Captive (16 page)

Yes, all that was true, but …

Her cheeks burned and she turned quickly from Tara.

All that was true, but still the memories of the night were so vivid and so intimate. She knew somehow that she would never taste anything so sweet again, know anything quite so wild, reckless, and passionate again, ever. She would never touch any man with so great a fascination, so strong a longing.

Her obsession had not dimmed, she realized painfully. There was nowhere to go.

And yet she wanted something more.

He needed another good slap, she thought. No, a shower of them, aimed right at his arrogance and presumptions!

He would ride away today, she thought.

And her heart felt heavy again. He would ride away, and she would not forget.

“Speak of the devil,” Tara murmured.

Teela brought her chestnut gelding around and looked across the field toward the outbuildings and stables of Cimarron. Jarrett and James McKenzie were racing toward them. James rode a spotted gray; Jarrett was atop a handsome bay. Both men rode bareback, their horses running neck and neck.

“They’re racing,” Tara said, shaking her head. “Boys will be boys.”

Teela smiled. They might be racing, but neither brother seemed able to get the advantage. Nor did they seem to want to admit—to themselves or others—that they were racing.

They both slowed their horses as they approached the women.

“Well, Miss Warren!” Jarrett called cheerfully. “What do you think of Cimarron?”

“It’s beautiful,” she told him, trying to ignore James. Damn, if she just didn’t feel the heat of that blue stare upon her. “Possibly the most beautiful plantation I have ever seen.”

“Anywhere?”

“Anywhere. Although, of course, Blue Forest, my family home in Charleston, does rival it in some ways.”

“Charleston is a beautiful place. We’ve family there,” Jarrett said. “But since you find Cimarron so charming, we hope that you will truly consider it your home away from home, right, my love?” he added to Tara.

“Always,” she said earnestly. “This can be a frightening land.”

“Filled with savages, wild creatures!” James warned, and she turned to meet his challenging gaze, her chin high.

“I believe I have already encountered such creatures,” she said smoothly. “But then,” she added, smiling to Tara and Jarrett, “Blue Forest is near swamp and woodlands—not so wild as this, perhaps, but close. And I have
discovered that most creatures become savage when they are threatened or afraid. When they discover that there is nothing to fear, they are much more pleasant.”

“Some creatures,” James informed her, “are never tamed.”

Tara, completely innocent of the subtext of the conversation, warned her, “There is no such thing as a tame rattler, so don’t be fooled if you hear one in the woods!”

“I will learn to take the gravest care,” Teela promised her, casting a grim smile toward James.

“You’ve shown her the whole of the property?” Jarrett asked his wife.

“Well, all that is safe to travel,” Tara told him.

“You two must be thirsty and famished. Perhaps we should return to the house and see what Jeeves can arrange.”

“Well,” Tara said, moving her mare closer to her husband’s mount, “since I had hoped you might finish with business and join us, I asked Jeeves if he couldn’t arrange a picnic out on the porch. The day is beautiful. It’s still cool, but the sun is so warm against the breeze.”

“A picnic sounds wonderful,” Jarrett told her.

They smiled at each other. They were an exceedingly handsome couple, Teela thought, feeling a slight pang again, and then yearning to withdraw somehow. She felt as if she was intruding on something very intimate, though the two were not even touching.

She looked away.

And caught another McKenzie’s eyes upon her. They still seemed to search for something. As if he judged her. Looked her up and down, sought some secret within her. She felt herself growing warm. She couldn’t keep the thoughts of last night at bay. She wondered if a decent woman would have come so close and intimate with a husband of a decade. But it didn’t matter. She remained a little lost, confused, and breathless every time she thought of it. She feared she had shared things with him she might never share again.

But he had been married. Deeply in love. He probably wouldn’t even understand the way she felt.

She didn’t exactly know herself.

“Let’s head back for the house, shall we?” said Tara.

Tara rode ahead with Jarrett. Teela fell naturally behind with James. A short distance slowly lengthened between the pairs of riders.

“You’re still here,” Teela murmured after a few moments. “At Cimarron.”

“Yes.”

“Are you staying?”

“Not long. I must see to some things.”

“Oh.”

They rode in silence another moment, then James asked politely, “Are you all right?”

“Of course. Why would I not be?”

