A Thoroughly Compromised Lady (20 page)

‘This man
does
love you, Dulci,' Jack said firmly.

‘Then let me in, Jack,' Dulci fired back.

Jack gave her a short, sardonic bow. A smart man knew when it was time to move on. He would return to the ball and make his excuses. He had a departure to make in the morning.

At the door his hand stalled on the knob. ‘If you ever cared an ounce for me, Dulci, you'll get on that ship.' He shut the door behind him and stepped out into the hall, feeling as if part of his soul had been left behind with a woman who had all he could give and still found it to be not enough. He wondered if he really blamed her. If positions were reversed, he'd not settle for what he'd offered her either. But all the same, she had to understand he could offer nothing more.

 

Dulci collapsed on to the bed, fighting sobs. If she started crying now, she'd never stop. He was gone, really gone this time. How had they moved from spectacular love-making to farewell in the span of an hour? She was trembling, shaking from the emotion of it.

How dare he put her in the position of having to decide what would become of them? How dare he say he love her and expect the words to be enough? How dare he give her exactly what she'd secretly craved but never voiced—he'd said he loved her?

Truth was, she believed him. A man like Jack would far rather bare his body than his feelings. To tell her he loved her must have cost him dearly, no matter how much he meant it. To go to those depths meant two
things: Jack was worried beyond obsession about Ortiz. And he must have wanted her on that boat pretty badly to use love as a negotiating tool.

Well, she wasn't about to desert Jack in his time of need. If he was worried about Ortiz, then he needed her beside him. A woman didn't abandon the man she loved.

That was her truth. She did love Jack; loved him too much to let him pretend that marriage and words would give them the answers they were looking for. She did want to be with Jack, but not like this with so much unresolved between them. Despite her harsh rejection earlier, she wanted to marry Jack in the sense that she wanted no other man but him, wanted to share his life fully with him—
that
was marriage, not some empty ceremony and piece of paper filed on the parish records. She wanted a life with Jack, not a disaster. Jack was not ready to share a life with her. Until Jack could accept that she meant to be his partner, that she would not be left behind mentally or physically, she could not commit to a future with him.

Dulci drew a deep steadying breath—best to begin as she meant to go on. She had to show Jack the acceptance she wanted and she had to do it with actions. She could not tell him she wanted to be accepted. She had to show him and she knew how. Dulci smiled in the darkness. What was that word he'd used earlier? Ah, ‘redefining'. That was exactly what she intended to do.

 

Morning saw a type of con strained chaos reigning at the governor's mansion. Schomburgk was outside with his retainers for the expedition, waiting for Jack and the governor to send them off. Partygoers had not departed
the ball, which had run until four in the morning, in hopes of seeing the adventurers off. They milled on the drive and on the wide front porch.

Dressed in khakis, with her hair tucked up under a concealing hat, Dulci sat astride a big horse at the rear of the group, trying to draw as little attention to herself as possible. She was impatiently waiting with the rest. At last they were off with the governor's prayer and his blessing. Jack rode at the head of the column next to Robert. She was careful to stay clear of Jack, keeping herself with the other retainers and trying to say as little as possible.

Dulci waited until they reached the first river to reveal herself to Jack. The group began the process of loading goods into the many boats that would be far more useful to them than horses on this venture. She saw Jack say something to Robert and slip off into the privacy of the trees.

She waited until he was decent before she stepped out into his path, pulling off her hat and letting her hair fall while Jack started back in what she hoped was surprise.

‘Hello, Jack.'

Confusion and shock dominated his features. She watched them settle, trans muted into something more formidable as the consequences of her appearance in the jungle became obvious.

‘What the bloody hell are you doing here?' This was not the tone of a man who'd been presented with a pleasant surprise. She'd best tread care fully here before she found herself marched back to Georgetown. Jack was not a man who tolerated defiance, even when it was for his own good.

While she'd hoped for a more friendly reception, she'd expected this. Dulci stood her ground in the wake of his anger. ‘I am redefining the nature of our relationship.'

‘And what might that be? Your terms seemed fairly well defined last night.'

