Dark Rider

by Iris Johansen

  “You’re always good.”

  Cassie snorted. Nothing could be less the truth. Even when she tried to school herself for Lani’s sake, she nearly always failed. “Is that why I ran away today and left you as my father always does?”

  “I know you could not stand it any longer. I could see it seething within you yesterday when she was pecking at you with her sharp tongue. You don’t have a gentle spirit and sometimes passion overcomes you.”

  Passion overcomes you.…

  Lani had not meant the phrase in a carnal sense, but Cassie had a sudden vision of the Englishman on the beach. He had both angered and stirred her. Was this part of the turbulent nature Lani spoke of? The memory of that queer breathless moment before she had left him caused heat to rush through her. It was most unsettling; she would not think about it. “I won’t run away again. It’s not fair to you.”

  “You’ll do what you need to do. I knew you’d return once your anger had lessened.”

  “Someday I won’t come back. Someday I’ll make it happen. I’ll take you and Kapu to the other side of the island, and we’ll never set foot here again.”

  “Someday.” Lani smiled. “But not while he still needs us. Yes?”

  Cassie nodded resignedly. “Yes.”

  “Now, don’t be so gloomy. Did you have a good day? How is Lihua?”

  “Good.” She paused. “There’s an English ship in the bay. She and the others have been swimming out to couple with the sailors.”

  Lani frowned. “That is not good. She may get the disease.”

  “I told her. She wouldn’t listen.”

  “No, not when the blood runs hot.” Lani added, “I remember when I was only fourteen, a ship from Russia docked in the bay. My mother told me that there was some talk of the foreigners bringing disease, but I paid no attention. I swam out with the others and chose a sailor of my own. He was very strong and brought me much pleasure.” She chuckled. “Such foolishness. I was lucky that he did not have the disease.”

  “Yes.” Cassie looked away from her and asked haltingly, “Can you truly have pleasure with a stranger?”

  “Of course. As long as there is no cruelty and the man has skill.”

  “Then why do you say I shouldn’t couple with any of the men from your village? They’re not even strangers and would be kind to me. Would that be bad?”

  “Bad?” Lani grimaced. “Now you’re talking like the old one. Have I not taught you better? Love is never bad. It would just be unwise for you.”

  “Why?”

  “You might have a child, and the old one would be very cruel to you, to both of you. You would have to choose between your father and the child.” She shook her head. “You have a very loving heart, and to deny either one would hurt you. It is better to wait until the situation alters. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  Lani gazed at her curiously. “Why have you never questioned me about this before? Have you found a man you wish to pleasure?”

  “No!” Cassie tried to shrug casually. “I just wondered. Sometimes it’s difficult for me when I go to the village. I don’t feel like a foreigner, but I’m not one of them either. I don’t belong anywhere.”

  “Then you must find your own place.”

  “I will.” She smiled at Lani and repeated, “Someday.”

  Lani nodded. “It may not be—” Her gaze on the veranda, she broke off and her pace faltered. “There’s the old woman. I must leave you here, or she will suspect I told her falsehoods.” She moved toward the shrubbery at the side of the trail. “I’ll go back and get Kapu, but I may not be able to come to you before morning. I told the old woman I was going to bed. Have you eaten supper?”

  “Yes,” Cassie lied. Lani had already risked too much for her today. If she admitted that she had not had anything but a piece of fruit since that morning, Lani would move heaven and earth to make sure she was fed. “Go.”

  Lani gave her another fleeting smile and was gone.

  Cassie braced herself and moved quickly toward the woman waiting on the veranda.

  Clara Kidman stood straight and forbidding, silhouetted by the candlelight streaming from the room behind her. “Good evening, Cassandra. I trust you had a pleasant day,” she said coldly. “How is your father?”

  “Well.” Cassie walked hastily toward the bamboo door. “He should be home within a few days. He gives you his regards.”

  “And did you tell him of your rudeness to me?”

  Cassie didn’t answer.

