Lynna's Beau (Tropical Paradise Series Book 2)

by Kitty Margo

  It could have been a minute or an hour later when she felt something cool on her forehead. Lynna opened her eyes to see Mister Juarez holding a damp cloth against her heated skin. “See if this helps.”

  It did. She closed her eyes for a few minutes until Sean urged her to take a sip of water. Helping her to sit up, he held her steady while Mister Juarez brought a dipper of refreshing spring water to her lips. She smiled at him gratefully and whispered, “Thank you.”

  “Are you feeling better now?” he asked, with a worried frown causing the lines on either side his eyes to crinkle.

  “Yes.” The blinding pain had almost passed and though still weak she was able to sit up. “Much better. I don’t know what happened. It came on me so sudden. Almost like someone had a knife jabbing it into the side of my head repeatedly.”

  Her words caught Mister Juarez’s attention. He knew that pain and remembered it well. In his younger days, a jealous lover had put a curse on him and it was a pain he would never forget.

  Patting her on the arm, concern etched his forehead. “You don’t have an enemy who would put a curse on you, do you, Lynna?” Some folks didn’t believe in obeah, but he knew better.

  A nerve shivered along Sean’s temple as he peered into Lynna’s questioning eyes then turned to Mister Juarez. “What do you know about curses?”

  Mister Juarez harrumphed. “I know they work, that’s all I need to know.”

  Sean hurled a string of oaths. Damn Suzanne! Even though he wasn’t a firm believer in voodoo, Sean had a sinking suspicion that Suzanne was behind this latest incident. Something had to be done to stop these debilitating episodes from attacking Lynna without warning. “Mister Juarez, is there a way to remove a curse once it has been placed on someone?”

  “You’d have to ask Doc Buzzard about that.”

  “Doc Buzzard?” The name seemed to ring a bell from Sean’s childhood.

  “The Shaman here on the island. Powerful, powerful ju ju man. If a curse can be removed, he would be the one to do it.” Mister Juarez looked Sean dead in the eye. “Just don’t do or say anything to piss him off. You don’t want Doc Buzzard mad at you.”

  Lynna closed her eyes and slept while Sean received instructions on the circuitous route to Doc Buzzard’s residence.

  “Tell him I sent you,” were Mister Juarez’s parting words.

  A short while later, as they parked in front of the plantation house, Sean smoothed the hair from Lynna’s face and smiled down at her with a tenderness that stunned even him, once again amazed by the powerful feelings that occasionally overwhelmed him. “Now that you have been schooled on the best cacao in the world, according to Grandmama and Mister Juarez…”

  “And probably anyone else with an opinion,” she whispered, mimicking his grandmother.

  Sean laughed heartily as he hopped down from the carriage. The color had returned to her rosy cheeks and her smile was back in place. “Spoken like a true Trinidadian Devereux.”

  Suzanne sat cross legged on her bed at Magnolia House with an evil grin spreading across her pouty lips. Her eyes glistening as she reached into a burlap pouch and pulled out two small sticks. Placing them on the bed in the form of a cross, she was deep in concentration as she carefully tied the sticks tightly together with a piece of hemp. She then reached into the bag and brought out a long strand of Spanish moss. Taking the moss, she wrapped it around the middle of the cross, then down one arm, across the back to the other arm, then back around the middle and down both legs in one continuous motion.

  Admiring her handiwork, she took a handkerchief of Lynna’s that she had stolen when visiting her sickroom one morning, cut the material just so, and tediously covered the moss with the cloth using neat, even stitches. Extremely pleased with her voodoo doll she added a few strands of Lynna’s hair that she had removed from her stolen hairbrush for just this purpose and attached them to the moss that she had intentionally left uncovered to resemble hair.

  Thrilled with her creation thus far, she sewed two buttons for eyes, a button for her nose, and drew a miserable little frown across the face of the doll. When she wasn’t quite so tired she intended to make a delightful little dress for Lynna’s voodoo doll, but for now she jabbed a needle all the way through the temple of the doll and fell back on the pillow, drifting off to sleep with a triumphant smile on her face.

