baby. Her grandmother smiled lovingly. “She wants you to tell her about the baby. I ain’t never seen a child loves babies like my Clara does.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t know much to tell.” Disgusted with himself for being unable to lift his body off the bed and go to his wife and child, Joshua fell back making his head swim dizzily. It was a few minutes before he could focus again. “Lynna has to think me dead to have stayed away so long.” Trying to raise up on his elbows again, he felt Clara’s hands on his arms gently pushing him back down.

  Lucille smiled patiently. “Clara has the healing touch. She knows you ain’t ready to get up, yet. You wouldn’t beli
eve how many sick animals that child has nursed back to health. So you just lay back down and let her tend to your wound and when she’s done you can be on your way. You won’t be any good to anybody if you open that wound again.”

  She was right, although he didn’t have to like it. “May I ask your name?”

  “Lucille Harper. And yours?”

  “Joshua Jordan. I owe both you ladies a debt of gratitude.” He smiled at Clara, squeezing the hand that he still held. Nodding sleepily, he added with a wide yawn, “And I always pay my debts.”

  It didn’t take long for Joshua and Clara to devise a means of communicating by rudimentary hand gestures, eye contact, and having her grandmother speak for her. Clara had never been taught to read and write, it would have been difficult at best with her grandmother’s vision being so poor, but she was a quick study. She understood that Joshua’s home was Sea Grove, just outside Charleston, South Carolina and he had a child and a grieving wife there who most likely thought he was dead.

  Chapter 13

  Let’s get you cleaned up, Lynna,” Sean instructed in a tone of voice normally reserved for his crew. He was expecting resistance, if not out right mutiny from the invalid in his bed. “And a change of bedding since this room positively reeks. Then I will have some broth sent up to see if your stomach will accept it.”

  Lynna gave him a look that would have curdled milk, but Sean was as good as his word and leaving the room with a determined grin, returned shortly carrying a brass tub. After several trips to the galley for hot water the tub was full.

  Even though Lynna held up a weak hand to halt his progress toward her, even going so far as to forbid him from touching her, Sean stripped off her night rail, unceremoniously lifted her from the soiled bed, and with more tenderness and care than she would ever have imagined him capable of, lowered her into the soothing water.