She was not put off by Jack's insouciant manner. ‘I am here to prove I don't have to be left behind, that I can be your partner in all ways, in bed and out.' She stepped towards him, closing the distance, and stopping his mouth with a kiss as fierce as her arguments.

J
ack was furious. Aroused, but furious. Sisyphus had an easy task compared to him, Jack thought once he got over the extraordinary shock of Dulci here of all places, kissing him sense less. He'd rolled his proverbial stone uphill only to see it roll back down. He'd seen to her safety, secured her passage on a ship back to the sanctuary of London and her brother's protection. Ortiz could not touch her there. But here she was, professing nonsense about redefining the nature of their relationship. Didn't she under stand there was nothing to redefine? That it couldn't be any other way? To be any other way was to bring his night mares to life. Worse, it gave those night mares a face and it was hers. Yet, he couldn't deny the jubilation that warred with his anger. She'd come! In spite of all her arguments last night, she'd come.

‘So, Dulci, you've decided to become an adventurer,' Jack drawled once she broke her kiss.

Dulci fixed him with a speculative stare, like a gambler assessing the table. ‘I've decided to become some
thing more than an adventurer, although I dare say there are numerous similarities. I love you, Jack, but the one thing I must have is a place in your life. I will prove it to you. Put aside your anger and let me have a chance.'

‘Do you know why I am angry?' When he'd accepted his commissions with the king, he'd also accepted living with an amorphous fear, that the people he loved might be endangered simply by association. Up until now, the fear had not been claimed, no one had captured his affections long enough to be put at risk. Dulci had changed all that; she demanded his partnership and, by doing so, made his fear real. Dulci would be the one imperilled.

‘You're angry because I broke your rules and you can't stand being challenged.'

‘My rules are there for good reason,' Jack ground out; his emotions were out of sorts. He needed time to think, to reconcile the elation at her being here and the fear. She started to reply. Jack shook his head. ‘We have to get back to camp or else Robert will worry. And, Dulci, say nothing. I have to work out what to do.' For once, Dulci complied, walking stoically beside him back to camp while he sifted through his thoughts.

Some men might leap for joy at the prospect of having the woman they loved follow them in to the wilds, and in truth, part of Jack thrilled to the prospect of showing Dulci the jungle. She would love it and they would be beyond the boundaries of rules, far from society's and the governor's wife's watchful eyes. But there was no small amount of guilt overlaying those decadent fantasies. Entwined with the elation was anger. Jack wanted to throttle her. The moment she'd said ‘hello, Jack' his
two worlds had collided, his efforts in keeping them separate all for naught.

He was torn between what he should do and what he wanted to do. He should send her back to Georgetown with a couple of the younger assistants. It would help restore balance to his two separate worlds. But beyond that, it would do little good. Andrew's ship sailed on the dawn tide. Dulci would not make that sailing. She would be no more than a sitting duck in Georgetown for Ortiz if she went back and he would be miles away up some unknown river branch, unable to rescue her should the worst happen.

On the other hand, keeping Dulci with him would keep her safe and under his direct protection. Jack shot a sideways glance at the long-legged beauty beside him. His decision was made. It looked like he'd get to do what he wanted; to keep the intrepid Dulci Wycroft by his side and have this in credible adventure with her, guilt aside. Maybe just this once it would be better for his two worlds to mix.

Of course, he still worried about her ability to cope with the perils of such an expedition. No matter how much she pro tested to the contrary, she wasn't prepared for the rigours of travel in the Guiana interior. Still, if he had to choose—and apparently he did, Dulci having botched his former plans—he would rather take those chances than leave her to her own devices against an angry Calisto Ortiz.

The decision made, Jack felt some of his anger evaporate. He allowed himself to celebrate the turn of events privately. At least for the duration of the expedition, Dulci was his, even if he couldn't have her for ever.

‘How long are you going to stay mad, Jack?' Dulci asked, the boat launch coming into sight.

