Wild Lord Taggart

by Tammy Jo Burns

  “I wish Papa and Mama were here to see all this,” she murmured to herself as she swiped at a lone tear that tried to race down her cheek. Circe studied the landscape before her, in awe of everything she saw. Colorful flowers jockeyed for room beneath the green shrubs and trees, while they all danced in the breeze. The house was perched on a mountain and overlooked the ocean. Unfortunately, it was too far away to hear the waves crashing on the sandy beaches or against the rocky cliffs. How is it I was so tired of the ocean on my journey here, but now I seem revitalized by it? she wondered.

  She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, a smile playing at her lips. She enjoyed the scents wafting up to her on her elevated perch on the second story. Circe let her mind drift and it traveled in the direction of Reese Taggart. She found herself wondering what he had found at his new plantation and if he was doing as well as she was. She wondered what his house looked like. Was it similar to Uncle Robert’s or vastly different? Had he been welcomed with open arms by his servants? What if his reception had not gone well? Surely there had been someone left to oversee the running of the plantation and their care. But what if there had been no one in charge? Was Reese in danger? Her eyes flew open at the thought, and her heart began to thud faster in her chest.

  “Stop it!” she ordered herself. “He is a big boy that can take care of himself. I am certain he is managing superbly.” She opened her eyes and studied the landscape once more, but the calming affect was gone. Circe slapped the palm of her hand on the rail in frustration. “You are just not used to life without him. He was nothing more than a distraction on a long adventure. Now, get yourself under control.”

  “Miss Hayhurst, are you speaking to me?” Molly, the maid assigned to her yesterday, stood in the doorway between her room and the balcony looking concerned.

  “No,” she denied.

  “Your bath is ready.”

  She turned away from her lovely view and left the doors to the balcony open. She was, after all, on the second story, she justified. The servants left her alone, closing the door behind them. A wonderful aroma wafted towards her, relaxing her before she even put a toe into the hot water. Steam curled up into the air, greeting her. She quickly stripped out of her clothes stiffened by the salty air and dropped them onto the floor. She peeled off her stockings and practically dove into the bathtub. Circe gave a sigh as the hot water penetrated whatever aches and pains ailed her. She leaned her head back against the rim of the tub, sunk as far below the surface of the water as she could, and closed her eyes luxuriating in the decadence of her first bath in almost two months.

  Chapter 9

  The women left for Bridgetown mid-morning the next day.

  “I just cannot get over how vibrant everything is here.”

  “Yes, it can be quite overwhelming at times,” Dorothea replied as if she were bored with it all.

  “You would not take it for granted if you had been raised in England as I was. It is often rainy and quite depressing. You live for those days that the sun chooses to grace you with its appearance.”

  “You’re right,” Dorothea replied. “I’ve only known island life. My family moved to the islands when I was a small child. Father was a missionary. My first husband lived on the same island as my parents. My second husband brought me to Barbados.”

  “Pardon? Did you say you have been married twice before?”

  “Yes. My first husband died in a riding accident, and my second husband went out fishing alone and a storm came up unexpectedly. We found him drowned several days later,” she answered matter-of-factly.

  “But you are so young to have had three husbands. What about the periods of mourning? How young were you when you married your first husband?”

  “I observed all the proper mourning periods, and I am hurt that you would suggest otherwise. And if you must know, I was eighteen when my first husband and I married.”

  “And yet you never had any children.”

  “No, I have not been blessed in that area as of yet, but I hope I soon will be. Robert so wants to be a father.”

  “And what of you? Would you like to be a mother?”

  “I want to see Robert happy. That’s all I care about.”

  “How did you meet Uncle Robert?”

  “He had some business with my last husband. Thomas died without an heir; therefore, I inherited his estate. Robert and I struck up a friendship that evolved into what we have now.”

  “I see. What was it like growing up on an island such as this?”