  Chapter 22

  Sean and Lynna relaxed on the verandah, Lynna with a cooling glass of coconut water, Sean with a more potent toddy, enjoying the breathtaking sunset. Colorful tropical birds flitted from the trees and bushes on the lawn as hummingbirds came within inches of them to drink from the flowers surrounding the verandah. A brightly colored Toucan perched on a tree branch a few feet away.

  Suddenly, Lynna heard a rushing noise and turned to the sky to see a soaring flock of brilliant red birds.

  “Those are Scarlet Ibis returning to roost,” Sean whispered close to her ear.

  “Beautiful,” she murmured.

  “Almost as beautiful as you.” He turned her face to look at him and taking her hands, brought them to his lips to place a light kiss on each palm.

  Before he could continue with his train of thought, since Lynna knew exactly where it was headed, she felt this was the perfect time to tell him what was foremost on her mind. “Sean, will you take me home to my son? Beau needs me and I have never wanted anything as badly as I want my son back in my arms where he belongs. Or you could loan me the money so I can purchase passage on the first ship sailing for Charleston.”

  She watched the light dim immediately in Sean’s eyes. “I thought you were happy here.”

  “Not happy. Content,” she corrected. “I could never be happy without Beau.” When he didn’t answer she whispered, “Please, Sean?”

  “So Suzanne can finish the job she started?” Sean bit back a curse as he moved to lean against the verandah rail and glare belligerently at the setting sun. “Lynna, you resembled one of the walking dead the night you came to my ship. If you had remained at Sea Grove a few more nights you would be long since buried by now.” He turned to glower at her with anger flashing in his hazel eyes. “Don’t you understand? You cannot go back there if you have a desire to continue living.”

  “Don’t you understand, Sean? I must return to my son!” Dropping her face in her hands, sobs shook her slender frame as scalding tears slipped down her cheeks. “I cannot live without Beau, nor do I care to.”

  “Here,” he said, handing her his handkerchief. “Dry your eyes and let us ponder this issue later? My men have just returned to their families and would feel much abused if I announced we were going back to sea so soon. Give them some time to enjoy their homecoming. Then we will discuss this matter further.” With a finger on her chin he lifted her face to meet his smile, determined to change the subject. “Besides, it would seem that I have been the one doing all the giving.” His eyes bored into hers. “Do you not think it time you gave me something in return?”

  How much longer could she stall him? “I agree that the crew should enjoy their homecoming. I cannot be that selfish. And Sean, please do not think I am not eternally grateful for the kindnesses you have shown me.”

  “I would have proof.”

  “I… can’t, Sean. I need… time.”

  “How much time, Lynna?” There was a steely note to his voice that she hadn’t noticed before. “I must warn you that my patience has almost reached its limit. I have one question for you, Lynna, and I would like a truthful answer.”

  She already knew what the question was even before he asked it and she answered through trembling lips. “Yes, Sean. It is my intention to uphold my end of our bargain.”

  “Very well, then.” He relaxed somewhat as a slow smile curved his lips. “I can be patient, as long as I have your word.”

  “Sean, we both know that I would not be here today if you had not ferreted me away from Sea Grove when you did. But, at the same time, you must realize how badly I miss my son. I must return
home to Beau as soon as possible. With or without you. Please, try to understand how I feel.”

  “As you wish, Madame.” He mouthed the words, but Lynna noticed the smile had fled his lips and a fierce glint had replaced the sparkle in his eyes. “I feel I must warn you to never even consider returning home without fulfilling your promise to me. Remember I found you once before.”

  He had been nothing but kind to her thus far, but she heard the clear warning in his voice. “As I said, I made you a promise, Sean. And I have every intention of keeping it. I owe you that much.”