Jack allowed for the luxury of a smile. ‘There's no use crying over spilt milk, is there?' He reached for her hand and squeezed it. ‘I was angry because you put your safety at risk, not because you were here.' He hoped that made sense to her. It did. Dulci smiled and the last of the tension between them evaporated.

The loading of supplies was nearly complete on the keel boat-styled watercraft that would take them down the river. Departure was imminent. Jack drew a deep breath. More than one type of journey was being embarked on from the shores of the river. For him, the bigger journey might be the mental one he was embarking on with Dulci. She wanted to be his partner. So he would try.

With careful words he hoped she'd appreciate, Jack said, ‘We'll send the horses back with the horse handler. From this point, the insects, the swamps and the rivers make horses literal beasts of burden. We'll travel by boat.' Jack paused and tossed Dulci a questioning look. It was her last chance to turn back. ‘If you want to go back, Dulci, you can. The handler is reliable and you can trust him to get you home to the Carmichael-Smythes.'

Dulci shook her head. ‘My place is with you, you'll see.' She gave him a saucy grin that warmed him. ‘You're not the only one who can master both ballrooms and nature.'

‘I thought you'd say that.' Jack sprang up on to the deck of one of the keel boats and bent down to offer her a hand. ‘But you do under stand that I had to ask.'

‘After today, Jack, there's no going back.' Dulci
swung up beside him. Ahead of them, Robert's boat pushed off into the river and the men at the poles gave shouts of celebration as they got underway.

In spite of the excitement of setting off down the river, she captured all his attention, his body stirring at the brave sight of her, seductive and lovely in her tight-fitting trousers and long boots, her wide hat with mosquito netting hanging down her back.

Jack closed his eyes briefly, wanting to capture this moment for the entirety of his life, wanting to see the two of them, he and Dulci, the way they might look to someone standing on the shore; two proud people standing defiantly at the front of the boat, setting off into the unknown, the breeze off the river ruffling their hair back from their faces, their love of a challenge, their love for each other etched into their expressions—a man with the woman he loved and the woman who loved him.

He gave himself over to the fantasy.

 

These were the best days of his life. Jack could not imagine being happier. The three boats made their way down the treacherous river ways without mishap, the current but sketchy maps proving accurate as they poled the river branches towards the Essequibo.

In the cool of the morning, he would take Dulci on shore with him and Robert for scouting. Robert would collect botanical samples, and he would set up his borrowed surveying equipment for assaying the contours of the land. He would climb hills and look ahead down the river for miles, seeing the turns and twists it would take through the valley below. Dulci did as she pleased, some times assisting Robert and drawing the colourful
birds that lived high in the trees. Sometimes she would come with him, helping with the equipment, learning how to use the compass and many occasions contributing her own insights and knowledge about the terrain.

They kept a look out for any signs of the Arawak or other tribes, but so far, to Dulci's disappointment, had seen none. Jack thought privately they were better off for it. The Arawak had unique and brutal tribal customs.

When it became too hot, too humid for exploring on land, they rejoined the boats that had slowly made their way down river. Usually it was easy to find a nice place to pull out, where there were safe pools of water for swimming beneath waterfalls without fear of the ever-present river piranhas and water snakes. The team would spend the afternoons swimming beneath the gorgeous cataracts, mending equipment, and writing copious notes regarding their findings. All in all, Jack found these days idyllic in spite of the constant danger that surrounded them from insects, snakes and any number of creatures.

Dulci was adapting well, easily lending herself to the tasks of the boat camp and picking up on the rituals of the more seasoned explorers. She checked her boots for scorpions and other insects before pulling them on. She brushed her luxurious hair out every night and then braided it tightly to keep it clean. She found ways to be modest yet not fussy about conditions that offered the barest of privacies. The men adored Jack's woman. Much like she had aboard Andrew's ship, Dulci fitted seamlessly into a man's world while still maintaining her wonderful brand of femininity.

The days ended when the sun set, no one willing to waste more lantern oil than needed. In the dark, one of
the assistants would pull out his fiddle and play while the others chatted on their floating homes, settling for the night, stars filling the sky until it seemed there were more pricks of diamond light than there was dark canopy to hold them.