  “Lonely. I was often overlooked by my parents because of the work Father did. The only true constant in my life was my nanny, Naomi. She went with us no matter where we moved. When Father and Mother were busy teaching the natives about God, she saw that I was cared for.”

  “It sounds as if the two of you are close.”

  “Were. She passed away last year.”

  “That must have been hard for you.”

  “It was more difficult than losing my first two husbands, but I had to remind myself she had lived a long life. She was absolutely ancient. Naomi was probably near ninety when she passed away.”

  “Oh, my.”

  “Yes. She was well respected in the island communities.”

  “I can only imagine.”

  “Enough of the past. Tell me what exactly you are looking for in a husband. What does he need to look like? What age should he be? How tall?”

  “You act as if I tell you, you can conjure him for me.”

  “Don’t laugh off what you think to be impossible,” Dorothea said and chuckled huskily. She fingered a pendent hanging from her necklace and stared thoughtfully at Circe.

  “I do not care about any of that. I just want to marry a man that I love and who loves me in return.”

  “May I see your left hand?”

  Circe leaned forward and held her hand out to her aunt. Dorothea took it, turned it over, and laid it palm up in her left hand. Circe watched as the young woman trailed the lines of her palm with her index finger. “Hmm.”

  “What?”

  “Shh.” Dorothea laid her left hand palm to palm with Circe’s left, closed her eyes, and remained absolutely still. “No one is going to compare with the man already in your heart.”

  “There is no man in my heart,” Circe denied and tried to slip her hand free, but Dorothea’s grip firmed. Circe’s pulse raced as she kept tugging against Dorothea’s hold. Suddenly Dorothea’s eyes flew open and she pulled Circe close and looked straight into her eyes.

  “You,” Dorothea breathed the word out on a hiss.

  “What?” Circe asked, sounding just as confused as she felt.

  “Oh, nothing at all,” Dorothea waved airily, letting go of Circe’s hand in the process.

  Circe rubbed her palms together, feeling that something definitive had changed between the two women, but unsure what it was. They spent the rest of the trip to Bridgetown with Dorothea pointing out various landmarks.

  When they entered the town of Bridgetown, Circe pushed away the uneasiness and enjoyed the sights around her. The buildings were not covered in soot and grime like all of London seemed to be. She heard Dorothea talking, but she really was not paying much attention to the other woman, because she was so enthralled with all she saw. Even the people were as colorful as everything else. She said as much to Dorothea who quickly explained.

  “The islands have a mixture of slaves and servants from both Africa and Ireland. Some islands have more of one that the other, as do the various plantations. Ours are mostly from Africa, with only a few Irish. Every household has a mix of both and they seem to work well together. Then, of course, you have the English landowners.”

  “Of course,” Circe murmured.

  “Here we are,” Dorothea announced as the carriage drew to a stop in front of a building. “Shall we?”

  “Yes,” Circe quickly agreed anxious to get this part over with so she could explore more of the island.

  * * *

&n
bsp; Several hours later, Circe and Dorothea walked out of the dress shop. Dorothea walked out smiling, pleased with the order they had left with the dressmaker. Circe was simply irritated that they had wasted so much time indoors. Having lived in England for all her life, she was used to making the most of good weather when the opportunity presented itself. The weather was better than good, and she itched to go exploring. She was just about to step up into the coach when a familiar voice sent shivers down her spine.

  “Miss Hayhurst, how are you enjoying Barbados thus far?”

  She stepped back down, turned, and held up her hand to block the sun. Give him the cut direct, she ordered herself. In the end she found she could not do that to Reese. “Yes, Lord Taggart. It is everything I had imagined and more. And you?”

  “I’m not having as good of a time as you are, I’m sad to say.”

  “Oh? I am sorry.”

  “Won’t you introduce us, Circe dear?” Dorothea interjected.

  “Oh, yes, I am sorry. Lord Reese Taggart, may I introduce Lady Dorothea Hayhurst, my Uncle Robert’s wife.”