He stared at her, arching a brow. “Perhaps you hadn’t realized, you’ll never … be quite the same again.”

She stared straight ahead. “I am quite fine. I am not completely naive, and I do not need your concern. And you needn’t be so abrasive and rude—”

“I was not being rude—”

“Cruel, then.”

“What?”

“Perhaps it’s your attitude. Perhaps it’s the way you phrase things, perhaps the way you mean them—”

“Oh, do excuse me! You don’t want my concern? What do you want, my undying gratitude for allowing me to defile your tender, innocent white flesh?”

She stared at him furiously, then started to nudge her horse forward. He reached over from his own mount and caught her arm. “I’m sorry. Perhaps I am being rude. And in truth, I am sorry that I gave so little thought to my actions.”

She still stared at him. He smiled ruefully and continued. “I’m afraid, though, that I am not sorry for my actions themselves.”

She looked quickly down and flicked a strand of her horse’s mane from one side of its neck to the other.

“I don’t want you to be sorry for your actions,” she said softly.

“It is never pleasant to hurt someone,” he said.

“You didn’t hurt me.”

“You’re lying.”

“Only a little.”

“You were hurt a little, or you’re lying a little?”

“Both.”

He laughed softly. She loved the sound of it. It was as alluring as his smooth copper flesh, his striking and handsome features, the hot feel of his taut-muscled body and the searing sweep of his blue gaze.

Don’t love it so much!
she warned herself. But he had been right when he had whispered in the darkness that the moth had come too close to the flame. Her wings were scorched. She would never just fly away.

Even if he rode out of her life.

“James—”

“Take care!” he warned softly. “We’ve come to the house.”

Before them Tara and Jarrett had reined in their horses just before the rear porch of Cimarron. Two young boys, almost identical and of mixed blood, came to take the horses, waiting for Teela and James to dismount as well.

“Lemonade is already on the table,” Tara said cheerfully. “Jeeves has determined to create an oasis of peace here, James, no matter what lies around us!”

“Jeeves is a marvelous person, dear sister, and you must never forget that,” James told her, his voice overly grave, his lips twitching. He shrugged toward Teela. She tried not to blush, but cast her lashes downward anyway, despite all her best efforts.

“I’ll run in and tell him we’re ready for lunch,” Tara said.

“Come, have a seat, Miss Warren,” Jarrett said.

She was startled as she felt James’s hand at the small of her back, escorting her up the steps to a small table
that had been laid out with silver, linen napkins, glasses, and a frosty pitcher.

Jarrett pulled out her chair for her, eyeing his brother.

“It seems that you have graciously forgiven James his outrageous behavior at the party last night?” he said.

Teela started to reply, then paused, staring at James. Her turn to play the game.

“I have forgiven his absolutely outrageous behavior of last night, yes, Mr. McKenzie.”

James slid into the chair beside her. “She has a most forgiving nature,” he said politely. Then his eyes narrowed. “But I fear I cannot beg anyone’s forgiveness for my feelings toward Warren.”

Teela stiffened.

She could not beg anyone’s forgiveness for her own feelings regarding the man.

But James McKenzie had no right to look at her so. “James—” Jarrett began.

But Teela pretended not to hear him. She set her napkin on her lap as she softly interrupted with, “Are you guilty of all your father’s sins, Mr. McKenzie?”

“My father had none,” he replied simply.

“Every man has some.”

“Not my father,” James said softly. She realized that he revered the man, and she felt a sudden sympathy for him. If he had so adored his white father, as deeply as he cared for Jarrett now, this Indian war must truly be hell for him.

His fleeting moments of tenderness were addicting. But he was equally and coldly determined to keep a good distance from her, and she would not lose pride and soul along with all else.

She hadn’t caused this wretched bloodshed. And she wouldn’t be made to pay for it.

“What a coincidence!” she murmured. “My real father, my birth father, had no sins, either. Not a single one. He was a perfect man in every way.”

Jarrett laughed softly. Even James allowed the flicker of a rueful grin to touch his lips.

“Lemonade?” he inquired.

“Please,” she murmured.

“Are you staying another night?” Jarrett asked him.

He looked at Teela. “It’s a tempting proposition. The comfort within this house is always seductive.”