In the privacy of the dark, Dulci would snuggle close to him, remarking that the stars never shone so brilliantly in London. And when he was certain there was no one to see, he would make exquisite love to her and she to him.

Afterwards, he would lie beside Dulci on the deck of the boat, surrounded by protective netting, the stars bright overhead and think that this was what it meant to be alive. This was what it meant to love…
and to be loved
.

That was perhaps the most profound discovery Jack had made yet on the exploration. He'd known for some time that he loved Dulci, loved her so much in fact that he was willing to bow to the social convention of marriage. He'd thought he knew what love meant; that he must marry her, protect her, shelter her from the hard truths and experiences that ruled his life.

To do so meant leaving her behind so that she couldn't see his life or be sullied by it. It meant she'd be living with half a man, that he could not be himself with her. He had not considered the other portion of the equation: being loved, especially being loved by Dulci, a woman who wanted the whole of him and would not settle for less.

With each day that passed, Jack grappled with an additional reality. Dulci not only wanted to be his partner, but she was also capable of it. Such competence presented Jack with an awkward dilemma—even with
her capabilities, did he dare risk her? It was one thing out here in the jungle with few people around and his twenty-four-hour presence. Other missions would be different. On the other hand, if he did not risk her, it meant losing her entirely.

He did not know which risk was more unpalatable. He had underestimated what being loved meant and the realisation rocked him to the core as he held her beside him in the dark. Because she loved him, she wanted to be his partner in all things. She didn't want to be left behind. She didn't care about the dirt and imperfect realities that sustained his viscountcy. She cared only that she was with him. She wanted to protect him as much as he wanted to protect her.

She shouldn't have had to prove herself to him, but she had time and time again. First on board ship, although he'd been too blind to see it. She'd proven her ability to adapt to colonial life in Georgetown. Not once had she complained that life was not to London standards. She'd proven herself again on this trek. Not only could Dulci endure, she could thrive. She was actually enjoying this, hardships and all.

If ever there was a woman to match him, it was she. In the dark of the night, Jack could see with acute accuracy the right ness of Dulci in his life. As long as he'd believed a wife had to be tucked away in the safety of London, she'd been right to refuse his offer of marriage. Such a marriage would have been an unhappy farce. Each day that passed proved that was no longer the case, if he would just take the chance. If he could accede to that reality, untold hap pi ness awaited him and in that hap pi ness, London seemed very far away. Calisto Ortiz seemed very far away.

 

Calisto Ortiz slammed the articulated levels of his telescope into the base. They were headed towards the Essequibo, perhaps a day ahead of him. Their progress was not built on speed, whereas his was. He had no interest in stopping to appreciate the flora and fauna, or the wildlife. He had no interest in swimming beneath the waterfalls and their thundering roar. His was not a botanical expedition. His goal was single fold: stop Wainsbridge from bringing back a map of the Essequibo River Valley and any news of what the Essequibo River might hold. There was gold in the river basin, gold discovered by him and his uncle. Well, not technically by the two of them, but by men who'd been hired by them.

Ortiz had no intention of turning that wealth over to any government. He meant for it to be private wealth for the vast Ortiz family coffers. But he couldn't begin to petition the Venezuelan government for a tract of land the government didn't possess.

The importer, Vasquez, had died for this, the map-maker who'd made the dummy map was rotting in his cabin for this. They were martyrs to a cause, really, people who might know too much and accidentally expose his secrets. They would not have died in vain. Ortiz would silence Wainsbridge and all would be well.

Although he wouldn't have agreed at the time, Ortiz was now thinking things had worked out quite well. It would be far easier to kill Wainsbridge in the wilds of Guiana than it would have been in London. In England, there would have been too many questions, too many coincidences. He was certain Wainsbridge's friend, Lady
Dulcinea's brother, the Earl of Stockport, would have mounted a brutal inquiry until the truth had been ferreted out. It would have been messy and Vargas would have seen him ruined over it. The stuffy old man couldn't stand the breath of scandal even if it was for the good of the country.