  “Or your undisciplined behavior?” Clara questioned grimly. “I think not. You probably gave him sweet smiles and told him lies about me. It will do you no good. When he comes back, I’ll tell him the truth, and he will let me punish you as I see fit.”

  “Perhaps.” She felt the familiar anger tightening her chest. She had made a promise to Lani. She must escape to her room before Clara found a way to get under her guard.

  “He knows that such unbridled behavior is not to be permitted. You’re turning into as much a pagan as that whore he uses for his lust.”

  Cassie stopped but did not look at her. “She’s not a whore.”

  “A whore,” Clara repeated. “Whore and Jezebel and lost to all goodness.”

  “She is good. She’s kind and generous and—”

  “Are you defying me again?”

  Cassie wanted to strike out at Clara, but that was what she expected. She knew that Cassie could withstand verbal abuse directed against herself, but an attack on Lani invariably brought a response. She would not lose her temper. She had promised Lani. “I’m not defying you,” she said, trying to keep her tone even. “But my father would not like you talking in that fashion about Lani. He truly cares about her.”

  “Blasphemy. A man who was wed to a woman as pure and saintly as your mother would never feel anything but lust for a harlot who bares her breasts to all the world.”

  “She doesn’t do that anymore.”

  “Only because I convinced your father how sinful it was to expose you to such behavior. I told him that if he permitted such conduct from her, she would soon be having you running around half-naked.”

  Cassie felt an instant of satisfaction over her state of undress that day. Lani had taught her that the human body was the most beautiful of creations and she must never be ashamed to bare it. She had an almost irresistible temptation to tell Clara she had not won that particular battle. Her resolve was clearly weakening, and she had to get out of the room before she exploded. “I’m very tired. Good night, Clara.”

  “If you ponder your sins, I doubt if the night will be good for you.”

  Don’t answer her, Cassie told herself. Keep your promise.

  “Cassandra.”

  She glanced back over her shoulder at Clara. The old one, the ugly one, the Polynesians called her, but at first glance Clara was neither. She had only a few strands of gray in her dark hair that was pulled back in a bun, and her face was clear and unlined. Her features were regular, and she might even be considered handsome if it weren’t for her tight expression and the bitter aura that surrounded her.

  “This disobedience must stop,” Clara said. “I won’t permit you to go the way of that native whore. It’s time you returned to the civilized world. A few years of schooling in a convent would prove of vast benefit in curbing your behavior.”

  It was an old threat, but Cassie still felt a ripple of disquiet. “This is my home. My father won’t send me away.”

  “You think not? He gets a little less stubborn each time I speak of the matter.” She smiled again. “Good night, Cassandra.” She turned and went back out to the veranda.

  She was satisfied now that she had caused Cassie uneasiness. What made any person so vindictive as to wrest pleasure from others’ pain? When Lani had first come, she had tried to make Cassie understand that people were not born evil, that experiences made them what they were. But now even Lani found it hard to be kind. Clara seemed to thrive on the power she had
wrested from her position here, and each year she grew more greedy.

  Cassie shivered and looked away from the woman who now stood quite still at the wooden balustrade, looking up at the moon. She went to her room down the hall and closed the door. Safe. Clara had removed the locks after her mother had died, but she seldom intruded here. Cassie crossed to the window and threw open the shutters. Had she given Lani enough time to get Kapu to the stable?

  With relief she saw Lani moving toward the house from the direction of the stable. She would avoid the veranda, slip through the back door, and be in her room before Clara could discover her. All secure.

  But Cassie did not feel safe. She felt unsettled and unsure. She had the odd premonition that everything had changed tonight. Yet nothing had really happened. She had merely met an Englishman who had aroused in her strange and disturbing emotions.

  Well, she must forget him. His world was far away and incomprehensible to her. Her world was going to be in the beautiful valley across the island. She and Lani and Papa would raise fine horses, and they would be as free as Lihua and the other villagers.

