Wild Lord Taggart

by Tammy Jo Burns

  “Something spooked my horse and we had a parting of the ways,” Circe gave the same answer she had given Reese, refusing to be spoken over like a child.

  “You shouldn’t have—”

  “Left without someone to accompany me. Yes, I realize that. I would have asked Samson, but he seemed rather tired when I saw him earlier.”

  “Oh, really?” Uncle Robert asked. “He usually has the stamina of ten men.”

  “Would you agree with that, Dorothea?” Circe challenged.

  “I suppose so,” Dorothea replied. Her voice held a hint of confusion. “I know the servants seem to hold Samson in great esteem.”

  “Do you?” Circe asked the other woman.

  “Circe, what’s going on?” Robert asked.

  “Just curious.”

  “It sounds like more than curiosity to me. It sounds as if you’re accusing Dot of something nefarious.”

  Circe stood there and eyed the couple in front of her. Robert had his arm wrapped protectively around his wife’s shoulders, while she cuddled close to him. She tried to recall the events of this afternoon and could not deny what she had seen or heard. She took a deep, fortifying breath before she spoke. “I witnessed Samson coming out of your room today, Dorothea. Prior to that, I heard, umm, noises that indicated he was not alone.”

  “And so you thought that he and I… That I would betray Robert…that…”

  “It happens in England more often than not. Why should it not happen here?”

  “Because I love your uncle. I would never consider doing anything like that to him.” Silence reined for several seconds. “You look as if you still don’t believe me. Perhaps it would ease your mind to know that I was visiting a dear friend in Bridgetown this morning.”

  Circe still looked skeptical.

  “Feel free to ask the stable master. I took the curricle.”

  “No,” Robert interceded.

  Circe looked at her uncle. For the first time in her life she saw his face suffused in red from anger. She opened her mouth to say what, she was not sure, but he stopped her before she could say anything.

  “Circe, I hate to lay down the law to you, but I will not have you question my wife’s faithfulness to me or mine to her. We love one another and are committed to each other. In fact, a few days ago, Dot told me that I’m to be a father by the new year, and we are both extremely excited.”

  “I stand corrected,” Circe said stiffly. “I hope you both accept my apology and my felicitations.”

  “Of course,” Dorothea and Robert said simultaneously, but the air held a decided chill.

  “If you will both excuse me, I think I have made a big enough fool of myself for one day. I am exiling myself to my room for the remainder of the evening.”

  “But I had a plate of food made for you,” Dorothea said.

  “I find I am not very hungry. Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight,” the couple echoed.

  When Circe reached the top of the stairs, she looked over the bannister at her uncle and his wife. They stood in the middle of the thorn covered rose and watched her with almost identical concerned expressions. She gave them a chagrinned smile before continuing onto her bedchamber. Once she crossed the threshold, she shut the door, and slid the bolt home. She pressed her heated forehead against the door’s cool surface. Embarrassment caused a heated flush to spread throughout her body. Had she truly misread the situation? No, she knew what she had heard and seen. It had most definitely been Dorothea’s voice on the other side of that closed door this afternoon. Someone was not being honest, but until she could definitively prove otherwise, she would attempt to get along with the woman.

  Circe pushed off and crossed the room. She opened the doors that led out to her balcony. She stepped outside and was greeted by a cool ocean breeze caressing her heated skin. Circe braced her arms on the balcony railing and breathed deeply of the aromatic evening air. The sound of raised voices floated up to her from below. She held her breath as if that little bit of silence would assist her in hearing the conversation below. Unfortunately, the rustling of the leaves on all the surrounding plants prohibited her hearing anything significant.

  I was correct, after all, she thought. Why would there be raised voices if Uncle Robert did not down Dorothea was faithful to him? She truly did not want to be. She wanted only happiness for her beloved uncle, but she also did not want him to be hurt and would do everything within her power to protect him. What if they are arguing over whether I should go back to England? Perhaps their world was perfect until I arrived. She worried her lower lip. In the far distance, she saw the rising moon shining on the water and it took her back in time to being on the ship with Reese and the friendship that had grown between them. At least, she liked to think they were friends.

  “But why did I kiss him?” she asked aloud. And it had most definitely been her that had kissed him before Robert had found them. “Why can I not eradicate him from my mind?” She pulled the pins from her hair and let the heavy mass fall down her back. “It was also you that initiated the last kiss on the ship,” she muttered. She tunneled her fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp. The strands dipped below her waist as she let her head drop backwards, her face raised to the sky above. If she closed her eyes and concentrated hard enough, she could still feel Reese’s lips on hers. “Stop it,” she ordered herself, her eyes popping open. “He represents the very reason you left England.”

  She slapped her palms on the rail and turned to go inside when the faint sounds of chanting drifted to her. Drumbeats soon followed. Circe returned to the rail and stood on her tiptoes in order to get a better look over the leaves of the plants. Whoever was out there was staying well hidden. She contemplated going in search of the revel makers, but did not want to garner another lecture from her uncle about leaving the house unchaperoned. She spent a few more moments looking out over the dark foliage before she turned and walked into her room. She closed the balcony doors behind her and the chanting and drumming were muted.