  Sean’s laughter was harsher than he intended. “I would much prefer that you not think on it as payment for my services rendered in keeping you alive.” His hand caressed the slim column of her neck. “Trust me when I say it will be as enjoyable for you as it will be for me.” Lynna blushed and would have turned away had he not forced her look at him. “If I do take you home to retrieve your son, will you slip into widow’s weeds and mourn your husband for the next year as society dictates, or is there a possibility that you and I might have a future together?”

  “I cannot possibly answer that question, Sean. I don’t have a crystal ball that can see into the future. As of now, all I can think about is Beau and having him back in my arms where he belongs.” She would be forever indebted to Sean, but she would not hurt him by pretending feelings she did not have. “Neither of us knows what the future holds. Let us just take each day as it comes and go from there.”

  “Fair enough, lovely lady.”

  In hopes of changing the direction of their conversation, as they made their way into the dining room, Lynna asked, “What is that delicious smell?”

  “It smells like Roti.” At her quizzical expression he continued, “It’s an Asian dish made from beef, chicken, or goat with potatoes and spices wrapped in flat bread.”

  “It smells heavenly, very different from the food in Jamaica.”

  “The food in Trinidad has a more South American flavor, thus the liberal use of spices in most of our dishes.”

  “Roti is a favorite on the island,” Lisbeth added, joining them at the table. Then she clapped her hands gleefully. “Lynna, you have arrived on the island just in time. Did Sean tell you that Carnival is in a few weeks?”

  “No, he didn’t.” She cast a confused glance toward Sean. “I’m afraid I don’t know what Carnival is?”

  “Carnival is a celebration of our heritage,” Lisbeth announced proudly.

  Sean dipped a serving spoon into the Roti and passed it to Lynna. “It is not to be missed.”

  “But what is it?”

  Lisbeth took a sip of wine and steepled her fingers under her chin with mannerisms reminiscent of her earlier speech about cacao. She had a twinkle in her dancing lavender eyes as she prepared to enlighten a willing pupil.

  Sean leaned back in his seat with his own glass of wine, readying for her speech. “She lives for this.”

  “Oh, shush, you,” Lisbeth wiggled her finger at her grandson before continuing. “Carnival was first introduced to the island of Trinidad around the year 1785, right about the time the French settlers began to arrive.”

  Sean was right about one thing. Lisbeth certainly enjoyed schooling newcomers on the island’s unique history.

  “The French brought their culture, customs, and Carnival, in the form of elaborate masquerade balls to Trinidad along with African slaves. The tradition of the masquerade ball was an immediate success. It was a gathering where the wealthy planters and their wives could put on masks, wigs and exquisite gowns and dance the night away.”

  “And show off their wealth.” Sean grinned, giving his grandmother a sly wink.

  “That too,” Lisbeth agreed. “We think the wearing of a mask originated with the African slaves since they often used masks during their death rituals. But, since the slaves were banned from the masked balls of the French, they held festivities in their own back yards using customs and folklore from their homeland. Their festivities eventually spread until they moved into the street and became what we now know as Carnival.“

  Sean was happy to pick up the story. “A veritable melting pot of people and cultures have shaped the island over the years, Lynna. Spanish, English, French planters, African slaves, and Indian indentured laborers have settled here. Once slavery was abolished, the freed Africans took their Carnival to the streets and as each new immigrant population entered Trinidad a new flavor was added to the festivities. It’s a celebration where all cultures mix together and have a grand party.”

  “So, Carnival is in March?”

  “Sometimes March, but most often in February. Officially Carnival is the Carnival Monday and Carnival Tuesday preceding Ash Wednesday, but celebrations begin right after Christmas. From Boxing Day until Carnival Sunday is a continuous festival.”

  “And when is Boxing Day?” Lynna wondered aloud.

  “December twenty sixth, the day after Christmas,” Sean replied.

  Lisbeth took the opportunity to impart more of her vast island knowledge. “We aren’t entirely sure of the origin of Boxing Day, but earthenware boxes are set outside local churches to collect contributions for the needy on that day. Then the period stretching between Christmas and the start of Lent is a time for feasting and fancy dress balls.”