  Lihua was probably in the Englishman’s bed now, writhing, crying out …

  Cassie’s knuckles turned white as she gripped the shutter. The sudden surge of anger took her off guard. Jealousy? Impossible. She had never experienced jealousy before and would certainly not envy her friend any pleasure. She had lived too long among the islanders not to have accepted their belief that all possessions should be shared.

  But she had known jealousy when she had seen the Englishman leading Kapu toward her—jealousy and possessiveness and desperation that the treasure of Kapu’s affection would be taken away. Perhaps she had not absorbed as much of the generosity of Lani and the islanders as she had hoped.

  She closed the shutters and turned away from the window. She would go to bed and forget everything that had transpired tonight. No doubt when she was less weary, this strange restlessness would vanish.

  Two

  The messenger from Kamehameha came to the cottage shortly before dawn.

  Cassie woke to hear a pounding at the front door and then Lani’s swift, light footsteps down the hall.

  Papa!

  She jumped out of bed and ran from her room. She was being foolish. The summons did not have to mean any danger to her father. It was only that unsettling experience on the shore that had fueled this fear.

  Lani already had the door open, and light from the torch borne by the huge bare-chested islander fell on her frowning face.

  “What is it?” Cassie asked. “Is it a message from Papa? Is something the matter?”

  “No,” Lani answered, then spoke in a low tone to the islander. He smiled and bowed and then was gone, running on swift bare feet down the hill.

  Lani turned to Cassie. “The message isn’t from Charles. It’s from King Kamehameha. He wishes to let your father know he may have a visitor. An English chief was at his court tonight making many inquiries regarding your father. Since the Englishman is a great chief and the king wished no problem with the English, he judged it wise to tell the man what he wished to know.”

  “What?”

  “He told him of this cottage and Charles’s habit of painting near the volcano.” She paused. “The Englishman’s manner was polite and unthreatening, but the king said to tell Charles that a typhoon often starts with the gentlest breeze.”

  Chill rained through Cassie. “What was the Englishman’s name?”

  “Jared Danemount, Duke of Morland.” Lani’s eyes narrowed as she heard Cassie’s sharp intake of breath. “It is the one? The enemy?”

  “Papa told you about him?”

  Lani nodded. “You know Charles must share all his troubles. But he said only that he feared the coming of an Englishman. Could he be the one?”

  Cassie wished she could remember more of her father’s words that day in Marseilles. “I don’t know—I’m not sure.” She had been almost certain the Englishman could not be the man her father had fled France to avoid. “Did you send the messenger to the hills to warn him?”

  “Am I a fool? Of course I did.” She nibbled at her lower lip. “If he is the man, is there truly danger?”

  “I can’t be sure.” She tried desperately to recall every trait of the man on the beach that might prove deadly. Power, strength, recklessness. What if they were turned against her father? “Yes, I think so.”

  “Then we must not rely on the messenger. I told him of a few places Charles likes to go to paint, but he may not be able to find them.” She grimaced. “And he may not try too hard. My people tread warily on Pelée’s ground.”

  “I’ll go,” Cassie told her as she headed back to her bedroom. “If the Englishman comes here first, try to send him away.”

  “What is this?” Clara Kidman appeared in the doorway of her room, the light from the candle in her hand lighting her grim expression. “Who was at the door?”

  “It was a messenger from the King,” Cassie tossed over her shoulder. “I have to go find my father.”

  “You’ll do no such thing,” Clara said. “Respectable people don’t go running to do the bidding of heathens. You can wait until he returns to—”

  “I’m going.” Cassie slammed the door behind her.

  She hurriedly threw on the riding habit and boots she had discarded only a few hours before. The clothing would offer protection from the brush and rocky trails. She would have to go on foot; the country was too wild for horses.

  A few minutes later she flew out of the room but stopped warily when she saw Lani and Clara still in the hall.

  “It’s all right, Cassie,” Lani said quickly. “I’ve explained to Clara that Charles would want you to go.”