  Circe undressed and draped her clothes over the dressing screen. The back of the riding habit’s skirt was covered in fine sand from where she had fallen. Dressed in only her shift, she raised her arms above her and winced as she stretched. She bent at her waist and moaned as her back popped multiple times. Upon straightening, she felt better, but knew she would be sore in the morning. There was no way she could not be after falling six feet, if not more. She slipped out of the shift and pulled on her night rail. She had not turned on any lamps, so she crossed to the bed and climbed in. She pulled the fine net around the bed then lay back and tried to clear her mind. It was a very long time before she was able to sleep.

  * * *

  “Did you see her safely home?” O’Connor asked Reese when he returned to Windcrest Plantation.

  “Halfway. We met her uncle searching for her. Her horse had thrown her.”

  “Was she hurt?”

  “She didn’t appear to be.” His mind flashed back to the way she had kissed him. No, she had seemed perfectly fine to him before her uncle had shown up.

  “You should warn her to watch out for herself.”

  “She doesn’t strike me as one who can’t take care of herself.”

  “Not all here is what it seems.”

  “Bloody hell, O’Connor, quit talking in riddles and just tell me what you mean.” Reese studied O’Connor and saw that he looked nervous, which was most definitely odd for the big Irishman. “O’Connor, if you’re concerned about Circe’s well-being, you have to tell me. I can’t do anything for her if I don’t know what the threat is.”

  “It’s Ruth.”

  “What?” Reese asked, confused as to where this conversation was going.

  “Ruth’s has a feelin’ Miss Hayhurst might be in danger.”

  “Is this woman’s intuition?” When O’Connor did not answer, Reese continued. “I’m certain Circe appreciates Ruth’s concern, but I would hasten to say that her uncle will take good care
of her and see that she’s safe.” Reese turned to leave the room, but O’Connor’s next words brought him up short.

  “As he did today?”

  Reese remembered seeing Circe lying prone on the ground when he happened upon her after she was thrown by her horse. She had managed to not only leave the house unescorted, but she had also ridden a horse to his house, covering quite a distance. It had been only when the horse arrived home, riderless, that anyone became concerned enough to search for her. Perhaps O’Connor had a valid point after all. He fisted his left hand on his hip and ran the fingers of his right hand through his hair as he let out a disgruntled sigh.

  “What do I need to know?”

  “Did you know that Lady Hayhurst has been married before?”

  “What? She’s younger than Circe.”

  “Yes.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “Them.”

  “What?!”

  “Not him, them. Lord Hayhurst is her third husband.”

  “You jest.”

  “I speak the truth.”

  “What happened to the others? Illness? Accident? What?”

  “No one’s really certain. I believe accidents are cited, but they can be easily faked.”

  “How do you know about this?”

  “It’s common knowledge on the island.”

  “Does Circe’s uncle know?”

  “I’m sure he does.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Maybe they died of natural causes…”

  “But maybe they didn’t.”

  “Do you know more than you’re saying?”

  “If she’s your friend, watch out for her.”

  “Dammit, O’Connor, I can’t be everywhere. I need to be here, getting the plantation up and running again. I can’t be her nursemaid all the bloody time. First of all, she doesn’t want me near her because I am not the type of man she came to Barbados to marry. Second, her uncle would not approve of me sniffing about her skirts. Third…”

  “Well?”

  “I can’t think of anything else, but I feel like there’s some argument against getting involved.”

  “You can work during the day and attend the parties Miss Hayhurst attends at night,” O’Connor rationalized.

  “You think she only needs protection at the parties?” Reese asked incredulously. O’Connor remained quiet. Reese stood there, glaring at him when Ruth approached the two men.

  “What’s goin’ on?”

  “Your husband was telling me about your premonition about Circe and her lovely aunt.”

  “Ye did?” Ruth asked, her head whipped around to stare at her husband.

  “I told him about Lady Hayhurst’s marital history and that people aren’t sure how the first two husbands died.”

  “Oh,” she said, looking relieved.

  Reese looked back and forth at the couple and suspected there was more that they weren’t telling him. He also doubted he would get it out of them tonight. “I will do what I can,” he said, “but I will not interfere with her life. I will merely act as a bodyguard when I’m able. Much like an older brother might.”

  Ruth looked slightly relieved, but O’Connor still seemed uncertain, worried.

  “The two of you are worried for nothing,” Reese said. “By the way, I’d like the Lord Taggart to be forgotten about. Here I am merely Mr. Taggart. Agree?”

  “Yes,” the couple mumbled.

  “Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight,” the couple said in unison.

  He turned and walked down the hallway that led to his room. Reese entered the bedchamber, shut the door, and threw the shirt he realized he still had in his hand on the bed. He undressed once more, the cooling air caressing his heated skin. He climbed back in bed, pulled the netting around it, and tossed the bedsheets over the middle of his body. He crossed his arms behind his head and stared at the ceiling. He was physically exhausted but his mind wouldn’t stop working, thinking about all that needed to be done on the plantation, and now O’Connor and Ruth filled his head with images of Circe in danger. Was Circe truly in some sort of danger? Perhaps he should have a visit with her uncle and relay Sean and Ruth’s concerns. Maybe he would have the opportunity to see her again. Then he remembered how she had kissed him and how he had kissed her back. No, that would be a bad idea if he saw her again. He might do more than kiss her next time, and he wasn’t so sure that she’d help him stay responsible, because she had been the one to initiate that kiss, not him. Though he had definitely enjoyed it.