  Sean left Lynna completely baffled when he said, “We will be attending several balls during Carnival, although an invitation to the Hampton’s Masquerade Ball on the Saturday after Carnival is by far the most coveted.” With a wide grin, he added, “So rest up, Lynna. There is quite a bit of dancing in your future.”

  “Dancing? I can barely walk.” Lynna laughed nervously. “And I certainly didn’t bring any ball gowns with me.”

  “I happen to be rather well acquainted with the best dressmaker in Port of Spain, our island’s capital, and I feel sure she could be prompted to expedite your order given the proper persuasion,” Sean assured her. “We shall pay her a visit in the next few days.”

  “And what about Carnival Monday and Tuesday? Will we be attending those as well?”

  “No, dear,” Lisbeth informed her somewhat haughtily. “The planter class does not usually associate… um… join in the parade or other town festivities. Sometimes their revelry gets a tad bit uncivilized. Instead, we have our own masquerade ball.”

  Sean lifted his cup and held his pinkie finger out to the side in imitation of a very proper English gentleman. “Much more refined, darling. You see, we wouldn’t really care to mingle with the peasants.”

  “That is not the case at all.” Lisbeth’s cheeks colored at her grandson’s apt description. “It’s just that we feel the African women have a tendency to be rather profane and even barbaric in some of their dances. Especially when they do the vulgar dance they refer to as wining.Why, it is a disgustingly lewd and obscene dance of sex and debauchery.”

  Lisbeth’s cheeks grew pink and she fanned herself as if the room had suddenly grown extremely warm.“It’s just that the aristocracy of the island enjoys a more intimate and certainly less flamboyant celebration.”

  “Certainly,” Sean agreed with a wink and a sage nod of his head.

  The following day just before noon, Sean rapped lightly on the door as he stood outside Doc Buzzard’s cottage. His home was deep in the rain forest and Sean had almost given up trying to find his residence when he finally noticed smoke rising from a chimney. There were no roads to speak of and he had been forced to dismount and lead his horse along the narrow, well worn path.

  Several minutes had passed before a little man of undetermined origin stood in the doorway. Sean would have guessed his age to be somewhere around one hundred and he had some disease, evidently crippling arthritis, that caused him to be completely bent over at the waist. He tilted his head sideways to gaze up at Sean.

  “What can I do for you?” he asked, showing a mouth filled with decaying teeth.

  “Mister Juarez sent me.” Sean wondered if they were going to have this discussion in the doo
rway, or would he be invited in? He was tired, hot, sweaty, and would kill for a cup of cold water after his long trek through the forest. “I need to speak with you about purchasing a spell to remove a curse.”

  “It ain’t cheap getting a curse removed,” the old man wheezed.

  “Money doesn’t matter if you guarantee the spell will work.

  “You questioning my honesty?” The little man’s head was level with Sean’s waist, but the fire shining in his eyes caused Sean to take a step backward as he remembered Mister Juarez’s words, “Don’t piss him off. You don’t want Doc Buzzard mad at you.”

  “No sir, no sir, not at all. I was just letting you know that I am willing to pay whatever the fee to effectively have a curse removed from a friend.”

  “Well, come in then.” He slowly, and judging from his creaks and groans, painfully, turned and moved into the room. “What are you standing outside for?

  Sean followed him inside, noticing jars of strange liquids that contained what looked like animal parts, and different colored powders filling every shelf in the room. There was a black cauldron over the fireplace bubbling away and emitting an unpleasant aroma into the air. Deciding to forego his request for a cup of water, he noticed that all the shutters were drawn, the only light coming from the fire.

  “Close the door behind you,” the man mumbled, moving closer to the fire. “There’s a chill in the air this morning.”

  Sean hesitated as the cottage was already stifling hot from the roaring fire, but did as he was asked. Although he did wonder about Doc Buzzard’s mental stability as it was well after noon on an extremely warm day.

  “You want a simple spell to remove the curse from your loved one? Or do you want a more complicated spell that sends the curse back to the original source, only seven times worse?” he asked as calmly as though they were discussing the weather.