She reached for her glass. Her fingers were trembling so that it nearly slipped through them. Jarrett looked at her oddly. He started to speak.

But just then Tara hurried through the breezeway doors, smiling as she came toward them.

“Jeeves will be right out,” she told them cheerfully.

“James, after we eat, you must come see! Jennifer was playing with her baby cousin Ian while we rode, and they fell asleep together on the big bearskin rug in my room. They look like a pair of cherubs.”

“Jen is really that good with the baby?” James asked his sister-in-law, smiling as he leaned back, looking up at her.

“She’s wonderful. I told you that. I wasn’t making it up.” Tara reached across the table, squeezing his hand. Teela felt another little lurch in her heart. They were all so close. Some bond surrounded not only the brothers, not only man and wife, but all of them, the children as well. It was a family, she thought, and nothing got in the way of the love that was shared.

James McKenzie, white-Seminole that he was, would never understand her envy of that. She’d had her mother. She’d loved her, cared for her. That love had been returned. But with Lilly’s illness and death, Teela had been on her own. She’d fought alone, she’d dreamed on her own. Other than Lilly’s love, the rest had been bitterness, all of her life.

“Jennifer is truly a beautiful little girl,” Teela heard herself saying aloud without thought. James stared at her instantly. She wondered if he doubted her words. If he was waiting for her to add,
a beautiful little girl for an Indian
.

“Is she like your wife?” she blundered on.

Thankfully, he decided not to take offense. “Yes,
quite a bit like Naomi,” he said. His voice was low, not angry.

“But your daughter has your hair,” Teela said.

“Our father’s hair,” Jarrett said.

“Our sinless father’s hair,” James added, and Teela was glad to see his rueful smile.

She grinned herself, then became aware that Tara was rising, staring out toward the river.

“Jarrett, someone is coming,” she said.

Jarrett stood as well, frowning. A small sloop was indeed coming down the river. “It’s a military ship,” he murmured, looking at his brother.

James shrugged, and they all sat tensely, watching as the ship came into dockage.

“Were you expecting someone?” Tara asked her husband.

“Harrington … but not for a few days. And this ship appears to have come in from the west.”

A gangplank was lowered from the vessel, and a man in full army-regulation uniform came striding immediately down it.

Teela gasped, jumping to her feet as well. She couldn’t believe it. Dismay filled her in great, cold, rushing waves.

“Warren!” James grated out, rising beside her, all of his feelings of hatred and contempt naked in his voice.

Warren. Indeed.

Teela gritted her teeth, barely breathing, watching as her stepfather reached the dock, spoke to the men there, then came quickly across the lawn and to the porch of Cimarron.

James might be a savage, but he was right on one point.

There was no greater demon than her stepfather.

And here he was, destroying the beauty of the day. Destroying the small taste of intimate magic that was just beginning to be hers within this close-knit family.

She blinked, then closed her eyes tightly. Let it not be true! Let it be a horrid daydream. A nightmare in the light of day.

She opened her eyes. Of course, it was not a dream of any kind. Warren was real, a demon in the flesh.

Ready to drag her back down to his hell.

I
n appearance Major Michael Warren was one of the most correct military officers James had ever seen. His uniform blue was precise, his collar perfect, his trousers impeccably creased. Only his slouch hat gave credence to the merciless sun in Florida, while the plume that flew from it was surely a minor concession to vanity. He was a man perhaps in his late forties, curly brown hair winged with gray, very serious dark eyes, nose dead straight, features well arranged and very hard. His lips were narrow, often all but disappearing into the sun bronze of his face. He might have been a handsome man; it was almost as if he had willed himself not to be.

“Mr. McKenzie!” Warren greeted them, his eyes upon Jarrett. He had met James on occasion. Bitter occasion for the most part, for though they’d not met in battle, they had come close several times. They had met once on opposite sides of an envoy’s desk, and once in the midst of Alligator’s camp when the Seminoles had kept their promise of truce with a far greater honor than Warren had ever offered himself. Warren was well aware that James was a McKenzie and Jarrett’s half brother; he had frequently shaken his head at James’s failure to use his heritage to become as white as he possibly could. That James’s blood was tainted was a fact beyond a doubt; that James didn’t use his father’s name to save his skin was false and foolish pride and sheer stupidity on the half-breed’s part.