  “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Hayhurst.” He bent low at the waist and bussed his lips against the back of Dorothea’s proffered hand. Reese dropped the woman’s hand, took a step back, and turned his attention back to Circe. “Was your uncle surprised to see you?”

  “Very.” She bestowed a smile upon Reese. “And how is Windcrest Plantation?”

  “You are the new owner of that…that…”

  “Albatross is an appropriate description, but please, Lady Hayhurst, let us keep the visit to a more pleasant topic. Oh, I’d like for you to meet my manager.” Reese looked around before he turned back to face Circe. “It seems that he’s disappeared. Perhaps another time. We were only going to go into Oistin, but found they lacked most of the things we needed.”

  “Yes.” Circe found herself curious about Reese’s plantation, but forced herself not to ask the questions she desperately wanted to.

  “We were just going to have a bite to eat. Would you care to join us?” Lady Hayhurst asked.

  “Thank you, Lady Hayhurst, but I should really be returning to Windcrest. I have a lot to do.”

  “Since we are neighbors we should have you over for dinner. Robert would enjoy meeting you.”

  “Neighbors?” Circe asked then turned to look at Dorothea.

  “Oh, yes, but keep in mind there is still a lot of land between us.”

  “Yes, there is,” Reese agreed and studied Circe who was worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. He had a sudden urge to tug it free and coax her into a kiss until she stopped worrying about the close proximity in which they lived to one another.

  “Besides, we are high up on the hill and you are below and past us.”

  “Yes,” Reese agreed. “I passed the entrance to Briar Rose Plantation on the way to mine.”

  “Well, as I said, you will have to join us for dinner one evening.”

  “I would like that very much,” Reese politely replied. “I really must be going. I have a lot to accomplish while I am in town.”

  “It was good to see you again, Lord Taggart.”

  “You as well, Miss Hayhurst. Lady Hayhurst.” He bowed politely before walking away.

  The women stood there, watching him as he turned and walked down the street, looking around as if he were searching for someone. When he turned a corner out of sight, Circe turned to Dorothea. “You said we were going to eat somewhere,” she verbally prodded Dorothea in an attempt to remove Reese Taggart from her mind.

  “Yes,” Dorothea agreed. “So, tell me exactly how you know Lord Taggart.”

  “We came to Barbados on the same ship.”

  “Alone?”

  “He was alone and I was alone, but really we had very little to do with one another.”

  “Come now, Circe, you can trust me. A handsome man such as him and nothing happened?”

  “No,” Circe denied.

  “Somehow, I don’t believe you,” Dorothea tutted.

  “Are you accusing me of lying?”

  “I think perhaps you’re not being truthful with yourself,” Dorothea replied. “Now, enough of this. Come along.” Dorothea tugged Circe behind her to the coach, and the two women climbed in once more.

  Circe attempted to push the knowledge that Reese was her uncle’s neighbor from her memory. She also told herself that Dorothea was not showing interest in Reese, but somehow she just could not shake off the feeling that she was. She knew Reese’s reputation and how convincing he could be. She hoped that Dorothea was as in love with Uncle Robert as she appeared to be, because if she was not, Circe hated to see what might happen.

  * * *

  “Uncle Robert, I’d like to go exploring,” Circe announced after she and Dorothea arrived home.

  “I thought you and Dot had gone shopping.”

  “We did, but I am so tired of being confined within a small space.”

  “I insist someone accompany you. If something should happen to you, I wouldn’t even know how to begin to tell your father and mother.”

  “I will accept that. While you are deciding who will accompany me, I’m going to change into a riding habit.”

  “What’s going on?” Dorothea asked as she entered the study.

  “I’m going exploring,” Circe explained as she passed Dorothea on her way out of the room.

  “Not in the heat of the day,” Dorothea said, putting a damper on Circe’s jubilation.

  “Why not?” Circe demanded.