  Now his exhausted body was coming to life. Reese could almost feel her pressing against him as he remembered how he had held her soft body when they were in the midst of the storm on the ship. He let out a tortured groan as his member grew, causing the sheet to tent. He turned his head and saw the shirt beckoning to him. He reached for it and could faintly make out the scent of roses. He knew he would not be going to sleep any time soon if he did not take care of the situation. He moved his other arm from behind his head, downwards. Reese kicked off the sheet until he clasped his member in a firm fist. As he squeezed and stroked, he remembered what it felt like to hold and kiss Circe, and he lost himself in the memories and the possibilities. Only when he had spent himself, fighting against shouting out his euphoria, did his body relax. He climbed from the bed and cleaned himself. When he returned, he threw the shirt far away from him on the floor. Yet sleep still did not readily come to him.

  “Did I promise to act like a brother to her? What, in bloody hell, was I thinking?” he muttered to the empty room.

  Chapter 14

  Over the next few days, Circe successfully avoided Robert, Dorothea, and Samson. She spent time reading the books she brought with her and when the world outside beckoned to her, she took long walks through the plantation. She watched the men and women work to harvest the sugarcane and even asked to be shown how the process was done. This was done reluctantly.

  Once she saw how it was done, she insisted on helping. By the time she had completed a half day’s work, her clothes were filthy, sweat covered her body, and every muscle protested any sort of movement. When she felt a burning sensation in her hands, she looked down to see that they were red, raw, and covered with scrapes and cuts. She would have kept on working had it not been for a firm hand on her shoulder stopping her.

  “Yes?” Circe twisted to look up at an older man that someone had told her earlier was the overseer.

  “Miss Hayhurst, I don’t understand exactly what you are wanting to do, but I believe you’ve accomplished it,” he said in a very British accent accompanied by a disapproving tone. “You should return home.”

  “But everyone else is still working,” she pointed out. She vaguely wondered if Reese felt like this when he helped his people—happy but exhausted. Proud of what she had accomplished, she pushed thoughts of Reese out of her mind and tried to focus on what the man in front of her was saying.

  “I must respectfully ask you to leave, for your own well being, Miss Hayhurst.”

  Circe stumbled to her feet, but managed to shake off his assistance. She turned to walk towards the house.

  “I’ll have Samson escort you.”

  “No,” she practically shouted at the unsuspecting man. “No,” she repeated, sounding much more composed this time. “I can see myself to the house if you insist I must leave. It is not that far.”

  “Yes, Miss Hayhurst. Thank you for understanding.” The man bowed before turning and walking away.

  Circe wanted to scream at him that she did not understand, but instead she took a deep breath, turned in the opposite direction, and left the field workers behind. Many of those she had worked near stopped what they were doing and waved shyly at her as she passed by. Others merely nodded their heads while some completely ignored her. She returned the waves with an exhausted smile on her face and nodded in return at the others. Circe approached the tiny houses where the families lived on the outskirts of the land immediately surrounding the large manor
house. An ancient looking, dark-skinned woman sat out in front of one of them in a rocking chair with a wooden bowl in her lap. Her face held more wrinkles than smooth patches and her eyes were so dark they looked like pieces of coal. Her silver white hair was wrapped into a braided bun on the top of her head. It was the same woman she had been warned to stay away from by Samson. Circe approached her like a curious child.

  “Good morning,” she said.

  “Chil’ it hasn’t been mornin’ for nigh on two hours. Ye look a mess. Let me see yer hands.”

  Circe held up her hands and inspected them first. They were in a state in which she had never seen them before. They were raw and oozing blood in some spots and in others they were caked in dirt and it was anyone’s guess as to what else. She turned them so the old woman could see.

  “What you been doin’?”

  “Working in the sugarcane.”

  “Now why’d a pretty thing such as yerself want to do somethin’ like that, what wi’ ye bein’ the master’s kin and all?”

  “You know who I am?”

  “Chil’ every slave on this plantation knows who ye are. Turn that bucket over and sit. I’ll be back.”

  Circe did as the woman said, grateful to take a moment to rest. Her rubbery legs gave out on her halfway down and she ended up falling the rest of the way to the bucket. It rocked precariously and she put out her hands to keep herself from falling. She yelped in surprised pain. They had been numb when she quit working and now they came back to painful, throbbing life bringing tears to her eyes.

  The old woman returned with a basket draped over her arm and two basins of water. She sat down once more, placed the basket on the ground along with one bowl and placed the second bowl on her lap. Circe watched the old woman open various jars and dump some of the contents into the water. She stirred it carefully so that none of the water sloshed out then set that bowl aside. She picked up the second bowl, placed it on her lap, and rummaged in the basket once more. This time she came up with a cake of soap and a washcloth. Circe winced at the thought of how painful it was going to be to wash her hands.