  “And I’m not sure I believe it. I’ll expect you back before dark,” Clara said coldly. “With a note from your father that your journey was both necessary and important.”

  Cassie didn’t even know if she could locate him before dark. Her father drifted around the hills like a piece of ash from the volcano; there was no telling where he was today. “I’ll do my best to find him as quickly as possible.”

  “Before dark,” Clara repeated.

  Anger flared through Cassie. What was she supposed to do? Whisk him out of thin air? All the tension and worry suddenly exploded. “I said I’ll do—”

  “Come along, I’ll walk you down the hill.” Lani took Cassie’s arm and pulled her away from Clara. “I don’t think you’ll need a torch. It will be dawn soon. Are you warmly dressed?”

  “Yes.” Lani, as usual, was stepping between them, trying to divert Clara’s venom and Cassie’s rage. Cassie knew Lani was right; she shouldn’t waste her time battling Clara when Papa might be in danger. She pulled away from Lani as soon as they were out on the veranda. “I’m sorry, I’m over it now. I’m just worried about Papa.”

  “I’m worried, too,” Lani said gently. “And there’s nothing to be sorry about. I understand.”

  Lani always understood. “Go back inside,” Cassie said gruffly. “You’re wearing only your dressing gown, and it’s cool out here.”

  Lani nodded. “Go with God, my friend.”

  Charles would be no match for this man, Lani thought as she gazed at the face of the Englishman. It had taken only a glance after she had opened the door to his knock to realize that Jared Danemount possessed the cool, deadly confidence she had seen in the finest warriors in her village. She and Cassie had been wise to take extra precautions. “I regret you have come this far for no reason, Your Grace. Charles is not here.”

  “And where is he?”

  “He took a boat to the island of Maui. There is much to paint there.”

  “Indeed?” His expression didn’t change, but she was aware of a slight edge to the silken politeness of his tone. “I heard he was content to paint here.” His gaze wandered to the trail leading up to Mauna Loa. “Or near the volcano.”

  “He’s an artist and they are never content.” She started to close t
he door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have duties to perform. Good day, Your Grace.”

  “Wait!” He put his foot in the door. “I need to find—”

  “Who is this?” Clara demanded as she came toward Lani. “Disturbance after disturbance. Is it another of those heathens?”

  She could not have come at a worse time. Lani had hoped to have the Englishman gone before Clara appeared. “No, it’s an Englishman, but he’s going now.”

  “Not quite yet.” Danemount threw open the door. “I have a few more questions.” His gaze went to Clara. “I’m Jared Danemount, Duke of Morland. And you are …?”

  “I’m Clara Kidman. I’m housekeeper here, and you have no—” She broke off and frowned. “A duke? A British duke? Truly?”

  He nodded. “I wish to know the whereabouts of a Monsieur Charles Deville. I understand he has left the island?”

  “Of course he’s not left the island,” Clara said. “He’s gone to that volcano again.”

  Danemount’s cool glance moved to Lani. He murmured, “Really? I must have misunderstood.”

  “But he may be returning soon. A courier from the king came earlier today, and his daughter took the message to him.”

  Lani gritted her teeth in sheer exasperation when she saw the flicker of wariness cross Danemount’s face.

  “You could wait for him here,” Clara said grudgingly to Lani’s surprise. It was seldom Clara offered hospitality to anyone.

  “No, I don’t think I will. My business is of some urgency.” He bowed mockingly to Lani. “Good day, ladies.”

  She had to make one last attempt at diverting him. “The mountains can be dangerous for a man alone. You could become lost.”

  “I’m not alone. My uncle and a guide are waiting on the trail below.” His lips twisted in a cynical smile. “But my thanks for your concern.”

  She watched him go down the veranda steps and then move quickly along the palm-bordered path until he was lost to view.

  “This was not a good thing you did,” she muttered.

  “It’s only what I’d expect of you,” Clara said. “You tell that heathen who came bursting in here in the middle of the night where Monsieur Deville is to be found, but you lie to a civilized British gentleman.”