  “Because you are not acclimated to our climate yet and going out in the heat of the day is difficult for those of us who have lived here all of our lives.”

  Circe started to argue when her uncle stepped into the conversation.

  “I’m afraid Dot has a point,” he said. “Besides you’ve had a busy morning. Why don’t you go upstairs and have a rest? Dot will get you when it is time for you to go on your excursion.”

  “I will do this your way, Uncle Robert, but let it be known that I am not happy about it.” She turned and left the couple in his study.

  “I don’t understand her fascination with this place. It’s just like every other island I’ve lived on.”

  “Ah, but my darling, you have been gone so long from the island you were born on that you’ve forgotten what it’s like for someone to encounter paradise for the first time. It can be quite overwhelming and exciting, especially the older you are. I know I was both when I arrived here, especially when I set my sight on you,” he murmured as he approached Dorothea. He wrapped her up in his arms and lowered his lips to hers when he felt a slight tug, as if she were trying to move away from him. “Darling, is something wrong?”

  “Don’t be silly,” she replied and stepped closer to him. “I know the perfect person to accompany Circe on her little adventure.”

  “I was thinking of sending Elijah.”

  “He could hardly keep up with her, even on a horse. No. I thought we could send Samson with her.”

  “That’s an excellent idea. I’ll send word to him—”

  “No. I’ll send word to him. You go up to your room and rest. You are looking a bit pale.”

  “But I feel fine.”

  “Oh, but darling, I don’t think you do, and I will be up in just a bit to see to your every need,” Dorothea said as she walked her fingers up his chest and then cupped his cheek.

  “You know, I believe you’re right.” He bent his head and captured her mouth in a passionate, swift kiss then just as quickly left her as he went up the stairs to his bedchamber.

  She picked up a bell and rang it until the older servant, Elijah, made an appearance.

  “Yes, m’lady?”

  “Elijah, get Samson for me.”

  “Yes, m’lady.”

  Dorothea was pacing the study when a tall, broad man walked into the room. His skin was the color of hot chocolate with a liberal dose of cream added. The freckles scattered across his nose and ch
eeks looked like cinnamon dust and did not deter from his manliness in the least. His hair was short and curly and the same color as his freckles.

  “Shut the door, Samson.”

  The man did and when he turned around, Dorothea was flying across the room and into his arms. She cupped his cheeks and pulled his mouth down to hers. She devoured him as if she hadn’t had food in days and he was her sustenance. Soon she was finding herself pushed away. “I’ve missed you,” she pouted. “Haven’t you missed me?”

  “I’ve been busy with work, Lady Hayhurst.”

  “Dorrie,” she corrected on a whisper. She approached the big man and rubbed against him sinuously. He took a step away from her, but she refused to be ignored and followed him. “Samson, kiss me.”

  “With all due respect, I’d rather not, m’lady.”

  “Respect has nothing to do with it,” she purred and stalked the man as a hunter would his prey. When she finally cornered him, she reached out and fondled him through his breeches, but much to her consternation his body did not respond to her. “Samson, don’t you like me?”

  “I’m in love with another, m’lady,” he replied looking above her head.

  “I see,” her voice was suddenly frigid. She opened her reticule and retrieved something that looked like a doll. At the apex of the legs she lightly rubbed her finger back and forth. She smiled when she heard a moan behind her. “Is something wrong, Samson?” she asked innocently.

  “No, m’lady.”

  Dorothea smiled wickedly at the strain she heard in his voice. “Now, what is the name of this woman you find yourself in love with?”

  “I’d rather not say, m’lady.”

  “I wouldn’t do anything to harm her,” Dorothea said innocently. She turned to see what affect her manipulations on the doll were having on Samson. She smiled lasciviously at her handiwork. His posture was stiff, beads of sweat had popped out all over his face and neck as if he were working under the heat of the sun, but most importantly, the placket of his breeches was tented. “Oh, Samson, you do want me,” she purred.